George Cukor

Camille (1936)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, November 2020) Firmly steeped in the tradition of 1930s romantic period melodramas, Camille never hesitates to go with the big dramatic guns—no subtlety is allowed here, and the ending milks everything out of its depressing nature. The main draw here is Greta Garbo as a 19th century Parisian belle, draped in the best costumes that Hollywood could muster at the time. She is, as is de rigueur for such heroines, both afflicted with a deadly disease and torn between two men. Adapted from Alexandre Dumas’s La Dame aux camélias (itself inspired by Dumas’ own courtship), the rest of the plot plays exactly as you would expect an old-school romantic tragedy to go. Lavishly produced, Camille still has a few things worth crowing about—the great sets, terrific costumes and a completely humourless Garbo in one of her most memorable performances being what anyone will remember from the film. It is, obviously, not for everyone—as an old-fashioned weepie, it almost plays to clichés all the way through. But it’s not exactly a painful film to watch, and it does help round out George Cukor’s early filmography.

One Hour with You (1932)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, October 2020) It’s easy to see in One Hour with You why Maurice Chevalier was Hollywood’s Favourite Frenchman in the early 1930s—It’s not just about the really charming accent, it’s about the congenial bonhomie, the joie de vivre and the almost irresistible charm of the man. This may not be a great movie, but it’s a lot of fun and it allows Chevalier to do what he does best, up to speaking (and singing) directly to the audience in an attempt to explain himself. The story, slight as it is, has to do with a happily married couple being tempted by adultery—and while, in the freewheeling pre-Code era, our heroes do succumb to “temptation” by kissing, modern audiences may want to fill out more salacious details in their minds. Still, the plot isn’t nearly as interesting as seeing Chevalier (and Jeanette MacDonald as his wife) sing and deliver some great monologues, along with some witty repartee and sophisticated European attitude toward marriage, love and courtship. Amazingly enough, the film can be said to have been directed by Ernest Lubitsch and George Cukor thanks to some production shenanigans, although the Lubitsch touch is more obvious. Clocking in at a tightly tuned 80 minutes, the film earns a few laughs and leaves us with a big smile on our faces (which, considering that I watched it in close proximity with other tales of adultery through the decades, is no mean feat). A great script filled with witty dialogue and sophisticated comedy wraps up the rest. A clear star vehicle that delivers, One Hour With You is a shining example of Pre-Code romantic comedy, funny, daring and still incredibly effective ninety years later.

The Marrying Kind (1952)

The Marrying Kind (1952)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, September 2020) According to contemporary accounts, audiences didn’t quite know what to make of The Marrying Kind’s blend of comedy and drama, as it worked its way backward in flashbacks from the divorce court to show the strains of an ordinary marriage. Helmed by George Cukor, the film showcased funny scenes in between more dramatic ones, and I can understand how unpleasant it must have felt for critics and audiences back then to sit through what feels like ninety minutes of arguments between husband and wife. But there’s been a critical re-evaluation of the film by later generations, helped along by a growing familiarity with movies blending comedy and drama—we can draw parallels with 2019’s Marriage Story as a sombre film with darkly comic moments, and quite a few romantic comedies willing to showcase more serious moments on their way to a happy conclusion. It’s not a stretch to say that modern audiences are more sophisticated about their movies—or at least that they’ve seen many kinds of tones and moods. As a result, The Marrying Kind does work relatively well today: The unusual flashback-filled structure is more interesting than most similar films of the time, Cukor makes good use of ironic visuals to counterpoint spoken narration, and there’s an attempt to depict an unglamorous reality at work here. Far from the idealized portrait of marriage and archetypical characters, here we have two people struggling to make it work, suffering humbling setbacks and yet building something together. Judy Holliday does well as the wife, while Aldo Ray is sometimes a bit caricatural as the husband. Still, their work does find a happy compromise between the attempt at realism and the glossiness of studio pictures at the time. It’s a bit too dark to be fully enjoyable, but it will be interesting for those looking for evidence that the studios knew about real life even at the beginning of the glossy glam 1950s.

Travels with my Aunt (1972)

Travels with my Aunt (1972)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, September 2020) I’m a big fan of George Cukor and will make a good-faith attempt at watching most of his filmography, but Travels with my Aunt is clearly from the twilight of his career—still amusing, but a clear step down from his previous films. The somewhat convoluted plot has a young shy English gentleman discovering an eccentric aunt during his mother’s funeral, and being manipulated in extensive travels through Europe and eventually Africa in the pursuit of a ransom. Plenty of opportunities come along for him to grow up along the way. He may be the protagonist, but the dominant character of the story is the titular aunt, played with exuberant panache by none other than Maggie Smith. Considering that the story switches back and forth in time between the present-day travels and excerpts from the aunt’s younger wilder days, Smith ends up playing an old version of her character and a really good-looking younger self as well. The effect for modern viewers is delightfully strange, as “old” Smith looks like the one with which we’re most familiar, making the impact of the younger Smith all the more apparent. The complex plot takes us across the continent and to personal growth for the oddball characters, but the way to that point feels loose and indulgent. If you read about the film’s genesis, there’s quite a bit of material there about this being a picaresque episodic novel first, before being adapted for the screen by an uncredited Katherine Hepburn (!) Fortunately, Travels with my Aunt does hold up as a mildly entertaining comedy with a production that obviously travelled as much as its characters did. It’s colourful, light, twisty and fun. Perhaps not as much so as earlier Cukor movies, but you can put it against a lot of other early-1970s New Hollywood productions as an antidote to their dreariness.

Two-Faced Woman (1941)

Two-Faced Woman (1941)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, August 2020) What a strange, strange idea—to put famous can’t-laugh Greta Garbo as the lead of an ordinary romantic comedy. Sure, the film has a pedigree—with George Cukor directing, Two-Faced Woman at least has some baseline quality. But Garbo? She’s miscast so badly—in the role of a woman who pretends to play her own (fictional) twin sister in order to get her husband back—that she retired after this film. (Her retirement wasn’t completely due to Two-Faced Woman’s commercial flop—but it did not help.) This being said—ah, how can I say—I liked the film anyway. For one thing, the classic oh-so-serious Garbo isn’t my favourite; and for another thing, I’ve always had a soft spot for silly over-the-top comedy. Combine those things, and Two-Faced Woman isn’t so bad after all. Sure, the film is a bit mishandled (some of it due to hasty reshoots to placate censors) a bit broad, a bit inconsistent. But it’s still a high-concept romantic comedy, and this is one of the rare films where being unfamiliar (or unsympathetic) with the filmography of its star may be a benefit. I do think that another comedienne would have been better (as in: looser, funnier) than Garbo, but the film itself is worth a look and a few chuckles.

It Should Happen to You (1954)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, June 2020) No matter whether you’re talking about 2020s influencers or 1950s aspiring actresses, the lure of instant fame is evergreen, and It Should Happen to You offers a time capsule of what that looked like in mid-twentieth century America. The hook lies in having an obscure young woman taking out a billboard in her name, hoping that the publicity will lead somewhere. Against all odds, it works—and she quickly finds herself in a romantic triangle between a well-off executive and a more modest filmmaker. The unusual premise quickly leads to a far more conventional romantic comedy, but there are enough known names in the production to keep things interesting. Under George Cukor’s direction, we have Judy Holliday as the young not-so-smart ingenue, being wooed by Peter Lawford and Jack Lemmon in his movie debut. While some of the film’s initial intentions get lost in the shuffle, the film ends on a funny and romantic note. The black-and-white cinematography highlights It Should Happen to You’s old-fashioned atmosphere (at times, it feels like a late-1930s film): Maybe Cukor, as competent as he was, couldn’t quite bring himself to shoot the material in colour and reflect the slightly dourer 1950s—ah, colour footage of those Manhattan locations would have been something to see! The actors are all charming in their own way: while I’ll confess never quite getting the fascination for Holliday’s persona, she does well here. While not a waste of time, It Should Happen to You certainly does feel as if it’s restraining itself—although, considering that it’s about advertising in the mid-1950s, we’re already getting quite a lot.

The Actress (1953)

The Actress (1953)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, March 2020) While adapted from the life of actress-playwright Ruth Gordon, The Actress (despite being scripted by Gordon herself) aims for amiable family comedy more than biographical sketch. By using Spencer Tracy as the sometimes-goofy family patriarch, it’s likely that director George Cukor meant to evoke fresh good of his then-fresh turns in Father of the Bride and Father’s Little Dividend. The theatrical origins of the story aren’t readily apparent in the film’s eagerness to vary locations, but the quality of the dialogue is there. Still, the film does feel (especially seventy years later) like a small-scale domestic comedy. The biggest conflict is whether the family will accept the daughter’s dream of becoming an actress, and this being a Classical Hollywood movie, you can guess how that ends. There’s an affectionate component to the film’s look back to 1913 Massachusetts, and an amiable tone to the family’s small-scale troubles. Anthony Perkins shows up (in his debut) as a would-be suitor. The Actress, in many ways, is charming in its mediocrity—something to watch if you haven’t got enough of Tracy’s patrician roles.

A Life of Her Own (1950)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, March 2020) There are so many examples of how the Production Code undermined the substance of films told between 1934 and the 1960s that it’s hardly useful to throw another example on the pile. Still, there’s A Life of Her Own as yet another example—a visibly toothless portrait of a young woman trying to make it in New York City that flirts with a more mature outlook than other 1930s films, yet can’t quite have the creative freedom to really make any kind of point. (It’s even worse when you measure the film against the original novel, which is remarkably darker.) Lana Turner stars as a Midwestern girl coming to Manhattan, meeting an older woman who didn’t make it (and who then kills herself), becomes successful, gets involved in an affair with a married man, and—well, this is where the film gets particularly fuzzy. The original ending had her kill herself in a cyclical commentary on the process that grinds young hopefuls into washed-up husks (and as evidence that under the Production Code, no one gets away with adultery); the rewritten ending is an unsatisfying step back from the ledge without much meaning to it. Clearly, A Life of Her Own isn’t one of director George Cukor’s finest works—but then again, the film’s production history suggests that he knew that the project was doomed under the Production Code.

The Chapman Report (1962)

The Chapman Report (1962)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, February 2020) Expectations are a dangerous thing, especially when we’ve been conditioned by later movies to assume a certain style or tone given plot summaries. Considering the spate of 1960s sex comedies exploring the loosened mores of mainstream America, you would be more than forgiven for thinking that The Chapman Report, revolving as it does around academics researching the sexual habits of average Americans, would be a silly farce. Something light and perhaps naughty, if dozens of later movies are any guide. But light and naughty are exactly what it is not: This is an early-1960s movie that clearly shows signs of being stuck in the 1950s—from the opening few minutes, it’s clear that this will be an earnest drama about characters coping with sexual permissiveness and how it can ruin their lives. As our sex researchers become entangled with their volunteer subjects, the heavy relationship drama becomes increasingly suffocating. Even on those terms, it becomes long, turgid and so incredibly dull that I had to make a conscious effort to remember why I had recorded it—because it’s from director George Cukor, far better known for his Classic Hollywood lighthearted comedies. But 1960s Cukor wasn’t as nimble at 1930s Cukor—his growing misanthropy is reflected in the high-contrast colour cinematography, with entire character’s clothing disappearing in the deep blacks of the background. It’s essential to remind ourselves that The Chapman Report was daringly made for an audience still tittering uncomfortably over the Kinsey Report on human sexuality (obviously the inspiration for the film)—it’s almost inevitable that the film would become abnormally boring to today’s far more sophisticated audiences. It certainly doesn’t help that the film is far more analytical than emotional, putting an atmosphere of dishonesty over something that could have been animated by honest emotions. (There are far more restrained movies from the Hays Code that are more heartfelt than this one, and much of it has to do with real emotions being used rather than couching it in quasi-legal dramatic analysis.) Ah well—I didn’t expect all Cukor movies to be worth my time, but The Chapman Report is particularly disappointing.

Her Cardboard Lover (1942)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, January 2020) Once you’re deep into classic Hollywood movies, you start picking movies for their stars and directors rather than their plot or historical importance. That’s how I ended up watching Her Cardboard Lover, a somewhat forgotten George Cukor film that nonetheless features the ever-cute Norma Shearer playing off George Sanders (in a typically antagonistic role) to the rather likable Robert Taylor. The plot of the film isn’t much to talk about—it’s the old-fashioned formula of one woman using a man to make another jealous. But it’s handled with enough whimsy to make it fun despite the familiarity. Some surprisingly enjoyable dialogue and repartee, especially between Shearer and Taylor, do keep things entertaining during the entire film. The two male leads even get into a very funny fight scene, which is somewhat atypical for the reserved Sanders. We can quibble about the lead female character’s flightiness and her overall romantic suitability when she’s happy to pit two men against each other, but Her Cardboard Special remains a romantic comedy that wraps up nicely—nothing special, but highly enjoyable.

Born Yesterday (1950)

Born Yesterday (1950)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, October 2019) There’s a deceptive simplicity to the premise of Born Yesterday: from afar, it’s a standard Pygmalion spinoff, what with a journalist being asked to educate the girlfriend of a businessman. But it’s in its execution that the film proves to be quite a bit more than expected. For one thing, the film (which takes place in Washington) doesn’t miss an opportunity to link personal virtues to political values—the coarse businessman who slaps his wife is proved to be a criminal who aspires to fascism (how familiar!), and the ingenue who learns better about the bedrock principles of the nation uses that knowledge to emancipate herself from a bad situation. Then there’s Judy Holliday, who comes across (though a grating voice and uncouth manners) as a hopeless self-obsessed hick but eventually proves herself as smart as everyone else—and do so in an almost imperceptible manner, making us care before we even know it’s happening. William Holden and Broderick Crawford also provide good performances to round up the lead trio. The script is a bit blunt at times and certainly predictable overall, but it does have moments of cleverness and humour, good dialogue and effective directing. Handled by veteran George Cukor, Born Yesterday proves to be a solid comedy with a timeless message, a still-impressive lead performance and a political message that really wouldn’t be out of place in a Frank Capra film.

What Price Hollywood? (1932)

What Price Hollywood? (1932)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, August 2019) This is it: the granddaddy of the A Star is Born series, and reportedly one of the first successful movies that Hollywood made about Hollywood, warts and all. The story follows a young girl determined to make it big in Hollywood, as she gains fame and must deal with the consequences. If you’ve seen the later remakes, this will initially feel familiar, although the film does play with its plot elements in a different way than the later movies. This being said, we’re still working from the same playbook here: rising female star, declining male star, the corrosive impact of media attention that makes people into fictions, alcoholism, handlers, and so on. It still works nearly ninety years later—it’s a tale old and yet always true, melodramatic but still understandable despite old-school gender roles and dated technology. This was, after all, made barely five years into the sound movie era, and the film does make the most out of the “fan magazines” that existed at the time. The Pre-Code status of the film can be most clearly seen with a dressing scene with nylons that wouldn’t have passed muster even five years later. George Cukor directs with occasional flair, effectively demonstrating the skills that would see him direct movies for the next forty years. Perhaps the best recommendation one can make about What Price Hollywood? is that it’s an early take on A Star is Born, except sufficiently different to keep it interesting, and with a very distinctive early-thirties view on the early thirties Hollywood—which, to be clear, was barely twenty years old at that point.

Sylvia Scarlett (1935)

Sylvia Scarlett (1935)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, July 2019) The historical record tells us that Sylvia Scarlett was a notorious flop upon release; that it had a legendarily bad test screening; and that it helped send Katharine Hepburn’s career in a slump that would take five years to correct. And certainly, it’s a film with its share of flaws—starting with a herky-jerky plot that’s unpredictable not because it’s particularly clever, but because it goes from one thing to another without much forethought. There are some intensely weird mood swings to the story, as it goes from comedy to the death of a main character to once more into comedy. But it’s also a film with many interesting things, especially from a modern perspective. The biggest of those is probably the presence of Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant, both of them young and dashing and still developing the persona that would follow them throughout their career. Grant’s charm is a bit subdued under a Cockney accent and a character meant to keep audiences either guessing or seething. Hepburn’s turn is far more interesting, as the tergiversations of the plot mean that she spends about half the film in drag, playing a young man. She goes from long tresses to a boy’s haircut, with makeup accents meant to highlight her masculine features. It’s not a bad look, and she does sell the illusion despite being, well, 1930s world-class beauty Katharine Hepburn. Brian Aherne also does quite well as a deliciously likable character absolutely unphased by the revelation that Hepburn’s character is, in fact, a girl. One can see, however, that depression-era America may not have known what to do with the gender-bending comedy of the film (complete with real same-sex kissing and proposed perceived same-sex cuddling). Director George Cukor keeps things moving, but there isn’t that much directorial prowess to the 90-minute film. The comedy is more a case of chuckles than outright laughter: it doesn’t go the extra mile and never makes the fullest use of the elements at its disposal. The ending is odd—satisfying at a basic romantic level, and yet a bit scattered in the way it gets there. It’s perhaps best to see Sylvia Scarlett as a curio, an early showcase for two legendary actors, and also an early example of queer cinema at a time when the Hays Code was starting to crack down on anything outside heteronormativity. (One notes that Cukor was homosexual and that Hepburn was widely rumoured to be bisexual.)  By 1935 standards, Sylvia Scarlett may have been an odd flop—but today, it’s far more interesting than most other movies of the time.

Little Women (1933)

Little Women (1933)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(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.

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)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(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.