Reeling Backward: "Wings" (1927)

Watching "Wings," the very first winner of the Oscar for Best Picture, and both the strengths and the limitations of its era are obvious.

The downsides are familiar from silent film acting, and early Hollywood in general: a stilted, theatrical acting style; maudlin portrayals of romantic and familial relationships; plots that often turn on happenstance and (mis)overheard conversations; action scenes constrained by the primitive special effects of the time.

But it's still a terrific picture, with some stuff I didn't expect. The gritty, uncompromising portrayal of World War I is shocking for its bloody mayhem and overt depiction of suffering and death. One of the main characters gets shot out of the sky, blood bursting from his mouth like a fountain. There's some daring sexual depictions, including a pair of lesbians, some naked male behinds at the military recruiting office and a brief topless shot of  Clara Bow.

And the aerial dogfighting scenes, though they contain a number of fake-looking collisions and other weaknesses, are still pretty cutting-edge for their time. Most notable was director William A. Wellman's use of rear-facing cameras mounted on actual airplanes, so he could film his stars as they experienced the real gyrations and wind-swept thrills of open-cockpit aviation.

Bow received top billing in the film, even though her part is a supporting one and she disappears for long stretches of the movie. The "It Girl" had a distinctive look that seems almost quaint nowadays -- kewpie-doll face, boyishly short haircut, huge expressive eyes and petite figure. She plays the (literal) girl next door, Mary Preston, who's been in love with Jack Powell (Charles "Buddy" Rogers) since they were kids.

Alas, Jack only seems to have motors on his brain, tinkering around with his hotrod, the Shooting Star. Soon war arrives and he signs up to be a pilot. After a misunderstanding, he goes to Europe mistakenly thinking that Sylvia (Jobyna Ralston), the sophisticated city girl, has given her heart to him.

In reality, she adores David Armstrong (Richard Arlen), the upstanding scion of the town's wealthiest family. Jack goes to war bearing Sylvia's locket with her picture inside, unaware the inscription on the back is made out to David. Meanwhile, Mary signs up as a volunteer to drive trucks for the Allies, hoping to be near Jack.

After an initial period of hostility, Jack and David become fast friends -- and ace pilots. I found it curious that there's very little footage of planes in the air during the film's first half, and then all of a sudden the aerial combat scenes wash over you like a tidal wave.

I've long been a fan of World War I aviation, a period in which new technological breakthroughs seemed to change the tide of the war in the air every couple of months. The film shows real hazards of those claptrap machines, like the machine gun jamming (a frequent occurrence). Though no one ever seems to run out of bullets.

"Wings" also depicts how dogfighting was hardly the epicenter of aerial combat. Attacks on ground targets are frequent, plus one thrilling sequence where Jack and David raid some zeppelins that were used effectively to spot out enemy troop moments.

The love story is less thrilling. Mary does indeed unite with Jack, but he's so plastered while on leave that he fails to recognize her. (Instead, implausibly, becoming obsessed with "lil' bubbles" that he imagines jumping from his champagne glass into virtually every object he sees.) Mary is sent packing back to the States when MPs discover her changing clothes in Jack's room with him passed out on the bed, thinking they've witnessed an unsavory dalliance.

The last extended sequence is emotionally gripping, though doesn't make a whole lot of logical sense. David is shot down during a mission, crashing in German territory. Gravely wounded, he makes his way to a German airfield and steals a plane. Meanwhile Jack, believing his friend dead, goes on a mad killing spree. Seeing David's plane approaching, he peppers it with fire -- somehow missing David's frantic signals. After David crashes into a house, Jack lands nearby to collect a trophy and discovers he's killed his best friend.

The moment is genuinely touching ... though the final sequence after Jack returns home is somewhat maudlin and unlikely. Jack -- having managed to obtain gray hair in between his mustering out and traveling to his hometown -- begs forgiveness from David's parents, giving the mother the tiny stuffed bear David carried with him as a good luck charm. (Of course, he left it behind during his ill-fated final mission.) Having received absolution, Jack meets up with Mary and realizes he's loved her all along.

Gary Cooper shows up for about two minutes as Cadet White, in one of his first major screen roles. It's an electric moment, and I found his more naturalistic acting style in sharp contrast to the stiff antics of Rogers and Arlen.

I very much enjoyed "Wings," even as I realized it was a product of its time. Perhaps the time is now right for a remake?

It was thought for many years that "Wings" had been lost to the ages, but a negative was found and restored. The film is being released on DVD and Blu-ray for the first time tomorrow, Jan. 24. It's a first-class restoration -- they even used different film stocks for the day and night scenes, with sepia for the former and a bluish tint for nighttime.

In addition to the musical score, the soundtrack also includes a number of sound effects -- plane engines, machine guns firing, cannon explosions and so forth. These were actually played during the film's initial release using then-new technology.

The filmmakers also hand-tinted frames to show planes plummeting to earth in flames. The effect is rather primitive, but lends a great deal of authenticity to the air combat.

3 stars out of four

Reeling Backward: "Yellow Sky" (1948)

"Yellow Sky" is one of those movies that is about much more than the superficial story on the screen. Ostensibly it's a Western about a group of desperadoes who stumble upon a gold miner and his tomboy granddaughter in the remote desert, setting up a standoff in which the bandits make designs on a fortune in gold dust.

But the film, directed by William A. Wellman, is more about lust -- lust for gold, lust for sex, and most every other type of yearning mortal man can conjure. Each character in some way lusts for something or other that they cannot have, and only by giving up their avarice can they hope to find any peace.

Gregory Peck, in one of his rare villainous roles -- well, he starts out bad, anyway -- plays "Stretch" Dawson, leader of a gang of seven thieves. The opening sequence pretty well defines their M.O.: They ride into a town, belly up to the saloon bar and inquire about the marshal's whereabouts. Determining he's away on business, they casually saunter over to the bank and rob it.

It seems like easy pickings, but the cavalry soon gives chase, picking off one of the gang. Desperate, they ride into the nearby salt flats to escape. The men are fearful about crossing 70 miles of barren desert, but Stretch insists "it's just a place. It can be crossed."

Though hardly important narratively, the desert sequence is highly evocative in fleshing out the members of the gang. Stretch is taciturn and stern, and is most concerned with protecting his status as leader. "I don't like voting," Stretch says repeatedly whenever they talk about letting democracy rule their actions.

His number two is Dude, played by Richard Widmark. Widmark was one of those actors who bounced between playing authority figures and villains, and was always most interesting as an evil-doer. Something about his large forehead, slitted eyes and prominent cheekbones gave him the appearance of a death's head -- particularly when he smiled. Richard Widmark smiling is one of the most unsettling things you'll ever seen in a movie.

Dude dresses like something of a dandy, but has no taste for women. As he reveals to Stretch in a quiet moment, he used to own a ranch and have a girl, but when he was shot and robbed she left him. With only one working lung, Dude is incapable of physical labor. He wants to become so rich he'll never have to sweat again -- and rub it in the face of the people who same him descend into failure.

Harry Morgan, forever Col. Potter from "M*A*S*H*," has a small role as Half Pint, an undersized cowpoke with a quick smile and an affinity for animals. Lengthy (John Russell) is the hothead of the bunch. Bull Run (Robert Arthur) is the youngest bandit, because it is an unwritten rule in Westerns that when more than three people throw in together, one of them must be a tenderfoot.

Charles Kemper has a memorable role as Walrus, the tubby, bearded older cowboy who serves as both comic relief and ready-made pragmatist, ready to blow with the wind.

In the desert Walrus is threatened with death, because he filled his canteen with whiskey back in town. He offers to trade some booze for water, plaintively begging that he will die soon without it, but no one will give him a drink. Stretch seems unbothered by the idea of Walrus dying of thirst, relegating it as a simple matter of a man living with his own poor choice.

They make it through the desert, and come across the ghost town of Yellow Sky. Once booming with money from silver mines, things dried up awhile ago. But an old man (James Barton) and his granddaughter Mike (Anne Baxter) are still around. After slaking their thirst, the thieves' minds quickly turn to questioning why two people would stick it out alone unless they had something to show for it.

The overt sexuality of the movie is pretty striking by 1948 standards. All the men except for Dude quickly take a shine to Mike (Constance Mae is her real name), with animosity brewing as they vie for a place at the front of what they clearly believe will become a line.

Stretch orders them to leave the old man and girl alone, but doesn't follow his own orders. In one creepy scene, he tackles Mike and pins her down, forcibly kissing her. He gets up and quips something about just wanting to show her what he's capable of, but it clearly was the beginning of a sexual assault.

Mike, though, is a deadeye with her rifle, and parts Stretch's hair with a well-aimed bullet as warning/retribution. Inevitably, though, Mike finds herself drawn to Stretch. She's lived alone with just her grandpa since she was a girl, and Baxter's portrayal of a young woman's unmet raging desires surely brought a blush to audiences' cheeks back in the day.

Even the old man has desires. He's been mining gold dust mote by mote for more than 15 years, and has $50,000 worth saved up -- not for the wealth, but so he can revive the town of Yellow Sky again. Once the bandits' motives become clear, he offers to split the take with them, which Stretch agrees to out of sheer convenience, and perhaps because he's taken a shine to Mike.

Dude isn't having any of it, though, and usurps the leadership of the gang. Bull Run is killed in the ensuing melee, and Walrus and Half Pint don't really have a stake one way or the other, simply following the leadership of whoever seems to be in the strongest position at any given moment.

Stretch's transformation into a well-meaning fellow who sticks by his word isn't terribly convincing, nor is the seemingly pasted-on happy ending, where Stretch and what's left of his gang return the money they stole from the bank. Old habits die hard, though, and Stretch forces the bank workers and customers to hold up their hands at gunpoint, before realizing how silly this is.

The screenplay by Lamar Trotti was based on an unpublished book by W.R. Burnett. According to the film's Wikipedia page, the story is loosely based on Shakespeare's "The Tempest," but it must be pretty loose indeed. The old man in "Yellow Sky" has no sorcerous powers, unless you count his affinity with the local Apache.

The cinematography by Joseph MacDonald is terrific, with a lot of bright whites and high contrasts that make the scenes seem parched and arid.

"Yellow Sky" is a solid Western, but it's even better when considered for its subtext.

3 stars out of four

Reeling Backward: "Beau Geste"

Nineteen thirty-nine is the year that keeps on giving -- when it comes to great classic films, that is.

"Beau Geste" is one of those movies that has been somewhat shunted aside in film history. People speak well of it, but not in the same breath as the masterpieces of that era.

Directed by William A. Wellman -- who also helmed "A Star is Born" and "Battleground," both recently featured on Reeling Backward -- "Beau Geste" is an old-fashioned adventure tale about men seeking their fortune in distant lands, with strange enemies and even stranger so-called allies. In setting and tone it reminded me very much of "Gunga Din," made the same year.

I liked it well enough -- the story has Gary Cooper, Robert Preston and Ray Milland as adopted brothers who join the French Foreign Legion, with the mystery of a stolen sapphire hanging over them.

There's some wonderfully harrowing battle scenes, and the opening sequence is haunting and mesmerizing: A column of legionnaires roll up on a remote desert fortress. It seems to be well-defended, but as they get closer they can see that all the men manning the battlements are dead. There's no enemy in sight. How could all those men die standing up, with their hats still on their heads and their rifles clutched in their lifeless hands?

But I suppose what really put this movie over the top for me was the villain, who has instantly catapulted to my list of all-time great cinematic nemeses. Sgt. Markoff, played by Brian Donlevy, is a tough-talking, sadistic SOB who believes in whipping men into line, and shooting them if they don't. He has no trouble sacrificing his men if it means winning himself a medal and a promotion.

And yet, as one of the brothers acknowledges, he's probably the best soldier any of them will ever meet.

At one point, Markoff puts down a mutiny and is prepared to execute dozens of men, but when a tribe of Arab begins attacking the fortress, he rallies the men -- even the disloyal ones -- to fight like lions. It's also his idea to prop up the dead soldiers on the battlements, so it appears to the enemy that their numbers have not diminished.

The three brothers were adopted by Lady Pat and raised in comfort. (A young Donald O'Connor, before he made 'em laugh in "Singin' in the Rain," plays 12-year-old Beau.) But Lady Pat's husband, who is absent nearly all the time, has spent the family into ruin. Her only recourse is to sell the Blue Water, the biggest sapphire in the world, which is the family's greatest heirloom.

But the sapphire is stolen before the sale. Beau (Cooper), the oldest, writes a letter confessing to the crime, but younger brothers Digby (Preston) and John (Milland) suspect he did so in order to direct any blame away from the guilty party. They decide the only honorable thing to do is follow his example, so they too confess to the crime and leave the estate.

They all end up in the Foreign Legion, which is a motley crew of thieves and murderers. Keeping them under his iron fist is Markoff, who learns of the sapphire and means to have it for himself. Donlevy gives a great, scene-chewing performance, and was nominated for an Oscar for his supporting role. Markoff's signature line -- "I promise you!" -- is used as an ever-present threat to those who would defy him.

If you watch the movie, make sure to look at Donlevy's feet -- he's wearing some pretty obvious elevator shoes to make himself appear taller. I guess he didn't want Markoff to look like a shrimp next to Gary Cooper and Ray Milland, both of whom stood a few inches over 6 foot.

I also learned a bit of trvia: In filming the scene where John fatally stabs Markoff, Milland apparently missed Donlevy's protective padding and really did pierce him through the ribs, resulting in a fairly serious injury.

"Beau Geste" -- which means "beautiful gesture" in French -- was based on the novel by Percival Christopher Wren. The 1939 version was not the only screen adaptation. There was a 1926 version, and the story was remade in 1966 with Guy Stockwell, Leslie Nielsen and Telly Savalas. There was also a 1982 TV mini-series, and google-eyed comedian Marty Feldman directed and starred in a 1977 spoof titled, very tongue-in-cheek, "The Last Remake of Beau Geste."

3.5 stars

Reeling Backward: "A Star Is Born"

"A Star Is Born" has been made into three movies: the 1937 original starring Janet Gaynor and Fredric March (which is the one I'm reviewing here); a 1954 musical version with Judy Garland; and a 1976 rock 'n' roll version with Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson. In all three the basic story is the same -- a fading star falls in love with a young up-and-comer, and resents seeing their star eclipsed.

In the 1954 and '76 versions, there was no question that the woman was the star of the picture. But in 1937, it was Gaynor whose career was fading, while March was in the midst of a long and distinguished career. By 1938, Gaynor's run as a Hollywood star was effectively finished, much like the character of Norman Maine. This film, directed by William A. Wellman, starts with the Gaynor character as the focus, but the story's emphasis shifts more and more to her husband as time goes on.

"Star" is a decent picture, but not the masterpiece it's made out to be. There were long stretches in the middle where I was fairly bored. I found it interesting, though, for its cynical and bleak portrayal of the Hollywood biz. It's essentially a critique of the star-making machine that ruled during the Golden Age of the 1930s and '40s, from the very people who were perpetrating it.

Esther Blodgett (Gaynor) is determined to be a star, but is warned by her grandmother that holding onto a dream so tightly often leads to heartbreak. To want something so badly, you must be willing to sacrifice everything for it. Oliver Niles (Adolphe Menjou), a big-time producer, gives her essentially the same advice. In her case, it's her relationship with Norman Maine (March) that withers.

The producer is depicted as a fairly benign figure, operating at the whim of whatever he thinks will generate the most publicity for the studio. As the film opens, it's Norman Maine. But when the light of Esther -- renamed Vicki Lester for her showbiz moniker -- begins to eclipse Norman's, the supposed old friend is quick to give him the boot.

The most depraved figure is the studio publicist, Matt Libby, played by Lionel Stander. I must confess that I only knew Stander from his role as the crony Max from that awful "Hart to Hart" television series, when he was an old bear of a man. It's hard to even think of a guy like that being young.

Libby sees everything through the prism of publicity, including how to stage the marriage of Norman and Esther/Vicki. He's furious when they sneak off for a quickie wedding at a remote town hall, rather than the big shindig he had planned. The Libby character also comes off as a Jewish caricature.

March gives a fine performance, especially toward the end after he becomes a sad-sack has-been, moping around and trying to hold onto the tattered shreds of his dignity, and stay off the booze. Considering how he starts out as a dashing, rapscallion gentleman drunk and ends up as such a pathetic figure, the film is also notable for tackling alcoholism in a scathing way.

This was my first Janet Gaynor movie. She has Betty Boop features -- exceedingly round face, tiny bow-tie mouth and big, puppyish eyes. I doubt a woman with that sort of face could make it as a star in Hollywood these days. Christina Ricci comes close, but her career hasn't exactly been gangbusters lately. Today's female stars tend to be have beautiful but bland faces. I think I prefer the old Hollywood days, when faces with character were the ideal.

3 stars