1938: You Can't Take It with You.

Eccentric Martin Vanderhof (Lionel Barrymore) tries to explain
his philosophy to banker Anthony Kirby (Edward Arnold).

Release Date: Aug. 23, 1938. Running Time: 126 minutes. Screenplay: Robert Riskin. Based on the play by: George Kaufman and Moss Hart. Producer: Frank Capra. Director: Frank Capra.


THE PLOT:

Anthony P. Kirby (Edward Arnold), banking and investment mogul, has a plan to put his greatest competitor out of business. There's just one impediment: a single house, owned by aging eccentric Martin Vanderhof (Lionel Barrymore), who refuses to sell at any price.

Martin's house is home to a large family of eccentrics, all of whom spend their days in pursuit of whatever they enjoy. Martin's daughter (Sping Byington) writes plays. Her husband (Samuel S. Hinds) creates fireworks with an iceman (Halliwell Hobbes) who came to make a delivery nine years ago and never left. The newest arrival, Poppins (Donald Meek) is a former accountant who prefers to make toys and monster masks.

The most conventional member of the household is Martin's granddaughter, Alice (Jean Arthur), who is working as a stenographer at Kirby's bank. She has fallen in love with the banker's son, Tony (James Stewart). When Tony proposes marriage, Alice says that she will only marry him with his family's approval and insists on inviting the Kirbys to dinner. But when the banker's family shows up for dinner one day early, they become entangled in all the chaos of the household...

The Kirbys are not amused by the Vanderhofs' chaotic lifestyle.

CHARACTERS:

Alice Sycamore: Jean Arthur's star took off with her first film with Frank Capra, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town. As the most "normal" member of the Vanderhof family, she manages to project enough spark and appeal to maintain our interest. Capra also adapts the play to spotlight her more than the stage version, adding scenes of her bonding with her grandfather and moments between her and Tony: a romantic moment in a park followed by a restaurant scene that ends up just shy of slapstick.

Martin Vanderhof: Lionel Barrymore is splendid as Alice's grandfather, the real center of the film; given the movie's other Oscar wins and nominations, I can scarce credit that he went unrecognized. Martin observes everything from his crutches (added to the script to compensate for Barrymore's advancing arthritis), reacting to all with gentle indulgence in his voice and a knowing twinkle in his eye. For the most part, he is soft spoken even when pressured; but near the end, he blows up at Mr. Kirby, denouncing him as "a dull-witted fool" and "a failure as a human being" - which is all the more effective for the contrast it strikes with the rest of the performance.

Tony Kirby: Is more of a kindred spirit to the Vanderofs than to his own parents. It's all he can do to keep from laughing out loud as Martin confuses an IRS man by asking what he gets for paying taxes; he shows no interest in banking and, in the park with Alice, talks about agricultural experiments he did with a friend in college.  The film plays up Tony's mischievous side, with him surreptitiously planting a sign on Alice's back ("Nuts!") before they go to an upscale restaurant which he disrupts with a prank. James Stewart, in the first of three collaborations with Capra, is good in these moments, and manages to keep the character consistent even in his more serious scenes late in the picture.

Anthony P. Kirby: In his way, Kirby is as much the heart of the film as Martin, who long ago rejected the very life of business and finance that Kirby has embraced. In effect, when the two men meet, each sees the life he might have had. Edward Arnold has a difficult role, having to be the stern antagonist throughout while at the same time giving enough glimpses of humanity to make the ending plausible. When Martin's daughter labels Mrs. Kirby (Mary Forbes)'s interest in the occult "silly," Arnold reacts with a brief smile, and you can sense how pleased he is to hear said something he's been keeping silent about. After the big night, Kirby keeps staring at something Martin gave him: a harmonica, given after his admission that he used to play but gave it up because he no longer has time for foolish pursuits.

Tony (James Stewart) talks with Alice
(Jean Arthur) about his true interests.

THOUGHTS:

I've seen multiple stage productions of You Can't Take It with You, some that were good and one or two that were terrible. As a result, I approached the movie without enthusiasm. Despite a first-rate cast and my great respect for Frank Capra's films, I couldn't help but feel that watching this would be depressingly like sitting down to a rerun of a show I'd already seen a time or two too many.

Happily, I ended up thoroughly enjoying it. Despite the familiar story, Capra's movie feels fresh and new. At several points, I found myself laughing out loud, and a smile rested on my face for the majority of the two-hour running time.

Unlike many vintage movies based on stage works, this always feels like a movie. Capra and screenwriter Robert Riskin have opened it up at every turn, adding scenes and entire subplots, not least of which is the strand with Kirby wanting to purchase the house. We are taken into Kirby's bank and boardroom, as well as to a jail cell and a courtroom - amusingly presided over by a bemused and weary night court judge (Harry Davenport, perfect in a small but very funny role). When Martin talks about how lucky he is to have friends, we now see all those friends - effectively, the entire neighborhood in which he lives.  All of these additions are done with care, the new material sitting seamlessly alongside the old, so that the spirit that made the play so popular remains intact.

Even when sticking to the original text, Capra uses a deft hand. Bad productions of You Can't Take It with You go too far with the chaos and craziness, turning the stage into a noisy and frenetic mess. Capra only allows full chaos to emerge in brief spurts; and when he does, he keeps his focus on the reaction of outsiders (Tony, the IRS man, the Kirbys), rather than on trying to wring laughs purely from the "crazy behavior."  Thus, even the most over-the-top moments remain grounded in humanity.

The Vanderhof home, in all its comfortable daily chaos.

OVERALL:

Did it deserve Best Picture? That's tough to say. If pressed, I would probably have cast my vote for Grand Illusion, the outstanding French World War I movie. But of the 1938 nominees that I've seen, You Can't Take It with You is unquestionably the warmest and most likable. This is a film overflowing with humanity - and it is that, more than anything else, that I think I'll remember it for.


Overall Rating: 9/10.

Outstanding Production - 1937: The Life of Emile Zola
Outstanding Production - 1939: Gone with the Wind

Review Index

To receive new review updates, follow me:

On BlueSky:

Follow @RandomMusings09 on BlueSky

On Threads:

Follow@randommusings09 on Threads

1931/1932: Grand Hotel.

The hotel where "nothing ever happens."

Release Date: Apr. 12, 1932. Running Time: 112 minutes. Screenplay: William A. Drake. Based on the play by: William A. Drake; based on the novel, Menschen im Hotel, by Vicki Baum. Producer: Irving Thalberg. Director: Edmund Goulding.


THE PLOT:

Berlin's Grand Hotel attracts the moneyed and the titled - and the desperate. Current guests include: Grusinskaya (Greta Garbo), a famous ballerina teetering on the brink of depression; Baron von Geigern (John Barrymore), the self-described black sheep of his family who has made a deal with criminals to steal Grusinskaya's pearl necklace; Preysing (Wallace Beery), an industrialist on the brink of bankruptcy; and Otto Kringelein (Lionel Barrymore), an accountant dying of an unspecified illness who has withdrawn every penny he has saved so that he can spend his final days in luxury.

In ordinary circumstances, most of these people would barely brush up against each other. But when the baron falls in love with Grusinskaya and renounces his plan to rob her, it sets off a chain of events that will directly or indirectly impact them all!

Ballerina Grusinskaya (Greta Garbo) falls
for her would-be thief (John Barrymore),

CHARACTERS:

Grusinskaya: "I wish to be alone." Greta Garbo's signature line comes in a performance that is more than a little over-the-top, but I'd argue that's a correct approach for this character.  Grusinskaya lives her life in extremes. When she is depressed, she is actively suicidal; when she is happy, she literally dances around her room, refusing to sit still or sleep. Simply put: Underplaying wouldn't be the way to go with this role.

Garbo does often feel like she's in a different movie from everyone else, but I think this is by design. Grusinskaya is surrounded by servants and associates who are determined to insulate her. She spends the entire movie either in her room or being moved at great haste to the theatre. When a significant event occurs at the movie's end, her servants actively shield her from it, and she ends the movie in ignorance of anything outside her direct line of sight.

Baron Felix von Geigern: Greta Garbo may be "The Star," but John Barrymore is very much this movie's anchor as the gentlemanly would-be thief. Garbo barely interacts with any of her co-stars; Barrymore interacts with all of them. Von Geigern is constantly friendly and charming, though that disguises his desperation. He needs money as a literal matter of life and death. In one scene, he becomes tempted by his friend Kringelein's pocketbook, which is left lying out on the floor. Only Kringelein's panic when he realizes that he's lost it keeps the baron from absconding with it.

Flaemmchen: Joan Crawford is the stenographer employed to assist Preysing with a critical meeting. Her youth and beauty catch his eye, and he eventually proposes an "arrangement" with her... offering too much money for her to refuse, even though she despises him. It's easy to forget how good an actress Joan Crawford was before her descent into self-parody, and her performance here is outstanding. She's the anti-Garbo, communicating her character's feelings with small shifts in facial expression and body language, and her final scenes are all the more powerful for being dominated by the look in her eyes.

Preysing: The closest thing the movie has to a villain. He's a man who has failed upward, projecting success through bluster and bullying while he's actually on the verge of insolvency. It's no surprise when we eventually learn that his financial straits are his own fault, as his ex-bookkeeper scoffs that he'd be fired for his financial mistakes if he was anyone other than the boss. Wallace Beery is letter-perfect, projecting just the right mix of bravado and moral weakness to make Preysing loathsome, yet at the same time all too human.

Otto Kringelein: The "Everyman" character. Kringelein has spent his life working hard and scrimping and saving, as would have been true of most of the contemporary audience. He worked for decades for Preysing, and he has exactly two items on his wishlist: To live his last days in luxury, and to tell Preysing exactly what he thinks of him before the end. He exults about how much he's finally enjoying life - but when he loses his pocketbook, he shows his awareness of how fragile his situation is: "Nobody ever gives you anything for nothing. You have to buy everything, and pay cash for it... Every hour costs money."

Dr. Otternschlag: The disfigured World War I veteran who sharply observes the goings-on. In contrast to the desperate activity of the other characters, Dr. Otternschlag always seems very still. It's clear that his wartime experiences haunt him, while he seems to regard the present as a sort of semi-reality: "A hundred doors leading to one hall. No one knows anything about the person next to them. And when you leave, someone occupies your room, lies in your bed... That's the end."

Meek Kringelein (Lionel Barrymore) attempts to
confront blustery industrialist Preysing (Wallace Beery).

THOUGHTS:

For much of the first half of Grand Hotel, I was bored. I didn't particularly connect with the characters, and I shared a little too much sympathy with Dr. Otternschlag's remark that bookends the film: "Grand Hotel, always the same... Nothing ever happens."

Gradually, I found myself pulled in, and often by the oddest moments. Preysing, bluffing to the representatives of a company he desperately needs to merge with in order to survive. Baron von Geigern, so determined to see that Kringelein has a good time drinking and dancing even as he himself is in desperate straits. By the time Kringelein finally confronts Preysing, I was hooked.

That scene, which happens just past the halfway mark, is a particularly good one, because it doesn't play out as expected. Kringelein doesn't get to have a "hero moment" in which he unequivocally shows up the industrialist.  Instead, Preysing barely notices him as anything other than a nuisance, repeatedly swatting away his words as he focuses more on preparing his proposition to Flaemmchen. Kringelein finally gets out what he has to say, but Preysing seems more bewildered than anything, and even after that seems to see the man as an employee to be bullied... a mistake that costs him at the end.

The characters are well-realized, and in their desperation they reflect each other sufficiently to make for a unified film. Baron von Guigern is too proud to accept money from either Grusinskaya or Kringelein, but he briefly attempts to steal from both of them, only changing his mind once he sees their pain. Preysing tries to project success, and mostly succeeds in making himself look more pathetic. Which doesn't stop him from treating Flaemmchen like a possession even before she agrees to his arrangement, denouncing any interference by Kringelein or von Geigern as "impertinence."

The Great Depression is only vaguely alluded to, when a rival tells Preysing that this is "a very bad time" for a business crisis.  Nevertheless, it hangs over this film and its presentation. The movie cannily plays to preconceptions of the upper classes: The business magnate is a fraud; the aristocratic Baron is a penniless criminal; the fading celebrity is both depressed and cut off from the rest of the world; the working class girl is exploited. This is high-gloss soap opera, but a close watch of it reveals it as anything but happy escapism.

An oblivious Grusinskaya exults in the sun,

OVERALL:

Producer Irving Thalberg effectively created the all star ensemble picture with Grand Hotel, and that cast rises to the occasion by delivering uniformly excellent performances. I found the movie initially hard to connect with. However, as I watched, I became sucked in, and the film itself actually improves the more I turn it over in my mind. The script is expertly constructed, the varying threads bumping into each other just enough to enhance them without actively distracting from any single thread.

Like a lot of older movies, it demands a certain degree of patience. But particularly in its second half, the movie rewards that patience with a deceptively rich moviegoing experience.


Overall Rating: 8/10.

Outstanding Production - 1930/1931: Cimarron
Outstanding Production - 1932/1933: Cavalcade

Review Index

To receive new review updates, follow me:

On BlueSky:

Follow @RandomMusings09 on BlueSky

On Threads:

Follow@randommusings09 on Threads