Edna May Oliver

Little Women (1933)

Little Women (1933)

(On Cable TV, July 2019) There’s been quite a few film adaptations of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women over the decades, with the 1994 version being most familiar to modern audiences and two more versions released in 2018 and 2019. Still, one of the most enduring versions remains the George Cukor 1933 Little Women, featuring no less than Katharine Hepburn in one of her earliest featured roles. The story is episodic—it’s about the coming-of-age adventures of four Massachusetts sisters during and after the Civil War, as they try to keep the household together in their father’s absence. Romantic and dramatic vignettes follow. This being a 1933 film, barely six years out of the silent movie age, there’s quite a bit of period melodrama in what is presented on-screen. Still, it was a big-budget, good-natured blockbuster movie at a time when the movie industry was under fire for pushing vulgar sensibilities … and it became a hit. The can-do spirit of the film found resonance in the then-current Depression, and the absence of an outright villain was (and remains) a nice change of pace. It can still be watched with some amount of interest, although frankly you can be there just to watch Hepburn and Edna May Oliver. (This being said: I’m a big fan of 1930s Katharine Hepburn, but she gets some serious competition here from Jean Parker.)  It’s a film of its time, but it was close to being the best of what was produced in early-1930s Hollywood. As an actor’s showcase from past generations, Little Women is still worth a look.

A Tale of Two Cities (1935)

A Tale of Two Cities (1935)

(On Cable TV, June 2019) Not being all that familiar with Charles Dickens’s novel beyond the celebrated opening lines, I got to enjoy A Tale of Two Cities first as a story and then as a film. As such, I had a better time than expected: the story takes twists and turns that may be unpredictable to modern audiences weaned on a clean three-act structure, and on more traditional notions of heroism. The dialogue here is remarkably good, and the actors do get substantial parts to play. As befits a mid-1930s prestige production, there are great costumes, lavish sets, and arresting set-pieces. The pivotal Prise de la Bastille sequence does feel as if it comes from another movie as it switches from costume drama to large-scale action-packed filmmaking—it’s even explicitly credited to another director! Still, it does set the stage for the film’s more sombre sequences with post-revolutionary kangaroo courts convicting the guilty and the innocents alike. Despite some hiccups in the plotting challenge of trying to fit a complex multi-year novel in barely two hours, I quite enjoyed the film—good work by the actors helps a lot in executing a good script. Ronald Colman is particularly good as the self-acknowledged drunk lawyer who becomes the hero of the story. One of my favourite character actresses of the era, Edna May Oliver, gets a few choice quips and even an action sequence late in the movie. The elegiac ending sequence, deftly handling tricky melodramatic material, does tie the film in a satisfying bow. A Tale of Two Cities works best as a double feature with the also-1935 version of David Copperfield for a double dose of 1930s Dickens featuring Oliver.

The Personal History, Adventures, Experience, & Observation of David Copperfield the Younger aka David Copperfield (1935)

The Personal History, Adventures, Experience, & Observation of David Copperfield the Younger aka David Copperfield (1935)

(On Cable TV, May 2019) As faithful an adaptation of Dicken’s semi-autobiographical novel as could be expected from a mid-thirties Hollywood super production. (Today, David Copperfield would be best handled as a miniseries.)  Great production values, from costumes to sets to then-rare outdoors shots. But the film is perhaps best seen to the semi-amazing cast, including W. C. Fields in a more or less serious role, the incomparable Edna May Oliver in a likable role, and other 1930s notables such as Basil Rathbone and Lionel Barrymore. Directed by George Cukor, showing early prowess handling complex ensemble cast.

Romeo and Juliet (1936)

Romeo and Juliet (1936)

(On Cable TV, March 2019) There are films that I watch out of obligation, and the 1936 version of Romeo and Juliet is one of them—It’s directed by notable filmmaker George Cukor, won a few Oscars, features a few name actors from the era and still ranks on extended best-of lists. The problem (and I’ve discussed this elsewhere) is that Shakespearian dialogue in English bores me beyond belief. So, I may have listened with half an ear—with some help from an adaptation that adapted, shortened and simplified some of the material. This being said, there’s enough in the film on a visual level to keep things interesting—great costumes, decent sets, and actors looking as if they’re really enjoying doing Shakespeare on-screen. (Oh, and Edna May Oliver as the nurse!) Cukor directs with a sure hand, while Leslie Howard does well as Romeo, John Barrymore distinguishes himself as Mercutio, and Norma Shearer makes a decent Juliet. Frankly, the whole thing still looks so good that you can be forgiven from not paying much attention to the dialogue. It’s interesting to compare and contrast it with later versions: Put against the (dull) 1968 Zeffirelli version and the (hyperactive) 1995 Luhrmann version, this Romeo and Juliet feels closer to what we would imagine a lavish theatrical production to look like.