The Greatest Show on Earth (1952): Shira's Take

About an hour and a half in, I thought, 'Okay, they just need to wrap up the love triangle, leaving Holly (played, annoyingly enough, by Betty Hutton) to fall into the arms of Brad (an especially gritty Charlton Heston), and tell the viewer what the hell happened to make the charming clown Buttons (James Stewart, whose performance was as good as usual, especially considering that he never took off his whiteface) murder his wife.'

Then, Eitan pointed out to me that the movie had over an hour left. Pooh.

The costumes are absolutely beautiful (Edith Head can do no wrong), and the actual circus acts are really fantastic. The plot is not great, but it is definitely good enough to be worth all the amazing visuals. That is, until the cocky Sebastian (Cornel Wilde) falls and disfigures his hand. As if that isn't unpleasant enough, Angel's (Gloria Grahame) rejected lover Klaus (Lyle Bettger) threatens her with an elephant's foot over her head and later attempts train robbery only to crash and derail the train. If they had cut out about an hour of plot, it could have been a pleasant enough movie, but instead it just went on and on...

Now, why did they choose not to tell the viewer why Buttons killed his wife? If you're going to create a far-fetched plot line like a man who murders his wife who he loves, at the very least justify it by giving us some far-fetched motive. Why was Mr. Henderson (Lawrence Tierney) written off at the end as just a silly rival when his attempted train robbery would, even if Klaus had not been involved, still probably have ended in a horrible disaster? I had a lot of problems with plot, but the movie in general was worth watching for its all-around visual beauty, so it gets a 7/10

The Greatest Show on Earth (1952): Eitan's Take

If you like movies to be big extravaganzas -- explosive, with death-defying stunts and flashy colors and dogs dressed up in elephant suits and train crashes and trapeze leaps -- then this is actually a pretty spectacular movie. Cecil B. DeMille was certainly the Michael Bay of his time, and if you can't slow down your cynicism enough to get wrapped up in a Big Motion Picture Event every once in a while, then all hope is lost. Sure, it beat out much more deserving films, like The Quiet Man and the immortal High Noon, but the Academy is known to lose its way every once in a while, and while Greatest Show is clearly not a fine piece of art, it's an authentically rousing and exciting cinematic experience, working the same way the real circus does: by making visceral appeals and bluntly activating fear, morbid fascination, and humor in its viewers. So while most people will give it a bum rap -- the same way they give How Green Was My Valley a bum rap now for beating out Citizen Kane -- I decided to give it a chance, and was surprised to find myself more than just a little wrapped up.

The love triangle between trapeze artists Sebastian and Holly and circus director Brad (the iconic Charlton Heston) was a bit contrived, and a lot of the banter between the circus performers in general felt bloated and unnecessary, but when DeMille puts on a show, he really Puts On A Show. Long, outlandish segments showing every aspect of the Ringling Brothers & Barnum and Bailey Circus are delightful and often enthralling. As with the similarly over-the-top Great Ziegfeld, many complex stunt sequences (most of them involving elephants and trapezes) left me wondering, "How the hell did they do that?" Side plots involving a gang of thieves, a 10-year old murder mystery, as well as artfully composed shots of awed audience members watching the circus gave the film a depth I wasn't expecting. Certainly, DeMille fetishizes the heart-stopping spectacle of the circus, but he also sheds a cynical light on the ego, recklessness, and utter greed that drive the ridiculous circus industry in the first place.

This movie takes us back to a time before the WWF and CGI popcorn epics and monster truck rallies, when entertainment was more "wholesome" but no less dramatic or riveting. So, visually, it's a major success that rivals any of DeMille's other gigantic blockbusters (Ten Commandments, Cleopatra, etc.). But somehow, in the midst of the explosive big budget flair, DeMille actually succeeds -- and many people will mock me for thinking this -- in giving us meaningful characters whose sad, tormented fates we actually begin to care about. While the film is inarguably too long for its own good, every storyline comes to a natural conclusion, and we're spared no heartbreak as one of our favorite characters is led off to prison, one hobbles around with a newly-crippled arm, one weak from an emergency blood transfusion, and the whole circus torn to shreds by the deeds of two truly bad guys.

This movie's win most closely mirrors Titanic's grand year. Faced with some cerebral masterpieces (High Noon, L.A. Confidential, The Quiet Man, and Good Will Hunting), the Academy fell head over heels for an elaborate circus of a movie. It may just be my good mood, but I'm giving this one a truly unexpected 7/10. I'll regret that later, but for now, it feels right.

You Can't Take it With You (1938): Eitan's Take

You gotta hand it to a film that ends with a rousing hoedown of "Polly Wolly Doodle" on two harmonicas and a xylophone... no one does it quite like Capra. The great sentimentalist director was known for his iconic scenes of suburban whimsy -- the title of his late movie "Pocketful of Miracles" pretty much sums up his approach to filmmaking -- and "You Can't Take it With You" is no different. However, I was surprised and pleased by the subtlety of these scenes. I still knew exactly what they were, and I could still sense the hand of Capra moving these scenes along (such as when reliably aw-shucks Jimmy Stewart and Jean Arthur learn how to dance the Big Apple and when old Grandpa Vanderhof's countless friends unite in a courtroom near the end of the film to pay a $100 fine he receives for the illegal manufacturing of fireworks), but they were strangely charming and uplifting, rather than being cloying and pseudo-religious. Regardless, people who hate Capra will still hate this film, but I think it has some unique elements that relieve it from possibly pandering and being obnoxiously over the top.

Lionel Barrymore was one of the best parts of Grand Hotel, and he is absolutely wonderful here as Vanderhof, the patriarch of a predictably wacky family, populated by goofy black maids, Russian wrestlers/ballet teachers, typesetters for the coming Communist revolution, and a frustratingly bland younger daughter. Seriously, how in the world did mopey, boring Alice Sycamore end up in such a nutty family? Regardless, Barrymore's performance is one of the most captivating I have ever seen in a Capra film, and every scene he is in is truly joyous. When he tells the stuffy, fat, Baldwin-esque Anthony P. Kirby that no one can "take it with him," I felt in awe of both the important lesson at hand (see, there's Capra, yanking at my heartstrings again) and the naturalistic eloquence with which Barrymore delivered the line.

Magic, whimsy, and solid screenwriting aside, I'm actually quite surprised that this movie won Best Picture. It doesn't appear that 1938 was a particularly strong year for movies -- it was definitely the calm before the storm of 1939, still considered the greatest year in cinema history -- but You Can't Take it With You doesn't seem to fit the arc of winners so far. It isn't epic, important, beautifully shot, or all that consequential in the scheme of things. It's just a character-driven story, well acted, nicely developed and modestly fleshed out from a nice little stage play (which we did at my school in 9th grade, when I was really into technical theater) with a neat little "everyone learned their lesson" ending. As movies go, it's watchable, charming, and fun. As Best Picture winners go, it's not exactly a natural part of the club. 8/10.

You Can't Take It With You (1938): Shira's Take

This is our second Frank Capra movie (after It Happened One Night), and it just doesn't compare. Don't get me wrong. I love the Capra/Jimmy Stewart team (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and It's a Wonderful Life are both amazing). But I just can't care too much about the characters. Firstly, the chemistry between Stewart (Anthony Kirby Jr.) and Jean Arthur (Alice Sycamore) was really sub-par. Aside from an adorable scene in which they are taught how to do the big apple by a bunch of kids and end up running from the cops, Tony and Alice are really a boring couple. Lionel Barrymore as Grandpa really carried the movie (as he did with earlier best picture winner Grand Hotel). I believe also that this story makes for a much better stage play than movie. I think eccentric characters feel less overdone in stage plays.

Despite everything I said above, I clearly still enjoyed the movie. It was VERY Capra; there was a scene in a court room filled with Grandpa's neighborhood friends all sticking up for him that ended in chaos as news reporters flooded in trying to get pictures. Meanwhile, Alice rebuked Tony's family and ran out, and the mass of people somehow cleared enough for her to get through, but not enough for anyone to follow her. You gotta love these charming classics. I also sort of like the message. Clearly, the Sycamore/Vanderhof family is completely insane, but I admire their dismissal of the opinions of others. In general, it could have been better, but it still had most of what I like in a movie. Note to myself: Two words: kitten paperweight. 7/10