When Frank met Barbara IV: The Bitter Tea of General Yen (1933)

The final film in this series is, to me, the most interesting and arguably the best. In contemporary China, the fiancée of a missionary finds herself the houseguest of General Yen, a ruthless warlord who is in love with her. Despite herself (and more on this in a moment) she finds she is falling for him. As I mentioned here, this is a film that could not have been made two years later. A mixed race relationship, where one of the elements is a “decent white girl” was far more than the conservative audiences of the 1930s were willing to allow – and it became explicitly forbidden.

Capra directed the film with Oscar success in mind and to ensure recognition of quality by his peers. But it shouldn't have taken him much to realise that the film would not be a hit at the box-office. Despite appearances, the film is (for 1933) on General Yen’s side and quite unsympathetic of white people (Walter Connolly’s Jones, the general’s “financial adviser” comes as particularly unpleasant). The missionaries are presented as prejudiced creatures (not exactly very christian), unwilling to see China beyond their own preconceived ideas. Their lack of interest in the country is openly criticised by Yen, who despite being ruthless, is also a sophisticated character and a lover of fine things. In a sense, he is not quite a Bond villain in the making, like Fu Manchu – While we aren’t given any historical background to the civil unrest (probably audiences would be mildly aware) I strongly suspect that he is not just fighting for power and money; he is also fighting for his own survival - as indeed the film hints at. By the end, our sympathies lay with the character we are told from the start is the enemy.

Of course, not all is perfect – although most of the Chinese characters and extras are played by people of far eastern ancestry, the main part itself is played by Nils Ashter, a Swede. Interestingly, his overpowering presence works in favour of the character and probably made the film acceptable at the time of release (after all, under all the make-up there was a white actor).

Stanwyck’s character, a young American girl called Megan (pronounced Mee-gan, which I found quite strange) starts not terribly far from Alden Pyne in Graham Greene’s “The Quiet American” – dangerously idealist. Of course, she does not have his resources and, unlike him, she gives in. From the moment she sees General Yen, she’s fascinated, but feels rejected (metaphorically quite well represented by a handkerchief). Then despite herself she finds herself more and more attracted to him – although this time she’s the one rejecting his advances – and his handkerchief. In what is the best sequence in the film (and quite explicit too), in her dreams she admits the truth: as she is about to be raped by a Fu Manchu type when at last moment she is saved by a masked hero – however, when he takes off her mask, it’s not her fiancé…

In the end, we are treated to a speculative speech by Walter Connolly – and in Stawyck’s face (she doesn’t say a word, nor does she really need to) we know that his words are really the epilogue. It’s not Capra’s best film, it might not even be one of his most touching – but it is one that is worth looking beyond 1933 and 2010 prejudices.

When Frank met Barbara III: Forbidden (1932)

When I saw “Forbidden” for the first time, I think in the London Film Festival a few years ago, I wasn’t particularly impressed. When I saw it there again, it was second time lucky. And probably would have like it better if I hadn’t spent half of the screening trying to remember which film it remind me of – in the end I realise it was Edmund Goulding’s “The Trespasser” (1929) with Gloria Swanson which he remade in 1937 with Bette Davis as “That Certain Woman”, two examples of heavy handed melodramas. Goulding would do much better for instance in “The Old Maid” or that supreme soap-opera that is “The Great Lie”. Capra’s straight storytelling skills and lack of tendency for melodrama actually suited the script well – it tones it down, creating some pathos to the characters that otherwise would have just been sinking in excess.

These same characters, while well handled, that are also the strangest element of the film. This is the story of a librarian (Stanwyck, of course) who spends her savings on a holiday cruise to Havana. On the boat she meets and falls in love with a man (Adolph Menjou), and they start a life long affair – you see, he’s married to an “invalid” (i.e. she wears a cane…) and worst, he has political ambitions. While I have no problem empathising with characters who repress themselves out of duty (e.g. “Brief Encounter”) there is something not quite right with the leading character’s obsessive love with Menjou’s. For him, she gives up everything despite the fact he does not give her anything in return and won’t let her go (she tries a few times). In fact, he goes further, taking things from her. In part this feels like 19th Century romanticism taken to extremes, but really is more like an essay on the effects of a sudden release of sexual and emotional repression exploding in the hands the first person who releases it.

More appealing is Ralph Bellamy’s workaholic news editor with a crush on Stanwyck. His is an ambiguous character that has a personal vendetta for Menjou’s which you aren’t entirely on what is really based on (for all intents Menjou is not a corrupt politician and Stanwyck is his only skeleton in the closet).

Capra’s work throughout is almost unnoticeable, thus showing off his skills to keep the pace and retain our attention, focusing on the key moments of the relationship. It’s the script that ends up being the most unsympathetic to its own characters. After torturing Stanwyck for 80 odd minutes, the film ends in the harshest of ways. I assume the idea was not to leave a dry eye in the house, but it’s too bleak for that – you just end engulfed in the black hole that her character’s emotions have become.

When Frank met Barbara II: The Miracle Woman (1931)

After “Ladies of Leisure”, the next Capra/Stanwyck was “The Miracle Woman”, the story of a minister’s daughter who, after her father’s death, becomes an evangelic preacher. With the help of a crook, she swindles her followers until she meets a blind veteran (David Manners) whose life she had unknowingly saved.

Clearly an attack on hypocritical evangelic preachers to whom money is the only religion, the film hasn’t had a very successful story. It’s easy to see why it was a flop at the time of release – for 1931 this is quite an attack on the moral hypocrisy, not only of those preaching, but also those seating in the benches (the opening sequence is quite a good example). However, modern audiences probably agree with me that the film doesn’t go far enough. Capra and the script probably toned down the original material as Stanwyck’s character is actually a profoundly religious person, with a deep faith, only going astray through a general disappointment with Mankind – in the end, she resumes the path of virtue and through fire, all is purified.

The film is also hampered by a weak ending that is in effect a huge ellipse: it’s too clean, avoiding any real answers – I mean, how did they all get out of that mess? Did the police never bothered to investigate anything?

On the plus side, despite some excesses in the opening sequence (and I think it may have been this, and not “Forgiven” I mentioned here) the performances are excellent, especially David Manners’. He’s extremely good as an unsentimentalised blind man: self-sufficient, resourceful and definitely not wallowing in self-pity. His suicidal tendencies are more the frustration of not being able to succeed at something (we are clearly told that money is not a problem). I am not sure what to think of the dummy though. The other highlight is Beryl Mercer, as the motherly landlady.

Overall, of all the four films, this is the one who disappointed me the most. It had enough to be an absolute classic, but instead, Capra’s lack of conviction on his attack deliver us a disappointment with some good moments and performances.

When Frank met Barbara I: Ladies of Leisure (1930)

Once upon a time a young, fast rising director met a young actress from Brooklyn with only the smallest number of films under her belt. Four years, four films and a failed love affair later, they were both established names – Frank Capra and Barbara Stanwyck. The films were: “Ladies of Leisure” (1930), “The Miracle Woman” (1931), “Forbidden” (1932) and “The Bitter Tea of General Yen” (1933). A few years later, in the early 1940s they would collaborate for the final time, in “Meet John Doe”.

The current Frank Capra retrospective at the BFI has given the chance to watch these four films (I am excluding “Meet John Doe”) in a short period of time. I had seen all but “Ladies of Leisure” and own the UK R2 DVDs of both “The Miracle Woman” and “The Bitter Tea of General Yen”. I went through these with a fairly open mind and found myself re-evaluating them for the better (I had discussed some of them here and here). My only regret was not able to see them chronologically – although that’s how I will present them here, starting with the first, “Ladies of Leisure”.

The film tells the story of the relationship between a rich boy who wants to be an artist and party girl (an euphemism for something else) he chooses to be his model for a painting personifying “Hope”. This is clearly the moment in Stanwyck’s career where you can shout “a Star is born!” – have no doubt, it’s her film (aided by the fact that the rest of the cast has largely been forgotten). And it almost didn’t happen – the actress’ first meeting with the director didn’t go very well.

A Pre-code through and through, not much is left to the imagination. Stanwyck’s occupation and that of her flatmate are more than just hinted (actually almost stated), and her character seems at ease with it, at times being quite explicit she has no issues with what she does. It’s also clear that there is some off-screen fun without the blessing of holy matrimony. Despite this, the film is less sharp around the edges than the output of Warner Bros., where Stanwyck also spent some time during the early 1930s. The focus is more on the romance between the leads and less on the bleakness of life (e.g. “Baby Face” just to stick with another Stanwyck film). Interestingly, the leading man doesn’t seem to mind very much that the object of his affections has a past, something that Columbia would explore from a different angle in “Virtue”. Furthermore, the inevitable scene between the girl and the family doesn’t follow exactly the same template of such scenes where “good” families try to get rid of what they perceive as less “good” heroines (e.g. “Shopworn”).

There are two more moments in the film that I would like to point out. Unfortunately I can’t talk about them without revealing some of the plot. So consider this your spoiler warning. The first is the sequence in the artist’s studio, when she’s forced to spend the night in the couch. At some stage we see the door open. She hears it and knows he’s coming. We see him coming closer. We know she is in love with him, and as such she would like him to be different than the others (i.e. put a little ring around her finger). For a few seconds Capra teases us and makes us wonder what is going to happen. It’s a great sequence extremely well edited and a sort of rehearsal for the final sequence. Extremely well shot and edited, the final minutes of the film have a rhythm and suspense unusual in those very first years of sound. Plus, to be honest I wasn’t entirely sure how it was going to end, which is always a plus.

It Happened One Night (1934)

When I was much younger and getting into classic films I often fell in love with the Frank Capra’s films I had a chance to see, i.e. those from the mid-1930s to the mid-1940s (roughly from “Lady for a Day” to “It’s a Wonderful Life”). As I grew older, and more cynical, I found that my taste changed, and I grew further apart from his films (I have changed my mind again on one or two). There were, however, some exceptions: “Mr Smith Goes to Washington”; “Arsenic and Old Lace” which has to be the less-Capraesque of all his films and, of course, “It Happened One Night”.

Like “Arsenic and Old Lace”, “It Happened One Night” seems to be far from his bolder social statements. Yes, there is some criticism of the upper classes, but nothing that is too distracting. Instead the focus is really in the war of the sexes love story between a spoiled heiress (Claudette Colbert) and a fast talking and recently unemployed reported (Clark Gable) while travelling from Miami to New York.

While this indeed one of the great romantic comedies ever made, after watching it I was able to put it in context in a way I hadn’t before. For the past few years I became more and more familiar with silent and Pre-code films, as this blog attests. So while before my film knowledge really started at around 1934, now it goes much further back. And this allowed me to see the film in an altogether different light.

Suddenly I fully understand why this is a cornerstone film. Perhaps its key achievement is how subtly different in construction is from its contemporary comedies. Unlike many other comedies from the early 1930s, for instance, the WB comedies with the likes of Joan Blondell or James Cagney or Lubitsch’s films at Paramount, this is a milder affair – both sexually and verbally. Yes, there are clear innuendos and dialogue flies, but comparing that with Howard Hawks’ “Twentieth Century” (along which is credited as the first important screwball comedy) it’s tame. But this apparent loss is actually to the film’s gain. The story is told in less fragmented manner, more coherently. This approach allowed the characters to develop, instead of being one or two dimensional creatures and would be the template on how Hollywood treated comedy until the end of WWII. And yes, for the following few years, spoiled heiresses would keep falling in love with wisecracks and witty dialogue would attempt to reveal the sexual tension that could not be properly shown, thus creating what is known as “screwball comedy”.

In case you haven’t seen the film, I think I should mention that Colbert and Gable are excellent, both giving career high performances and both, like Capra, collecting Oscars – making this the first of only three films to win the five main awards: film, director, actor, actress and screenplay. Gable’s performance is probably the most relaxed I have ever seen him on screen. Oh yes, and that end scene that brought the house down with laughter...

American Madness (1932)

Frank Capra’s “American Madness” is one of the lesser known films of the director, lost among titles like “It Happened One Night”, “Mr Smith Goes to Washington” or “It’s a Wonderful Life”. It is, I think, the first of his socially conscious films that still make his reputation. Having now seen all his feature films released between 1931 (after “Forbidden”) and 1948 (“State of the Union”) (*), the period he was at the height of his powers, I also think it’s one of his best.

For 1932 audiences, the film, which tackles the depression and money rushes head on, must have felt too close to home. It is set in a bank ran by a man who strongly believes character is the biggest security any one can offer for a loan. In the aftermath of a robbery, a rumour starts to spread that the bank is insolvent and there’s a money rush.

Personally I find Capra’s politics a bit too utopian and the cynical in me gets frustrated with them. I don’t know enough of economics to argue against the romantic ideas he defends here, nor will I try. But in his best work, or if you prefer, those films of his that I enjoy the most, he has some of the best sense of drama ever presented on screen. The climaxes of “Mr Smith…” and “It’s a Wonderful Life” are probably the best examples.

Walter Huston is great as the bank president, showing once more why he is considered one of the great American film actors. He has his Capra moment at the beginning when he delivers his speech about the depression, but he shines through in the scenes towards the end, during the money rush. The surprise however, comes from Pat O’Brien. I don’t like him very much but here I think he gives the performance of his career.

Edwin Maxwell as one of Huston’s antagonists in the board of directors is a proto-character of what Edward Arnold would come to symbolise in Capra’s films. Funnily enough his own screen persona seems to have been taken by Arnold later on.

(*) – Although “Broadway Bill” and “Lost Horizon” are very faded memories.