Archive for August, 2010

Agora

Rachel Weisz is an incredible presence, and completely believable as the philosopher and mathematician Hypatia, the lone intellectual woman and non-believer in 4th century Alexandria. An amazing film about religion, and the conflict between religions that is still so prominent. It does somewhat vilify Christians, but nor does it sanctify the pagans and the Jews; the thing that it sheds in the best light is intellect and knowledge. It balances– or rather director Alejandro Amenabar balances– the epic scope with individual and extremely personal stories, experiences and interactions. The camera contrasts close shots of characters with the overhead long shots of the mob with amazing beauty, and shows great reverence for  the grandeur of the ancient city of Alexandria and its amazing buildings– especially the library. The visual style also encapsulates the vision of Hypatia—the idea of the circle as the perfect shape is reflected in many shots, and her search for the truth about the planets and sun is explored with shots of the earth in space.

The love story (a love diamond– three men are in love with Hypatia) comes to represent and reflect the conflict for people between religious faiths– one of them a growing power– and an even larger conflict between faith and knowledge.

Inception

Christopher Nolan is a force to be reckoned with; he’s a new king of Hollywood. Sometimes studios reward talent—but talent that sells. He wrote (with his brother) and directed Inception, and it’s a fantastic concept. A heist plot—one you’ve seen before, same kinds of characters, each with a different talent, and the same set-up—but set the heist in dream worlds and pose questions of the subconscious, and you’ve got a blockbuster that forces people to think and ponder over what they’re watching. Nolan trusts the audience’s intellect. He’s quickly becoming famous and very well thought of as the director of smart blockbusters. This film is very well done; it’s puzzling, but too much, not too confusing, unless you hatch onto the details—to figure out details requires multiple viewings, and one needs those to really discuss it. It’s a great idea, solid execution, but is it really a great film? Or does it seem more complex than it actually is?

Another thing—I love Leo, but now he’s starting to be the same in every film. He has a wonderful presence and intensity in this, but it’s almost the same exact character and acting job as Shutter Island. He’s a grieving, psychologically unbalanced and very sad man who’s trying to do his very difficult job while still guiltily holding onto his dead wife. I hope this is just a passing thing…and the similarities of characters stop after this.

I Am Love (Io Sono L’amore)

There’s just something about European films that American films will never have. They give such a straightforward and insightful look at emotions, love and sex. I suppose that’s why Tilda Swinton learned Italian and Russian to make this film, playing the Russian wife of a wealthy Italian–in order to portray raw emotion and show the power of love on film. I find that dedication to craft–learning two languages for one role– just amazing. She gives an extraordinary performance.

I also find the vision of the film amazing. The Europeans are masterful at examining human relationships; their films always focus on relationships and love as being the most important things in life. Hollywood favors love and romance as well, but not in the same way; it lacks the emotional vitality and honesty that European films have. The European in this case is director Luca Guadagnino, who has created a fantastic look at how love changes lives. Love destroys an entire family in this film and yet it also gives one woman life— it is triumphant. She chooses life.

This film is lushly shot, full of color and beauty, with attention to details like food, costumes, hairstyles, and surrounding locations, whether a city like Milan covered in silent snow, or a field in the country full of flowers being pollinated by bees as the lovers consummate their love in the midst of them. It also draws from Hitchcock and Visconti, among other cinematic masters, and feels old, as if it’s from another time, but yet is also very modern. It is timeless.

And the ending. Oh, the ending is thrilling– tragic and heartbreaking, but exhilarating. So full of emotion, and yet never cheap or over the top. The last major scene has fantastic camerawork, editing, and use of the amazing score to reveal an incredible climax to this astounding filmic experience.

Toy Story 3

Since the Toy Story films are so far apart (it being about more than 10 years since the second one), I can say that I’ve grown up with them. My generation saw Toy Story when we were still kids, so the third and final installment resonates deeply with us. The films were always mature for animated films—like most of Pixar— so they can be enjoyed by both adults and kids. But the fact that people in their mid-twenties have actually enjoyed them as both is fantastic. I suppose it may be similar to how people felt seeing the newer installment of Star Wars in theaters, after growing up with the original trilogy. However, there were mixed feelings about the more recent Star Wars, especially from those who did see the original as teens in the ’70s. Toy Story 3, however, has become a triumphant final film for a trilogy, critically praised and popular. It has the same heart as the first two, the same great and cherished characters, and it ends the series with some deeply resonant and often very dark ideas.

It begins as Andy is headed off to college, and the toys have given up being played with ever again. They are, however, determined to stick together. But when Andy chooses to take Woody to college, and the rest accidentally get put out with the trash, sticking together proves difficult. Woody manages to follow the rest and they make it to day care instead of the garbage. The idea of being played with by kids again seems an ecstatic one for the toys, but fades as the world of the day care is revealed as dark and corrupt, run by an old teddy bear (voiced by Ned Beatty) who’s had no heart since he was lost and then replaced by his owner. The toys must again make a great escape to get back to Andy, since, as Woody insists, they should always be there for him.

The underlying and timeless theme of the film is growing up and how things inevitably change. Making a film through the eyes of toys is ingenious (although not completely new—this film has touches of The Brave Little Toaster, especially in a landfill scene toward the end) because everyone thought their toys were real as a kid, but Toy Story 3 also goes beyond that and examines bigger themes of how Andy deals with change, and what everyone goes through when they leave home. The toys (mainly Woody) ultimately realize that things have to change as people change, even if the toys themselves are essentially immortal. That initial idea of toys having feelings could have gotten old had the filmmakers not faced the more difficult questions of their immortality and of their owner growing out of childhood, as well as ideas of belonging and of being abandoned, which all the toys face, but which can be a major fear for children as well.

The ending is bittersweet, deeply felt and completely perfect. It’s incredibly adorable, but also heartbreaking, and it gives absolute closure, as the story comes full circle. This is, after all, a cartoon, and should have a happy ending, but since it’s extraordinary, the happy ending has a realistic underlying sadness.

Winter’s Bone

Winter’s Bone is the third feature of director and co-writer Debra Granik, and it’s great to add a fantastic female director to my list. This film is equal parts harrowingly realistic and thrilling. The story follows a 17-year-old girl, Ree, the head of a household that is barely surviving, which consists of her sick mother, and young brother and sister. When she learns that her drug-dealer father has put their house and property up for his bond and then missed his court date, she delves into the underworld of her small and stark community to find him. But this is extremely dangerous and near impossible amid people (many of whom are her own family) who refuse to talk and are threatened by a young girl who may become a witness. It brings the viewer into a harsh and often terrifying world.

The film is incredibly well done in showing a close-up glimpse at American life that many in the country have no idea exists. The Ozark mountains of Missouri is shown as cold and poverty-stricken, with few choices for a girl like Ree besides following her father’s footsteps, having a baby, or joining the army. The film does not just show a simple poverty, however, or portray the characters as pitiful; it remains a respectful and non-judgemental observer, and the viewer eventually accepts this society as being, maybe not ideal for anyone, but certainly the residence of proud and tough Americans. One quickly moves beyond the idea of this being a simple, white trash society; I especially admired them for their resourcefulness and endurance. What teenage girl in most other American societies could teach her younger siblings to shoot squirrels, and then skin and fry them? Perhaps my reverence was also just nostalgia for my own rural upbringing.

The film also shows an optimistic side, illustrating the culture that exists in the Ozarks with its use of folk music (played by what I assume were non-actors), as well as creating a glimmer of hope with someone as smart, determined, and loyal as the heroine. Ree is played by Jennifer Lawrence, who’s done some movies and is a regular on a sitcom, and I hope the Independent Spirit Award that she’s likely to garner will give her the recognition to become the next Charlize Theron, for she brings an extraordinary intensity to her role, while also remaining emotionally attainable, and never losing her warm humanity. The film also has a touch of old in it— another time is reflected, perhaps the Depression, or even the late nineteenth century, when settlers were struggling to survive. In fact, there are no modern-day technologies to speak of, besides beat up trucks and guns. No cell phones, or even land lines, no computers or TVs, are shown being used. The story struck me as a kind of harsh fairy tale (minus a handsome prince), but it may be closer to what A.O Scott mentioned in his review— a Greek play. It’s an old-world tale of fighting for family members, protecting family bonds, and surviving in a harsh world. It is a coming of age story in a way, but Ree doesn’t really change, she is the same strong presence throughout, and simply learns how to better survive within her community, but mostly learns that staying true to herself and immediate family is the most important thing.

Happy-Go-Lucky

Happy-Go-Lucky is a film that defines, and yet transcends, the feel-good movie. Written and directed by Mike Leigh, Britain’s auteur of realism and every-day comedy, the film follows Poppy (Sally Hawkins) through her simple life in London as she interacts with a variety of individuals. What makes Poppy special and worthy of carrying an entire film, is her undying optimism and cheerfulness; she is simply always smiling and laughing at what life has to offer. She leads a normal and ordinary existence: works as a pre-school teacher (very apropos), lives with her best mate, goes out to clubs with her girlfriends and little sister, and occasionally visits her other (also younger) sister in the suburbs, who is married with a baby on the way. When she begins taking driving lessons, her life becomes a bit more intense, as the instructor, Scott (a powerful Eddie Marsden) is an extremely pessimistic bigot with some serious anger problems.

Leigh excels in finding touching, funny or meaningful moments in what at first seems to be every-day mundane life, and in this film, he finds those moments through Poppy. She may, at first, get on one’s nerves as she giggles her way through a flamenco class, or perhaps seem unbelievable when she wanders through a ghetto neighborhood and befriends a homeless man. But as the film went on, it dawned on me what an incredible and yet completely accessible character Poppy is. She simply wants to help people; she lives for valuable interactions with strangers, friends, and even enemies. Hawkins brings an amazing energy and fabulous demeanor to the character. She creates a wonderful performance that deserves to be lauded and treasured, as, indeed, it has been, by numerous critics.

The excellent script (nominated for an Oscar) creates clever, silly and realistic conversations between Poppy and other characters. Her best friend and roommate, Zoe (played by wonderful newcomer Alexis Zegerman), complements Poppy’s character perfectly; she is the straight man to Poppy’s funny one, she’s amusingly dry with her wit, unemotional but not cold, and with an evident love and appreciation for Poppy. Poppy’s married sister, Helen, on the other hand, excels in criticizing and insists Poppy must be unhappy (who, her?!) since she doesn’t have a mortgage or future life plans. The one who’s unhappy, of course, and jealous of Poppy’s freedom, is Helen, and seems to be the complete opposite of Poppy, as she spreads pessimism to everyone else. There is also a small romantic subplot that Leigh creates naturally, without too much fuss. Poppy’s date with Tim, a social worker helping one of her students, has just the right amount of cleverness, sweetness, and awkwardness.

The most interesting and complex of Poppy’s interactions is with Scott. They meet four times for lessons, and with each encounter, we learn a bit more about him, and find we don’t particularly want to know anymore. Poppy, however, though at times reviled and boggled during their sessions, keeps going back. When Scott finally blows up, it’s clear that he is intensely jealous of Poppy and her simple life. His own sad existence has led him to hate society and the world in a completely irrational manner, and this, as well as what he wrongly presumes about Poppy, leads him to break out in a tirade of rage against her. It is in this powerful scene that we learn the most about Poppy’s character. Even if we’ve grown to love her by this point, it may be doubtful as to how well she handles such difficult situations; however, she is stronger than she seems and becomes serious for the first time. Although disturbed by it, she accepts Scott’s rage, listens with a look of sympathy, and waits until he’s finished. She then continues on with her life. The episode of course affects her, but she manages to be affected without letting it get to her. Nor does she indulge Scott’s rage by granting him an argument. She handles the situation with great carefulness, and the episode shows that she takes all of life’s interactions, good or bad. Marsden displays his amazing acting talent in this climactic scene especially, and proves his ability to play difficult leading roles, which he does not often get.

Leigh has created a fantastic character in a straightforward and meaningful film, which is full of wonderful scenes and conversations that are so regular one may not realize just how great they are on the first viewing. In short, he has created a real portrayal of life, which could be anyone’s, but it is made extraordinary by the central character, and she is the secret ingredient to make the audience realize what their own lives have to offer. When Zoe pleads with Poppy to stop being so nice to people, she answers that she only wants to “bring a smile to the world.” Perhaps if we all had this goal, we’d be as happy-go-lucky as Poppy.

You Can’t Take It With You

Frank Capra’s You Can’t Take It With You (1938) is a wonderfully comical and heartwarming film, which, although rooted in its time period, is strangely relevant today. It is very idealistic (typical of Capra) and problematic in many ways in terms of realism and race representation, but it is by no means simple. It triumphs in character and comedic elements; the cast interacts wonderfully and brings the play by Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman to life, and the direction illustrates different ways of life in America, and the possibility of vitality and decency in society.

The center of the film is a very eccentric middle-class family, who live together in the same house and all do what they love to do. Their object is not money, but simply happiness. The leader and spokesperson of this family is Grandpa Vanderhof, played by the incomparable Lionel Barrymore. His grand-daughter is the heroine, Alice Sycamore, the lovely and spunky Jean Arthur. Other wonderful members of the family include Penny Sycamore, Alice’s mother and Vanderhof’s daughter (played by Spring Byington, the perfect mother), and Essie, Alice’s sister (played by the always-dancing Ann Miller). Alice falls in love with her boss, Tony Kirby (a young James Stewart), the son of a prominent banker, and he with her. The drama (or comedy) happens when Tony brings his upper-class and snobby parents to dinner at Alice’s chaotic house. We see the interaction of two families of different classes who have different philosophies of what makes America great: the opportunity of freedom or of money? Little do they know, Kirby’s new business deal is trying to buy the Vanderhof house (along with the whole block) and a new plot comes out of this coincidence.

I have a deep-rooted love for this film; I grew up with it and it warms my heart every time I see it. But seeing it today, one must mention the shortcomings of Capra’s work, even in this lovely film—some are things one must take with the time period, and others are just Capra and his shortsighted idealism. The representation of race in the film is stereotypical and simply racist: the only black people shown are the engaged couple who works for Alice’s family. They are treated well, and are somewhat part of the family, but portrayed as lazy, dumb, and of course not quite good enough to eat at the table with the family. The film also has an idealism that could be viewed as simple, and overly patriotic. It shows a camaraderie among neighbors, and a good old-fashioned American spirit, but only among white people. However, it’s almost impossible to find a Hollywood film of this time period that would give a realistic and fair representation of different races.

That said, the film still has an indomitable optimism and explores very contemporary political and social issues. The corporate greed portrayed in the film by Mr Kirby (Edward Arnold) is still very relevant and alive today— cold-hearted bankers trying to wipe out old neighborhoods to make way for big business. Kirby and Vanderhof are two opposing philosophies of America—the workaholic businessman focused on making a fortune and the simple middle-class man content with having fun and being surrounded by family— and these are still opposing forces that this country struggles with. We know which side Capra is on all the way, and the side we automatically go to. Both must learn to co-exist when their respective children fall in love, and that really means the self-important Kirbys coming around to the much happier and warmhearted lifestyle of the (at first) eccentric family. The other relevant issue I just discovered in this film is Tony Kirby’s dream career, which happens to be developing green energy, specifically solar power. There was no talk of green energy in 1938! Well, that just goes to show that eccentricities and idealistic imaginations in one time period can become extremely real and important in the next.

This film is, seemingly, a fun comedy with romance, zany situations, and typical Hollywood drama. It also has its imperfections in terms of race and self-righteous patriotism. But if one simultaneously digs deeper to reveal contemporary issues and just takes it as it is, it is at once a very enjoyable and surprisingly complex film. It explores the combating social forces in America, and shows the possibility of a good life in which the only things one needs are love, friendship, and freedom.

State of the Union

Frank Capra’s 1948 film State of the Union is an interesting political drama starring an unusual duo for Capra: Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. The film follows a similar narrative to other Capra dramas, but is not quite as good as most of the others, although it offers an intriguing look at politics during the late 1940s, and American politics in general. Tracy and Hepburn are what holds the film together, and they rise above the somewhat weak direction.

Once again an adaptation of a play (Pulitzer Prize winning no less), the film tells the story of the presidential campaign of an honest man who is backed and spurred on by corrupt businessmen (and women). Angela Lansbury plays the cold and heartless Kay Thorndyke, head of Thorndyke Press, who convinces Jim Conover (Adolphe Menjou), a Republican politician, to support and aid a “dark horse” who she wants to run for president in order to get back at certain Republicans who have shunned her newspaper. The horse is Grant Matthews (Spencer Tracy), a successful businessman becoming known for his speeches about supporting workers and uniting the country. Matthews is finally convinced to get into politics by the two sly puppeteers, with hopes that he can get the people behind him and right the wrongs in Washington. But Grant’s wife complicates things; she’s not the type of wife to simply stand behind her husband and smile, and certainly not one to be swayed by his new politician collaborators. Mary Matthews (Katharine Hepburn) is suspicious of the whole campaign, and not only because Grant and Kay happened to have had a small fling, and the Matthews marriage has been on the rocks since. But she does support and admire her husband, and she becomes a competitor for Conover and Thorndyke as she convinces Grant to use his own speeches and depend on the people, not the Republican party, to secure votes. Grant becomes caught in the middle of a personal fight, between his wife and the new woman he’s falling for, as well as a political fight between politics/business and the ideals he has always stood for.

This film is in some ways a familiar Capra recipe for drama and commentary on the state of the country, and it has a predictable climax. It does differ, however, from Capra’s previous dramas, in that it explores politics rather than society. Capra’s most political film (excluding his war propaganda films) before this one was Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939), and, in comparison, State of the Union can be seen as a somewhat matured and more cynical political film, or less sentimental. It is rooted in a kind of realism, exploring what goes on behind the scenes of political campaigns, and how many people influence a candidate. However, it lacks the heart and hope that made Capra’s previous films stand out among other political Hollywood dramas; it’s more negative than positive and has certain contradictions.

Grant is, at first glance, a sympathetic everyman hero, a familiar character for Tracy. But he is also a big businessman himself, who speaks with reverence for factories, mines and plants, and one might become suspicious of his love of industry and power. He does have a very interesting speech, however, about world relations, or globalization as we now refer to it, insisting that, as a world power, we have an obligation to support other developing countries in order to create a unified world. This speech has an intriguing relevance today, and also helps to make Grant into the inspiring hero, but he is then again easily swayed by his feelings for Kay and his new dream of political power.

The only character who is never swayed and stands stubbornly behind her and what were her husband’s principles, is Mary. The only time she does falter, during the last scene, Grant makes his last stand in order to save her from the corruption he’s succumbed to. Perhaps because they were a real-life couple, or just great actors, Tracy and Hepburn create the anchor and focus of this film. It has everything to do with politics but their couple is what gives it at least some heart. I could be biased, since Hepburn is one of my all-time favourites, but it’s she especially who creates in the film real scenes of feeling, amid much political intrigue and contradictory commentary. Lansbury, also usually great, is in a somewhat thankless role here.

State of the Union is a late Capra film, made after the beloved It’s a Wonderful Life, and, although I found it imperfect in many ways, it is worth seeing as part of his ouvre, in comparison with his earlier films, as well as for some issues brought up that have new found relevance in the current political world. It is also worth seeing as a lesser-known Tracy-Hepburn film in which they, as always, steal scenes from everyone except perhaps each other.

Platinum Blonde

Platinum Blonde (1931) is an early Capra film and a good prerequisite for his films to follow because of its themes and comedic situations. Although he had made nearly twenty films by 1931, this film stands out with its stars and its story, as well as its comedy. The first film that he garnered great success from was It Happened One Night, but Platinum Blonde most likely made his name well-known, in Hollywood at least. It’s a great classic to watch, not only for his direction, but also for the stars: Jean Harlow, Loretta Young, and the much lesser-known Robert Williams (who died right after the film was made) make up a very entertaining love triangle.

The film focuses on a reporter, Stewart Smith (Robert Williams), who writes a story about the scandal of a high-society family called Schuyler. He falls for the daughter of the family, Anne (Jean Harlow), and despite the story he printed, she falls for him as well and they promptly bring even more shame to the Schuyler name by secretly getting married. Now the husband of a rich heiress, his reporter friends make fun of him for marrying into money, and warn him he’ll come to be known simply as Anne Schuyler’s husband. His best friend from the newspaper, Gallagher, happens to be the lovely (and indeed very young) Loretta Young, who has always been in love with him, and takes the marriage the hardest. He gradually realizes the truth of the predictions after he moves into the Schuyler house and becomes stifled and humbled by his new wife and the high-society lifestyle.

The film offers great comedic situations and witty repartee between characters (written by Robert Riskin) as it is a battle between the upper class and the lower or middle class, and since reporters are always fast-talking and witty in Hollywood. This film does not yet display Capra’s serious commentary on different classes, but it certainly shows his strong preference for the lower classes. Of course, making fun of the upper class on the lower class’s account was quite common in Hollywood during the Depression, and an essential aspect of screwball comedy. This film fits in nicely with other screwball comedies of the era such as Dinner at Eight (1933), My Man Godfrey (1936), and Holiday (1938), which all get most of their laughs by poking fun at the rich, in order to make the many lower class viewers feel better.

Many scenes and details are distinctly Capra, however. One scene is almost exactly replicated in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town: Stewart, alone and restless in the Schuyler mansion, calls for the butler, Smythe (the excellent Halliwell Hobbes), and makes him yell in order to hear the echo that resounds throughout the house— the same action that Mr. Deeds engages in with his butler and servants. Stewart also comes to be known as the Cinderella man, the title that Mr. Deeds will be given, although the title has different meanings in each film. There is also a scene in which the entire newspaper staff follows Gallagher to the mansion and throws a wild party, which the outraged Schuyler family comes home to discover. It’s prescient of the clashing of the wild middle-class family with the rich family in You Can’t Take it with You.

In addition to the excellent comedy and situations that will become familiar further on in Capra’s career, the stars in the film are wonderful to watch. The two female stars, Harlow and Young, are pointedly opposites and both portray their characters with ease and talent. Young was only 18 when the film was made, but had been acting since she was a child, and is a glimpse into the independent career woman we see being played by Jean Arthur and Barbara Stanwyck in later Capra films. Harlow is also always a pleasure to watch, especially since she had a career that was cut short not long after this film. But speaking of short careers, Williams had probably the shortest of anyone in Hollywood, and is perhaps the best reason to see this film. He was only 24 when he died the same year the film was released, and it truly was a tragedy because he has the kind of comic wit and manly but real persona in this film that Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy would come to epitomize. He also has a style all his own; a very focused but natural comedy about him, and he brings out the smarts and kindness in his character, who is a tough guy but also a gentle soul who always does the right thing.

Platinum Blonde is a charming screwball comedy to watch, with a great love triangle between some of the best stars of the 30s. They are all quite young, just starting their careers (sadly not very long ones for Williams and Harlow) and honing their talents with a witty story. It’s the beginning of Capra’s career as well, which would be of course a very successful one, and he obviously looks back to this film more than once to find some of the comical moments, clever details, and timeless characters that he would use in his films to come.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town

Capra’s Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) is primarily a romantic comedy; it followed his best known romantic comedy, It Happened One Night, and the forgotten Broadway Bill, both from 1934. But Mr. Deeds has more than romance and comedy— it’s an early example of Capra using these genres but also including metaphors to comment more gravely on the state of the country and society. The reason that this original film is so superior to the remake Mr. Deeds (2002) is simply that in the more recent film they upped the romance and ridiculous comedy, and left out the social importance. Capra’s genius partly lay in creating (with the help of great writers) entertaining films for Hollywood that fit into familiar genres but also had social relevance, which is lacking in the majority of Hollywood films today, certainly the current bland romantic comedies.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town is about a regular small town man, an upstanding citizen, Longfellow Deeds (Gary Cooper), who inherits two million dollars from an uncle after he dies in a car accident. The uncle’s attorneys take him back to New York, hoping to make a quick settlement and get a large sum from this naïve and honest man. They, of course, are not the only ones hoping to get money out of him; New York is full of swindlers hoping to take advantage of this small town guy, who apparently doesn’t really want the money at all. But he is tougher and smarter than he looks and his upstanding honesty and goodness means that he won’t be swindled by any dishonest and greedy individual. The newspapers can’t lay their hands on him either, since he has a savvy press agent working for him (played by the hilarious Lionel Stander). The only reporter able and smart enough to get close to him is the lovely top reporter Babe Bennett (Jean Arthur), who pretends to be an innocent stenographer and takes Deeds around the city, with photographers at her beck and call and reporting everything for the front page story the next day.

The film presents a story of a man being taken advantage of in the big city, by everyone he meets, including the girl he’s fallen for. It’s a representation of the brutality of the city and its heartless residents— a metaphor for society as a whole and how badly citizens of the country treat one another without even thinking. Of course, Capra is anything but subtle in his representations and metaphors—his hero’s goodness of character and commentary on all he experiences gives us a clear message about the need and possibility for human kindness in society. Deeds’ answer as to what he should use the money for comes in a moving scene when an old farmer demands to see him and goes on a rampage about giving something to the starving families who have lost their properties and way of life. Deeds decides to put his money towards getting acres of the land to give to these families who can then own a new farm. The enormity of this task is shown with the thousands of poor farmers who show up at Deeds’ house, but he is insistent on seeing all of them and going through with his task.

The climax of the film is in a courtroom, where the attorneys are charging Deeds with insanity and an inability to handle the amount of money he has been given. He refuses to defend himself, seeming to have lost faith in society and its people, and it is Babe Bennett who helps save him from his hopelessness and wrong conviction, since she is after all in love with him as well. The story is indeed a romance, since Deeds saves Bennett—“the woman in distress” who he has always wanted to save—by making her a better person, and she in turn saves him. Their relationship is simple and sweet, the actors and director never create overly sappy moments; they create a romantic and hopeful pairing. And, through the romance plot, Capra creates a bigger picture of hope: one of a better society in which those with money will help those without, instead of using them to get ahead in the world.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town is one of the three Oscars Capra received for Best Director, and he is today a great example of one of the old Hollywood directors who knew how to use popular genres to make big studio films, without sacrificing content. While many shallow films were made by the studios to help people forget about the Depression and escape into a world of music and laughter, Capra was reminding the public of the hard times, while also giving a sense of hope and romance.