This is undeniably a well-made movie in many respects, particularly by 1946 post-WWII standards -- but today it is strictly a period piece, replete with large doses of heavy-handed moralism. Nearly all of the plot lines are utterly predictable, and many of the scenes are embarrassingly saccharine and/or hackneyed. On top of everything else, it's an excruciatingly long, boring slog at nearly 3 hours.
Possibly over the years some people have been reluctant to criticize the movie for fear of being accused of being insensitive to veterans. I can't think of many other reasons for the absurdly high rating and its presence in the IMDb top 250 movies.
Of course it's a period piece! What on earth is wrong with that?
This movie isn't a mystery/thriller. Doesn't matter if some of the storylines are predictable. For example: Yes, it's obvious from the start that Fred and Marie will eventually go their separate ways. So? I find it interesting to watch how they go from tolerating each other to hating each other.
Heavy-handed moralism? That's far more common in modern movies, in which the morals are shoved down our throats, complete with the "inspirational" music. This film wasn't all that heavy-handed with the moralism. Maybe a bit, but it sure didn't bother me.
The reason I'm reluctant to criticize this movie is because I really like this film. It's not a perfect film. There are a few things which I would have changed, but oh well. 10/10 from me, for sure.
. . . Should have been two instead of three hours? You remind me a little of an exchange in Amadeus: The Emperor says about Mozart's new opera, "just cut a few notes and it will be perfect". Mozart replies, "Which few notes did you have in mind, Majesty?"
Where is the heavy-handed moralism? Do you think that vets do not have a very hard time making the transition back to civilian life? Even those who never served in combat experience some culture shock when they return to "normal" life. The military is a very different way of life, and there are always adjustments to make after it. If combat was part of the experience, it's even more difficult.
Is the film exhibiting "heavy-handed moralism" when they portray alcoholism as a serious problem that needs to be addressed? Do you think alcohol doesn't cause problems for the alcoholic and everyone around him? Or that the problem will go away if you ignore it? I worked in a drug and alcohol counseling center, so I have some news for you: An alcoholic's addiction to alcohol does cause problems for the alcoholic and everyone around him, and the problem most definitely does not go away if it is ignored. Welcome to the real world.
Is the heavy handed moralism when the parents tell their daughter that getting involved with a married man is usually a bad idea, because the man who thinks he's unhappy in his marriage today may not be unhappy tomorrow, never mind forever? Or that the couple may choose not to split up, no matter how miserable they are together? That's not heavy-handed moralism. It's reality. They're looking out for her, and doing it by giving her the cold, hard truth she needs to hear to make a sound decision about the direction she wants her life to take. And how heavy-handed is it, when the miraculous happens, and he leaves his wife, so that the cute girl can be happy? That was NOT the typical way stories ended in 1946.
I think you need to live a few more years and get some more experience of the real world to understand this film properly. You're simply not there yet.
I just watch this film for the first time. I felt like the first half was intriguing but then the 2nd half of the film they neglected Homer, who I felt was the most interesting character and instead the film focused on the romance between Peggy and Fred. The 2nd half was almost Soap Opera-esque. Yawn. Also, I think you guys need to look up the definition of a period piece because this film is certainly not a period piece.
The film is certainly overrated. It is also a slog. I can see why it might had been acclaimed in 1946 looking at the lives of ex servicemen after the war but it really comes across as a soap opera.
Once again, we see how utterly subjective an audience's response is to a film. I, for example, think this film is one of the best American films ever made.
If I were to guess, I'd guess you are much younger than I. Generally, younger audiences (say, 30 or under) are drawn to fast-paced, quick-cut, loud pictures focused on events rather than on character -- on shocking revelation rather than quiet contemplation. Fast-paced action and visual stimulation trumps reflection.
That's okay, even for me -- from time to time. Frankly, I can appreciate both points of view. However, almost non-existent today are films that present the people and issues involved with a more measured hand, allowing time for thought during the picture's unfolding. Too bad -- especially for those younger souls for whom the experience is, or should be, the most important.
"...but today it is strictly a period piece..." Of course it's a period piece. It was made in 1946.
Let me try my hand at clarifying what a "period piece" is and ISN'T.
A period piece is a work (whether as a book, a painting, a film, etc.) with the subject or story set in the past, usually a "past" of a generation or longer ago, prior to when the work was put together.
Westerns are period pieces.
TITANIC is a period piece.
Biopics of Napoleon, Washington, Lincoln, et al, are period pieces.
Modern films about wars set in previous centuries (e.g. BRAVEHEART; GLORY; WAR AND PEACE) are period pieces.
Film adaptations of classic novels (Huckleberry Finn; Madame Bovary; Moby Dick; and the list is endless) are period pieces because the stories all take place in a bygone era from the vantage point in which their film adaptations were produced.
A period piece ISN'T a movie that depicts what was current and contemporary during the time when the movie was actually made, hence, TBYOOR isn't a "period piece," even though it was filmed 70 years ago.
Now, when and if a new flick comes out which features a setting that takes place in 1945-46 -- then, yeah, such a movie can be considered a period piece.
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Let me try my hand at clarifying what a "period piece" is and ISN'T.
"The Best Years of Our Lives" is so not a period piece. It is non-denominational religion. It is sublime, unparalleled in the history of cinema, a film the likes of which will never appear again.
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You wrote this a long time ago. About 30 years ago, I read a book by Robert Warshow named "The Immediate Experience," which was a collection of his essays and reviews for Commentary magazine. It was probably the ONLY time, I have ever read a negative review of the film. The essay, which was "The Anatomy of a Falsehood," was very thoughtfully and beautifully written. (I tried to find it on the internet, but couldn't.)
That being said, I actually love the movie. I can watch it over and over again. But I do realize the truth of some of the things he said. For one thing, in the film all the women are expected to be more mature than their male partners. Fred's wife is portrayed as a mean tramp simply because she is less mature than he is. I also notice in the film, there is a close-up of each major female character smiling in absolute ecstasy as she hugs her man. Having the man constituted the fulfillment of all her hopes and dreams. It's really a male fantasy if ever there was one.
___________________________________ Never say never...
This film is about love in all its forms, charity and endurance and compassion. Virtues are not fantasy, or, if they are, they shouldn't be.
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This film is about love in all its forms, charity and endurance and compassion.
Absolutely, and I love the movie for it.
But in the film, men are generally the recipients of such love and compassion. The woman are generally the givers -- and they are very happy to be them. That's the reason for the close-ups of the women hugging their men with such ecstasy. (Again I use the word "generally" because I do see Al and Fred overjoyed to see their wives to whom they bring token gifts.)
The men are largely in "healing mode" following the trauma of the war and the women are in the role of nurses. Note that there is a scene with each of the couples in which the woman cares for her man, lovingly putting him to bed. Nothing sexual there (of course the Hays Office wouldn't allow that).
Women are loved for being stoic, caring, and patient. Men are loved for being providers,stable, and faithful.
___________________________________ Never say never...
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The men are largely in "healing mode" following the trauma of the war and the women are in the role of nurses. Note that there is a scene with each of the couples in which the woman cares for her man, lovingly putting him to bed. Nothing sexual there (of course the Hays Office wouldn't allow that).
Before addressing your earlier point--yes, this film was political in the extreme, and less quarrel do I personally have here, with this film's being political, than with any agenda-driven movie I've ever seen. You know the Sam Goldwyn opinion: "I don't care if it doesn't make a nickel. I just want every man, woman, and child in America to see it."
I am in the middle of a superb British documentary series on World War I; I follow the centenary commemorations closely and believe every human being on the planet owes it to the soldiers of World War I to pay some sort of homage to their sacrifices. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAnYRvHH6jA&list=PLBOXjuzxIKcqviAKtx7UNPFzJ-oU_kQZU)
The Best Years of Our Lives was and remains a gift from God to a century stunned by evil. Most people alive at that time had seen not one, but two, World Wars. God works in mysterious ways, and this film was one of them, because PTSD is not the only affliction it addresses. It speaks about fears of disability (Homer); of poverty (Fred); and of growing old (Al). It's equally--exactly equally--a religious and entertainment work, not the only such hybrid, but in my opinion, heads and shoulders, the best.
But in the film, men are generally the recipients of such love and compassion. The woman are generally the givers -- and they are very happy to be them.
The first time I saw the film, I became so enraged with Al's mistreatment of Milly the night of his return, I almost stopped watching. The "night on the town" becomes an ordeal for Milly and an embarrassment to Peggy. At the end, only the most obtuse viewer wouldn't feel as though Al not only didn't mind that they suffered instead of rejoiced the night of his homecoming, but that he actively sought for them to suffer. And yet... This film is so damn true and real; and we are all sinners. Milly and Peggy ride out the night, and Al doesn't repeat it. And maybe Al doesn't repeat it specifically because of Milly's self-sacrificial reception of him on that awful, awful night of his return.
Milly's compassion is the greatest of any of the film's character's, greater than Wilma's, because Wilma is still young and has stars in her eyes about marriage, period. Milly on the other hand has spent a lifetime with a man she must have few illusions about. Myrna Loy deserved an Oscar as much as March and Russell deserved theirs.
Marie, the one female who rejects Fred, rejects compassion. Materialist Marie is demonized, but I don't think most viewers feel she doesn't deserve happiness as much as the other women. She's demonized in the same way Al's bank powers-that-be are for rejecting Al, when he shows compassion to a G.I., and the way society itself is demonized for its contempt of Fred--the most Everyman character of the film. The Best Years of Our Lives, whether its producers ever realized it or not, was an argument for utopian values of respect for others, social equality, and moral equity (Marie's problem). Two World Wars turned the twentieth century into Hell for lack of these values.
Any female viewer who doesn't admit that women are second-class citizens in The Best Years of Our Lives is either coy or self-deluded. I believe the film's point was that love covers a multitude of sins; self-sacrificial love makes people into fools; and self-sacrificial fools may sometimes not be--in fact, are hardly ever--rewarded. Within the context of this movie's narrative, the fools (in the sense of the word St. Paul used it) must be women.
The world in 1946 had precious few other ways God could show love.
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Cwente, long time no see; and Merry Christmas. I was going to post and ask yooz guys if anyone saw "Hacksaw Ridge," which I could not, despite the Christian element, because of Mr. Gibson's predilection for violence. I don't know when "Dunkirk" is going to be released, but, man, would it be great to have a new war movie done in the manner of Sergeant York or even something as recent as Patton, where you could immerse yourself in history and victory without being in danger of taking a stroke because of the realism.
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I am in the middle of a superb British documentary series on World War I
Thanks very much for posting the link. It is a fascinating story and people really need to learn about the past to avoid the recurrence of similar events in the future.
And maybe Al doesn't repeat it specifically because of Milly's self-sacrificial reception of him on that awful, awful night of his return.
If this story were to be told today, Al's alcohol abuse would most definitely not be treated in a humorous way. Milly would be considered an ultimate enabler. And, yet, this paradigm is totally realistic to this day.
Milly's compassion is the greatest of any of the film's character's,
Absolutely right. I always cry twice during the film. At the end (natch!) And always, at that wonderful point when she says:
" 'We never had any trouble.' How many times have I told you I hated you and believed it in my heart? How many times have you said you were sick and tired of me; that we were all washed up? How many times have we had to fall in love all over again?"
It's incredibly well said. Saying one loves another early in a relationship is not as meaningful as saying the same thing 25 year into that relationship (assuming the relationship still exists).
___________________________________ Never say never...
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If this story were to be told today, Al's alcohol abuse would most definitely not be treated in a humorous way. Milly would be considered an ultimate enabler. And, yet, this paradigm is totally realistic to this day.
Yes, you're right about all of this. But The Best Years of Our Lives is fundamentally--and very ironically, considering the producers who championed it--a film that explains and espouses a Christian worldview. By "Christian," I emphatically do not mean "Conservative" or "Republican" or any other American political term often used interchangeably with it. I mean Christian in the sense of Pity.
I have never seen, nor have wished to see, any Tolkien film. I even fudged in grad school when I was assigned Tolkien books, because he don't like us lady-folk. I know however that his mythology includes some goddess or divinity, a goddess of wisdom, who weeps for all eternity. And The Best Years of Our Lives encourages us to do that for one another, to bear one another's burdens. The only male character in the film who is likable beginning to end is Fred, and that's probably because he's so busy trying to keep body and soul together. Even Homer turned me off when I first saw the film.
I'm certain, because of your distinctive avatar, that you and I post on another board where my sympathies for women are quite clear. But until the world stops "marrying and giving in marriage," which will be, like, never, the two sexes have no choice but to be forbearing and compassionate toward one another, whether in a marriage or at a celibate's distance.
I know coming back from the war was traumatic but wasn't Teresa Wright a teenager and this guy is hitting on her? I'd want to kill the guy if she was my daughter.
I know coming back from the war was traumatic but wasn't Teresa Wright a teenager and this guy is hitting on her? I'd want to kill the guy if she was my daughter.
Teresa Wright was 28 years old but looking like, and playing, a younger woman; but I'd say that Wilma (Wright) was right around 20 years old (no longer in high school.) Also noteworthy is that Virgina Mayo, who was a full TWO YEARS YOUNGER THAN Miss Wright, played Fred's estranged wife.
As for Dana Andrews, at 37 in this film, he also was playing a younger person than himself (Fred's going back to work at the soda fountain isn't the kind of work that thirty-somethings generally do.)
Note that Al was more concerned about what kind of man Fred was, than about Fred's age -- meaning that Fred WASN'T terribly older than Wilma.
And I should like to suggest that you cut your grandparents, great-grandparents and THEIR forebears some slack, because people lived shorter lives in previous generations than they do today and thus, of necessity, married younger than what we now deem to be "the norm."
In other words, many situatios that, today, make people clutch their pearls in horrified and apoplectic conniptions, should be viewed in the context of their times and not in the lenses of 21st Century lookers on who know little or nothing about what the world of their grandparents and great-grandparents was like.
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I know it is a powerfull acclaimed film. Especially moving for the amputee returning from WW2. There has been plenty sex since the beginning of time, people have always liked to orgasm, pork each other, screw, hide the salami, bang like it's the end of the world. Nowadays, probably less shotgun marriages since birth control is common. I know years ago it was acceptable and common for getting married just in the teen years. All I saw was a older man immediately hitting on a girl that the studio send off to make up department put in pony tails like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz gazing with like a crush you would expect from a schoolgirl who just turned 15 the last full moon. The age of anyone is mute. Drama is about telling story and suspending time believing the portrayal of emotion. Now If you don't mind me and my great grandparents have some porn to catch up on tosser.😤
I remember reading (and rereading) Robert Warshow's The Immediate Experience, Jennie, many years ago, and Anatomy Of Falsehood was one tough take on TBYOOL. Warshow's lack of empathy was a weak point in his writing IMO, but then serious criticism of any art form sort of has to be,--I hate the word elitist--so I'll use Olympian in its place. It can't be all about gushing and favorites moments. Sometimes a critic has to be tough. There are films that I once loved that have fell out of favor with me, such as To Kill A Mockingbird. This is a movie I saw at least three times in the theater! Now it rubs me the wrong way, and I feel about it much as the OP does about TBYOOL.
To get to the movie here: I cut the film more slack due to its timing. It spoke to movie audiences of 1946-47, and it was somewhat of a valentine for returning war vets. Their problems adjusting to the postwar world were, needless to say, huge, given the sheer number of men who served, even allowing that most never saw combat. The movie almost had to be made the way it was or else it couldn't have addressed the vast majority of Americans. In many respects it's like the speech that has to be made at the right time by a politician, say, for the 4th Of July. He can't get too high falutin' for the intellectuals or else he'll alienate the Common Man. Yet if the speech is all in words of one or two syllables it will sound dumb. So the politician compromises, gives a little bit of this to one group, a bit of that to the other. TBYOOL feels that way to me. There's a something for everyone in it.
Remember the song written after the Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy assassinations, Abraham, Martin And John? A great song? Probably not. But it was a necessary song, and it came out at the right time. I still find it haunting, even more so than when it came out, when I was a teenager, and cynical about life and the music business in general ("somebody was gonna cash in on this sooner or later", etc.). If anything I find that it plays better today, as it captures a moment in time, a period in American history that felt frickin' apocalyptic, and its (strangely) soothing melancholy brings it all back. It was, to be glib but I think accurate all the same, a healing song. TBYOOL was a healing movie. Its relevance has faded, but it's apparently a fairly accurate snapshot of the America of the time it was made, and of how many people felt during that period.
TBYOOL was a healing movie. Its relevance has faded, but it's apparently a fairly accurate snapshot of the America of the time it was made, and of how many people felt during that period.
Ah, highly polite cynicism, or highly cynical politeness. Does it matter which?
The fact is that the "relevance" of The Best Years of Our Lives will never fade. Ever. It does not have Julie Andrews' heavenly voice or Rodgers' and Hammerstein's brilliant cheer and optimism, but it is much a mainstay for a considerable portion of American film fans as The Sound of Music is for the country at large.
That's just my opinion, Hilaryjp, and how I see the film. I didn't mean to ruffle your feathers . Who knows what will last and what won't? I'm just one person.
The fact is that the "relevance" of The Best Years of Our Lives will never fade. Ever. It does not have Julie Andrews' heavenly voice or Rodgers' and Hammerstein's brilliant cheer and optimism, but it is much a mainstay for a considerable portion of American film fans as The Sound of Music is for the country at large.
I couldn't agree with you more about the continued relevance (a word I try to avoid!) of TYBOOL. To me it's a mark of the film's greatness that a movie made and set in a very brief, real and specific point in American history, one never to be repeated (in its specifics if nothing else), can be so timeless in its meaning and in its revelations of human emotions. Beneath the surface trappings of 1946 lies a film that's simply astonishing in its timelessness and relevance to people of any generation.
But I'm at a loss to understand the purpose of drawing any kind of comparison with The Sound of Music, which makes "apples and oranges" seem like an exercise in identifying twins. It may be that The Best Years of Our Lives is a mainstay for only a given (even if "considerable") portion of American film fans, but how could you possibly assert that TSOM is such a mainstay for the country at large? It most certainly is not. Millions dislike that film or at best don't care for or about it -- in fact, it's notorious for how it puts off so many people. By absolutely no means is it a "mainstay" for everyone in this country. There are hundreds of films that come closer to that impossible standard than does Sound of Music.
Obviously it's one of your favorites, and just as the OP is entitled to his negative opinion of Best Years so are you entitled to your rapturous opinion of Sound of Music, but don't conflate your own view of the film with the entire country's. At best it's a mainstay for only some people -- a statement which in any case is true of every film ever made.
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By absolutely no means is it a "mainstay" for everyone in this country. here are hundreds of films that come closer to that impossible standard than does Sound of Music.
Generally a good standard of measuring a film's popularity is the frequency with which it is shown at the holiday season. To say that The Sound of Music is not beloved by Americans would be to say that network sponsors choose to waste their money every holiday season on cultural mediocrity. I'm not conflating my view with the country's--not unless someone who believes It's a Wonderful Life or Mary Poppins are cultural favorites is guilty of similar projection.
Sorry, hilary, but it's preposterous to say that The Sound of Music is "beloved by Americans" -- a sweeping statement that implies that everyone in the country loves it. This is not so. Is it popular? Of course. Is it popular with "the country" at large -- all Americans? Ridiculous.
Using the frequency of a movie's being shown on TV as a measure of the degree of its popularity is absurd. I don't know the average viewership of The Sound of Music each year but let's say it's 30 million people. Yes, that's a lot, especially for a TV broadcast. But that still means 290,000,000 don't watch it. I doubt very much that most of those people look upon it as a mainstay of anything.
The Sound of Music is not "beloved by Americans". Like any other movie, it's beloved by some Americans. A lot of people don't like it. A lot don't care one way or another. A lot have never seen it. The same holds true for It's a Wonderful Life, Mary Poppins and any other movie. They are popular with a lot of people. Equally, they are not liked, or at least not held as "mainstays", by many, even most, people. There are plenty of people right here on IMDb who state their dislike of these films, and this is just a tiny portion of the population.
Yes, you are projecting your biases, or conflating your opinion, onto the country as a whole. No film, or anything else, enjoys the universal popularity you claim these films do. Famous does not mean popular. I respect your opinion of these films but don't claim your views reflect some mythical general consensus.
And please don't misquote me or invent things or ascribe opinions to me that I did not say. I did not say or imply that The Sound of Music was "a cultural mediocrity". That is a false assertion. Simply because I don't regard the film with the uncritical adoration you show it does not mean I dismiss its qualities.
I remember reading (and rereading) Robert Warshow's The Immediate Experience, Jennie, many years ago
Congrats, you are the only person--- other than myself--who seems to remember that great book. I am just fascinated by criticism published in the past about items of popular culture that later became canon. Back at the time of the film's initial release, the reaction was uniformly favorable (to say the least). This is the New York Times' positively orgasmic review of the film: http://www.nytimes.com/movie/review?res=9506E1DC1E38E53ABC4A51DFB767838D659EDE Bosley Crowther was not exactly a pushover when it came to criticism. But the point of art is to elicit a feeling from the viewer-- and TBYOOL accomplishes that admirably.
Warshow's piece advanced his own agenda about certain simplifications the film (and society) makes about men in general. Again, I don't have the book anymore, but the fact I remember it 30 years after reading it, says something about its impact.
And I do remember singing Abraham, Martin And John? in summer camp. Great song that functions as a secular psalm.
___________________________________ Never say never...
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Yes, I like reading critics from an earlier time. Warshow's one of the best. Another, equally good in his way is Otis Ferguson. This is a book worth looking for, ordering through Inter-library Loan if you can't find a copy. I don't own one myself. Ferguson covered 1934-42 extensively, and his writing is at Warshow's level and, at times, then some. There's more of the poet in his reviews.
It surprised me that even the great, highly esteemed James Agee, praised TBYOOL to damn near the skies. He had his reservations about this and that, as always, and his objections are not always mine. I more often than not agree with him, but not this time. Around the same time he tore apart the British The Notorious Gentleman (aka The Rake's Progess), which I love.
You're right about the emotional qualities of TBYOOL resonating strongly. I didn't see it till I was well into my twenties, and I was let down by its mannered quality; as Gregg Toland's camera lingered just a little too long over each shot, each character's face, and the music hammered home every point. It aimed to tug at the viewer's heartstring's, and in this it succeeded with most viewers.
Hi tel -- I was on this board and saw this thread and your comments. I have to confess some surprise that you don't much care for this film. I read your posts and of course understand and respect your view but I couldn't disagree more with you. Even some of your observations, such as the one about Toland's cinematography, almost sound as though we've seen different pictures.
Of course we all have our own opinions and that's all they are, but to me this film is the greatest American movie ever made -- not because it's flawless or perfect (no such thing exists) but because of its timelessness, quite astonishing given the fact that it's set in one very specific year and place and was intended to speak to the people of its particular shared moment in history. Yet as only the great films can, it surmounts its era and speaks across the generations to the same underlying truths of the human condition. That's a tribute to its writing, direction and acting. All helped by near-perfect cinematography. (!)
Though I can see your point about To Kill a Mockingbird. I don't quite share your evident disdain for the film but in some ways it's too constructed, too artificial to hold up quite as well as it once seemed. I still think it has much to say, and is one of the most realistic excursions into childhood of any film, but it does seem to be a bit too self-conscious and manipulative about it. It lacks the naturalness of Best Years.
As to Gregg Toland's superb cinematography, there is a technical mistake that I caught after many viewings. Watch the scene when Peggy enters her bedroom and tiptoes around the bed where Fred is sleeping off his hangover and nightmares. It's supposed to take place early in the morning, but evidently, the set was also lit from below as she casts a shadow at the wrong angle. Instead of the sunlight from the window causing her shadow to fall on the bed below her where it should be, the shadow is above her head on the underside of the bed canopy which is about eight feet above the floor.
I used to read "American Cinematographer" magazine, and almost every great director of photography cops to their mistakes. Generally, it's stuff only an expert can spot - a slightly out of focus shot, a hot spot within the frame, an under or overexposed scene. It probably took me 20 viewings to notice this. But it's also worth noting that most modern cameramen still consider Gregg Toland the greatest cinematographer of all.
I know the mistake you mean, wrf, but that does not negate Toland's greatness. As you said, every DP makes mistakes.
On one of those interview spots on TCM (you must have seen it) several cinematographers were talking about James Wong Howe. One of them said he had asked Howe about the source lighting he used in a particular nighttime shot in Hud -- light was coming from someplace where no light would be (or be visible from). Apparently Howe said that in such situations he didn't worry about logic or reality -- he lit the scene as he needed to, and didn't worry the details. Now that's honest! And it may account for Toland's lighting in the scene you brought up and others in his career.
The great tragedy of Gregg Toland of course was that he died so young (44) in 1948, depriving American cinema of one of its greatest talents. I've sometimes wondered how he would have dealt with CinemaScope and other widescreen processes -- what innovative uses of the camera he might have come up with. All other things being equal, given a normal life span he should have continued in films well into the 1970s at least.
Yes, I remember that Howe piece. Very interesting. I recommend the documentary film, VISIONS OF LIGHT, which is a talking head piece featuring almost every major director of photography from the past fifty years.
I also remember your post on THE MARK OF ZORRO board, where fans were touting the colorized version of the film. You had an uphill battle convincing them that black and white should be the only version. I knew your argument would fall on deaf ears. I've learned that black and white movies are something you have appreciate from early in life from the movies you adore. I've seen my younger family members flipping through cable stations and bypassing black and white images as if they were were white noise. I had to keep shouting, "Hold it. Let's see what that is." Another time, showing a friend a classic film and getting the response, "They should re-make this today." I know we're on the same page on this, but sheep are sheep and we can't make them tigers by beating them over the head with knowledge.
Oh, one more quick anecdote. I remember trying to shoot a 5 minute film project in college. A friend said, "Why don't you make it easy on yourself and just shoot it in black and white?" Oy!
I guess these differences of opinion are what makes a horse race, Hob. Whenever I get into one of these discussions with someone I have no issues with it's both a delicate matter and a complex one, as people's favorite movies are often very close to their hearts. Overall, I see it as a good thing if things don't get too emotionally heated.
There are many of my movie reviews on the IMDB that I regret having written, and some that have got me my share of hate mail, more properly hate PM's. Anyway, to cut to the chase here: The Best Years Of Our Lives is simply a movie that failed to touch me deeply. Even the scene (and an excellent one it is) between the apparent right winger played by Ray Teal and his exchange with Harold Russel's handless vet, feels somehow made to order. It's as if there had to be a scene like this in the movie.
I'm not sure what it is that causes the "positive" button to beep in some people, fail to do so in others, where films are concerned, especially classic films. Of widely popular classics, I love The Wizard Of Oz, Rebecca, Double Indemnity and It's A Wonderful Life. So it's not like I can't be a sucker for widely beloved films, or that I'm an agin' the system contrarian who likes to yank chains.
TBYOOL may be a time capsule, but that's hardly a criticism. Most movies are, to one degree or another. The same could be said of many 50s faves like Marty and 12 Angry Men, both of which I like very much. I was amazed, the last time I watched Marty, two or three years ago, how much I was moved by it, how involved I got in the story. It was like while I'd seen it before, I'd never fully experienced it.
"I'm not sure what it is that causes the 'positive' button to beep in some people, fail to do so in others ..."
Neither am I. I suppose it has to do with life, lifestyle, upbringing, and even one's state of mind on entering the theatre. In the case of TBYOOL, I'm inclined to see the film as hob does. But, I respect your views and maybe, just maybe, they'll modify somewhat on subsequent viewings.
Marlon Brando wrote about how we view films in his very under-appreciated autobiography, "Songs My Mother Taught Me." Why one person's favorite movie is another person's claptrap. Brando said one of his favorite films of all time was the 1980s thriller, RUNAWAY TRAIN, a modest hit that got decent, not great, reviews. Brando wrote that the first time he saw it, it brought him to tears. It was not the movie itself, but what he brought to it - a need to flee authority, to escape into the wilderness and hide.
His overall contention is that all films are inert objects. It's we, the audience, that projects onto them the meanings that satisfy our yearnings and needs. Brando specifically used one of his own scenes to illustrate: the taxi ride in ON THE WATERFRONT. It's usually referred to as some of his best acting. Brando contends there is almost no acting involved. Critics and audiences are responding to sentiments in the writing far more than anything he did. "I could'a been a contender," is a feeling everyone has at one time or another in their lives. Brando gives it a conviction that makes the lines come alive, but any actor worth his salt could have given an equally sincere reading that would have pulled deep emotions out of the viewer. He gives another practical example. If, for example he has a scene where he discovers a dead body, when the camera shows his reaction, he claims a blank stare will do the trick every time - he doesn't need to scream or look shocked - the audience will instinctively do half the work understanding the sadness or horror of the situation.
The fact that many of the male fans of BEST YEARS identify with Fred Derry is a case in point. Most of us at some point shared Fred's disappointments at the unfairness of life, most of us have been loved and un-loved by significant others, some of us have held dead-end jobs. While most of us admire and like the characters of Al and Homer, how many of us are bankers with a drinking problem, how many of us are dis-abled from a foreign war? Fred Derry's is the "everyman's" story that most of us can connect with.
Brando makes a good point. The scene from On The Waterfront doesn't really have any acting it's great writing. If you want to see Brando doing great acting check out him doing Antony's funeral oration in Julius Caesar or Brando's speech over his dead wife's body in Last Tango In Paris
Well, I understand your thoughts, tel, and at least you give some thought to what you say. It's not as if you dismiss Best Years out of hand or claim it's without value, boring, long, badly done and the like, most of which are to me opinions that cannot be defended very well.
For me the more popular we're told a film is (or is supposed to be) the more I shy away from it. This is not to say I diss or dismiss it, or criticize it as a bad film, but I dislike claims to a film's being a cultural icon, beloved by "all", and therefore somehow above criticism. No film is. I love all the films you mentioned but not all equally and none uncritically. Right now I'm having a bit of a row with hilary because she believes that The Sound of Music (as well as It's a Wonderful Life and Mary Poppins) are "mainstays" of the American people and essentially universally popular. (This is a slight paraphrase of her position but not I think an unfair one.) In part she uses the fact that these films are shown on TV each year as a sign that they are not merely popular with some people, but that they're popular with virtually all people, which is a self-evident absurdity.
I don't quite think TYBOOL is simply a time capsule, though as you say in some way every film is, which is unavoidable. But as I said before, the fact that a film so pointedly of, not just an era, but basically only a single year or so, can still speak to so many people over 70 years later says something about its meaning and appeal that transcends the years and changing times.
Your points re TBYOOL are well-taken, but you're being disingenuous with hilary aren't you? The Sound of Music, is a "mainstay" of the American public, and its great popularity on TV and in American theatres, is evidence of that. I know hilary does not mean it's popular with everyone in America. Using your line of reasoning, no one could claim that McDonalds or ice cream and apple pie are mainstays of the American people -- when they are.
I'm certainly not being "disingenuous" with hilary, cfwente -- honestly, that criticism doesn't quite make sense. My point was that hilary claimed in essence that TSOM occupies some level of universal appeal or acclaim, unlike Best Years, on the grounds that it's this mythical mainstay of American life. I simply don't agree with that statement (though neither would I argue that Best Years is any sort of "mainstay" either). Now, one can argue that point, but her reliance on TV showings as proof of her "mainstay" claim is to me an invalid and deeply flawed methodology.
Your analogy to McDonalds, ice cream and apple pie is completely misplaced. I agree, those things are mainstays of, or at least cultural phenomena associated with, American life. But there is no way that The Sound of Music rises to that level. In fact, I don't know that any film can or even could be deemed a "mainstay". McDonalds, apple pie, ice cream, baseball, hot dogs and things of that kind are almost generic items broadly identified with "the American way of life". You might also include "movies", generally, in that group. But who identifies with America because of The Sound of Music -- a movie that is not even about America? Who associates The Sound of Music with the United States, or regards it as a peculiarly American cultural touchstone? When Americans go to Europe or Asia do locals come up to them and say, "Ah, Americans -- Sound of Music is a very good movie!"?
Yes, it's a popular picture. But half the country isn't walking around singing "Climb Every Mountain" every day...but more than half is eating McDonalds, hot dogs, apple pie or ice cream every day.
The dictionary definition of "mainstay" is, "One who or that which acts as a chief support or part." Anyone who claims with a straight face that The Sound of Music, The Best Years of Our Lives or any other movie looms that large in, is that integral to, and is a critical pillar of, American life, needs a serious reality check.
A lot to digest there. Let's just leave it at this -- I knew exactly what she meant. I can add only that in the legit. theatre and you're running out of money, the cry always comes up -- "Let's produce TSOM so, at least, we can fill the house!"
There are many of my movie reviews on the IMDB that I regret having written, and some that have got me my share of hate mail, more properly hate PM's.
Seriously? Some people would stoop to that level? That is pathetic. I'm sorry that you've had to put up with such nonsense. Did you reply to any of those folks?
By the way, if you want to, you can always remove the reviews which you regret having written.
I liked the immediate tension between Al & Fred. It's there as soon as they meet in the plane. & it never calms, it only tightens as Fred falls in love with Al's daughter. It crests in the bar scene, but, picks up again at the wedding. Al still holds resentment and most likely always will.
Al possesses a mean streak, a childishness reigns in him even after coming back from war. His wife is on-guard of it. She's been there.