Reeling Backward: "Born Yesterday" (1950)

Judy Holliday had one of those comet-like Hollywood careers, burning fast and bright. She won an Oscar for "Born Yesterday," her first lead role after a lauded turn in "Adam's Rib." She starred opposite Jack Lemmon in his first two films, went back to Broadway, endured ill health and died of breast cancer in 1963 at the age of 43.

It seemed like Holiday was everyone's second choice for a role that she then knocked out of the park. Playwright Garson Kanin wrote the part of Billie Dawn, the tough moll with the squawky voice, for Jean Arthur. When she left the show, Holiday was picked to replace her for the Broadway run, which was so successful the movie studios soon came calling. But the Columbia Pictures chief didn't want her. It took a lot of wrangling by director George Cukor and some big stars to help her land the part.

She was rewarded with a Golden Globe and the aforementioned Academy Award, beating out the likes of Gloria Swanson in "Sunset Boulevard" -- which also featured William Holden in the supporting role of the boyfriend. Though instead of being an object of degradation, Holden's character in "Born Yesterday" serves to lift Billie up out of her dreary circumstances.

The film also received Oscar nods for screenplay, director, best picture and costume design.

The story centers around a junkyard magnate/mobster, Harry Brock, played by Broderick Crawford. He's an abusive bully, lording it over everyone in the same room, including the Congressman (Larry Oliver) he's come to Washington, D.C. to help him pass desired legislation for his junk business. Harry treats his longtime fiancee Billie like an accessory, often bellowing at her, "Do what I tell you!!"

I was surprised watching the film how edgy it is. Harry says the word "pregnant" at one point, which was banned on nascent television but still more or less verboten in the days of the Production Code, which was still very much in effect in 1950. Even more surprisingly, Harry's threats of violence against Billie result in a sudden moment where he belts her very hard several times onscreen. Billie's face is turned toward the camera when it happens, so we see the impact of his neanderthal blows.

Harry, with the help of his obsequious attorney Jim Devery (Howard St. John), hires high-minded journalist Paul Verrall (Holden) to tutor Billie so she'll be more acceptable to the hoity-toity D.C. social crowd. Verrall takes the job less for the money -- $200/week, or twice his newspaper salary -- than an opportunity to infiltrate Harry's circle and get the scoop on what he sees as a greedy sod working the system for his own benefit.

But he doesn't count on Billie falling for him, or him eventually returning the favor. It's interesting to see Holden in two movies in a single year where he is the pursued object of feminine attraction, rather than the traditional wolf on the hunt.

There's not much of a plot to speak of -- Harry's various machinations getting tripped up by Billie's increasing social consciousness being about the extent of it. Half his business is on paper in her name for legal protection, an asset she eventually puts to good use.

The movie is really just a showcase for Holliday. Her Billie is a tramp with a heart of gold buried underneath seven years of cynicism and abuse from Harry, whose taint has infected her outward behavior if not yet her soul.

Her voice is hard to listen to for 103 minutes -- screechy, nasal-y timbres tend to give me a headache.  Holliday makes Billie's tawdriness a feature rather than a bug, though. She'll never lose her brash style and rapport with regular folks. That's integral to her charm. Paul doesn't try to change her, just expand her ambition and internal library.

The film's political commentary is a mite heavy-handed at times -- Albert Mannheimer is given sole screenwriting credit, though Kanin contributed, too. Harry is in many ways a cartoon version of the brute subverting democracy to his own self ends. If instead of ordering people around and paying off a congressman he started a PAC, Harry would be indistinguishable from traditional lobbying efforts. Meanwhile, Verrall seems to be advocating for a collectivist hive of selfless citizens working together for the good of the people, which is an awfully naive mindset for a cynical reporter.

"Born Yesterday" is also something of a love letter to the city of Washington, D.C., showing all the various tourist spots and hidden lovely vistas. It's a fun, romantic dash of a movie that also has something to say. And it features one of the all-time iconic female comedic performances.

Reeling Backward: "All the King's Men" (1949)

I will confess to being somewhat disappointed with "All the King's Men," the Oscar winner for Best Picture of 1949. It's a well-done movie, certainly a gripping drama and more ambitious stuff than one generally saw out of Hollywood in those days, which tended to avoid overt political messages like the plague.

But somehow the movie seems too small for such a big story -- about power, democracy and in someways America itself. The book by Robert Penn Warren was one of my favorites from my high school days. As I said at the time, Warren could write about politics and make it absolutely thrilling, while Hemingway could somehow write about love and war and manage to make it dull as plain toast. (As you can tell, I gave my teachers fits.)

I stumbled across the movie version of "Men" after learning its relationship to "Champion," the subject of last week's Reeling Backward column. Kirk Douglas, already a bona fide star, lost the Best Actor Academy Award to Broderick Crawford that year. Bigger stars, including John Wayne, had turned down the role of Willie Stark, a Southern hick nobody who claws his way to the governor's mansion.

Crawford, known mostly for playing tough guys and cops in various supporting roles, was nobody's idea of a dramatic lead. But writer/director Robert Rossen saw something in Crawford's pugnacious face and zigzagging broken nose that suggested something of Willie's stubbornness and indomitable will. I am astonished to learn that Crawford was only 38 years old in 1949; I would have guessed closer to 60. He went on to have a long career in film and television.

(I should add that I have not seen the 2006 remake starring Sean Penn, though I recall it being greeted by nearly universally lukewarm sentiments.)

Narratively, the film takes its time setting up the characters and situation. Willie is a troublemaker from the sticks who can't even get himself elected to the local municipal council. He attracts the attention of Jack Burden (John Ireland), a cynical young reporter from the biggest newspaper in the state, who describes Willie as the last honest man left in politics.

Jack, the narrator and eyes of the audience through which we view Willie, is a piece of work himself. He is the son of the richest part of the state, which even bears his name, Burden's landing, where the wealthy and the powerful cavort and aim derision at the rascal politicians. His stepfather is exceedingly wealthy, and supports Jack's meager salary as a journalist.

Jack is deeply in love with Anne Stanton (Joanne Dru), the descendant of the state's most revered governor. Her brother Adam (Shepperd Strudwick) is an idealistic doctor and Jack's best friend; their uncle is Judge Stanton (Raymond Greenleaf), an elderly but respected man who ends up serving as kingmaker for Willie during his second, successful run for governor.

Two things disappointed me most about the film: the short shrift given to the secondary characters, and the way Willie's rise to power and conversion from warrior for the little man into corrupt power-monger is skimmed over.

"All the King's Men" was one of the first books I encountered where the supporting characters were as vibrant and well-drawn as the main figures. I particularly remember Sadie Burke, the mercenary political handler who ends up being one of Willie's inner circle, not to mention his lover. She was brittle, caustic and fully fleshed. Mercedes McCambridge won an Oscar for her turn -- her very first film performance; she was mostly known for radio work before 1949.

But in the movie version, the character remains mostly in the background, flitting to the fore whenever the mechanics of the plot require it. McCambridge earned her golden statuette through the tried-and-true "two good scenes" method; she got a pair of meaty scenes with terrific dialogue to sink her teath into, and did.

The Stantons are similarly cut short. Anne goes through an amazing conversion, from idealistic young beau of Jack's to Willie's mistress -- a monumental betrayal that the movie barely comments upon.

For me, the story of Willie Stark is about a man losing his way. When he starts out, Willie is all about pushing out the corrupt good ole boy network so the regular, rural folks who can't fend for themselves -- he proudly calls them, and himself, "hicks" -- won't get run over by the rich and the politically powerful.

It's interesting in this day of 99 percenters vs. 1 percenters to view Willie's populist insurgence. During his campaign swings, he talks openly about "soaking the rich." And yet, in the end it is the Stantons and other denizens of Burden's Landing who push him to the top. Strange, since people of power rarely give it up willingly.

Though it's a powerful performance by Crawford, I never really felt like this film version gets inside the head of Willie Stark. It plays out like a good guy who turns into a villian, but neither he nor those watching him really understand when or how it happens.

That's not what I took away from Robert Penn Warren's wonderful book, which filled in all the blank spaces the movie leaves unmarked.

2.5 stars out of four