Reeling Backward: "The Gallant Hours" (1960)

"The Gallant Hours" is a war movie with no depiction of war. Other than a few far-away sounds of cannon fire or pinging submarine sonar, there is nothing in the film that even alludes to combat. Rather, the action takes place in cramped shipboard offices, inside jungle tents or the back of a jeep. It's not about the bond that forms between foot soldiers during a war, but the loneliness of command of the admirals and generals sending them into the fray.

"Gallant" is a biopic of Admiral William F. "Bull" Halsey, but rather than attempting a sprawling narrative of his entire life, it focuses entirely on the five-week period leading up to the naval battle of Guadalcanal, a key turning point in World War II. Halsey made some bold decisions to take the fight to the Japanese despite having an inferior fleet, and the movie depicts these choices as making the difference in the Pacific campaign.

It's unabashed hagiography, but done well and with a minimum of historical chicanery.

James Cagney, outfitted with some caterpillar eyebrows, zestfully tackles the role of the larger-than-life Halsey. If anything, they tone him down quite a bit, since Halsey was known for his salty language and quicksilver temperament. This was one of Cagney's final starring roles, and he made the most of it.

Director Frank Montgomery made his own bold choice in how the story would play out. He alternates between scenes of the American and Japanese commanders conferring and planning (though obviously more time is spent on the Yanks). It would seem to be rather dull stuff -- pulling papers out of attache cases, pointing at maps, etc. But Montgomery makes it engaging and often even compelling.

Usually in war movies the focus is on the "man on the ground" perspective, amidst the mud and blood, often with dismissive references to the generals issuing deadly orders while safely ensconced in the rear. "Gallant" shows that, even if the fellows with all the brass weighing down their collars have much cushier accommodations, the burden they bear can be crushing.

Montgomery and his screenwriters (Bernie Lay Jr. and Frank D. Gilroy) make the interesting choice to provide a lot of narration (by Montgomery himself) about what we're seeing, and about virtually every individual we encounter. So when we first meet a character -- even one who might disappear in a couple of minutes -- there will be some newsreel-ish exposition saying who he is, where he came from, his personality and combat experience, etc. Sometimes it will even reveal that he will die later in the war.

Again, this has the potential to become repetitive and even comical if overdone ("Arthur Jones, ship's cook, from Baton Rougie, a miller's son, quick with a smile and quicker with a spatula..."). But somehow the tactic works, and we feel like we're getting a more complete picture of the men surrounding Halsey.

Only two really stand out as personalities. Harry Black (Ward Costello) is the by-the-book man who's initially affronted by Halsey's seat-of-his-pants style of command, but ends up fiercely loyal. Dennis Weaver plays Andy Lowe, a pilot from the South with a thing for the ladies. His laconic, slightly mocking manner and molasses-slow line delivery act to lighten things up whenever it gets too intense.

"The Gallant Hours" is also notable for its remarkably even-handed depiction of the Japanese commanders, who are shown as honorable, diligent and resolute. Perhaps by the time this film came out, a decade and a half after the war's end, audiences were ready to accept a portrayal of their former enemies in a way that was not single-mindedly jingoistic.

Overall, the historical accuracy of the film is pretty scrupulous, with one glaring exception: the interception and destruction of the aircraft carrying Admiral Yamamoto, the revered Japanese naval commander. "Gallant" shows this happening extemporaneously with the big final battle, and suggesting it was a ballsy call by Halsey that allowed him to take out his counterpart.

In fact, Yamamoto's death occurred months later, and according to Yamamoto's Wikipedia page Halsey was consulted on the operation to dispatch the plane, but did not conceive of the plan.

I can see why the filmmakers inserted this bit of flimflam. The back-and-forth nature of the opposing commanders' schemes plays out like something of a chess match -- which, the film reminds us several times, was a personal passion of Yamamoto. Including his death acts as the knocking over of the king piece, the final victory in their battle of wits.

3 stars out of four

Reeling Backward: "Yankee Doodle Dandy"

James Cagney was a terrific dancer, but he was one of the earliest and perhaps most (in)famous practitioner of the dubious art of talk-singing.

Like other film actors who carried on the tradition such as Rex Harrison in "My Fair Lady," Cagney couldn't hold a sustained note. (Or, on the rare occasions when he tries to, like with the title song, his voice is noticeably weak.)

The solution was to have him do a sort of melodic form of speaking that emulates the rhythm and tone of singing, but without any sort of musical lilt.

I suppose that's an acceptable solution if he just had a song or two in "Yankee Doodle Dandy," but it's a biopic of one of the greatest song-and-dance men Broadway ever saw. So to have him constantly standing there doing that strange vocal cadence while everyone else in the movie is singing their hearts out gets a little old after awhile.

The obvious alternative would have been to have another actor dub Cagney's singing. But he had such a distinctive voice -- a hard, close-throated moan with elongated vowels -- that it was likely impossible to find someone who could sing while still sounding like Jimmy Cagney.

This doesn't detract from his dancing, which is spectacular. My favorite bit is when he is playing an old man on stage, and a fan (who would later become his wife) thinks he really is old, and is surprised when he does a frenetic tap number that would have left a man of half of his presumed years in a puddle.

Cagney plays George M. Cohan, one of the early giants of Broadway, who wrote a number of songs that still linger today: "Over There," "Give My Regards to Broadway," "The Yankee Doodle Boy," "You're a Grand Old Flag" and "Mary Is a Grand Old Name."

The movie starts with him as a child star in the family act, The Four Cohans, with his parents (Walter Huston and Rosemary DeCamp) and sister Rosie (Cagney's real-life sibling Jeanne). Through spunk and grit, he manages to get his own show staged along with longtime partner Sam Harris (Richard Whorf) and eventually becomes the biggest name on Broadway.

The framing story is rather cutesy: After opening his big return act portraying Franklin D. Roosevelt, Cohan is summoned by the president to a night meeting at the White House. Figuring he's going to get chewed out by the chief executive, he instead tells FDR his life story. At the end he's given the Medal of Honor by a special act of Congress. (It's unclear if the film meant the Congressional Gold Medal; the Medal of Honor is strictly for military heroism.)

The story is built around the various songs and shows that highlighted Cohan's life, along with his courting and marriage of Mary (Joan Leslie). It's a rousing good time, with Cagney giving a memorable (when not talk-singing) performance as the cocky but good-hearted Irishman. Cohan's shows were noted for their comedy and unabashed patriotism

"Yankee Doodle Dandy" was directed by Michael Curtiz, one of the great Golden Age directors who doesn't get the recognition of other giants of that era. In that same year, 1942, he also directed Cagney as a fighter pilot in "Captains of the Clouds," and a little picture called "Casablanca."

In this era, when filmmakers like James Cameron or Terrence Malick can go a decade or more between feature films, the prolificacy and quality of work by someone like Curtiz is astonishing.

3 stars