You often hear of propaganda films made during the second world war, but most see it as a nefarious tool used by the Nazis to brainwash their citizenry. They had many purposes: to solidify the idea that your side was ‘right’, that the other side was ‘wrong’, to reassure that the outcome of the war would be positive, to remind the people of what they were fighting for, that it was well worth the fight, to make you feel part of a common cause, to create affinity with your ‘side’, to dehumanise the others… well, Mrs Miniver was a film that ticked all these boxes and was made by the allies for an allied audience. This film was made for the American public in particular and the purpose was all of the above, but had the specific purpose of wanting to create an affinity between the British and American people. It gently massages in the idea that ‘yes, they have a class system we chuckle at and even disapprove of, but it is a system that works in its own way and is infinitely better than the National Socialism of the Nazis. You will have no doubt heard of Joseph Goebbels- the propaganda minister for the Reich, and father of the relentless political propaganda machine of the Nazis- on seeing this film he was moved to write that Mrs Miniver “shows the destiny of a family during the current war, and its refined powerful propagandistic tendency has up to now only been dreamed of. There is not a single angry word spoken against Germany; nevertheless the anti-German tendency is perfectly accomplished.” He is no doubt the best judge of what this film accomplished in the political sphere. 'These are the good guys and well worth the US joining the fight for. They are really just like you and I.’ Some forget that the Americans joined the war late, the Brits were already isolated from the mainland and it really did appear to be just a matter of time before a final assault would be made. But in the States there was much debate as to whether it was in the American interest to be involved at all. Mrs Miniver was made to ensure that the public were onboard with the battle for Europe. We are taken through a number of classic WW2 movie tropes. From the breakout of war announced to the congregation by a vicar in a quaint village church, through Mrs Miniver (played by Greer Garson) and her tight-knit family. Eldest son (Vincent/Vin, played by Richard Ney) signing up to the airforce and proposing to his beloved (an 18 year old aristocrat from the local manor) the same night he is called up, quickly followed by her husband (Clem - Walter Pidgeon) being called to take his preposterously small launch to help in the evacuation of Dunkirk. There are many scenes which stand out, which earned this film the best picture Oscar. One highlight of the film is undoubtedly Mrs Miniver’s encounter with a grounded German pilot who has evaded capture while the men are away. In this 10 minute segment the dialogue is sparse and no music is used whatsoever. This is not only unusual for the time but also unusual for the rest of the film- so often films bluntly dictated the mood with their use of a soundtrack, but here the only sound we hear beyond the German pilot’s barking of orders and Mrs Miniver’s calm, fearful responses are the occasional creak of wooden chairs and kitchen floorboards, at one point interrupted by the milkman’s whistle as he goes about his business. The silence lifts the tension and ensures that you realise just how alone they are together: ANYTHING could happen, and you wonder how it might end. It is an iconic wartime scene put together beautifully to leave a powerful impression. The film rolls on through the war and Vincent Miniver marries his sweetheart. The Battle of Britain also features heavily with Vincent in constant peril. But the threat is not limited to the skies. The Miniver’s cower in their Anderson Air Raid Shelter as it is shaken by bombs falling all around them, the children crying… it is impossible not to feel for this civilian family, not to worry for their wellbeing. Again the soundtrack is absent, but for the seemingly interminable whistling and crashing of bombs. The propaganda works. It is a movie that makes you want to jump in and help, to make it all just go away for them. But it doesn’t all just go away. The victims of this war are not depicted to be just those who choose to fight, but the innocent too. The final scene is the one you are meant to leave with. It is a speech given from the pulpit by the vicar who although ostensibly addressing his congregation is in fact addressing the people of the United States. Behind him is what is left of the north church wall, his roof in pieces around him. The pulpit stands, but is exposed to the elements. He vows on the people’s behalf to fight on, but they are vulnerable. “There is scarcely a household that hasn’t been struck to the heart…why should these be the ones to suffer? Are these our soldiers… our fighters? This is not only a war of soldiers in uniform. It is a war of the people. Of ALL of the people.” It echoes Churchill’s “on the beaches” speech, speaking of the battle needing to be fought by “every man, woman and child who loves freedom”. If you are to watch one film made during the war about the home front, this is it. It is somewhat theatrical, but this is where the style belongs: in the depiction of the British and their ‘stiff upper lip’. The emotion comes across as heartfelt, and it is exactly how the brits would have wanted to be depicted: sympathetically and with admiration for an idiosyncratic way of life lived by so few, but which has defined the nation for so long.
Filmed during World War two "Going my way" is a movie that the great Bing Crosby drove all the way to the Oscar ceremony where it won 8 Academy Awards, including the Best Picture. This Crosby vehicle is a simple tale of a New York church where the incumbent ageing priest has a loose grip on goings on. O’Malley is sent by the bishop to balance the books and tend to a congregation who need direction from someone with a spring in their step, although they don't know it. Yet. Swinging his way from scene to scene in a straw boater hat cocked to one side, he plays Father O’Malley: a young priest blessed with a casual demeanour and irreverent charm that the 'squares' just don't understand. The existing Priest at O’Malley’s new parish appears at first to be immune to his persuasive powers- however, old timer Father Fitzgibbon's (Barry Fitzgerald) icy resistance is sure to melt before too long. I’m sure you get the picture. I found it to be more amusing when imagining Father Gibbons to be Father Jack (of Father Ted fame) in his 'youth', before the "DRINK" and "GERLS" addled him. This, and very little else, got me through. As you would expect, the film manages to crowbar in a few musical numbers. For those of you who only know him from his duet with David Bowie, Bing Crosby was a pre, during and postwar superstar- but watching a film that makes no effort to stretch him and just inelegantly rides his coat-tails inelegantly to the bank without any real justification for its existence is a little trying. The comic relief (and boy, is it a relief) comes in the form of Herman and Tony, the street rats terrorising the neighbourhood with their gang of miscreants. Father O’Malley wants get them onside with a view to bringing them in under his wing, and after bringing them in with ball games and hot dogs they relent and join his choir. I'd love to see this approach tried out on the 'Drill' music generation. The modern viewer finds themselves watching a kind of ‘Dangerous Minds’ meets ‘Sister Act’ sub plot. With a touch of physical comedy borrowed (HEAVILY) from the three stooges, 45 minutes in my interest is finally piqued. They make rare appearances in the rest of the film, but when they do you see glimpses of naturalism and verve (both comparative) that are missing everywhere else. And yet, it seems that my interest was not just piqued, but also peaked. A rendition of Bing’s ‘Silent Night’ followed and it was downhill from there. The best drama the writers could come up with for the final act was Father Fitzgibbon taking a walk in the rain (without an umbrella!?), a landlord not evicting a pretty 18 year old because she was pretty (oh my!) and O’Malley’s past love making a very respectful reappearance in his life to see how he is doing (oo-er!). As far as Oscar Winning pictures go, it is lacking in every department. Not even the choral rendition of ‘Would you like to swing on a star’ did anything for me and I admit it is a personal favourite of mine. The last 15 minutes of the movie are concerned with tying things up: the street rats choir is invited to go on a world tour, the landlord and young lady are discovered to have fallen in love & married and most improbably of all Father Fitzgibbons meets his long lost (and preposterously even more elderly) Irish mother, which was just plain silly. Fitzgibbons was established to be ancient, so to bring his mother in for the last 2 minutes to tug at heartstrings seemed absurd. I’ve seen a few stinkers in reviewing past pictures, but this isn’t even one of those. Very little happens at all. No doubt it was a fantastic relief for an audience in 1944 to go to the pictures and in between newsreels updating them on the crucial Allied advance in the south Pacific and western Europe to have two hours of bland nothingness, interspersed with Bing's baritone. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work for me and I’ll bet it won’t work for you either. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
This is one of the early Oscar winners that few without an intimate knowledge of the early days of the awards would know anything about. It tells the tale of Emile Zola and his lifelong battle against inequality, and for justice. It is an epic, the scale of the producing is apparent with the brilliant use of hundreds of extras who sometimes play almost as significant a role as any of the principals, creating the tense, hostile atmosphere in the courtroom, the panic in the square and jubilation in the streets for the returning army from the Prussian conflict. The baying of the crowd is particularly impressive- individual voices can be heard while the overall effect is naturalistic. However, the fact that the stand out performance is from the extras maybe reflects that an actor’s training in 1936 is still heavily grounded in the theatre- cinema had not yet quite found a style appropriate to the big screen. Their bold movements, necessary on the stage, like many other films of the era come across as unrealistic and exaggerated. Sometimes even comical without intending to be. We begin in the draughty hovel of a room he shares with an early Cezanne, the master painter, who was also yet to hit any headlines. Very sentimentally shot in soft focus, black and white, and with orchestral strings brought in regularly to direct emotion it has a very dated feel. There is an artistry to it all, but it is hidden- camera trickery might go unnoticed, such as the very clever lighting and use of shadows to enhance the scale and depth of certain shots. For instance, in the 2nd military tribunal (of Estherhazy) there are only ten soldiers behind him, but the lighting gives the impression of the darkness, power and reach of this moment. Costume and set design were also carefully considered. The contrast between poverty and opulence is stark- the broken, dirty window panes and crates of the start are replaced by gilt-edged furniture, sparkling 18 candle candelabras and rooms stuffed with other decorative items. If it were not already enough, Zola and his wife ensure you can’t miss their progress up the material ladder: “see the pearls Emile bought for me when we were in Italy”; “this most exquisite majolica”. You may know Zola, the author, legion d’honneur holder, founding father of modern France. Here he is shown to have a moral compass that always pointed true north, much to his detriment in the early days where he suffers at the hands of the authorities and rich, dumpy employers- none of whom argue that the man can’t write, but all abhor his chosen subject of bringing to light the injustices suffered by the poor, the weak, the vulnerable while berating the rich, the powerful for what he saw as their criminal inaction and neglect of ordinary citizens. “Why do you write such muckraking stuff when there are many pleasant things in life?” his tubby superior implores. The film focuses on two moments of inspiration in Zola’s life. The first, a chance encounter with a lady of the night who gives him the bones of the story for his first bestseller, ‘Nana’. She is running from police who are rounding dozens of such ladies up in the square, Zola hides her in plain sight at his table in a cafe and they get chatting. She tells him her story of hopes dashed, small girl in a big city, being taken advantage of by unscrupulous characters and finally the death of her young daughter. He puts pen to paper, tells her story (calling it “Nana”), hits a winning streak of success after success and finally finds economic stability. That’s the set up. The years pass, Zola himself grows ‘fat and old’ (his old friend Cezanne warns him) and soft too… he effectively retires from fighting injustice, feeling he has earned it. But we are barely half way through the film, and so the second moment of inspiration arrives. Another female figure- the wife of a wrongly convicted military man serving a life sentence on Devil’s Island (the notorious prison island off Guyana, you might remember it from 'Papillon' - the 1973 film starring Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman*) arrives and appeals to Zola to take up their cause. Although reluctant, he can’t refuse once he takes the time to study the evidence not just of his innocence, but also of a conspiracy at the top of the military establishment. A juicy target he has no intention of passing up. And so Zola, in what will prove to be his final act of defiance against a superior authority begins a seemingly unwinnable battle when he utters the immortal line: “I accuse…” (or “J’accuse!” if you so prefer) and accuses the entire higher military establishment of collusion, conspiracy, fraud and cowardice. This soon becomes a courtroom drama, the earliest I have yet seen, shot sumptuously with over a hundred extras who are fantastically directed. Once again, Zola suffers indignity, and this sets up the denouement. Vindication! Justice! Vive la France! Overall, the film impresses, but with a running time of just under 2 hours and every minute heavily laden with overacting, wigs, stiff backs and calculated movements it is one whose qualities, like a large Havana cigar, are perhaps best enjoyed by connoisseurs of the genre. The rest of us are unlikely to make it all the way through. Postscript: Many of Emile Zola’s writings are referenced throughout the film, and I wanted to add a final note on this. At Zola’s funeral at the very end of the film the eulogy given includes the following words, a translation of Zola’s (from the 19th century) and here used as a warning to Europe, in the middle of the rise of the Third Reich- : “Do not forget those who fought the battles for you and bought your liberty with their genius and their blood. Do not forget them and applaud the lies of fanatical intolerance. Be human.” Fine advice to all. *Corrected 9/9/18- I previously stated that Napoleon was imprisoned there, but that was the Island of Elba. Silly me. |
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AuthorPablo Griffiths is a man with a passion for many things. He has recently taken an interest in writing about film, and himself in the third person. |