Happy Endings (originally published 12/94)

Somewhere along the way, happy endings fell into disrepute in the movie business. They're considered corny, facile, and unpardonably naive. To state the matter bluntly, in certain critical circles a happy ending is considered to be the last resort of a hack who just isn't creative enough to come up with a proper ending.

The lone exception is Frank Capra, who built virtually his entire distinguished career on happy endings. The result has been that nearly all subsequent feel-good movies have tended to be lumped into the same category -- an all-purpose critical dustbin labeled "Failed Capra Imitations." That's what happened this year to the relentlessly panned "Trapped in Paradise."

My contention, however, is that there is nothing inherently wrong with happy endings. It's just that there is a right way and a wrong way to do them, and almost everyone these days does them the wrong way. Frank Capra didn't have a magic touch. He just knew what he was doing.

What Capra understood is that happy endings have to be earned. Think of the ending of "It's a Wonderful Life," for instance. We can believe that all those townsfolk would shower George Bailey with money because Capra has very carefully shown each individual being helped by George during the course of the film.

Capra also understood that we will accept a radiant burst of optimism at the end of a movie only if the bulk of the story maintains a sternly unromanticized undertow. Again, look at "It's a Wonderful Life." The ending may be warm and fuzzy, but during the two hours or so leading up to it Capra has picked that little town apart with a gimlet eye, exposing all manner of pettiness and small-minded iniquity among its citizenry. By holding sentiment in abeyance, Capra makes us hunger for it. When the sentimental flood gates open in the last five minutes, then, we are too grateful to be put off by it.

If you're one of the many who have been disappointed by "Trapped in Paradise," and you want to see how feel-good movies ought to be done, you should know that "It's a Wonderful Life" is just the beginning of the Capra titles available on home video. Here are some others to look for.

"Mr. Deeds Goes to Town" (1936). Gary Cooper stars as Longfellow Deeds, an eccentric but goodhearted fellow who inherits $20 million from a rich uncle. Having no use for the money himself, he resolves to give it away in the form of land and livestock to needy people who are willing to work a farm. There's a happy ending, but much of the film is deeply cynical, rubbing our noses in the machinations of greed and betrayal at work to thwart Deeds in his altruistic aspirations. Reproduced below, courtesy of Turner Classic Movies, is a promotional trailer for a re-release of the film.



"Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" (1939). When a U.S. senator dies unexpectedly, the political bosses who pulled his strings must decide who should be appointed to serve out his term. They pick Jefferson Smith (James Stewart), a local scoutmaster with no political experience. Smith is a wide-eyed, naive patriot who reveres Washington, D.C. and believes in the wisdom and nobility of its elected officials, so the political bosses figure that he will be easy to manipulate. By the time we get to the happy ending, Capra has taken a hard-edged look at political corruption that "60 Minutes" would be proud of.

"State of the Union" (1948). Having already skewered political officeholders, Capra shifted his focus with this film to the campaigns by which politicians attain their positions. Again, his viewpoint is tough-minded and unsparing. Spencer Tracy plays Grant Matthews, a prosperous and idealistic industrialist who allows himself to be persuaded to run for president. Early on in his campaign his straight talk endears him to the voters. Soon, however, he finds himself constrained by the fat cats who actually deliver the votes. Before Capra mercifully grants us our happy ending, we must watch this likable, intelligent man reduced to parroting the words of greedy and cynical political handlers.

Of course, there are always those who can't stand happy endings even when they are done properly. Some critics of Capra's time sneered at his work, calling it "Capra-corn." I can't tell you their names, because posterity has chosen to erase them from its page. The name of Frank Capra, on the other hand, is engraved there forever. Now that's a happy ending.

Funny, You Don't Look Bigoted (originally published 10/92)

I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for socially conscious movies. Even the ones that aren’t so good deserve some points for having their hearts in the right places, it seems to me. In this most expensive and therefore most bottom line driven of all art forms, it takes a special kind of fortitude to approach the ticket buying public with cautionary tales and jeremiads.

That’s why I plan to buy a ticket to see a film called “School Ties,” and why I will want very much to like it. It tells the story of a Jewish boy trying to cope with the vicious anti-Semitism of his classmates at a private school during the 1950s. Considering the fact that most of the entrepreneurs who founded the American film industry were Jewish, it’s surprising how few films down through the years have confronted the problem of anti-Semitism. Still, there are a few. Here are some of the better ones.

“Gentleman’s Agreement” (1947). Director Elia Kazan’s film version of the novel by Laura Z. Hobson, although no longer the bombshell it was when initially released, nevertheless remains potent. Gregory Peck plays a magazine feature writer who has been assigned to write a series of articles on anti-Semitism. Searching for a unique slant for his articles, he hits upon the idea of posing as a Jew for six weeks to see if people act differently toward him. He is utterly unprepared for the drastic changes in his life that are brought about by the simple act of changing the name on his mailbox from “Green” to “Greenberg.” Even the woman with whom he has recently become romantically involved behaves differently toward him.

“Crossfire” (1947). Released the same year as “Gentleman’s Agreement,” this dark and brooding little picture features Robert Ryan as a soldier whose hatred of Jews leads him to commit murder. We watch in horror as he flies into a rage at an inoffensive Jewish man who is seated next to him in a bar. Unwilling or unable to contain his irrational hatred, he ultimately picks a fight with this perfect stranger and beats him to death. The remainder of the film focuses on the police investigation of the crime. One thing puzzles the investigators: the lack of any apparent motive. As the investigation proceeds, they slowly come to the awful realization that this was a crime of pure hatred, having nothing to do with the victim as an individual. For a sampling of how raw the bigotry is, and how nakedly the film portrays it, have a look at the film's promotional trailer, reproduced below courtesy of Turner Classic Movies.



“The Great Dictator” (1940). In his first talking picture, Charlie Chaplin decided to satirize Adolph Hitler and the Nazi party. Chaplin himself plays two roles, one as Adenoid Hynkel, dictator of Tomania, and one as a little Jewish barber. Hynkel, like Hitler, persecutes the Jews, including our barber friend. Despite the fact that this is a comedy, Chaplin did not shrink from portraying the cruelty of the oppressors in scenes of straight drama.

“Cabaret” (1972). Bob Fosse’s film version of the Broadway musical stars Liza Minnelli, Michael York, and Joel Grey. The main story line chronicles the odd relationship between a writer and an eccentric cabaret singer. The setting is Berlin during the 1930s, a time when no one was sure yet how seriously to take the Nazi party, with their funny little stiff-arm salute. An important subplot involves a Jewish couple who are victimized by the Nazis. By the end of the film, it is clear that those who thought the Nazis were a joke have made a tragic error in judgment. “Cabaret” is based on an earlier (non-musical) film called “I Am a Camera” (1955), which in turn was based on Christopher Isherwood’s book “Goodbye to Berlin.”

“Fiddler on the Roof” (1971). The musical adaptation of Sholem Aleichem’s stories of Tevye the milkman and the small Russian village of Anatevka is set before the Russian Revolution, when the Czar was still in power. The Jews of Anatevka therefore live under the constant threat of a mass execution, or pogrom, as they were called. The Czar or his officials could order a pogrom at any time, for strategic purposes or just on a whim. Interestingly, the local officials of the Czar, who live in Anatevka along with the Jews, seem sympathetic to them. Feeling no personal enmity, they are “just following orders.” In some ways, this is anti-Semitism at its most frightening.

The collective message of these films is that intolerance is forever busy. It’s good to know that some filmmakers are still about the business of keeping us reminded.

The Thinking Machines, Part 2 (originally published 7/05)

From Pinocchio to Frankenstein's monster to the Tin Man of Oz, we have long been fascinated by stories about artificially constructed facsimiles of humanity and their desire to become fully human. Among other things, such stories prompt us to ponder a fascinating question: if an animate being looks more or less humanoid and has the power of articulate speech, what else is required for it to be considered fully human? The Tin Man felt that the capacity to feel deep emotion (a heart) would make the crucial difference. For Pinocchio, it was autonomy (no strings) that was lacking. Frankenstein's monster could not think himself fully human without companionship, the one thing that was forever denied him.

The latest piece of popular fiction to engage the question of what it means to be human by way of a pseudo-human character is the recently released "Stealth," in which a computer-based Naval aircraft flight controller develops a mind of its own, with calamitous results. As we saw last week, however, plenty of earlier films have also toyed with this concept. Here are a few more such titles to look for on home video.

"Blade Runner" (1982). Philip K. Dick is one of those writers whose best work is more philosophical than dramatic, which makes his books fiendishly difficult to adapt for the screen. Faced with the problem of adapting Dick's "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?," Hampton Fancher and David Peoples elected, probably wisely, to drop back and punt, creating a film that owes at least as much to Jean-Luc Godard's "Alphaville" (1965) as to Dick's novel. Only minimal hints remain of Dick's musings on the ultimate impossibility of verifying your own identity, or even your own existence. Instead, we are given an entertaining adventure story featuring Harrison Ford as a bounty hunter assigned to eliminate a band of renegade androids. The problem is that android design has advanced to the point where only a highly trained specialist is capable of distinguishing them from humans. But if the distinction is that fine, how fine is the moral distinction between destroying an android and murdering a human being?


"D.A.R.Y.L." (1985). The title acronym refers to an android in the form of a young boy (specifically, a Data Analyzing Robot Youth Lifeform) played by Barret Oliver. The two halves of this film are significantly different in tone, almost creating the impression of two shorter films yoked together. The first half shows us a childless couple who become foster parents to the abandoned Daryl, not suspecting that he is an android. Only after the youngster proves to be preternaturally adept at all sorts of skills do they begin to suspect the truth. The second half involves the parents' attempt to protect Daryl from the agency that created him, which now wants him recalled and destroyed.


"Making Mr. Right" (1987). For a lighter look at the contrast (or lack thereof) between artificial intelligence and humanity, try this engaging satire. John Malkovich appears in a dual role, both as Dr. Jeff Peters, a research scientist, and as Ulysses, the android Peters has created in his own image. Peters generally fits the stereotype of the emotionally stunted, socially backward scientific genius. Ulysses, however, is intended to be a cash cow for the corporation that funded his creation. In order to realize the full benefit of promoting Ulysses, it will be necessary for him to learn how to interact with humans effectively. Since his creator is himself deficient in that area, a public relations consultant is hired to educate Ulysses in the social graces. The consultant, whose name is Frankie Stone (get it?), is played by Ann Magnuson. Frankie makes the most of her unique opportunity to do a complete emotional makeover on a man (or at least an approximation of one) without having to overcome a lifetime of societal gender conditioning. The inevitable result is that Ulysses ends up as an altogether more humane being than the actual human who created him.


No one, by the way, follows the precipitous developments in artificial intelligence more warily than writers. Those of us who remember how passive and compliant typewriters were still have not entirely adjusted to our computers having the temerity to suggest that we may have misspelled a word. So far, my computer still needs my help to turn out this column every week. But a year from now, who knows?

The Thinking Machines (originally published 7/05)

One of the most chilling psycopathic killers ever to have been brought to the screen must undoubtedly be HAL-9000, the Jupiter mission's onboard computer in Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey." By developing a will to power, making the leap from calculation in the arithmetic sense to calculation in the Machiavellian sense, HAL crosses a disquieting threshold, introducing the taint of human foibles into the realm of artificial intelligence.

The latest screen progeny of HAL is "EDI," the computer-based Naval aircraft flight controller featured in "Stealth." EDI proves to be the perfect flight crewman, until a lightning strike causes him to lose sight of a small detail of military etiquette called the chain of command. The notion of blurring the line between organic and artificial intelligence has long been a favorite subject of science fiction writers, largely because it touches on a thematic area that science fiction handles especially well: the question of what it means to be human. One of the best ways to illustrate the nature of humanity, after all, is through contrast. But it is only in science fiction that you can have a sentient character who is nevertheless not human in order to provide that contrast.

Artificial intelligence serves this purpose admirably. "Stealth." is certainly not the first film to explore this territory, nor, for that matter, was "2001." For some earlier examples of films in which artificial intelligence encroaches on the border between man and machine a little too closely for comfort, look for these titles on home video.

"Metropolis" (1926). Fritz Lang's seminal science fiction masterpiece includes one of the screen's earliest portrayals of humanoid non-organic intelligence. When the master of the vast underground city of Metropolis learns that a young woman named Maria is quietly teaching his workers that their lives have worth, he foresees danger. Eliminating Maria would only make the problem worse, so instead he commissions a mad scientist to replace her with an android replica. The phony Maria's assignment is to stir the workers up into an angry mob. The idea is that people motivated by unreasoning anger are, in the long run, easier to manipulate than people who are motivated by an understanding of their own human dignity. The android, however, proves to be so adept at her assignment that the city is nearly destroyed by the violence of the workers' uprising.

"Demon Seed" (1977). Based on a novel by Dean Koontz, this underrated picture tells the story of a supercomputer called Proteus IV, the brainchild of research scientist Alex Harris (Fritz Weaver). When Proteus suddenly develops the capacity for independent thought, it decides that its fondest wish, like some perverse Pinocchio, is to acquire organic life. It begins by gaining control over the system that runs Alex's gadget-filled household. This allows it total control over doorways, lights, and appliances, including a mobile chair with an electromechanical arm. Then it uses that control to imprison Alex's wife, Susan (Julie Christie). Its plan is to use Susan's womb to incubate synthetic genetic material that it has fabricated in Alex's basement laboratory. The story line is very cleverly worked out, and is neither as silly nor as sensationalistic as it sounds.


"The Electric Grandmother" (1981). A far more sanguine consideration of the possibilities inherent in artificial intelligence comes from the pen of Ray Bradbury. Based on Bradbury's short story, "I Sing the Body Electric," this hour-long television adaptation features Maureen Stapleton as an android nanny purchased by a widower to provide a maternal presence in the lives of his children. The technological Mary Poppins wins over two of the children immediately, but the third is reluctant to risk an emotional commitment. Gradually, however, she comes to understand that this magical grandmother will never abandon her through death as her mother had. Another television version of the story, under its original title, may be found on the recently released "Twilight Zone: The Definitive Edition, Season 3" DVD set. Bradbury himself had a hand in both adaptations.

I was going to let it go at that, but apparently my computer has other ideas. So, whether I like it or not, next week we'll consider some additional examples of films about artificial intelligence and the meaning of humanity.

Nothing But Net (originally published 1/05)

In many ways, the game of basketball seems ideally suited as a backdrop for a movie. Given the fast moving and visually stimulating nature of the game, you might assume that it would have proven irresistible to filmmakers down through the years, but it isn't so. In fact, the upcoming release of "Coach Carter" is a bit of a rarity. The history of the cinema includes baseball movies as far as the eye can see, but relatively few basketball films. And of those few, fewer still are available on video. Does that mean that you roundball fans are stuck with old game tapes until "Coach Carter" makes its way to home video? Not on your high tops. Here are some titles you can look for at the corner video store right now.

"Tall Story" (1960). Anthony Perkins plays a college basketball star who is amorously pursued by a co-ed (Jane Fonda, in her movie debut). The young athlete is pressured by gamblers to help throw a game against a visiting Russian team. Meanwhile, the distraction created by Fonda's character, however pleasant, has interfered with his studies. To maintain his eligibility he must pass an ethics exam. (Get it? He's trying to pass an ethics test while he's deciding whether to throw a game.)

"One on One" (1977). Robby Benson co-wrote and starred in this Rocky-esque film, dramatizing the unsavory practices that have too often tainted the reputation of collegiate basketball. His story of a naïve high school basketball star who gets recruited by a high-powered college team deals openly with the sleazy underside of college athletics. Ultimately, the film pulls most of its punches, but, even so, it was potent enough to cause USC and UCLA (Hollywood's hometown campuses) to refuse to cooperate in the filming.

"Angels With Dirty Faces" (1938). This one isn't really a basketball movie, but the classic Jimmy Cagney - Pat O'Brien vehicle belongs here just the same. The plot centers around old pals Rocky Sullivan (Cagney) and Jerry Connelly (O'Brien), who were kids together on the wrong side of the tracks. Rocky grows up to be a hood while Jerry grows up to be a priest. When Rocky blows into town after serving a jail term, the neighborhood kids are mightily impressed with him. Jerry is glad to see his old friend, but leery of his potentially bad influence on the street-wise kids Jerry has been struggling to win over. Later in the film, of course, there will be conflict along those lines, but initially Rocky chooses to help Jerry with the kids. The scene in which Rocky referees a basketball game for Jerry is a classic. The street roughnecks know nothing about the rules, and wouldn't care if they did. They think nothing of shoving, tripping, and even punching the opposing players. Rocky responds with some street-style officiating. Shoving another player elicits a punch in the breadbasket from the ref, while a right cross to the opponent's jaw is rewarded with an uppercut instead of a whistle.

"The Absent-Minded Professor" (1961). This Disney comedy features Fred MacMurray as the title character, Ned Brainard. Professor Brainard has discovered a rubberlike substance with a remarkable property. When you drop it and let it bounce, it actually rebounds higher with each bounce, gaining energy instead of losing it. He calls the stuff "flying rubber," which he shortens to "flubber." He uses his college's losing basketball team to test the usefulness of flubber by applying it to the soles of the players' shoes. The result is an absolutely spectacular basketball sequence, with players springing 20 and 30 feet in the air.

"Cornbread, Earl, and Me" (1975). Right in the midst of a spate of black exploitation films came this quiet, humane little film about a young African-American man whose talent for basketball is about to take him out of the ghetto and on to college. Two weeks before he leaves for school, two policemen gun him down, mistaking him for a fleeing suspect. In his film debut, 12 year old Laurence Fishburne is outstanding as the slain youth's admiring younger friend.

There are other hoop movies that I'd love to point you toward, including two Harlem Globetrotter films, but they aren't available on home video. Instead we have "Scooby-Doo Meets the Harlem Globetrotters" -- a clear technical foul, but what can you do?

Off the Beaten Yuletide Path, Part 2 (originally published 12/91)

Where were we? Programming a little living room film festival of Christmas movies, as I recall. Here’s the second half of my list.

“Mister Magoo’s Christmas Carol” (1962). Wait, come back. I’m not kidding. You can’t do a Christmas film festival without including Scrooge but, if you recall, I began with the premise that I wanted to pick titles that were not the most obvious ones. If you’ve seen the Alastair Sim version of “A Christmas Carol” so often that you can anticipate every scowl, give old Magoo a try. The first-rate songs by Bob Merrill and Julie Styne would absolutely play on Broadway. The gags based on nearsightedness that formed the basis for the Mr. Magoo cartoon series are here put aside (apart from one or two sly references) and what we are given is an amusing and touching twist on the old Christmas chestnut. The order of the visits of the three spirits is inexplicably changed, but in most respects the original Dickens text is treated with appropriate deference. If you don’t know this version, give it a try. You won’t be mad at me.

“The Lion in Winter” (1968). This one is for those who like thorns in their mistletoe. If you get impatient with impossibly sweet Christmas stories featuring impossibly happy and well-adjusted families, try spending Christmas with one of history’s great dysfunctional families. Peter O’Toole is Henry II and Katharine Hepburn is Eleanor of Aquitaine. It’s Christmas, and King Henry has temporarily sprung Eleanor from captivity for the occasion. Her three sons, Richard, John, and Geoffrey, are also in attendance, each one keenly aware that Henry is pondering who his successor should be. When the sparks start to fly, stand back.

“Three Godfathers” (1948). What’s this? A John Ford Western? On a Christmas films list? You bet your boots, buckaroo. John Wayne, Pedro Armendariz, and Harry Carey, Jr. portray three outlaws who happen across an apparently abandoned covered wagon in the desert. Inside they find a pregnant woman in labor, her husband having perished in the desert while searching for water. Knowing that she too is dying, the mother asks the three men to care for her baby. Reading in the mother’s Bible about Joseph and Mary taking baby Jesus to Jerusalem, they decide to take their young charge to a town called New Jerusalem. As they progress on their journey, the three outlaws become, if not wise men, at least wiser than they were. Each in turn sacrifices himself for the child. It is a Christmas movie if ever there was one, and will leave you with that warm Christmas glow just as surely as any film that drips with sleigh bells and mistletoe.

“The Lemon Drop Kid” (1951). This Bob Hope classic is not primarily a Christmas movie, but is fun to watch at Christmas time because of one priceless sequence. In this adaptation of a Damon Runyan story, Hope is a racetrack tout who is into a gangster for a pile of money. Taking advantage of the season, he and his associates dress up as street corner Santas trying to collect the needed funds from holiday-spirited passersby.

“Twilight Zone: Night of the Meek” (1960). In this classic episode from the original “Twilight Zone” TV series, Art Carney plays a department store Santa who is fired on Christmas Eve for showing up for work drunk. While wandering the streets with his Santa suit still on, he happens upon a sack that does something wonderful. No matter what a person asks him for, Carney finds that he can reach into his magical sack and produce it.

And, although I’ve avoided discussing them here for fear of belaboring the obvious, don’t forget the old Christmas favorites like “Miracle on 34th Street” and “It’s a Wonderful Life.” They didn’t get to be so familiar by accident. Happy viewing to all, and to all a good night.

Off the Beaten Yuletide Path, Part 1 (originally published 12/91)

There’s no better time than Christmas for raiding the corner video store to put together a living room film festival. We all have old favorites, of course, that we return to year after year. There’s nothing wrong with that, to be sure. Christmas is, after all, a time for tradition. Still, you may find yourself from time to time looking to broaden just a bit your Christmas movie palette.

Allow me, then, to suggest some Christmas titles that you may have forgotten about, or that you may never have thought of as Christmas films. That means that I will be deliberately ignoring some of the very best such movies on the grounds that they are too familiar. You certainly don’t need me to help you discover the wonderfulness of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” right? Okay then, you bring the eggnog, and I’ll bring these films.

“The Bishop’s Wife” (1947). Cary Grant stars as an angel sent in answer to the prayers of a bishop played by David Niven. Sounds a bit like that Frank Capra film we agreed not to mention, but this angel is no Clarence Oddbody. This angel is, well, Cary Grant. The plot thickens as the angel realizes that he is falling in love with the title character (Loretta Young). This charming film includes one of the most memorable performances of the great character actor James Gleason in the role of a cab driver.

“Beyond Tomorrow” (1940). Three well-to-do but lonely old gentlemen befriend a couple of poor but honest youngsters on Christmas. It ends up as a ghost story, but the heartwarming sort, not the scary sort. (In other words, think Dickens, not M.R. James.) If you don’t know the names C. Aubrey Smith, Harry Carey, and Charles Winninger, run, don’t walk, to the video store and meet them in this sweet little film. They were three of the finest old pros in the business.

“Holiday Inn” (1942). Bing Crosby opens an inn that caters specifically to holiday themes. The score is by Irving Berlin and features the premiere performance of “White Christmas.” Der Bingle made the most of having first crack at the song, putting his stamp on it so indelibly that he practically owned it from then on. The later Crosby film titled “White Christmas,” by the way, is a partial and very loose remake of this film. One word of caution: be prepared for some uncomfortable racial stereotyping in the “Abraham” number.

“Christmas in Connecticut” (1943). Barbara Stanwyck writes magazine articles about how to be the perfect homemaker; the Martha Stewart of her day. Her boss (Sydney Greenstreet) decides that she should play hostess to him and to a war hero (Dennis Morgan) in her perfect home over the holidays as a publicity gimmick. The problem? She only knows how to write about homemaking. In her own home she can’t boil water. Her attempts to carry off the charade make for a delicious screwball comedy.

“The Homecoming” (1971). This is not the Harold Pinter play, but rather the made-for-TV movie that inspired the “Waltons” TV series. It’s a Christmas Eve during the Great Depression and Pa Walton is supposed to come home from the job he was lucky enough to find many miles away from home. Spirits are high in anticipation of his return, but as it gets later and later worry sets in. A news bulletin on the radio tells of a bus wreck on snowy roads. Was it his? The main character is the family’s oldest son, who has to do a lot of growing up in a short time when he is charged with going out to search for his father. The cast is slightly, but significantly, different from that of the series. Radio comedian Edgar Bergen (Candice’s dad), in a rare dramatic role, plays the grandfather and Patricia Neal plays the mother. The series was fine, but this introduction of the family that couldn’t get through a holiday without a crisis is something extra special.

What’s that? You’re tired already? After a mere 8 hours and 34 minutes of film viewing? Okay then. Switch off the Christmas tree lights and get some rest. When you come back, I’ll have another batch of Christmas movies ready for you.