The Films of 1949 (part one)

During this past summer I got on a kick of throwing random old movies (mostly American films from the 1940s and 1950s) into my Netflix pile. I stumbled upon an Anthony Mann film called Border Incident (shot by the incomparable John Alton), and I dug it. I was impressed by the hard edge of the story of the underbelly of the people-smuggling trade along the California-Mexico border. The film didn't shy away from ruthless characters, violence or social commentary. It had that sharp black and white I love (even in the exterior shots) and Alton's telltale contrasting light and dark visual composition. A fine film, nothing superlative but a top notch B movie, a melodrama with elements of crime thriller. But I was knocked out by Howard de Silva as the bad guy. His command was superb, lightening the character's ruthlessness with an easy-going charm and good humor, and I wandered if that was perhaps the finest performance of 1949. So I've since been on a kick of watching films from 1949 to measure it all up.

Well, right off the bat, it was not the single finest performance. That hosanna belongs solely to Broderick Crawford in All the King's Men. I've long thought that Crawford's performance is probably the finest ever in the history of film! What he does is singularly unique to his skills (he never gave another performance nearly as fine), it fits the part of the bumpkin turned political powerhouse perfectly and he is the beating heart of this film--he alone is what makes the film worth watching. To test this thesis, compare and contrast Crawford to the great Sean Penn's lackluster turn in the lame remake from a few years back. I didn't give the remake much of a chance because frankly the original was driven by fine performances and was otherwise a fairly overrated film, so I had no high hopes for another attempt at it. I've heard nothing but good things about the original novel and I can imagine it being a novel too good for a film adaptation.

It is worth noting that All the King's Men won Best Picture, Best Actor (Crawford) and Best Supporting Actress (Mercedes McCambridge) but it did not win Best Director or Best Screenplay (both of which went to Joseph L. Manckiewicz for A Letter to Three Wives). Why is this worth noting? Because Best Picture is often the film that was the most popular or made more money than anyone would've thought possible or the film that captured the temporal zeitgeist, and is usually not the best picture or the one that will age well. When a film is really a badass accomplishment then it takes the other prizes as well. In this case, the power of the performances drove it to a popularity that the film itself did not merit. A Letter to Three Wives was a much better film, for example, which is why it took the 'artistry' prizes even if it didn't take the top award. (Don't fret for Manckiewicz: he came back the next year and won Director and Screenplay again and took Best Picture all for All About Eve, one of those rare Best Picture winners that really was the best picture!) And actually how The Heiress didn't win Best Picture that year, anyway, I don't understand.

More to come…