20. Gentleman's Agreement (1947)

Plot Intro

Philip Green (Gregory Peck) is a widower journalist who has just moved from California to New York with his mother (Anne Revere) and son (Dean Stockwell). An editor, Mr Minify (Albert Dekker) asks him to write a big, ground-breaking piece on antisemitism. Green, whilst also falling in love with Minify’s niece, Kathy Kacy (Dorothy McGuire), decides to pretend to be Jewish in order to see what Jewish people are subjected to in late-40’s America. He soon finds himself unable to book certain hotel rooms, kept hidden from his girlfriend’s well-to-do family, and finds his own son to be bullied and ostracised by other children at school. Yup, it’s THAT bad.

Doug says...

Hatred is an ugly thing. Which makes it perfect for the subject of an Oscar winning film! Only two years after the end of World War II, and the subsequent reveal of the Holocaust and to what depths of humanity the Nazis had abominably gone to, is a film about anti-semitism. What is all the more interesting then is the fact that no one mentions the Holocaust or even the War. This is not a film about huge, overt signs of hatred, it is far more focused on the tiny minute differences that eventually build up into the huge things. The Holocaust didn’t happen out of nowhere, anti-semitism was carefully built up and maintained, added to. 

I’ve just finished reading Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale and there’s a worrying symmetry to this refrain. Nothing happens out of the blue - hatred starts small, a disliking, whispers, which then build into a refusal to let a woman carry money or a Jewish person take a room at an exclusive hotel. Then of course we are on the deadly track and we end with death and utter chaos. 

So the matter of this movie is extraordinarily important, and there are some standout moments too. A scene where a Jewish soldier is abused by a drunken man whose friends immediately hush him up and apologise - yet we are left thinking they’re only sorry for him speaking those thoughts out loud. Another where Philip Green’s fiance Kathy pleads that she isn’t anti-semitic but then reveals she said nothing when a man made a revolting joke about Jews and only sat there, stewing with disgust. It’s that moment which captures the point of this film - you have to say something. Sure, you don’t hate this sector of humanity, but you don’t care enough to speak up when they’re attacked. And that will eventually roll and build into disaster. 

The author, Moss Hart, is a well-known name in this era of showbiz, and such a weighty script from him is a rarity. It’s sometimes utterly transcendent - the moment when Philip Green’s heavily pro-equality mother declares she wants to live longer in order to see the world become more equal is fantastic - and then in rather too many places it becomes mawkish sentimentality. There’s far too many ‘stage-kisses’, there’s a hell of a lot of speeches that are meant to be stirring and end up a bit too saccharine even for me. 

I’m also - dare I say it - getting rather sick of the dewy-eyed heroine role who could be played by the same actress in each of the last few films, for all the different it makes. It’s not that Dorothy McGuire who plays Kathy is bad necessarily, just that she’s a carbon copy of Teresa Wright from The Best Years of Our Lives and Jane Wyman from The Lost Weekend. This is largely the fault of the writers and directors, but then when they give us women like Celeste Holm’s character Anne Dettrey, who is fiery and anti-hypocrite and stands up for justice, there’s no excuse. Even though Kathy’s change of heart is vital, she could at least be a bit more interesting. 

Acting wise, it’s pretty standard although I will always admire Celeste Holm who brings fire and passion to anything she does - in High Society she’s a comic highlight and I love her in All About Eve which we are seeing in a few weeks time. Gregory Peck is fine as the increasingly angry writer Philip - and by god is he attractive. They do not make film stars like that anymore. Ultimately though, while this film is important and they tackle the subject matter well, I’m beginning to get tired of the rather dated stage-acting and tendency to allow mawkishness to rule. 

Highlight 

The moment when Philip storms into a hotel that is ‘exclusive’ (ie doesn’t let Jews in but they don’t say it explicitly) and gets stage-managed out by the Manager who won’t say why is INFURIATING. More of this would have been better. 

Lowlight

Aside from all the long saccharine speeches, the one scene where Gregory Peck and Dorothy McGuire did three terrible stage-kisses in thirty seconds was just awful.  

Mark 

6.5/10

Paul says...

The 1940’s has become slightly Sesame Street in its “topic of the week” films. We’ve tackled poverty, refugees, alcoholism and PTSD, and this week, kids, our word of the day is…..antisemitism! 

As Doug explains, Gentleman’s Agreement tackles that small-minded, subtle racial prejudice that exists in the little comments and actions we make. As terrible as Nazi protestors in Charlottesville are, what this film points out is that, just as horrible are comments like “I’m not racist but I don’t date black people” or “I’m not homophobic- I work next to a lesbian.” Here, Green is furious to discover that hotels are suddenly fully-booked when they realise he is Jewish, and that his own girlfriend is prevaricating around introducing him to her excessively white-Christian family. His ailing mother’s doctor doesn’t have anything bad to say about Jewish medical consultants- but doesn’t outrightly recommend them also. 

What the film does so well is depicting this list of mini-vilifications which are relatively harmless on their own but, together, form a prejudiced and hypocritical society. It would have been so easy to have had bad people with swastikas on their heads yelling “I hate Jews!”, but instead characters’ wrongdoings and derogatory comments can sometimes be unnoticeable. This is so relevant in today’s society where inequality is more commonly camouflaged beneath, for instance, a US President who won’t condemn a group of Nazis or a TV corporation who pays their male staff a lot more than their female. A modern-day remake of this film could have a male journalist pretending to be homosexual in a football club. 

It’s not absolutely perfect, however. I must admit that the first half hour left me thinking “oh God” because the set-up was slow to get going, and we have to sit through scenes in which Green explains antisemitism and religious conflict with his son just like, in fact, an episode of Sesame Street. The writers could have had faith in its audience’s education to know what the characters are talking about. Also, like The Lost Weekend, there is a cop-out feel-good ending to the central romance which left me somewhat infuriated and even insulted by how easily Green can forgive Kathy’s own racial prejudice.

The director, Elia Kazan, and Gregory Peck himself would later criticise the movie for having a lack of power and losing its relevance over time. Admittedly, this is true, but I enjoyed its heartfelt analysis of an uncomfortable and inconspicuous topic. Gentleman’s Agreement does what every good piece of art should do- it holds a mirror up to society and says “Look at yourself, this is what you are. Now, change!”

Highlight

When Philip Green’s son comes home to reveal he has been insulted by bullies at school who have called him many racial slurs that I can’t type here. It features some surprisingly good acting from a child.

Lowlight

The ending in which Kathy’s prejudices and horrific attitude towards social minorities is suddenly forgiven and she gets a very undeserved happy conclusion.

Mark

8/10

19. The Best Years Of Our Lives (1946)

Plot Intro

The Second World War has ended and three US servicemen return home, all suffering from varying degrees of PTSD. Al Stephenson (Fredric March) returns to his wife Milly (Myrna Loy - last seen in 1936’s The Great Ziegfeld) and daughter Peggy (Teresa Wright- last seen in 1942's Mrs Miniver), but struggles to adapt to his old job at a heartless, unforgiving bank. Fred Derry (Dana Andrews) returns to a nightclub dancing wife who he rapidly discovers to be insensitive and self-involved, so he begins a relationship with Peggy. Finally, Homer Parrish (Howard Russell), whose hands were blown off in an explosion and replaced with hooks, and finds it hard to adapt to life as an invalid.

Paul says...

The Best Years of Our Lives was released in 1946 and is all about the army returning home. It’s no wonder it became one of the most successful films of all time and beat Laurence Olivier’s Henry V and It’s A Wonderful Life to the Best Picture crown at the Oscars. You couldn’t get more relevant if you tried. It continues the 40’s trend of small-scale pictures involving everyday people dealing with everyday problems (last week’s Issue of the Week was alcoholism, this week is the war ending), a far-cry from the grandeur and opulence of the 30’s. It’s so small-scale that director William Wyler had the characters’ outfits bought off the rack, and the sets built small to create a sense of domestic realism.

With these ambitions in mind, it’s pretty successful. It explores various issues around servicemen returning home with empathy and subtlety, such as their struggle to go from the chaos of war to the relative peace of family life, their families’ struggle to sympathise with their pain, and their battle to gain employment (which proves difficult due to the employers’ refusal to see armed service as a skilled profession). Audiences at the time would have identified no-end. For us, it’s a thorough examination but more like a documentary; a vision of what life was like for these men and their families.

Homer has by far the most emotional storyline. In fact, I really wanted the film to be all about him, his family and his girlfriend who is desperately trying to prove that his disability is not an impediment for her love for him. His family are torn between trying to carry on as if his lack of hands is not something that bothers them, but are also concerned that it IS bothering him and are unsure how to discuss it. It’s a complex and heart-breaking situation, dealt with very tenderly and without turning too maudlin. But, for me, it is too brief due to Al and Fred’s less-powerful storylines taking up time. Al’s battle with egregious bankers is concluded very early and easily, while Fred’s love triangle is predictable right from the start. By concentrating solely on Homer, the film could have had as much punch as last week’s offering, and been trimmed down from it’s inordinate 172 minutes to a much neater 2 hours. 

Having said that, we commented frequently on how inspiring and important this film must have been. The message is not a simple “soldier are heroes and should be treated as such”, but rather, “soldiers are heroes BUT they need help to readjust because, I don’t know if you noticed, but fighting a war is not all that glamorous and sometimes hurts”. Like Mrs Miniver, this film is Important with a capital I and provides our generation with insight into an aspect of the war we don’t tend to learn in Key Stage 3. It’s just a shame that the other two-thirds of the story didn’t live up to the standard set by Homer’s disability. 

Highlight

The scene in which Homer and his girlfriend finally speak frankly about his disability and how it will affect their relationship. It’s not over-written, it’s sweet without being saccharine (always a plus for me), and sensitively acted. 

Lowlight

Fred, for me, was the weak point of the film. His character and his storyline was pretty swiftly predicted by both of us- a quick re-write could have cut him out or reduced him to a supporting role.

Mark

6/10

Doug says...

This is a lovely film. What’s particularly great for me about it is that it follows three very different paths and shows us across the spectrum what life would have been like for returning servicemen. I also loved the realism with which the film attacks this subject. There are no hordes of cheering women and children, there is no glamour and indeed the returning heroes seem a little taken aback at times by the lack of any importance attached to their role as war heroes by the rest of the world. In one fantastic scene, Al has returned to his wife and children, and is being quizzed on Hiroshima by his teenage son. Al is intent on keeping the subject strictly on ‘them and us’ to the extent he presents his son with a dead Japanese soldier’s flag (inscribed with good luck messages from the ex-soldier’s family), but all his son wants to know about is the effects of the atom bomb in Hiroshima. 

In fact, the sense that the war is embarrassing, and the rest of the world has moved on quickly is something that subtly pervades the entire piece. Marie (a fabulously villain-esque performance from Virginia Mayo) at one point turns to her war-sobered husband Fred and berates him for being stuck in the past. ‘Just move on’ she tells him heartlessly, before leaving him for another ex-soldier who wants to go dancing in nightclubs. 

Unlike Paul, I found the three intertwining stories constantly engaging, and was actually drawn in by all three pathways. We have the financially successful (Al Stephenson) who returns to his banking job to be troubled by his conscience about how far his bank will go to help veterans, we have the dashingly handsome but impoverished Fred whose character has clearly changed since before the war, and finally we have the real star of the film Homer who must adapt to civilian life without hands. The way they progress is of no real shock, and it is much more a case of a story well-told than a groundbreaking narrative. But there’s no real dead air in this lengthy film, and I never once found myself wondering where we were in the story. 

Tt has to be agreed that this film is given heart and grounding by the casting of a disabled ex-soldier as Homer (Howard Russell), we are aware here we are seeing how disabled - and specifically - hand-less men would actually cope post-war.  The dexterity and confidence with which Russell opens a door, lights a match, or, in one beautifully underplayed moment, puts a wedding ring on is inspiring today - let alone back then when this rudimentary technology of hooks was all that was available. 

The performances are to a tee understated (even Virgina Mayo’s small turn as the vicious Marie strikes real notes) and its a sharp, sweet piece. Little moments such as when Homer loses his temper at the prying kids in his family and shouts are tempered by his instant remorse and apology to the kids who are in tears themselves at having upset him. I think that’s possibly the best thing about this film - all the characters are understandable and (with the exception of Marie who is after all just a ‘good-time gal’) they all just want the best for each other. A perfect Sunday afternoon viewing. 

   

Highlight

Like Paul, I think the moment when Homer and Wilma finally get to open up and talk to each other - and Wilma gets to tell Homer how little the hooks affect her love for him is a beautifully underplayed and real moment. I did end up a little teary. 

Lowlight

There’s a moment when Fred is revealed as a war hero. It’s unnecessary, does nothing for the plot, and seems an eleventh-hour attempt to flesh out arguably the least interesting character.

Mark

8.5/10

18. The Lost Weekend (1945)

Plot Intro

Struggling writer, Don Birnam (Ray Milland) is an alcoholic. He is pretty much in the care of his brother, Wick, and his girlfriend, Helen (Jane Wyman). But over the period of a long weekend in which his brother goes away for a bit, Don’s condition takes a turn for the worse, and soon he is stealing to pay for booze, pawning off his typewriter, ending up in hospital - and contemplating suicide. 

Doug says...

The Lost Weekend is a really odd film to happen right now. We’ve reached the final year of WWII, there’s been uplifting films about war heroism (Mrs Miniver), there’s been films exploring different areas of the war (Casablanca) and even in last week’s dire Going My Way, a character appeared in uniform, clearly off to do battle. So having a film which eschews even a mention of war, and instead explores the danger of alcoholism is a startling break with the flow of continuity. 

What Paul and I set out to do with this project was partly alleviate our Sunday blues, but also discover lost gems and study a particular angle of cinematic history. For me, this has turned out to be one of those gems. It’s superbly made, and differs from my other ‘newly found’ favourite How Green Was My Valley in the sheer, uncompromising unsentimentality. We see Don Birnam fall into every trap, sinking to the worst depths in order to gain his precious liquor: he steals, he begs, and in one extraordinarily powerful scene he tears apart his own apartment, desperately trying to find a bottle of whisky that he had drunkenly stowed somewhere for safe-keeping. 

I’ve often said that I find male performances on screen much harder to get into. I find women more interesting in life, and that’s reflected on screen - I’m much more likely to be drawn to an actress’ performance as I generally find them more filled with nuance. However it is a tour-de-force from Ray Milland as the drunkard Don. His hands flutter constantly, he puts his cigarettes in his mouth the wrong way round, and when he begins to hallucinate a nightmarish scene with a bat and mouse in his living room, his fear carries over into us, and I found myself tense with worry. 

But what I particularly liked about this film was the depth it imbued every character with. Gloria, a girl from the pub who seems to be some sort of escort is silly, yes, but she gives Don money after he’s stood her up on a date, timidly asking whether he doesn’t like her after all - even a bit. It’s a heartbreaking moment, where we see the damaged and unhappy people all around him. The local barman Nat tenses, every time he has to pour the sozzled Don a drink, while Don’s brother Wick begins by lying to all Don’s friends for him, and ends up abandoning him angrily. It’s a piece wrought with very real reactions and feelings, and although it has a slightly forced ending with his girlfriend (a well-acted Jane Wyman) coming through for him, I can see the need for a film of this sort to have at least a glimmer of hope. Having said that, it is by no means conclusive as to whether any form of sobriety will last. 

Having said this, I thought while watching this how relevant this issue still is (and may always be). Last year ‘People, Places and Things’ at the National Theatre took London audiences by storm. David Hare’s ‘My Zinc Bed’ was so divisive that one critic called it ‘evil’. The topic of alcoholism is extraordinarily relevant, and it is surprising to see it dealt with in such a modern way, back in 1945. And I suppose it is easy to push for an always unhappy ending, but the inspiring thing about this is that people do manage to go through it and come out the other end. People like Ozzy Osbourne who have publicly faced their demons and survived. Perhaps we all need a bit of inspiring. Perhaps a positive ending isn’t necessarily a cop-out. 

Highlight 

There’s a few key scenes which are phenomenal. Specifically the scene where Don tears his flat apart, the scene in the Alcoholic Ward where all the patients scream with night terrors, and a remarkable sequence where Don walks the streets trying to find an open pawnbroker only to find they are all closed because of a Jewish holiday. They help highlight the desperation and irrationality of a person controlled by this illness. 

Lowlight

The music, while sometimes stirring, verges on intrusive in a few scenes. Having said this, apparently they did trial runs without music before releasing it and audiences found it too comic. 

Mark 

10/10 for this unknown masterpiece 

Paul says...

Imagine a world where alcoholism is just something that people who are more unfortunate than yourself have. Words like “intervention” and “cognitive behavioural therapy” have different meanings or are unheard of. Alcoholics on the verge of breakdown must rely solely on the sympathy and kindness of their family and friends, and occasionally spend nights in hospital wards that are more like lunatic asylums, with deranged patients and indifferent nurses. 

That is what The Lost Weekend tackles, and it is no wonder it caused a stir in 1945. It makes a point of stating that there are many people out there tackling the demons that Don faces, and that these people need help, not ridicule or another ineffective night in a ward. The hero of the piece is far from heroic. The film does not shy away from depicting him like most sufferers of addiction- i.e. vulnerable, manipulative, self-involved, even sometimes cruel. It also isn’t afraid to say words like “suicide”. The film may be short, but it is far from sweet- it’s blunt and it packs a punch.

That is what is so refreshing and enthralling about it. Ray Milland is a far-cry from the masculine heroics of Humphrey Bogart, or the saccharine apotheosis of Bing Crosby. He displays a man tearing himself and others apart with the right combination of nuance and passion. We feel for him, whilst also getting frustrated at him as he repeatedly steals and lies to get another bottle of alcohol. It’s hard to create such conflicting emotions in your audience, but Milland left me flawed. Jane Wyman is also brilliant as his girlfriend. It would be so easy to depict her as the victim, or as ruthlessly unfeeling towards him, but she’s neither. She doesn’t have the unquestionable heroism of Greer Garson, or the meekness of Ingrid Bergman. She’s tough, desperate for Don to improve and hopelessly dedicated to him, but far from pathetic. Unlike the grand epics of the 30’s and acts of heroism in the early ’40’s, this is a deep psychological study of these very real but unorthodox leading characters. This, plus setting it across a truncated timespan of one weekend, gives it a “Catcher in the Rye” feel. Suddenly, our fictional heroes don’t carry swords or guns- they carry empty whiskey bottles and pawn broker tickets.

Two awfully pedantic points stop me from giving The Lost Weekend a full 10. Firstly, I wanted more information about Don’s reasons for his alcoholism. He gives a speech about his inability to write successfully, and also chickens out from meeting Helen’s parents because he overhears them already judging his career and life. This suggests that he has serious self-esteem issues but it felt too brief. The film describes what alcoholism is, and what the consequences are, but doesn’t show enough interest in the causes. Secondly, the ending is horribly easy, and makes it seem as if alcoholism can go away pretty quickly. If this film were made now, such outright attempts at sentimentality to soften the blow of this dark drama would not be forgiven- they would be jeered, even condemned.

Nonetheless, this is a fantastic break from those lessons of noble heroism that we have seen throughout the war years, and hopefully we will see a shift away from the “Mrs Miniver era” as the post-war years dawn upon us. 

Highlight

The flashback scene in which Don reveals his condition to Helen. He initially allows his brother to cover for him, but quickly admits the truth. And Helen, with true candour, takes the information in and promises to help. 

Lowlight

The contrived ending conflicted with the tone of the film too much for me. More misery, dammit!

Mark

9/10