Edward Arnold

  • All That Money Can Buy aka The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) I’m fond of deal-with-the-devil stories, and that partially explains why I expected much more from The Devil and Daniel Webster. Taking place in nineteenth century New Hampshire, the story follows a farmer after he makes a pact with the devil for luck and prosperity on his hardscrabble farm. “Mr. Scratch” obligingly appears and arranges for said good fortune, in exchange for a mere soul seven years later. Except that by the time the seven years are over, it’s debatable how much of a soul our protagonist has left considering his subsequent turn toward evil. Frantic to avoid hellish condemnation, he turns to gifted orator Daniel Webster to arrange a formal trial to decide the fate of the contract. What’s most noteworthy about the film (yet toned down considerably from Stephen Vincent Benét’s original short story) is the sheer Americanism of it—gleefully linking the farmer’s fate to that of the republic, dredging infamous figures from American history to act as jurors, and opposing the essential nature of Americans against nothing less than the devil. It’s all a bit big, yet charming in its own way, as the film becomes increasingly fantastical. But that quirk of execution is not enough to make the result all that compelling—while Edward Arnold is not bad as Webster (and Walter Huston as Mr. Scratch), the film doesn’t quite take off when it should—for a film whose third act is predicated on fanciful oration, the result remains more pedestrian than expected. The rest of The Devil and Daniel Webster can be a slog as well, especially in the first act where all the expected pieces are still being put together. It all amounts to a rather disappointing result—not quite the solid hit that should have been.

  • Come and Get It (1936)

    Come and Get It (1936)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, August 2019) I’m on a mission to watch the entire Howard Hawks filmography, and at this point in the process, having covered most of his classics, I’m starting to get to his lesser-known films. Come and Get It is one of those, and a bit of an oddball title as he was reportedly fired about two thirds of the way through. Adapted from a novel, it’s a complex and occasionally off-putting story of multi-generational infatuation, as a married lumber baron falls for the daughter of the woman he left behind decades previously. There are multiple complications, to the point of resulting in a messy plot that leaves few people happy when it reaches its ending, spurned would-be adulterous protagonist and all. (Note to modern viewers: The Hays Code was slightly more permissive when filmmakers worked from existing novels, but not that much—which helps explain the film’s jerky and unconvincing morals.)  Considering that Hawks didn’t direct all of Come and Get It, it’s hard to pinpoint his exact contribution, but the spectacular footage of old-school logging operations early in the film was enough to warm my French-Canadian heart and certainly resonates with other Hawks movies. Much of the film’s best moments come early on, what with barroom brawling and sharp scenes to establish the characters. It’s afterwards that Come and Get It seems to lose its way, never quite sure whether to commit to tragedy or romance. (Or to say something about environmental matters, which had been one of Hawks’ initial concerns.)  Three good actors manage to make the film better than its confused screenplay: Edward Arnold as the morally ambiguous protagonist, Joel McCrea as the romantic lead, but especially Frances Farmer in a well-controlled dual role. Walter Brennan is a bit annoying, but that’s his character more than the actor. Despite a fair start, Come and Get It ultimately feels aimless and maybe even a bit cut short—it doesn’t completely capitalize on its strengths, and knowing about its troubled production explains some of the issues.