The Reckless Moment (1949) **

Who knew a 1949 film starring James Mason and Joan Bennett would be so obscure? It took me years to finally see this, and this would not have happened if TCM hadn’t finally premiered it this past January.  TCM has been on the air for almost thirty years, you would think The Reckless Moment might have found its way to the airwaves before now.  Yet, sometimes there are reasons a film doesn’t show up on TCM very often: it’s not popular, contract rights, lost prints, etc. Or, in the case of this film, it’s just not that good and not many people are clamoring to see it.  I suppose if the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die book hadn’t listed it in its first edition many people wouldn’t have requested that TCM show it.  Ah, so much anticipation but so much disappointment—it reminds me of my first (and only) encounter with caviar.  For years I’d seen rich people on TV and in movies praise the glory of this delicacy, so imagine my disappointment when I tasted what amounted to salty Pop Rocks (without the sugar) in my mouth at a college luncheon.  How can you tactfully spit out such swill when you are surrounded by inquisitive academics who have a really bad habit of invading your personal space?  Perhaps my experience with The Reckless Moment wasn’t as bad as the one with caviar, but it was such a letdown.

The great Max Ophuls only directed four Hollywood films: The Exile (1947), Letter from an Unknown Woman (1948), Caught (1949), and this less than stellar endeavor. Of the four, only Letter from an Unknown Woman showcases his true brilliance. Many critics would disagree with my assessment of The Reckless Moment, as one has went so far as to call it a masterpiece on par with Ophuls’ French marvels The Earrings of Madame de…(1953), Lola Montes (1955), and La Ronde (1950). I can’t bring myself to say this for many reasons—the most important being I can’t decide what type of film it is.  Is it a film noir or a melodrama?  Personally, it feels like a combination of both, and I don’t like to mix oil and water together. 

Joan Bennett plays Lucia Harper, mother of two and fixer of all.  When her incessantly annoying teenage daughter Bea (Geraldine Brooks) gets involved with an unsavory older man named Darby (Shepperd Strudwick), she pays the man a visit and threatens him.  After an unfortunate accident involving her daughter, in which Darby falls from the Harper’s pier and unto an anchor, Lucia must drag the body out to sea and dispose of it.  Not long after this unusual chore, a very calm Irish thug named Martin Donnelly (James Mason) shows up and demands $5,000 for some letters Bea wrote to Darby.

Donnelly’s interactions with the entire Harper family can only be described as bizarre.  I think this is what I most dislike about the film.  There are few would-be movie gangsters that I recall being polite and friendly to those from whom they are extorting money.  He gives horseracing tips to the father-in-law (Henry O’Neill) and helps Lucia’s son (David Bair)fix something on his car.  Oh, and then there is his quick infatuation with Lucia herself. Mind you, an infatuation he knows can’t go anywhere since she thinks he’s scum.  Perhaps it was the short running time (a brisk 82 minutes) or the Hollywood constraints Ophuls found himself working under, but I couldn’t believe the sacrifices that Donnelly makes for Lucia.  While unfulfilled love is a consistent Ophuls’ theme, it does not work here.

The acting is not the issue, as both Mason and Bennett give good performances. He is quietly menacing and she is confidently controlled.  Mason comes off as his usually does—as though he isn’t trying.  To me, Bennett’s character is the more interesting of the two.  No matter what comes her way, Lucia always seems to steady herself and continue on with a cigarette in one hand and a plan in the other.  Thrown into a world so unlike her own she never seems to change—it’s perfectly natural that a blackmailer is in her living room and that her father-in-law wants to invite him to dinner. Perhaps if Ophuls had had more time to develop the story, or if the writers had written a better adaptation of Elizabeth Sanxay Holding’s “The Blank Wall”, Bennett’s strange performance could have saved this picture.  Who knows?

One thing, on a sort of side note, that we do know is that Bennett would personally find herself in a somewhat similar situation in 1951 when her husband, Walter Wanger (who produced this film), shot Bennett’s agent, Jennings Lang, because he was having an affair with Bennett.  Wanger’s sensational attempted-murder trial rocked Hollywood. Wanger pleaded temporary insanity (the crime of passion defense) and served four months.  Oddly enough, Bennett and Wanger remained married until 1965.  It is said that the clandestine meetings between Bennett and Lang were an inspiration for Billy Wilder’s The Apartment (1960).  The event effectively ended Bennett’s film career, she would only make a handful of movies following the incident. 

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The Grapes of Wrath (1940) **1/2

You don’t get more of a Depression-era film than director John Ford’s The Grapes of Wrath (1940). Based on John Steinbeck’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel of the same name, the story follows the displaced Joad family from the Dust Bowl of Oklahoma to the sunny orchards of California.  Darryl Zanuck took a chance when he bought the film rights for 20th Century Fox, but in the end it paid off with seven Oscar nominations—two of which earned Oscars for Best Director John Ford and Best Supporting Actress Jane Darwell.  While it isn’t surprising that the film was nominated for Best Picture; it is a tad shocking that renowned cinematographer Gregg Toland’s striking images were overlooked by the Academy. You see, the story is gripping and the acting is mesmerizing, but the visuals are what make this film a treasure. 

When I read Steinbeck’s 600+ page novel in college I found myself admiring preacher Casy (John Carradine) and rooting for poor Rose-of-Sharon (Dorris Bowden).  I also didn’t really like Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) and I could have done without the intercalary chapters. Thankfully, the intercalary sections were left out of the film and what remains is a story that rips your heart out, chops it up, and then feeds it to the pigs.  Here you have a poor Oklahoma family thrown off the land their family has worked for generations by both mechanization and the banks.  No one seems to care that they have nothing but an old rickety truck loaded to the brim with a few pieces of furniture and articles of clothing.  They search out a new life in California, only to find that they are not needed or wanted.  Along the way they meet mostly scorn and mistreatment (mostly by land owners and law enforcement), but they do meet a few compassionate people.  The most memorable being the diner waitress who sells two peppermint sticks to the children for a penny, when they really cost a dime. 

While red-baiting was taking a coffee break in 1940 America, it was still risky to include Steinbeck’s rather socialistic themes. In one memorable scene Tom asks, “What is these 'Reds' anyway? Every time ya turn around, somebody callin' somebody else a Red. What is these 'Reds' anyway?” Steinbeck, and even Ford to a degree, are making the point that anyone who asks to be treated like a human being and be paid a fair wage is viewed as a “red” agitator. 

Henry Fonda does a good job of conveying Tom Joad’s underlying seething rage. Rewarded with a Best Actor nomination by the Academy, Fonda plays the embittered Tom as a man who could (and often does) explode at any moment. You can see the resentment Tom feels in the way Fonda moves, looks, and delivers his lines. 

In addition to Fonda’s fine acting, Jane Darwell delivers the performance of her life as Ma Joad.  It is the simple and quiet way that she goes about building her character into the backbone of the Joad family that I think most people admire. It would have been easy to play up the stereotypical hysterical hillbilly matriarch that some actresses went for, but Darwell is calm, resigned, and resilient in her role. 

The other standout performance is John Carradine’s (one of Ford’s favorite character actors) as Casy.  He adds an almost spiritual element to the film—and not because his character is a fallen preacher, either. He just seems to have a very reverent screen presence, and he delivers his lines in a prayer-like fashion.  Casy was my favorite character in the book, and while he doesn’t get as much screen time as one might like, I think Carradine uses what time he gets to make his Casy one of the most memorable things about the film.

While Carradine’s Casy is memorable, it is Gregg Toland’s cinematography that steals the entire production. Employing  the purity of black and white film, Toland used wide-angle lenses to capture the parched desolation of the Oklahoma plains and the deserted isolation of the desert.  How small is man compared to such images? When dealing with capturing the human element, Toland used deep focus so savagely that you feel uncomfortable looking at the ragged and malnourished people he sets his sights on.  He also uses shadows in a very clever way to literally illustrate when someone has something hanging over their head or breathing down their neck.  His images are stark, realistic, and uncomfortable—just what the film and the book were trying to convey about the plight of the Joads and thousands others like them. 

Now, some might be disappointed that I haven’t discussed the biblical references in the film. It’s there—Casy’s murder is like the crucifixion of Christ and the whole trip is like Exodus—but I find this element severally lacking from that of the book (much was cut), so I don’t find it to be that important.  What I think makes The Grapes of Wrath an enduring picture is the stunning photography and the nuanced presentation of one of the best examples of Americana during the Great Depression.

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A Night at the Opera (1935) **

(This is my contribution to the CMBA’s Comedy Classics Blogathon. Please visit http://clamba.blogspot.com/ for more great comedy classic articles.)

Imagine if you will a world in which a nation finds itself weighed down by hard economic times—a world where a select few have much and the majority of people struggle to make ends meet. In this type of world the masses need something or someone to make things seem less dark and hopeless.  In 1935 the world was a dark place for many Americans.  The Great Depression saw unemployment and homelessness ascend and people’s spirits and dreams descend into despair.  Most people didn’t go to the movies to be reminded that their lives were filled with worry and uncertainty. No, they went to films to escape—at least for a few short hours—from the unpleasant times in which they lived.  Just that one simple act of sitting side-by-side in a darkened theater with people just like themselves and laughing at the absurdity of it all—the jokes, the actors, and the world itself—what a release it must have been!  That is what the Marx Brothers brought to the American people—comic relief from a very unfunny world.

The Marx Brothers made thirteen films (really fourteen, but Humor Risk [1921] doesn’t count, as it was never released); A Night at the Opera (1935) was their sixth film and their first for MGM.  They, like the American people, had suffered some setbacks.  Their previous film, Duck Soup (1933), had not fared well at the box office or with the critics; thus, effectively ending their working relationship with Paramount.  While the world might have seemed insane to most people, they didn’t want to go to movies where nothing made sense. Irving Thalberg knew this, and so when he took the brothers on at MGM he proposed that they remain as insane as they already were but that there be an actual plot that ran the insane asylum. What emerged was what most critics consider to be the Marx Brothers best film.

While they no longer carried the keys to the asylum, the Marx Brothers still got Thalberg to allow them to choose their writers, George S. Kaufman and Morrie Ryskind, and to showcase their individual talents.  Groucho still got to deliver his quick one-liners. Chico still played the wily ethnic, as well as the piano. And, Harpo was still a silent, childlike figure who could play the harp like an angel and leer at women like a pervert.  Yes, Zeppo was gone, but while his good looks would sorely me missed, the brothers no longer needed him to play the straight man as they now had the ultimate straight man—an actual story plot! 

By all accounts, the Marx Brothers were viewed as over-the-top, absurd characters.  Well, what better world to place them in than the world of opera?  And, not just any opera, but Verdi’s Il Travatore—one of the most ridiculous (and revered) operas ever.  In the words of NPR, “opera has always been easy fodder for jokes. Even the greatest of operas often seem to teeter on some weird edge between the profound and the preposterous.”  What a perfect setting for a group of men who took great pride in being profanely outrageous.  That is what A Night at the Opera is.

There are three things that are profanely outrageous about this film: 1) People are starving to death in America, but Mrs. Claypool (Margaret Dumont) is willing to pay $200,000 to the New York Opera Company if it gets her name into society. 2) The reputation and arrogance of tenor Rodolpho (Walter Wolf King) is more respected than the talent and industriousness of tenor Riccardo (Allan Jones). 3) And, everything else. That’s right, everything else. 

While the story is held together by the love story of tenor Rodolpho and soprano Rosa (Kitty Carlisle), the film is really nothing more than a cornucopia of Marx Brothers’ gags wrapped in the guise of a romantic musical comedy.  The plot, which they somewhat abide by, is what allows them to do what they do best—run anarchically amok.  Three things stand out in this regard.

First, you have the famous stateroom scene where Groucho’s character, Otis P. Driftwood, finds himself sardined into  a very small room with three stowaways: Riccardo, Tomasso (Harpo), and Fiorello (Chico).  The plot says that the stowaways are in the tight space because they can’t afford tickets and because Riccardo can’t be separated from Rosa.  The reality is that the Marx Brothers (with the help of Buster Keaton) saw an opportunity to pack as many people as humanly possible into that small space under the pretext that all fifteen people who eventually end up in it are there for a perfectly reasonable reason. 

The second example is the bed-switching skit in Groucho’s hotel.  Again, Groucho finds himself playing host to the three stowaways, but now they are illegal immigrants wanted by the police.  When Detective Henderson (Robert Emmet O’Connor) comes looking for them and sees three cots in Groucho’s hotel he knows something isn’t right.  What ensues is a ridiculous ruse in which Henderson is used as a human carousel to seamlessly transfer an entire bedroom to another room without him knowing. By the end of the ruse the poor detective is thoroughly convinced that he is in an entirely separate room.

The last example, of course, is the final sequence, where Harpo and Chico find themselves in the most unlikely situations: playing catch in the orchestra; playing gypsies in the chorus; and, finally as (for Harpo at least) rope pullers and set changers for the scene backdrops.  The fact that the show would go on when so much chaos is so obviously taking place before the audience’s own eyes is beyond profanely outrageous.

I have always thought of the finale as a reflection on America’s upper class citizens in the 1930s—the whole world is obviously on fire, yet they sit passively by and don’t even attempt to throw a glass of water on it! Perhaps I’m a bit subversive in this thinking, but I wouldn’t put it past the Marx Brothers. Maybe this was their small glass of water to an American public thirsting for a bright and hopeful future.

 

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Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) **1/2

I know I am supposed to say Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) is a screwball comedy, but I just can’t do it!  Yes, it has many funny moments in it and the main character is a tad screwy, but I can’t put it in the same category as Bringing Up Baby (1938), The Lady Eve (1941), or The Awful Truth (1937). Plus, being a Frank Capra directed film it has a bit of a dark underside to it—and I don’t mean dark humor. I would actually categorize it as a dramedy, as the first half of the film is mostly comedy and the second half mostly drama (with a few choice comical moments pixielated in).  Whatever you label it, Mr. Deeds is a film anchored by understated, good acting and a strong story about the value of honesty and goodness in a corrupt world. 

A standard theme in Capra films, the idea of the simple everyman exposing the falseness of overindulged city slickers, is a crucial element in this film. Gary Cooper plays Longfellow Deeds, a country gentleman from Mandrake Falls, Vermont, who inherits $20 million from an overindulgent uncle from New York City.  Deeds is a poet who loves nature and plays the tuba, and is often mistaken for a country yokel because of his naiveté and plainspoken ways.  He looks like an easy mark to one of his uncle’s shady lawyers, Mr. Cedar (Douglas Dumbrille), but Deeds knows (and says) that working for nothing isn’t natural and so he instantly doesn’t trust Cedar.  Transplanted to New York City, Deeds finds himself surrounded by many people he doesn’t trust—or worse, who think they are better than him because they are cosmopolitan.  His best friends turn out to be his valet, Walter (Raymond Walburn), and his fixer, Corny Cobb (Lionel Stander)—both of which happen to be working class stiffs.

An idealist in every sense, Deeds finds himself instantly attracted to a woman who faints outside his mansion one rainy night. Thinking he has rescued a damsel in distress, Deeds believes he has found his dream woman in stenographer Mary Dawson (Jean Arthur).  What he doesn’t know is Mary isn’t a stenographer, but a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter for The Morning Mail named Babe Bennett.  She labels him the Cinderella Man and opens him up to the ridicule of the entire city.  Eventually Babe falls in love with her “assignment” and starts to regret what she has done, but before she can come clean with Deeds the truth comes out.  At this point the film’s mood totally changes, and I don’t know that I agree with how abrupt the shift is.

If you have seen the film then you remember the gun-wielding, displaced farmer (John Wray), who convinces Deeds he should give away his $20 million to those who need it.  Up until this point there hasn’t been any meaningful reference to the Depression or the downtrodden (except for the fainting Mary). So, when a man bursts into Deed’s mansion and aims a gun at him and goes off on a tirade about feeding doughnuts to horses and having lavish parties, it is completely jarring.  Yes, I know it was a plot device to move the story along to the whole insanity hearing part of the film, but I think some earlier ground-laying of this theme would have been useful.  If I have one nit-pick with the movie it is this…oh, and that hideous Robin Hood feather in her cap hat that Arthur wears in one scene—Samuel Lange, you had a short career for a reason!

Both Cooper and Arthur give understated performances in Mr. Deeds. Cooper (nominated for a Best Actor Oscar) always played the geez, smarter than you think country bumpkin well, and his Deeds is no exception.  His slack-jawed line delivery and easy-going physical mannerisms play well for Deed’s personality.  Some might say that Cooper lacked acting range, but they would also have to admit that he owned his own style and it worked (none better than in his role as Clint Maroon in Saratoga Trunk [1945]). Arthur, for her part, is not, as she is often described, the “quintessential comedic leading lady.” She’s not that funny in this film because this isn’t a screwball comedy!  As a matter of fact, besides a few good one liners and a couple of comical sideway looks, her role mostly consists of her being depressed by her bad behavior or being anxious over the possibility of Deeds being institutionalized.  Am I the only one who notices this?  Still, I always like Arthur—she is just so likable, even when she’s playing a liar.

Overall, Mr. Deed Goes to Town is an enjoyable dramedy.  Nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, this is a typical Frank Capra Depression-Era vehicle. I don’t subscribe to the school of film critics who refer to this period of his work as Capra-corn. Instead, like many others, I believe people went to films like Mr. Deeds because they were inspirational and uplifting.  In the end, that is exactly what this movie turns out to be.

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The King’s Speech (2010) ****

One of the best films I’ve seen in years.  Everything is stellar about this 2010 Academy Award winner for Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Director, and Best Original Screenplay.  The acting is courageously superb; the costumes are spot-on; and, the story is inspiring.  There was nothing I didn’t like about this film (sans the fact that Helena Bonham Carter wasn’t in it more).  Watching director Tom Hooper’s masterpiece was a highly enjoyable experience—something that is sorely missing in most movies today.

Director Tom Hooper tells the true story of how an Australian commoner helped King George VI (Oscar-winner Colin Firth) of England manage his stammer.  From the start of the film we see how truly debilitating this stammer is, as the then Duke of York, Prince Albert (AKA Bertie), struggles through a speech at Wembley Stadium.  Overcome with feelings of helplessness for her husband, the Duchess of York, Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), locates highly recommended speech therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush) and asks him to treat the prince.  What ensues is an unlikely story of friendship and courage. 

I suppose what I liked most about the movie is that it wasn’t about some miracle cure that freed the king of his ailment.  Instead, it was a story about why the king stammered and how he learned to manage it.  Through his dealings with his overbearing father, King George V (Michael Gambon), and his selfish brother, King Edward VIII (Guy Pearce), we see why Bertie stammered.  Bullied and made fun of by his own royal family (and even mistreated by a nanny!) because of his stammer, Bertie had issues of self-confidence, which only intensified the stammering.  The idea of having to give a speech or a radio address terrified him.  That is why he put up with Lionel’s total disregard for royal etiquette and protocol.  I think Firth does an excellent job not only with the stammering vocalizations the role calls for, but also with exhibiting the inner turmoil and frustration that the king has.  There is a truly terrified look in his eyes at times.  The facial constraint alone must have been exhausting. 

Both Helena Bonham Carter and Geoffrey Rush earned Best Supporting Acting nominations for their roles.  Carter is a subdued but plucky Duchess of York.  I usually enjoy her in just about everything, so I was not surprised to hear her very precise English diction or to see her refined regal posture. Oh, and the look she gives to Wallis Simpson (Eve Best) upon their meeting at Balmoral Castle is priceless. Much like Carter does, Rush makes his performance seem effortless, though it is anything but that.  His Lionel can be confident and irreverent one minute and in the next be timid and respectful.  I think he and Firth play very well off one another, and the friendship that develops between the two men seems palpable.

While the entire film is stellar, there is one scene that is better than the rest.  Since the film is called The King’s Speech it should come as no surprise that the pinnacle of the film is when the king gives his September 3, 1939, speech asking the British people to stand united with him against Nazism. Showing any sign of weakness is not an option when a nation is at war, and so the king must appear strong and steady.  The staging of the delivery of the speech is masterfully done.  Set to the second movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, Lionel comes off as the conductor and the king as the instrument of the British people.  Watching the king use the techniques he has learned from Lionel while giving the speech of a lifetime is inspiring and a little hair-raising as well. 

Now, as a historian I must caution that there are some historical inaccuracies, but nothing that was so egregious that I couldn’t enjoy the film.  Still, please know that they portray Churchill in a much more positive light than he deserves, and even the king was not without fault when it came to dealing with the Nazis.  Consult your history books for a more accurate representation of this period. 

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I Know Where I’m Going (1945) **

The Archers, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, collaborated on eighteen films over a thirty year period (1939-72).  While their first true “Archer” production (where they share writing, directing and producing credit) didn’t come until 1943 with The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, they had previously worked on four films together.  Usually, it was Powell who did the bulk of the directing and Pressburger who came up with the story ideas and handled most of the production chores (especially when it came to editing and music incorporation). Some of their endeavors are quite memorable, like Black Narcissus (1947) and The Red Shoes (1948), while others are easily forgotten, such as The Battle of the River Plate (1956) and Ill Met By Moonlight (1957).  Somewhere in-between their masterpieces and their flops is located I Know Where I’m Going! (1945), which stars Wendy Hiller as a young woman who’d rather marry for money than love.

Manchesterian Joan Webster (Hiller) is supposed to marry wealthy industrialist Sir Robert Bellinger (Norman Shelley’s voice—he’s never seen) on the Isle of Kiloran, but the weather (or fate) in the Scottish Hebrides has other plans.  For some reason I’ve never really liked Hiller. I don’t know exactly why, but I think it’s her voice—it just rubs me the wrong way. Still, she was a decent actress who was nominated for three Oscars (she won one for Separate Tables [1958]) and she worked in the industry for nearly sixty years.  In I Know Where I’m Going! she does a nice job of portraying her character’s steely determination to not be sabotaged by love (and an island full of eccentric Scots).  However, I like her much more in the beginning of the film when she is calling her bank managing father “Darling” (George Carney) than I do when she is risking poor Kenny’s (Murdo Morrison) life to get across to Kiloran. 

Roger Livesey (an Archer veteran) gives his usual steady performance as Torquil MacNeil (what a name!). A kilt-wearing naval officer, Torquil is the broke Laird of Kiloran (FYI a laird is one step below a baron) and the owner of the Isle of Kiloran.  He sees in Joan a woman he would like to tame, but unlike Petruchio, he attempts to do it with kindness and patience. Too bad his childhood friend Catriona (Pamela Brown) is married, because she is much prettier and, more importantly, way more interesting than Joan.  It just grates on my nerves when the supporting actress is more enjoyable than the lead actress (see Kristen Scott Thomas and Andie MacDowell in Four Weddings and a Funeral [1994]).  In addition to Livesey and Brown’s nice acting turns, Captain C.W.R. Knight is a hoot as Colonel Barnstaple, a falconer with a delightful sense of style.

What I think sets this movie apart from a number of others during this period is it’s cinematography. This was most probably cinematographer Erwin Hillier’s best work over his thirty year career.  It is said the he didn’t use a light meter at all, which must have made his task more difficult than usual, especially when you consider the weather conditions.  There are many long distance shots that capture the overall majesty of the Scottish shoreline.  As someone who has spent time in the Scottish towns of Carnoustie and Killin it was a reminder of just how beautiful the land of Scots can be.  Hillier also used a hand-held camera to capture some of the close-up shots—most notably the ones of the boat struggling against the Corryvreckan whirlpool.  Interestingly enough, what most people don’t know is that Livesey never once set foot in Scotland for any of the location shots because he was doing a play in London at the time they were shot. 

Overall, I Know Where I’m Going! is a somewhat enjoyable light romantic comedy.  Other than some very fine photography, there is not much else that stands out.  Still, it was nice to learn a little bit about Scottish customs, and the bagpipes weren’t played so much that I  wanted to hit mute too often, either.

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True Grit (2010) **

True disappointment is more like it!  Three great actors and two Coen brothers would seem like a recipe for success, but something went wrong with True Grit (2010).  I suppose I am in the minority here, as I read many critics’ reviews that praised this Coen venture.  In addition, it garnered ten Academy Award nominations (at least it didn’t win any!). Now, it’s not like I am one of those rabid John Wayne fans who thought there was no way the 2010 version could compare to the 1969 one, because I didn’t think that was that good, either (though Wayne does give a fine performance).  No, I just found it an average, run-of-the-mill Hollywood picture—without the aliens and huge explosions.  That’s not to say there is anything wrong with average—I tell my students average is fine, as most people are “C” students—but with all the hype surrounding this film I expected more but got less.

An adaptation of the 1968 Charles Porter novel of the same name, the film is about one girl’s unyielding need for retribution for her father’s murder.  More mature than any fourteen year old I ever met, Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) wants to hunt down Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin) and bring him to justice for killing his boss and her father.  She may be matter-of-fact and businesslike, but she lacks the necessary skills to venture into Indian Territory (this film is set way before the PC age) and apprehend him herself.  So, she hires a Deputy U.S. Marshall known for a shoot-first mentality and, well, true grit.  Marshall Rooster Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) might have true grit, but he’s also a drunk and unpleasant person.  Along the way they team up with (and occasionally break off from) Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon), who is after Chaney for killing a Texas state senator.  What follows is a drawn out (literally) search of a half-witted, pseudo-psychopath, with a few side encounters with odd characters and reprehensible reprobates. 

The acting is passable to good. As usual, Brolin gives a strong performance in his very limited screen time.  In addition, this is one of Damon’s best roles in years.  The young Hailee Steinfeld was nominated for Best Supporting Actress, which I don’t understand, as she is clearly the focal point and star of this film.  It is difficult to believe that this was her first feature film, as she stood up well against three highly respected male stars. As for Bridges, who was nominated for Best Actor, I thought he hammed it up too much and made Rooster into a caricature.  Without a doubt, John Wayne’s Rooster is the more superior of the two.  The nuances that won Bridges the Oscar for his portrayal of Bad Blake in Crazy Heart (2009) are MIA—perhaps he had to top his award winning turn or was afraid that his career would end once people saw Tron: Legacy (2010).  Who knows? I just wasn’t into it.

I’m usually a fan of the Coen Brothers’ work, but they have a habit of making really good films (No Country for Old Men [2007], O Brother , Where Art Thou? [2001], and Fargo [1996]) and then making really average (and sometimes crappy) ones (Burn After Reading [2008] and The Ladykillers [2004]).  True Grit falls somewhere in between the good ones and the crappy ones.  It may have been their choice to have the characters speak in an exaggerated manner that irked me the most.  No one, not even back in the 1800s, spoke like that unless they were on the stage.  And, these characters are most certainly not on the stage—no matter how resolute their personal agendas. 

The one thing I truly enjoyed about the film were the scenes between Mattie and Colonel Stonehill (veteran television actor Dakin Matthews).  The true exasperation that the poor Colonel encounters at his business dealings with Mattie are funny and entertaining.  When he says, “I do not entertain hypotheticals. The world itself is vexing enough,” I couldn’t help but laugh.  Had the rest of the film been a bit more like these scenes I might have liked it better. 

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