Fifty Years of Film in 50 weeks, #10: Anna Christie, 1930

 I'm now 20% through my blog project, and entering a new decade. It's appropriate that since Greta Garbo was such a major star during this era, that I include one of her films. 

Anna Christie, 1930

Director: Clarence Brown
Writers: Frances Marion, adapted from the play by Eugene O'Neill
Cinematographer: William Daniels
Produced by Clarence Brown, Irving Thalberg, and Paul Bern for MGM 
Starring: Greta Garbo, Charles Bickford, George F. Marion, Marie Dressler

Why I chose it
This film rose to the top of my shortlist for Greta Garbo, but also for director Clarence Brown. Many years ago I was impressed with what he did with Valentino's Russian romp The Eagle, and vowed to explore more of his films. I learned of his vast impressive filmography, from the silent days to studio-era classics such as Intruder in the Dust, The Yearling, and National Velvet. 

That the film was recommended by a film friend and tied for first on my Twitter poll solidified my choice for 1930.

'No-spoiler' plot overview
After being separated from her father Chris (Marion) for most of her life, a young Swedish-American woman, Anna (Garbo), returns to seek shelter with him on the coal barge he captains. Unbeknownst to him and the young sailor she falls for (Bickford), her past is clouded with rape and prostitution. Eventually, she is forced to reveal these details to those she loves and risk their rejection.

Production Background and 1930 in Film History
In some ways, MGM was taking a risk with this film, with Garbo a silent film superstar but so many others becoming victim to the talkies because of their thick accents or other challenges adapting to the new medium. Fortuitously, the script, based on Eugene O'Neill's play, called for his protagonists to be Scandinavian-American, giving perfect screen to Garbo's accent. The film was marketed by MGM with the famous "Garbo Talks!" tagline. They had secured the services of veteran actor George F. Marion (he was born in 1860!), who had originated the role of Chris Christophersen in the Broadway run of the film as well as the 1923 film version. A version in German was also shot at the same time, starring Garbo but featuring a different supporting cast. 

Director Clarence Brown was nominated for two Oscars for films in 1930: this one, and Romance, also starring Garbo.

Some other notable film-related events in 1930*:

• The first daily newspaper for the Hollywood film industry, The Hollywood Reporter, had its debut.
• All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) was the first major anti-war film of the sound era, faithfully based upon the timeless, best-selling 1929 novel by Erich Maria Remarque. Although it won the Academy Award for Best Picture, it was criticized as being propagandistic and anti-militaristic. 
• German stage revue actress Marlene Dietrich starred in her first Josef von Sternberg film, The Blue Angel (1930), playing the role of cabaret singer Lola-Lola and performing her signature song: "Falling in Love Again (Can't Help It)." Her performance in the first major German sound film led to a contract with Paramount in the US. 
• The movie industry began to dub in the dialogue of films exported to foreign markets.

*Thanks to Filmsite.org

My Random Observations

• Garbo is not a favorite of mine; while she is usually a glamorous, elegant, and sympathetic screen presence, her acting style brings a touch too much melodrama for my tastes. Yet here, I appreciated what Garbo did with the film's early version of Anna - the fallen, lower class, rough and cynical woman. She left her glamor in her dressing room and convinced as this character. Later, she transformed to a more poised, elegant version of Anna that better matched Garbo's type.
• Not being from Ireland, I don't know if Charles Bickford's thick Irish accent was a good one, but it sure sounded like it! Bickford had a long Hollywood career and I love it when he shows up in a film. Bonus points if he gets to play a romantic lead.  Although his role here stretches the definition of romantic lead, considering his extreme roughness.
• Garbo's and Dressler's characters are seen coming into the bar using the "Ladies' entrance"--I had no idea that such a thing existed. A little internet research set me right. According to Madelon Powers in her University of Chicago Press book called Faces along the Bar: Lore And Order In The Workingman's Saloon, 1870-1920,  a 'ladies entrance' served three purposes:  “First, it permitted women to enter inconspicuously and minimize public scrutiny of their comings and goings… Second, women’s entry through the side door eliminated the necessity of their running the gauntlet through the establishment front room . . . undisputed male territory.  . . .  Finally, the side door afforded women quick and convenient access both to the far end of the bar, where they could purchase carry-out alcohol and to a second chamber known as the ‘back room,’ where they could feast on free lunches or attend social events hosted there.” Who knew?
  
• My second choice for 1930 film was Min and Bill, also a working-class drama starring Marie Dressler, who was the supporting character, Marthy, in this film. Like George Marion, Dressler was also born in the 1860s and was a theater veteran and considered today one of the greats in early cinema. It never gets old to witness performances of actors whose careers flourished over a century ago.

Screenshots

Christophersen (Marion) and his companion Marthy (Dressler)
meet up at their favorite watering hole.

Anna (Garbo) arrives at the bar and develops a bond
with Marthy, a kindred soul.

Anna's face and body language signal melancholy and
uncertainty in what she will find returning to her father.

High angle shot of the Anna's new environs.

Anna begins a life of dutiful domesticity aboard
her  father's barge.

Rugged sailor Matt Burke (Bickford) checks 
Anna out in the fog.

Anna and Matt getting to know one another.

A fun 'date' in the city.

Lovely shot of Anna with Brooklyn Bridge

Christophersen and Burke have competing
designs on Anna.

High melodrama: Anna and her father during
a moment of reckoning.

Is a happy ending possible for these three?

Where to Watch

The film can be streamed for a small fee on many streaming platforms, including Amazon, Hulu, and YouTube.

Further Reading

Danny of Pre-code.com discusses the film here, highlighting how it conforms to conventions of pre-Code cinema, and like me, admit to not being a huge Garbo fan. As usual, TCM has an excellent essay on the film here.

Revisiting Love Story (1970)

My recent experience has been that mentioning Love Story will generally 1) bring on sneers or giggles, or 2) prompt almost an involuntary uttering of the famous tagline "love means never having to say you're sorry." So with the film a fuzzy memory at best (I only saw it once decades ago as a teenager having been too young to see it on initial release), I decided to attend the 50th-anniversary screening thanks to TCM & Fathom Events. And the film was, and wasn't, as I remembered it, inspiring me to share here my spoiler-filled reasons why the film, while not a great one, isn't the schlocky, saccharine mess that its current reputation may have you believe.

As a brief refresher...the runaway 1970 hit was made from an Erich Segal screenplay that he subsequently turned into a novel to capitalize on the movie's popularity. For the film, the two New England college-student lovers from radically different economic backgrounds are portrayed by Hollywood up-and-coming actors Ali MacGraw (Jenny Cavilleri) and Ryan O'Neal (Oliver Barrett, IV). A small but critical supporting role of Oliver's father is played expertly by classic Hollywood suave leading man Ray Milland. Arthur Hiller directed for Paramount Pictures.

Ryan O'Neal and Ray Milland at the end of Love Story

It's not a bad movie--really!  Despite some script weaknesses, the film is cleverly crafted on several fronts. First, it's a study in storytelling economy with a running time just over 90 minutes: after a brief voiceover intro scene leading into the extended flashback, we are instantly at the lovers' first meeting. From there, months and years pass in leaps and bounds, with milestones in the lives of the characters being the only guide to time--meeting, finishing school, marriage, jobs, moving to a new city, etc. About two-thirds in, the critical, sad news about Jenny's terminal illness is revealed. The pace is quick but consistent and never rushed. Yet there is no unnecessary lingering for emotional effect.

Second, the visual symbolism is striking at times. I don't know the reason for nearly all the scenes being filmed in winter, but the abundant snow that required our protagonists to always be bundled up reflected their ongoing struggles with coming to terms with their relationship, their life choices, and tragedy--life can be tough and cold. The brief scenes set in summertime come as quite a shock.

Jenny and Oliver have a serious discussion in the cold
rain; snow is on the ground.

Oliver helps a weak Jenny across snow-covered Central Park
on her way to Mt. Sinai hospital.

Jenny and Oliver in a rare summer scene

The presence or absence of extras seemed significant, too. At the very end, when Oliver has left the New York hospital after Jenny's death, he wanders around in a snow-covered New York City street and Central Park setting that are completely devoid of other people - an impossibility in NYC--but the choice underscored Oliver's solitude in a world without Jenny. In the screenshots below, Oliver is a tiny image in the unmoving settings.

Third, each of the three main characters--Jenny, Oliver, and Oliver's wealthy father--are complex humans with inscrutable, or at least shifting, motives. Every viewer's reaction to each character is likely to be influenced by their age, status, gender, and life experience. Initially, Jenny's tough-girl persona ("the supreme Radcliffe smart-ass") understandably puts earnest Oliver on the defensive, but then later at times he is rigid and unyielding in their relationship. Oliver Sr. is stern and formal and wants Oliver Jr. to be cautious or at worse give Jenny up due to her lower social status; Oliver Jr's reaction to this in abruptly cutting himself and Jenny off from his parents is either appropriate or disproportionate to what is obviously a father trying to do right by his family depending on your viewpoint. Jenny is the voice of reason, trying unsuccessfully to get Oliver to ease up on his father. Roger Ebert references the characters' multidimensionality in his initial (4-star) review: "The movie is mostly about life, however, and not death. And because Hiller makes the lovers into individuals, of course we're moved by the film's conclusion. Why not?" 

Fourth, the soundtrack is really good. Because it has been so overplayed over the years, you can't blame modern audiences for souring on the theme song or other parts of the score. But it is perfectly tuned to the overall melancholy tone of the film, and has both a contemporary and classical feel appropriate for the story of a classical music student. The composer, Francis Lai, received the film's only Oscar. The main themes can be found here.

The film is a window into 1960s feminism. Viewed through a 21st-century lens, the character of Jenny is a study in quaint contrasts, perfectly reflecting the struggles of women of her era. Initially, her brass, smart-mouth persona complements her ambition as a smart young woman trying to make it in a man's world of music. She wants a career, she bucks convention, she's sexually liberated, she rejects her "old-school" Catholic upbringing for atheism. This places her squarely in the 1960s/1970s version of women's liberation. But many women of this era also were drawn powerfully back, by societal conventions, to being a traditional wife and mother, and we see this happen to Jenny as well. She gives up her career to marry Oliver and wants desperately to have his baby. She says to him when dying, "I don't care about music; I don't care about Paris." In her era, women had not fully figured out how to realize dueling ambitions of career and home--a struggle that while not completely resolved today, has shown considerable advancement.

Jenny dutifully pours coffee for Oliver after serving him breakfast

Greta Garbo and Robert Taylor in one of the many film
adaptations of Camille

It's a modern La Dame aux Camélias! Opera fans know that a number of popular operas end immediately upon the dramatic death of the consumptive heroine -- Mimi in Puccini's La Boheme and Violetta in Verdi's La Traviata are probably the most famous. There is no epilogue - just the tragedy leaving the audience gasping for air. Walking out of Love Story, I was struck with how the sudden end of the film after Jenny's death paralleled these operas. But another lightbulb went on - Segal's story is Camille, the English language version of Dumas' novel La Dame aux Camélias that was the basis for Verdi's La Traviata and several film adaptations. The broad outlines of the story match perfectly. The two lovers are from opposite ends of society. The woman is, for a time, pulled into 'higher' class society because of her lover. The man's family's opposition to her causes deep stress and complications for the young lovers. Ultimately, the terminal illness of the woman brings about a reconciliation of sorts. 

I learned I wasn't the only one who saw the parallels; while I couldn't find the original quote, Wikipedia mentions film critic Judith Crist referring to the movie as "Camille...with bullshit." I'm not sure if Segal intended the parallels; a NY Times interview cites his personal experience and that of several contemporaries (including Al Gore!) as providing inspiration for the film, but no mention of Dumas' self-sacrificing heroine.

So if you've always avoided this one, or haven't seen it in decades, consider giving it a look. It's currently streaming on Amazon Prime. As always, I'm interested in what you think of the film, so please comment below!