36. Patricia Neal in 'Hud' (1963)

 

Plot Intro

Three male generations of the Bannon family run a cattle ranch in Texas: patriarch Homer Bannon (Melvyn Douglas), his younger son Hud (Paul Newman) and his Grandson (by Homer’s elder, deceased son) Lonnie (Brandon deWilde). Housekeeper Alma (Patricia Neal) helps keep things in order but Homer and Hud are often at odds due to differing values. But the group must pull together when Homer discovers that foot-and-mouth disease might be rife amongst the cattle, which could destroy their livelihood forever…

Doug says...

Hud is many things all at once. It’s a 1960s Western. It’s a cry for freedom from older generations. It’s a story of a fully unlikable anti-hero. But most of all - it’s a mystery. And the mystery is why Patricia Neal won the Academy Award for Best Actress. 

I didn’t like this film. Its two hours drags interminably as the macho and twat-in-chief Hud (Paul Newman) wrangles with his decent but old-fashioned dad Homer (Melvyn Douglas - best thing in this dull flick) while his young nephew (Brandon deWilde) decides whether to copy his feckless uncle or his principled grandad. It’s a film about intergenerational masculinity and the natural process of rebelling against your parents’ rules and ways of living.

The main plotline goes around whether the entire herd of cows they own have foot and mouth disease (spoiler: they do). Homer feels they must act responsibly and potentially kill all their animals. Hud thinks they should sell them quickly before they have to test them. There’s also an interesting discussion later about how Hud wants to dig for oil while Homer says they’ll put holes in his land over his dead body. This was good but also came right at the end and was a brief moment. There are flashes of interest here - the scene when Homer stoically kills all his beloved cows is very powerful, and I liked the actual discussions between old and young which boiled down to old American thinking versus the newer capitalist priorities. These discussions however are far and few between. 

You might be wondering why I haven’t mentioned Patricia Neal yet. There’s a good reason. She’s on screen for twenty minutes and her character is totally irrelevant to the overarching plot. You could, in a swift rewrite, take her character out and the film wouldn’t change in any way. She does a decent job with a non-role but why she got the big trophy rather than ‘Best Supporting Actress’ is genuinely the most intriguing thing about this film. She just acts a bit flirty and gives an impression of a woman who’s been through the wringer. Not exactly award-worthy. 

It’s particularly amusing how Hollywood gave an award to Best Actress to a film entirely about three men. It reminds me of the recent BBC sketch where a casting director gives the lead female role of a new series to Tom Hiddleston. Were there no better films in this year? 

Brandon deWilde is another of those Hollywood legends - a highly successful child actor in The Member of the Wedding and more, he then died at 30 in a car crash. He’s 21 here and it’s interesting to see him in what would eventually be a stunted attempt at transitioning to adult films. But really Melvyn Douglas shines in this film (and won Best Supporting Actor) - overtaking Newman who is working hard but failing to make the deeply unlikable Hud a compelling watch. 

Highlight

The scene when Douglas watches as his beloved cows are put down is actually horrible and moving, largely due to his performance. 

Lowlight

The machismo that drenches this film is just very dull. The idea that there was a lead female role to win the award is laughable.

Mark

2/10

Paul says...

I disagree a little bit with Doug in that I think Patricia Neal is great in Hud but I do agree that a Best Lead Actress win is completely overselling her role and Best Supporting would have been infinitely more appropriate. 

It’s not so much the length of time she has on screen that’s the problem. She has the shortest amount of screentime of all Best Actress winners, with just 21 minutes, and the third lowest percentage of screentime, appearing in a mere 19.5%. But the Academy has often valued quality over quantity when it comes to acting performances. Anthony Hopkins famously only appears in 21% of The Silence of the Lambs and his is a Best Actor-winning performance that has been endlessly quoted, misquoted and parodied. Other shockingly short Oscar-winning performances include Judi Dench’s five mins in Shakespeare in Love, Louise Fletcher’s 22 minutes in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and even Julie Andrews is only in 33% of Mary Poppins. Hermione Baddeley, nominated for Room at the Top, achieved the nomination with just two minutes of screentime. 

But in all of these examples, the character, despite their brevity, is of the utmost importance to the film. They either drive it, begin it or conclude it and a rewrite to remove them would provoke many plot alterations. In the case of Neal, she could have quite easily have not been there. Neal does well to depict earthy, hard-nosed life on a ranch, portraying a woman who is dedicated to survival through work and has set aside any personal aspirations she may have. Her most significant scenes such as a conversation with Hud before her departure and an attempted rape scene (spoiler alert AND content warning there, guys) help develop other male characters but don’t give anything to Alma. This is in stark contrast to pretty much all other Best Actress-winning performances who, even if they are not the top billed performer, are nonetheless front and centre of the action and outshining everyone around them.

Also Hud, as a film, is a somewhat dusty and outdated work. If you’re doing a study of '60s counterculture and generational conflict, then it’s a fascinating primary source. We have three generations of men who represent those generations’ interactions at the time of the film’s release. Homer is part of what is colloquially known as The Greatest Generation (born between 1901 and 1927), a generation defined by strict, solid values and traditions thanks to their 19th-century upbringings and being heavily affected by the Great Depression and both World Wars. Hud is of the Silent Generation (1928 to 1945), whose childhood was lost to poverty and warfare, and as a result rebels, either rationally or irrationally, against Homer’s conservative outlook. Finally, Lonnie is the young, idealistic and forward-thinking Baby Boomer (1946 to 1964) who, thanks to post-war improvements in technology and education, has more doors open to him and is still formulating his ambitions in life- should he follow in the traditional footsteps of his grandfather or do what his Uncle Hud probably should have done and leave the Arse End of Nowhere, Texas, for pastures new? 

The interaction between the three must have been extremely identifiable to almost all adult audiences in the early '60s. But to our eyes some of the characters’ actions left us a little perturbed. It is never fully explained why Hud is so horrid to his father. He consistently criticises, insults and disobeys Homer and Homer, in the meantime, is calm, kind, stalwart and makes rational decisions (even if he is emotionally suppressed). Indeed, Paul Newman deliberately played Hud as a villain. He’s narcissistic, abusive, an alcoholic, a misogynist, and an attempted rapist. And Newman was surprised when younger audiences ended up idolising him. Posters of Hud would appear on young men’s walls and he became one of many symbols of '60s counterculture rebellion. I can only imagine that, at a time when the young outnumbered the old so significantly post-war, men were attracted to Hud’s physical prowess, impossible good looks and success with women. He’s a male incel’s dream and probably should have been played by an actor who wasn’t hot as hell. The three men certainly symbolise the generational difficulties of the time, but through a modern lens Hud especially is an irrational dickhead, Lonnie needs to get the hell out of the house, and Homer deserves far better, which I don’t think was the initial point of the film. 

Having said that, I agree with Doug that the storyline around the cattle catching foot and mouth is well executed. The film does well to emphasise how devastating this is to people whose entire life is solely cattle-rearing and did not have the same technological and scientific prevention measures, plus the financial security, to protect themselves against such a catastrophe. Melvyn Douglas as Homer fully deserved his Best Supporting Actor Oscar as he injects so much power into Homer’s steely yet devastating decision to slaughter the entire herd. 

But overall, Hud is, well, a bit of a dud. Its social commentary is a bit lost in the sands of time, there’s not a shred of levity to keep the pace up, and the central character himself was misinterpreted from the day of the film’s release. It made me yearn for our next Best Actress winning performance, a timeless classic that is practically perfect in every way…

Highlight

The scene in which Homer, Hud and Lonnie have their worst fears confirmed about the cattle is very well shot, with wide angles and the herd wandering and mooing loudly in the distance. While the acting from Melvyn Douglas is outstanding in the foreground, we are reminded that the consequence (and subsequent scene) will mean the total death of every cow in the background.

Lowlight

The attempted rape scene is icky, unnecessary and without any proper consequence. Alma even has the nerve to tell Hud, her would-be rapist, that she may have even let him because he looks hot in a vest (yes, ladies and gentleman, that is in the script). It’s not exactly the lesson in sexual relations that we want to be teaching young people.

Mark

3/10

35. Anne Bancroft in 'The Miracle Worker' (1962)

 

Plot intro

Alabama, 1887. The Keller family don’t know what to do with their seven-year-old deaf-blind daughter Helen (Patty Duke). They have very few ways to communicate with her and she wanders the house and grounds like a lost animal. Horrified by the idea that she may end up in an asylum, they hire a young woman named Anne Sullivan (Anne Bancroft), a partially-sighted tutor who is determined to show Helen how to connect with the world.

Paul says...

Our journey through the Best Actress Oscar has, so far, been a little disappointing throughout the 1950s. While we’ve seen strong performances and some fun and interesting pieces, nothing has impressed or wowed us. Not since '40s movies such as Gaslight, The Farmer’s Daughter and The Heiress have I felt motivated to re-watch anything. But along comes The Miracle Worker to obliterate this string of mediocrity. It is one of the most moving, fascinating and emotional films that we’ve blogged about; a hidden, somewhat-forgotten gem in Academy Awards history.

It wasn’t at all what I expected. When discovering it was about the relationship between Helen Keller and the tutor who taught her to communicate, I braced myself for a twee, saccharine tale with earnest speeches about education and disabilities. But this film has not one sentimental bone in its body. As the film opens, we quickly discover that seven-year-old Helen Keller is like a feral animal. She knocks things over and breaks things without thought of consequence, takes food and drink from others’ plates, and lashes out at anyone who tries to stop or steady her. Her parents have essentially given up. They adore their daughter, but are convinced she cannot learn otherwise, so they don’t teach her to be a part of society. As a result, like all humans who have been allowed too much control (regardless of age and ability), Helen resorts to physical violence to get what she wants- and often wins.

When Anne Sullivan arrives, Helen doesn’t undergo a sudden, miraculous (despite the title) transformation into an angelic Mary Sue. Goodness me, no. The two of them have lengthy brawls and conflicts that would make a cage fighter wince. Anne is determined to show Helen that she can only have what she wants if she asks for it, whether that be by hand gesture, touch or whatever sounds she can make. But the spoiled, ferocious and terrified Helen has other ideas. A breakfast scene in which Anne forces Helen to ask for food, sit at her own place and eat with a spoon involves hitting, kicking, dragging across the floor, throwing objects, and throwing water. It lasts nearly 10 minutes. It’s a gruelling, vicious process in which you are cheering Anne to keep going and crying out for Helen to heed Anne’s lesson. It’s a realistic reminder that teaching children, particularly SEND (Special Educational Needs and Disabilities) children, is rarely a beautiful, serene process, but more often an uncomfortable and confrontational one. As a primary school teacher, it was quite triggering. 

The energy that both Bancroft and Duke required for these scenes (and there are several) is unparalleled. You can see the sweat and exhaustion in them and apparently they had padding under their costumes to avoid injury although God knows how they protected their faces and hands. Both of them won Oscars for these roles and both deserved it. Duke especially (who, incidentally, is the mother of Sean Astin, Sam from Lord of the Rings) moves with the scared, erratic clumsiness of someone who is genuinely deaf-blind. It is remarkable that she defeated Angela Lansbury and Thelma Ritter to the award without a single line of dialogue. Bancroft also delivers one of the greatest Best Actress performances ever. Her speech to Helen’s parents about her experiences in an asylum, a place where society would put away any woman who is inconvenient to society (the elderly, the disabled, the poor and, she infers, the homosexual) is chilling. Her tenacity and ruthless kindness towards Helen bursts from the screen. She defeated hot favourite Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? and as much as I love Davis in that film, Bancroft is a more deserving winner. The award was famously accepted by Davis’ co-star and arch-nemesis Joan Crawford, much to Davis’ fury (or so the legends say).

Another aspect of the film I appreciated was the depiction of Helen’s parents and brother. It would have been so easy to show them as cruel, distant, bigoted. But the writing is very fair to them. They are understandably stressed and terrified about Helen’s future. Without any education regarding Helen’s potential, they come to the very natural (though incorrect) conclusion that Helen will never really do anything. Anne Sullivan was just 20 years old when they hired her with no tutoring experience other than her own partial blindness. The film reiterates that their hiring of her is a desperate and last resort, and one they very nearly give up on. I felt myself internally screaming at them to keep Anne in their employ, to believe her, and to keep going. 

The Miracle Worker is an emotional film, one in which you feel the stress, anger and exhilaration of every character so that Helen’s eventual communication at the climax is a relief like no other. While Helen Keller (who was still alive at the time of the film’s release and met Patty Duke) and others had campaigned for disability rights and education in the USA and internationally, it was not until after WWII that real progress and research was made into understanding SEND and finding ways to educate children who, in the past, would have been locked away from society. The '50s and '60s was a time of reassessment and rebuilding post-war and The Miracle Worker, with its powerful and energetic messages of integrating, educating and finding the true potential in children with disabilities, is an important work of art in this period. 

Highlight

Later in the film, Anne finally manages to get Helen to follow and obey household routines, most importantly sitting at the table and eating food from her own plate like the rest of the family. As the family gathers for their first meal after this change, director Arthur Penn frames the dining room with lovely symmetry, suggesting serenity and peace at last. But quietly, out of the corner of your eye, you notice that Helen is refusing to wear her napkin (a rule of the household). Slowly you realise that, despite her disabilities, Helen, just like any other child, will try to push boundaries and assert control. Carnage, of course, ensues. 

Lowlight

None at all- I was captivated from start to finish. I was cheering on every character to succeed as if I was watching a sports event in which I supported both sides.

Mark

10/10

Doug says...

Was…was this film made yesterday? I only ask because it feels so fresh that I wouldn’t be surprised to find out we accidentally watched a remake that took modern parenting and disability challenges into account. Also, after the last three films - Signoret in Room at the Top (unfaithful, bitter, dies horribly); Taylor in BUtterfield 8 (promiscuous, flippant, dies horribly) and Loren in Two Women (wild, promiscuous, raped and broken) - to see this story of resilient women winning at life is like cool water flowing over my skin (yes, that’s a reference). 

Not since we watched Rocky in our Best Films project has a film been such a surprise. I settled down to watch two hours of awkward, ableist film-making and instead found myself utterly glued to the screen for two hours. It ended and I was annoyed there wasn’t another hour. 

Paul’s gone into detail on why this film is so outstanding but I have to echo him and talk about the breakfast scene. Bancroft is exceptional in showing how Anne Sullivan is outraged at the Kellers’ refusal to try and teach Helen how to behave. The ensuing lengthy scene in which Helen and Anne battle it out is ferocious, gritty - and realistic. I think it’s hugely telling that they played these parts on Broadway because they are utterly inside these roles. Patty Duke, playing deaf-blind despite being neither (I know it’s problematic but this was 1962) is so convincing in her movement. There is a desperation and loneliness that drips through her whole performance and the fear - yet fascination - with Anne who refuses to act as others do is phenomenal. 

I do want to shout out to the actors playing the family. Victor Jory and Inga Swenson do sterling work as the adoring, helpless parents who don’t know how to treat their daughter and Andrew Prine found real depths in the half-brother who is torn between a nihilistic abandonment of his sister and holding his parents to account for their less-than-amazing approach to parenting. 

Let’s be frank. This is Bancroft’s film. Yes, there’s the amazing monologue where she tells them of her horrifying start in life and when Mrs Keller starts to look pitying, she snaps and says ‘No! It made me strong!’ But it’s everything else she does here that nabs it for me. The amused way she looks at Helen when she realises how clever the deaf-blind girl is. The passion with which she refuses to ever give up. ‘Give them back their dog and their child, both housebroken’ she snarls when the parents, satisfied that Helen has learnt some table manners, insist she come back to them. 

She wants more for Helen - she wants her to connect with the world and be able to be part of it. It’s not about being obedient, it’s about not being alone and isolated. The famous water pump scene is deeply moving in how hard-earned it has been, not just for Anne and Helen, but also for us as viewers. Nothing has come easy in this film - and it’s telling that it ends before Helen learns how to speak a single word (which the real Keller did learn to). This is the hardest bit of her journey, but there’s still a long way to go. 

Director Arthur Penn holds true and steady throughout. The scene Paul mentions with the napkin being dropped is so brilliantly shot that it would receive laudits if it were released tomorrow. The happy family, reunited, and certain that everything is good again are back and celebrating - and a simple napkin being dropped becomes chillingly ominous. I didn’t love the note of Anne telling Helen she loves her at the end because it struck a slightly schmaltzy note in a gritty, no-holds-barred film - but I’m being picky.

Highlight

Bancroft is a revelation. The fury when she upbraids the stern father for his collusive behaviour, the softness with which she approaches the wild Helen - and her astonishing muscularity as she hauls Helen from chair to table. It’s unlike any other performance we’ve seen so far.  

Lowlight

The aforementioned hint of schmaltz at the end - and an oddly abrupt ending left me a tiny bit cold. No title cards? No quick wrapping up or summary of Helen’s life afterwards? But these are quibbles. An astonishing piece of work.

Mark

10/10