There are no Grapes on Screen
I saw this film in the summer of 1940, in downtown Chicago. I was only 22 then, a lad longing to see what else the art world had to offer. I ended up snoozing for most of the experience.
Prepare yourself for one of the most BOR-RING movies of the 20th century! I thought I had seen it at it's worst when the family went to see Howards End that lonely Christmas Eve back in 1992. Boy was I wrong. At least THAT film had attractive people to look at. Not a pretty picture here.
The Grapes of Wrath stars Henry Fonda (the only decent looking person on the big screen) as an ex-convict who returns home to his farm and discovers it's all gone. For some reason, the Great Depression has caused richer men from town to come by and say "We own this now. Get out."
When Fonda realizes his family is still safe and sound in their log cabin in the middle of dust land, he heaves a sigh of relief. "Hiya Ma! Hiyerr Pa! And how's GRANDPA?" The eclectic conversation skills from these characters is outstanding- NOT! Turns out Ma and Pa are dirt broke too, and everyone agrees it's time to head west to the great state of California! "We's can pick grapes there and get paid real's nice. Enough to get Ma that new bathrobe she been wanting."
Ma is played by a boisterous and unattractive actress named Jane Darwell. She won the Oscar for best supporting actress. All she does is look sullen and distressed, and her dialogue consists mainly of mumbling and drying her eyes. The award should have gone to Judith Anderson in Alfred Hitchcock's MUCH better film Rebecca, as the eery housekeeper. At least that film rightfully won the top prize.
John Ford helms this tiresome romp through middle America. And he actually won best director. Really? He creates a glum atmosphere that's scenic for sure, but not very interesting. The group travel on a big ugly wagon with wheels. On their journey to the land of plenty, they end up losing grandpa and grandma. Grandpa is a reckless alcoholic, who's mind is already bye-bye by the time they get him to agree to go.
The closeups of the people are what make the story so repulsive and gross. Nobody wears any makeup. No one dresses or owns one for that matter. Ma wears knit sweaters you would buy in outdoor market places in Madrid. And The rest of the cast might have just well rolled out of bed. Unkept, dirty and not appealing. Henry Fonda is lucky he was so beautiful because without his handsome presence, the movie would have sunk worse.
Fonda apparently was supposed to win Best Actor. He lost to James Stewart in The Philadelphia Story. I side with the academy. The latter is a witty, humorous writer who falls in love with Katharine Hepburn. Fonda's character is simple, arrogant and belongs in prison. He and his entire broke ass family are a bunch of hicks. I laughed when their stupid station WAGON kept falling apart, breaking down and even stopped by the cops.
So what happens in The Grapes of Wrath? Nothing much. They make some pit stops, realize other people are also dirt poor and starving. The subject matter is the Great Depression, but the scenes unfold in such a similar pattern that the audience is drained at the end- and, at least in my theater- demanded their money back. You heard me right. I SAW this in theaters in 1940. I was 22 years old, fresh out of college and intrigued by the idea that a book I forced to read at Brown, would suddenly be available on the big screen. It cost $0.40 - which in Chicago was a lot.
It's too bad this prestigious production ends up just being boorish and lame. So they were broke, who wasn't? Where was the drama? Where was the hot couple who fall in love and then get pregnant? Nothing. Just hillbillies and lost dreams.
FINAL GRADE: D