A word of warning. When you acquire this book - and you certainly will if you give two 'Hoots' for the Gibsons, full marks to the Marx and recall when it was W.C. or Gracie instead of Shirley Ann who were the Fields that conquered - beware treating it as flick-book or an encyclopedia. It is neither.
Unfortunately, the moment I laid my hands on it, I paused only to note that it claimed to be 'a panoramic view of four decades of sound' before peeling through the pages at the speed of a Polaroid print, searching for a favourite title or two. Thirty seconds later, having drawn a blank, I cast the book aside like a petulant Hamilton Burger, and confess to regarding it as being incomplete, irrelevant, incompetent and immaterial.
Fortunately I needed no prodding from an urbane Mason to return to the subject since my natural fondness for filmic nostalgia would not countenance an unread film book in the house.
This time I started where the co-authors Martin Quigley Jr. and Richard Gertner intended. At the Foreword, which quickly established the two aims of the book: (1) to furnish concise but comprehensive information and analysis of a representative number of motion pictures (nearly 400) significant in the development of screen entertainment in the United States since the advent of sound, and (2) to outline briefly the historical evolution and impact of the American film industry.
Fair enough, but out of the thousands of films made in the 40 years in review, how have the authors chosen the 400 which, in retrospect, is a very short list indeed ? Their foreword continues: films have been selected for their effect on the public as measured by box-office response; on film makers, for artistic or technological merit; on an individual, through significant advancement of his screen career, be it as a performer, director, producer or some other creative capacity and finally, on censorship, as landmarks on the road to freedom of the screen.
As any selection process demands a degree of arbitrariness, the authors admit to the exclusion of many good films, perhaps because they were not considered to be as historically significant as others.
As if to testify to the integrity of the authors' approach to the problem of selectivity, it is notable that the 400 films for 40 years are not neatly tied-up in units of the 'ten best for the year'. There are long lists, there are short lists, reflecting which years, in the authors' minds, are vintage and poor.
Right - so tackling this generously sized book on the authors' terms - does it succeed or fail ? Well - allowing for the fact that every reader will privately regret the exclusion of his own favourite or two (a judgment based on personal feelings and foibles as opposed to the criteria of the writers which has a much wider landscape) - it succeeds brilliantly. More so with subsequent readings, as I have a discovered.
Continuing past the foreword, the authors take us on the familiar journey from silent to soundsville, which of course always makes fascinating reading, especially as here it is linked with the writers' interpretation of the events of the period. This style continues throughout the book with a potted review of each year being followed by an examination of the chosen films, each one of which - surprise, surprise - has at least one still to go with the text! That really is something. Thank you, dear sirs.
Another good idea is listing the box-office stars of the year in the final paragraph of the report on the period. In 1929, they were: Clara Bow, Lon Chaney, William Haines, Hoot Gibson, Colleen Moore, Buddy Rogers, Richard Barthelmess, Ken Maynard, Tom Mix and Nancy Carroll.
In 1969: Paul Newman, John Wayne, Steve McQueen, Dustin Hoffman, Clint Eastwood, Sidney Poitier, Lee Marvin, Jack Lemmon, Katharine Hepburn and Barbara Streisand.
These two lists alone spark off innumerable thoughts: that the Western has become even more popular and certainly more sophisticated; that by 1969, John Wayne was not only the superstar of the decade but the longest reigning star in film history, and this was before his Oscar-winning True Grit; that the indomitable Hepburn had, since her debut in A Bill of Divorcement (1932), not only ridden the years - she had tamed them; that 1969 was the third year running for Sidney Poitier, who, in 1967, became the first coloured actor to be a star of the year; that McQueen's first starring vehicle was a 'it-came-from-gawd-knows-where' film, The Blob (1958).
On a more sobering note, did you know that Tom Mix once rode his famous horse, Tony, up the steps of the Savoy Hotel and that hundreds of boys born during the reign of the 'Mixtures' were named not only after the star, but also named after the horse ?
What was the first talking picture to gain an Academy Award? Easy - The Broadway Melody (1929) starring Anita Page, Charles King and Bessie Love.
Remember Wallace Beery and Marie Dressler: Min and Bill (1930), Tugboat Annie (1933) ? Or were you 'sent' by Janet Gaynor and Charles Farrell, but did you forget that it was not Mr Farrell but, in fact, Warner Baxter who starred with her in Daddy Longlegs (1931)?
Television won't allow you to forget some of the screen monsters and ghoulies more's the pity - but some have deserved to stay the course like the definitive Frankenstein (1931) in which Colin Clive made a man, while James Whale's brilliant direction made Boris Karloff.
The authors rightly hail King Kong as top of the pops in stop-action model animation, beautifully achieved by Willis O'Brien whose special effects have not been equalled except, perhaps by Kubrick's 2001 (1968).
Forgotten The Thin Man which brought together the elegance of William Powell and the sophistication of Myrna Loy? That was in 1934 and it started a most popular series, some of the scenes of which were occasionally stolen by Asta, the wirehaired terrier that gave Rin-Tin-Tin a run and had a much better sense of humour.
Hundreds of 'Shirleys' of this world owe their name to the incredible Miss Temple who was a top box-office star at the age of five. One of the least quoted vehicles is here: Little Miss Marker (1934) a charming Damon Runyon story peopled by adults like Adolphe Menjou, Dorothy Dell and Charles Bickford.
Frank Capra is well represented by such obvious screen landmarks as It Happened One Night (1934); the Mr Deeds Goes To Town (1936); the $2,000,000 Lost Horizon (1937); Mr Smith Goes To Washington (1939), and You Can't Take it With You (1938). These last two named films starred James Stewart, which reminds me that the film which Mr Stewart told me in an interview (Movie Maker June 1972) was the best film in which he had starred for Capra or anybody, is not listed. It is It's a Wonderful Life (1946). Which goes to prove one man's meat ...
I'm glad Errol Flynn's representation includes The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). It's still the best one, not only Robin-wise, but who could resist Eugene Pallette's gravel-voiced Friar Tuck; Alan Hale's hearty Big John or fail to sneer at the bad Prince John (Claude Rains style) or miss a hiss for Basil Rathbone's evil Sir Guy ?
Please note that the title of the book is 'Films in America' and not from America', which thankfully allows in such masterpieces by Hitchcock-before-Hollywood like The Lady Vanishes (1938). The authors note that his first Hollywood film was Rebecca (1940) and then came the golden years and worldwide fame. I think this is rather underselling the value of his purely British career with such memorable titles as The Lodger (1926); Blackmail (1929) the first British sound feature; The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934 version) and the classic The Thirty Nine Steps (1935) which helped Robert Donat on the road to his Oscar for Goodbye Mr Chips (1939).
Among other foreign landmarks - or perhaps birthmarks would be more correct is Ecstasy (1936) in which Hedy Keisler scampered about naked in a Czechoslovakian film which was in trouble in the USA from the word go. Customs held up the first print on moral grounds, then it was 'inadvertently' burned by a USA Marshal. A new print, said to be a different version, was sent over from Prague and admitted without protest.
I well remember this film. I managed to sneak in to see it, although I was about 12 at the time, and not only did I wonder what all the fuss was about, I also wondered for what reason the lady's face appeared in such apparent agony during one dull sequence. My more advanced school friends were able to advise (in much more colourful descriptions) that it was supposed to be 'simulated intercourse'.
I offer no prizes for those who guessed that the star of the film later made a career in Hollywood where she is possibly best remembered for Samson and Delilah (1949). By then she was better known as Hedy Lamarr.
Gone With the Wind; Dead End; Snow White; Here Comes Mr Jordan; Yankee Doodle Dandy; The Song of Bernadette; The Road to . . . ? The Third Man; Citizen Kane; High Noon; Singing in the Rain; Around the World . . . they are all there. Sometimes you wonder how they got there considering the trials and tribulations of the film world, which did not start with the television menace but with the opposition of the dance halls; the beer cellars and with the 16 theatres which were bombed in Chicago in a bitter struggle over the Union demand for "two men in the booth" (i.e., two projectionists on duty). That was in 1931. In 1933, some were forecasting the end of the cinema because of the impact of radio with such shows as Amos 'n' Andy.
So, as the reader will observe, from the beginning and on to the end of the book and indeed, in the three years from the book's ending - it's the same old story, both on and off the silver screen. The names of the goodies and the baddies change; techniques improve; screens and horizons become bigger and national frontiers shrink.
This is cinema - reflecting life and coming to terms with it. From Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1932) to Butch Cassidy
and the Sundance Kid (1969) and all those billions
of feet of film in between.
JOHN WRIGHT
Reproduced from the November 1972 issue of Movie Maker.
This page was last updated 02 Dec 2002