2 hrs
& 10 min, b&w, 1946
Bedford Falls! No fictional small town in the heart of
America has ever gained the reputation among English-speaking movie-goers or
inspired their lasting affection as has this mythical community. It is the place in our imaginations that
serves as the setting for a very special fantasy folk tale entitled “It’s a
Wonderful Life,” created by writer/director Frank Capra. A three time Oscar winner, his was a well
heralded name in cinema during the 1930s and 1940s, a teller of moral stories
that contained no grit or grubbiness or gross violence (or even the hint of it)
but lived up to the highest dramatic and comedic standards. In censorious terms “Wonderful Life” would be
considered spanking G-rated clean. Bad
tempers, rowdiness, collisions between strong personalities, a tug of war
between serene happiness and desperate fear and sorrow are as close as it ever
gets to outright pain and raw shock for the viewers. In a word, all of it is satisfying.
This is one of those motion
pictures that has taken a very long time finding its audience, a few
generations, in this case. I have never
heard a convincing explanation for why this family friendly, brilliantly
mounted, dynamic, funny, passionate, blushingly romantic, exciting struggle
between courage and defeat, gain and loss, loveable and life-size portraits of
basic good and monstrous evil was a box office bust when it was first released
the year after World War II ended. It
would appear to be the quintessential postwar tale, celebrating the “good life”
that millions had just given their lives to preserve. James Stewart (a veteran of that war and this
his first picture after returning home) gives what he considered his best
performance as the small town favorite son who tries over the space of almost
twenty years to get himself out of what he regards as a shabby and “broken
down” whistle stop. He wants to see the big world but is thwarted at every turn
because of his stubborn sense of decency and commitment to the down and
out. Stewart thought it his best work
and each time I see it I find it a little harder and a little harder still to
disagree with him. To me he is a cosmic
gift that never fades from our memories, as firm in place as the
firmament. There will never be another
like him, I daresay.
The name of the man he plays
is George Bailey, about to leave for college when his father, the compassionate
owner of a building and loan company risking his own small fortune to give
Depression victims a fair break, has a fatal stroke and George has to stay
behind to keep the company afloat and protect it from a miserly, greedy ogre
named Potter (Lionel Barrymore) who is seeking to lay his hands on it and
foreclose on the poor debtors. Another
factor that keeps him in town is his love for a gentle and attractive young
woman named Mary (Donna Reed), whom he marries and by whom he has a brood of
four children. The tale winds its way
through the 1930s and throughout the war, Bailey still a fixture in the
town.
I feel compelled to take a
little space here to comment on Barrymore.
What a life force to contend with he proves to be on that screen. Of course we would expect nothing less from a
Barrymore. I doubt seriously if Capra
ever had anyone else in mind to play Potter.
Who else could have done full justice to him? Though a wheelchair victim himself off
camera, Barrymore never seemed to have trouble getting himself cast in many
solid and rewarding roles throughout his career without ever having to compete
with ambulatory actors. With a broad
chest and a giant rolling thunderclap of a voice he strikes a little fear in me
just by opening his mouth and rattling the rafters. The wheelchair becomes a throne of ill
will. Where did he or the likeness of
him ever go?
Meanwhile, back to
George! Comes the war’s end, and he is
driven almost to suicide by a stroke of terrible financial misfortune. Did I say suicide? Yes, I did!
Clean cut George, of all people!
But then another character comes into the picture, a man named Clarence
(Henry Travers). Oops, did I say
man? Not quite, though he once was. Clarence is an angel sent in answer to prayer
to save George from himself. He is not
your conventional one robed in white splendor uttering elegant truisms and casting
an irresistible spell. He does not even
have wings, though he has been waiting for them for almost a century. He has been told, however, that if he brings
off this life-saving miracle he will earn his wings. He is small of stature, speaks in such a
colloquial twang that he could easily be mistaken for somebody’s grandfather
right off the farm. He does not even
look sure of himself. It takes a while
before even he gets his confidence up. How does he save George? By a hocus pocus transformation? No! By
singing him songs? No! By preaching to him? No! By
threat or intimidation? No! By force?
No! But he does pull a kind of
cosmic trick out of his hat, apparently one never before used, one he is not
even sure will work. For the benefit of
those who have not seen the film, I will not disclose details, except to say it
involves helping George understand what exactly his life has meant to
others. This last half hour of the film
is in my estimation the best part. All
of it is pure gold – suspenseful, gripping, deeply touching and funny, as
George puts up a titanic fight trying to resist Clarence’s help, not even
believing he is who he says he is.
Yes,
it may be something of a fairy tale, but one that speaks metaphorically to real
human beings and their major lifelong struggles, as fairy tales were originally
meant to do. It is a warm and wonderful
narrative, told with a well-sustained sense of humor from start to finish – a
mixture of the lightest and the darkest within all of us. Capra was a master at directing crowd scenes
and giving intricate structure to every phase of his storyline. He gets top grade work out of everyone in the
huge cast, including Thomas Mitchell (another movie icon from that period) as a
coworker of George’s, who is party to the money crisis.
Not exactly the kind of movie
that gets made anymore but one that has transcended its time to lay siege to
our hearts. Chances are you will see it
advertised for TV showing sometime in the coming month. It has become a Christmas holiday favorite,
not the least because the closing sequences take place at Christmas time, when
everybody is in a tenderhearted mood – everyone, that is, except George Bailey
who stares into the bottomless abyss.
Yes, love wins the day, and every time I see this movie (one of my 100
favorites) I always swear that this time I am not going to cry. But I always do. Have a boo-hoo yourselves and have a Merry
Christmas.
The disc is widely available
for rental.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com. To learn
about me consult on the website the blog entry for August 9, 2013.
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