Songs of Innocence and Experience : Romance in the Cinema of Frank Capra [1 ed.] 9781443850957, 9781443847810

Citation preview

Songs of Innocence and Experience: Romance in the Cinema of Frank Capra

Songs of Innocence and Experience: Romance in the Cinema of Frank Capra

By

Magdalena Grabias

Songs of Innocence and Experience: Romance in the Cinema of Frank Capra, by Magdalena Grabias This book first published 2013 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2013 by Magdalena Grabias All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-4781-X, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-4781-0

To my mum and dad, my sister, my nephew, my grandma and Clive Nolan, my friend.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Tables .............................................................................................. ix Acknowledgments ...................................................................................... xi Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 Chapter One ................................................................................................ 5 Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 35 Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 65 From Innocence to Experience: Innocence Chapter Four ............................................................................................ 105 From Innocence to Experience: Experience Chapter Five ............................................................................................ 161 Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life Conclusion ............................................................................................... 199 Bibliography ............................................................................................ 203 Selected Filmography ...............................................................................211

LIST OF TABLES

Table 2-1 The Old Comedy vs. The New Comedy .................................... 39 Table 2-2 Comedy vs. Romance ........................................................... 44-45 Table 2-3 Screwball Comedy vs. Romantic Comedy ........................... 49-50

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, I would like to express my gratitude to Professor Christopher Garbowski, the supervisor of my doctoral dissertation and a spiritus movens of my academic research, for his incredible patience, kindness, good will, long years of hard work on me and with me, and for inspiring me with his vast knowledge and humanistic attitude. I also wish to thank Professor Jerzy Kutnik and Professor Jacek Dąbaáa for valuable pieces of advice, support and time devoted to me and my book. A thank you to Professor Jan Adamowski and my colleagues at the Department of Cultural Studies of Maria Curie-Skáodowska University in Lublin (UMCS) for support and the creative academic atmosphere. Further thanks go to Ian Jones for his enthusiasm, his hard work on my book and invaluable help in solving linguistic and stylistic issues. A thank you to Ivan Kinsman and Krzysztof Kurkowski for technical support. A massive thank you (which I fail to express in words) goes to my family: my lovely mum Wiesáawa Karczewska-Grabias for her warmth and wisdom and teaching me to feel and love; my dad Professor Stanisáaw Grabias for being a never-ending inspiration and for knowing the way whenever I fail to see one; my beautiful sister Ewa Niestorowicz for being my best friend ever and never failing in that; Tomasz Niestorowicz for being always there for me; AdaĞ Niestorowicz for being the coolest little guy on Earth; my grandma Maria Karczewska for being perfect (I know you are watching over me from some better place now...); and Kasia for her unconditional love and kind heart. Last but not least, a big thank you to all those I love, my wonderful friends who have been making my life worth living throughout the years and who make me want to reach for the stars (in random order): Clive Nolan, Christina Booth, Mike Booth, Ian Jones, Timo Groenendaal, Marijke Groenendaal-van der Schaal, Claudio Momberg, Rachel Wilce, Nick Barrett, Susanne Brauer, Victoria Bolley, Mark Westwood, Mrs. Margaret Nolan, Fernando Gomez, Alan Reed, David Clifford, Scott Higham, Andy Sears, Peter Gee, Nathalie Lebreux-Pointer, Mick Pointer, Paul Menel, Chris Lewis, Maggi Lewis, Paul Manzi, Agnieszka ĝwita, Marcel Haster, Barbara Haster, Graeme Bell, Simon Hill, Kylan Amos, Kim Carter,

xii

Acknowledgments

Fabien Bienvenu, Noel Calcaterra, Arnfinn Isaksen, Morten L Clason, Stig Andre Clason, Ian Hemingway, Neil Palfreyman, Bridget Palfreyman, Patric Toms, Sian Roberts, Dominique Bordas, Tatiana Unzueta, Chris Walkden, Iain Richardson, Damian Wilson, Soheila Clifford, Farideh Clifford, Tasmara van Loon, Verity Smith, Tracy Hitchings, Alec Morris, Wojciech JastrzĊbski, Agata Pawlos, Marcin Pawlos, Ewelina Tiemann, Marcin Tiemann, Magdalena SkórzyĔska-Wach, Tomasz Wach, Michaá Zając, Magdalena Bardzik, Mariusz Bardzik, Ewa Mazurek, Ewa Leonowicz, Marcin Leonowicz, Anna ZieliĔska, Tomasz ĩurek, Monika Chodkiewicz, Bogusáaw Nocek, Janek Kulka, Anna Kulka-Dolecka, Grzegorz Dolecki, Katarzyna Kaja Zieja, the Rev. Andrzej Szpak, Karolina Kmiecik-JusiĊga, Marek JusiĊga, Klara Skwarek, Andrzej Skwarek, the Rev. Jan Mazur, Karolina Fórmanowska, Mareczek Wójcik, Aneta Wójcik, Karolinka Wójcik, Andrzej Smyk, Maágorzata AnasiewiczKuzioáa, Dorota ĝwita, Dariusz Mirosáaw, Natalia Kubacka, Agnieszka ĝwiątnicka-KulpiĔska, Tomasz Thom KamiĔski, Artur Chachlowski, Maágorzata Chachlowska, Katarzyna Chachlowska, Magdalena Kinsman, Rafaá Rejowski, Sáawomir Artymiak, Jacek Karczewski, Katarzyna ObszaĔska, dr Anna Pado, Ewa Oráowska, GraĪyna Krzyszczak, my colleagues at CNiCJO, Pendragon, Arena, the Pendie OCD, all at the Caamora Theatre Company; and Frank Capra–for wings...

INTRODUCTION

Although of Italian origin, Frank Capra (1897–1991) is considered to be one of the most quintessentially American directors of the golden era of Hollywood. Capra’s biography proves that the ideals of the American Dream can be more than just a set of worn-out historical clichés. In the case of Capra, these ideals became the chance to escape poverty and the way to achieve an education and realise his professional aspirations. For Capra, the American Dream became a dream largely fulfilled in real life. His faith and gratitude to the country which offered him the opportunity to go from proverbial “rags to riches” were expressed by Capra in his films. He created an idealistic hero, who, in the spirit of a modern Don Quixote, in the name of common good, fights against a corrupt and unjust system during the difficult period of the Great Depression and attempts to build the New Deal in America. At the time of their initial release, Capra's comedies, although undeniably commercially successful, were not always treated seriously by the critics. After several decades of detailed analyses and attempts to interpret and evaluate Capra’s movies with regards to the changing tastes and perceptions, the critics and film scholars have largely accepted the importance and the artistic value of the director's works. In fact, the number of awards1 as well as the continuous popularity of Capra’s films, despite the passage of time, are clear proof of the filmmaker's genius and confirm his position in the pantheon of the masters of cinematography. The critical literature offers a broad range of subjects concerning Frank Capra and his art. Among the most frequently discussed themes are populism and American social issues presented in Capra’s films, as well as the influence of Catholicism upon his filmic universe; the ethos of the American Dream and glorification of small town values and the American 1 In his career Capra directed over 40 films. It is interesting to note that his It Happened One Night, Mr. Deeds Goes To Town, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, and It's A Wonderful Life perennially occupy top positions on the lists of the American Film Institute. Furthermore, It Happened One Night, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, It's A Wonderful Life, as well as Capra's war documentary series Why We Fight are to be found in the Library of Congress and on the list of the National Film Registry.

2

Introduction

middle class. My book is a study of selected Capra comedies and their analysis from the perspective of the theory of romance as initially proposed by Northrop Frye in his seminal works Anatomy Of Criticism (1957) and Secular Scripture: A Study Of The Structure Of Romance (1976). In 1988, Lesley Brill wrote an important book on Alfred Hitchcock, The Hitchcock Romance: Love and Irony in Hitchcock Films.2 He based his analysis on Frye’s concept of literary romance, which overlaps with comedy, and applied it to the realm of the cinematic art of Hitchcock. Therefore, Frye’s theory proves to still be current and also adequate in the case of cinema. Moreover, Frye's theory became the background for Francesca Aran Murphy's interpretation of the world of comedy in her book The Comedy of Revelation. Paradise Lost and Regained in Biblical Narrative (2000).3 Frye claims that “in romance the central theme […] is that of maintaining the integrity of the innocent world against the assault of experience.”4 The above quotation, as well as the title of my book, echo William Blake's romantic reflections on the conflicting nature of innocence and experience, expressed in his Songs Of Innocence And Experience (1794).5 However, Frye’s understanding of the notion of romance embraces broader aspects than the classic determinants defining the epoch of Romanticism. Frye acknowledges that romance is far older than Romanticism. The methodology I have chosen to apply for the sake of my analysis of Frank Capra’s films is closer to Brill's interpretation of Frye’s theory: By romance I mean to indicate the relatively fabulous kind of narrative that we associate with folklore and fairy tale and their literary and cinematic offspring. In film, such narratives may be as clearly related to their mythic and folkloric forebears as Cocteau's Beauty And The Beast or Murnau's Nosferatu; they may be modernised fairy tales like The Gold Rush and Star Wars; or may underlie such rationalized and relatively distant relations as 6 Grand Illusion or She Done Him Wrong.

2

Lesley Brill, The Hitchcock Romance: Love And Irony In Hitchcock Films (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988). 3 Francesca Aran Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation. Paradise Lost And Regained In Biblical Narrative (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000). 4 Northorop Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957), 201. 5 Blake William, Songs Of Innocence And Experience: Shewing The Two Contrary States Of The Human Soul (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970). 6 Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 5.

Songs of Innocence and Experience

3

The subject of romance, as defined by Frye, has been given little attention in cinema-related critical literature. In my book I claim that romance is a pivotal element of Capra’s movies and the one allowing for a more thorough interpretation as well as appreciation of the uniqueness of the director's style. Therefore, the arguments and discussion presented in the subsequent chapters are intended to support the thesis that in the light of Frye’s theory that Capra's films constitute romantic pieces of art. For the sake of my book I have chosen to examine seven films which, until the present day, remain Capra's most popular and the audience's most beloved films. In my opinion, all of the selected motion pictures most fully realise the Frye-related quasi-mythological formula (the subject of which will be developed further in subsequent chapters), which to an extent explains the continuous popularity of these particular films of the director among his many others. The films have been systematised according to the three comedy types: paradisal, purgatorial and infernal, which Aran Murphy adapts from Dante's Divine Comedy to buttress Frye’s concept of romance.7 Finally, I have designated the films to two more general Blake-related categories of “innocence” and “experience”, as such a division reflects the three levels of Dantean comedic reality. The category of 'innocence' corresponds to Murphy's paradisal level, while 'experience' includes the purgatorial and infernal levels, since they can be readily dealt with together. I have assumed that the above categorisation portrays the correlation between paradise and childhood innocence and purity; purgatory with the process of acquiring experience; and inferno encompasses psychological and physical fatigue along with despair. This structure has enabled me to present and analyse Capra’s filmic universe and the process of development of his filmic vision. My main purpose, however, is to indicate that the romantic elements can be found in all Capra’s films chosen to be scrutinised in this book, irrespective of the category they have been assigned to. My book consists of five chapters. Chapter One is devoted to the person of Frank Capra-his life and film making career. The first subsection of the chapter is an attempt to place Capra and his career within the frameworks of the social and political situation in America in the 1930s and 1940s. In the second, I present an overview of critical literature concerning Capra and his films. The critical approaches range across virtually the entire range of film studies. In the final part of the chapter I discuss the cinematic legacy of the director. 7

See Aran Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation, 24.

4

Introduction

Chapter Two provides the theoretical background to the subject of comedy and romance in literature and film. In the first subsection I present the constituents of the literary Old and the New Comedy, which overlap and largely correspond with Northrop Frye’s theory of romance, and discuss Frye’s theory of romance in detail. The subsection is concluded with a comparison of both genres. The subsequent part is devoted to discussing Hollywood’s realisation of the two genres and what could be termed their meta-relationship with the three types of film comedies critics discuss in relation to Frank Capra, namely screwball comedy, romantic comedy and populist comedy. The final part of the chapter is devoted to the notion of audience and the theory of emotions, laughter and ethics. Chapter Three is the first of three analytical parts of the dissertation. In this chapter I formulate the thesis that Capra’s films are romances and present the basis of my categorisation of the seven chosen movies. The main body of the chapter is devoted to the category “innocence” and the three films that represent it; namely Lady For A Day (1933), You Can't Take It With You (1938) and It Happened One Night (1934). The primary aim of this chapter is to indicate the presence of the romantic mode in all three motion pictures as well as justify the thesis that, in the light of Frye’s theory, the films are romantic ones. Chapter Four is an analysis of three populist movies representing the category of “experience”: Mr. Deeds Goes To Town (1936), Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) and Meet John Doe (1941). Following the presented pattern, I search for the romantic elements within the films, arguing that, despite the gloomy tone of this category, the abovementioned films still fit into the frameworks of Frye’s romance modified by Aran Murphy. I devote Chapter Five to perhaps Capra’s greatest masterpiece, It's A Wonderful Life (1946). I claim that the film is multidimensional and that all three Dantean levels of comedy–paradise, purgatory and inferno–can be found in it, and consequently it combines both categories of “innocence” and “experience”. As in the two previous chapters, my main aim is to prove that the film is a romance and, moreover, represents the quintessence of Capra’s romantic vision.

CHAPTER ONE FRANK CAPRA: THE ARTIST AND HIS FILMS

The first chapter of my book will be devoted to Frank Capra, his life and his works. My purpose is to place the artist into the framework of the historical and social background within which he lived and created, and also to present the most crucial elements of the director's biography. Subsequently, I will devote the next part of the chapter to providing an overview of critical literature which has discussed Capra and his films throughout the years from the beginning of the director's cinematic career up to the present day, as well as Capra’s position within the discipline of film studies. I will demonstrate how the films used to be perceived by critics, scholars and audiences in the past, and how the perception, interpretation and understanding of the movies have changed together with changing times and differing critical perspectives. Finally, I will attempt to examine Capra’s legacy and the artist's influence upon the present-day cinema.

Frank Capra's America in Literature and Film America at the turn of the twentieth century, its inevitable social changes brought about by World War I and later on by the years of the Great Depression, followed by Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal, has been widely described, discussed and documented by historians, writers, film directors and documentarists. In literature it was a period when many artists drew their attention to the theme of the artificiality of class divisions and unfair social conditions, and hence in their works they offered a spectrum of lifestyles of people representing both the upper and lower classes. Stephen Crane described the life of a prostitute in his Maggie: A Girl Of The Streets (1893). Theodore Dreiser's Sister Carrie (1900) was a depiction of the life of a country girl who, in search of a better life, went to Chicago and became a kept woman. On the other hand,

6

Chapter One

Edith Wharton devoted her 1920 novel The Age Of Innocence to scrutinising and criticising the stiff conventionality of the upper class. Thus, the literary works of that period frequently indicated the general dissatisfaction of Americans with life, notwithstanding the social stratum they belonged to. The post World War I period was a time marked by the artists of the Lost Generation.1 Writers and poets like T. S. Eliot with his The Waste Land (1922), F. Scott Fitzgerald in The Great Gatsby (1925), Ernest Hemingway in The Sun Also Rises or Farewell To Arms (1929), or John Dos Passos in his 1930s U. S. A. Trilogy among others, described the post war society and the strong disillusionment of people after the war and the prevailing feeling of failure and loss of youthful dreams and ideals. The Great Depression years brought about another set of subjects and social problems to be discussed in both literature and cinema. Following the Wall Street Stock Market Crash on 29 October, 1929, millions of people became unemployed, homeless and bereft of hope. The longest economic crisis in the history of America instigated the mass migration of people in search of jobs and the possibilities to establish a better life for themselves and their families. This phenomenon was described with an almost reportage-like style by John Steinbeck in The Grapes of Wrath (1939). The author presents the story of a family of farmers, the Joads, who, together with other families from Oklahoma and Texas, were driven off their land in search of the Promised Land in California. The novel is a painfully realistic account of the situation of many families in America during the Great Depression. While preparing the book, Steinbeck announced: “I want to put a tag of shame on the greedy bastards who are responsible for that [the Great Depression and its effects].”2 However, despite the grimness of the subject, and contrary to Dos Passos’ grave satire on America presented in his trilogy, Steinbeck's novel is not devoid of positive and optimistic tinges. The Joads are part of the vast group of the hungry and discontented yet, in spite of their tragic situation, they manage to maintain the inherent goodness of common ordinary people. In 1940, Grapes of Wrath was turned into an Oscar winning film by John Ford. Today, the film is considered to be one of the most significant movies documenting the Great Depression era. Nevertheless, the cinema of the 1930s did not solely deal with the gloom of the social situation. The 1

The term Lost Generation was coined by Gertrude Stein and popularised by Ernest Hemingway in his novel The Sun Also Rises (1926). The term refers to the generation of people who served in World War I. 2 John Steinbeck quoted in Morris Dickstein’s “Steinbeck And The Great Depression” in Harold Bloom (ed.) Blooms Modern Critical Views: John Steinbeck (New York: Infobase Publishing, 2008), 152.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

7

American film industry experienced what many have claimed to be its golden era and many new genres were experimented with. Gangster and horror movies, thought to have reflected the sombre mood and pessimism caused by the Depression, were popularised by stars like Bette Davis, James Cagney and Boris Karloff. However, the audience also grew fond of an utterly new and much lighter movie genre, the musical comedy. The genre propagated a diverse message and in most cases aimed at uplifting people's morale and conveying an optimism and faith in the prospective improvement of the situation in the country and the regaining of prosperity and social balance. In 1934, having watched the greatest child star of that time, Shirley Temple, in one of her musical roles, President Roosevelt remarked: When the spirit of the people is lower than at any other time during the Depression, it is a splendid thing, that, for just 15 cents, an American can go to a movie and look at the smiling face of a baby and forget his troubles.3

The gloom of the Great Depression was also reflected in the shift of subject matter as well as the alteration of character development in the classical genres of film comedy and drama. This tendency becomes conspicuous especially in comparison to the 1920s depictions of the frivolousness and carefree happiness of the upper class in comedies. In the Depression-era movies their fortune is often reversed, and in numerous films like Gregory La Cava's My Man Godfrey (1936) or Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night (1934), among many others, the members of the high society are forced to taste the experience of everyday toil and drudgery common to the less privileged social strata. The historical events of the beginning of twentieth century - World War I, the optimistic and prosperous decade of the Jazz Age, the echo of sorrows of people struggling against the hardships of the Great Depression - all had an immense impact on Frank Capra and it is perhaps for that reason the famous words of Ma Joad uttered in John Ford’s The Grapes Of Wrath: “We're the people that live! We'll go on forever, because we're the people”, seem to be the central message of the most memorable of the director’s motion pictures.

3

Franklin D. Roosevelt quoted in Ilana Nash, American Sweethearts: Teenage Girls In Twentieth-Century Popular Culture (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2005), 119.

8

Chapter One

The “Most American” of American Directors As I have already implied, the America of Frank Capra was many different things historically, politically and socially. Born in 1897 to a Catholic family in Sicily, Francesco Rosario Capra arrived in America in 1903.4 The Capras settled in Los Angeles and the country soon became a real home for the six-year-old boy who, in time, was to become the quintessence of an American citizen and the embodiment of American ideals. Capra's life, as Janine Basinger suggests, can serve as “an example of how America allows individuals from humble beginnings to invent themselves, to be who they want to be, and to live by that mythology.”5 Young Frank began his working life in America as a newspaper boy and in the course of the initial years on the new continent he tried to make a living, among other things, as a door-to-door salesman, a waiter and a wandering musician. From the very beginning, Capra sincerely believed in the opportunities offered by America, and he quickly understood that the only way to get out of poverty and to break out of the social status of an Italian immigrant was to gain an education. Much against his family’s will, who considered books and schooling a waste of time and money, Frank achieved his aim, reaching as high as Throop College of Technology (later the California Institute of Technology). He graduated with a bachelor’s degree in chemical engineering in 1918, just in time to join the army in its First World War operations where he spent his time teaching mathematics to artillery officers in San Francisco. After the war, unable to find a job in his profession, he was forced to seek odd jobs travelling throughout the western states for the next three years. It was not until 1921 that he got his first job in the film industry when, in search of easy money, Capra tricked producer Walter Montague into believing that he had some experience in Hollywood filmmaking and was instantly asked to help direct the short film Fultah Fisher’s Boarding House (1922) based on Rudyard Kipling’s poem. The film is Capra's first movie and even today surprises the critics as more than a mediocre debut, especially for a young and inexperienced director as Capra was at that time. Capra’s real Hollywood career, however, commenced two years later 4

Frank Capra's short biography contained in this chapter is based primarily on: Frank Capra, The Name Above The Title: An Autobiography (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1971), Charles Maland, Frank Capra (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1995), Joseph McBride, Frank Capra. The Catastrophe Of Success (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993). 5 Jeanine Basinger, “Introduction” in Frank Capra, The Name Above The Title: An Autobiography (New York: Da Capo Press, 1997), XIII.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

9

with a series of jobs, among others, as a developer and printer in a lab, editor, prop man, and a gagman of the Hal Roach and Mark Sennet studios. Those first steps in the realm of cinema eventually resulted in the collaboration with a silent movie comedian, Harry Langdon, and the directing of two Langdon features, The Strong Man (1926) and Long Pants (1927). Both films were a huge success: they made Langdon one of the biggest stars of that time and they also attracted a great deal of attention to the young director. However, it is believed Langdon grew jealous of Capra’s fast-growing popularity and got rid of him soon after the release of their second feature. In the long run such a state of affairs turned out to be for the better as that same year Capra was hired by Harry Cohn, the President and Production Chief of Columbia Pictures. Here, Frank soon became the leading director and ultimately helped to transform the small film company into a major Hollywood studio. During the eleven years at Columbia he directed such award winning masterpieces of American cinema as It Happened One Night, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936), You Can’t Take It With You (1938) and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939). It is in the period of his long-lasting collaboration with New York playwright Robert Riskin and cameraman Joseph Walker, among others, at Columbia that Capra developed and established his unique comic style6 which, according to Robert Sklar, “possessed the knack of providing mass entertainment in which intellectuals could find both pleasure and significance.”7 After the commercial success of some of his films at Columbia, Capra fought and won the battle to gain control over every aspect of his movies' production. “I wanted to make my own films,” Capra recalls “‘one man, one film’ was

6

Capra’s style has been named Capraesque by the critics and in critical literature the term operates in reference to the director’s originality and uniqueness. There has been a discussion among some of the critics concerning Capra's actual input in what is considered to be Capraesque stylistics. Joseph McBride in his book presents a very radical opinion which denies Capra's right to be called an auteur by indicating the tremendous role of Capra's colleagues and giving credit especially to Robert Riskin. Most of other critics are not that radical and, while they do acknowledge Riskin's role in establishing Capra's characteristic style, they still consider Capra to be the driving force of Capraesque. See: Sam B. Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance: The Cinema Of Democracy In The Era Of Ford, Capra, And Kazan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 63; McBride, Frank Capra, 252; Pat McGilligan, “Introduction” in Six Screenplays By Robert Riskin, (ed.) Pat McGiligan (Berkley, University Of California Press, 1997), XXIII. 7 Robert Sklar, Movie Made America: A Cultural History Of American Movies (New York: Vintage Books, 1994), 198.

10

Chapter One

for me a fetish.”8 The fulfilment of this ambition was reflected in the placing of the director's name above the title of his features and, what is more significant, it found realization in the movies themselves, regardless of whether they belonged to the genre of romantic, screwball, or his populist comedies. Frank Capra, as Charles Maland points out, was an auteur long before the auteur theory was proclaimed by Truffaut in his essay “La Politique des Auteurs” published in Cahiers du Cinema in January 1954.9 In fact, auteurism was based on an assumption which Capra had already been exercising in his movies for more than two decades. The theory claimed that one person should be the driving force of filmmaking and, hence, the films of a particular director should be examined and interpreted according to the recurring stylistic and thematic patterns.10 And Capra’s works certainly fulfil this criterion. In the early thirties, Hollywood was eagerly experimenting with sound and discovering new possibilities that the innovation offered to cinematography. Capra was soon using it for the sake of introducing verbal humour and fast witty dialogues into his films, which, together with silent era visual gags, are considered to be one of his trademarks and a technique which he skilfully practiced even in his later films. This combination enabled Capra to define and develop the genre of screwball comedy, which, as it is frequently suggested, started with It Happened One Night.11 The use of chiaroscuro, operating with light, incorporating music and singing, as well as reaction shots, dream sequences and flashbacks became Capra’s ways of transmitting social ideas, the signs of the tightening of human bonds, and the means to express feelings and illustrate the characters' emotional states. After the enormous success of It Happened One Night which–as the first film–swept the Oscars in five main categories in 1935, Capra went through a period of self doubt and emotional breakdown. He spent a few months in a hospital and the whole experience led him to choose to 8

Frank Capra in Richard Schickel, The Men Who Made The Movies: Interviews With Frank Capra, George Cukor, Howard Hawks, Alfred Hitchcock, Vincente Minnelli, King Vidor, Raul Walsh, And William A. Wellman (New York: Atheneum, 1975), 67. 9 Maland, Frank Capra, 19. 10 See Maland, Frank Capra, 176. 11 See Leland A. Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra: An Approach To Film Comedy (New York: A. S. Barnes and Company, 1975), 153. The issue of It Happened One Night and the genre debate around the film will be discussed in the third chapter.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

11

differentiate the thematic issues of his movies, which eventually resulted in his decision to direct populist comedies within which, apart from entertaining his audience, the director could also “say something.”12 Although the motif of a hero struggling for his ideals in an unfamiliar and unfriendly territory can be traced back to Capra’s Langdon features, it is in his populist movies that the Caprasque hero gained his most recognizable traits. Capra’s Deeds and Smiths are usually small town dwellers and apparently plain common men. However, in the course of the action, they turn out to be uncommon and prove to be “the hope of the world.”13 They are romantic idealists willing to stand up and fight for what they believe in and defend their values against the cynical corrupt environment. As Richard Schickel states, Capra’s heroes “became archetypes which reflected back to us our best qualities – common sense, down-to-earthness, idealism, patriotism, fidelity to family values.”14 They are imaginative heroes of unusual will and moral strength who, like Capra himself, are thrust upon “the roller coaster experience”15 of personal struggles experienced during trying historical events. The Capra family emigrated to America at the very beginning of the twentieth century and consequently found themselves in the vortex of social change and the country's rapid transformation. As a young adult, Frank lived through the times of World War I, the joy and cultural liberation of the Roaring Twenties and the Jazz Age, the miseries of the Great Depression, and subsequently the atrocities of World War II. Throughout the years life accorded him both joyful and tragic experiences. He received an education, managed to find a job in filmmaking and became successful beyond all expectations at a professional level; he was married twice and it was during the second, long-standing marriage that his children were born. However, he also suffered a great deal. The death of his parents and a son, divorce, emotional breakdown and the period of self-doubt after the success of It Happened One Night have influenced and shaped Capra’s mature perception of life. Consequently, all these personal rises and falls are reflected in his heroes, and it is probably due to the diversity of their character traits, as well as their profound genuineness, that they seem so humane and credible to the viewer and allow the 12

Capra, The Name Above The Title, 185. Capra in American Film Institute interviews with Frank Capra, “Frank Capra: One Man–One Film” in Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, (ed.) Richard Glatzer and John Raeburn (Michigan: The University of Michigan Press, 1975), 19. 14 Schickel, The Men Who Made The Movies, 57. 15 Maland, Frank Capra, 23. 13

12

Chapter One

audience to identify with them so deeply. Even though more than seventy years have passed since some of Capra's early movies, the director is still considered to be one of the most fervent advocates of the idea of the American Dream. His firm belief in upward social mobility is illustrated in his films on numerous occasions, especially in his populist movies. The theme was named by the critics “the Cinderella motif” and many a time was criticised as naïve and excessively corny. In the end, the term “Capracorn”16 was coined to describe the Capra style in general. However, who, if not an Italian immigrant whose life is the most tangible proof that the American Dream can at times be fulfilled in reality, had the right to propagate the ideals, to glorify America, and to express his gratitude to the country that had provided him with the opportunity to complete his aims and aspirations successfully? Moreover, despite the fact that Capra’s filmic universe was frequently described as romantic, pastoral, Disney-like,17 or he was accused of dealing in pure fantasy, his social vision was largely based on his own experience and in most cases, his films, against all appearances, developed subjects well known to Capra himself and common to the immigrant middle class minorities in general. William S. Pechter notices that [Capra's] comic genius is fundamentally a realistic one. […] He seems obsessed with certain American social myths, but he observes that society itself as a realist.18

Capra is an interpreter of an American experience.19 It is within the framework of the comedy genre in his Columbia era that he ingeniously succeeded in portraying America and commenting on the political and social situation during the Great Depression, the New Deal and at the threshold of the war. Even though, frequently, the central focus of his films is elsewhere, movies like American Madness, It Happened One Night, or the populist trilogy: Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and Meet John Doe (1941) all include significant images and shots which do not allow the viewer to forget about the social and political situation within which the plot of the story unfolds. On their way to 16

The term, its source and connotations are discussed, among others, in Stephen Handzo “Under Capracorn” in Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, (ed.) Glatzer and Raeburn, 164-176. 17 See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 50, Sklar, Movie-Made America, 209. 18 William S. Pechter American Madness in Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, (ed.) Glatzer and Raeburn, 183-184. 19 See Maland, Frank Capra, 186.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

13

achieving their goals, the characters of the 1930s films are put on the road and become a part of the experience of social mobility. The upper class heroine in It Happened One Night travels by public night bus in the company of working class members and, together with them, is forced to suffer hunger, to sleep in a motel and share with them all sorts of inconveniences so far unknown to her. American Madness depicts the iconic shots of bank runs after the Wall Street Crash; and in the DeedsSmith-Doe trilogy are depicted people living in Hooversvilles, standing in bread lines, or roaming across the country in search of land, jobs and dignity. Together with Hollywood directors like John Ford, Frank Capra became to the cinema what contemporary writers like Steinbeck, Hemingway or William Faulkner were to literature – the documentarist of his times and the voice of the populace. The critic Sam Girgus claims that “Capra is today remembered, […] like Ford, for the influence of his creative genius and social vision of his own and later generations of filmmakers and viewers.”20 Apart from presenting contemporary American issues, the films also provide an alternative perspective and depict Capra's vision of the country in which the ideals of the American Dream find their fulfilment. As Ford states, “Frank Capra is an inspiration to those who believe in the American Dream.”21 At the end of the movies, Capra’s heroes are victorious, and the climactic moments constitute the affirmation of life and the praise of democracy and humanistic values like family, morality, human dignity, friendship and simple kindness, which are considered intrinsic to American culture. “There were real human issues at stake in his movies,”22 the director John Milius notices. Moreover, Girgus proclaims Capra to be the “avatar of the democratic impulse in cinema.”23 Both of these features, together with Capra's ability to refer to the most profound human experiences, explain why audiences find his films so tremendously appealing. Capra’s attitude towards the audience reflects the assumption of Classical Hollywood that a movie should absorb the attention of the audience as much as possible.24 Capra shared the belief that the audience is always right. “People’s instincts are good, never bad. They are right as

20

Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance, 57. John Ford, Foreword to Frank Capra's The Name Above The Title (1971). 22 John Milius in Frank Capra's American Dream, dir. Kenneth Bowser, Columbia Tristar Television, 1997. 23 Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance, 58. 24 See Maland, Frank Capra, 177. 21

14

Chapter One

the soil, right as rain”,25 he remarked on one occasion. Therefore, over the years he managed to create a bond between himself and his audience and he placed a great deal of trust in his viewers. He chose his audience to be the first and the decisive judge of his works. In order to check whether a film had a chance of being received positively, he was among the first to organise closed previews for a certain group of viewers to test their reactions. The results of these sessions were recorded and it allowed the director to make the necessary alterations to the film before its official release.26 After a short time the practice of closed previews became a standard in Hollywood. It is interesting to note, that in the case of Capra, it was also the way of exercising his democratic ideology. It was to the people's will that he entrusted the decision about the ultimate shape of some of his films. In his autobiography, Capra reminisces that, for a filmmaker, there are few things better than seeing his audience enjoying the film: For two hours you've got 'em. Hitler can't keep 'em that long. You eventually reach even more people than Roosevelt does on the radio. Imagine what Shakespeare would have given for an audience like that!27

The above quotation reflects the respect and concern of the director for his audience, and also constitutes an accurate commentary on the power of cinema. Capra's belief in his audience’s opinion seems to have been appropriate, as the warm reception of most of his films, as well as the commercial success of his Columbia productions, prove that the sentiment was, and largely still remains, mutual in the case of several films. Capra treated his actors with equal affection and respect as his audience. “I treated them all as stars,”28 Capra says, as was confirmed by the actors themselves on more than one occasion. And such an attitude was true in the case of all the actors he worked with, notwithstanding the fact whether they appeared in the film for ten minutes or ten seconds. In one of 25

Capra quoted in Geoffrey T. Hellman “Thinker In Hollywood” in Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, (ed.) Glatzer and Raeburn, 5. 26 Charles Wolfe devotes his article to the phenomenon of Capra's relationship with his audience and solving the matter of the problematic ending to Meet John Doe, which will be discussed further on in the book. See Charles Wolfe “Meet John Doe: Authors, Audiences, And Endings” in Meet John Doe: Frank Capra, Director, (ed.) Charles Wolfe (New Brunshwick & London: Rutgers University Press, 1989), 3-29. 27 Capra quoted in Hellman “Thinker In Hollywood”, 13. 28 Capra interviewed by Richard Glatzer in Frank Capra Interviews, (ed.) Leland Poague (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2004), 120.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

15

his interviews, Capra stated: If the so-called ‘bit people’ are believable and can involve the audience in a sense of reality, the audience forgets they're looking at a film. They think they're looking at something in real life. The bit people have a great chore because they're helping to make that background real. If the audience believes in the small people, they'll believe in the stars.29

Similarly, as in the case of his audience, he had confidence and faith in his actors. Stars like Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert, Gary Cooper, James Stewart, Jean Arthur and others had the opportunity to co-create the role they played and thus add something unique to the characters they impersonated. “I gave each of the actors a personality, a sense of being, a sense of existence – no matter how small their part, even if it was a walkon. […] I didn't want them to ape me,”30 Capra claimed. Hence, the predominant style in Capra’s movies is what Raymond Carney claimed to be a transcendental acting style, which he explained as allowing the actors to “speak the language of desire.” According to Carney: It has a more emotional interiority than the other kind of acting. It attempts to put the viewer in touch with private states of feeling that almost defy verbal or social expression. It is in these respects more mysterious and more imaginatively stimulating than the other sort of acting.31

As a result, both the audience watching the films and the actors playing the parts found, and still do find, the characters believable and convincing. Capra directed his last picture for Columbia in 1939 and subsequently left for Warner Brothers where he made two more movies, Meet John Doe (1941) and Arsenic And Old Lace (1944). During World War II Capra was assigned to the army’s Morale Branch (later called Special Services), where, in 1942, he was commissioned by General George C. Marshall to direct the seven-part series of war documentaries aimed at raising the morale of American soldiers and eventually called Why We Fight. In a way the series became an answer to Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph Of the Will (1935), an orchestrated praise of Hitler's policy and Nazism. “She [Leni Riefenstahl] scared the hell out of me. The first time I saw that picture I said, ‘We're dead, we’re gone, we can’t win this war,’” Capra

29

Capra in Poague, Frank Capra Interviews, 120. Capra in Poague, Frank Capra Iterviews, 120. 31 Ray Carney, American Vision. The Films Of Frank Capra (Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1986), 235. 30

16

Chapter One

commented.32 The film showed clearly how powerful a weapon the use of national symbols is, and it provided Capra with the idea of using some of the enemy propaganda footage for the sake of highlighting the enormity of the danger and explaining the necessity of American military forces to fight, as well as the reasons for it. Although the Why We Fight series was Capra’s first documentary project, it is constantly being appraised as valuable and skilfully directed propaganda material. Some of the critics claim that, even within the series, the Capraesque-style and sensitivity can still be found. The films highlight the positive aspects of the common American lifestyle, virtues of common people, pride in American culture, as well as freedom and liberty in general.33 As such, they convey Capra’s belief in democratic values, affirmation of life in a free country, and present a social vision similar to the one we can find in most of the director’s populist movies. The war years also left their mark on Hollywood. The old studio system was no longer as strong as in its pre-war period and those who decided to return to their former occupations after the war were frequently searching for alternative ways of finding employment. After four years of military service, Capra resolved not to return to any of the film studios he had been formerly involved with. Instead, he and three other leading Hollywood directors, Sam Briskin, William Wyler, and George Stevens, chose to try their luck with their own independent production company. Thus, in 1945, Liberty Films was formed. It was for Liberty Films that Capra made his most famous masterpiece, It’s A Wonderful Life (1946), which will be discussed in detail in a further section of this book, and State Of The Union (1948). As the critics judged, these were the director's two last meaningful productions. Capra continued filmmaking for the next thirteen years during which time he directed four features and a series of scientific programmes for television. None of these, however, turned out to be as successful as their predecessors, and Capra’s 1961 Pocketful of Miracles, a remake of his own Lady For A Day, became the director’s swansong. Twenty years later in 1982 the American Film Institute honoured Capra with a Life Achievement Award. Nevertheless, neither Pocketful Of Miracles nor his television productions became the last time the world heard about Frank Capra. In 1971 the director published his autobiography The Name Above The Title, a heart-warming account of his life, but also an exciting history of the golden years of Hollywood and its ways. The book was immediately 32 33

Capra in Schickel, The Men Who Made The Movies, 82. See Maland, Frank Capra, 128.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

17

highly acclaimed by both the critics and the readers and it commenced a new era for Capra. The early seventies became the time of Capra film revivals. A generation of young people discovered in them the values and charm that had been largely absent from cinema for decades. Frank Capra became a celebrity again and enjoyed tremendously touring the country and lecturing young students in universities across America. Capra died in his sleep at his California home in 1991. Today, he still is considered to be the epitome of American culture and the most eager warrior fighting for the American Dream's values and ideals. John Raeburn claimed that Capra was “the most insistently American of all directors. […] He was most obsessively concerned with scrutinizing American myths and American states of consciousness.”34 It is clear that Capra worshiped his adopted country, to which he gave proof on numerous occasions in his films, his autobiography, interviews and lectures. In his speech during the American Film Institute Life Achievement Award celebration, Capra conveyed his gratitude once more declaring: “For America, just for living here, I kiss the ground.” Capra was aware of his obligation to pay back the debt he owned to America for the opportunities it had offered to him and his family. At the same 1982 AFI event in reference to Frank Capra, George Stevens Jr. recalled the fragment of William Faulkner’s Nobel Prize address concerning the duty of an artist: It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor, and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.35

These words seem to accurately describe the art of Frank Capra. Currently, just like in the past, in the hearts of his audience Capra remains “the lighthouse in a foggy world,”36 bringing a spark of hope and optimism to what frequently seems like a dull and grim quotidian reality.

34

John Raeburn, “Introduction” in Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, VIII. William Faulkner's Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech. Online on January 16, 2013 at: http://fiction.eserver.org/criticism/faulkner-nobel.html. 36 Capra used these words twice in his movies: first in Meet John Doe and later on in the first of his Why We Fight series Prelude To War in relation to all the political leaders in the service of democratic ideas and liberty. See Maland, Frank Capra, 117. 35

18

Chapter One

In the Eyes of the Critics and through the Prism of Cultural Studies The understanding of Capra’'s works has, to a large extent, been shaped by the critics and scholars who have been examining the films for their meaning and artistic value over the years, which have reflected the different concerns of film studies as they have evolved. Hence, in this part of the chapter, I will provide an overview of the critical ideas concerning the director and his movies, as well as Capra’s place within the framework of cultural studies. Looking at the vast number of critical works and articles concerning Frank Capra and his films that have been published since the beginning of his career, a clear dividing line between two trends of interpretation is conspicuous. Namely, between the criticisms from the 1930s on up to the seminal publication of Raymond Carney’s American Vision: The Films of Frank Capra in 1986, the first fully auteurist approach, and those which appeared after it. In the preface to the 1996 edition of American Vision, Carney notices that most of Capra’s critics up till then had read, translated and interpreted Capra's visions into a “series of sociological generalisations”37 which, in the case of Capra, would be “using the films to discuss social conditions during the Depression, power relations between men and women, or other aspects or pre- or post-war American society.”38 Within these frames of reference, the critics were arguing how to appraise and treat Capra’s movies. On the negative side, the director was accused of being a populist (in the negative sense of the term), too naïve and too popular to be treated seriously. As early as the 1940s Richard Griffith called Capra’s films “fantasies of good will,” as they proclaimed the naïve belief that “the kindness of heart is in itself enough to banish injustice and cruelty from the world.”39 Capra scholar Leland Poague claims that in his articles Griffith goes as far as to imply that “Capra is naïve at best, politically pernicious at worst, and intellectually bankrupt in any case.”40 The second group of critics admits the alleged naivety of Capra’s movies, but does not perceive it as a negative trait. Lewis Jacobs believes that their “naivety” is the reason for their popularity and the source of entertainment and appeal to the audience. Poague claims, contrary to 37

Carney, American Vision, XIV. Carney, American Vision, XIV. 39 Richard Griffith “It's A Wonderful Life And Post-War Realism” in Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, Glatzer and Raeburn (ed.), 162. 40 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 17. 38

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

19

Griffith, that Capra is not about politics at all, and he looks for literary qualities and artistic values in the director's works. He also praises Capra's optimism and enthusiasm and believes them to be qualities capable of melting the hearts of the most cynical realists.41 Surprisingly, as a confirmed pessimist, Graham Greene was won over by Capra’s optimism and complements this group too. In his 1936 review of Mr. Deeds Goes To Town, discussing the theme of happy endings, the critic makes the comparison of Mr. Deeds and Fritz Lang's Fury (1936). “Lang’s happy ending was imposed on him, we did not believe in it; Capra’s is natural and unforced,” he states.42 Two years later Greene continues the subject in reference to You Can't Take It With You: We may groan and blush as he [Capra] cuts his way remorselessly through all finer values to the fallible human heart, but infallibly he makes his appeal – by that great soft organ with its unreliable goodness and easy melancholy and baseless optimism. The cinema, a popular craft, can hardly be expected to do more.43

In his seminal The Comic Mind, Gerald Mast seems to share Greene’s view and, although he notices “a striking naiveté in [Capra's character's] handling of complex political, social, and moral issues,”44 he proclaims Capra “the supreme master of the comedy of sentiment, moralising, and idealisation.”45 Furthermore, he states that “the Capra comedies are among the most valuable sociological documents in the history of the American cinema.”46 In the 1970s Capra was rediscovered by television and the medium made it possible for Capra’'s movies, together with the works of other directors of the golden era of Hollywood, to reach an audience larger than ever before. This coincided with the publication of his autobiography, which drew Capra’s works to the attention of a brand new generation of viewers and, as I have already mentioned, allowed the director to stand in the limelight once more. Thirty years after World War II, Capra and his films were reevaluated by the critics and they gained an utterly fresh perspective from which they were approached and interpreted. The new 41

See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 19. Graham Greene ‘A Director Of Genius: Four Reviews’ in (ed.) Glatzer and Raeburn, Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, 111. 43 Greene “A Director Of Genius”, 115. 44 Gerald Mast, The Comic Mind: Comedy And The Movies (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1979), 259. 45 Mast, The Comic Mind, 259. 46 Mast, The Comic Mind, 259. 42

20

Chapter One

group of critics–including, among others, William Pechter, Andrew Bergman, and Stephen Handzo–looked for another level in Capra’s works and they claimed (in accordance with Capra’s original intentions) that the essence of his films was in their message. Bergman saw an artistic visionary in Capra and he perceived his films as an attempt to introduce the fairy tale-like American myth based on the unity of love, decency and neighbourly kindness, into reality.47 The critics of the 1970s began to defend Capra and suggest that the films were something more than “a figment of simple Pollyanna platitudes.”48 They noticed a penetrating picture of the times and an observant critique of society and social problems, as well as the complexity of the multilevel structure of Capra’s movies. Examining the dark nature of Capra’s films became fashionable and it was more and more frequently suggested that Capra’s world reflected the picture of contemporary times as seen through the eyes of an experienced man trying to cope with important everyday issues in a desperate struggle to salvage some innocence and decency within the realm of social, political and financial corruption. Looking at Capra’s works from such a perspective suggested that Capraesque sweetness and corniness were a superficial element of the director's art, and refuted the allegation of triviality of his subjects. It was Handzo who explicitly verbalised the thesis that Capra’s concern is not with politics but rather with individuals. In fact, it is conspicuous even in his populist movies. According to both Handzo and Poague “Capra is primarily a poet of the personal and the moral, not the social and the political,”49 and such an understanding of Capra’s works is probably the closest to Carney's auteuristic approach. For Carney, “Capra’s films document a variety of mid-twentieth-century ideological positions.”50 They are presented through creating and developing an individual, and ultimately allowing him to find his way of self-expression. Thus, the main focus of Capra’s films is the individual. Carney stresses Capra’s Emersonian faith “in the power of the human imagination [and spirit] to transform existing social forms and structures.”51 Such an approach leads us to look further for the deconstructionist tendencies in Capra’s works. Whereas a great number of critics assume that most obviously Capra’s 47

See Andrew Bergman “Frank Capra And Screwball Comedy” in (ed.) Glatzer and Raeburn, Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, 68-81; Poague, The Cinema of Frank Capra, 22. 48 Bosley Crowther quoted in Maland, Frank Capra, 131. 49 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 23. 50 Carney, American Vision, XIV. 51 Canrey, American Vision, 26.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

21

main concern is community and its values in the traditional meaning of the term, Carney states it is individualism. Along this line of thinking, Capra can be perceived as a natural deconstructionist in Jacques Derrida's understanding of the notion, and many of Capra’s films can be read as deconstructing community values by means of stressing individualism and the individual's ability to “reform social structures.”52 Carney claims that a vast number of critics up to that point, by means of stating generalisations about Capra’s movies, had badly influenced the prevailing interpretation of his films. Furthermore, he blames American critics and the discipline of cultural studies in general for the “loss” of the individual. “There are no individuals in cultural studies,” he says. “The system swallows up its members. There is no space left in which individuals can move freely.”53 Hence, Capra’s films are more often than not judged and interpreted only partially and from a narrow perspective. Carney points out: The critics translate the characters, actions, words, and images into a series of abstract meanings, moving from sensory experiences to symbolic significances, from perceptions to conceptions, from the physical to metaphysical, from the visible to invisible, from the realm of the known to that of a secret.54

Whereas the uniqueness of Capra, according to the critic, lies in his ability to create and present the grandeur of individual personality, identity, and consciousness and its power to escape controlling institutional and cultural structures and to find a way of self-expression.55 American Vision is a study of Capra’s individualism and auteurism. Carney proposes to view the movies from the perspective of art and discusses their artistic values, thus making a strong case for Capra as an important and serious artist. By the 1980s and 1990s few critics questioned Capra’s position in the pantheon of great Hollywood directors.56 And John Raeburn’s statement 52

Carney, American Vision, 27. Carney, American Vision, XV. 54 Carney, American Vision, XII. 55 See Carney, American Vision, XVI. 56 The exception was Capra's biography Frank Capra. The Catastrophe of Success by Joseph McBride published two years after Frank Capra's death. McBride tries to reveal Capra as an utter egoist and a self-promoter and to deny the director the title of the auteur. The book is, however, primarily a biographical account of Capra’s life and not the critical appraisal of the filmmaker's works. See McBride, Frank Capra. 53

22

Chapter One

claiming Capra’s place among the most “American” of all American directors, mostly ceased to be doubted or controversial. Most of the critics were in accordance that Capra’s films were communicating something vital. The articles and criticisms offered studies of various subjects and issues and proposed a number of ways of approaching Capra’s works. Charles Wolfe discussed Capra’s fascination with the media and its function in shaping the reality presented in his films. Richard Maltby claimed that Capra’s most famous comedy, It Happened One Night, was a response to the grim situation of the Great Depression, thus adding another dimension to the film that used to be treated as not much more than an entertaining light comedy at the time of its release. Charles Maland focused on the theme of despair and the circumstances that drove the protagonists into it.57 Sam Girgus and Wes Gehring discussed the subjects of democracy and the populist (in a positive sense) nature of Capra’s films.58 Gehring announced Capra to be “the archetypal author of the populist film comedy.”59 Leland Poague’s Another Frank Capra, the most philosophical criticism concerning Capra according to Carney, offered a “proto-feminist” reading of the director’s movies.60 In his book, Poague attempts to prove that Capra is a modernist, which, in the eyes of the critic, is conspicuous, among others, in the director's identification with his female characters. Another Frank Capra exposes a previously uncharted perspective on Capra's films and proposes quite a new reading of the works through the light of feminist psychology and trends. Eric Smoodin devoted his book to the study of the relationship between Capra and his audience, providing an interesting documentation of the development of film culture and audience studies. “It is undoubtedly true,” Smoodin quotes after Margaret Ferrand Thorp, “that no art has ever been so shaped and influenced by its audience as the art of cinema.”61 Hence, Smoodin aims at examining this relationship between the director and his viewers in order to identify and define it in terms of the mutual 57

See “Introduction” to Frank Capra: Authorship And The Studio System, Robert Sklar and Vito Zagarrio (ed.), (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998), 5-7. 58 See Wes D. Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1995); Sam B. Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance. 59 Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 2. 60 See Leland Poague, Another Frank Capra (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994). 61 Margaret Ferrand Thorp quoted in Eric Smoodin, Regarding Frank Capra: Audience, Celebrity, And American Film Studies (Durham: Duke University Press, 2005), 4.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

23

correlation and its influence upon both, the ultimate cinematic product and the group of the audience that would watch it.62 In his “It Is (Not) A Wonderful Life: For A Counter-reading Of Frank Capra”, Vito Zagarrio argued against Capra's corniness and delivered proofs indicating that, despite appearances, Capra's filmic universe was filled with unhappy endings, personal and social conflicts and catastrophes, and recurring suicidal motifs. Therefore, according to Zagarrio and others after him, Capra’s movies portrayed both an American Dream and an American Nightmare to an equal extent.63 A similar view is supported by Charles Maland in his article ‘Capra And The Abyss,’ in which he argues against Griffith's “fantasy of goodwill” statement. Maland points out that a large number of critics tend to observe only the happy endings of the films and in the process fail to acknowledge the nature of the dramatic conflicts leading to the happy climax.64 In his article, on the basis of the three discussed movies, American Madness, Mr Deeds, and Mr. Smith, Maland argues that the main heroes in all three of them are forced to struggle with despair at crucial moments. However, the reasons lie deeper than on a personal or romantic level. Maland formulates and argues a thesis that the conflicts and anxieties leading Capra heroes to the abyss are rooted in a fundamental tension in American middle-class ideology, grounded in the American past, […] and particularly wrenching during the Depression era. […] The tension, a key in helping to understand the abysses in and the appeal of Capra's films during the Depression era, concerns the conflict between private [self] interest and the public [common] good.65

Hence, the clue is in one of Capra’s most frequent motives, namely the relationship between the notions of capitalism and democracy and their power to influence the characters and the society. “In the moments of abyss [...],” Maland concludes, “we witness some of the most disturbing of our collective American nightmares.”66 62

See Smoodin, Regarding Frank Capra, 2. See Vito Zagarrio, “It Is (Not) A Wonderful Life: For A Counter-reading Of Frank Capra” in Frank Capra: Authorship And The Studio System, 64-93; Charles Maland “Capra And The Abyss: Self-interest Versus The Common Good In Depression America” in Frank Capra: Authorship And The Studio System, (ed.) Sklar and Zagarrio, 95-128. 64 Maland, “Capra And The Abyss”, 96-97. 65 Maland, “Capra And The Abyss”, 116. 66 Maland, “Capra And The Abyss”, 124. 63

24

Chapter One

In his book Hollywood Renaissance: The Cinema of Democracy in the Era of Ford, Capra, and Kazan, Sam Girgus provides us with an insight into the reinvigoration and renewal of American culture through the work of the directors. He explains this in relation to F.O. Mathiessen’s understanding of American Renaissance in literature. Matthiessen’s theory concerned the period of American national literary history between 185055 that, in the critic's opinion, marked America's “coming to its first maturity and offering its rightful heritage in the whole expanse of art and culture.”67 In his work he focuses on the subject of “the continuing renewal of American culture.”68 Girgus transfers these determinants into his vision and perception of the realm of Hollywood. He acknowledges the mid-nineteenth century writers like Emerson, Hawthorne, Thoreau, Whitman and Melville and their impact on the renewal of the culture of democracy, and points out that a similar phenomenon can be observed in Hollywood. Interestingly, the directors who Girgus enumerates as the representatives of the Hollywood Renaissance-John Ford, Frank Capra, Elia Kazan, Fred Zinnemann, William Wyler and Billy Wider-are either immigrants or rebels. Yet, Capra and Ford, in Girgus’ words: “are the key to the dialogue and debate over the meaning of America.”69 Moreover, he claims that their films “can readily be placed in the context of the writings and arguments of some of [the] most influential democratic thinkers.”70 Thus, Capra, among others, is once more viewed as a modernist and perceived as a speaker of democratic society. Richard. A. Blake presents a somewhat contradictory view to the above mentioned one. In his book Screening America: Reflections On Five Classic Films he claims directly: Capra has often been mistakenly pegged as a New Deal Democrat. He mistrusts government intervention in human affairs and tolerates it only when the individual, representing the common man, is able to purge the institutions of professional bureaucrats and profiteers and control the structures with old fashioned common sense. Solutions to problems in Capra's films never come from organizations; they come from individuals, even when they unite as an informal collective, the people, as in It's A Wonderful Life or Meet John Doe.71

67

F.O. Matthiessen quoted in Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance, 1. Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance, 2. 69 Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance, 7. 70 Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance, 7. 71 Richard A. Blake, Screening America: Reflections On Five Classic Films (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1991), 108. 68

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

25

Thus, Blake, in Carney fashion, stresses the importance of the individual, but combines it with their role in the community. This in turn can be linked to notions like social, ethnic and Catholic minorities, which are also quite frequently discussed in connection to Capra and his movies. Christopher Garbowski, in his study of small communities and neighbourhood values in America, mentions It's A Wonderful Life in the context of the concept of “social capital”. The term refers to “social networks and the norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness that arise from them.”72 In the eyes of the author, the community of Capra’s Bedford Falls is a perfect example of the phenomenon and he cites Francis Fukuyama's observation of It's A Wonderful Life that mutual support and altruistic acts make the people better citizens and the whole community more humane. Garbowski points out that the theme of small community and neighbourhood has often been attributed to Capra’s ethnic and religious background.73 Similarly, Lee Lordeaux argues that the ending of It's A Wonderful Life shows that George Bailey has learned “to fully appreciate the Italian familial identity–in social ethics, in sacrificial mediation and in the film’s communal celebration.”74 Lordeaux’s interpretation seems a bit far-fetched, however. Capra, Italian born and certainly aware of the ethnic issues and presenting it on several occasions in his movies, felt American and in his films was mostly dealing with the ethos of the American Dream. Nevertheless, the concept of Capra’s community presented by Lordeaux reflects to a large extent what Garbowski claims to be a realisation of social capital. The religious aspect of Capra’s movies has also been analysed by a number of critics. Although Capra in his autobiography refers to religion and even openly talks about his conversion back to Catholicism, and even though this fact often seemed to provide an excuse for the critics to interpret his movies in religious terms and to call characters like John Doe Christ-figures, Blake argues that Capra “seems to be drawing on popular mythology rather than theology.”75 In support of this thesis he recalls the character of Clarence, the angel from It's A Wonderful Life, who, according to Blake, is more a fairy-tale character than a religious one. Further on he recalls four of Capra’s allegedly Christ-heroes - Doe, Smith, 72 Robert Putnam quoted in Christopher Garbowski, Pursuits Of Happiness. The American Dream Civil Society Religion And Popular Culture (Lublin: Maria Curie-Skáodowska University Press, 2008), 107. 73 See Garbowski, Pursuits Of Happiness, 106. 74 Lee Lordeaux, Italian And Irish Filmmakers In America: Ford, Capra, Coppola, And Scorsese (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1990), 158. 75 Blake, Screening America, 108.

26

Chapter One

Deeds and Bailey - and interprets their actions as moral and altruistic. However, Blake states that the choice between virtue and evil is not an exclusively Christian doctrine and to cast the characters in the role of Christ-figures limits Capra's message too narrowly.76 To support his view, Blake discusses the case of another Hollywood director, Woody Allen, and argues similarly that the fact that the director is Jewish does not automatically imply that his films present the Jewish experience exclusively. As an artist, the critic states, “Woody Allen explores the universal human condition.”77 And the same seems to apply in the case of Capra. An additional scholar, Joe Saltzman, devoted his studies to another interesting aspect of Capra's movies, namely the recurring images of journalism and journalists. In his book he claims that Capra movie journalists of the 1930s and 1940s “resemble their counterparts in contemporary television and media.”78 Hence, his book constitutes a thorough examination of Capra’s male and female characters linked to the profession, the editors, and the publishers and media tycoons. The author presents and scrutinises the heroes one by one and indicates how they created and shaped the image of people involved in the media in twentieth century popular culture. Having sketched and examined the number of journalistic types occurring in the movies, Saltzman claims that, although the patterns have undergone some subtle alterations throughout the years, the essentials remain the same. The picture of people of the press and of the media in general are equally negative or at least suspicious in today's movies as they were back in Capra times. “The Capra journalist villain is alive and well into the twenty-first century,”79 Saltzman notes, and he argues the point by providing examples of numerous Hollywood postCapra films. Nevertheless, the author acknowledges the fact that, despite Capra's general mistrust towards the profession, in some of the films the director also displayed some affection for journalists, like Peter Warne in It Happened One Night or Babe Bennett in Mr. Deeds Goes To Town. These are, however, the types who in the course of the movie undergo a transformation, reject cynicism, and “repent their sins.”80 Other media representatives are those who, against the ethics of the profession, betray the public trust and act against democracy. According to Saltzman, 76

Blake, Screening America, 110. Blake, Screening America, 100. 78 Joe Saltzman, Frank Capra And The Image Of The Journalist In American Film (Los Angeles: The Norman Lear Center USC, 2002), 143. 79 Saltzman, Frank Capra And The Image Of The Journalist, 145. 80 Saltzman, Frank Capra And The Image Of The Journalist, 144. 77

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

27

“whether it is a journalist or a politician who does the dirty deed, it is so despicable that it lingers and festers in the memory, gradually overwhelming any heroic act.”81 And, in Saltzman’s opinion, this is the reason why Capra's characters like Jim Taylor in Mr. Deeds, or D.B. Norton in Meet John Doe seem “as real today as they did when they were created. Their goals and tactics are familiar to everyone, and real-life parallels in modern media abound.”82 Thus, once more, Capra’s movies are proved to be timeless. It is interesting to note that Capra has recently attracted the attention of Polish cultural studies and film scholars as well, and in 2006 alone the films of the director were discussed in three publications. GraĪyna Stachówna acquainted Polish readers with the character of the idealistic Senator Jefferson Smith.83 Krzysztof Ociepa offered a generally informative picture of Capra’s career and focused on the populist trilogy, which he interpreted from the historical and sociological point of view. Ociepa claims that Capra’s films are the sign of a building of a new American identity consisting of all the hitherto existing myths, but also complemented by the experiences of lower class members and immigrant communities.84 The third and perhaps the most analytical critical work in Polish is ElĪbieta Ostrowska-Chmura’s chapter in Mistrzowie kina amerykaĔskiego (American Film Masters) which the author devotes to theories in the spirit of Carney and Zagarrio, studying the motif of searching for the lost identity and the theme of American dreams and nightmares.85 Irrespective of the subject of the studies, most of the above-mentioned critical works are based on the conviction that Capra is not merely a director of his films, but an auteur as well, and that an individual and the power of creative individual performance constitute the core of his movies.

81

Saltzman, Frank Capra And The Image Of The Journalist, 146. Saltzman, Frank Capra And The Image Of The Journalist, 146. 83 See GraĪyna Stachówna, Wáadcy wyobraĨni. Sáawni bohaterowie filmowi (Kraków: Znak, 2006), 298-302. 84 See Krzysztof Ociepa, „Ameryka New Dealu w stylu caprasque: Pan z milionami, Mr. Smith jedzie do Waszyngtonu i Obywatel John Doe Franka Capry” in Kino amerykaĔskie: Dzieáa, (ed.) ElĪbieta Durys and Konrad Klejsa (Kraków: Wydawnictwo Rabid, 2006), 9-45. 85 See ElĪbieta Ostrowska-Chmura „Frank Capra–amerykaĔskie marzenia i koszmary” in Mistrzowie kina amerykaĔskiego: klasycy, (ed.) àukasz Plesnar and Rafaá Syska (Kraków: Rabid, 2006), 181-207. 82

28

Chapter One

The aspect of cultural studies concerning Capra would be incomplete without mentioning the broad and fashionable subject of popular culture as well as the closely connected notion of optimism. Therefore, it is interesting to look at Frank Capra from the perspective of the latest trends and ways of interpreting the pop culture phenomenon. As I have already mentioned, in the past, Capra was frequently criticised for being too corny and too optimistic to be treated seriously. However, in her article ‘A Defence Of Popular Culture’, Mary P. Nichols claims that popular culture may be “popular, but not simple. [...] Popular audiences demand hope, not because they refuse to face reality, but because their diverse experiences teach the complexities of reality.”86 Hence, the aim of pop culture is to provide relief to ordinary life. Nichols concludes the article as follows: Popular culture is popular because it resonates with life. At its worst it resonates with the lowest, most vulgar, or most trivial aspects of life, but at its best, it appeals to life's complexity, its nobility, and its wisdom. If we fail to distinguish these different aspects of popular culture we are as guilty of simpleminded prejudice as those who would abandon the classics because they are old. The vitality of the classics is based on their reflection on human experience, an experience continually revealed to us if we are wise enough to look for it.87

The above view can also be applied to Capra’s works and, as such, it constitutes the defence of the director and the rebuttal of one of the oldest arguments against Capra. The original intention of the term Capracorn was to emphasise the alleged triviality of the artist’s films and to diminish the uniqueness of his directorial style. However, Capracorn was nothing other than a synonym for “feel-good movies”, and these in turn are nowadays considered to be the vital part of one of the most influential cultural trends of the twentieth and the twenty-first centuries, namely pop culture. Stephen Brown goes so far as to claim that “elements like feel good, optimism and hope have some correspondence to theological terms such as glory, the Kingdom of God and Eschatology.”88 In his article, he argues the presence of all of them in Capra’s films. With Capra, Brown argues,

86

Mary P. Nichols, “A Defense Of Popular Culture” Academic Questions, vol. 13, no. 1 (Winter 1999-2000), 76. 87 Nichols, “A Defence Of Popular Culture”, 78. 88 Stephen Brown, “Optimism, Hope, And Feelgood Movies: The Capra Connection” in Explorations In Theology And Film. Movies And Meaning, (ed.) Clive Marsh and Gaye Ortiz, (Malden: Blackwell Publishers, 1997), 219.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

29

they [the films] seem to suggest that life is not a totally meaningless and random existence if looked at from the point of view of the end. In that context, feeling good, optimistic and hopeful can continue to have an intellectual respectability among filmmakers.89

Capra’s optimism and the feel-good factor of his movies can be further vindicated by the recently developed and cultivated (by Martin Seligman) theory of positive psychology, aiming at establishing and implementing a set of positive “virtues” into everyday life in order to provide an individual with everyday happiness. Positive psychology emphasizes traits that promote happiness as well as well-being, as well as character strengths such as optimism, kindness, resilience, persistence and gratitude. These positive characteristics, sometimes called 'character strengths' or even 'ego strengths' […] will be recognised […] as names for what used to be called 'the virtues'.90

Therefore, in the light of positive psychology, the above-mentioned virtues are necessary for the sake of building a good character and becoming a good person on many levels. Character strengths, as Paul Vitz states, are the main components making up the virtues. For instance, he explains, “the virtue of humanity involves the character strengths of love (e.g., valuing close relations with others), kindness (e.g., generosity and nurturance), and social intelligence (e.g., emotional intelligence and sensitivity).”91 In their book Character Strengths And Virtues: A Handbook And Classification, the psychologists Christopher Peterson and Martin Seligman enumerate a list of six core virtues which, according to Vitz, can be all linked to more general terms: wisdom and knowledge is very close to the traditional virtue of prudence; humanity is close to charity; courage, justice and temperance have not changed their names; and their sixth virtue, transcendence, is not far from hope.92

Thus, the above psychological theory provides yet one more argument in favour of Capra and Capraesque characters. The heroes of his films Longfellow Deeds, Jefferson Smith, George Bailey and many others seem to have ruled their lives according to the “virtues” long before they 89

Brown, ‘Optimism, Hope, And Feel-good Movies’, 232. Paul C.Vitz, ‘Psychology In Recovery’, First Things, No. 151 (2005): 19. 91 Vitz, “Psychology In Recovery”, 20. 92 Vitz, “Psychology In Recovery”, 20. 90

30

Chapter One

were classified and named by Peterson and Seligman. The infamous Capracorn was all about optimism, hope and aiming to achieve one's dreams and happiness here in this life. Today, after many decades, both Capra audiences and critics tend to agree that there is much more to Capra than meets the eye at the first casual view of his films. The Capra world is always a multidimensional one. As Brown accurately points out, “many directors successfully maintain a credible hope amidst human suffering. Few can do it with such a light a touch as Capra.”93

The Capra Legacy The name of Frank Capra today brings to mind Hollywood-related keywords like screwball, romantic, and populist comedy, feel-good movies, or the Capra touch and the Capra tradition. It has already been several years since cinema critics and cultural studies scholars of the end of the twentieth and the beginning of the twenty-first century started to pose the question of whether, and to what extent, Capra's influence can be found in present-day cinema. Are the films in the Capra tradition still being made today? Attempts to provide the answer to the above question have been made in numerous publications. Wes D. Gehring in his book Populism And The Capra Legacy focuses on the subject of populism and Capra’s populist movies. The author enumerates and examines several post-Capra movies such as The Electric Horseman (1979), Field Of Dreams (1989), and Dave (1993) amongst others, and argues that the elements of the Capra touch is present in each of them. This trilogy, as Gehring treats the above set of films, “represents mainstream extensions of the Capra tradition.”94 He further applies the populist “touchstone” to the trilogy in order to identify Capra’s style in it. The Electric Horseman, in the eyes of the critic, “is an updated look at a less idealised populist hero.”95 More elements can be easily found in the plot: the hero is a country boy who, like the Capraesque Smith, Deeds, and Doe, is uprooted from his natural environment and forced to perform an unfamiliar public role. Similarly, as in the Capra world before, the city becomes the symbol of evil. Field Of Dreams constitutes a mix of Capraesque populism and feel-good fantasy due to, among others, emphasizing the values of family and tradition as the factors which identify the individual. As well as conveying the traditional dichotomy 93

Brown, “Optimism, Hope, and Feelgood Movies”, 228. Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 54. 95 Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 29. 94

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

31

between good and evil, Gehring claims that the film is “a baseball version of Capra's populist fantasy It's A Wonderful Life.”96 Dave, on the other hand, is a reflection of the political populism of Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. The Capra legacy is also alive in the currently tremendously popular genre of romantic comedies. While a number of them are being produced every year, and many of them continue to reach the status of box office hits, the basic formula has been surprisingly stable for decades. Romantic comedies are still based on the feel-good element and the assumption that love can face anything and is capable of conquering any obstacle, as well as on Capra's belief that “good fortune comes to one who has been unfairly treated.”97 To prove the point it is enough to recall such titles as Pretty Woman (1990) or the more recent example of Maid In Manhattan (2002), which are both modern versions of Capra's favourite Cinderella motif in his Lady For A Day vein (1933). “We are meant to be optimistic,”98 Brown states in relation to the subject of feel-good movies. Nothing is beyond reach if we allow love to be the guiding force of our lives. Cinderella can marry a prince, even if the prince is a millionaire and Cinderella, as in Pretty Woman, is a prostitute (Julia Roberts), or a hotel maid (Jennifer Lopez), as in Maid In Manhattan. The screwball comedy genre has not been forgotten in the second half of the twentieth century either. Peter Bogdanovich’s film What's Up, Doc? (1972) is comprised of the essential screwball elements like its unconventional screwball heroine (Barbra Streisand), mistaken identities, a crime, police chase, fast dialogues, visual humour, and even (since it is Streisand in the main role) the performing of a song. Bogdanovich’s film is a direct homage to the classic screwball genre. In his book Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy Gehring suggests the title of another comedy, which in his opinion is even closer to the Capra tradition than What's Up, Doc?, namely Runaway Bride (1999). And indeed it is not difficult to notice thematic parallels between Runaway Bride and Capra's It Happened One Night (1934). As in the previous case, all the pivotal elements are here: the screwball heroine: a runaway bride (Julia Roberts); the hero (Richard Gere), a reporter who, like Capra’s Peter Warne (Clark Gable) before him, searches for the journalistic scoop and the Capraesque American small town. Moreover, according to Gehring, as in the case of It Happened One Night, although Runaway Bride starts out as a screwball comedy and is built on numerous screwball paradigms, as the plot unfolds it dovetails 96

Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 15. Brown, “Optimism, Hope, And Feelgood Movies”, 224. 98 Brown, “Optimism, Hope, And Feelgood Movies”, 224. 97

32

Chapter One

into other genres like romantic comedy and melodrama.99 Most recently, conspicuous screwball elements can be traced in the smash hit trilogy Meet The Parents (2000), Meet The Fockers (2004), and Little Fockers (2010). Interestingly, however, the formula seems to have undergone slight alterations in this case. In the above modern version of screwballs, the hero pattern has been changed and the traditional zany features are assigned to the parents of the main couple. Therefore, what we witness here is the reversal of the roles. All that the romantic couple wants is to have a “normal” life together. To achieve this goal, however, they have to fight the obstacle in the shape of their eccentric parents, who seem to be determined to change the life of their “boring” children and make them live it according to their rules. Funnily enough, the parents, played by Streisand, DeNiro, and Hoffman, are a generation with roots in the golden era of screwball comedies. Streisand, of course, as I have already mentioned had played a similar role before. Such a reversal, we can argue, is not entirely a novelty. It echoes the motif present in Capra’s Arsenic And Old Lace (1944), in which a young protagonist (Cary Grant) is desperately trying to put a stop to the criminal affairs of his zany elderly aunts (Josephine Hull and Jean Adair). There are many Capraesque themes, motifs and character types to be encountered in Hollywood cinema today. Saltzman enumerates and examines various examples of media related types,100 but there are others, such as, for instance, cold-blooded, greedy tycoons, or the “Cinderella man” hero. Moreover, in 2002 the remake of Capra's Mr. Deeds Goes To Town was released under the title Mr. Deeds and featured the box-office Hollywood stars Adam Sandler and Winona Ryder. The plot is shifted to contemporary times, and some slang expressions are applied to satisfy the needs and expectations of a modern young viewer, but a great deal of the scenes are an exact copy of Capra’s masterpiece. Coincidentally, in the same year, one more homage was paid to Capra by the famous American popular culture team of Jim Henson, shortly after Henson’s death. The plot of It's A Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie (2002) takes place on Christmas Eve and presents Kermit the Frog faced with a heartbreaking task of informing his friends that the legendary Muppet Theatre is being shut down due to its financial ruin. The viewer is offered a retrospective summary of the events and Kermit’s desperate struggles to save the theatre from a fraudulent and villainous banker (Joan Cusack), after the angel (David Arquette) intervenes on behalf of Kermit 99

See Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy. Charting The Difference (Lanham: Scarecrow Press, 2002), 159. 100 See Saltzman, Frank Capra And The Image Of The Journalist.

Frank Capra: The Artist and his Films

33

to the Almighty (Whoopi Goldberg), who decides to examine the facts which led the poor amphibian to utter despair. At a certain point Kermit proclaims George Bailey's famous words that everything and everyone would be better off without him. Obviously, as in the case of It's A Wonderful Life, things end up well for Kermit and his theatre and the next generation of young viewers is being brought up on Capra legacy. Above all, the Capraesque hope, optimism and an affirmation of life can be spotted in more than one modern movie. “There is unashamed hope in The Fisher King [1991], as in It's A Wonderful Life,”101 Brown claims. The title hero of Forrest Gump (1994) states on several occasions: “Life's a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get.” Yet, according to Brown, the statement does not necessarily suggest the randomness and chaos of life. Brown assures us that, in fact, it is quite the opposite: Forrest again and again finds himself thrust into the centre of America's historic moments. […] We see him meeting Presidents, rock stars, bringing influence to bear on some of them. Like Capra's hero [George Bailey], his life touches so many other lives. Forrest's encounters suggest that there is no such thing as accidents. 102

Thus, Capra’s message that life really can be wonderful, and that "anything is possible through the promise of a second chance,"103 lives on and is still up-to-date in the second decade of the twenty-first century. The enduring popularity of Capra’s films among the critics and the audience alike suggests that the director indeed succeeded in making movies that reach the hearts and change the lives of his audience. In the time of Capra’s revival, the director John Cassavetes pronounced the words that were soon to become one of the most frequently repeated quotes in the context of Frank Capra and his role in portraying America and propagating the American myth. “Maybe there really wasn't an America, maybe it was only Frank Capra,” Cassavetes claimed.104 Opinions like this constitute a clear indication of how the perception of Capra’s works and the director as an artist have changed and evolved throughout the years, and prove that a number of Capra’s films resist the passage of time and changing cultural trends. In the following chapters I am going to refer to a number of critical 101

Brown, “Optimism, Hope, And Feelgood Movies”, 230. Brown, “Optimism, Hope, And Feelgood Movies”, 231. 103 Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 113. 104 John Cassavetes quoted in Preface to Maland, Frank Capra. 102

34

Chapter One

works and various, often contradictory, opinions concerning Frank Capra and his artistic legacy. My aim, however, is not to prove that Capra was an important director since this fact, I believe, has already been confirmed and acknowledged. In my book I will attempt to interpret the Capra universe respecting both the social and populist reading of his works, as well as Carney’s and post-Carney theses claiming that an individual and his struggles against an oppressive reality to be the essence of Capra’s films. Therefore, I will endeavour to indicate that Capra’s films are multidimensional on many levels, as they comprise a mixture of “Capracorn” fairytale-like optimism and the dark nightmarish visions of reality. I perceive Capra’s world as a romantic universe in which dreams intertwine with the fear of unfulfillment and of a loss of innocence in the process of gaining experience. Hence, I propose to examine the chosen Capra’s movies on three levels (paradise, purgatory and inferno) as proposed by Francesca Aran Murphy in her Dante-based interpretation of the comic universe.

CHAPTER TWO COMEDY AND ROMANCE IN LITERATURE AND FILM

Before I begin a detailed analysis of the romantic reality in the chosen movies of Frank Capra, I would like to focus on the theoretical background of the genres of comedy and romance in literature and film. Therefore, this chapter will be devoted to literary comedy and romance and their evolution through the ages. In the second part of the chapter I will present a Hollywood realisation of both genres and discuss three types of film comedies connected to Capra, i.e. romantic comedy, screwball comedy and populist comedy. The chapter will be concluded with a short presentation of the theories of emotions, audience, laughter, and morals as concepts closely related to the general subject of comedy and romance.

Comedy A better understanding of comedy demands taking at least a basic look at the history of the genre. In The Cinema of Frank Capra, Leland A. Poague stresses the existence of two main types of comedy that, by necessity, need to be taken into consideration, namely: “clown–oriented comedy of the Aristophanic and Chaplinsque kind (from the cinematic point of view), and plot-oriented comedy of the Shakespearean or Jonsonian kind.”1 In short, what I am initially going to discuss are the general features of the two kinds of literary comedies, the similarities and, subsequently, the differences between them. A great deal of research on the subject of comedy has been done throughout the years of the genre’s tremendous popularity. For the sake of my thesis one of the most fundamental studies is the anthropological examination started by Francis Cornford in The Origins of Attic Comedy

1

Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 25.

36

Chapter Two

(1914).2 The analysis deals with many significant elements of comedy elaborated on the basis of the works of Aristophanes (448–388 BC), the poet of the Peloponnesian War, who is now considered to be the founder of what we call the Old Comedy. Cornford persuasively indicates and systematises comic forms and conventions. As Poague notices, “Cornford demonstrates that in the case of Aristophanes comic conventions provide both the structural bones and the emotional lifeblood of the dramatic comedy.”3 On the subject of the source of the European comedy, he agrees with Aristotle’s thesis that the core of the genre lies in a fertility ritual and is connected to a tradition of phallic songs which were a part of Dionysian festivals.4 In the next part of his thesis, Cornford lists the six formal elements of an Aristophanic play. These are: the prologue (the introduction of the problem); the parados (marking the entrance of the chorus); the agon (a debate between the protagonist (the hero) and the antagonist (the villain); the prabasis (choral interlude when the leader often addresses the audience and abuses them); the episodes of the sacrifice and feasting; and finally the komos and marriage of the protagonist and his bride (the ritual reward).5 As Cornford further marks, “this canonical plot-formula preserves the stereotyped action of a ritual or folk drama, older than the literary comedy, and of a pattern well known to us from other sources”.6 Again, folk tradition is closely connected to the above-mentioned fertility rites. Bearing this relation in mind Cornford recalls several such traditional fertility rituals’ types: to begin with the expulsion of Death/bringing in of Life. The above-mentioned rite is the symbolic expulsion of an actor from the community. The expelled person becomes the scapegoat or a Christ– like figure suffering for the sins of the whole community. The bringing in of life, being a reversal of the previous process, is the complement of the whole ritual. It symbolizes fertility, harvest, and becomes a symbol of the “green world” which, looking further, is the opposition of sterility and a sterile world. The second fertility ritual, according to Cornford, is the struggle of Summer and Winter, which both become personified in order to indicate the difference between fertility and sterility, as well. They follow each 2

See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 25. Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 26. 4 See Arystoteles, Poetyka (Wrocáaw: Zakáad Narodowy im. OssoliĔskich, 1989), 13. 5 See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 26-27. 6 Francis Cornford quoted in Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 27. 3

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

37

other in the course of the cycle of time. The similar type is the motif of struggle of the Young and the Old Kings. What is often remarked, the conflict may be interpreted as the Oedipal conflict between the father and the son. Usually the winner gets the kingdom, as well as the hand of a princes or queen, which eventually leads to the ritual marriage. The next ritual type is the Death and Resurrection motif, which stresses both the Aristophanic agon and the episodes of sacrifice and feasting. The pattern involves the hero being slain, and whose triumph can only be brought about by his resurrection. This motif once more echoes the pattern of a scapegoat and Christ-like figure. Subsequently, we arrive at the final Aristophanic plot element: the ritual marriage deriving from the marriage of Heaven and Earth. This is the element which has virtually never ceased to appear in the European comic tradition. Continuing the discussion of the history of comedy, it is necessary to mention the theory of Northrop Frye, which basically follows the same lines as the explorations of Francis Cornford but with a difference of stress. Whereas Cornford dealt with the Old Comedy of Aristophanes, Frye deals with the New Comedy of Menander to Shakespeare. In his essay devoted to comic fictional modes, Fry presents the following pattern of forming the comic world: New Comedy normally presents an erotic intrigue between a young man and a young woman which is blocked by some kind of opposition, usually parental, and resolved by a twist in the plot which is the comic plot of Aristotle’s “discovery” […]. At the beginning of the play the forces thwarting the hero are in control of the play’s society, but after a discovery in which the hero becomes wealthy or the heroine respectable, a new society crystallizes on the stage around the hero and his bride. The action of the comedy thus moves towards the incorporation of the hero into the society he naturally fits.7

Similarly to Cornford, Fry then presents his interpretation in the light of existing ritualistic elements. He enumerates three of the most evident ones: the agon, sacrifice and feasting, along with marriage and komos. While marriage and komos remain relatively close to the Aristophanic elements, the agon has certainly undergone some modifications. If we look at Shakespeare’s plays we will find that the Aristophanic debate between the hero and the villain acquires the shape of the rhetorical defeat of evil principles preceded by the recognition or discovery of the 7

Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism, 44.

38

Chapter Two

source of evil. In the New Comedy, “anticomic sterility is not personified as a single figure, but becomes a shared social ‘humour’.”8 Some changes are also observable in the case of the sacrifice and feasting element. Frye argues that they remain, in fact, more faithful to its ritual tradition than in Aristophanic works. Both in Shakespeare and in Aristophanes there are protagonists who undergo a sort of rejuvenation through death and resurrection rituals; however, the aim of such character building is different. While in Aristophanes such a transformation mainly serves a satirical purpose, in Shakespeare it is not a transformation as such, but rather a confusion of identity leading the main protagonist to the final discovery and social renewal which is preceded by the course of many misfortunes deriving from the ordinary flow of the comic action. Next to the idea of ritual, Fry argues, the term of myth should be mentioned. Myths accompany rituals, and those components combined together serve to express the comic wish for fertility.9 There is, however, an important difference between them to be noted. While the ritual tends to affect the world by mimetic power, which indeed can cause a real change in the universe, myths are the stories about the changes evolving in the universe, thus they primarily serve a descriptive function. The conclusion of this comparison is that both ritual and myth present the same story and share the same plot. What is important for the subject of comedy, however, is a resulting idea that when we can no longer observe belief in ritual, or we can clearly observe the gap between ritual and myth, we deal with a piece of writing about ritual and myth, and not ritual and myth themselves. This interpretation inevitably leads to an understanding of the fact that comedy is not a fertility ritual but it is rather about fertility rituals. It is a work of art deriving from the main structures and themes of ritualistic conventions. Upon further reflection it can be suggested that, through depicting a constant struggle between fertility and sterility, comedy serves as the mean of presenting various possibilities of how to maintain fertility in life.10 A very concise summary of the components of comedy has been provided by T. G. A. Nelson in his Introduction to Comedy.11 The author indicates the basic structural elements of the Old Comedy and the New Comedy modes, which may be illustrated by means of the following chart: 8

Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 29. See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 30. 10 See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 31. 11 T. G. A. Nelson, Comedy. An Introduction To Comedy In Literature, Drama, And Cinema (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990). 9

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

The Old Comedy (Aristophanic Comedy) x recurring formal features–the agon or dispute between contesting parties x skeletal plot x exuberant tone x fantastic and farcical incidents, slanging matches, cheerful obscenities, uninhibited political satire x interest in the community

39

The New Comedy (Menander To Shakespeare) x a scripted form of drama x the plot in which a young man and woman succeed in overcoming obstacles to their marriage x comic servants and rogues x interludes and improvisations x verbal and visual humour x interest in the family and the individual

Table 2-1

In his reflection upon this structure, Nelson states that comedy as such consists of two conflicting elements, namely: laughter and the general “movement of the story towards an ending characterized by harmony, festivity, and celebration.”12 A similar attempt to define the term of comedy has been made, among others, by Francesca Aran Murphy,13 who discusses the nature of the comic plot. She recalls the theory of Northrop Frye stating that the very nature of the comic plot is to follow an upward movement in the form of a U. In its downward graph–the first stroke of the U–the plot moves away from a good situation and toward conflict and suffering. In its upward graph, the second stroke, the plot turns toward happiness and communal festivity. […] In a dramatic action, each unfolding event drives the next, and is contained in it. In tragic drama, a coalition of fate and hubris are mobilizing the events. In comic drama, each scene is propelled forward by desire and by grace. At the summit of Frye’s U stands the recovery of community: the good city is what we desire most.14

The above quotation presents the most basic rules of the comic world. First of all, it reiterates the Aristotelian thesis, altered somewhat by Northrop Fry, stating that at the heart of the comic plot lie the conventions of the fertility ritual. While the necessity of fertility as 12

Nelson, Comedy, 22. See Francesca Aran Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation. 14 Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation, 4. 13

40

Chapter Two

opposed to sterility is probably the main element of comedy, there are other components of comic convention to be traced here as well. The ultimate target of the comic plot named in the quote, the “recovery of community”, recalls the already mentioned “marriage and comos” term. The community obviously has to undergo “resurrection” in order to recover. Certainly there is a wide variety of subjects the “resurrection” can refer to. It can be a victorious resurrection after an unhappy love, the conflict caused by the confusion of identities and social renewal after the happy reversal of the action, etc. Regardless, what is to be expected at the end of the comedy is the emergence of the desired “good city.” This very point brings us to the most crucial definition of the term comedy. The Greek word Komos or Komoidia literally means “a musical and dancing festivity”15 which, in short, one can understand as the positive conclusion of the protagonists’ struggles and happy reunion of the community in the “good city”. Such an interpretation indicates a clear association with the six components of the dramatic world elaborated on by Aristotle who enumerated: plot, character, diction, thought, spectacle, and song as the necessary parts (of the dramatic world).16 What I wish to discuss now is the plot, considered by Aristotle as the driving force of drama. As we see in Poetics, the plot can be either simple (haploid) or complex (peplegmenoi). A simple plot advances continually without any sudden interruptions, but in the case of a complex plot we deal with the dynamic action in which one can encounter reversal (peripetia) or recognition, or both. Aristotelian peripetia is the reverse of the protagonist’s situation by means of an unexpected event occurring in the story. Such a reversal is strongly connected to recognition, which simply means the hero’s passage from ignorance to knowledge; in other words, obtaining the awareness of some previously unknown information. Again, we can view the implementation of such a poetic device as one more means of leading the plot towards its ultimate finale which, in the case of comedy as I have already mentioned, is the reunion of the main protagonists and consequently the communal entrance to the “good city.” In practice, however, it is very difficult to maintain the above theory in its perfect form. A clear alteration to the discussed pattern can be found in Dante’s Divine Comedy. As Murphy cleverly suggests: “Dante articulated three realms of the comic imagination in the three stages of his journey to God. Comedies can be infernal, purgatorial, or paradisal.”17 The lowest, infernal level can be considered a black comedy. The 15

See Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation, 16. See Arystoteles, Poetyka, 20, 34. 17 Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation, 24. 16

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

41

protagonists of the infernal comedy are bound to encounter dark settings and the situations in which no helpers are provided. Experiences such as darkness, disasters and death frequently, likewise, constitute the universe of the infernal level. Despite the black humour of the infernal level, it still remains a comic world which has the power to evoke laughter in the audience. Purgatorial comedies present the characters heading toward their aims through a constant struggle. The task is easier, however, than in the case of the infernal comedy since the helpers, usually feminine, are present at this level. Murphy argues that purgatorial comedies are of a Quixotic type, since the plot often involves quests and suffering: “The characters are on their way to happiness, always on the verge of achieving their desire as the action concludes.”18 The paradisal level is the lightest type in the course of which the characters gain their aim with minimal effort. The overall tone of the comedy is light and the protagonists victoriously attain the “heavenly banquet” in the end. The paradisal level is “visionary comedy.”19 The division of Dante’s Divine Comedy and its later interpretations make us aware of the existing variety of the types of comedy. Thus, assuming that the above division can be applied to the analysis of comedy in general terms, it becomes evident that the previously discussed pattern of comedy, as elaborated by Aristotle, provides only one of the possible variants of the creation of the comic world. Hence, the term “comedy” becomes multidimensional and demands a profound examination in every case.

Romance Since there are some similarities and indeed an overlap between comedy and romance, the next part of my thesis will be devoted to the related mode of romance. At some point in his Anatomy of Criticism, Northrop Frye delivers a very brief, but at the same time, pithy description of the romantic reality. “The mode of romance,” Frye argues, “presents an idealized world: in romance heroes are brave, heroines beautiful, villains villainous, and the frustrations, ambiguities, and embarrassments of ordinary life are made little of.”20 Throughout the centuries some aspects of “romance” have undergone slight alterations; nevertheless, the basic 18

Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation, 24. Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation, 24. 20 Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism, 151. 19

42

Chapter Two

perception of the term has remained much the same. Therefore, it is possible to talk about a certain fundamental romantic pattern. The romantic plot together with its most crucial components, the adventure and quest, are the first of such stable elements. According to Frye there are three stages of the quest. Namely: the stage of a dangerous journey, the climactic struggle, and the exaltation of the hero.21 The first stage, therefore, means the adventure in the broad sense; the second stage, the struggle is usually some kind of battle or confrontation, either metaphorical or literal, in which there is only one victor. In some cases both the hero and the villain perish. Such a situation closes the romantic conflict between both protagonists but does not close the story itself, since the pattern requires the presence of the third stage, mainly the exaltation of the hero, whether he is alive or not. Thus, looking at the three stages altogether, we may recall the Greek terms respectively. The stage of journey and setting the conflict is to a large extent the Greek agon, the struggle and death is pathos, and finally the exaltation part is anagnorisis or discovery. According to the romantic pattern; dead or alive, the positive character finally becomes recognized as a hero. It is necessary to note that both the hero and the enemy are equally important in romance. This is, in part, due to the ever present reference to the opposition between the divine qualities of the hero and demonic qualities of the villain. Romantic characters are usually something more than ordinary humans. It is quite frequent that they empower some extraordinary abilities. The critics are concordant with the thesis that constructing the reality of a divine hero and a demonic villain bears clear reference to mythical tradition. Hence, in the character of the hero we can find associations with: “spring, dawn, order, fertility, vigour, and youth,” and, respectively, the villain is associated with “winter, darkness, confusion, sterility, moribund life, and old age.”22 However, apart from the above-mentioned main pair of romantic protagonists, there are also other types characteristic of the genre. Returning to the subject of quest and struggle, it is obvious that the hero fights for some superior ideal. This ideal is frequently personified in the figure of a woman, the damsel of his heart. She is usually pure and lovely and divinely beautiful and, therefore, goddess-like. This almost unearthly creature becomes the reason of the hero’s, and sometimes also of the villain’s, passion and determination. Love and desire of the soul become the main motives and aims of the protagonists’ existence. The feeling has 21 22

See Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism, 187. Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism, 187.

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

43

nothing to do with laws or logic, however. It seems to regulate life, even though at first it usually causes disintegration and emotional chaos. Despite all of the difficulties the hero has to tackle, romantic love possesses a healing power and is worth living and dying for. Lesley Brill describes the world of romance thus: “In the world of romance […] the ordinary constraints of natural law are loosened. As in dreams and nightmares, reality mixes with projections of desired anxiety.”23 He further indicates that, similarly to folk tales, romance is a world of talking animals and personified nature, the world of evil witches and magicians and other fairy creatures which suddenly become plausible and do not question the credibility of the story in any case. Moreover, these extraordinary characters fit into well established types; that is, the figure of a “good old king, unjustly disinherited prince or princess, evil magician, wicked stepmother.”24 Additionally, all these fairy tale characters are placed in a fairy tale-like setting. The romantic universe is mainly a fantastic one. It is a universe of mysterious castles inhabited by equally mysterious masters, it is the reality of whispers and love oaths, and fantastic adventures of errant knights and their divine damsels. At this juncture we should look comparatively at the modes of comedy and romance. It is quite clear that both modes have a number of points in common. They are both based on the second half of the mythic cycle, which moves from “death to rebirth, decadence to renewal, winter to spring, darkness to a new dawn.”25 This is the contrary movement to the corresponding modes of tragedy and irony which, according to Frye, are based on the first half of the natural cycle. The first similarity between comedy and romance to mention would be the fact that they both emphasize the triumph of life and renewal. In order to make further comparison of the two modes more clear, I will present it by means of the following table:

23

Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 6. Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 6. 25 Northrop Frye, A Natural Perspective (New York: Harcourt Brace &World, 1965), 121. 24

Chapter Two

44 COMEDY

ROMANCE

PLOT The comic plot consists of a series of comic intrigues and occurrences usually involving the comic malefemale couple.

PLOT The romantic plot is formed by a set of adventures which happen to the protagonist during the heroic quest he must undertake for the sake of defending his ideals.

The plot moves from the agon (comic intrigues) through the scenes of sacrifice and feasting to a comos and marriage (the ritual reward).

The plot, similarly to the comic one, moves from the agon (which in this case would be quest and journey), subsequently, however, changes its path to pathos (struggle and death motives), and finally to anagnorisis (the discovery and recognition of the hero).

The comic plot usually presumes comic characters to be inseparable from the community they belong to and, therefore, marriage towards which the action moves forms a guarantee of the community continuity, also in terms of the generations to come.

The term of continuity is understood in romance as an eternal ideal. Beauty and love acquire the rather platonic meaning of admiration and worship.

SETTING The action of the comedy is usually placed in a specific time frame and realistic setting.

SETTING The romantic universe usually lacks the sense of biological time and is placed in unrealistic, fantastic, and mysterious fairy tale-like setting.

PROTAGONISTS

PROTAGONISTS

Comic heroes are realistic figures who often fall victim to various intrigues of the villains. In spite of many difficulties, they finally (and usually) undergo the recognition phase which leads to the fate reversal and triumphal comos and marriage. Comic protagonists tend to be erotically oriented, rather than in the service of religious affection.

The romantic protagonist is a human being, nevertheless superior in degree to the others. He is an idealistically oriented chivalric knight errant type who fights dragons in order to serve his ideals often personified in the figure of the damsel he worships.

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

45

Comic villains are also realistic humans usually opposing the hero in order to interfere and block the hero’s way to the completion of his goal.

The romantic villain is a diabolic figure, either a human or a supernatural character possessing supernatural powers (a magician, a witch, or other fairy tale-like creature). His aim is to fight and destroy the romantic hero. Thus, the duel becomes unequal and therefore, in physical terms, it is doomed to be lost by the hero.

The comic heroine is also an ordinary human. She usually becomes the hero’s driving force and the reason for the whole comic commotion.

The romantic heroine is a damsel of extraordinary beauty. She is often a human; nevertheless she bears a clear analogy to a divine goddess who exists to be worshiped.

Table 2-226

The above table indicates all the main aspects of comedy and romance. It also shows how the two modes differ from each other and which elements can be considered common to both. The conclusion which can be inferred from the comparison confirms Frye’s thesis that they represent the same stage of the cycle of nature, as well as supporting the view that, in spite of certain differences, comedy and romance are indeed related to each other. As we will see in Hollywood narration, when we speak of romance their relation to comedy is even closer.

Hollywood So far I have been discussing comedy and romance in its original literary form–its origins and its features. This part of the chapter is going to be devoted to a radically different kind of narration, namely to cinema and its application of the two modes. Since the beginning of film history the genre of comedy has been practiced. It is the Depression era, however, which is considered to be the golden age of comedy’s development and it is during the Great Depression that the vast genre of “comedy” split into several subgenres classified 26 My comparison of comedy and romance relies on several sources (alphabetically): Brill, The Hitchcock Romance; Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism; Frye, A Natural Perspective; Northrop Frye, The Secular Scripture. A Study of the Structure of Romance (Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1976); Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra.

46

Chapter Two

according to the theme and the characters it presented.27 The split was the reflection of the historical and social situation in America and it also marked a certain transition in the perception of humour. However, in spite of the fact that cinema represents a radically different style to literature, film comedies combine many of the elements characteristic to previously discussed literary genres. By means of describing three major comedy streams which emerged during the 1930s-screwball comedy, romantic comedy and populist comedy-I am going to indicate how the pivotal literary structures have been incorporated into cinema. At the same time, the three film genres are closely connected to the major concern of my book; i.e. of Frank Capra and his movies. For the time being, however, I would like to concentrate on a basic theoretical sketch of comic Hollywood productions.

Screwball Comedy The term “screwball” in its original meaning refers to sport, to baseball specifically, and it describes a ball that moves in an unconventional or unexpected way. Therefore, the name itself suggests what sort of comedy the screwball genre is. It is also closely connected to the American political situation at the time the genre was born and its early representative films form a clear social commentary to the desperate time of the country during the Great Depression.28 On the subject of screwball stylistics, we have to mention the easy-tonotice combination of the typical silent comedy device of the sight gag (visual expression of face and gestures) with the crucial romantic comedy element, the witty dialogue.29 Such a merger resulted in the necessity of creating the figure of the comic antihero (who is to be found in the case of romantic comedy as well). Wes D. Gehring argues for the existence of five key component characteristics for comic antiheroes in screwball, namely: “abundant leisure time, childlike nature, basic male frustration (especially in relation to women), a general propensity for physical comedy, and a proclivity for parody and satire.”30 Since screwball comedy is usually set in the reality of the wealthy high society milieu, leisure time is available in its full range, while money (or the lack of it) is not the concern of the protagonist. The anticomic protagonist frequently happens to be an absentminded figure involved in an affair with a screwball heroine trying 27

See Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 4-11. See Geoff King, Film Comedy (London: Wallflower Press, 2002), 52. 29 See Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 10. 30 Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 29. 28

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

47

to fit him into her vision of a relationship. The phenomena we are discussing here can be called the reversal of the traditional relationship pattern. The roles of the man and woman are switched in such a way that it becomes typical for this cinematic genre. Thus, the woman becomes a dominant character, while the man is slightly childlike and immature and hence demands being taken care of: “the woman leads the charge while the male holds back in the manner of the stereotyped weaker sex.”31 Such a reversal rarely takes place in the related genre of romantic comedy. In other words, this kind of relationship can fit into the concept of the childhusband and mother-wife motif. Similarly, it is the woman who dominates and, from the perspective of being a childlike male, a screwball reality is a “salute to childhood.”32 On the other hand, such a situation is a source of frustration since the male constantly undergoes the process of ritual humiliation. And, in fact, this is the focal point of the screwball genre theme. Female characters turn out to be generally stronger than males. Heroines are prepared to face the zany and frequently illogical reality; males, however, have to cope with both the zany reality and zany females. These attempts are usually doomed to failure; nevertheless, the conflict that emerges from the male-female combats creates an ideal space for stylistic devices. Ghering attributes to the screwball antihero a “propensity for physical comedy.”33 I have already mentioned screwball’s connotations with the silent slapstick tradition. To make the picture complete, we could easily add some farcical elements (clearly referring to Aristophanic comic pattern), as well as the motif of romantic hide-and-seek to the visual side of the screwball, and the presence of the witty dialogues and an improbable zany plot.34 The paradoxical nature of the theme of love is worth discussing at this point. Although love is the driving force of the screwball plot, and being together is certainly the source of genuine fun for both of the protagonists, in the case of a screwball relationship, love is not infrequently diminished to triviality and additionally coloured with irony. Being the crucial point, it simultaneously becomes the subject of satire or even parody, and hence cannot be equalled with the romantic understanding of the term.

31

Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 34. Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 43. 33 Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 53. 34 See King, Film Comedy, 52-56. 32

48

Chapter Two

Romantic Comedy The above short description of the screwball genre contrasts with what I am going to discuss now. The most distinctive element of the romantic comedy is the theme of love, occupying the focal point of this movie genre. Although the element of fun is frequently strongly accented in the romantic comedy, love and affection remains a serious subject. Apart from the above-mentioned thematic focus, Gehring enumerates five pivotal aspects differentiating romantic comedy from its screwball counterpart. These include: “the accenting of sentiment over silly, a propensity for serious and/or melodramatic overtones, more realistic characters […], traditional dating ritual […], and slower story pacing.”35 Let us first investigate the subject of sentiment. The meaning of the term refers here to many dimensions of love. It highlights the importance of love in everyone’s life as well as the longing for some past lovers (especially in the case of the older figures, who frequently appear as a symbol of love’s purity). Sentiment is a promise of melancholic memories of idealized lovers and feelings. Once again the notion confirms that love, which is rather trivialized in the case of the screwball comedy, gains a different perception and role here. It no longer remains a silly adventure, but the aspect determining life at its core. Thus, obviously melodramatic overtones in romantic comedy seem normal, if not inevitable. Frequently love has to undergo a certain trial of credibility. Lovers, or at least one of them, have to prove that the feeling is genuine. And yet there is no guarantee of success. Contrary to the rules of screwball, the happy ending of love is never fully granted. Nevertheless, romantic comedy sends us a message that, in spite of all the heartaches and failures, love is worth fighting for. Romantic characters are more realistic and more believable than zany screwball heroes. Couples and families reflect a natural pattern more likely to be found in real life. Frequently the main protagonist has a close friend who helps in the most difficult struggles, serves as an advisor and also adds some humour to the situation the hero gets into, thus playing a significant role of a leaven and counterbalance to the serious tones of affairs of the heart. Perhaps the most striking difference between the two comedy types lies in the way the male–female relationship is treated. A slightly eccentric and dominating screwball heroine is replaced here by a caring and more “conventional” woman, although often slightly hesitant towards the idea of 35

Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 67.

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

49

stable mating (at some point at least). The male in a romantic comedy usually has to mature a bit, nevertheless it is he who is the stronger one, and it is he who, through the process of facing difficult choices and his own indecisiveness, eventually has the final word. Thus, the relationship pattern is more traditional, more male-directed and love-oriented. The final characteristic element of romantic comedy enumerated above is a slower story pacing. It is slower, of course, in relation to the pace of a screwball comedy. The aim of slowing the pace down is to maintain a sort of an emotional suspense based on the viewer’s uncertainty whether the couple is finally going to be together or not. It also marks the seriousness of various romantic choices, as well as the necessity of the protagonist’s contemplation of life which may result in the character’s “transformationthrough-love.”36 Such a device creates the impression of the plot’s reality, while in the case of screwball’s quick pace of action it is hardly possible to realize the actual improbability of the events. Gehring notes: Romantic comedy has much more to do with reality than its sister format, screwball comedy. […] [S]crewball comedy is a distraction from the real world while romantic comedy promises something special in the most familiar of settings […] the proverbial, ‘this could happen to me.’37

Let us assemble the characteristic features of romantic and screwball comedy by means of the following chart: SCREWBALL COMEDY

ROMANTIC COMEDY

x emphasis on fun and humour x physical comedy (sight gags referring to the silent movies era) x a zany improbable plot x propensity for black humour x lack of sentiment x love treated in a light manner x a male character suffering humiliations from a zany heroine x a reversed pattern of the dating ritual (an eccentric heroine dominates the man in a relationship) x a battle of the sexes x eccentric behaviour x quick plot pacing

x emphasis on love and sentiment x funny and witty dialogues x a reality-based story x sentimental and melodramatic overtone (pain and suffering may occur) x love treated very seriously x a more serious heroine x the traditional dating ritual (the man is dominant and active) x slower plot pacing

36 37

King, Film Comedy, 51. Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 95.

Chapter Two

50

SIMILARITIES x both types are based on the antihero development x a clear fascination with the upper-class milieu is visible x the characters are “ordinary human beings” x verbal interactions x witty and funny dialogues x both types were initially a response to the political situation of the Great Depression era Table 2-3 38

Populist Comedy One more type of comedy I would like to discuss at this point is populist comedy. However, in this case the term “populism” is not associated with the nineteenth century political movement, but rather with “a basic belief held by many people that the superior and majority will of the common man is forever threatened by the usurping, sophisticated, evil few.”39 The main alteration “populism” in comedy brings to the overall comedy genre is a thematic one. As the name itself suggests, this type of comedy touches the problem of a common man and the protagonist usually plays the part of a spokesman for the whole of society. Hence, apart from discussed comic pattern, populist comedy is broadened by its political and social context. Again, this genre flourished as a direct response to the gloomy social situation of the 1930s where Hollywood arguably became the most powerful and appealing means of expressing the voice of the populace. As David McMurrey argues, in the centre of the populist theme lies the evaluation of the common people as superior morally, socially, and physically to the other groups in society. Although this idea–which in many respects resembles the tradition of the primitive man or the noble savage–is a familiar one, the view of the lower classes, the workers, and the poor as qualitatively better in a variety of ways than other groups in society represents a reversal of traditional attitudes.40 38 The comparison is based on Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy and King, Film Comedy. 39 Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 1. 40 David McMurrey, The Populist Romance: A Study Of Michelet’s Le Peuple And Selected Novels Of Hugo, James, Zola, And Galdos (University of Texas at Austin, 1980), online on January 16, 2013 at: http://www.prismnet.com/~hcexres/dissertation/diss_michelet.html.

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

51

Other characteristics of populism are provided by Wes D. Gehring in his Populism and the Capra Legacy. The critic states that the term “populism” includes several elements which, gathered together, complement the above-mentioned theory, enabling us to mark a more definite borderline between populist comedy and other genres: Other characteristics frequently associated with this kind of populism include a celebration of rural and/or small town life, mythic-like leaders who have risen from the people (also reflecting the movement’s often patriotic nature), an adherence to traditional values and customs (mirroring the phenomenon’s strong sense of nostalgia), an anti-intellectualism (in an elitist sense), a faithfulness to honest labour, and a general optimism concerning both humanity’s potential for good and the importance of the individual.41

In summary, “populism” refers to a conviction of the constant repression of the common man and a need to reverse the order and hierarchy, as well as to a strong belief in hope, optimism, strength of community and social values, and the “second chance” that everyone should be given.42 The term “populism” frequently goes hand in hand with another one: namely “fantasy of good will”. The term has emerged from the same tradition and is usually used in reference to a quasi-realistic setting of most of the populist movies. As Gehring argues, the populist fantasy “becomes more palatable to an audience no longer required to believe realistically in the traditional dichotomy of good and evil at the heart of populism. This is because fantasy is based on a complete suspension of disbelief. One never stops to ask: ‘Is this possible?’ when witches fly in The Wizard of Oz (1939).”43 Good will is obviously connected with most of the main features of populism: naiveté, and optimistic ‘feel-good’ endings. It has been largely agreed upon that Frank Capra (whose case will be discussed later on) can be considered “the archetypal author of the populist film comedy.”44 The populist character cannot be discussed without mentioning the name of American famous cracker-barrel philosopher, actor, writer and a statesman, Will Rogers (1879-1935). Rogers (among others) was one of the favourites of the director John Ford. In the early 1930s he was a top box-office star–a portrait of a “proper” righteous American and a man of reason and simple-life wisdom. Rogers was also 41

Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 1. See Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 113. 43 Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 15. 44 Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 2. 42

52

Chapter Two

treasured as a spokesman and journalist and was even considered as a presidential candidate. In his article concerning Ford’s Judge Priest (1934) Gilberto Perez discusses Rogers’s status as follows: “Many people identified themselves with him. Or he identified himself with them: he was popular as a populist, homespun and down-to-earth, a figure of the common man speaking common sense.”45 That Will Rogers is still alive in the consciousness of American society is hardly surprising. Both his film characters as well as his real life attitude prove the thesis that it is possible to be a genuine populist and that populism as such does not have to be merely a “fantasy of good will,” but it can be truly implemented into reality. Rogers’s words: “It’s great to be great, but it’s greater to be human”46 can serve as a summing up of what we call populism. Will Rogers can be treated as an archetypal cracker-barrel populist hero. Such a character, according to Gehring, is characterized by five crucial elements: “political involvement, rural or small-town residency, employment, capability [to deal with any situation], and fatherly leadership.”47 Rogers seems to fit every single point of the above pattern. As we will have a chance to see later, the younger version of the archetype will become altered to some degree, usually by means of involvement in some love affair. Thus, the populist protagonist still remains a comic type getting into all sorts of troubles and frequently (if he is young enough) being enchanted by some female beauty. In the first place, however, he is a figure representing a “common man” fighting for his rights and reflecting his needs. Such a character is, in a way, a mixture of both previously mentioned comic sub-genres. He bears some features of a screwball hero: every now and then he tends to behave slightly immature and childlike, he is often dominated or at least assisted by some energetic woman, and he happens to act in a zany and unconventional way. It cannot be denied that a populist protagonist also remains in possession of some romantic features: he is sentimental and caring and, moreover, he is usually a Quixotic type ready to face and fight every difficulty, alone if need be, in the name of ideals and common good. Populist comedy is likely the most moralistic of the three discussed 45 Gilberto Perez, “Saying 'Ain't' And Playing 'Dixie': Rhetoric and Comedy In Judge Priest”, Raritan, Vol. 23, No. 4, (2004), 48. 46 Will Rogers quoted at Will Rogers Memorial Museums, online on January 16, 2013 at : http://www.willrogers.com/says/will_says.html. 47 Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 4.

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

53

types. The concept of traditional social attitudes’ reversal reflects increasing disappointment and criticism towards class division and general social injustice. On the other hand, the movies’ happy endings can be read as the manifestations of optimism and hope promising the improvement and revitalization of society. It is hard to deny that the populist hero mirrors the virtually universal longing of men for an ultimate “heavenly banquet” down here on earth, and therefore a figure appealing to audiences through his passionate faith in the ideals and overall goodness of human nature.

Audience Response: Emotions, Laughter, Morals Cinema, like literature, and in fact any sort of artistic expression, is built as a relationship between an artist and a viewer. The audience is an inseparable and essential element of the cinematic realm. Therefore, this section of the chapter will be devoted to the notion of the audience, together with the whole variety of issues the term covers, namely: emotions, laughter, and morals.

Emotions Many attempts to understand, to name, and to define the term “emotion” have been made. One of the ancient theories belongs to Plato who, in his Republic, presented the arguments against dramatic art. According to the philosopher, drama addresses the emotions of spectators, from which arises the danger of undermining the rule of reason in an individual, as emotions are irrational.48 Furthermore, if emotions constitute a threat to reason, they are also a threat to the whole community. Having proposed the above thesis, Plato perceived dramatic art as a perilous tool that encourages identification with the characters of the play promoting emotions like fear, pity and anxiety. The identification of such emotions could easily deny the importance of reason and stimulate emotional dispositions, which Plato considered unhealthy.49 Still, to this day, critics who might be called neo-Platonists argue for the need of, as Noël Carroll states, “censoring mass art”50 in the struggle to elevate reason over emotion. However, contemporary psychology tends to 48

See Noël Carroll, A Philosophy Of Mass Art (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 250. 49 Carroll, A Philosophy Of Mass Art, 251. 50 Carroll, A Philosophy Of Mass Art, 250.

54

Chapter Two

challenge Plato’s assumptions of treating emotions as irrational. The socalled cognitive theory of emotions not only suggests that reason and emotions are not opposed, but also that reason is a constituent element of emotions. Carroll suggests further that there are at least two components constituting emotion. These are a cognitive component (i.e. a belief or thought about the person, situation, or place based on some knowledge we possess), and a feeling component (a bodily change and/or phenomenological experience). Both of the components correlate with each other (i.e. the feeling state is triggered by the cognitive state). The resulting conclusion of the above theory becomes a direct contradiction to Plato’s notion, since “if reason/cognition is a constituent of an emotion, then an emotion cannot be the antithesis of reason/cognition.”51 Emotions, Carroll maintains, are necessarily governed by reason.52 One of the key areas that touches upon the problem of emotion in cinema is that of the viewer's identification with the characters. Contemporary criticisms also provide us with a modern interpretation of the theory of identification. The concern about the harmful influence of emotional identification with the characters of the drama, however, has been transferred to similar cinematic situations, and the phenomenon of identification is now blamed for “encourag[ing] audiences to take on particular anti-social emotions […].”53 In response to theory of identification, Carroll suggests another view. He argues that, in fact, it is hardly possible to identify emotionally with the protagonists by literally taking on their emotions. We can be happy (or unhappy) because of the outcome of events the characters are involved into, but we are happy in a way similar to onlookers or observers, not participants. Our emotions do not duplicate theirs, although our recognition of what their emotions are […] are ingredients in our rather different (not identical) emotional states.54

To sum up, the term “emotion” can be considered on a number of different levels. As Carroll indicates: Certain phenomena, such as fear, anger, patriotism, horror, admiration, sorrow, indignation, pity, envy, jealousy, reverence, awe, hatred, love, anxiety, shame, embarrassment, humiliation, comic amusement, and so on, 51

Carroll, A Philosophy Of Mass Art, 254. Carroll, A Philosophy Of Mass Art, 255. 53 Carroll, A Philosophy Of Mass Art, 260. 54 Carroll, A Philosophy Of Mass Art, 260. 52

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

55

are paradigms of what counts as emotion in ordinary language.55

Searching for a definition, however, we can state along with existing theories, that “emotion” consists of several inseparable constituents, namely somatic experiences, our beliefs and thoughts, as well as appraisal of events.56 We might further wonder what is it that makes the emotions play such a vital role in cinema. Carroll offers a suggestion that emotions keep us focused on the action and plot of a story, organize our attention upon the characters, as well as organize our perception of the events throughout the whole movie. In other words, the emotions are frequently used by filmmakers as a tool that helps to manage the audience’s attention.57 Following such a line of thinking, we come to the conclusion that emotions can be directed. Alfred Hitchcock, in a conversation with Francois Truffaut, proceeds even further by talking about directing the viewers.58 Thus, we have come to the point when another crucial item should be given attention, namely the audience and its role in cinema. While Hitchcock was playing with his audience, Frank Capra understood the audience’s importance in a different way. As Capra stated in his biography, he made the movies about people and for people (i.e. the audience).59 Therefore, his filmmaking process frequently turned out to be a dialogue between the director and his audience. Such an approach was especially transparent in the case of filming Capra’s Meet John Doe, where in search of the audience’s positive response, five different endings were created. Richard J. Gerrig and Deborah A. Prentice argue that “viewing means participating.”60 However, the statement only pertains to the psychological and emotional aspects of “participation”. Capra offered his audience participation in a much broader sense. It was no longer passive participation alone, but the possibility to identify with the artist. As I have already stated, Frank Capra, a widely recognized populist 55

Noël Carroll, “Film, Emotion, And Genre”, Passionate Views: Film, Cognition, And Emotion, (ed.) Carl Plantiga and Greg M. Smith (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999), 22. 56 Noël Carroll, Filozofia Horroru (GdaĔsk: Sáowo/obraz terytoria), 2004. 57 See Carroll, A Philosophy Of Mass Art, 249, 269. 58 See Francois Truffaut, Hitchcock/Truffaut, translated by Tadeusz Lubelski (Izabelin: ĝwiat Literacki, 2005), 256. 59 See Capra, The Name Above The Title, 305. 60 Richard J. Gerrig and Deborah A. Prentice, “Notes On Audience Response”, in Post-Theory. Reconstructing Film Studies, David Bordwell and Noël Carroll (ed.), (Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1996), 402.

56

Chapter Two

and humanist, treated such a cooperation as natural and the simplest way to appeal to the viewers. His comedies could thus be the direct answer to people’s needs and preferences, which still can be considered as valid and current. Mary P. Nichols's claim that it is hope that popular audiences demand and her defence of popular culture in a broader sense61 provide us with an argument in favour of Capra's approach towards his audience. Another element that Capra recognized as a vital component of his cinematic dialogue with the audience was laughter, which will be the focus of the next sub-section of this chapter.

Laughter Emotions, the audience, and laughter are closely connected to each other. For Capra, evoking laughter was a major goal of comedy, so we will discuss it at length. In The Name above the Title, Capra reflects on the mystery of laughter. He asks the question: What is laughter? … [T]his sudden, explosive, salutary, almost involuntary release of happy energy? … [T]his rippling, guttural, inarticulate cry of joy only humans utter and understand? … that dissolves hate, heals the sick, and binds humanity together in a common fellowship only humans can join?62

The above quotation is a clear confirmation of Capra’s humanistic approach. It also traces the echoes of Aristotle’s theory that human beings are the only creatures that laugh.63 In an attempt to answer the question, Capra suggests that elements like memory, historical sense, as well as a vision of reality can be an answer. Having a certain picture of what things should be like, we laugh when they are different. However, such an explanation seems not to be enough, since “we smile and laugh at birds, weddings, young people in love, harvest festivals, and many other normal events that are as they should be.”64 One more important aspect of laughter, according to Capra, is its fragility and the fact that by its nature it cannot be forced into being. To be evoked, laughter requires some kind of 61

See Nichols, “A Defence Of Popular Culture”, 76. Capra, The Name Above The Title, 453. 63 See Atistotle, De Partibus Animalium, online on January 16, 2013 at: http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/AriPaan.html, book III, chapter 10. Capra mentions the fact in connection to the thesis that man is also the only creature who has a soul. He further wonders whether these two components are related to each other. See Capra, The Name Above The Title, 453. 64 Capra, The Name Above The Title, 454. 62

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

57

a trigger in the form of “something pleasant, comic or witty.”65 Finally, he concludes his reflection with the statement that “laughter is the most pleasantly mysterious component of a much greater mystery–the human psyche.”66 Capra’s theory is the contemporary view upon the matter. Throughout the ages, however, the phenomenon of laughter was a subject of numerous discussions on the field of many branches of science and philosophy. The earliest attempts to define the essence of both laughter and happiness date from the times of ancient Greece. While Socrates (469-399 B.C.) considered “virtue” the ultimate aim of a man, Aristotle presented a slightly different opinion indicating that the highest good is not virtue but happiness.67 The attitudes toward “laughter” kept changing together with changing tendencies of the epochs. Although happiness itself was held in high esteem (in accordance with the ethics of eudaimonism), early Christian thinkers perceived laughter with ambivalence. The Church understood joyfulness as levity, lack of self-control, sexual immorality, and a “vulgar eruption of the body that contained the indecent excess of paganism and was impudent.”68 Therefore, early Christians were called upon to restrain laughter and to rely on the vision of monastic silence as the proper manner of behaviour on the path leading towards salvation. The pattern obviously refers to the fact that the Scripture does not indicate any situation in which Jesus laughs. Instead, it provides us with Hebrew verses defining proper Christian conduct unquestionably: The house of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth. It is better to hear the rebuke of the wise, than for a man to hear the song of fools. For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fool: this also is vanity.” (Ecc.7, 4-6).69

It is not until the medieval period that we can trace the attempts of reconciling religion with laughter. The medieval distinction between good and bad laughter must be stressed, however. In many morality plays (characteristic for the period), bad laughter is to be attributed to human ignorance and folly, and “hell”, in more general terms, while good 65

Capra, The Name Above The Title, 454. Capra, The Name Above The Title, 454. 67 See Wáadysáaw Tatarkiewicz, Historia filozofii, vol. 1, (Warszawa: PaĔstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1970), 60-108. 68 Andrew Stott, Comedy: The New Critical Idiom (London: Routledge, 2005), 128. 69 Ecclesiastes 7, 4-6 quoted in Stott, Comedy, 128. 66

58

Chapter Two

laughter brings to one’s mind associations with chastity, piety, and the religious virtues of St Francis of Assisi. Thus, Stott argues that “medieval laughter was part of creation”70 and that it can be understood as metaphysical. Another aspect responsible for changing attitudes towards laughter was the development of medicine, as well as philosophy. Surprisingly, both branches stressed the importance of cultivation of a sense of humour in order to maintain a healthy balance of both body and mind.71 The sixteenth century provided us with another perspective of the understanding of a human being and, consequently, the nature of laughter. In the writings of the English philosopher Thomas Hobbes, we find the notion that it is the recognition of one’s superiority towards others that evokes laughter. It can be treated then as a tool serving to form a hierarchy in a society. As Hobbes states: “Laughter is nothing else but a sudden glory arising from some sudden conception of some eminency in ourselves, by comparison with the infirmity of others, or with our own formerly.”72 Therefore, human nature is defined here as slightly malicious and not devoid of evil propensities. Such an explanation of laughter brings us to further rumination over the matter of morality and, as a result, the phenomenon of laughter tends to appear suspicious and therefore, discarded as morally wrong. In the eighteenth century, however, the attempts to change the perception of laughter as immoral have their origins. The contemporary “incongruity theory” (supported, among others, by Schopenhauer and Kant) suggests a definition stating that inconsistent and incongruous elements of circumstances arouse laughter. Thus, eighteenth century humour would be based on a juxtaposition of opposites, as well as on linguistic jokes, altogether forming the definition of the most characteristic device for the period of “wit”. Laughter no longer tends to be associated with immorality based on social inequality but with incongruity of circumstances, the clever use of language, and altogether with the ability to laugh for sheer pleasure, devoid of any ill-natured connotations. The nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century bring us the works of the philosopher Herbert Spencer and psychiatrist Sigmund Freud. Spencer sought for connections of laughter to purely physiological motives, while Freud joined Spencer’s theory to his own concept of the “unconscious”. The thesis known as “relief theory” treats laughter as “a symptom of division and struggle within the self, recognition […] of 70

Stott, Comedy, 130. See Stott, Comedy, 131. 72 Thomas Hobbes, Human Nature quoted in Stott, Comedy, 133. 71

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

59

incongruous selfhood.”73 The relief theory further indicates the reasons for sense of humour subjectivity, since appealing to a variety of unconscious experiences and ideas; it recognizes impulses which are individual for everyone. The next important point of Freud’s theory is the explanation of a demand for jokes as the means of public expression of one’s views on a taboo subject. The situation creates the need for a division of jokes into “innocent” and “tendentious”. An “innocent joke” would be the one close to the eighteenth century understanding of the notion of “wit” since, according to Freud’s definition, it would be a linguistic pun. A “tendentious joke”, for a change, would be one intending to express aggressiveness, satire, or self defence (a hostile joke), or to expose someone (an obscene joke).74 The jokes in such situations would be the only acceptable way of self-expression; subsequently, laughter could be treated as a purely physical sign of subconscious relief. The twentieth century offers a wide variety of different arguments attempting to specify the actual nature of laughter and its contemporary meaning. Among them there is a poststructuralist attempt to define laughter as an attempt to express cognition of what is beyond, or outside linguistic boundaries. For some of the deconstructionists, laughter was a way to express what cannot be expressed by means of language which, by its nature, is not fully meaningful anyway. Thus, laughter would be treated here as an extra-linguistic device.75 In our search for an historical explanation of the notion of laughter we encounter a wide variety of theories. Among others, we find one made by the Marxist critics Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer. The critics undertake a problem of mass culture and its powerful weapons of manipulation like cinema. The movies, according to them, offer false satisfaction and life which is viewed instead of being experienced. Stott presents the following interpretation of the above thesis: The laughter of the culture industry is therefore a kind of infantilized false consciousness, attached to images in films that allude to the gratification of desires, such as kissing or the possibility of sexual intercourse. […] Laughter is offered instead of satisfaction.76

Such a statement is a contradiction to the formerly mentioned Capra’s understanding of laughter and emotion (and could be categorised as part of 73

Stott, Comedy, 138. See Stott, Comedy, 139. 75 Stott, Comedy, 142. 76 Stott, Comedy, 144. 74

60

Chapter Two

the Platonic turn Carroll describes), the role of the viewer and, in a broader perspective, cinema in general. By no means does cinema constitute a substitution for experience. For Capra, the filmmaking process involves the mutual cooperation of an artist and the audience: “Comedy is good news. […] it is fulfilment, accomplishment, overcoming. It is victory over odds, a triumph of good over evil.”77 Finally, laughter, the result of positive emotion, is an outburst of happy energy. Thus, cinema is not only the promise of experience but actual experiencing. The emotions the audience encounter while viewing a movie aim at causing the viewer’s catharsis and, in consequence, drawing a moral lesson.78 Similarly, Carroll argues that it is not immaterial what evokes emotions in a viewer, i.e., the moral aspect of comedy is an important issue.

Morals The fundamental question at the basis of mortality according to Socrates is that of how to live. Aristotle added to this the important concern of how do we live well, which he felt was the important issue at the base of the “good life”. We can add that, in order to establish one’s set of morals, an essential component is to discover and define one’s identity. According to Charles Taylor, the item is not merely the question of providing the self with a genealogy or name but rather stating which ethics are of vital importance to someone. In Sources of the Self, Taylor offers the following explanation to this idea: To know who I am is a species of knowing where I stand. My identity is defined by the commitments and identifications which provide the frame or horizon within which I can try to determine from case to case what is good, or valuable, or what ought to be done, or what I endorse or oppose. In other words, it is the horizon within which I am capable of taking a stand.79

These are the horizons, then, which provide meaning to various things, events and experiences and which, moreover, allow us to differentiate between good actions and bad ones within their framework. Consequently, the lack of such a framework or horizon may cause an “identity crisis”, 77

Capra, The Name Above The Title, 453. In the sixth chapter of Poetics Aristotle presents similar view upon the aim of dramatic form in which through pity and fear the viewer undergoes catharsis. The whole experience is similarly aimed at drawing a moral. 79 Charles Taylor, Sources Of The Self: The Making Of The Modern Identity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000), 27. 78

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

61

i.e. as Taylor defines it: “an acute form of disorientation which people often express in terms of not knowing who they are, but which can also be seen as a radical uncertainty of where they stand.”80 The above thesis concludes that only after we define our identity are we able to specify our moral code. A declaration of our moral code, nevertheless, is only one step towards proving the genuineness of the morals we choose for ourselves. The authenticity of our choice is put to continuous test in the course of life and, therefore, our task is to persist in once chosen ideals in lieu of numerous temptations of conformist reality.81 The problem of identity-defining one’s morals-as well as proving its authenticity is a frequent subject of populist comedies. These three correlated items bring to mind another crucial populist issue, namely the question of the “common good”. The notion of “common good” has been recently given a good deal of attention and numerous attempts to explain the actual meaning and evaluation of it have been undertaken. Robert N. Bellah in his essay “Religion and the Shape of National Culture”, recalls the words of Pope John Paul II who defined the term as “the good of all and of each individual”, and emphasized the importance of solidarity: “a firm and preserving determination to commit oneself to the common good.”82 Further in the article, Bellah looks for the answer to the question why the idea of common good seems to be mainly Catholic-related and why it is not easy to grasp for Protestants. Andrew Greeley seeks the explanation in the theory that it is natural for a Catholic to determine his/her place in society because he sees society as God’s sacrament, i.e. “a set of ordered relationships, governed by both justice and love, that reveal […] the presence of God. Society is 'natural' and 'good,' therefore, for humans and their 'natural' response to God is social.”83 On the other hand, society for the Protestant is God-forsaken and therefore unnatural and oppressive. The individual stands over against society and not integrated into it. The human becomes fully human only when he is able to break away from social oppression and relate to the absent God as a completely free individual.84

80

Taylor, Sources Of The Self, 27. Charles Taylor, Etyka autentycznoĞci (Kraków: Wydawnictwo Znak, 1996), 57. 82 John Paul II quoted in Bellah, “Religion And The Shape Of National Culture,” America, vol. 181, no. 3, (1999), 9. 83 Andrew Greeley quoted in Bellah, “Religion And The Shape Of National Culture,” 10. 84 Greeley quoted in Bellah, “Religion And The Shape Of National Culture,” 10. 81

Chapter Two

62

This thesis, Bellah states, is however a bit too categorical since it ignores historical evidence of the protestant capacity for forming communities.85 Greeley’s opinion is also contradicted by the fact of ever growing utilitarian and expressive individualism which is “something very deep, very genuine, very old, very American.”86 Thus, Bellah suggests that the cultural codes present in American society originate from the mixture of the Protestant and Catholic set of values and determinants and, as such, are complimentary. Catholic sacraments, he claims, “pull us into an embodied world of relationships and connections […] rather than a world in which individuals attempt to escape from society.”87 Yet, the combination of those cultural codes still allows a person to maintain his individuality. “Common good”, “community”, and “home” are the subjects frequently discussed by sociologists and the critics in connection to each other. Nevertheless, the terms, although related, do not bear the same meaning for the whole of American society. In his study concerning The Wizard of Oz, Paul Nathanson argues that the notion of “home”, finding one’s home, and going back home are the subjects close to the heart of every American.88 It is not surprising historically since, as Nathanson puts it, “the New World was 'discovered' and the United States was 'invented.'”89 Hence, he suggests, the ideas of “home” (understood as people and landscape)90 and “quest” are strongly rooted in American culture and thus American specific. We can find the evidence of this thesis in many cinema classics. While Gone with the Wind (1939) highlights the value of (home)land,91 Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) celebrates home and staying at home.92 Probably the most direct proof is delivered in the concluding scene of The Wizard of Oz in which the main protagonist, having returned after a long journey, utters: “There’s no place like home!”93 “Community”, on the other hand, tends to be considered the dominant concern of Catholic-related minorities. In The Catholic Imagination Greeley discusses the subject on base of the movies of Italian American .

85

Bellah, “Religion And The Shape Of National Culture,” 10. Bellah, “Religion And The Shape Of National Culture,” 10. 87 Bellah, “Religion And The Shape Of National Culture,” 13. 88 See Paul Nathanson, Over the Rainbow. The Wizard Of Oz As A Secular Myth Of America (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991), 55-104. 89 Nathanson, Over The Rainbow, 114. 90 Nathanson, Over The Rainbow, 115. 91 See Nathanson, Over The Rainbow, 143-144. 92 See Nathanson, Over The Rainbow, 55. 93 See Nathanson, Over The Rainbow, 139. 86

Comedy and Romance in Literature and Film

63

directors. “Most Italian American films,” he states, “are about an intense family life, intricate extended family relations, and a close-knit neighbourhood community.”94 The statement happens to be thoroughly appropriate in the case of Frank Capra (a cultural Catholic himself). Indeed, in the most general of terms, as I shall discuss more precisely further in this book, the issues of family, neighbourhood, and local community can be considered the most frequent thematic motives of the filmmaker. All the above-mentioned aspects of American culture (common good, community, home, searching for one’s identity) add together to form a background to what I earlier defined as “populism”. Both literature throughout the ages, as well as cinema, have provided us with a variety of examples of populist characters acting on behalf of the community they belong to. These protagonists fight for the honour and ideals they believe in, and are ready to sacrifice their own personal happiness or even life in the name of a common good.95 It is obviously a moral choice that drives the main heroes’ actions and their strong belief in propriety of it. Interestingly, the problems discussed in the most representative movies of the populist genre, although dating back to 1930s, appear to still be appreciated by the contemporary audience. In the light of all the abovementioned arguments, the answer to the question why should not be surprising. Bellah’s arguments concerning the state of American society indicates its currency. Even if we disregard his analysis, despite all the political, economical, and social changes that are a natural outcome of the passage of time, with all certainty we can indicate some values which remain profoundly evocative. The ideal of willingness to help others, treasuring the plain joy of life, and longing for happiness form the everyday concerns of an everyman. Therefore, it seems to be the thematic universality of the populist movies, as well as their optimistic message, that makes the twenty-first century viewer want to reach out to them and to treat their morals as contemporarily valid or at least as a corrective to the radical individualism present in American society that Bellah claims is destructive of its sense of the common good. Probably the same reasons can be applied to Frank Capra and the explanation of his movies’ relevance today. The heartwarming message beaming from them usually promotes a common man engaged in a constant struggle for the common good, and celebrates the triumph of the 94

Andrew Greeley, The Catholic Imagination (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2001), 112. 95 See Wystan H. Auden, “The Quest Hero” Tolkien And The Critics, (ed.) N. D. Isaacs, R. A. Zimbardo (London: University of Notre Dame Press, 1968).

64

Chapter Two

joy of life comprised of simple truth, need for romance, and a neverending longing for ideals, which, among others, will be the subject of my analysis in the subsequent parts of this book.96 The following chapters will be devoted to the films of Frank Capra representing the three Murphy Dante-based categories of paradisal, purgatorial, and infernal comedies. My aim will be to indicate the presence of Frye's romantic mode within all of the chosen Capra's movies and to provide the arguments in favour of the thesis that they can be considered to constitute the examples of the genre of romance.

96 These values are likewise central to contemporary positive psychology discussed earlier.

CHAPTER THREE FROM INNOCENCE TO EXPERIENCE: INNOCENCE

The Paradisal Level In the previous chapter I presented several perspectives from which the subject of comedy and romance can be viewed. I indicated that the subject is a complex one and recalled some important concepts concerning the matter. This chapter will be devoted entirely to Frank Capra and his contribution to the realm of romance in cinematic comedy. Following the previously discussed Francesca Aran Murphy’s theory based on Dante’s division of the comic world, the subsequent two chapters of the book will be devoted to the categories of innocence and experience respectively. Thus, Capra’s movies will be grouped into two groups of comedies: the first one reflecting Dante’s paradisal level (the stage of innocence), and the second one devoted to the combined level of purgatorial and infernal comedy (the stage of experience). I have chosen to interpret such a division in terms of a natural parallelism and correlation between paradise and childhood innocence; purgatory and the process of gaining experience, i.e. entering adulthood; and finally, between inferno and the state of being experienced, and thus facing ultimate questions. However, it is essential to note that all Capra’s comedies which are going to be discussed in this book include the crucial element of the main characters’ rebirth, regardless of which comic category they belong to. Therefore, in these I am going to reverse the order of Dante’s original journey since, contrary to Dante, who travelled in search of God, my journey throughout the realm of Capra’s cinematic universe is in search of man who is born as an innocent child and later on the experience he gains, despite numerous doubts and downfalls, helps him to establish his humanity and finally leads him to become reborn to life again. Hence, what we experience here is the full circle beginning and ending on a paradisal level, which will be dealt with in the final section. Such a categorization allows us to examine the stages

66

Chapter Three

of development of both of the characters throughout the stories, as well as Capra’s directorial vision of the filmic universe in a social and historical context. In this chapter I aim not only to justify the choice of such a device, but also to indicate the presence of strong romantic mode elements in all of the discussed categories despite any outside changes which might have been of influence.

Lady For A Day (1933) and You Can’t Take It With You (1938) Dante’s vision of paradise is a romantic one in which the tangible senses cease to be of the essence. It is an immaterial picture blurred with colours and sounds where the notions of ideals, emotions, and feelings reign.1 Therefore, paradisal comedy is bound to bear similar features. According to Murphy, the mood is going to be light, the troubles minor or nonexistent, and the innocent characters are going to achieve their aims with little effort. Another vital point of paradisal comedy, i.e. full comedy, is rebirth. Since paradisal comedy is a visionary one, it is only through the constant projection of a dream that the accomplishment of such mundus imaginalis is possible. Hence, it seems that a persistence and faithfulness in fulfilling one’s dream is the driving force of the paradisal level of comedy. The Frank Capra films selected for this section can serve as the examples of the paradisal mode of comedy so let us examine each of them closer. Lady For A Day (1933)2 is based on Damon Runyon’s short story Madame La Gimp (1929). The central character, Apple Annie (May Robson), is an old shabby beggar selling apples on the streets of New York as her means of support. Her most faithful customer, Dave the Dude (Warren William), is a petty crook who never makes any important decision until he has bought his good luck apple from Annie. The main plot begins with the disclosure of the existence of Annie’s illegitimate daughter who as a child was sent to Europe to be educated. All her life Louise (Jean Parker) has been convinced she was the daughter of a grand society dame, Mrs. E. Worthington Manville, the identity of whom Annie managed to maintain by means of sending letters written on stolen hotel stationary. However, when Louise announces the news about her engagement to a Spanish aristocrat and her plan to pay a visit to New York 1

See Dante Alighieri, Boska komedia (Warszawa: Ludowa Spóádzielnia Wydawnicza, 1992). 2 Lady For A Day was nominated for Oscars by the Academy in four categories: Best Picture, Best Actress, Best Director, and Best Screenplay Adaptation, however, the movie did not win any of the awards.

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

67

together with her fiancé as well as her future father-in-law, Apple Annie sinks into despair, realizing that the whole fiction is about to crash and the happiness of her only child is bound to be ruined. At this point Annie is forced to gamble with her fate and try to turn the fairy story she has invented for the sake of her daughter into reality. The trick becomes possible with the help of Dave the Dude who, deprived of Annie’s lucky apples, refuses to run his business deals and prefers to get involved in Annie’s charade rather than to lose her “support”. Thus, after numerous comic obstacles, the double Cinderella motive becomes successful and the dreams of both female characters come true. Louise gets full approval and parental blessing from her fiancé's father, and Apple Annie is transformed into a lady (even if it is only for a day) and helps her daughter to marry the man she loves, regardless of her lower social status. According to Ray Carney, Lady For A Day is “one of Capra’s happiest and most high-spirited achievements, a song of praise to the power of human imagination at work.”3 Indeed, the movie is a visionary comedy. As soon as we learn the story of Louise and the dream world which her mother has created for her, we are provided with the proof of the above thesis. Thanks to her motherly affection, Annie manages to project her dream of her daughter’s life so skilfully that, in the end, it becomes reality. Not only does Louise gain an education which would normally be far beyond her reach, but she also succeeds in making the upward movement into high society by means of her marriage. Such a scenario set in the dim reality of the Depression era can only be possible in a fairy tale. And clearly the story, as I have already mentioned, is an American version of Cinderella, where a beggar's daughter (even though she is unaware of the fact of her mother’s poverty) marries a count, an heir to a vast family fortune. Moreover, despite some of the initial difficulties concerning the bride’s mother's “life style”, everything is solved fairly easy and all the obstacles, no matter how serious, are overcome almost miraculously. With help of–in this case–a fairy god-father incarnated in Dave the Dude, Apple Annie undergoes a transformation from a street beggar to the respectable Mrs. E. Worthington Manville. Moreover, although, to say the least, it is not the sort of thing to happen in the real world, the fact does not astonish the viewer of this romantic tale at all.4 The story unfolds in a light and happy mood regardless of the gloomy social and political circumstances of the period. The portrayal of Annie’s New York street friends is rather neutral and devoid of commentary 3

Carney, American Vision, 73. Joseph McBride calls the story the “Pygmalion for the Depression Era,” see his Frank Capra, 298.

4

68

Chapter Three

concerning their social situation. The milieu of the beggars as well as their various occupations are presented rather as one of the possible ways of earning a living in a big city. A dark subject of social inequality like this could easily become a good starting point to convey explicit political criticism (although the class contrast has been visualized in the movie); however, dealing with this side of matters in a fairy tale would be counterproductive. The beggars in Lady For A Day are well organized, self confident, and ready to protect their friends (as they were ready to protect Annie when she found herself in trouble). They form one more social group which serves as the background for the story in the movie. Another significant element which definitely helps us to classify Lady for a Day as the paradisal comedy is the lack of a villain. Although it is not the first thing to be noticed while watching the movie, once you have realized the fact it turns out to be quite surprising, since the existence of an archetypal hero automatically evokes the need to expect the presence of a villain as a counterbalance. Even the original Cinderella has a wicked stepmother and two bad stepsisters. However, the visionary universe of Lady For A Day is different. There is no place for villains here (although there is a threat of failure). Actually, all the characters of Lady For A Day are shown positively, whatever their social and financial status. The rich European aristocrat count Romero's (Guy Kibbee) intentions to check his future daughter-in-law’s family background are driven by the fatherly concern about his son’s happiness; Dave the Dude, although a crook and a swindler, is ready to risk being caught by the police and perhaps going to jail in order to help the old beggar; the street beggars, Annie’s friends, also seem to be content with their lives; and finally the police and the cream of New York high society, having learnt about Annie’s troubles and the whole carefully planned charade, willingly decide to join in. There is no need to mention the young couple, Louise and her fiancé, who are so deeply in love (just like the original Cinderella and her Prince) that they do not even consider the possibility of being separated. All of the above-discussed elements: a dreamlike or visionary reality, the light mood and a fairy tale-like story, positive lively characters, and the lack of a villain, build up a comedy of a paradisal type. Similar features can be spotted in another Capra comedy, You Can’t Take It With You (1938).5 The story is based on the Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman play of the same title; however, Capra decides to alter some of the main points as well as to shift the focus to different subjects than in the original script. 5

You Can’t Take It With You was awarded by The Academy Awards in two categories: Best Picture, and Best Director.

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

69

The setting for the story is the house of the zany screwball family of Grandpa Vanderhof (Lionel Barrymore). Each family member is an eccentric individualist thoroughly occupied with some unique hobby and devoting seven days a week to its pursuit. Hence: Grandpa Vanderhof maintains a vast collection of stamps, his daughter writes theatrical plays and experiments with painting pictures, her husband spends most of the time producing fireworks, their younger daughter practices ballet dancing around the house while her husband plays some musical instruments, and the other daughter, Alice Sycamore (Jean Arthur) is the only one in the house who has a job (and it is only because she wants it). The whole family does not worry about financial matters since, according to the philosophy of Grandpa Vanderhof, they are all lilies in the field and Providence will take care of them anyway. Meanwhile, there are more important matters in life like, e.g.: having friends, being good and helpful to others, pursuing your passions, and enjoying the simple pleasures of each and every day. The idealized world of Grandpa Vanderhof’s family is contrasted with the distinct universe of a big city financial tycoon, Anthony P. Kirby (Edward Arnold). Both families are linked by two young protagonists Alice, occupying the post of A. P. Kirby’s stenographer, and Tony Kirby (James Stewart), who, having fallen in love with the girl, becomes the initiator of the conflict. Tony’s plan to marry a girl from a lower social class meets with the disapproval of his parents. Nevertheless, this turns out to be not the only level of conflict between the families. Additionally, Grandpa Vanderhof happens to inhabit the house scheduled to be demolished as an element of realizing Kirby’s big munitions plant. By means of their refusal to leave the house (even though a vast sum of money is being offered), Vanderhof blocks the conclusion of Kirby's profitable Wall Street deal. His family house, however, means much more to Grandpa than just a property: it bears a strong sentimental value and memories of his late wife, with which he does not want to part. The comic chain of events develops further complications, including putting both families in jail, and leads to a violent row between Alice and Tony, eventually resulting in the couple’s splitting up. Although the gap between the two worlds seems too broad to be crossed, after numerous turning points and struggles, the viewer finally witnesses the surprising happy end in which not only does the main couple become reunited, but also Kirby, Sr., under the influence of Grandpa Vanderhof’s life philosophy, is transformed from a cold-blooded Wall Street magnate into an understanding father and a man of flesh and blood. The light-hearted mood of Grandpa Vanderhof’s house as well as its

70

Chapter Three

inhabitants' constant need to pursue their passions and ideals made Frank Capra reminisce about the movie as “the first hippy picture”.6 The accuracy of this statement becomes clear especially in relation to the variety of eccentric characters and the peculiar community they form under the roof of Grandpa Vanderhof’s house. Unlike Lady For A Day, not every character in You Can’t Take It With You can be easily classified. Undoubtedly, all members of Grandpa Vanderhof’s family are positive characters, and we may certainly treat young Tony as such as well. The difficulty arises, however, in the case of Anthony P. Kirby, who in the context of the whole story cannot be labelled a definitively negative character. The figure of the Wall Street tycoon, who in the Caprian universe would normally equal an utter villain, was transformed here to another kind of a character: a “villain-hero”7 combining features of both, and thus having a chance to become liberated from the powers of big city evil. The process of Mr. Kirby’s metamorphosis becomes one of the most crucial themes in the movie and thanks to its successful accomplishment, the final happy end is granted. Nevertheless, it would be impossible without the influence of Grandpa Vanderhof, “the spokesman for the Capra humanism”,8 and the young couple’s refusal to accept the threatening social rules, as well as their strong determination to achieve their goals. An almost miraculous turn of events brings the two families together, the young lovers (just like Louise and count Romero in Lady For A Day) are united in spite of coming from different social strata, the seniors of the families discover a common passion for music and, in the course of playing the harmonica together, turn out to be kindred spirits after all. All previous problems disappear and the proverbial better future is almost tangible. Once again Capra provides us with a paradisal type of a visionary fairy tale in which no obstacle on the way to fulfillment of one’s dreams is too big to overcome. In the first chapter of this book I claim that modes of comedy and romance share a number of common features. The thesis becomes even easier to defend if we take into consideration the mode of romance and the notion of a paradisal comedy as characterized earlier in the chapter. In fact, 6

Frank Capra quoted in Schickel, The Men Who Made The Movies, 77. In his Frank Capra, Charles Maland clearly classifies A. P. Kirby as a villain and a direct adversary of a hero, Grandpa Vanderhof (See 102). However, Capra himself describes the character as a villain-hero (See Capra, The Name Above The Title, 241), and many critics (e.g. L. A. Poague) choose to accept such a classification. 8 Maland, Frank Capra, 102. 7

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

71

most of the romantic elements enumerated by Northrop Frye9 can also be stated to be the features of the paradisal mode of comedy. Even such a concise characteristic of paradisal comedy as depicted above provides us with evidence. In both cases the story (or at least a part of it) is set in an idealized world, the heroes' actions are driven by the desire of the soul and, therefore, the characters are provided with almost supernatural strength, bravery, and chastity; the heroines are pure, beautiful and goddess-like damsels. Other elements that frequently occur in both modes are numerous adventures and quests leading to the final confrontation between the positive and negative character in the course of which the hero inevitably gains victory. The world of romance (and paradisal comedy) is ruled by love and ideals. Reality and dreams are often mixed here creating the impression of a fairy tale. This description is adequate in the case of Lady For A Day and You Can't Take It With You since both of the movies can be classified as paradisal romantic comedies. At first glance, the setting of Lady For A Day and You Can't Take It With You does not promise much of a fairy tale. The initial scenes offer the viewer the fuss and noise of the big metropolis. Lady For A Day introduces us to a busy street of New York and right away visually depicts the social contrast between the high society enjoying the night life and the milieu of the beggars trying to earn their living on the streets. Similarly, the action of You Can't Take It With You also takes place in New York and the starting scene introduces the viewer to the equally busy Wall Street and the business world: the daily bread of A. P. Kirby. In these cold and unfriendly settings we meet the protagonists. Apple Annie attempts to make ends meet by means of selling apples (with not much luck that evening), Mr. Kirby hurries into his office with his head full of the grand deal he plans to accomplish; Tony, who has lately been appointed a vice president of his father's company, does not seem particularly happy about his position (in fact he seems bored). Capra also offers the viewer the chance to see Grandpa Vanderhof in similar surroundings. It is in one of these busy offices that we see Vanderhof for the first time and it becomes instantly clear that the man does not belong there. Unlike others in the office, he is not in a hurry, he looks relaxed and at ease, and the moment he speaks we learn the doctrines of Vanderhof's philosophy of life which, in the harsh world of business and finance, must sound preposterous and childish. Strictly speaking, it is not easy to spot any trace of a fairy tale in such a world. Nevertheless, as the movies unfold, Capra allows his 9

Northrop Frye's thesis concerning the mode of romance was discussed in Chapter Two.

72

Chapter Three

characters to be shifted into another reality: the reality Apple Annie conjured up for the sake of her daughter, and the Walt Disney reality of Grandpa Vanderhof's house. In this fairy tale setting Annie is no longer a street beggar but a respectable dame whose daughter marries a young aristocrat. In You Can't Take It With You Vanderhof's house is a happy asylum not only for the members of his family but for anyone who is tired with the “real world” and who fancies staying there and having fun. In both stories the main characters succeed in projecting their dreams and visions towards people they love and care for. Both stories convey the optimistic message that if you desire something truly good your dreams may become reality. Careful examination of the vast scope of characters presented in Lady For A Day and You Can’t Take It With You helps us to find more analogies to the world of fairy tale imagery. We may easily identify at least three main categories of characters in both stories: the parents, the young lovers, and the helpers. In The Anatomy Of Criticism Frye points out that, in the world of romance, “divine or spiritual figures are usually parental, wise old men with magical powers.”10 There are many ways to interpret the above statement in connection to the first category of characters, the parents. In the case of the two discussed Capra movies, the group consists of two conventional parental figures: Apple Annie and Mr. Vanderhof. Both characters are strong personalities who base their lives on ideals which they consider to consist of fundamental values. Although the characters are certainly not divine figures in the direct understanding of the term, nevertheless they undeniably possess magical powers which allow them to accomplish their mission of implementing a fairy tale reality into their surroundings. It is thanks to these powers that all the miracles can happen. Annie plays the role of a fairy godmother to Louise, helping her to escape the hardship and social position the girl is not even aware of. Grandpa Vanderhof is the spiritus movens of the lifestyle of his family and friends. Moreover, Vanderhof’s kindness and wisdom have the power to influence and change lives. This unusual ability is displayed in the first sequence of the movie in the conversation between Grandpa and Mr. Poppins, the office clerk, who in a mechanical style deals with checking the figures in the documents, but secretly is an inventor “making up things”. After a short conversation with Mr. Vanderhof, Mr. Poppins is ready to leave his job behind, and joins the Vanderhof’s house, where he can finally devote himself to whatever pleases him. It takes slightly longer in the case of A. P. Kirby; nevertheless, Vanderhof’s philosophy helps him 10

Frye, The Anatomy Of Criticism, 151.

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

73

to re-determine his life priorities as well. In his house Grandpa is a shepherd of the flock which he protects with fatherly affection. He is the wise man giving advice and helping to make the right choices. The patriarchal role of the chief of the congregation is most explicitly portrayed in the scenes of leading the prayers preceding the family meals. This important moment is the time of giving thanks to Providence, as well as the possibility to recount all the positive events the day has brought. This is a ritual festivity symbolizing Grandpa Vanderhof’s world’s unity and order. Contrary to Grandpa Vanderhof, who was able to decide about the life he wanted to lead, Apple Annie was not given such an opportunity. And yet her low social position does not seem to diminish her ability to influence others. As I have already pointed out, she is successful at changing her daughter’s life into a fairy tale. This is, however, not the only alteration she introduces into her reality. In fact, Annie’s troubles link together quite a unique range of personalities. It is even more surprising when we realize the unusual quantity and variety of people who get involved into helping the case of the beggar woman they have nothing in common with. The romanticism of Dave the Dude’s life ideology becomes clear at the moment he refuses to make any business deal without first buying the “lucky” apple from Annie. Dude’s decision to aid Annie in organizing the charade is also the behaviour one could not necessarily hope for in the “real world”. As Leland Poague notices: “through the process of helping Annie, Dave becomes an increasingly better person, more aware of others and more empathetic toward their needs.”11 However, this is not the end of miraculous social interactions. The concluding reception turns to a heavenly banquet of a communal act of good will. 12 Having heard the story of Apple Annie, the high society of New York decides to join the party in order to help the woman. Not only do they take part in the reception, but after the party is finished, count Romero, Louise and her fiancé are collectively escorted to the ship sailing back to Spain. Thus, Annie’s little family affair gave the nobility an opportunity (in the best tradition of Dickens' Christmas Carol) to pay their regards for others, to unite in an initiative to make an elderly woman happy, and to resolve to henceforth be better people. The grand finale of Lady For A Day echoes Frye’s concept of the comic plot. The rejuvenating experience of disinterested help results in the recovery of the community, which supports the idea that New York after Annie’s reception changes 11 12

Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 222. See Chapter Two.

74

Chapter Three

into “the good city”.13 The second category of characters, the young lovers, is represented by two couples: Louise and Carlos Romero and Alice Sycamore and Tony Kirby. In Lady For A Day, Capra decides to leave the young couple oblivious to the fact they are the cause of the whole turmoil, and the focal attention is shifted to the other characters, Apple Annie and Dave the Dude. Thus, the young lovers in this case represent the values of purity, innocence and romantic love and become an impersonation of an ideal for the preservation of which the battle will be fought by others. Alice and Tony, on the other hand, have to struggle for their love themselves. According to Poague, the relationship between Alice and Tony is a “Romeo-and-Juliet-type love affair that cuts across class barriers.”14 The thesis is true especially in the case of the main topic concerning the ideological split between the two families. Since Grandpa Vanderhof and Mr. Kirby, the patriarch of the family clans, have built their lives on quite different values, it is inevitable that both worlds will clash. The resolution of the conflict, however, does not follow the Capulet-Montague pattern and the young couple are finally gratified with the prospect of living happily ever after. Nevertheless, before this can happen, the young lovers have to undertake the quest during which the strength of their feelings will be tested. The plot of You Can’t Take It With You revolves around Tony who, as Poague notes, is the central character of the movie. He stands between the interests of Mr. Kirby, who wishes Tony to be his successor in the world of business and one day to become a financial tycoon like his father, and the hopes of Mr. Vanderhof’s family, who are all glad to see him as Alice’s future husband. Thus, Tony has to choose whom he wants to be, and his moral choice becomes the main subject of the story.15 Tony’s decisions will have an influence upon both families. Grandpa Vanderhof perceives Tony as Alice’s choice and is ready to accept him into his family with an open heart. However, he needs to be sure Tony is the proper man for his granddaughter, an heiress of the ideals of romantic love and humane values. The opportunity of testing Tony occurs after the Kirbys’ visit to Grandpa Vanderhof’s house during which both families are arrested for the illegal manufacture of fireworks (the hobby of Alice’s father). The experience at the court helps Tony 13

See Chapter Two. Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 48; see also Poague, Another Frank Capra, 49; and Robert Willson, “Capra’s Comic Sense” in Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, Glatzer and Raeburn (ed.), 91. 15 See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 50. 14

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

75

acknowledge the strength of his parents’ class prejudices impeding the realization of his romantic plan of the reconciliation of both families.16 The social and ideological contrast between the families is depicted, not without irony, at the moment of organizing the defence. Very quickly Mr. Kirby manages to organize four attorneys to represent him before the court, while Grandpa Vanderhof chooses to defend himself and his family on his own. Nonetheless, the Vanderhof’s clan is not left without support, since, having learnt about the arrest, Grandpa’s numerous friends and neighbours rushed to the court immediately (“I didn’t know anybody had that many friends anymore,” comments the sympathetic judge). In the end, the Vanderhof clan is fined the sum of $100 for disturbing the peace and the illegal manufacture of fireworks. The money is raised thanks to the collective contribution of all gathered in the court chamber, indignantly ignoring the proposal of Mr. Kirby to finance the fine. The judge’s inquiry about the circumstances of the two families being mixed up together becomes the actual moment of Tony’s trial. The fictional reason provided by Grandpa of Mr. Kirby’s intention to discuss the purchase of the house is confirmed instantly by the Kirbys who are anxious not to reveal the real reason, i.e. a formal introduction to their prospective daughter-in-law’s family. Tony fails the trial by means of remaining silent and not denying the statement, which is enough to infuriate Alice and to make her publicly refuse to have anything more to do with the entire Kirby clan, and to declare that Tony’s family is not good enough for her.17 This is, nevertheless, only the beginning of the hero’s romantic climatic struggle for the damsel. Tony might have lost the battle, but not yet the war. The court event helps him to define the values he really treasures and contributes to his making the final decision of leaving his father’s business and returning to his college dream of utilizing the energy in grass (the romantic concept per se). Tony’s choice instigates a series of essential changes in his environment and, thus (like Apple Annie and Grandpa Vanderhof), Tony unconsciously acquires the ability to change others’ lives: Mr. Kirby finally realizes the importance of values other than money and social status, Grandpa Vanderhof remains in the house he loves so much, and the two families become reconciled. The impossible becomes possible and the romantic hero and romantic heroine are happily joined together. The reality of both Lady For A Day and You Can’t Take It With You, 16

See Poague, Another Frank Capra, 53. Alice, therefore, is not a Juliet Capulet type, since apart from being an object of romantic desire, she does not hesitate to take an active part in fighting for her ideals.

17

76

Chapter Three

luckily for the main protagonists, is crowded with the helpers. Owing to the third category of characters (characteristic of the paradisal mode), the struggles of the protagonists can be accomplished with less effort. In both stories, families, friends, and neighbours form a certain chain of helpers. It is Dave the Dude who has the means to provide material support in Lady For A Day, but it is Annie’s beggar friends who start the initiative of helping her and who inspire Dave with the idea in the first place. The chain is lengthened by Missouri Martin (Glenda Farrell), Dude’s girlfriend, responsible for the visual transformation of the rugged Cinderella into Mrs. E. Worthington Manville. She is also the one who convinces Dave to carry on with supporting Annie’s deception till the very end. Thus, the couple contributes not only to Cinderella’s physical transformation but also help to supply the fairy tale setting, i.e. provide the luxurious penthouse as well as Annie’s fictional husband. As Dave the Dude and Missouri Martin play the part of fairy godparents to Annie, so does Annie to her daughter, Louise. It is vital to notice that both acts are devoid of any self-interest: neither Annie nor Dave and his associate can expect a reward greater than appreciation.18 Therefore, the need to accomplish their goals is based thoroughly on a romantic virtuous ideal of doing something good for its own sake. The chain of disinterested helpers in Lady For A Day closes with high society magnates and the local authorities who, having acknowledged the seriousness of the matter at stake, all agree to participate in the charade. Both groups of helpers are necessary for the fairy tale to end happily. (Similarly, it was not enough for the original Cinderella’s fairy godmother just to wish for the happy ending, she also needed the helpers, even if they were only mice and pumpkins). Annie’s story ends with the rejuvenating communal festivity, and the triumph of the fantasy of good will becomes the ignition for inner transformation of people involved, and a promise of a better life. The chain of helpers is even more tightly bound in You Can’t Take It With You. The first and most obvious helper in the movie is Grandpa. Grandpa’s past decision to quit his profession as a businessman and to change his life entirely (because he had no fun) has made the idyllic atmosphere of his house possible. The zany, but kind-hearted members of the household can thus confine themselves to their hobbies and, refusing to live according to the conventional pattern, have a merry and enjoyable time. Such social courage would probably seem too much of a risk if not for Grandpa. He is thus the driving force for his house’s inhabitants, which 18

The “lucky” apple stops being the main motivation after a while.

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

77

can be exemplified by the previously discussed case of Mr. Poppins. The range of Mr. Vanderhof’s help is extended further to other people and problems. When young Tony appears, Grandpa plays the role of the helper on different grounds. This time the elder man helps the younger one to specify and firmly define the real values in life, as well as to gain the courage to defend them, which in turn helps Tony and Alice reunite after the row in court. Tony’s self-definition provides him with the strength and confidence to refuse to stay in the family business (which has been the desire of his father all along, but not Tony’s). As a result, the younger Kirby’s decision initiates the chain of events leading to essential changes in the life of his father. A. P. Kirby, being a step from concluding a decisive business goal he was striving to obtain for a long time, suddenly realizes he is about to lose the precious father-and-son bond and decides to prevent it. Thus, Grandpa Vanderhof finally provides indirect help to Mr. Kirby by means of liberating him from the oppressive claws of capitalistic machinery. Later on, in the final scene, Grandpa helps Mr. Kirby in a direct way by advising him how to restore his relationship with Tony. The somewhat eccentric idea of playing the harmonica, suggested by Grandpa as a remedy, turns out to work and the Kirby family is reunited. There are also other helpers in You Can’t Take It With You, namely the neighbours. This characteristic-for-Capra’s stylistic group of people, representing the best humane and American values, acts in the name of the idea of “Love Thy Neighbour”.19 As with the group of the beggars in Lady For A Day, the Vanderhof neighbours are compassionate and disinterested in their conduct. They are always there for anyone in trouble. The court scene and the initiative of collecting the money for the fine that the judge orders to be paid by Grandpa’s family speaks for itself. By means of opposing Mr. Kirby's paying off the fine, the whole community unites in an act of protest against the power of capitalism Mr. Kirby stands for. The conclusion of the court scene echoes the voice of the community and constitutes Capra’s commentary on the social situation. The subject of characters in paradisal comedies excludes the existence of a villain. And, indeed, there is no such a character type in Lady For A Day. The matter is complicated, however, in the case of You Can’t Take It With You. It is certain that Mr. Kirby, Sr. cannot be treated as a model villain. Therefore, as I have already indicated, the figure was christened by Capra with the term of a “villain-hero” and was gifted with a complex mixture of virtues and vices.20 At the beginning of the story the harshness 19

Capra, The Name Above The Title, 241. The construction of the figure of Mr. Kirby can be compared to a well-known literary example of Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, another villain-hero, 20

78

Chapter Three

and stiffness of Mr. Kirby, a thriving banker and businessman, contrasts starkly with the warm and always-present vitality of Grandpa Vanderhof. The two patriarchs, as Capra put it, seem to represent two different philosophies: “Devour thy neighbour versus love thy neighbour”.21 The statement is adequate in relation to Kirby’s business kingdom, and the accuracy of the thesis is undeniable when we take into consideration the desperation with which he strives to achieve control over the munitions market (this particular deal is blocked by Grandpa’s refusal to sell his house). The villainous portrait starts to blur, however, in the scenes between the father and the son. In the first office scene we witness a friendly conversation between Tony and his father, and it is hard to deny that there is a positive potential in the character of Kirby, Sr.–the sincere laughter, the reaction to his son’s joke about the slingshot market that he must have forgotten to control, cannot be the sign of anything else. Thus, Mr. Kirby aspires to be a good father. In his elaboration on the symbolism of the family portraits placed in Mr. Kirby’s office, Poague indicates that the father’s wish to make Tony his successor in business flows from the hereditary imperative to pass on the legacy of his ancestors.22 The father’s intention to hand over the values that his entire life has been built upon cannot really be perceived in a negative light, especially if the intention is also based on the wish to secure financial support for his son. The trouble, however, lies in the fact that Mr. Kirby’s fatherly care does not leave any space for Tony’s own mind. Mr. Kirby does not for a moment wonder whether his dreams of prolonging the family banking tradition are shared by his son as well. Furthermore, in the eyes of Mr. Kirby, Tony’s college dream of utilizing energy from grass is considered a mere joke. He is finally forced to listen and to reflect on Tony’s ideas when the latter announces his resignation from the lucrative post of vice president and the intention to leave the city. This event triggers Mr. Kirby’s personal revelation, and at this moment he begins to realize that the angry words of Grandpa Vanderhof uttered in a jail scene accusing him of being a failure as a father might actually be true. Fortunately, not everything is lost yet. Having acknowledged what the real value is in life, with the help of Grandpa Vanderhof Mr. Kirby is offered the chance of a new beginning.23 By the sounds of Polly Wooly Doodle performed in a who in the course of events preceding Christmas Eve undergoes a thorough metamorphosis from a heartless businessman to a warmhearted altruist. 21 Capra, The Name Above The Title, 241. 22 See Poague, Another Frank Capra, 57. 23 Poague suggests that the fact of Mr. Kirby’s playing the harmonica which Alice had once given to Grandpa as a "new birth-day" present (“Anytime I get an

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

79

harmonica duet with Grandpa, Mr. Kirby becomes ritually admitted into the community. The father regains the son’s respect and affection and the transformation of the newly cleansed character is celebrated in a komoslike communal musical festivity. In The Cinema of Frank Capra Poague suggests an interesting idea of parallelism between the characters of Grandpa Vanderhof and A. P. Kirby. “The difference between Kirby and Grandpa Vanderhof is not that great,”24 he notes. This thesis, which contradicts any possibility of categorizing Mr. Kirby as a villain, has its source in the author’s scrutiny of the life paths of both characters. Grandpa Vanderhof, like Mr. Kirby, was once a businessman and similarly suffered from gastric pains symbolizing constant mental business-related anguish. Nonetheless, unlike Mr. Kirby, Grandpa one day felt that such a life did not satisfy him any longer, which was enough for him to get up and leave the office never to return. On the basis of such evidence Poague argues that “Kirby represents what Grandpa would have become had he continued in business. Similarly, however, Vanderhof represents what Kirby might become.”25 And, indeed, the grand finale of the story confirms the accuracy of the above prediction, since the philosophical gap between the two families becomes bridged at last. The final scene of the movie presents the two families gathered together so as to participate in a feast (another heavenly banquet) at Mr. Vanderhof’s house. The humble attitude of everyone at the table (including Mr. and Mrs. Kirby) during Grandpa’s usual prayer signifies Mr. Kirby’s conversion from the villainous to the heroic side. He is no longer a villainhero. He acquires the status of a hero; moreover, because he resolves to base his life upon ideals, he can now be called a romantic character as well. Such a happy ending is a triumph of an “inherent morality” which R. J Reilly describes as “a cosmic moral law, consciously obeyed or disobeyed by the characters, but existing nowhere as a formulated and codified body of doctrine.”26 The concept confirms the idea that what Mr. Kirby was in need of was a stimulus which would help him to acknowledge and recover this inherent morality ever-present within him. Furthermore, the reconciliation of the two families reflects the idea of impulse to buy you a present, that’s your birthday.”) is meaningful, and the act itself gives Mr. Kirby the chance of new birth and new life. See his Another Frank Capra, 61. 24 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 51. 25 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 51. 26 R. J. Reilly, “Tolkien And The Fairy Story” in Understanding The Lord Of The Rings, (ed.) Rose A. Zimbardo and Neil D. Isaacs (New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004), 95.

80

Chapter Three

satisfaction of a “primordial human desire [...] to hold communion with other living things [and other people],”27 which can be included into the scope of vital elements characterising the nature of a visionary romantic fairy tale.

It Happened One Night (1934) I would like to complete my discussion of the level of innocence with the analysis of another paradisal comedy of Frank Capra, It Happened One Night (1934).28 The film is based on the short story by Samuel Hopkins Adams published in 1933, under the title Night Bus. The plot of the movie centres on Ellie Andrews (Claudette Colbert), the daughter of another Wall Street tycoon. In order to escape from the power of her father, she hurriedly marries King Westley (Jameson Thomas), an aristocrat playboy aviator whom Ellie’s father considers a joke and a fake. Alexander Andrews (Walter Connolly) strongly opposes this reckless marriage and so decides to confine his daughter in a luxurious yacht in order to prevent the consummation of the marriage. Nevertheless, after a violent row Ellie manages to escape and begins a journey on a long-distance night bus from Florida to New York with the intention of rejoining her husband. In the course of the journey she meets Peter Warne (Clark Gable), a recently dismissed journalist, who decides to help Ellie reach her destination safely in exchange for exclusive rights to the story of a runaway heiress which he hopes will allow him to regain his job. The matter becomes complicated, however, when the two associates fall in love with each other and the destinations they initially had in mind, as well as purposes they wanted to achieve, become perplexed and unclear. A series of humorous events, including outwitting the detectives sent by Ellie’s father, mutual hitchhiking, and pretending to be husband and wife, unite them with a bond which, in the end, the couple wishes to preserve. A misunderstanding on the night preceding the journey’s end leads the couple to part and almost results in Ellie’s reunion with her “husband”. Luckily, on the day of her church wedding to King Westley, Alexander Andrews, seeing the chance to get rid of his tiresome son-in-law, succeeds in convincing his daughter about the purity of Peter’s intentions and the disinterestedness of his love 27

J. R. R. Tolkien in Reilly, “Tolkien And The Fairy Story,” 94. It Happened One Night swept the Academy Awards ceremony of 1934 winning Oscars in five categories: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Screenplay. It was the only film to win five Oscars in the main categories until One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest in 1975, and the first comedy to win the Best Picture award. 28

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

81

(he did not claim the financial reward for taking care of Ellie during the journey). In a climactic scene the bride-to-be runs away from the altar in a long white gown to rejoin Peter. The couple elope and live happily ever after. Unlike Lady For A Day and You Can’t Take It With You, which in a number of aspects are constructed similarly, It Happened One Night is built on a different pattern. First of all, the difference can be noticed if we recall the previously described groups of characters; i.e. the parents, the young lovers, and the helpers. These categories, as characterized above, cannot be detected in the case of It Happened One Night. The parents are reduced here to the single person of Ellie’s father,29 whose role in the story can be rather associated with the category of the helpers. Peter, on the other hand, is a character devoid of any familial context, and therefore stands on his own. The relationship between the main protagonists is also of a different type than in the case of the young lovers from Lady For A Day and You Can’t Take It With You. Ellie and Peter are not just another couple of love birds oblivious to the problems of the outside world, or struggling for the right to be together against some external obstacles. It is the relationship of a zany, screwball type, where male and female fight against each other for gender dominance and establishing their independence. Love comes to them unexpectedly and, against their will, turning their whole world upside down. The complexity of the relationship between Ellie and Peter has become the subject of the debate concerning the actual genre of the movie, since the story combines the features of two comic subgenres: screwball and romantic comedy. While some critics, e.g. Charles Maland or Richard Blake, decisively perceive It Happened One Night as representative of screwball comedy in its pure form30, others tend to notice numerous elements which they claim to be incompatible with the characteristics of the initial screwball formula. Such an approach can be encountered in a number of Wes Gehring’s works concerning the various comedy types.31 Gehring argues that the movie fulfils the demands of the romantic comedy genre, and for the sake of supporting this thesis he indicates that the main focus of the story in fact revolves around the reality of the events and the love affair of the protagonists (which ultimately ends in marriage), rather

29

Unless we include Peter’s boss who can be considered a father figure as well. See Maland, Frank Capra, 82; and Blake, Screening America, 103-127. 31 See Wes D. Gehring, The World of Comedy: Five Takes On Funny (Davenport: Robert Vincent Publishing, 2001), 132; and Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 11-12, 82-83. 30

82

Chapter Three

than the pure eccentricity of the characters.32 This claim seems to be confirmed when it comes to considering the unusual circumstances in which the love of Ellie and Peter is born, as well as the nature of the feeling itself. As Lesley Brill puts it, “Love between man and woman [is] the most illogical and most common of the miracles of romantic fictions. [...] Like divine grace, love cannot be earned or deserved; it must be ‘amazing.’”33 In accordance with the above determinant of romance, It Happened One Night gains at least one pertinent reason for being included into the scope of the romantic comedy genre. Although the structural pattern of It Happened One Night is different from the two previously discussed movies, the features allowing us to categorise the film as a paradisal comedy are basically parallel. First and foremost, it contains a visionary world which, according to Frye, forms the constituent of the world of imagination comprising “the vision of a decisive act of spiritual freedom, the vision of the recreation of man,” as opposed to external compulsions of the world we live in: “compulsion on action or law; [...] compulsion of thinking, or fact; [...] compulsion on feeling.34 At the very beginning of the movie the strong individualism of the main characters provides us with two separate visions of their future. However, the actions of both Ellie and Peter are stimulated by the same urge to escape from the restrictive roles imposed upon them by various social circumstances. And thus, in order to liberate herself from the authority of her father, Ellie marries King Westley against her father’s will, and next escapes from the yacht, the place of her imprisonment, so as to prove her own independence. Peter, on the other hand, regardless of the fact of being thoroughly devoid of any financial support, flees from what he considers the oppressive demands of his editor. Both characters board the bus to New York with the intention of beginning a new life in the city. The journey, which as the movie unfolds becomes mutual, therefore turns into a quest for fulfilment of thus far unacknowledged needs and ideals which are just about to be awakened and verbalized. Another paradisal element to be traced in It Happened One Night is the cheerful mood of the movie. Again, following the pattern applied in Lady For A Day and You Can’t Take It With You, Capra concentrates mostly upon the development of the main characters and their relationship. Throughout the whole movie the audience is presented with a vast number of witty dialogues as well as brilliant visual humour. The clash of the 32

See Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 12. Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 20. 34 Frye quoted in Reilly, “Tolkien And The Fairy Story,” 104. 33

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

83

strong personalities of Ellie and Peter, the difference of social background, and the hardship of mutual peregrination trigger the gradual transformation of the characters, the process of which is depicted by means of numerous comic encounters. In spite of all the obstacles, the characters keep realizing their plans in a casual manner and without much effort. Similarly, the ultimate goal (which in the course of the story undergoes a vital change) is achieved easily and in a comic fashion. As Capra himself explains, the intention of the movie was “pure entertainment, well-done entertainment, believable entertainment, and unfettered with any ideas, any big moral precepts or anything else. Just sheer entertainment, fun.”35 Nevertheless, it is important to mention that there are a number of scenes which can be viewed as Capra’s social commentary of Depression era America, even though it does not constitute the focal point of the movie. The reality of Ellie and Peter, however, turns out to be another world of a fairy tale, where the usual frustrations of everyday life do not threaten the protagonists (to a high degree), and where ultimately the hero and the heroine can break free from any oppressive boundaries. The lack of a villain in the story is a factor consolidating the idea of including the movie into the category of paradisal comedies. Hence, the plot revolves around the battle of sexes undisturbed by any outer villainous influence. Ellie Andrews and Peter Warne are thus fairy tale-like characters: Ellie–a beautiful rich princess, who outside of the safe surroundings of her father’s castle needs (against her own conviction) protection and guidance; and Peter–a heroic prince helping a damsel in distress. The adventures Ellie and Peter share together during the journey bring the chance to disclose and acknowledge the romantic parts of their characters which causes much bewilderment and amazement for them both. Again, as in Lady For a Day and You Can’t Take It With You, the pattern of a fairy tale-like ending reemerges. The hero and the heroine manage to overcome the barriers and prejudices deriving from the fact they belong to different social classes. Unlike the two movies mentioned above, however, It Happened One Night constitutes a reversed Cinderella motif, since it is the hero who comes from the socially lower strata and, therefore, unlike the classic epic quest hero, his arete is concealed by his social status.36 Thus, although the social 35

Capra quoted in Schickel, The Men Who Made The Movies, 73. See Auden, “The Quest Hero,” p. 37; Auden presents two types of quest heroes: the Epic type, whose “superior arete is manifest to all,” and the other one whose arete is concealed. He argues the second one is a type to be encountered frequently in fairy tales: “The youngest son, the weakest, the least clever, the one whom everybody would judge as least likely to succeed, turns out to be the hero when his manifest betters have failed.” 36

84

Chapter Three

roles are reversed here, the happy komos-like ending resulting in the couple’s pronouncement of the implied wedding vows, repeats the pattern of upward social mobility. The ending of the story uncovers the door to an idealized reality where two such distinct worlds as Ellie’s and Peter’s can join together, and where any possible differences lose their importance. The story, as such, is again a visionary paradisal comedy proving that dreams can come true. Therefore, the nature of It Happened One Night allows us to qualify it as eucatastrophe, i.e. “the true form of the fairytale”,37 including an inevitable happy ending as well as “a piercing glimpse of joy”38 experienced by the viewer as a result of his identification with the characters in the story and satisfying his search for “reality of truth”39 within the story. The romanticism of the plot becomes all the more conspicuous when we consider the setting in which the story takes place. As I have already mentioned in the case of Lady For A Day and You Can’t Take It With You, it is most improbable for such miraculous scenarios to happen within the bleakness of the Great Depression. Yet, Capra’s vision convinces us about the reality of the viewed scenes. The daughter of a beggar can marry a rich count; the business tycoon is ready to give up his financial ambitions for the sake of enjoying the pleasures of everyday life among his family and friends; and the poor reporter can win the affection and be joined in marriage with the heiress to a vast fortune. The fairy tale, though improbable in the social context of 1930s, becomes plausible when narrated within the framework of a realistic visualization of Depression era America. Lady For A Day and You Can’t Take It With You, although devoid of any directly verbalised social commentary, both present at least a glimpse of the city they take place in. Thus, the familiarity of the New York locations intensifies the impression of the authenticity and credibility of the stories. Since the reality of It Happened One Night is mobile, the surroundings of the protagonists constantly keep changing. It is no longer the closed space of rooms, offices, and penthouses of Lady For Day and You Can’t Take It With You. The largest part of It Happened One Night takes place on the road, revealing the hardship of being on the move. The familiarity of the picture would strike a chord with its1930s contemporaries, since, as 37

Tolkien introduced the term eucatastrophe for the sake of depiction of “the true form of the fairy tale” constituting the direct opposition to Tragedy which is “the true form of Drama.” See Tolkien quoted in Reilly, “Tolkien And The Fairy Story,” 102. 38 Tolkien quoted in Reilly, “Tolkien And The Fairy Story,” 102. 39 Tolkien quoted in Reilly, “Tolkien And The Fairy Story,” 102.

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

85

Robert Badal states, “being on the road was very much a part of the times. The Depression was an era of migration.”40 The moment Ellie and Peter abandon the cosiness of stability, i.e. Mr. Andrews' ship, and the editor’s office (equalling the loss of employment) respectively, they decide to share the not-always-easy lot of many fellow Americans of that time. The numerous turns of events expose the couple to travelling together by bus, on foot, by means of hitch-hiking, sharing the cabin of a motor camper, as well as experiencing hunger and the state of being penniless. All these are thoroughly new experiences for such a high society dame as Ellie Andrews, and for her the whole event turns into a lesson in simple humanity. Badal points out that It Happened One Night repeats one of the frequent themes of the 1930s comedies: namely the motif of “wealthy people living somewhat parasitic existences, but finding out about life by associating with regular folk.”41 However, the long journey unveils not only the dark side of middle class American life. The heiress also discovers its positive dimensions. The celebration of the common life is best portrayed in the scene of communal singing on the bus, in which people join in to sing the subsequent verse of The Daring Young Man On The Flying Trapeze. The scene plays a similar role to the climatic performance of Polly Wooly Doodle in You Can’t Take It With You. Like Mr. Kirby’s symbolic act of playing his part in the harmonica duet with Grandpa Vanderhof, Ellie’s joining in the singing signifies the ritual moment of her admittance into society. It Happened One Night, in Badal’s words, is “a picture about real Americans.”42 It also constitutes the realization of the idea of the American Dream, in the light of which the romance of inner transformation, upward social mobility, and reconciliation of any sort cease to be impossible. Joseph McBride points out that “though It Happened One Night was criticized by some for its supposed lack of social consciousness, it hardly could have been such an enormous success if it had been nothing but escapism.”43 The beginning of the movie presents the main characters in their original surroundings. The first scene introduces the viewer into the high class milieu of Ellen Andrews and her father. We find the heroine inside the luxurious cabin of a yacht aboard which she has been imprisoned by her father for marrying the wrong man. Ellie’s fierce argument with her 40 Robert Badal, Romance In Film. From The Silent Era To 1950 (Torrance: Jalmar Press, 2001), 140. 41 Badal, Romance In Film, 141. 42 Badal, Romance In Film, 140. 43 McBride, Frank Capra, 305.

86

Chapter Three

father over the matter of her marriage, followed by upsetting the food tray, signals the fiery temperament of an heiress. In the following sequence of a quickly-paced scene her father slaps her in the face (which, inferring from Ellie’s surprise, has never happened before), in the subsequent shot she unbolts the door and manages to escape by means of jumping overboard into the sea. Next, we encounter Ellie at the bus station where she is about to embark on the long distance night bus to New York with the intention of rejoining her newly-wed husband, the playboy King Westley. These opening sequences of the movie alone provide us with an initial profile of Ellie’s character. She constitutes a representative of her own class who has never worked for a living and who has always had everything done for her. She is pampered and egocentric and at this stage the label of a “spoilt brat” seems to be quite adequate. The same bus station becomes the introductory scene of the story’s hero, Peter Warne. The shot discloses a crowd of people gathered around a telephone booth inside of which a tall, handsome man leads a drunken conversation with his boss, the editor of the New York Mail, during which he gets fired for writing an article in free verse. After a short verbal exchange the editor hangs up but Peter continues to speak pretending to be telling off his boss. He announces he is quitting his job and “ends” the conversation victoriously earning the admiration of his fellow reporters. Now jobless but proud, Peter makes his way towards the New York bus accompanied by his equally drunken companions chanting: “Make way for the king!” Thus, the first encounter with Peter depicts another stereotype; the character of the cynical and hard-boiled reporter was recognizable to the Depression audience thanks to its popularization by the early 1930s newspaper comedies. Elizabeth Kendall describes the type as a “rogue newsman who [is] as rascally, soused, and undependable as he [is] talented.”44 Hence, the early part of the story provides us with the stereotypical figures of a “brat” and a “lout”.45 Picturing the characters in the frames of stereotypical social roles is, however, just the opening strategy since both stereotypes are bound to be outgrown in the course of the development of the plot throughout which the protagonists will each undergo a vital transformation. The relationship between Ellie and Peter commences by coincidence the moment they both board the bus. The characters are introduced by means of a small disagreement over the seat they end up sharing together. After a few hours they formulate opinions about each other and these are 44

Elizabeth Kendall, The Runaway Bride (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1990), 41. Both terms are used and discussed in Thomas E. Wartenberg, Unlikely Couples: Movie Romance As Social Criticism (Boulder: Westview Press, 1999), 49-66.

45

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

87

far from positive. Ellie perceives Peter as an impudent brute, which makes her decide to erect the barrier indicating her high social status. To Peter, Ellie is nothing more than a high-class “spoilt brat” whom he holds in contempt for her apparent ignorance of life.46 The stubborn resolution to stick to the initial appraisal of one another results in the creation of numerous frequently contradictory roles that the characters will undertake, choosing to ignore any evidence of the factual state. This phenomenon has been pointed out in Carney’s American Vision: Peter and Ellie keep getting trapped and embarrassed by their stylistic choices throughout the film. They pick up and discard dozens of prefabricated roles in the course of the film, many of them inconsistent with each other, and most of them silly and childish. Ellie plays the role of independent and liberated woman, the damsel in distress, the high-society princess, and the frightened little girl, breathlessly, one after another. Peter plays the romantic Romeo, the macho man, the male protector, the worldly-wise teacher, the cynical or disinterested reporter, and the irritated guardian, to name only most obvious and mutually contradictory. Each role or style sooner or later comically disintegrates.47

In spite of the initial reluctance, Ellie and Peter consent to travel together, each for a different reason. The haste with which Ellie commenced her journey exposed her to travelling with just one suitcase (a style unfamiliar to high-class standards) which, in addition, gets stolen during the first stop of the bus. To make things worse, thanks to a prolonged breakfast Ellie fails to get back to the bus on time. To her great astonishment the bus does not wait for her return but Peter does. The morning papers have already announced the story of Ellie’s escape and Peter saw in it the chance for himself. He promises to help her get to New York safely in return for the exclusive right to report her story, which he supposes will help him regain his job at his newspaper. Thus, Ellie must rely on Peter with the hope that he will not turn her over to her father. Later on in the journey, having been saved by Peter from a brazen passenger, Ellie also begins to realize her need for Peter’s company and protection. Peter, on the other hand, discovers Ellie’s vulnerability, which causes his irritation (“You’re helpless as a baby”), but at the same time evokes his knightly instinct to help a lady in trouble. The further course of the characters’ interaction displays the broader complexity of the matter. Peter and Ellie turn out not to be the kind of people they initially appeared, and, hence, the story can be considered a tale of mistaken identities where, 46 47

See Wartenberg, Unlikely Couples, 49. Carney, American Vision, 236.

88

Chapter Three

step by step, the protagonists’ real personalities are being unmasked. As Poague notices, “the comic movement of the film demonstrates how one goes about getting past categories to people, shedding false assumptions, and moving on to support renewed relationships.”48 The stereotypes that Peter and Ellie have registered at the beginning subsequently collapse and it comes as a surprise to them both. The previously discussed scene of communal singing on a bus signals the beginning of the phase of the melting of Ellie’s prejudice-based defences. Slowly she becomes attracted to Peter’s world, which tempts her with the allure of freedom and the sheer joy of living. Ellie’s original assumption that there is nothing more to Peter than harshness and cold cynicism starts to crumble at some point and it becomes conspicuous that she becomes increasingly thrilled by his lifestyle. Meanwhile, Peter resolves to become a teacher. An opportunity for exercising his newly adopted role occurs at the autocamp where the passengers stop for the night. First, however, Peter and Ellie are bound to discover an intimate dimension of their relationship, which neither of them has expected. Since on account of limited means Peter registers them as husband and wife, they share one cabin. The situation meets with Ellie’s confusion and embarrassment at first but it soon gives way to the conviction about the honesty of Peter’s actions. This is the first of the three nights they will spend together on their way, and probably the most meaningful one, as it constitutes the moment the relationship between Ellie and Peter takes a new direction. Being aware of the scene’s intimacy and its possible sexual connotations, Peter tries to hide its awkwardness behind the nonchalant fast speech he delivers. The sharply paced witty sequence including Peter’s famous strip routine,49 and his resourceful creation of the “walls of Jericho” (a blanket hung across the room on a chord as a means of separating the beds), clearly indicates the sexual tension between the two. Therefore, in spite of various barriers that originally seemed to place the characters at a distance too great to be bridged, at this point they both begin to sense the awaking attraction. The meaning of the scene is strengthened by the lunar lighting and the image of pouring rain visible through the cabin’s window–the symbolism of which can be understood as suggesting the fertile inclination of the characters’ relationship. 48

Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 156. In the famous sequence of a strip routine Peter unbuttons the shirt and reveals his bare chest. The scene is said to have revolutionized male fashion in 1930s and resulted in the decrease of demand for undershirts (See Jan F. Lewandowski, Wielkie kino. 150 filmów które musisz zobaczyü [Katowice: Videograf II, 2006], 30).

49

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

89

The next morning brings some more surprising discoveries concerning each other. The day starts for Ellie with the picture of Peter occupied with domestic chores. As soon as she wakes up she is scolded for sleeping too long. This time Peter adopts the role of father-tutor. He hands Ellie a towel, his robe and his slippers and urges her to take a shower. Throughout these sequences, the viewer witnesses the process of Ellie’s crossing social boundaries. Having spent the night in Peter’s pyjamas, she now has to learn some more rules of social interactions. In order to use a shower, she must go outside and stand in line together with other bus passengers. “She is adapting gradually to Peters world, literally standing in his shoes,”50 as Blake comments. When she returns to the cabin she finds Peter awaiting her with the breakfast he has prepared in the meantime. In the following scene, Ellie receives one more lesson, this time in the subject of dunking a doughnut in a proper manner: “Dunking is an art. Don’t let it soak so long. [...] You leave it in too long, it gets soft and falls off. [...] $20 million and you don’t know how to dunk.” Later on in the movie she will also be instructed in a proper way of piggyback riding and he accepts all these lessons with charm and happiness of a child. She is willing to learn and she clearly enjoys the experience of being an ordinary human being. Moreover, she starts to realize that she is beginning to enjoy Peter’s company as well. The initial reluctance towards Peter seems to have vanished with the onset of a new day, and Ellie’s radiance in the morning autocamp scene conspicuously signifies the change. She now wants Peter to understand and like her: You think I’m a fool and a spoilt brat. Perhaps I am. Although I don’t know how I can be. People who are spoilt are accustomed to having their own way. I never have. On the contrary, I’ve always been told what to do and how to do it and when and with whom.

Peter, however, still plays the role of an irritated cynic, who whatever he does is just for the sake of his own interest. His attitude alters after a masterly performance they deliver in front of the detectives hired by Ellie’s father to find the missing heiress. Ellie and Peter improvise the scene of a violent quarrel between a husband and wife and the detectives retreat leaving the Mr and a fabricated Mrs Warne in the course of a furious row. The success of “the great deception”, as Peter calls it, makes him discard his mask of iron-clad cynicism and he does not hide his amazement and admiration for Ellie’s spontaneous response to the need of the moment. The couple burst into laughter and the bond between them 50

Blake, Screening America, 121.

90

Chapter Three

becomes stronger. Against his initial assumptions, Peter begins to realize that his hitherto existing image of Ellie has been much mistaken. Although he refuses to admit it aloud, the fact that underneath the facade of a “spoilt brat” there is a lively human being and a warm emotional woman becomes explicit. Such an alteration in the mutual perception of the characters provides a proof to the previously formulated thesis of a tale of mistaken identities. Poague categorises It Happened One Night as a Comedy of Errors in which “stereotypes are mistaken for individuals.”51 This statement probably does not need further defence. It is not only the stereotype of a rich spoilt brat that crumbles in the course of the action. The attraction of Ellie towards Peter, whom she had earlier registered as a crude boor, is discovered by her with real amazement as well. It takes some time before she can acknowledge that the role of a self-interested reporter Peter maintains is merely a pose. “People are too complex to be easily categorised. [...] It is [the] tendency to oversimplify, to assume that reality will match one’s own misguided expectations, that is the major villain of the film,”52 Poague points out. However, it does not seem to be such a “villain”, if it turns out necessary for triggering the process of the characters ultimate recognition. Having acknowledged their misjudgements concerning each other, Ellie and Peter pass on to the next stage of their relationship. Blake, considering the subject of the characters’ mutual journey and the development of their relationship, recalls Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales: “During their travels the pilgrims discover and reveal quite a bit about themselves, and in the act of discovery they are transformed.”53 And, indeed, the journey of Ellie and Peter symbolically stands for the process of self-recognition as well. Locked in the claustrophobic world of her rich father and restrained by the rules of aristocratic bon ton, Ellie has never had a chance either to learn the ways of the outside world or to look into her own inner self. At last, weariness with the sterility of her world leaves her no choice but to cling to the first opportunity of liberation. She deliberately “takes a plunge”,54 as Blake comments in reference to her jumping overboard, which can be interpreted as a symbolic act of breaking free from her father’s power and “diving” into new life. Ellie initially seeks the means of her escape in marriage to King Westley, unconscious of the fact that the act can only mean transfer from the confinement of her 51

Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 157. Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 156. 53 Blake, Screening America, 117. 54 Blake, Screening America, 118. 52

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

91

father’s world to a similar one, which additionally will condemn her to the necessity of sharing her life with a man she does not love. It is only when by mere coincidence she becomes entwined with the utterly different world of Peter that she discovers her own ability to enjoy pleasures of common interactions with people and acknowledges the fact that life can be fun. Ellie’s journey then becomes a romantic quest for freedom, selfrecognition, love, and ideals she has been unable to experience so far. It is this feeling of Ellie’s “sterile hopelessness”55 that Peter mistakes for upper class-bound haughtiness which results in his obstinate denial to admit his misjudgement. Hence, his attitude toward Ellie gets formulated during their first encounter on a bus when he acknowledges her lack of experience and naiveté, and is willing to associate it with spoiltbrattishness. Peter considers himself to be a man of the world and is anxious to uphold this image in the eyes of Ellie. Peter’s harshness in the first scenes of his interaction with Ellie is, therefore, one of his roles. At the beginning of the film, in Carney’s words, Peter is “the playful, detached master of the roles and movements.”56 This picture collapses as the initial indifference gradually transforms into concern, and finally into commitment. In the course of the movie the viewer is provided with a variety of scenes presenting Peter in a light quite different from the one imposed by the stereotype of a cold-hearted newspaper man. Elizabeth Kendall points to several occasions picturing Peter in domestically inclined circumstances (e.g. the first autocamp scene).57 Such situations stand strongly at odds with the above-mentioned stereotype. Moreover, they prove (as in the case of Ellie) that beneath the iron mask of cynicism, there is a man of flesh and blood. Kendall perceives him as a typical representative of the Depression era man: Peter Warne [...] has no pretences to social power. He’s broke; he’s out of a job; he can’t even run fast enough to catch the guy who stole Ellie’s suitcase. He’s a surprisingly frank embodiment of the ineffectuality of the American male in the face of the Depression. He can do only one thing well: take care of someone who’s lost.58

Andrew Bergman, on the other hand, examines Peter’s character from another angle and describes him as “part the hack reporter [...], part the

55

See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 165. Carney, American Vision, 238. 57 See Kendall, The Runaway Bride, 45. 58 Kendall, The Runaway Bride, 45. 56

92

Chapter Three

small town idealist.”59 Apart from the evident complexity of Peter’s personality, both of the quotations likewise indicate the romantic side of the protagonist. Like Ellie, he is an idealist. However, because of his lower social status, he is confined by the bleak circumstances of his times. Nevertheless, Peter’s romanticism, notwithstanding his initial prejudices towards Ellie, commands him to act chivalrously. He serves the damsel in distress, unconsciously revealing the nobleness of his heart, while, at the same time, he tries to maintain the protective pose of cynical coldness. As Carney notices, both Ellie and Peter “use [their] ability to play [...] as a mode of evasion, a way of avoiding authentic emotional or ethical involvements.”60 As I have already mentioned, any means of self-protection or evasion are sooner or later bound to fail as the bond between the protagonists gets tightened in the course of the adventures they share together during the subsequent stages of the journey. Soon after reentering the bus after the night spent at the autocamp, the couple are forced to leave it again as one of the passengers recognizes Ellie from the front pages of the papers and is interested in claiming the prize her father assigned for the information about his daughter's whereabouts. The next part of the journey is, therefore, the most trying one because of the lack of finances as well as the characters’ uncertainty if the goals they had at the start are still of any value. The moment of epiphany comes the following night which the couple are forced to spend in a hayfield; the romantic moonlight and nature surrounding Ellie and Peter indicate the growing attachment to each other. Although the words they utter still aim at contradicting the existence of any feeling between them (“You can leave any time you see fit. Nobody’s holding you here,” says Ellie), the actions cannot be mistaken for anything else. Peter proves his concern about Ellie’s comfort by preparing her hay bed and searching for food. Ellie, on the other hand, in spite of her declaration of self-sufficiency (“I can get along”), panics as soon as Peter disappears out of sight, and she assumes he has actually abandoned her for good. Ellie’s hysterical reaction reveals her need and desire for Peter’s company; now she is truly afraid of losing him. The 59

Andrew Bergman, “Frank Capra And Screwball Comedy” in Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, 72. The term “small town idealist” refers here to the character of Longfellow Deeds (Mr. Deeds Goes To Town), who unlike Peter Warne, came from a small town. By means of this comparison Bergman intends to highlight similarity of both protagonists' characters. Capra’s notion of “small town” stands for all the virtues of American social life, and associates with fulfillment of the American Dream values. 60 Carney, American Vision, 238.

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

93

romantic visualisation of the scene: moonlit faces and impressionist-like illumination of the whole setting, intensifies the conviction that, at this point, both Ellie and Peter wish to get neither to New York, nor back to reality at all. The scene depicts the strong sexual magnetism between the two and it is clearly much more intense here than in the autocamp scene. It signifies the transition of the protagonists to the next stage of inner transformation. Carney notices that “every element of the hayfield scene: nature, romantic lighting, and most of all, [...] all the pregnant pauses and silences between the two of them communicate the opposite of their toughness, independence, and self-sufficiency.”61 Once again, Ellie and Peter are bound to discard the roles they intended to play in front of each other, and although the feeling has not been verbalised, yet the consciousness of its existence confuses them. Capra makes his characters experience their epiphany in silence. Nevertheless, the crucial moment is highlighted by the watery image of dew covering the haystacks–Capra’s characteristic symbol of fertility. The night hay-stack scene is followed by a happy sequence of Peter’s tutoring Ellie in the art of hitch-hiking. He prides himself on being an expert, which in a most comic fashion gets refuted after an entire column of cars passes them without paying much notice. Ellie turns out to be more resourceful in this case and, to Peter’s astonishment and indignation, she makes the first car come to a halt by means of exposing her leg while pretending to adjust the garter. This scene is not the first one to illustrate Ellie’s attempts to break free from the sterile habits of high society ways. Like Peter, she wants to improvise and taste life and its enjoyments and to get rid of the shackles of her old self. Carney points out that “the ideal of leaving the shell of the old self behind, of making a new identity for oneself, [...] links [Capra’s characters] [...] with the Puritans who came three centuries earlier.”62 Considering Ellie Andrews, the statement is adequate; however, the situation is quite the reverse in the case of the heroine of Capra’s previous movie, Platinum Blonde (1931). The structure of both It Happened One Night and Platinum Blonde is similar: both stories develop the subject of cross class romance and upward social movement; both stories present a working hero, a journalist, falling in love with a rich heiress; and, similarly, both couples get married in spite of their social difficulties. Nevertheless, the heroines differ from each other immensely. While Anne Schuyler (Jean Harlow) turns out to be precisely what she appears to be at 61 62

Carney, American Vision, 242. Carney, American Vision, 238.

94

Chapter Three

the very beginning, i.e. a rich high class woman deeply rooted in her milieu and enjoying her luxurious lifestyle, Ellie Andrews is a romantic improviser and she establishes her rebellious character and desire to create a new identity as early as the first scene of the movie. Anne Schuyler’s conviction that she is able to induce her husband, Stew Smith (Robert Williams), to give up his profession, friends, and habits and to transform him into one of her own kind inevitably leads the couple’s relationship to an unhappy ending. Having acknowledged the fact that all that awaits him in the confinement of Anne’s world is being “a bird in a gilded cage”, Stew Smith decides to break free and to leave his rich wife. He returns to his old life which, as Capra portrays it, is far more enjoyable, exciting, and lively than the stiff and sterile world of the Schuylers. It Happened One Night pictures a different situation. Ellie Andrews is keen to learn and open herself up to each new experience emerging before her. She enjoys improvising and in the course of her journey she acknowledges that in order to feel real freedom, she needs to break away from high class sterility. Contrary to Anne and Stew, the success of Ellie’s relationship with Peter lies in her acceptance of him as he is. Moreover, not only does she accept Peter as he is, she also likes the lifestyle he represents and therefore does not attempt to change it. Having recognized herself in love, Ellie deliberately delays the moment of reaching New York and insists on staying overnight in a motel. This final night the couple spend together before the journey is over constitutes the ultimate break of the boundaries; the scene presents Ellie and Peter in beds separated by the familiar “walls of Jericho.” The sequence lacks the cheerful atmosphere prevailing earlier in the movie. Being on the verge of achieving their final destination, the vision of parting which looms over the characters causes a gloomy mood mirroring the state of their anxiety and uncertainty about the future. It is this particular scene in which Peter’s personality of a romantic hero is utterly revealed. In response to Ellie’s question if he had ever been in love, Peter depicts a picture of his visionary dream of ideal love and ideal companionship: I saw an island in the Pacific once. Never been able to forget it. That’s where I’d like to take [the woman I love]. She’d have to be the kind of girl who’d jump in the surf with me and love it as much as I did. You know, the nights when you, the moon, and the water all become one. You feel you’re a part of something big and marvellous. That’s the only place to live. Why, the stars are so big and clear overhead you feel you could reach up and stir them around. [...] Boy, if I could ever find a girl who was hungry for those things.

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

95

Poague describes Peter as a “reporter tired of being just a reporter. He is a poet at heart.”63 And it is this suddenly unmasked poetry of his soul (in which Carney finds the features of an Italian opera64) that makes Ellie cross the boundary of the “walls of Jericho” and cling to him with the plea: “Take me with you, Peter. [...] I want to do all those things you talked about.” However, Peter astounded by Ellie’s proposal, initially dismisses her. He can reply only after some time during which Ellie, overcome by weeping, falls asleep. This unexpected turn of events and a few moments of brooding over the matter arouses Peter’s hope for what he so far has not even had the courage to fantasize about, namely the possibility that they both may have a chance to become the characters of such a fairy tale, and to realize his visionary dream at last. However, Peter’s pride forbids him to ask Ellie to marry him with no money in his hands and, therefore, he decides to set off to town in search of funds he hopes to get from his boss in return for the story of his prospective marriage to Ellie Andrews. In Poague’s words: “He decides to play prince charming, riding off in the night to bring the talisman back before daybreak, so that he can awaken his princess with a triumphant kiss.”65 This romantically-driven spontaneous act initiates the flow of comic errors once more, since, having been awaken by the suspicious landlady and informed about the absence of Peter, the princess assumes that she has been intentionally deserted as well as ultimately rejected by her prince. Now broke and devoid of any financial resources, Ellie rings her father who, by the time Peter has completes his plan successfully, has collected his daughter from the motel. The chain of misunderstandings leads Ellie’s father to insist on having a proper church wedding with King Westley as a means of settling down and putting an end to all Ellie’s problems. Peter, on the other hand, believes he has been deliberately “taken for a ride” and, in a letter to Mr. Andrews, demands refunding of the sum of $39.60 he incurred while taking care of Ellie, which, as he says, is a matter of principle. The sequences preceding the wedding provide the viewer with an opportunity to get acquainted with the character of Mr. Andrews. Up to this point Capra’s development of this figure is aimed at imposing the image of Mr. Andrews as a Caprian stereotypical picture of a rich magnate who is used to having the last word in every case and is convinced of being entitled to it on the ground of the superiority of his social status. Throughout the film Capra presents him in the role of a tyrant standing in 63

Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 154. See Carney, American Vision, 247. 65 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 164. 64

96

Chapter Three

the way of his daughter’s happiness; the angry father arranging the search for Ellie and appointing the prize for any information about her. Finally, when we observe the pompous escort accompanying Ellie’s return home, we still tend to believe in Mr. Andrews’ villainous nature. Nevertheless, the final part of the movie refutes the incomplete portrayal. The fact that we have been misled about the character of Ellie’s father is especially clear when it is contrasted with the stiff artificiality of King Westley. The conversation between the father and daughter just before the ceremony reveals the unsuspected warm relationship and attachment between them, as well as clarifying any doubts as to the reasons for Mr. Andrews’s actions concerning Ellie. He turns out to be a loving father and a wisely practical man, and additionally gifted with a good sense of humour. Mr. Andrews ascertains that Ellie’s odd conduct on the day of her wedding cannot be put down to the usual behaviour proper to brides on their “big day”. He decides to interrogate her and, having discovered the reason of her grief, suggests calling off the ceremony and pursuing the desires of the heart. Subsequently he decides to summon Peter Warne to his house in order to gain the full view of the matter. Peter pays the visit and in the angry fashion of a haughty child admits that he is in love with Ellie. Peter’s visit becomes the cause of the next misunderstanding between him and Ellie, since she assumes the purpose of his reappearance is solely a financial one. After that she refuses to talk to her father about anything concerning Peter and the ceremony begins. The scene of the marriage ceremony, organised in the best style of high class lavishness, presents Ellie walking down the aisle escorted by her father. Mr. Andrews decides this is the last chance to dissuade her from getting entangled for life with a man he still considers a mug, and tells her that Peter is an alright-guy and that he did not come to claim the financial reward. He also informs her that he arranged a car waiting for her at the back gate just in case she should change her mind about marrying King Westley. Ellie does nothing until the minister utters the ultimate question: “Wilt thou take this man to be thy wedded husband, as long as ye both shall live?”66 The subsequent shots present the crowd of confused spectators watching Ellie in her white gown and a long veil rushing down the lawn to the car awaiting her. The car disappears out of sight and the next shot registers the figure of Mr. Andrews smoking a cigar with contentment. Mr. Andrews’ role in this fairy tale is, thus, essential for the final happy reunion of the lovers. Thus, the initial evaluation of his character, which 66

The scene may be argued to significantly highlight the role of the “church” and the authentic marriage ceremony in causing Ellie to search her heart and conscience for the truth of her feelings at the conclusive moment.

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

97

Capra prompted the viewer to make so hastily, proves to be erroneous. Therefore, recalling the three categories of the paradisal characters I discussed earlier in the chapter in relation to Lady For A Day and You Can’t Take It With You, Mr. Andrews can be included into the combined category of the parents and the helpers. Considering a flying carpet escape from the wedding ceremony Mr. Andrews provides for his daughter, it can be argued that a trace of magical powers (claimed by Frye to be characteristic for such type of characters) can be observed about Mr. Andrews. Therefore, he certainly fits into the canon of old and wise parental figures who have important influence upon the ultimate outcome of the young lovers’ struggle. Mr. Andrews’s presence and attitude towards his daughter’s dilemmas consolidate the premise that the world of It Happened One Night is a romance. There is yet one more important scene in the movie after Ellie’s climatic escape. Capra presents the picture of another autocamp where Ellie and Peter spend their wedding night; however, we do not see the characters themselves there. Instead, we are offered the chance to witness the conversation of the astounded owners of the place discussing the peculiarity of the couple who had asked for a rope, a blanket, and a toy trumpet “on a night like this”. The following sequence shows the cabin; the sound of the trumpet is heard, and “the walls of Jericho” fall down. Thus, the last sign of the boundary between the two ceases to exist. The significance of this scene lies in the symbolic depiction of the completion of the characters’ transformation. The mutual experiences of the romantic quest made both Ellie and Peter more vulnerable and more human. The final reunion also signifies the ultimate “collapse of ego boundaries”67 between the characters, which Joseph Kupfer connects with the growth of virtuous friendship. Peter is now able to verbalise his romantic longing for an ideal partner and admit that he loves Ellie, although such an act deprives him of any means of defending the image of a tough guy he had tried to maintain so hard. On the other hand, Ellie’s spectacular escape 67 Joseph H. Kupfer, Visions Of Virtue In Popular Film (Boulder: Westview Press, 1999), 66. In one of the chapters Kupfer discusses the nature of the relationship between the main characters in John Huston’s The African Queen (1951). There are numerous analogies to be traced between the stories of Rose Sayer and Charlie Allnut and Ellen Andrews and Peter Warne. Like Ellie and Peter, Rose and Charlie come from two socially distinct realities and represent different kind of lifestyle. Furthermore, similarly to Ellie and Peter, Rose and Charlie are compelled to share time and space together, which ultimately leads to collapsing of class prejudices and ego boundaries and results in the characters’ recognition of mutual values and subsequently falling in love and getting married. (See 61-89).

98

Chapter Three

from the wedding indicates an important change as well. Kendall points out that the scene is “a reprise of [her] initial escape from the yacht, but with a new dimension represented by newsreel cameras.”68 She explains that while the first escape was a spontaneous “private” act, the second one becomes a “public” decision witnessed by a vast amount of people and recorded by the cameramen hired for the occasion. At the end of the movie, then, Ellie is not only an heiress but also a citizen.69 The above examples allow us to formulate the premise that romantic love is the tool by means of which any kind of obstacles can be overcome. It Happened One Night is a story of reconciliation “between the classes and the genders, the generations, between the Depression anxiety and happy-go-lucky optimism.”70 First and foremost, however, it is a visionary fairy tale in which the hero and heroine discover the romantic depths within themselves and, through the subsequent stages of their perilous journey and brave climatic struggle, succeed in achieving their mutual goal. Carney notices that the place Ellie and Peter choose for their wedding night is not the Pacific island of Peter’s visionary dream but a shabby motel.71 Nevertheless, in the context of the whole story, this shabby motel acquires the metaphorical meaning; it becomes the sanctuary where the lovers can be finally exalted and united in a heavenly banquet. Ellie and Peter form “a new model of the American couple,”72 Kendall claims. She explains her statement by indicating that in order to produce such a social unit Capra deliberately mixed up the features defining different classes and genders. As a result we gain the characters who reflect the reversed configuration of stereotypical traits: “The man isn’t always supermanly; the woman isn’t always ultrafemale. Each possesses qualities that should by convention belong to the other.”73 Peter proves to constitute a mixture of a iron-clad cynical man of the city and a romantic idealist. He is an Everyman who is compelled to give up the protective pose of a tough guy the moment he gets entangled with by a love bond with Ellie. At the same time, however, although socially beneath Ellie, he becomes her protector throughout the journey. Ellie, on the other hand, requires Peter’s protection in spite of being a rich heiress, which places her in a socially higher position than Peter.74 At times she displays a 68

Kendall, The Runaway Bride, 48. See Kendall, The Runaway Bride, 48. 70 Kendall quoted in Gehring, Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy, 5. 71 See Carney, American Vision, 247. 72 Kendall, The Runaway Bride, 45. 73 Kendall, The Runaway Bride, 45. 74 See Kendall, The Runaway Bride, 42. 69

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

99

propensity to improvise which stands rather at odds with the picture of the sterile world she originates from. Thus, the conventionality of the roles is disturbed and features of both characters intertwine with each other. Such an original development of the characters signifies the wind of change in perception of the social situation of the 1930s’ America. McBride describes It Happened One Night as the story of the proletarian hero humbling, educating, and finally winning over the “spoilt brat” heiress, a story that not only provide[s] the fantasy of upward mobility, both sexual and economic, but, more important, represent[s] the levelling of class barriers in the Depression.75

The movie is the story of the humbling and educating not only of one character but of both of them since Ellie has to learn to be “one of the folk”. In order to do this, she has to swallow her pride of a privileged heiress and to lower herself to the level of an ordinary woman and a citizen. Kendall states that “as the lovers negotiate equality across the gulf of class and gender, they are metaphorically healing the painful divisions in American society.”76 Therefore, the film can be considered a cross-class romance representing Capra’s idea for renewal of democracy. Both characters acknowledge the need to be educated in democratic values and the success of their love affair illustrates Capra’s hope for possibility of democratic society’s recuperation.77 It is the transformation of Ellie which is particularly significant. As Blake points out: Her changes are crucial for Capra’s belief that the wealthy are really good people, and that once the rich and the poor begin to understand each other, then the rich will solve America’s social problems without government interference.78

The motif of transformation and recovery (understood as “renewal of health [...] and re-gaining of a clear view”79) of the members of the upper class reappears frequently in Capra’s movies: Anthony P. Kirby, the rich plutocrat in You Can’t Take It With You, under the influence of romantic visions and the ideology of Grandpa Vanderhof, undergoes a transformation and at the end of the movie which recognises democratic values as a proper way of achieving harmony and happiness in life. The 75

McBride, Frank Capra, 305. Kendall, The Runaway Bride, 49. 77 See Wartenberg, Unlikely Couples, 58. 78 Blake, Screening America, 119. 79 Tolkien quoted in Reilly, “Tolkien And The Fairy Story,” 99. 76

100

Chapter Three

climax of Lady For A Day presents the communal transformation of New York high society members who gets inspired by the idea of providing disinterested help to Apple Annie. It Happened One Night is an example of a double transformation: first and foremost it is Ellie who learns the ways of the common people in the course of her journey, and subsequently gains “a clear view”80 and becomes changed from an heiress to a human. At the end of the film it is also Mr. Andrews who gets transformed. He no longer demands Ellie to bend to his will but acknowledges her right to live her own life. What is even more important, Mr. Andrews approves of Peter and his lifestyle, notwithstanding the difference in social status. This signifies the magnate’s readiness for accepting the necessity of social changes. In Blake’s words: “the classes [get] joined, having discovered there is more uniting them than separating them.”81 In the case of all three movies the climactic scenes constitute the moments of social epiphany ultimately leading to creation of utopian community which, in Capra’s understanding, is essential for the redemption of American society as well as for the realization of the American Dream. In relation to its setting in time and lyricism of Capra’s narration, It's A Wonderful Life is called by Kendall “a Depression pastorale”.82 In spite of the rather dim political and social situation of Depression era America, the main characters’ experiences are far from gloomy. The various comic coincidences Ellie and Peter are submitted to make them explore other dimensions of American reality. Forced to exchange their bus journey for hiking, and thus deprived of any facilities of civilisation, the couple can experience a union with nature. They cross a stream, sleep in a haystack, feed on raw carrots, are exposed to the changeable weather, and all this turns their journey into a quest of mutual and self-discovery. It is when surrounded by nature that Ellie and Peter begin to realize their mutual attraction. Capra’s depiction of the pouring rain jingling against the motocamp window lit by the bright moonlight, as well as the scene of crossing the stream in order to find the safe shelter for the night in the hayfield, can serve as examples of the romantic visualisation aiming to convey the message without the use of words. Water is a very crucial symbol for Capra as it “represents a rite of passage”.83 A number of examples can be found to support the thesis. Ellie and Peter get cleansed of their stiff social boundaries by the sudden downpour which sentences them to sharing the journey together. Alice Sycamore and Tony Kirby in 80

Tolkien quoted in Reilly, “Tolkien And The Fairy Story,” 99. Blake, Screening America, 125. 82 Kendall, The Runaway Bride, 47. 83 Blake, Screening America, 124. 81

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

101

You Can’t Take It With You prefer to spend their first date in Central Park rather than at the Monte Carlo ballet, which was their initial intention. Similarly to the rainy autocamp scene in It Happened One Night, it is late at night that Alice and Tony, drowned in the conversation, sit on a bench with a glimmering moonlit lake behind them. Tony delivers a bitter speech concerning his youthful dreams he had to abandon for the sake of continuing his father’s business. The lunar light illuminates the characters’ faces and the surrounding trees and reflects in the lake which turns the scene into an impressionistic picture prophesying the changes which are about to ensue. Again, water in this case can be considered as a purifying source designed to intensify the moment of a personal revelation which will provide Tony with the strength and determination to struggle for his dreams and visions. We encounter a similarly constructed scene in Lady For A Day. It is dark again and this time the viewer witnesses a romantic love scene in the garden. The silhouettes of Louise and Carlos are blurred by the moonlit fountain through which the figures are presented. This vision could easily be a watercolour picture depicting the two lovers eternalised on a canvas in an epiphanic moment of pregnant romantic bewilderment. In the next sequence, Carlos’ place is taken by Annie. The picture, however, is now reversed and the still brightly lit fountain twinkles behind the two women. Louise tells her mother how happy she is and pleads with Annie to assure her that everything is going to be alright. Holding Louise tight in her arms, Annie lifts her eyes towards heaven, folds her hands as in a prayer and, immobilised in the humble pose of a Holy Madonna, whispers that “nothing is going to happen”. The image of water in this scene reflects the fertile expectations of Louise, as well as Annie’s desperate hope for a fruitful happy ending to this fairy tale. The symbols of water and moonlight seem to be interconnected in Capra’s stylistics. Water imagery and rain in particular, according to Carney, is sexually suggestive84 and therefore signifies the fertile nature of the characters’ relationship. Moonlight, on the other hand, can be associated with romantic love and the longing for ideals. Louise and Carlos make their love vows in the moonlight; it is by the shimmering moonlit lake that Tony Kirby describes his idealistic romantic visions; Peter Warne reveals the romanticism of his soul and heart in the moonlit room of the autocamp; and finally, the soft lunar light illuminates the figure of Ellie the moment she crosses the walls of Jericho to plead for Peter’s love. These are all profoundly emotional scenes and even the 84

See Carney, American Vision, 240.

102

Chapter Three

language the characters use in all three cases becomes inspired and poetic. It seems, then, that in unity with nature the characters acquire the consciousness of belonging to the universe and it transforms them into poets. In summary, it becomes transparent that Capra’s paradisal universe is full of poetic idealists and romantic knights and damsels struggling to maintain “the integrity of the innocent world against the assault of experience.”85 The characters are in a constant quest for establishing an idealized world of childhood dreams here on Earth. In this world sterile social boundaries are replaced by the vision of the utopian community in which the citizens live their lives in accordance with the Lincolnian motto: “With malice towards none, with charity to all.”86 Hence, Capra’s paradisal world is devoid of real villains, and although at times some of the characters lose their ability to recognize true values, this state is usually temporary. As Maland states: “Capra defend[s] characters who [are] much more concerned with having fulfilling lives and close human ties than with accumulating wealth.”87 It is therefore essential for the characters to undergo a transformation in the course of which they can experience epiphanic revelations and acquire a chance to re-determine their life-priorities and recover the proper perspective. Capra’s paradisal romance presents love as a divine notion; love equips young people with strength and courage to fight for it although a happy ending is not always certain. Brill explains that romantic love “has nothing to do with laws, or force, or logic.”88 The young couple are not necessarily perfectly matched. They are often divided by social rules, unfavourable circumstances, or even by the distinction between their own personalities and temperaments. Nevertheless, love is destined to reconcile any kind of difference, which 85

Frye quoted in Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 6. Abraham Lincoln, “Second Inaugural Address” in The Norton Reader. An Anthology Of Expository Prose, Arthur M. Eastman, Caesar R. Blake, Hubert M. English, Jr., Alan B. Howes, Robert T. Lenaghan, Leo F. McNamara, James Rosier (ed.), (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1965), 298. In You Can’t Take It With You Grandpa Vanderhof quotes this passage in the speech revealing his patriotic ideology: “[...] communism, fascism, voodooism, everybody’s got an ism these days. When things go a little bad these days, you go out and get yourself an ism, and you’re in business. [...] John Paul Jones, Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams, Washington, Jefferson, Monroe, Lincoln, Grant, Lee, Edison, and Mark Twain. When things got tough for those boys, they didn’t go running around looking for isms. Lincoln said, ‘With malice towards none, with charity to all’. Nowadays they say, ‘think the way I do or I’ll bomb the daylights out of you.'” 87 Maland, Frank Capra, 87. 88 Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 21. 86

From Innocence to Experience: Innocence

103

confirms the premise that it is worth fighting for. “Love heals,”89 Brill reminds us. It heals the hero and the heroine within the frame of their relationship; moreover, it heals the society, allowing it to sustain the hope that fulfilment of the American Dream is still possible after all. Capra’s stories analysed above constitute the realization of the concept of eucatastrophe. As the examples of true fairy tales, they also reflect the vision of an ideal childhood and innocence. These are the stories in which the Cinderellas marry their princes, rich and poor become united in a communal celebration of a fertile reconciliation, and the world is painted in the moonlit chiaroscuro of a paradisal romance.

89

Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 21.

CHAPTER FOUR FROM INNOCENCE TO EXPERIENCE: EXPERIENCE

The Purgatorial and Infernal Level The previous chapter was devoted to the stage of innocence corresponding to the paradisal mode of Frank Capra’s comedies. In the subsequent part of my book I will discuss the stage of experience. My aim here is to present and explore the romantic nature of several slightly darker examples of Capra’s movies as viewed in the light of a combined purgatorial and infernal level of comedy which, as I shall indicate, interweave with each other in Capra’s filmic universe. For Dante, purgatory is a place of atonement for one's committed sins. Therefore, the mood of this realm differs substantially from the one presiding in paradise. Nevertheless, apart from darkness and suffering, there is also hope here based on the conviction that this stage of the journey is temporary and the tormented souls will eventually be redeemed.1 The case of purgatorial comedy, as it was already discussed in the first chapter, is parallel. There is suffering and an uphill struggle in this type of comedy. As Francesca Aran Murphy points out, the characters are constantly “on their way to happiness, always on the verge of achieving their desire as the action concludes.”2 Therefore, purgatorial comedies can be considered Quixotic or quest comedies. Following the pattern of Don Quixote, however, the protagonists are not left completely on their own. They are granted the assistance of the helpers, who in the case of Capra’s cinematic world are frequently female. The domain of Dante’s inferno is far gloomier as it is never-changing and excludes hope thoroughly. The doom of the souls gathered here is clearly determined by the inscription on the infernal gate: “Abandon all 1 2

Dante Alighieri, Boska komedia (Wrocáaw: Wydawnictwo Siedmioróg, 1997). Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation, 24.

106

Chapter Four

hope, ye who enter here.”3 Similarly, there is no place for helpers in an infernal comedy. The characters are, therefore, left alone to cope with the disasters they experience. This type of comedy includes death and darkness. Laughter is ironic and serves as a means of survival. Infernal comedies “take place in an underworld of the human spirit.”4 I have decided to interpret both the purgatorial and infernal mode of comedies as constituents of the “experience” category of Frye's romance. Hence, this stage demands a close examination of the process of gaining experience, i.e. entering adulthood (purgatorial mode), as well as the state of being experienced and thus facing the ultimate questions (infernal mode). For this purpose I have chosen three Capra’s movies which I consider to be examples of the category in question. Capra's Mr. Deeds Goes To Town, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, and Meet John Doe have long been treated by critics and cinema scholars as a trilogy. The source of such a categorization lies in the choice of the populist subject, the development of the protagonists vis-a-vis their social and emotional maturation, as well as the moralistic message of the movies. It is therefore necessary to examine the trilogy from the perspective of populism of which, as was mentioned in the previous chapters, Capra is considered to be the archetypal filmmaker. In his autobiography Capra states that his conscious commitment to the idea of spreading a populist message was the outcome of an incident that altered his perception of himself as a filmmaker and influenced the future direction of his artistic realization. As I have already mentioned, the overwhelming burden of the unexpected enormous success of It Happened One Night and the anxiety of an inability to live up to it further in his career became the reason of Capra’s self-doubts, and eventually brought him to an illness resulting in his hospitalisation. During this indisposition he was visited by an unknown man who accused him of being a coward and an offence to God and humanity because he was not using the talents he had been gifted with for the sake of opposing the evil in the world and influencing it with positive values, but was squandering it on trivialities.5 The occurrence turned out to be Capra’s moment of epiphany and he resolved that his films would no longer be made for the sake of sheer entertainment but would “integrate ideals and entertainment into a meaningful tale.”6 Hence, starting with Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, Capra was determined to convey an important message through his films. Let us 3

Dante, Boska komedia, 12. Murphy, The Comedy of Revelation, 24. 5 See Capra, The Name Above The Title, 176. 6 Capra, The Name Above The Title, 185. 4

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

107

now have a detailed look at the constituents of the trilogy.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) The plot of Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)7 centres around the character of Longfellow Deeds (Gary Cooper), a small town postcard poetry writer, the local band’s tuba player, and a voluntary captain of the fire brigade. The story begins with the announcement of the news of Mr. Deeds’ inheritance of $20 million. In consequence of the unexpected change of his financial situation he is forced to leave his home town, Mandrake Falls, Vermont, and the only life he knows in order to manage his newly acquired estate in New York. From an almost idyllic small town life Deeds is transferred into a place where he has to confront the tough rules of a big metropolis. His fortune immediately attracts all sorts of “city vultures” who watch Deeds’ apparent naivety with contentment and conviction that his ignorance of financial and business matters bears the promise of an easy gain for them. One of such “vultures” is a journalist, Babe Bennett (Jean Arthur), whose slick manoeuvres lead Deeds to being ridiculed on the first pages of the newspapers and nicknamed a “Cinderella Man” as soon as he appears in New York. To get the news for her precious stories, Bennett, under the false name of Mary Dowson, pretends to be a poor girl in search of employment. She easily gains the affection of her victim since, by playing her new role convincingly, for Deeds she impersonates all the values he has always treasured: innocence, purity and sheer goodness. Thus, in Deeds’ eyes, Mary is the long awaited “lady in distress” whom he wants to serve and protect. However, after a series of struggles with the greedy businessmen eager to bilk Deeds out of his money, the truth about Mary Dowson comes to light, leading the protagonist to the state of profound despair and disillusionment. Disheartened, Deeds resolves to return to his hometown and to leave behind the cruel big city reality; his intentions are altered, however, by the visit of a ruined farmer accusing him of frigidness and wastefulness. The event makes Deeds decide to invest the money in a socially useful aim of providing impoverished farmers with free land and seed. Unfortunately, the implementation of his noble idea turns out to be problematic because of his opponents who, having learned about the intent, claim Deeds’ mental instability and consequent inability to manage the fortune. 7

Mr. Deeds Goes To Town was nominated for Academy Awards 1937 in five categories: Best Director, Best Leading Actor, Best Picture, Best Sound, Recording, Best Writing, Screenplay, and won one Oscar for Best Director.

108

Chapter Four

Brooding on the madness of a civilised city world, Deeds refuses selfdefence at a crucial moment of the court hearing assigned to determine the real state of his mental condition. Bennett, who by this time has realized her guilt and fallen in love with Deeds, rises to speak in defence of his sanity and publicly declares her love for him. This announcement revives the hero’s zest for life and convinces him to give a defence speech which proves his sanity and eventually leads him to victory and reconciliation with his beloved. In accordance with Capra’s promise, Mr. Deeds is a moralistic tale. The plot glides between the subject of the characters’ romantic development and the discussion of ethical ideas of good and evil, social responsibility, and the question of humanity in a broader sense. Longfellow Deeds, therefore, comes to New York as a childlike romantic but, by the end of his tour de force, he becomes transformed into a romantic populist conscious of the poor state of American social conditions and the need for at least opposing them, if improving them is not in his power. The subject of the protagonist’s maturation will become one of the focal motives to be repeated throughout the trilogy and other Capra “committed” films.8 Charles Maland enumerates four conventions of the narrative pattern within Capra’s populist mode; namely: the hero, the heroine, the ritual humiliation of the hero, and the ritual victory.9 Referring to the previously discussed field of comedy and its types, the latter two elements in particular recall the echoes of Aristophanic agon and komos respectively linking the movies with folk fertility rituals (the expulsion of Death and bringing in of Life),10 and thus indicating the romantic nature of populist genre. The Caprian agon is a long term process during which the hero is forced to struggle for his ideals and maintain the already mentioned “integrity of the innocent world against the assaults of experience.”11 This, however, does not come as easy as in the case of the paradisal hero or may not come at all. In many cases the purgatorial hero will come merely as close as being on the verge of achieving his aims. Therefore, Capra’s purgatorial komos will also differ from the paradisal one. The final ritual victory will be the sign of the protagonists’ conversion and maturation. It 8 After the visit of the unknown man mentioned earlier, Capra made a declaration to commit his talents to the service of man: “I knew then that down to my dying day, down to my last feeble talent, I would be committed.” See Capra, The Name Above The Title, 185. 9 See Maland, Frank Capra, 93-94. 10 See Chapter Two. 11 Northrop Frye quoted in Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 6.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

109

will revive optimism and hope for renewal; nevertheless it will be darkened by the shadow of the hero’s infernal experience which constitutes a component of this category of Capra’s comedies. The purgatorial path of Longfellow Deeds paradoxically begins with the news of his inheritance brought to him by legal representatives whom Deeds seems to intuitively distrust. The divergence between the stiff fashion of the neatly attired businessmen and the small town reality of Mandrake Falls is comically conspicuous. They are as misplaced and lacking any familiar context here as Deeds in his New York mansion a while later. The initial scenes signal a very clear contrast between the two realities and intensify the feeling of awkwardness of the main character’s situation and his sense of alienation within his new surroundings. All of a sudden Deeds is uprooted from his natural background, his hometown and his friends, and forced to become a dweller of the unknown city, a strange house, and an unfamiliar world. The unexpectedness of it all brings a great deal of confusion to his so far quiet and ordered life. It is in the very first scene in the New York house that we realize Deeds’ misplacement. Capra presents the process of outfitting Deeds by the group of stylists and tailors to the accompaniment of relentless queries and pieces of financial advice provided by numerous lawyers and businessmen who, lured by Deeds’ declaration to give the money away, hope for some financial profits. However, notwithstanding his apparent naivety (that everyone counts on), Deeds judges the matters on the basis of simple “common sense” and is far from spending the money on anything about which he is not convinced. Moreover, the peculiar conventions of the luxurious lifestyle thrust upon him by his new financial status annoy him and seem to offend him. He opposes the idea of valets, bodyguards, and advisers telling him how to look, where to go, and what to do and with whom. Capra quickly makes us aware of the artificiality of the city codes as well as the immensity of the restrictions resulting from the rules of a wealthy life style imposed on the so far free small town boy. Therefore, watching the scene of the tailoring of Deeds’ clothes, the viewer cannot avoid the impression that it is not only his garment that is being refashioned. Step by step the attempts are made to rid him of his freedom and personality. The adequacy of this idea is even more striking when we compare the scene to another group shot; namely, the Mandrake Falls train station farewell party. The divergence of the two scenes or, furthermore, the two realities, is depicted visually. The station scene pictures Deeds playing the tuba in the middle of the local brass band performing For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow. Nevertheless, despite his distinguishing height, Deeds looks

110

Chapter Four

natural and in the right place. The picture clearly indicates that he is one of the people and he belongs there. The case is different in the other scene, however. The claustrophobic impression of the tailoring scene is intensified by the photographic depiction of Longfellow from a lower angle, which makes him seem even taller than he really is. Thus, the hero (without the tuba–a symbol of his artistic inclinations) towers above everyone present in the room, which stresses the sense of his misplacement and consequent alienation. This problem of the main character’s alienation is also the recurrent motif in all parts of the trilogy. As Ray Carney points out, Capra’s populist individuals are tragically forced “out of their places [...] into institutional realms, to act publicly.”12 Thus, trapped in this new reality, Deeds will be unable to escape from the pressures of the constant public scrutiny ever again. In New York every single move of Deeds will be carefully watched and widely commented in public. Even his courtship of Mary Dowson will be constantly witnessed by the eager eyes of the press, denying Deeds the right to any privacy. By means of uprooting his character from the idyll of the small town life and placing him into the sterility of big city conventions, Capra indicates the inevitability of Deeds’ impending identity crisis. Repressed by social codes, he is no longer granted his artistic freedom. Freedom, which in Carney’s words, “exist[s] in the visionary and artistic state, but [...] not within but outside of repressive social forms.”13 Therefore, Deeds’ habitual tuba playing, as well as his constant search for rhymes to his verses, in New York are considered to be a sign of eccentricity or even, in the end, insanity. Big city life demands sacrificing Deeds’ purity and becoming contextualised within stiff social codes. Hence, the tailoring scene at the beginning of Deeds’ New York adventures acquires a symbolic meaning: “a tailor [...] goes to work on the individual's identity.”14 In the course of the story, the authenticity of the character’s moral values will be tested within the hostile social context and he will have to prove whom he really is. However, the chaos and confusion caused by the sudden uprootedness will turn out to be fruitful in the end. Although this stage of the hero’s development entails immensely difficult life experiences and victimization of the character, it is through this hardship that Deeds’ mature identity will be shaped and finally established. Deeds receives the news of the inheritance with surprising scepticism, as if predicting intuitively the whole chain of troubles that are entailed by 12

Carney, American Vision, 263. Carney, American Vision, 266. 14 Carney, American Vision, 271. 13

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

111

it and at once he professes he does not want the money. Nevertheless, he goes to New York with the intention to look into the matter. To the lawyers he declares he is going to give the money away. We also hear him explaining to the members of the opera board that he is going “to do a lot of good with that money.” But for the time being these are merely unspecified vague ideas echoing his small town upbringing and the populist belief in every man’s duty to help others. Therefore, to become a conscious executive of his intentions, Longfellow needs to undergo the purgatorial process of social and ideological maturation. The purgatorial mode includes the character’s uphill struggle, during which Deeds is ridiculed as the most naive and childish of men on earth, nicknamed a “Cinderella Man,” humiliated and deceived both socially, publicly, and privately by the woman he falls in love with. However, it is even before his world crumbles apart, when he learns the real identity of Mary Dowson, that he intends to get back to Mandrake Falls for the sake of deciding how to distribute his wealth usefully. “I once had an idea I could do something with the money, but they kept me so busy I haven’t had time to figure it out. I guess I’ll wait till I get back home,” he explains to Mary. The same evening he proposes to Mary by means of a poem written for this occasion. The artistic unconventionality of his proposal as well as his longing for a green world that would provide him with wisdom and inspiration for making a proper decision concerning the fortune's distribution display the romanticism of Deeds' nature. In hope of achieving the inner harmony he is unable to find in New York, he wants to return to the rural womb of his home town, where his fertile ideas could be developed. Deeds’ plans are altered by the subsequent dramatic chain of events which eventually force him to remain in New York. On the day following Longfellow’s proposal, Mary’s deceit is unmasked by his press agent, Cornelius Cobb (Lionel Stander). He informs the hero that Mary is in fact the star journalist and a Pulitzer Prize winner, Babe Bennett and, worst of all, it is she who is responsible for the spiteful “Cinderella Man” articles. Mary affirms the dreadful news on the phone and Deeds hangs up, refusing to wait for any explanation she might offer. With his hopes lost and ruined he feels even more estranged than at the moment of his New York life initiation and decides to leave immediately. He is halted, however, by an unemployed farmer (John Wray) who breaks into his house accusing Deeds of being a “moneygrabbing hick” feeding doughnuts to horses rather than hungry people, and in a gangster-like fashion threatens Deeds with a gun. The incident helps

112

Chapter Four

Deeds choose the aim to which he will devote his money.15 Within the next characteristic-for-Capra newspaper montage sequence we are provided with a detailed plan of Deeds’ further action as well as the social commotion instigated by the news. The hero is finally going to give his fortune away by means of dividing a huge farming district into fully equipped ten acre farms at a cost of $18,000,000. Soon, thousands of unemployed storm Deeds’ mansion to apply for the grant and we are offered the picture of the character in the process of reviewing the applicants with a frenzied zest. By now he has realized more clearly than ever what a terrible burden his fortune really is and what a great deal of misery and troubles it has brought upon him. Therefore, he clutches at the homestead plan as if at the last straw bearing a promise of liberation from his problems. Nevertheless, the presumption that Deeds’ process of social maturation has been completed at this point of the story is mistaken In Leland Poague’s opinion, Mr. Deeds is “a film by a sentimental poet about a sentimental poet that shows how overdone sentiment can cloud perception.”16 Poague indicates that, to maintain a common sense balance between an overdose of sentiment and getting utterly lost within cynical perception, one needs to acquire a “realistic awareness of the complex nature of life in the world. [...] What is needed is both intellectual honesty and spiritual constancy: perceiving problems accurately and dealing with them appropriately.”17 Deeds’ urgent desire to escape from his urban problems denotes his inability to find such a golden mean. The truth about Mary has shattered him so severely that for a time he wrongly assumes that “all men are moochers [...] [and] everyone is out to take advantage of him.”18 Thus, he becomes contaminated by New York cynicism. Deeds’ actions at this point are, therefore, a sign that the character is only halfway to the real completion of the process of social maturation. It takes a drastic occurrence like his encounter with a hunger-crazed farmer to revive Deeds’ social awareness. Yet, it is practically not until the very end of the movie that Deeds can be treated as a fully mature, socially responsible individual. Deeds’ populist scheme to dispose of his wealth by means of financing farmsteads is thwarted by the joint actions of a crooked lawyer John Cedar 15

The incident is interpreted by many as a paraphrase of Capra’s autobiographical element discussed earlier in the chapter. The visit of an unknown man helps both Capra and Deeds to make vital decisions in their lives. 16 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 175. 17 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 175. 18 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 175.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

113

(Douglas Dumbrille) and Deeds’ late uncle’s only living relative, Mr. Semple (Jameson Thomas) and his wife (May Methot), who claim the right to the legacy and charge Longfellow with insanity, which implies his inability to handle the fortune. A warrant of arrest is delivered to Longfellow while he is reviewing the applicants for the farms. Thus, just like every other matter concerning Deeds since he has become a legal heir, the arrest is conducted in public. This time, however, he is surrounded by the farmers–the common people who in Capra’s cinematic language symbolise positive moral values and support. At this stage of his social maturation Deeds is no longer on his own; the bond between the protagonist and the farmers is illustrated in the scene preceding the arrest in which one of the applicants offers a sandwich to his exhausted benefactor. Deeds accepts the kind gift gratefully but as soon as he starts eating, his eyes are set on a crowd of hungry people waiting silently for an application. Upon reflection, he orders lunches to be provided for all the applicants, replying to Cobb’s exclamation: “There must be two thousand of them!”, with the matter-of-fact statement: “Well, it doesn’t make them any less hungry.” The sense of communion is born as the farmers acknowledge Deeds’ generosity and the fact that he is a man of flesh and blood and not just one more “money-grabbing hick,” the impression which they might have got out of his profile as created by the press. Therefore, the farmsteads scheme becomes, in a way, a manifestation of Deeds’ authenticity in front of the eyes of the public. From this temporary glimpse of communal unity and social understanding, Longfellow is thrust down into the emotional abyss of further disillusionment and a feeling of the pointlessness of all his actions. He awaits the court sanity hearing in the custody of the County Hospital. However, the atmosphere of the hospital ward scene differs a lot from the one discussed above. The glimmer of hope evoked by the conviction of his populist actions’ propriety evaporates rapidly and the protagonist is pictured in a state of utter breakdown and capitulation, leading him into the refusal of legal or any other form of help and finally results in his sinking into silence. A dramatic change of the sequence stylistics will not escape the attention of the viewer. The interior of the hospital custody is a gloomy, confined, scarcely furnished space with a claustrophobic impression intensified by the overpowering darkness of the location; the only light illuminating the figures inside comes from outside of the barred window. However, the view Capra offers to the audience is the one from the perspective of the entrance door and what we can see are the faceless dark silhouettes of Mr. Deeds sitting in a stooped pose and staring blankly

114

Chapter Four

through the window and Cobb bending over him. Such a visual depiction of the bleakness of the character’s circumstances evokes the realization that the discussed sequence can no longer be perceived within the stylistics of purgatorial comedy. Its film noir mood and visual effects, together with the protagonist’s nonverbal reply to the situation, provide the information that the real drama unfolds in “in an underworld of the human spirit” and, therefore, the sequence belongs to the infernal realm. Capra’s cinematic world of inferno is a noir period experience of darkness and despair.19 In the trilogy, however, the state turns out to be temporary and therefore it allows the character to be transferred back into purgatory in the end and thus be redeemed and restored to life. Within the infernal sequences the protagonists are devoid of effective helpers but such a state frequently results from the protagonists’ infernal loss of confidence in others as well as their bitter intention to give up and retreat. Until now Deeds had managed to convert some of the big city cynics, e.g. his press agent Cobb, who would now be happy to provide Deeds with any possible form of help. In a ward scene, however, Cobb’s emotional attempts to persuade Deeds about the necessity to stand up and fight for the cause are silently rejected as Deeds chooses to trust no one. At this juncture the decision to stay on his own is his own choice as well as a sign of his psychological and emotional distress. “He’s sunk so low, he doesn’t want help from anybody,” Cobb informs Bennett. Capra comments on the situation with use of low-key lighting indicating that the only “light” Deeds can expect may come from the outside world. For the time being, however, the character rejects it and is therefore bound to remain in the depths of an inner inferno. Throughout the entire asylum scene Deeds remains in a static position; as if paralysed, he keeps gazing intensely into the distance. The motif appears in many of Capra’s movies but, as Carney accurately points out, from Mr. Deeds the pattern changes its former meaning and it now symbolises the hero’s “deepest despair or abject withdrawal from the world [and] evidence of impotence, cynicism, failure, or abandonment of hope.”20 It is also a frequent feature of Capra’s populist stories that at a

19

It is interesting to note that the noir-elements, which are undeniably present in the trilogy, in the case of Mr. Deeds predate film noir as a genre, which is accepted to have begun with John Huston's Maltese Falcon in 1941. 20 Carney indicates that before Mr. Deeds the motif of gazing into the distance symbolised the character’s romantic “state of imaginative elevation and meditative abstraction”. In Capra’s populist movies, it acquired a new meaning. See Carney, American Vision, 263.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

115

certain point the central character is drawn “to the verge of suicide.”21 In the case of Mr. Deeds the suicidal motif is realized symbolically by means of his alienation and socially incongruous conduct within the infernal sequence, which ultimately threatens to bring him to public selfannihilation. Deeds’ persistent silence continues during most of the decisive court sanity hearing. In fact, even his answers to the inquiries of a sympathetic judge are nonverbal. The hero is not represented by any legal counsel and, what is more, he does not intend to defend himself against any of the charges. The hearing starts with Mr. Cedar’s theatrical brief of the defendant's behaviour during his stay in New York. In a cunning fashion the lawyer presents Deeds as an irresponsible, childish, and utterly unpredictable character. The judge and the audience (both the one present in the court, and the one viewing the movie) are offered the story of Deeds’ conspicuous detachment from reality manifested in the acts of playing the tuba “in the midst of normal conversation,” feeding doughnuts to a horse, or jumping aboard a fire engine. For the sake of proving Deeds’ derangement Cedar produces the witnesses connected with various spheres of cultural and social life of New York and Mandrake Falls. A respected opera singer recounts how she and other members of New York musical elite were “bodily” ejected from Deeds’ house; the physicians from the County Hospital testify that Deeds refused to be professionally examined; and two elderly ladies brought from his home town especially for the sake of the hearing declare that Deeds is and has always been “pixilated”.22 The picture is completed by the long tirade of the famous Austrian psychiatrist, Dr. Von Hallor, who, on the basis of the special chart illustrating changeability of mood, pronounces the diagnosis of Deeds being a clear case of manic depression. In spite of Deeds’ silence the court hearing scene is not a quiet one, it is just the opposite. The skilfully delivered accusatory speech of Cedar meets with an instant spontaneous reaction of the public, who realize the gravity of the situation and recognize the fact that there is an urgent need to make Longfellow speak and defend himself; otherwise he is irrevocably bound to remain in the catatonic infernal realm. It is Babe (whose series of Cinderella-man articles are used as strong exhibits for the prosecution) who finally rises to plead in Deeds’ defence. She confesses the real reason 21

Carney, American Vision, 71. The term “pixilated”, as one of the psychiatrists present in the courtroom explains, “is an early American expression–derived from the word 'pixies,' meaning elves. They would say, 'The pixies had got him,' as we nowadays say a man is “balmy”.

22

116

Chapter Four

for writing the articles, i.e. the promise of a raise and a month's vacation, and states that everything she wrote about Deeds was coloured so as to make him look silly. As she tells the judge, Deeds has been hurt so many times since he came to New York that it is only natural he does not want to be subject to any further humiliation. “Why shouldn’t he keep quiet?” she explains tearfully. “Every time he said anything it was twisted around to sound imbecilic.” Though silent, Deeds listens attentively to the charges and subsequent testimonies of the authoritative witnesses and quickly acknowledges the absurdity of the scene he watches as if from the perspective of a detached viewer. Furthermore, throughout the entire hearing sequence we may observe Deeds’ facial response to the evidence provided by each nitwit witness and it clearly communicates the character’s gradual change of attitude and his growing irritation which reaches the highest point during Dr. Von Hallor’s lecture. Nevertheless, it is still not enough of a stimulus to restore Deeds’ will to fight and, hence, the court proclaims the resolution to commit him to an institution for the sake of his own good. It takes Babe’s fervent public pronouncement of her love to Deeds to finally revive him. The confession is followed by the stream of objections from Babe’s editor, Cobb, and finally the farmers’ dramatic appeals: “What about us Mr. Deeds? You’re not going to leave us in the cold?” Thus, Deeds finally rises to speak and systematically refutes the charges by means of providing a reasonable explanation to every occurrence mentioned by Cedar. He manages to straighten up the severely deformed psychological portrait of his own person, and in a comic fashion exposes before the judge the real reason of the hearing, i.e. the financial profit of Cedar and Semple, as well as the whole artificiality of it. As Poague suggests, Deeds needed to be made aware that his basic personal faith in the common man is justified no matter how crazy or fanatic some men might be, and once he [did] so, his faith and intelligence [were] more than enough to convince the court of his sanity.23

The act of conquering the silence culminating in the victorious speech delivered by Deeds can be interpreted as one more transition from the infernal to the purgatorial realm. The character overcomes despair and resumes the quest which eventually will be brought to an end in the komos-like ritual victory. Before it may happen, however, Deeds must consciously acknowledge the difference between the status quo of the real 23

Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 177.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

117

world and his projections of it. He is able to rise and speak only after he agrees to accept that Babe Bennett is just a human being, with her virtues and vices, and therefore apt to err, and not the unworldly princess he imagined her to have been. He must also realize the pointlessness of the attempts to “flee from the repressive forms of society”,24 since, as Carney accurately notices: “Codes are everywhere, and everything is encoded. [...] Any momentary leverage over social discourse can and must be achieved within the system.”25 Deeds’ example proves the above statement since his immature impulse to cut himself off from the world resulting in his withdrawal into silence and inarticulateness at a crucial moment led him to a much worse state of infernal hopelessness, insecurity and ideological capitulation. Poague calls the act of Deeds’ retreat into silence a mistake.26 Carney, on the other hand, offers quite a different interpretation, stating that Deeds’ personal disaster, subsequent despair and nihilism are only stages he passes through on the way to be released to creativity and freedom, which ultimately is expressed in the final court address.27 Therefore, the infernal sequence may be considered to be an indispensable phase for the completion of the character’s maturation. Deeds must be woken up to creativity within the social system. By means of accepting it, he manages to escape from the ever threatening claws of moral cynicism. The quest may begin once more and Deeds becomes the conscious spokesman of populism. Thus, the previously discussed Poague’s concept claiming the need to achieve “spiritual constancy” and “intellectual honesty” for the sake of acquisition of a clear-sighted viewpoint finds the realization within Deeds’ courtroom utterance. The arguments presented in Deeds’ climactic speech prove that his homestead scheme is a sincere commonsense-based populist action and not the project of “a diseased mind, afflicted with hallucinations of grandeur and obsessed with an insane desire to become a public benefactor,” as Cedar suggests. It is, in fact, based on the simple idea clearly inspired by Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal social program. Furthermore, the plan to distribute the money among those who are in need is the realization of Capra’s conviction that “every person should help those who are below them.”28 It is hardly surprising that such an idea was born in the mind of Longfellow Deeds. Although he is the first in the line of Capra’s populist 24

Carney, American Vision, 291. Carney, American Vision, 291. 26 See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 177. 27 See Carney, American Vision, 293. 28 Capra quoted in McBride, Frank Capra, 339. 25

118

Chapter Four

heroes to be born within the next decade, Deeds is equipped with social, psychological and ideological traits which will also become the core of the character of his successors like, e.g. Mr. Smith. Apart from sheer goodness, honesty and belief in the common man and common good, they are both patriots. The decisive argument for Deeds’ coming to New York was the wish to see Grant’s tomb–the sign of the protagonist’s patriotic identification. It may seem startling at first glance that Deeds chooses Ulysses Grant for his patriotic hero. As Poague suggests: “Grant is perhaps the least idealized (or idealizable) of the populist Gods that Capra could have chosen.”29 Nevertheless, it is Grant’s small town origin and Deeds’ profound admiration for courage and perseverance of this small town boy on his way to the presidential chair that might be the answer for the protagonist’s choice. After all, Grant’s life story represents the quintessence of the American Dream incarnated into life. Deeds profound appreciation of Grant’s achievements are expressed in an answer he provides to Babe’s question about his first impression of the tomb, since “to most people it is a washout.” Deeds states: I see a small Ohio farm boy becoming a great soldier. I see thousands of marching men. I see General Lee with a broken heart surrendering. And I can see the beginning of the new nation, like Abraham Lincoln said. And I can see that Ohio boy being inaugurated as President. Things like that can only happen in a country like America.

Deeds, therefore, conspicuously aspires to join the legion of American Dream warriors. Looking at the tomb, Deeds seems to understand both the possibilities and responsibilities entailed by the successful realization of the American Dream. “The fellows who can make the hill on high should stop once in a while to help those who can’t,” as Deeds professes at his sanity hearing. His populist inclinations, expressed through the patriotic sentimentalism, are in fact signalled at the very beginning of the film in his intentions to give the money away or at least to spend it on some beneficial purpose. All he needs is a stimulus to help him decide what exactly he wants to do with the fortune. Even though, as McBride points out, “he never seems to have given a thought to the Depression outside the Norman Rockwellian village of Mandrake Falls”30 before the inheritance, once he determines the goal, Deeds engages himself into his philanthropic scheme with an energetic devotion. 29 30

Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 173. McBride, Frank Capra, 340.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

119

So far I have discussed the populist aspect of Mr. Deeds. I indicated the stages of Capra’s populist hero’s social maturation within the context of purgatorial and infernal modes of comedy. I also pointed out that both modes interweave with each other and are indispensable for the completion of the protagonist’s populist development. In the subsequent part of the chapter I will examine romantic nature of the hero and the heroine as well as the story in general. The character of Longfellow Deeds has been given a great deal of attention since the film first appeared onscreen and throughout the decades the critics have provided us with detailed analyses of the character. Perhaps the most surprising statement came from Frank Capra himself: “Mr. Deeds was honest, but not necessarily an idealist.”31 I may agree with the above thesis only partially, however. It is true that Deeds’ down-toearth attitude towards managing his newly acquired fortune displays the hero's strong attachment to common sense rather than idealism; nevertheless, the same can hardly be stated in regard to his romantic relationship to Mary Dowson. It is still in Mandrake Falls that we learn from Deeds’ housekeeper about his chivalric idea to “save the lady in distress.” Deeds’ romantic idea of love is further complemented by the vision of an imaginary girl he used to hope for back in his hometown: “I used to hike a lot through the woods and I used to take this girl with me so I could talk to her. I’d show her my pet trees and things. [...] I haven’t married ‘cause I’ve been kind of waiting. [...] I’ve always hoped that someday that imaginary girl would turn out to be real.” As soon as Deeds finds Mary in need of assistance just in front of his own house, he clings to the idea that she is the divine answer to his reveries, and he projects his dreams and desires onto her tout de suite. It has not been long since he came to New York; nevertheless, he has already managed to acknowledge the harshness of big city rules. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that he allows himself to be dazed by the flood of warm emotions towards the woman he considers the only honest and sincere person among the predatory fakes he is constantly exposed to. In Deeds’ eyes Mary is the embodiment of all his youthful ideals. She is beautiful, sensitive, smart, good and, what is most vital, she is “the lady in distress”, which he dreamily states aloud at their first meeting. Love comes to Deeds in a much the same fashion as it does to Capra’s other romantic heroes: out of the blue and all of the sudden. It is amazing and demands no proofs. Similarly, as in the paradisal comedy mode, to Deeds love is, “like divine grace [...] brings clarity and purpose to a 31

Capra quoted in Schickel, The Men Who Made Movies, 74.

120

Chapter Four

desperately corrupt world.”32 And truly, while it lasts on a visionary level, i.e. before Mary’s deceit is exposed, it provides the hero with the strength to cope with the hostile New York reality. However, unlike the paradisal mode, purgatorial comedies entail bitter experiences and the necessity to ultimately reconcile the hero’s idealistic vision with factual reality. Thus, the visionary fairy tale-like goddess must be recognized as a human being. In fact, as Poague notices: Longfellow’s great disappointment in [Mary] results less from what she actually is than from his fantastic notions of what she should be. Deeds clearly demands too much of her, and his romantic mistake is to assume that actual angels exist in an unangelic world.33

The reason for Deeds’ fervent projection of his vision onto Mary can be ascribed to his romantic desire for rural green world innocence. In Capra’s populist movies, however, the divergence between the worlds of small town and big city is sharply determined: the small town is associated with positive values and honest people, whereas the big city with the opposite features. Deeds’ search for a green world within the sterility of New York is doomed to failure from the start. Nevertheless, the hero is wrongly convinced that he found green world virtues in Mary. It is not by coincidence that Capra chooses a rainy evening for the characters to meet for the first time. Having escaped his bodyguards, Deeds appears on the steps of his estate and takes his hat off so that he could feel the pouring rain. With a pleased smile he appreciatively rubs the rain into his hair. The scene is the first out of the series of Deeds’ romantic attempts to unite with nature in New York and it is actually the first time since his arrival that we see him smile; at last he is outside of his interiors and on his own. At this point, he is wrongly assured of being finally safe from the institutional context and the master of his own fate. Yet the moment he walks out of the gate he becomes the viewer of Babe Bennett’s cunning performance. She skilfully acts the part of a poor girl fainting out of exhaustion after a desperate all-day-long search for a job. Deeds’ chivalric instincts are awoken instantly and in a heavy rain–Capra’s denotation of fertility of the prospective relationship–he rushes to rescue his “lady in distress”. Deeds’ conviction of grasping a piece of non-institutionalised privacy within his meetings with Mary turns out to be erroneous, since she 32

Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 20. Brill’s concept of romantic love was discussed in detail in the previous chapter. 33 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 172.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

121

represents an institution herself, and it is her own will and intellect that shape Longfellow’s media portrait and gradually deprive him of his natural optimism and strength to fight for valuable causes. Capra’s purgatorial comedies offer no escape from “institutional predation,”34 and Deeds’ romantic trysts with Mary will be constantly accompanied by the hired photographers. Therefore, the hero’s escape from big city sterility is as artificial as New York purgatorial “green places” themselves. There are several occasions when we have a chance to witness the meetings of Longfellow and Mary. In fact, apart from the first meeting, which takes place in the literati restaurant, the heroes spend the rest of them on the move sightseeing the city or just walking along the streets as if in search of a natural asylum. Nevertheless, despite the fact that we may spot some surrogates of a green world in the scenes: the blossoming tree over Deeds’ head by Grant’s tomb; the mist enhancing the characters during their evening walk; the moonlit park bench they sit on to rest; the impression of apparent peacefulness of the natural surrounding is being disturbed by the noise and constant movement of the cars flooding behind the characters or people rushing by them. The artificiality of the purgatorial big city nature becomes even more conspicuous when compared to its depiction in Capra’s paradisal mode. The sentimental park bench scene, in which Longfellow and Mary talk about their nostalgic memories of the small towns they come from in fact has a counterpart in a similar scene in You Can’t Take It With You. It is also a New York moonlit evening and, similarly, the couple sits on a bench discussing memories and ideals from the past. However, instead of the hectic street traffic, as in the case of Mr. Deeds, there is a silvery, glittering lake behind Alice and Tony, and in their purity, innocence and genuineness, the characters seem to be an inseparable part of the landscape. Deeds and Mary, on the other hand, are deprived of any possibility of harmonizing with nature as long as their relationship is built on Babe’s falsehood and artificial presumptions and Deeds’ longing for fulfilment of his imaginary projections. At this point, all they may get is a false temporary sensation of establishing a natural bond between each other within the ersatz substitute of the natural green world. In the world of Capra’s social comedies, the romantic association with folk tradition has been replaced with the hero’s longing for nature and devotion to art. Longfellow Deeds, as many other Capra’s populists, is an artist. In the face of the impossibility of finding natural green shelter within purgatorial New York, it is poetry and music which become the 34

Carney, American Vision, 264.

122

Chapter Four

means of the character’s artistic expression and the counterpoint to big city sterility. Capra presents Deeds playing the tuba on several occasions in the film and each time the syncopated tunes seem to mirror the hero’s emotions. He plays his tuba when he first learns of the inheritance and at the Mandrake Falls train station the moment prior to leaving his hometown for the first time in his life; subsequently, we see him playing the tuba in the confines of his New York estate the evening before his proposal to Mary and the tragic discovery of her deceit. Thus, music accompanies the hero throughout most of the crucial events in the purgatorial sequences and it complements his quest. Moreover, it also seems to reflect his ability to function within the social intercourse and to respond to it. Mr. Deeds’ infernal sequence, in contrast, lacks music as well as it lacks Longfellow’s verbal response to the drama of the situation. In fact, the second half of the movie, with the exception of the short newspaper montage, is devoid of musical soundtrack. It is only after the courtroom scene that the tunes are to be heard again as a musical illustration of Deeds’ verbal recovery and his final ritual victory. Therefore, music in Mr. Deeds belongs to the purgatorial realm and its presence in the sequences provides the information that the character’s social and ideological quest is still in progress. In the previous chapter, I have already discussed Capra’s use of music as a means of loosening tensions, creating community bonds, or tightening the ties between the characters. As I will indicate, its function does not differ in the case of purgatorial mode. Apart from the earlier mentioned celebratory group scenes, like Deeds’ farewell party at the train station or his final victory in the courtroom where music becomes the artistic reflection of the sense of communal unity (recall the communal bus singing in It Happened One Night), there is at least one more occasion in the film where the vitality of music is stressed. The evening park bench scene, mentioned earlier in the context of Deeds’ futile attempts to find a green world in New York, is also important for another reason. Namely, it gives a chance to verbalise Longfellow’s idealistic hopes and nostalgic romanticism as well as his displeasure with a disappointing city reality. Deeds quotes Thoreau: “They created a lot of grand palaces here, but they forgot to create the noblemen to put in them,” and concludes the reflection with the statement: “I’d rather have Mandrake Falls,” which once more highlights his alienation and sense of uprootedness. The couple’s park scene also becomes the crucial stage on the way of Babe’s conversion from a city cynic to a warm loving woman. It is probably the first time that she genuinely seems to forget the initial reason

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

123

of her meetings with Deeds and she enjoys their time together thoroughly. Longfellow’s nostalgic vision of Mandrake Falls brings back Babe’s own memories of the small town she comes from and of her father who, as she states with amazement, was very much like Deeds. It turns out that Babe’s father, like Deeds, was a musician in a town band and that he passed some of the skills on to his daughter. The fact is meaningful since in Capra’s filmic universe only positive heroes, and never villains, are capable of playing instruments. Thus, Babe’s singing and drumming performance of Swanee River denotes her potential for a transformation into a heroine in the full sense of the term. The peculiarity of the case of Longfellow’s and Babe’s park musical performance lies in the lack of instruments. Nevertheless, it is not a problem for the romantic improvisers (which Deeds struggles to remain, and Babe begins to be attracted to). They form their duet with use of a stick, a trash can and the imaginary tuba on which Deeds imaginatively intones Humoresque along with Babe’s Swanee River. This intimate common musical festivity becomes vital especially to Babe, since through it she gets the opportunity to acknowledge Deeds’ authenticity and reconsider her own moral attitude. It is still the same night that Babe reveals her moral doubts and remorse to her roommate and professes her writing crisis and inability to write the Cinderella Man articles anymore. So, in the case of Mr. Deeds, music can claim to play a more complex role than just the artistic means of shaping close relationships. As has already been stated, it also reflects Longfellow’s quest for ideals as well as his capability of their articulation within the social context. Moreover, it also bears the power to instigate Babe’s positive transformation. Deeds’ artistic nature is illustrated twofold: he is a musician but also a poet and, thus, a master of words. This ability turns out to be handy in many aspects of Deeds’ New York life. Words become his most powerful weapon in the final courtroom battle but they are also a means to express his romantic desires. On the evening he meets Mary and rescues her from the “distress” he takes her to the literati restaurant. The choice of the place exposes Deeds’ need for strengthening his artistic identity on unfriendly New York turf and the mere literary association of the restaurant seem to gratify this need. Thus, it seems that Deeds intends his courtship of Mary to be an artistic experience too. Nevertheless, as in the literati restaurant scene where Deeds summons the gypsy violinist to express with music what he does not have the courage to say to Mary with his own voice, later on his proposal to Mary will similarly be conducted in the form of a poem written on a piece of paper and therefore excluding the necessity to use the voice. Thus, the

Chapter Four

124

state of the character’s inarticulateness can be the sign not only of infernal disillusionment and mute protest against reality but also of the romantic hero’s conviction of superiority of artistic means of expression over the elusiveness and limitations of human voice. In his American Vision Carney devotes a great deal of attention to the subject of the characters’ “public expressive limitations”.35 His thesis that “language in any public, conventional use of it proves inadequate to ‘speak’ the feelings of [the] ‘heart’”36 is true in the cases of both Deeds and Bennett. Having recognized this inadequacy, at the crucial romantic moments, Deeds uses music and poetry to communicate his feelings. Babe’s situation is, however, more difficult since on the verge of her transformation she lacks the fertile artistic skills. Moreover, at the moment of Longfellow’s proposal, she is fully aware of the vileness of her deceit as well as the magnitude of harm inflicted on him. Therefore, in this light, she is conscious of the utter impropriety of expressing her feelings for Deeds. Capra depicts Bennett’s romantic melodrama in a non-verbal way with use of “expressive lighting, photographic close-ups, and accelerated rhythms [which] pick up the burden of signification that verbal language cannot bear.”37 At this stage of the characters relationship “the intensity of Bennett’s desire cannot be spoken in any more direct way than between the lines, in her pauses and stutterings, in the near hysteria of her tones, in the silence of her agitated gestures and looks.”38 Babe will acquire the ability of verbal expression of her love and affection only after she confesses her guilt and completes the process of imaginative romantic transformation. Carney suggests that, contrary to some of Capra’s earlier pictures, in the case of Mr. Deeds, Mr. Smith, and Meet John Doe for lovers to be together [...] is not to look off in the same direction, to meditate together, or to share a vision or a dream but to talk together. [...] Characters must learn to convert their capacity for imagination and vision into practical worldly forms of verbal and social performance.39

And it is only in the grand finale that both Bennett and Deeds prove they have possessed and mastered this capacity. The final scene clearly indicates that the completion of Longfellow’s social maturation process 35

Carney, American Vision, 285. Carney, American Vision, 285. 37 Carney, American Vision, 285. 38 Carney, American Vision, 285. 39 Carney, American Vision, 280. 36

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

125

converges with Babe’s ultimate romantic transformation. At the end of the story Deeds turns into the populist speaker of humanism and the romantic warrior fighting not for imaginary fairy tale concepts but for real ideals of common good and social justice. Babe’s transformation, on the other hand, allows her to regain the fertile virtues she had once possessed. Furthermore, she is now able to express her romantic emotions overtly and possesses the strength to fight for her beloved. In the final sequences of the movie, Babe becomes the symbol of, as Cedar states, typical American womanhood. Consequently, it is love that enables the heroes to speak and act again. As Frye’s elaboration on romanticism determines, love is amazing and has nothing to do with laws or logic.40 Clearly, this aspect of romantic love also remains unaltered in the case of purgatorial comedy and in Mr. Deeds, as in paradisal mode, love is still a healing power which averts apathy and provides strength; it conquers all impediments and leads the hero and the heroine to a ritual komos.

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) and Meet John Doe (1941) The purgatorial quest of a romantic populist is also the main concern of the two subsequent films of Capra’s trilogy: Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and Meet John Doe. Both of the movies can be considered complementary and a further rumination on the subject matter started with Mr. Deeds, i.e. the restriction of the individual’s actions in the face of destructive financial, business and political machine of the corrupt modern world. Mr. Deeds and Mr. Smith can both be claimed to have similar narrative constructions. However, they differ in respect of mood which darkens more and more from one film to another to culminate in John Doe. The almost tangible gloom of Mr. Smith and Meet John Doe reflects the shadow of World War II looming over the world. The films are, therefore, Capra’s response to the situation, emphasizing the need for recalling and consolidating the democratic values and the necessity of their revival within social consciousness. For the above reasons I have chosen to present the plots of Mr. Smith and Meet John Doe at the beginning of the sub-section, which will enable me to refer to various common aspects of the movies throughout the subsequent analysis of both films.

40

See Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 21.

126

Chapter Four

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington41 is based on a Lewis R. Foster short story The Gentleman from Montana. The plot of the movie to a great extent recalls the pattern of Mr. Deeds. The main hero, Jefferson Smith (James Stewart), a young political idealist, and boy scout leader, goes to Washington to replace a deceased senator for the rest of his term. He is quickly made to realize that the real position he is to occupy in the Senate is that of an “honorary stooge” for the benefit of Smith’s state’s local party’s boss Jim Taylor (Edward Arnold) and his pawns: the state governor (Guy Kibbee) and the senior senator, Joseph Paine (Claude Rains). The three tycoons hope that Smith’s naiveté will help them to launch the fraudulent Deficiency bill by means of his voting for it. In spite of the discovery of Taylor’s deceitful plan, Smith goes along with the idea of sponsoring a bill for his own project of founding a national boys camp. The project, however, turns out to be an obstacle for the realization of Taylor’s irrigation bill as it concerns the same area of land. Before Smith has a chance to expose the affair, the crooks pass the blame on him and accuse him of being a fraud and therefore unworthy of being a senator. Aided by an idea of Saunders (Jean Arthur), his secretary, who in the course of the story overcomes her big city cynicism and scepticism towards the young senator’s lofty ideology and falls in love with him, Smith resorts to a filibuster with the hope of proving his innocence. After an inspired almost twenty-four-hour long speech, the Senate is delivered thousands of telegrams demanding an end to Smith’s filibuster and that he resign his post. Having realized that the telegrams, the supposed transmitters of public opinion were, in fact, manufactured as a result of Taylor’s persistent political propaganda, the disillusioned Smith collapses. At the final sequence, when apparently everything is lost, Senator Paine, Smith’s surrogate father, breaks down and, after an unsuccessful suicidal attempt at the Senate Chamber, he reveals the truth and announces senator Smith’s innocence. The third part of Capra’s social trilogy, Meet John Doe,42 is based on a short story by Richard Connell - A Reputation. The working title The Life and Death of John Doe was subsequently shortened to The Life of John Doe, and finally Meet John Doe was agreed upon.43 The film is probably the darkest and the most distressing one of the trilogy. Before showing the film to the public Capra revealed that the seriousness of the theme of a 41 Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in 1940 was nominated for the Academy Awards in ten categories and won one Oscar for Best Writing, Original Story. 42 Meet John Doe in 1942 was nominated for Academy Awards in category Best Writing, Original Story, but did not win the Oscar. 43 See McBride, Frank Capra, 429.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

127

domestic fascist using media to manufacture American ideals for the sake of gaining political power and utter control over people “would astonish the critics with contemporary realities; the ugly face of hate; the power of uniformed bigots in red, white, and blue shirts; the agony of disillusionment; and the wild dark passions of the mobs.”44 The first sequences of the film introduce a young journalist, Ann Mitchell (Barbara Stanwyck). In order to save her job at the New Bulletin, she exercises a publicity stunt by means of writing a letter from an imaginary John Doe, who declares that he will jump off the roof of City Hall on Christmas Eve in protest against the disastrous state of civilization. The letter meets with a wide response from society and Ann considers it profitable to hire someone for the role and publicize the story through the media. Long John Willoughby (Gary Cooper), an ex-baseball player, agrees to play the role of John Doe as he hopes that the money he gets for the job will enable him to gain therapy for fixing his bad arm. John Doe’s first radio speech (written by Ann) in which he calls for neighbourly love and simple human kindness creates a national commotion and results in the creation of John Doe Clubs throughout the whole country. The problem arises when the owner of the newspaper, D. B. Norton (Edward Arnold), demands to be announced as a candidate for presidency during the approaching national John Doe convention. Long John refuses to do it, since by this time he has been so converted as to believe in John Doe’s philosophy, and the apolitical nature of the clubs is one of the bedrock ideas. In response, Norton resolves to destroy Doe and the clubs with the power of his political machine and at the convention reveals that John Doe is a fake. The people turn against Doe and in the depth of despair John decides to jump off the City Hall roof so as to prove that, even if he himself is an impostor, John Doe’s ideals are not fake after all. It takes Ann’s declaration of love and the pleas of some John Doe club members to persuade him not to jump but to try to restore the clubs once more, notwithstanding the vicious schemes of any political tyrants. In both Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and Meet John Doe Capra introduces his main characters in an unconventional way. By the time they first appear onscreen, the viewer is informed about their entanglement “in a complex, extended web of elaborated relationships, a reticulated network of pressures, influences, and significances.”45 Therefore, we are made aware of the inevitability of the heroes’ stepping onto the purgatorial path and experiencing infernal disaster before they 44 45

Capra, The Name Above The Title, 297. Carney, American Vision, 306.

128

Chapter Four

are able to establish their mature identity or social consciousness. Jeff Smith, an inspired leader of boy rangers who knows the speeches of Washington and Lincoln by heart, is appointed a senator and accepts the position with the eagerness and zeal of a contemporary Prometheus, unaware of the fact that his appointment is the result of the political mogul’s, Jim Taylor’s, search for someone who “would take orders” on how to vote. John Willoughby is chosen by Ann to play the role of John Doe for similar reasons: the embodiment of an American common man, a handsome unemployed ex-baseball player that will do what he is told to for the money he needs for his arm surgery which would allow him to get back to the field. Despite the initial difference of moral attitude of both the characters, there is at least one similarity between Smith’s and Willoughby’s situation at the beginning of the movies: the moment they say yes to the offered roles they become actors performing scripts written by someone else.46 However, whereas Long John agrees to it with the consciousness of a cynic interested merely in his own financial profit, Jeff is oblivious to the fact that his appointment is designed to support the evil political machine of the villains. He is a naive, inspired, Lincoln-like figure whose reverence toward grand patriotic values are displayed in almost his every movement and it just never occurs to him “that anyone would misuse the tradition on which the country was founded.”47 Nevertheless, the fact that Long John’s decision to participate in the John Doe publicity stunt was made consciously turns out to be insignificant, since in the end he undergoes a transformation turning him into a real believer in the John Doe ideology, and the fight for it will lead him through the equally difficult purgatorial path as the one undertaken by Jeff Smith at the very beginning. As in the case of Deeds, the maturation process is needed for Smith and Doe to become full populist heroes. We meet Mr. Smith for the first time after his miraculous coin-toss elevation to the Senate at a “star-spangled banquet” held in his honour. The scene’s pregnant symbolism indicates the patriotic idealism of the newly appointed senator before he even has a chance to articulate his promise not to disgrace the office of the U.S. Senate. As he rises to express his gratitude for the appointment in a frail, low-key voice, Capra offers the view of Smith’s figure against the image of the Capitol composed from white flowers on the wall behind him. Subsequently, the scene of the celebratory entrance of Boy Rangers carrying an American Flag, as watched from the perspective of Smith, provides the direct view of the 46 47

See Carney, American Vision, 272. Gehring, Populism And The Capra Legacy, 9.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

129

portraits of Washington (the symbol of America’s founding) and Lincoln48 (a martyred political hero of the U.S.A.). The significance of these elements becomes even more transparent when connected to the actual name of the protagonist: Jefferson Smith–the compound of the founding father of democracy and the American Everyman. Mr. Smith is a pure idealist with a naive faith in the purity of the realization of democratic ideals within a governmental institution. This is the trait that both Deeds and Doe lack. Deeds’ down-to-earthness and appreciation of common sense make him intuitively distrust institutions from the very start; while Doe, on the other hand, initially does not care whether the institution he gets entangled with serves good or evil as long as he gets paid. At the beginning of the film Smith is thus in a highly vulnerable position and unprotected against the purgatorial and infernal experiences awaiting him. Jeff’s coming to Washington recalls Deeds’ arrival in New York. Once more Capra stresses the misplacement of his hero within big city reality. Jeff reaches Washington in the company of his late father’s best friend, Senator Joseph Paine, who is going to be Smith’s mentor and guardian in Congress. However, the contrast between Paine’s sterility and Smith’s fertility of ideological attitude is exposed very soon during the train journey where the genuineness of Smith’s emotional involvement with democratic ideals is juxtaposed with Senator Paine’s secret engagement in dishonest projects of the villain. Capra does not let the viewer wait long for further evidence of Smith’s romantic eccentricity and small-town detachment from big city rules. As Deeds before him, Smith is driven by a natural longing for the green world, which in Capra’s social comedies are frequently exchanged for art. Deeds begins his search by means of escape from the oppressive presence of institutional emissaries on the rainy evening, resulting in his meeting Mary Dowson. Smith’s desire for the green world, in this case incorporated in the form of architectural historical monuments, turns out to be even stronger, since the mere sight of the Capitol dome seen from the station window at the moment of his arrival to Washington makes him walk towards it as if in a trance. In fact, Jeff makes an all day long tour through the emblems of American history before he finally gets to his office in the evening. Similar attempts of romantic improvisation will be undertaken by Jeff in the course of the story and its originality and incompatibility with the fossilized social system will beget the opinion of Jeff being a naive simpleton. However, as Carney accurately claims, “the comic disengagement 48

Stephen Handzo claims Lincoln to be the original Mr. Smith and Christ figure of American politics. See Handzo “Under Capracorn,” 170.

130

Chapter Four

from society of Deeds, Smith, and Doe represents not stupidity but a form of radical criticism, not naiveness but extreme idealism.”49 It is the same cherished green world ideology that makes Jeff think about creating a national boys’ camp in Terry Canyon by Willet Creek for the boys to come and be taught the wonders of nature and the values of American democracy, thanks to which “every man is free to think and to speak” (“Liberty is too precious a thing to be buried in books”). The governmental loan drawn for the realization of the project would be paid off by the contribution of the boys. However, the location proposed for the camp happens to be the area of Jim Taylor’s fraudulent operations and, in fact, the mogul has been purchasing the land under false names to be used for his financial benefit after the Deficiency bill has been passed. Jeff’s proposal of his camp bill in the Senate ignites the “Taylor machine” designed either to bring into line or destroy any inconvenient troublemaker. The innocent populist scheme of Smith constitutes a threat of exposure of the political and financial corruption of Jeff’s state affairs and the politicians standing behind it. For this reason Jeff is, of necessity, introduced into the “man’s world,” as Senator Paine calls it. A dramatic confrontation with Jim Taylor, in which he is informed about the fact of the mogul’s being his state’s eminence grise pulling the strings and giving orders to Paine, among others, is a heavy blow for Jeff. Smith refuses to “compromise” in return for a proposed everlasting political career and asks Paine for the confirmation of the bitter truth. The conversation takes place at Paine’s office. It is an awkward moment in which the senior senator explains to his junior colleague the tough rules of the “man’s world”. However, the message of Paine’s lecture could as well remain unspoken as it is indicated visually by means of Capra’s arrangement of the portraits on the wall and the placement of the two main characters in the scene. The scene is static and Jeff’s fevered emotions are displayed only in his facial expression. The configuration of the two figures in the office makes the existing hierarchy obvious: Senator Paine sits on his desk with the portrait of Jim Taylor right above his head (Senator Paine symbolically portrayed as a living prolongation of Taylor’s ideas), but Smith, standing in his usual lanky pose, is at the same level as the mighty mogul’s picture. Such a mise-en-scene suggests Jeff’s determination to oppose Jim Taylor’s world order. The discovery of the brutal status quo strikes Jeff with a double force as he has to face a double disappointment: with the idealised American political system and with his long admired and worshiped surrogate father, 49

Carney, American Vision, 309.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

131

Joseph Paine. It is perhaps the latter that Jeff accepts with more incredulity as he has been brought up in the air of reverence for Paine, his idealist father’s best friend and companion in heroic fights for “the lost causes” to which Clayton Smith literally gave his life. Joseph Paine is not, however, an unequivocal character. Unlike Taylor, who beyond any doubt can be called a villain, Paine’s categorization is more troublesome. With his past commitment to “lost causes” and a clear sentiment for Jeff’s idealistic philosophy expressed already during the train journey in his recollection of Jeff’s father, as well as in his gazing out through the window as if in search of the lost ideals of the youth50 and, finally, considering the fact that his political career brought him the nickname of the Silver Knight,51 Paine cannot be treated as a plain villain. It seems Paine would still represent Jeff’s morality, had he not consented to James Taylor’s “tailoring”52 of his identity thirty years earlier. An interesting triangle of relationships emerges from the above equation. Poague interprets them in the romantic terms of the archetypal Faustian relation: the hero-Smith–the good angel vs. the villain-Taylor–the bad angel, and Paine–Faustus caught in the middle.53 Hence, the reverse of the situation’s picture suggests that “Paine is [...] what Jeff could be were he to lose his populist faith”54 and agreed to compromise to Taylor’s steamroller, as Paine advises. It is conspicuous, however, that Paine is resentful towards the pieces of advice he utters as a Taylor’s messenger and which aim at transforming an idealistic populist activist into a political marionette like Paine himself. Nevertheless, he yields to Taylor’s threats of terminating his political career and dutifully gets down to the task of destroying Jeff’s political veracity, notwithstanding the fact that “to destroy Smith [...] is the last step between Paine and complete damnation.”55 It is in the last sequence of the film that Paine finally can no longer stand the responsibility for Jeff’s ideological crucifixion and through a dramatic suicidal attempt he clears Senator Smith of the allegations of fraud and misconduct and confirms Jeff’s statements concerning the role and position of James Taylor within his state. 50

The motif of gazing out through the window is, according to Poague, the frequent habit of Capra’s dreamers. See Poague, Another Frank Capra, 160. 51 During the conversation following Jeff's confrontation with Taylor, Paine admits that he agreed to compromise thirty years earlier in order to be able to serve his state well in a thousand honest ways. 52 Recall the symbolic meaning of tailoring Deeds’ attire. 53 See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 183. 54 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 184. 55 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 183.

132

Chapter Four

Paradoxically, the sterile suicidal act allows Paine to become a fertile character once more. Joe Paine is, therefore, Capra’s purgatorial version of a villain-hero (a weaker Kirby, Sr. type) who, in the course of the story, like a Dickensian Scrooge, undergoes the conversion of conscience and regains the heroic features he had once possessed. Jeff’s refusal to be absorbed into Taylor’s steamroller machinery leaves him isolated in the arena of politics. The evidence of his owning the very land on which the camp is designed to be located is fabricated in no time and the accusation of fraud and corruption is claimed against Smith. However, to be accused of using nickels and dimes belonging to the boys from all over the country for his own profit is too much for Jeff, and without a word spoken in his defence, like Deeds after learning about Mary’s deceit, Smith decides to leave Washington and return to his home town. The burden of disillusionment leads him first to the cherished Abraham Lincoln memorial where, in an air of profound despair, he contemplates the revered emblems of American democracy once more. The feeling of Jeff’s uprootedness and otherworldliness is more conspicuous in this scene than at any earlier point. Capra offers the viewers the visual study of his hero’s struggle with emotional breakdown and it takes merely two minutes to illustrate the acuteness of Jeff’s state of mind by means of the shots of his facial expression entwined with the pictures of patriotic symbols. This sequence of dramatic silence, complemented only by music, in which he looks up at the Lincoln statue as if in a prayer and then down at the ground with disappointment in his eyes, is a significant moment in Jeff’s maturation process. The bitter experience, which shakes the basis of his hitherto known world, allows the childlike boy ranger to absorb Poague’s rule stating the necessity of accurate perception and estimation of the problem and subsequent finding an appropriate solution for it. Before he is ready to fulfil the latter, however, he needs to face his own ideological doubts. He also needs to establish whom he wants to be: a disillusioned boy ready to give up and withdraw, thus confirming that the world belongs to Taylor-like dictators; or a warrior who, like his father, fights for the lost cause in the name of ideals, justice, freedom of the individual, and “plain, decent, everyday common rightness.” The short moment Smith spends at Lincoln’s feet is an infernal sequence. The alienated, despairing and utterly unheroic hero has been stripped of his main virtue–romantic ideology and faith in the essential goodness of men. Like Longfellow Deeds in his infernal asylum, Smith also rejects the chance to speak and defend himself. In fact, he remains silent until Saunders finds him at the Lincoln Memorial. Similarly as in

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

133

Mr. Deeds the scene is dark and gloomy. The space is confined by the pillars on either side and the wall behind Smith with the single window higher up above his head. The scenery recalls the picture of Deed’s cell and signifies the claustrophobic seclusion of the character within it. Once more Capra presents the faceless silhouette of the hero sitting on his suitcases (packed up for leaving) in the bent position of a folk carving with his head buried in his hands. Nevertheless, as it turns out later on, the scenography of the above sequence can be understood twofold. For Smith, it is certainly an infernal moment of internal breakdown and conviction of utter impotence and helplessness. At a closer look, however, one can recognize the signs of hope that Capra left for the viewers to discover. The choice of the Lincoln Memorial for a place of Jeff’s contemplations is not incidental. He returns to the place which on his first day in Washington impressed him so much with the magnitude of its democratic message, and the figure of Lincoln has long been the source of the young patriot’s inspiration. Now, in his search for some clue of how to act, Jeff mistakes the cold solemnity of the statue of Lincoln with indifference and deceit. However, the lit-up window, the pillars supporting the monument’s edifice and, finally, the father figure of Lincoln are all signs of hope, ideological strength and fatherly protection. It is Jeff’s infernally clouded perception that makes him unable to decipher their meaning. It takes Saunders (appearing out of the blue and significantly from the side of light), his helper in the purgatorial struggle, to translate the signs, revive Jeff’s romantic inspirations and, consequently, drag him out of his infernal abyss. Clarissa Saunders is a Babe Bennett type of character–a strong, selfmade woman getting along in a cynical urban world. Unlike Bennett, she was brought up in the big city of Baltimore and therefore she lacks the purity of small town perception of Deeds and Smith or small town memories of Bennett. Nevertheless, as we learn in the course of the story, her honesty and sentiment for ideological commitment, which come to light later in the film, were probably passed on to her by her father, a doctor, who “thought more of ethics than he did about collections.” The years of solitary work in Washington, however, turn Saunders into a Bennett-like cynic who cares only about her career and financial profits. She accurately pronounces her credo within the conversation with Senator Paine: “When I came here, my eyes were big blue question marks, now they’re big green dollar marks.” As in the case of Bennett, the sterile attitude undergoes a transformation under the influence of the fertile romanticism of Mr. Smith. Her initial contempt for naivety of Jeff is erased and, what is more, exchanged for admiration and a budding feeling

134

Chapter Four

of love, at the moment of their common work on preparation of the Willet Creek camp bill when Smith verbally delivers an impressionistic picture of the land’s beauty: The prairies and wind leaning on the tall grass, lazy streams down in the meadows, angry little midgets of water up in the mountains. Cattle moving down the slope, against the sun. Campfires, and snowdrifts. You know, everybody ought to have some of that sometime in his life. My dad had the right idea. He had it all worked out. He used to say to me: "Son, don’t miss the wonders that surround you. Because every tree, every rock, every anthill, every star is filled with wonders of nature. [...] Did you ever notice how grateful you are to see daylight again after coming from a long, dark tunnel? Well, always try to see life around you as if you just came out of a tunnel."56

Saunders, “a pure city dweller,” finds the words oddly inspiring and it seems, as she listens with glossy tearful eyes (indicating her romantic potential), the thought spoken the next day to her journalist friend, Diz Moore (Thomas Mitchell), is born at this moment: “I wonder [...] if it isn’t a curse to go through life wised up like you and me.” This particular moment of attaining emotional unity between Smith and Saunders will clearly determine the further chain of events. In fact, Clarissa’s further actions bring to mind the confused conduct of Babe Bennett after she recognizes that the zany otherworldliness of Deeds’ is merely an expression of small town, green world authenticity. Deeds’ awkward rainy night proposal is the final element to make Babe decide to quit her cynical “smart alec” pose, which brought about Longfellow’s social crucifixion. Saunders, on the other hand, even though she is partially responsible for bringing Jeff’s mocking pictures to the first pages of the newspapers when he first arrives in Washington by allowing him to 56

Jeff’s poetic description of the land on which he hopes to build the boys camp recalls Peter Warne’s visionary dream of the island in the Pacific. Both are the romantic visions of the dreamers striving for the realization of desires of their hearts. It is not insignificant that in both cases the heroes reveal their visions to their female companions. The response coming from Ellie and Clarissa is alike and for both the moment initiates a new phase in life. It allows Ellie to declare her feelings for Peter openly, and thus establish her identity and her longings. For Clarissa, who has never known a different life style then the one she leads, it is the moment of reflection on the values and sense of her existence and it makes her wonder if perhaps there is something more to life than her career and material well-being. Capra intensifies the emotionality of both scenes by symbolism of light and water. Light means hope and the tears in the eyes of Ellie and Clarissa signify the fertile, romantic potential of both heroines.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

135

take part in an unofficial press conference, is not burdened with such grave a guilt as Bennett. Saunders decides quite quickly she does not want to participate in Jeff’s “murder”. She informs the ignorant senator of the treacherous work of Jim Taylor and his associates and in a drunken despair advises him to go home, since with his decency he does not belong in this place. Subsequently, like Bennett, she declares that she is quitting her job. The next time Saunders appears onscreen is in the role of Jeff’s guardian angel within his film noir infernal sequence. As the scene unfolds, it becomes clear that Clarissa’s conversion into a romantic heroine has been completed and that Smith’s green world philosophy is now closer to her heart than the cynical Dizz Moore’s assumption that “dopes are going to inherit the earth anyway.” The most direct confirmation of Saunder’s transformation is provided within the inspired speech she delivers to the infernally desperate Smith on the steps of Lincoln Memorial in response to Jeff’s conviction of his utter helplessness in the face of powerful moguls’ politics: Your friend, Mr. Lincoln had his Taylors and Paines. So did every other man who tried to lift his thought up off the ground. Odds against them didn’t stop them, they were fools that way. All the good that ever came into this world came from fools with faith like that. You know that. You can’t quit now. Not you. They aren’t all Taylors and Paines in Washington. That kind just throw big shadows, that’s all. You didn’t just have faith in Paine or any other living man. You had faith in something bigger than that. You had plain, decent, everyday common rightness and this country could use some of that. So could the whole cockeyed world. A lot of it.

Such inspired poetic rhetoric has been so far exclusive to Jeff Smith and other Capra romantic heroes like Peter Warne or Longfellow Deeds. Thus, through obtaining the skill of verbal articulation of the romantic idealism, Saunders acquires the role of a “transmitter” of Jeff’s voice the moment he is no longer able to provide it himself within his infernal alienation. In fact, Smith and Saunders help each other mutually: Jeff inspires Clarissa’s conversion into the fertile romanticism; Clarissa’s transformation, on the other hand, becomes a vital element of Smith’s maturation. Like in the case of Bennett and Deeds, it is Saunders’ declaration of faith in Smith and his ideology that enables Jeff to regain his voice57 and equips him with strength to step onto the purgatorial path 57

Poague argues that Saunders’ role in Jeff’s regaining the ability to speak is even more important. He claims her physical presence is, in fact, necessary for Smith’s verbalisation of his visions. Whenever Saunders is absent from the Senate, Poague states, Smith is quickly silenced and excluded from the privilege to express his

136

Chapter Four

of a warrior cultivating his father’s belief that an individual can make a difference. Hence, for Jefferson Smith, as for Longfellow Deeds, to be mature means to be identity conscious and to face the assaults of reality within an oppressive system. Saved from the pit of inferno, in a symbolic gesture of salute to Lincoln Smith joins the pantheon of American heroes. Jefferson Smith begins the following day in the Senate with a revived spirit, combative mood, and a new voice. His harsh infernal experience made him understand that in order to be heard in the sterile “men’s world” he has to learn to translate the “language of desire [...] into public forms of expression.”58 Hence, when he rises to speak, it is no longer with the stuttering voice of an unskilful novice awkwardly proposing the bill for the first time. It is the voice of a conscious grown up man convinced of the propriety of his actions and determined to confront the allegations stated against him with his head held high. Moreover, at the threshold of his expulsion from the Senate, Smith is aware that, in all probability, it is his last chance to speak his rights publicly and it is not merely his reputation which is at stake, but the future of his state kept in the power of the political and economic dictator (“The people in my state need permanent relief from the crooked man riding their backs!”). As Carney suggests, “to have the ideals and values and not to express them or make them count in any significant public way would be to remain a Boy Ranger leader back in Montana or to despair and go scurrying back there at the first evidence of the difficulty of such public expression in the Senate.”59 Thus, Smith’s almost twenty-four-hour-long filibuster performed on the floor of the Senate is the act of the populist fight for social justice and human liberty– the basic right of every individual guaranteed by the constitution of the democratic country. It is “democracy in action”. It is impossible for Jefferson Smith and Longfellow Deeds to avoid entanglements in the net of social relations. In both cases the characters sooner or later come to the conclusion that the only way to achieve freedom and independence within the socially encoded and contextualised reality is to “plunge deep into [the] system and to find a way to master [it]. The best way out [...] is through.”60 Having realized this, both Deeds and Smith decide to act, which in both cases is expressed through the heroes' public solo performances. As soon as Deeds wakes up from his infernal silence and speaks in his defence during the climactic sanity hearing scene, opinions freely. See his Another Frank Capra, 169. 58 Carney, American Vision, 337. 59 Carney, American Vision, 337. 60 Carney, American Vision, 311.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

137

the positive result of his performance is almost certain. Smith's performance, however, although in large measure planned by collaborative efforts of his and Saunders, is a battle on a much larger scale than the one of Deeds and its victory can neither be predicted nor guaranteed until the very end. Hence, whereas Deeds can be called a dramatic actor playing his part in the local theatre, Smith is more a gladiator in a national arena. In the course of the movie Jeff Smith is called many names by various characters in the story: Daniel Boon, Tarzan, old honest Abe, and Don Quixote among others. All of them indicate Smith’s link to heroic tradition and in the light of his final act of one-man resistance their accuracy becomes clear. Robert Willson attributes this mythic dimension of the main character to the more serious (than in Capra’s earlier movies) historical and political subject of the film.61 As Diz Moore announces at the start of Jeff’s performance, Smith’s filibuster “is the most titanic battle of modern times. A David without even a slingshot rises to battle against the mighty Goliath, the Taylor machine crooked inside and out.” And indeed, Jeff’s spurt may create the impression of an inspired Don Quixote’s attempts to fight the windmills. However, Smith rises to this battle with something more than his bare hands (and the flask he brings to the Senate chamber as a comic prop for the play). He is, in fact, armed with a strength-giving weapon of his Lincolnesque qualities of goodheartedness and tough-mindedness, his idealism, and a strong conviction that “fighting for a ‘lost cause’ is the closest [he] can get to heaven.”62 And the outcome of his strenuous performance brings Smith as close to heaven as it is possible for a purgatorial romantic hero. Moreover, the entire act also acquires the meaning of the hero’s purgatorial struggle for achieving the goal, which by Murphy’s definition can be attained merely partially or remain on the verge of being achieved. Nevertheless, by no means does the fact diminish the importance of the filibuster as an act of Smith’s social and political protest. As Willson claims, it is “the key gesture by which he forces the Congress to see how it has been diverted from its proper function.”63 Thus, together with the conversion of Joseph Paine, it may be stated that Jeff’s efforts are crowned with victory after all. However, Smith’s actions do not manage to move the heart of the villain. The aspect of villainy in Mr Smith is much darker than it was in the case of Mr. Deeds and its intensity will reach its culmination in the third part of the trilogy, Meet John Doe. Contrary to Deeds, who struggles 61

See Willson, “Capra’s Comic Sense,” 92. Capra quoted in Carney, American Vision, 315. 63 Willson, “Capra's Comic Sense,” 92. 62

138

Chapter Four

against a rather impersonalised villain,64 i.e. an invalid oppressive system of institutionalised entanglements, Smith’s and Doe’s enemies are twofold: the vile system and the powerful executives within it. Smith and Doe have to literally face the villains and stand up to them. In Mr. Smith, Capra presents James Taylor's political machine within which [t]here are no permanent enemies and no dependable friends in this impersonal world; there is only a network of shifting power relations to which one either conforms, to be swallowed up by them, or that one bucks, to be cast out of them.65

Taylor’s lack of any emotional and personal commitment within this network allows him to invite new players into the game or get rid of any of his pawns with regard to the need of the moment. According to Carney, Capra indicates that Taylor “is a ghost in the machine that can never be actually exorcised or erased.”66 The accuracy of the above suggestion is proved by depiction of omnipotence of Taylor’s far-reaching tentacles involved in organizing the anti-Smith campaign during Jeff’s filibuster through which Smith hopes to reach the people of his state and make them protest against Taylor’s corrupt politics. However, instead of the voice of the populace, the viewer is provided with a hair-raising picture of the setting in motion of the wheels of the dictator’s steamroller machinery designed to smash any form of independent individual thought. In no time at all Taylor manages to turn the media against Smith, making Jeff’s efforts to communicate his populist message futile. Taylor’s aim to create a national commotion (“Keep the hoi polloi excited”) is achieved: antiSmith assemblies and demonstrations are organized around the state, newspapers and radio stations accuse Smith of lies and frauds, while the Boy Rangers’ attempts to save their leader’s good name are quickly repressed, and in a rather drastic manner. In the end, the mogul’s propaganda results in delivering to Congress thousands of telegrams– apparent transmitters of public opinion made to order–demanding the young senator to yield the floor. Taylor’s actions remind neither the business and family struggles of 64

Cedar, who is a legal representative of the institutionalised big city reality threatening Deeds, cannot be treated as an equivalent of James Taylor and D. B. Norton. Both Taylor and Norton hold real executive power over affairs of national importance and thus constitute a serious threat not merely to one person, but to a state or the entire country. 65 Carney, American Vision, 303. 66 Carney, American Vision, 317.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

139

Mr. Kirby, Sr., nor Cedar’s attempts to take over the control of Deeds’ fortunes. The villain of Mr. Smith is a profoundly evil character who, for the sake of the consolidation of his position and achieving his goals is ready to resort to criminal actions and does not falter in any circumstances. Willson points out that “Capra revealed too much of the real viciousness in [Taylor] to allow for a magical transformation of him in the end.”67 The claim turns out to be appropriate also in the case of D. B. Norton. Therefore, it may be stated that, whereas Capra’s villain-heroes like Kirby, Sr. or Joseph Paine can undergo a transformation in the course of the story since they possess a positive potential all along, Capra’s villains remain vile and unchanged until the very end. Smith fails to predict the enormity of Taylor’s power and, restricted by the walls of the Senate during his filibuster, he cannot react to it in any other way than verbally. The climatic final scene in which the frail and utterly exhausted Smith is confronted with a public response to his filibuster turns out to be the next cog in Taylor’s wheel and Jeff quickly recognizes the fact. However, the scene of the final ritual humiliation of the hero presents Senator Smith in a dramatic pose suggesting an “Ecce Homo” reference.68 Having acknowledged that he has been deserted by the people in the name of whom this battle was fought, with “Taylor-made” telegrams in his hands, he stretches his arms and raises his head as if in a silent question: “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?”69 However, the encouraging smile from the Vice President (Harry Carey) lets Jeff know that he has not been abandoned, after all, and it gives him the strength to carry on. After a short pregnant pause in which the anguish in Jeff’s eyes reflects the drama of the hero’s emotions–disillusionment, despair, the overwhelming feeling of loss–mixed with the unshaken resolution of fight until the unknown end, Smith addresses Senator Paine, beginning with the latter’s own words: I guess this is just another lost cause, Mr. Paine. All you people don’t know about the lost causes. Mr. Paine does. He said once they were the only causes worth fighting for. And he fought for them once, for the only reason that any man ever fights for them. Because of just one plain, simple rule: "Love thy neighbour." And in this world today, full of hatred, a man who knows that one rule has a great trust. [...] You all think I’m licked. Well, I’m not licked. And I’m going to stay right here and fight for this lost cause even if this room gets filled with lies like these, and the Taylors and their armies come marching into this place. Somebody’ll listen to me. 67

Willson, “Capra's Comic Sense,” 95. See Handzo, “Under Capracorn,” 171. 69 See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 186. 68

140

Chapter Four

Smith faints after these words, but the duel between Don Quixote and the Silver Knight is not over until Paine’s conscience makes him reveal the entire truth after a failed suicidal attempt in the foyer of the Senate chamber. Smith’s ritual victory becomes a communal festivity confined to those present in the building of the Senate and excluding its main actor who is still unconscious and therefore unaware of his moral triumph. Handzo suggests that “[t]he film ends ambiguously with the Senate in turmoil and the fate of the political machine unresolved.”70 Nevertheless, Smith’s victory should be treated not as much in terms of politics, but rather in terms of morality and idealism.71 Andrew Bergman points out that “[w]hen Senator Paine admits the truth, Smith is vindicated, but the end [is] not unity, rather it [is] a reinforcement of faith in the emblems of democracy.”72 Such a point of view provides the evidence for the theory that Jeff’s filibuster is a purgatorial struggle and, thus, his moral triumph is a purgatorial victory. Smith’s final address to Senator Paine proves that he is now mature enough to realize that one cannot win a lost cause and by that he “demonstrates his hard-won sense of realism.”73 Poague claims that it is thanks to providence and a miracle that Smith can achieve his victory.74 According to Graham Greene, the story is a fairy tale all along, so it is only natural for the main hero to win in the end.75 Nevertheless, even if Mr. Smith is a fairy tale, it must be stated explicitly that it is one of the purgatorial type in which the hero is exposed to a strenuous uphill struggle and a constant quest for achieving his aims. Carney considers Smith’s actions in the category of modern heroism assuming the unceasing effort of an individual to “make the difference that will make the difference.”76 Therefore, although Capra leaves the question of political problems of national importance open, Smith’s triumph denotes the victory of romantic ideals and morality of an individual. It also 70

Handzo, “Under Capracorn,” 171. Poague points out that in his social films Capra does not provide the recipe for social or economic recovery. He claims that Mr. Deeds is not a political tract, but a comedy of personal morality. Mr. Smith, although concerned with democratic process and its corruption, focuses mainly on the emotional and moral issues of the central character. See his The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 180. 72 Andrew Bergman, “Frank Capra And Screwball Comedy,” in Frank Capra, Glatzer and Raeburn, 80. 73 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 186. 74 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 186. 75 Greene “A Director Of Genius: Four Reviews,” 116. 76 Carney, American Vision, 314. 71

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

141

confirms the fact that one man can make the difference even if it seems he fights the windmills. With Mr. Deeds and Mr. Smith, Capra most certainly keeps the promise to express his gratitude to America for the realization of the American Dream in his life by means of singing the songs of praise of common men: “long-shot players who light candles in the wind and resent being pushed around because of race or birth.”77 In Meet John Doe Capra continues the exploration of the subject; however, the construction of the story is different than in the case of its social predecessors. First and foremost, as Capra stated, “a significant change to the protagonist was made: we started out not with an innately good man, but with a drifter who didn’t give a damn whether he was good or bad.”78 Hence, Long John Willoughby starts from an entirely different position than the solid, good-hearted Deeds and starry-eyed, idealistic Smith. However, as I have already suggested, John is also the symbol of an average man whom Capra places into the centre of a script written by someone else. Thus, like Deeds and Smith, Willoughby exemplifies the vulnerability of the common man “to the manipulation of power-hungry plutocrats.”79 In fact, John is turned into a marionette in the very first scene in which he appears in the movie as he is viewed and measured by Ann and a managing director of the New Bulletin, Henry Connell (James Gleason). As soon as he agrees to play the part of John Doe, he is provided with a proper costume, a dressing room, a new name and a life story. Soon, the appropriate words are put into his mouth and the only element to link the character to his hitherto existing life is his cynical companion, the Colonel (Walter Brennan), who constantly and unchangeably opposes the whole John Doe business. The process of tailoring the character’s identity, to which two other trilogy heroes were also submitted, is much darker in the case of Willoughby than in the previous films: Deeds resents it symbolically by means of refusing to wear a tail coat, “the monkey suit” designed for him, as well as by expressing his opinions towards managing his money openly; Smith straightforwardly refuses to subordinate to Taylor’s demands as soon as he learns about his fraudulent schemes. The case of Willoughby is different, since it is assumed from the very beginning that he is the archetypal "little man" with not much personality of his own. And John accepts such an assumption without question. Richard Glatzer indicates the bleakness of Capra’s implication that “the anonymous ‘little 77

Capra, The Name Above The Title, 240. Capra quoted in McBride, Frank Capra, 431. 79 Willson, “Capra's Comic Sense,” 94. 78

142

Chapter Four

man’, so long as he remains anonymous, is little more than a moral blank slate.”80 The new identity Long John acquires after his magic-wand transformation into John Doe is not his own either, for “[h]is broadcast body and amplified voice are, along with everything else about him, products of the technologies of knowledge, the packaging and processing of reality in the film.”81 Doe is thus a creation of the joint efforts of Ann Mitchell providing the character with personality and idealism of her late father, and D. B. Norton securing the financial resources for creating and cultivating the myth of John Doe. In this respect Carney indicates the irony of the film’s title: “Meeting John Doe is not only something that never happens–it is something that can never happen. There is no John Doe to meet.”82 Moreover, the moment John agrees to participate in the charade, the person up until now bearing the name Willoughby also gets erased and thus what is left is the character deprived of any possibilities of self expression or attempts of individual performance greater than rare occasions like a harmonica duet or imaginary baseball game played with Colonel. In Meet John Doe there is no space for individualism, improvisation or creativity. There is a script written for John Doe’s every word and movement. As the story unfolds, John’s role ceases to be a mere agreement between the ex-baseball player wanting to make some money for his arm surgery and the New Bulletin’s editor. It becomes a publicity stunt of national importance; in fact, a crucial link in D. B. Norton’s political machine. Long John remains oblivious to the double dimensional nature of the stunt almost until the very end of the movie. However, at some point he is made aware that his part in the show means the end of his baseball career, since after the truth of his being a fake comes out, in all probability he will be finished in baseball as well. Therefore, practically right from the onset, John steps onto a one-way street at the end of which, unless a miracle occurs, there can be not much more than defeat. Both Deeds and Smith had their escape routes in case of failure: Deeds could always get back to his idyllic, fertile Mandrake Falls, his orchestra and his petty business back home; Smith had his own scrap of heaven on earth in Montana and his Boy Rangers to return to. For John Doe, however, there is neither of these prospects to escape to. As Willoughby, he is the most alienated and devoid of any familial or communal aspect of the three heroes, and stripped of Doe’s personality he 80

Richard Glatzer, “Meet John Doe: An End To Social Myth Making,” in Frank Capra, Glatzer and Raeburn (ed.), 145. 81 Carney, American Vision, 351. 82 Carney, American Vision, 351.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

143

remains almost entirely decontextualised. In comparison to Bennett and Saunders, Meet John Doe’s heroine, Ann Mitchell, is constructed in a more complex way. She starts the movie as Capra’s usual cynical reporter interested mostly in money making, and following the pattern of Bennett and Saunders, she undergoes a vital transformation from cynicism to idealism as the film unfolds. However, the process of Ann’s transformation has a different source than in the case of her two female predecessors, as she is converted not by the hero but by her late father,83 who in the course of the story acquires the role of the romantic opponent of the villain in Capra’s typical struggle between fertile idealism and sterile cynicism. Ann’s interests in gaining financial profits do not flow out of purely egoistic motives, but of the poor material situation of her family: a mother and two kid-sisters, of whom she is the only provider. The spontaneous creation of the suicide letter from John Doe is, then, a desperate attempt to regain her job after she, along with many other employees of the New Bulletin, is made redundant by order of Norton, the new owner of the newspaper. Nevertheless, she cannot predict either the enormity of public reaction or the stunt’s further development, and most certainly, while writing the letter she does not have in mind any vicious plots towards which D. B. Norton’s involvement finally leads. The John Doe publicity stunt acquires different meanings for everybody entangled in it: for Long John it means the chance for the treatment of his bad arm; Norton expects to gain public support in his political career; for Ann it is initially the way out of her family's financial crisis and, subsequently, it becomes the opportunity to promote her deceased father’s populist life philosophy, which becomes the core of the series of John’s public speeches written by Ann. John Doe’s first radio broadcast becomes an anxiously awaited public event. In the moment preceding the speech, however, Long John is torn between the unwillingness to let Ann down and willingness to accept five thousand dollars offered to him by the Chronicle for admitting publicly that the whole story is a frame-up and he himself is a fake. Ann, who put all of her heart into the speech into which she combined her journalistic talent and her father’s idealism, though unaware of John’s dilemma, induces him to stick by his role with her pleas to think of himself as the real John Doe (for “he’s turned out to be a wonderful person”), to do his best, and to “go out there and pitch.” Carney calls this action of Ann’s

83

See Maland, Frank Capra, 111.

144

Chapter Four

“emotional and imaginative blackmail,”84 and a very clever one, as she intentionally refers to baseball knowing that this particular reference is likely to reach John’s sense of pride. Thus, from such a perspective, delivering Ann’s speech becomes a matter of principle and Long John performs it convincingly, though as soon as he is off the air, he joins the ever reluctant Colonel and resolves to back out of the whole John Doe business. John’s Sermon on the Mount-like speech85 creates a national commotion and results in forming the chain of John Doe Clubs inspired by the ideas of plain neighbourly kindness and aiming at changing the world into a better place through the improvement of the relations among the common people, the John Does of the earth. The speech urges people to tear down the fences separating them from each other and create a team. Subsequently, as a proof that realization of the above ideas does not necessarily come to a merely unfeasible reverie, Doe refers to Christmas and the unique spirit that Yuletide festivities bring about annually: I know a lot of you are saying to yourselves: "He’s asking for a miracle to happen. He’s expecting people to change all of the sudden." Well, you’re wrong. It’s no miracle. It’s no miracle because I see it happen once every year. And so do you. At Christmas time! There’s something swell about the spirit of Christmas, to see what it does to people, all kinds of people. Now, why can’t that spirit, that same warm Christmas spirit last the whole year round? Gosh, if it ever did, if each and every John Doe would make that spirit last three hundred and sixty five days out of the year, we’d develop such a strength, we’d create such a tidal wave of good will, that no human force could stand against it.86

This “Santa Claus socialism,”87 to use Poague's term, met with a vast critical response of reviewers and scholars, who accused Capra of an unacceptable vulgarisation of the New Testament theme, and called Meet John Doe a simpleminded, childish and nauseating development of the subject putting the viewer’s good taste to the test. 88 84

Carney, American Vision, 358. See Otis Ferguson “The Business Of Promoting A Thesis. Four Reviews” in Frank Capra, (ed.) Glatzer and Reaburn, 107. 86 The speech conspicuously echoes the populist message of Dickensian Christmas Carol, which also highlights the unique power of this particular Christian festivity to alter and transform human hearts and to make people sensitive to the needs of the others. 87 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 196. 88 See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 195. 85

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

145

Nevertheless, upon careful scrutiny of Ann Mitchell and Long John and their relationship, it becomes clear that the straightforward and slightly simplistic message of Doe’s first speech, apart from its clear populist implication, also serves a different purpose. Namely, the speech becomes the moment within which both of the characters’ transformation begins. Ann, in fact, gets converted already while writing the speech, which is made evident in her announcement that she has actually fallen in love with the John Doe of her speech, as well as in the tearful intense looks fixed on John performing the role during the broadcast. Long John, in spite of his act of physical withdrawal after the broadcast, also gets hooked by the essence of Ann’s father's philosophy, which Capra indicates by means of John’s ruminative pauses and accents, as well as his gradually increasing engagement into the uttered words. Therefore, the speech forms and expresses a romantic populist ideal which will have to be incorporated into cynical reality and defended by the protagonists. The main point of the speech then is to test Ann’s and John’s emotional attitude toward the presented fertile idealism, and to instigate the process of maturation of the hero and the heroine. Capra formulates his definition of maturity quite clearly in his movies: to be mature denotes taking full responsibility for one’s choices, actions and creations, and never to back off from the task one undertakes in a cogent case. At this point, however, Long John is still on the threshold of his conversion and hence uncertain about where to locate his loyalties. Ann, on the other hand, is focused slightly too much on her own aim’s success to be bothered about John and how badly the stunt may affect him personally. Meet John Doe heroes’ essential problem lies in the fact that, unlike Bennett and Saunders who had the clear examples of the purely moral behaviour of Deeds and Smith right before their eyes to follow, both Ann and Long John are deprived of such guidance.89 Since it is only the ghost of Ann’s father captured between the pages of his diary that helps them, it is only natural that the characters are prone to commit mistakes at some point. The theme of fatherhood is a recurrent motif in Capra’s films. In fact, Capra heroes are often fatherless in a biological sense and, if that is the case, their actions are frequently determined by the ideological legacy inherited from their fathers. This premise proves particularly adequate in relation to Capra's purgatorial characters. Jefferson Smith’s system of values is built on the idealistic philosophy of his deceased father, who sacrificed his life for the sake of defending human rights against social 89

See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 196.

146

Chapter Four

injustice. The late Dr. Mitchell plays a similar role in passing his romantic ideology to Ann and subsequently to Long John. Furthermore, both Babe Bennett and Clarissa Saunders at some point mention their fathers who, as it turns out, were also the advocates of populist ideas and fertile idealism. The power of such a populist inheritance proves to be strong enough to awake its heirs’ desire to transform their life and even sacrifice it in the name of noble ideals. In Capra's purgatorial universe, however, the protagonists are frequently exposed to the threat of being misguided by some false father figures. Carney points out that “[i]n the temporary absence or abdication of one father, there is always another father figure instantly ready to step into his empty shoes and to assert his authority in place of the absent one.”90 James Taylor plays the role of a father to his protégés; nevertheless, he does not hesitate to destroy any of his subordinates if his self-serving purpose demands it. Thus he is a false father figure, as is D. B. Norton. The difference of this particular aspect in Mr. Smith and Meet John Doe lies in the fact that whereas Jeff Smith never agrees to participate in Taylor’s vicious schemes, Ann Mitchell consciously chooses to conspire with Norton. In Meet John Doe reality is drawn with gloomy shades–the story and its characters are more solemn and undeniably darker than in the previous films in the trilogy. Hence, the villain is also more villainous than before. D. B. Norton is “a vicious man with a vicious purpose”, as we hear him called in the film before we first see him on screen, and in his lust after naked power he surpasses the financial greed of James Taylor and the city shysters of Mr. Deeds.91 Capra introduces the villain in a non-verbal way which does not leave any doubts as to the figure’s character and aspirations. The scene presents Norton on horseback watching the dangerous presentation of motorcycle troops, marked D. B. Norton Motor Corps, performing solely for his own purpose. Capra further indicates the magnitude of Norton’s ambitions by placing on his desk an equestrian statuette of Napoleon in a similar pose to Norton’s at the moment of his introduction. Subsequently we are offered the scene during which Ann explains the details of her John Doe stunt and what profits it may bring to Mr. Norton’s political career. At this point Ann does not realize how dangerous conspiring with a tycoon like Norton may be. D. B. Norton, however, appreciates Ann’s brightness, directness and determination in heading for her goal. Therefore, he agrees to provide financial patronage to John Doe’s first radio broadcast, and 90 91

Carney, American Vision, 48. See Glatzer, “Meet John Doe,” 144.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

147

next to further the development of the John Doe movement. Capra, however, does not let the viewer be deluded by pretences for a long time and, as the story unfolds, we learn about the real motives of Norton’s “charitable” activities, namely creating a John Doe party and gaining support of the voters during the forthcoming presidential election. Ann Mitchell remains deaf and blind to the “Hitlerian national menace that D.B. Norton poses”92 until the day preceding the John Doe national convention. John, on the other hand, like Jefferson Smith before him, is oblivious to his role in aiding Norton’s totalitarian schemes even longer. In fact, even after his return to the role of John Doe, Long John is a much weaker character than any of the previous Capra heroes. Unlike Deeds and Smith, in Carney's words: Doe represents not youth, innocence or inexperience but a ‘doughiness’, a plasticity, an availability for endless but impermanent deformation. He is a drifter without any particular convictions or beliefs, willing to take the path of least resistance.93

In Millville, he allows himself to be influenced by the common-good experiences of the first John Doe Club’ members and gets back into his role. Nevertheless, having acknowledged the fact of the movement’s beneficial impact upon the improvement of neighbourly relations throughout the country, he never stops to ask if there is something he could do for the clubs apart from impersonating Doe and performing the script written by Ann. He never questions the sincerity of D. B. Norton’s attitude towards the movement. Furthermore, it never crosses his mind to reflect on the morality of his own actions. It may be stated, then, that John’s transformation from a blank amoral drifter to a romantic populist instigated during his first radio broadcast and strengthened by the Millville John Doe Club’s members declaring that there is no sense in his jumping off any building, as he “can be mighty useful working around for a while”, as well as his social and emotional maturation is going to be a long purgatorial process. In fact, John’s transformation and subsequently his maturation turns out to be a much more complex process than in the case of Deeds and Smith, since both of his predecessors possessed a well ordered and firmly established system of values and ideals. Hence, what they lacked for the completion of their maturation was the aforementioned ability to reconcile their romantic visions and idealism with the rules and demands of big city reality. John, however, first and 92 93

Glatzer, “Meet John Doe,” 144. Carney, American Vision, 357.

Chapter Four

148

foremost, enters the story as a cynical figure unable or rather uninterested in learning to differentiate between good and evil, morality and immorality. Therefore, in order to achieve his maturity, he first has to get rid of his amoral, sterile cynicism and to establish his moral code. Carney’s statement concerning Mr. Smith proves to be appropriate also in reference to Deeds and even more so to Meet John Doe. He claims that in Smith the individual has been ‘dethroned’ [...] from the creation of value. [...] Machines (in all senses of the word–political, journalistic, and industrial), bureaucracies of relationship, and impersonal networks of affiliation have replaced individuals as the authors of value and controllers of interpretation.94

John’s case is again the gloomiest, since it exposes the character’s indifference to the shape of reality within which he exists. Capra intentionally juxtaposes Long John’s passiveness to John Doe’s social commitment, highlighted already in the first series of newspaper headlines: “I protest against the collapse of decency of the world”, “I protest against corruption in local politics”, “I protest against civic heads being in league with crime”, “I protest against state relief being used as a political football”, “I protest against County Hospitals shutting doors to needy”, “I protest against all the brutality and slaughter in the world.” Deeds and Smith tried to fight against and overcome the oppressive machines threatening freedom of an individual, Long John accepts the shackles put on him without a word of protest and remains in such ignorance for more than half of the story. When Smith first came to the Congress he did not know he served as a stooge in Taylor’s machine; John, however, is aware of the fact that he is an actor and that he is playing a role. Nevertheless, he does not mind being told what to do and how to do it even after he gets converted to believe in Doe’s ideology. The drama of John’s situation lays in the fact that in Capra’s purgatorial comedies “[i]ndividuals are all already inscribed in the system, speaking its discourse, heaped with history, relationships, and obligations.”95 On the other hand, the conversion that each of the purgatorial heroes has to undergo and their initial attempts to test newly acquired knowledge within the oppressive reality at some point leads them to face the uncertainty of their actions’ legitimacy and finally results in the protagonist’s identity crisis. Once more, John Doe’s case is the 94 95

Carney, American Vision, 301. Carney, American Vision, 348.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

149

darkest one. The lack of a strong personality of his own explains John's susceptibility to the confusion of his identity. The inevitability of this part of the maturation process strikes the viewer with double strength when he realizes how powerful the driving force standing behind the John Doe machine is. John’s confused identity is most conspicuous in a “crazy dream” he describes to Ann during his John Doe tour. The dream is a muddled story picturing Ann as a child running away from John impersonating her father and growing up in the course of her escape. Subsequently, the scene is changed into Ann's marriage ceremony with Ted Sheldon, D. B. Norton’s nephew. John’s role in this sequence is also changed from that of her father to the Justice of the Peace. Nevertheless, at the climactic moment both the figures; Ann’s father and the Justice of Peace are present, and John represents both of them: Here’s the funniest part of all. I was the fellow up there doing the marrying–you know, the justice of peace. [Anne: I thought you were chasing me.] Well, I was your father then. But the real me, John Doe, that is, Long John Willoughby, I was the fellow with the book, you know what I mean. Well. I took you across my knee and I started spanking you. That is, I didn’t do it. I mean, I did do it. But it wasn’t me. I was your father then.

It may be argued that John’s dream is one of the rare moments of his attempts of free expression of the self; however, what is more evident in the above quotation is the hero’s dramatic helplessness and inability to distinguish his identity any longer. What is more, the dream reflects John’s confusion on several levels simultaneously: social, emotional and psychological. Poague claims that the dream is, in fact, It Happened One Night in miniature and chooses to interpret it in terms of John’s moral and sexual maturation: It is comically immoral for Ellie to wed King Westley, and it is just as immoral for Ann to marry Ted Sheldon. John is both Ann’s father and the justice of peace in the dream, and hence he represents both sexual and moral authority.96

Therefore, Ann’s sexual choice is also a moral one which would signify her conversion and maturation. Like other Capra’s heroines, Ann must choose between sterility symbolised in the dream by a rich prospective husband, Sheldon, with his cynical rich man’s world and 96

Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 197.

150

Chapter Four

fertile morality professed by her dead father in a diary and absorbed by John now. If the dream and John’s rumination on it is to be treated as his attempt at a free expression of himself (and hence the subsequent phase of his maturation), there is one aspect which should be indicated in particular, namely the ideological consciousness acquired in the process. As I have already stated, the dream first and foremost depicts the portrait of John’s social, emotional, and psychological confusion; nevertheless, its subsequent part proves that he has achieved stability on an ideological level at least. The three figures of John Willoughby, John Doe, and Dr. Mitchell finally merge in John’s mind and he becomes the romantic knight armed with Ann’s father’s idealism: “The man you marry has got to swim rivers for you! He’s got to climb high mountains for you! He’s got to slay dragons for you! He’s got to perform wonderful deeds for you!” These exclamations are the same kind of romantic visualisation that most of Capra's chivalric characters deliver at some point. It is enough to recall Tony Kirby’s youthful plans to save energy from the grass, Peter Warne’s dream of an island in the Pacific, Deed’s depiction of his imaginary perfect girl in the idyllic Mandrake Falls, or Smith’s impressionist vision of the land of Willet Creek. Therefore, John’s use of such a verbal stylistic device brings John closer to Capra's other romantics. The dream indicates his sexual attraction to Ann but, what seems more vital, it reflects the alteration that has undergone within him. His ideological metamorphosis is underlined. The theme of John’s maturation is extended to the next scene. John and Ann are at an airport restaurant and John delivers another speech. The subject is entirely different than on the previous occasion; nevertheless, as in the earlier case, the intercourse leaves Ann almost speechless. John talks about people and his attitude towards them: I never thought as much about people before. They were always just somebody to fill up the bleachers. [...] Lately I been watching ‘em when I talk to ‘em. I could see something in their faces. I could feel they were hungry for something. [...] Maybe that’s why they came. Maybe they were just lonely and wanted somebody to say hello to. I know how they feel. I've been lonely and hungry for something nearly all my life.

The quotation serves as further evidence of the progression of John’s maturation’s progress. Capra makes the collapse of John’s ego explicit. He has ceased to think of people in terms of a mere faceless crowd. All of a sudden they became real humans: unique individuals with their dignity and their need for neighbourly love of the John Doe ideology. The

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

151

sequence, therefore, contributes to the first rung of John’s social maturation. John’s growing feeling of responsibility for the people he talks to during his tour was born and the sudden realization of his transformation makes Ann feel guilty and uneasy. John has turned into a genuine believer in her father’s ideals and what she has been paying him with so far were cunning tricks and indifference. There are, however, no words at the moment she can offer him during any of John’s revelations and hence Ann’s replies are limited to upset glances, pregnant pauses and monosyllables. Nevertheless, these nonverbal replies are the promise of Ann’s consequent maturation. In fact, she will be able to talk to John in the very next scene they are presented together. In the meantime, John decides to propose to Ann. The act of proposal in the Capra universe usually constitutes a most unconventional ceremony, a ritual of an individual’s creative self-expression. Tony Kirby proposes to Alice in between the jokey lines of the “report” of his parents’ reaction to his announcement that he is in love with his secretary; Peter Warne, in fact, never has a chance to pop the question since Ellie settles things in her own zany way; Longfellow Deeds chooses a poem to express what he does not have the courage to say out loud. Nevertheless, no matter how original the proposals of Capra heroes are, John Doe is the only one who does it via the mother of his beloved. The fact highlights his continuous lack of self-confidence and the sense of his inferiority in reference to John Doe who is “pretty tough competition”. John’s proposal is one more piece of evidence of how complicated and how sombre things have become in Meet John Doe. The scene is the first personal initiative of the protagonist; yet he finds himself unable to speak. Standing in front of Ann’s mother all he finds strength to do is to utter allusive pieces of information suggesting a clue as to the purpose of his visit. He lacks a script and at the moment, although he is a bit stronger than at the beginning of the story, it is still a purgatorial path he treads upon and he is still too weak and too confused to speak for himself and express his own feelings in such an important matter as marriage, which, additionally, is entirely a separate subject from the John Doe stunt. In the nearest sequences of the story, however, John’s attention is diverted from his love affair and the subsequent events evoke the necessity of the hero’s accelerated maturation. The John Doe national convention is about to start and several meaningful events coincide. While Ann participates in a private meeting of the political tycoons held in D. B. Norton’s mansion, Connell decides to inform Long John about the real motives of Norton’s support to the John Doe organization and hence about the factual role that John plays in the entire enterprise.

152

Chapter Four

Connell begins with words of praise for American democracy. The exposition he utters could be, in fact, spoken by a romantic patriot like Jefferson Smith, and for this reason Connell’s speech genuinely astonishes viewers with the discovery that the John Doe movement has also managed to convert a confirmed cynic like him who, in addition, has been involved in organizing the publicity stunt from its very onset. “Say, you’re sold on the John Doe idea, aren’t you?” he asks John, “I don’t blame you, so am I. It’s a beautiful miracle. A miracle that could only happen right here in the good old U.S.A.” His speech aims at enlightening John as to the gravity of the task he carries on his shoulders: I’m a sucker for the Star Spangled Banner, and I’m the sucker for this country. I like what we got here! I like it! A guy can say what he wants and do what he wants without a bayonet shoved through his belly. [...] And we don’t want anybody coming around changing it, do we? And when they do, I get mad! I get boiling mad! And right now, John, I’m sizzling! I get mad for a lot of other guys besides myself. I get mad for a guy named Washington! And a guy named Jefferson, and Lincoln. Lighthouses, John! Lighthouses in a foggy world! [...] Now, supposing a certain unmentionable worm, whose initials are D.B., was trying to use [the John Doe clubs] to shove his way into the White House. So he could put the screws on, so he could turn out the lights in those lighthouses. What would you say about that?

John refuses to believe Connell’s words until he sees the speech that he is supposed to read during the convention. Blind with the disillusionment with Ann of whom he was assured no one can make her write anything that would be against the John Doe ideology, he rushes angrily to Norton’s house in order to gain further confirmation of Connell’s accusations. He gets there in time to hear with his own ears Norton’s plans of creating “a new order of things”. The villain addresses the heads of the political world gathered together for the occasion of a scheduled creation of the John Doe party: “There’s been too much talk going on in this country. Too many concessions have been made! What the American people need is an iron hand! Discipline!” Subsequently, Norton proposes a toast to Ann Mitchell–“the brilliant and beautiful lady who is responsible for all this.” The entire encounter finally brings Ann to her senses and she wakes up to realize the peril of D. B. Norton’s fascist scheme. She listens to the political tycoons’ conversation first in anxious amazement, and next with a growing sense of panic, and her non-verbal reaction proves that, as she assures John a moment later, until now she has really “had no idea what was going on.” Poague points out it is indeed true–she had no idea

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

153

because she chose to ignore Norton’s real intentions. However, in a while, she will have to make her moral choice between her father’s idealism, now truly incorporated within John Doe whom Long John finally becomes, and D. B. Norton.97 Meanwhile, having learned the bitter truth, John resolves to stand up to the villain and refuses to act according to the script any longer, which he demonstrates by the act of tearing up the speech. Now that he is aware of all the dimensions of the stunt, like Smith before him, he is ready to fight for the cause and even die for it if needed. He declares he is going to announce the truth about Norton’s political plotting during a John Doe rally, but the villain immediately replies with a reproach that John is a fake, whereas he and the assembly of his political colleagues at least believe what they do, and he threatens to kill the John Doe movement “deader than a doornail” should he be unable to use it for his purpose. The violent intercourse continues and John delivers an emotional manifesto expressing his new populist credo, ending with an exclamation: “You go ahead and try it [killing the John Doe movement]! You couldn’t do it in a million years, with all your radio stations and all your power! Because it’s bigger than whether I’m a fake! It’s bigger than your ambitions!” A range of inspired emotions and her growing affection become transparent on Ann’s face during the verbal struggle between John and Norton and it is clear that she has finally made her choice. John’s daring confrontation with Norton confirms the hero’s metamorphosis into a romantic warrior. Thus, in the spirit of romantic tradition, he is determined to kill the evil figure98 jeopardizing the newly conceived harmonious integrity of the innocent creation as John Doe Clubs or sacrifice his life in the process. Along with the development of the plot, Capra provides the viewer with visual evidence of his protagonists’ transformation. Beginning with the scene of John’s half-proposal, throughout the confrontation with Norton and further on during the convention, all the events happen in the pouring rain. We hear John mentioning rain at Ann’s place; next, heavy rain seen from the window in Norton’s mansion accompanies John’s romantic manifesto; and finally, the entire convention sequence is blurred by rain coming down in torrents. Capra’s frequently used symbol of fertility performs its function in Meet John Doe as well. It is true that each of the above-mentioned occasions constitute John’s first awkward attempts to express himself as an independent individual and ultimately 97 98

See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 200. Lesley Brill’s concept of romance discussed in the second chapter.

154

Chapter Four

with rather poor effects. He never proposes to Ann, in fact, and even though he stands up to Norton in the villain’s mansion, he fails to oppose Norton’s machine during the convention, and thus he ends up being deprived of the chance to talk to people and convince them about the purity of his intentions. Nevertheless, Capra symbolism of rain accompanying the hero in his one-man fight provides a clear indication that John’s struggles, no matter how awkward, are not utterly futile. The rain, therefore, signifies John’s and Ann’s transformation (Ann realizes that she has finally fallen in love with the real Long John); moreover, it also brings a tiny sparkle of hope that, against the bleakness of the facts, the final score is not settled yet. The full maturation is still ahead for both John and Ann, for they will have to repent for their cunning stunt. For Ann, who is kept under arrest by D. B. Norton’s order throughout the whole convention and hence is unable to provide any kind of help to John, the course of the hero’s dramatic ordeal, which she witnesses over the radio, becomes the time of her profound remorse and reflection upon the shameful discrepancy between her father’s ideology and her own deeds. Ironically, Norton’s words accusing John of being a fake turn out to be true for Ann as well as, in the course of promoting Dr. Mitchell’s philosophy, she forgot to apply it within her own life. Therefore, now she will have to face the unexpectedly solemn consequences it brought upon them. John, on the other hand, has a bleak infernal experience lying ahead of him and he has to face it on his own. John rushes to the baseball field where the convention takes place99 like Smith, in the spirit of Don Quixote, ready to fight at windmills. He gets to the stage and, amidst the cheers of the fifteen thousand John Doe believers, he attempts to reveal the truth. The task is impeded by all sorts of difficulties: noise, rain, technological devices, and at last it is delayed by a priest’s suggestion to say a prayer before the event starts. Consequently, when John is finally about to start his revelation, it is just in time for D. B. Norton and his troops to interfere. The quickly paced sequences which follow recall James Taylor’s actions in Mr. Smith and prove that Norton’s machine is equally well organized and as effective. Thousands of newspapers accusing John Doe of being a fake are handed out to the convention’s participants, Norton’s troopers take care of raising a rebellious commotion among the people, and Norton himself is shouting 99

Carney points out to the irony of the fact that it is the only baseball field on which we see Long John during the story. Nevertheless, the familiarity of the place and its rules does not help him to win the audience during this “match.” See his American Vision, 372.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

155

out his allegations against John through the loudspeakers stating that John never had any intention to jump from the building. Subsequently, he skilfully manoeuvres John to admit that he never wrote the letter to the New Bulletin and, next, asserts they have all been taken for a ride by the man interested solely in gaining financial profit for himself. John’s attempts to explain the truth come to naught as Norton’s subordinates disconnect the sound system by means of cutting the wires. Soon the disappointed crowd becomes hysterical and John is removed from the stage in incredulity and despair. The convention initiates John’s infernal experience. It is the first time that the character is left all alone with no support and dependent utterly on his own strength. The critics are in agreement that the scene is one of the bleakest moments in all of Capra’s movies as the director methodically exposes the helplessness of John’s situation. The hero’s attempts to become an independent individual are doomed to failure practically from the beginning since, paradoxically, he now exists only as a part of the John Doe institution and he is no one outside of it. It seems the John Doe ideology is for other individuals to perform but it ceased to be the privilege of its titular leader long ago. At the moment all efforts to perform out of the script will be treated by people as treachery. Thus, in Meet John Doe, Capra once more points out the “displacement of the individual in an institutional universe.”100 John Doe has been produced and promoted by technology and the same force is used to destroy him. The recurrent subject of the character’s loss of voice returns. The viewer is offered a chance to witness John’s desperate struggle to speak to thousands and be heard by them. The film noir scenes that follow present the gloomy visions of the hero’s social crucifixion. Carney notices that “Capra’s close up on the wire cutting makes it almost as tangible and painful as if we were watching John’s vocal cords being cut before our eyes.”101 John is then deprived of his voice and the right to defend himself, which highlights the significant difference in narration of Meet John Doe. In Mr. Deeds it was Longfellow’s choice to remain silent throughout his sanity hearing and he was allowed to use his voice again at any moment he wanted. Similarly, Jefferson Smith had the power to use his voice as a weapon before and during his filibuster. John’s voice, however, as his entire media personality, no longer belongs to him and therefore can be extinguished by Norton’s technological devices as quickly as they were conceived. 100 101

Carney, American Vision, 372. Carney, American Vision, 374.

156

Chapter Four

McBride points out that one of the vital aspects of Meet John Doe is “showing that people can become mobs [...] when they become disillusioned.”102 The convention sequence provides plenty of examples proving the accuracy of this observation. All of a sudden, the John Doe “love thy neighbour” attitude loses its meaning and is replaced by aggression and hostility showing that Norton has successfully achieved his aim. Capra illustrates this fact by presenting the picture of a confused and despairing John with tears in his eyes as he bitterly acknowledges that only a small group of people standing next to him can actually hear him. He realizes his failure as even this small group refuses to listen to him anymore. The hero’s ritual humiliation is fulfilled by further acts of the angry mob as he is booed, sneered, and pelted with wet newspapers and all sorts of other missiles. The bitter irony of the convention’s final sequence is that John is deserted by everyone who so enthusiastically declared his commitment to the “love thy neighbour” philosophy just a while ago. There is, however, one person who sticks with him, the Colonel, a cynic who once professed that “the world’s been shaved by a drunken barber” and refused to have anything to do with the John Doe movement from its very start. Witnessing the scene of John’s humiliation, he makes his way through the crowd and helps him to leave. “The fact that only a cynic ‘loves his neighbour’ [...] throws a dark shadow over the whole film”,103 as Maland notes. John manages to leave the convention safely, but his infernal ordeal is by no means finished as the real inferno remains within him. The sounds of the conventioneers’ accusatory voices and the mirage of their disappointed faces stuck in John's memory linger on and the hero broods upon them unceasingly. Meanwhile, Capra provides us with evidence of Norton’s final steps towards killing off the John Doe Clubs. The newspaper collage present a series of headlines informing that John Doe has been proved a fake and the clubs are being disbanded across the country. A scrap of John’s picture floating down the gutters symbolically signifies the end of the John Doe movement. It is at Christmas Eve, the night John Doe was supposed to jump off the roof, that the viewers witness Long John heading towards the City Hall as if in trance. The recent events instigate the idea that the only possible way to prove his sincerity and to make John Doe Clubs start all over again is to commit suicide the way he was supposed to. John has ultimately reached the culmination of his romantic metamorphosis and at 102 103

McBride, Frank Capra, 433. Maland, Frank Capra, 111.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

157

this point he is ready to fulfil his Smithian desire to victimise himself for the righteous cause. Therefore, as in the case of Joseph Paine, John’s mere will to commit a sterile deed like suicide is the most tangible proof of his fertile transformation. The scene’s potential fertility is intensified by nature. It is one of the rare occasions when we see Long John outdoors, and it is for the first time (excluding a short moment of Ann chasing the taxi after John’s confrontation with Norton) that the hero and the heroine are presented outdoors together. Until now all interactions between Ann and John have happened inside offices, penthouses, hotel rooms, or D. B. Norton’s chambers. The only scenes showing John in natural surroundings were those shared with the cynical-but-nature-loving Colonel. Thus, Ann’s appearance on the City Hall roof makes a significant difference. Ann delivers an emotional speech in an attempt to persuade John not to jump and arguing they are still able to resurrect the John Doe movement and build it on honesty this time. Heavy snow is falling around the heroes as well as the sound of bells chiming to commemorate the birth of Christ, the first John Doe, together with Ann's fervent plea suggest the characters’ breaking up with institutional shackles and passing to the fertile side. Within her desperate appeal, Ann refers to four ethical pillars: family, Christianity, populism and resistance.104 She professes her love for John openly (something she was unable to do before her final maturation) and even declares her will to die with him, should his intentions remain unaltered. As in John’s first radio broadcast, she refers to the spirit of Christmas and points out that there is no necessity for him to die, since someone has already died for this cause two thousand years before. Hence, all they need to do now is to make sure that the villains of the world are always fought against. Ann faints from fever and exhaustion, but by this moment the others are present to witness the scene: Norton and his associates, who have been present there all along, and the Millville originators of the first John Doe club join in the middle of Ann’s speech. Thus, two opposing archetypal powers of good and evil confront each other at the climactic scene of Meet John Doe. Ann’s address, and the subsequent arguments of the Millville club members stating that it would be a lot easier to start the John Doe ideas again with John, achieve a positive result in the end as John realizes that he has a chance to accomplish more by staying alive than by dying. So, with Ann in his arms and accompanied by Colonel, Connell and his loyal Millville John Does, he heads towards the exit. Ann’s speech and John’s final decision to 104

See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 203.

158

Chapter Four

abandon his suicidal intention are the signs of both characters’ maturation. They are now aware of the multidimensionality of reality and their mistakes within it. They are also ready to undertake the task with all the responsibility it requires. D.B. Norton and his “fine-feathered friends”, on the other hand, are left behind in literal darkness. The villain, as James Taylor in Mr. Smith, remains unmoved and does not become transformed till the event of the very end. It is questionable whether the conclusion of Meet John Doe can be called the hero’s ritual victory. We can talk rather about a purgatorial type of komos-like ending which, as I have indicated at the beginning of this chapter, is quite distinct from the paradisal understanding of the term. Ann does not regain her consciousness before the end of the rooftop finale and, thus, as Smith in the final minute of his battle, she is unaware of the ultimate outcome of her dramatic plea. Nevertheless, the heroine in the arms of her beloved knight is a picture strongly reminiscent of the fairy tale ending of Snow White, where the romantic hero is about to wake his princess with a kiss. Longfellow Deeds finds the motivation to fight and win in Babe Bennett’s confession of love; for Jefferson Smith, Clarissa’s profession of love written on a scrap of paper and put into the copy of the U. S. Constitution rejuvenates his strength and will to fight during his filibuster. Similarly, the power of Ann’s love offered freely was strong enough to persuade John not to jump, while it was John’s romantic conversion that formerly liberated Ann from cynicism and sterility. Therefore, Capra relationships are built on complementarity and are able to develop positively because of the characters’ mutual transformation and maturation. As Charles Wolfe notices, the mere arrival of the Millville club would not provide sufficient motivation to give up his suicidal idea.105 Hence, what Capra once more highlights in Meet John Doe is the healing power of love. The ending of Meet John Doe turned out to be a problematic case and a great directorial challenge. As a matter of fact, Capra himself lacked the idea of how to end the story convincingly and therefore he tried five different conclusions. The one chosen finally as the official version was suggested to the director by a fan, in a letter.106 Over two decades later Capra reminisces in his autobiography: The last ending was the best of the sorry lot, but still it was a letdown. Was 105

See Charles Wolfe, “Meet John Doe: Authors, Audiences, And Endings,” in Meet John Doe: Frank Capra, Director, (ed.) Charles Wolfe (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1989), 19. 106 See Capra, The Name Above The Title, 305.

From Innocence to Experience: Experience

159

an acceptable ending ever possible for John Doe? I still don’t know. [...] We had shown the rise of two powerful, opposing movements–one good, one evil. They clashed head on–and destroyed each other! St. George fought with the dragon, slew it, and was slain. What our film said to bewildered people hungry for solutions was this, ‘No answers this time, ladies and gentlemen’.107

Indeed, the miraculous ending of the You Can’t Take It With You kind is not provided in Meet John Doe and, as Poague claims, the biggest miracle Capra could achieve was to stop John from committing suicide.108 Carney suggests a gloomier interpretation of John’s situation at the end of the movie. He points out that [e]very possible ending to Doe represents a form of suicide for John. [...] Even [the act of physical] suicide is superfluous or redundant insofar as ‘John Doe’ has never lived, and ‘Long John’ Willoughby has already committed suicide by an act of self-erasure long before.109

However, the fact that, much as in Mr. Smith, at the end of John Doe the problem remains to a large extent unresolved and the result of John’s and Ann’s mission uncertain, Carney’s thesis seems nonetheless to be overly pessimistic. John’s transition into a romantic impersonator of Dr. Mitchell’s populist idealism proves that Long John must have been a quest hero with a concealed arete,110 and his romantic potential was waiting to be awoken all along. John's withdrawal from the City Hall’s roof symbolises the hero’s exodus from an infernal realm, the dark power of which deluded him into believing that sacrificing his life in the act of his physical suicide is the only way to instigate the rebirth of the John Doe movement. Nevertheless, even the ultimate uncertainty about future success does not signify a looming disaster. Moreover, in the light of the thesis that John is a purgatorial character, the fact of the finale’s uncertain result ceases to be surprising. By definition, as it was already recalled, the purgatorial character at the conclusion of the story is usually on the verge of achieving its purpose. Furthermore, the presence of the Millville club on the City Hall’s roof prophesies–at least to some extent–a future resurrection of the John Doe movement rather than John’s suicide in Carney’s aforementioned understanding of the term. Numerous suggestions of interpreting Capra’s populist heroes: 107

See Capra, The Name Above The Title, 305. See Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 190. 109 Carney, American Vision, 375. 110 W. H. Audens concept of the quest hero’s arete was discussed in Chapter Three. 108

160

Chapter Four

Longfellow Deeds, Jefferson Smith and John Doe as Christ figures are to be found in critical literature, and the vivid polemics about the legitimacy of the approach has taken place among the scholars. However, it is hard to deny Capra’s Christianity-related parallels in the plot formula of the three movies. As a matter of fact, the motif of the main hero’s crucifixion is mentioned explicitly in each of the three films. Therefore, despite the protagonist’s eleventh hour victory, it seems plausible to read them in terms of Christian symbolism. As Dwight Macdonald observes, “there is something very American in the idea of an uncrucified Christ.”111 Deeds, Smith, and Doe are the romantic missionaries bringing the populist idealism into a sterile reality. They are the chosen ones aiming at deconstructing the cynical status quo of fossilized human relations. In his social comedies Capra explores the subject of “little men”. Deeds, Smith, and Doe, as Schickel puts it, “became archetypes which reflected back to us our best qualities–common sense, down-toearthiness, idealism, patriotism, fidelity to family values.”112 Nevertheless, apart from these common-man features, the purgatorial experience of the romantic quest equipped them with heroic strength and mature awareness of complex responsibilities that the undertaken tasks entail. The trilogy presents the main protagonists’ movement “from innocence to experience and from victimisation to victory, as if the films were enactments of ritualistic pilgrim’s progress.”113 However, contrary to Capra’s paradisal heroes, the final glory of Deeds, Smith, and Doe is of a purgatorial sort and hence darkened by the shadow of preceding experience.

111

Dwight Macdonald quoted in Handzo, “Under Capracorn,” 172. Schickel, The Men Who Made The Movies, 57. 113 Carney, American Vision, 281. 112

CHAPTER FIVE INNOCENCE AND EXPERIENCE: IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE

Paradise, Purgatory, Inferno: Spatial and axiological organisation of It's a Wonderful Life romantic reality In two previous chapters I have discussed Murphy's Dantean division of the comic reality and how the films of Frank Capra can be interpreted in the light of this concept. For the sake of my book I have decided to narrow down the three levels enumerated by the scholar to the two categories of “innocence” and “experience”, and I have discussed three movies chosen to represent each category respectively, more in line with Frye's concept of the romantic narrative mode. This chapter will be devoted to It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), the film which is considered by many critics to be Capra’s most important cinematic achievement. The film constitutes a particularly interesting case for reasons of its multilevel structure and the complexity of its main character. Thus, in this chapter, I will adapt Dante's original division of the comedic world into three levels and indicate that paradise, purgatory and inferno can be found in It’s a Wonderful Life both on a spacial and axiological level.1 As in the previous chapters, my primary aim is to prove the romantic nature of the movie. The analysis of each level of the film will allow us to witness the subsequent stages of the protagonist’s journey from innocence to experience and eventually, his passage from the depth of experience to the hero’s ultimate rebirth. The complete life cycle, as it is presented in the 1

Among the critical literature concerning Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life a number of references to Dante's Divine Comedy are to be found. See, e.g. D. J. M. Saunders, “Capra's Corn?,” Bright Light Film Journal, No. 46 (November 2004). Online on January 16, 2013 at: http://brightlightsfilm.com/46/46capra.php; Barbara Bowman, Film Images Of Capra, Lubitsch, Sternberg, And Wyler (New York: Greenwood Press, 1992), 20-29.

162

Chapter Five

film, constitutes a proof to the thesis that It’s a Wonderful Life is a romance since, as I have already mentioned, according to Northrop Frye, unlike in the case of the mode of tragedy, romance is based on the second half of the mythic cycle, and moves from “death to rebirth, decadence to renewal, winter to spring, darkness to a new dawn.”2 My analysis of It’s a Wonderful Life aims at presenting and examining the spectrum of romantic reality as created by Capra. Before I begin my analysis, let us review the general background of the movie. It’s a Wonderful Life is based on an idea drawn from a short story, The Greatest Gift, initially distributed as a Christmas card by its author Philip Van Doren Stern. The plot of the film revolves around the small town hero, George Bailey (James Stewart), who spends his life dreaming about big deeds and great travels and adventures, but his sense of duty towards his family, friends and community forces him to give up his dreams and remain in the “crummy little town” he hates. As the plot unfolds, on the brink of suicide, Bailey is given a chance to see what the world would have been like had he never been born. Capra recalls: It was the story I had been looking for all my life! Small town. A man. A good man, ambitious. But so busy helping others, life seems to pass him by. Despondent. He wishes he’d never been born. He gets his wish. Through the eyes of a guardian angel he sees the world as it would have been had he never been born. Wow! What an idea.3

Despite the gravity of the subject and the rather dark mood presiding throughout most of the story, ultimately the film delivers an optimistic and hopeful message that “each man’s life touches so many other lives [a]nd that if he isn’t around it would leave an awful hole.”4 Nevertheless, for more than half of the film Capra pictures George Bailey’s life and his struggles within a small town of Bedford Falls often in a gloomy and noirlike fashion, which probably became the reason why the audience, tired with the recent war experience, did not respond to the movie as enthusiastically as Capra had hoped for. The movie received five Oscar nominations but failed to win any of them, and it had eventually sunk to oblivion before it was finally rediscovered by television three decades later. Presently it is certainly hard to imagine a Christmas season without It’s a Wonderful Life, and the classic never ceases to top the lists of 2

Frye, A Natural Perspective, 121. The subject of romantic mode was discussed in detail in the second chapter of this book. 3 Capra, The Name Above The Title, 376. 4 Capra, The Name Above The Title, 383.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

163

Hollywood most beloved films.5

Bedford Falls and Beyond: The Paradisal and Purgatorial Level The world presented in It’s a Wonderful Life is a multi-level one. The film’s spacial division is indicated clearly in the first scene in which the picture of Bedford Falls, is quickly followed by the insight into the level of paradise.6 It is a snowy Christmas evening and through the voices of people praying to God for George Bailey we learn that the main character is in trouble. The opening exposes typical features of an American small town: its tree-lined streets and local houses and buildings. Next, the camera slides upward and the viewer is offered the vision of a starry firmament. We hear heavenly voices speaking and the stars sparkle one by one whenever the voice is heard. The discussion concerns George and in the celestial intercourse that follows we are informed about the resolution to provide help for the benefit of the hero. Clarence Odbody (Henry Travers), a “second class” angel who has not yet earned his wings, is to be sent down to earth in order to prevent George’s suicide attempt. Before the mission begins, Clarence and the audience are provided with a retrospection of the most significant facts and events from George’s life. Thus, we are transferred from the paradisal realm to purgatorial level of Bedford Falls, at which we will now have a detailed look.7 The retrospective sequence is constructed in cinematic fashion and it presents a selection of scenes from George’s childhood as well as his adult life, even freezing the frame when an additional commentary is necessary for Clarence to gain a better understanding of the whole story.8 It has been claimed by critics and reviewers on several occasions that, contrary to the film’s title, in some ways George Bailey’s life was not 5

In 2006 American Film Institute recognized It’s A Wonderful Life as number one on the Cheers list (America’s Most Inspiring Movies), and on a 2008 Top 10 list it occupies the third place in the genre of Fantasy. 6 The subject of the divison of the world presented in It's A Wonderful Life into three Dantean levels has been previously discussed by Barbara Bowman in her Film Images Of Capra, Lubitsch, Sternberg, And Wyler, 20-29. 7 James Walters claims there are two spatial levels in It's a Wonderful Life: the human world of Bedford Falls and cosmic heavenly level as it is introduced at the beginning of the movie. See his Alternative Worlds In Hollywood Cinema: Resonance Between Realms (Chicago: Intellect, 2008), 115-118. 8 Robert Ray argues that by means of introducing a frozen frame into the body of the film, Capra intentionally departed from the formal paradigms of traditional invisibility of cinematic aparatus in the movie. See his A Certain Tendency Of The Hollywood Cinema, 1930-1980 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), 204.

164

Chapter Five

wonderful at all. According to James Agee's of the 1947 review, it is a story about “a local boy who stays local, doesn’t make good, and becomes at length so unhappy that he wishes he had never been born.”9 The facts seem to confirm the above assumption. As a boy George rescues his younger brother from drowning; a heroic deed that costs him the loss of hearing in his left ear. The same year he saves the druggist from certain disaster by means of not delivering poisoned pills to a child, for which, before he has a chance to explain the matter, he gets slapped in the face. George dreams about exotic travels, building bridges and skyscrapers; about getting out into the world and getting to know things. But none of these ever happen. George’s long-awaited journey to Europe is cancelled as his father (Samuel S. Hinds) dies of a stroke the night before he was to set off. As the story unfolds further disappointments mount. George does not go to college. His sense of duty and loyalty to his deceased father makes him stay and run the Bailey Building and Loan, the financial organization helping people to improve their living conditions by means of providing them with the possibility to own a house. The institution is threatened by a local robber baron, Henry F. Potter (Lionel Barrymore), who urges its dissolution on an account of it being unprofitable and detrimental, since it supports the “discontented lazy rabble,” as he calls the people of Bedford Falls. George sends his brother Harry (Todd Karns) to college and waits another four years for his own turn until the latter returns and takes over the family business. However, when Harry finally does come to Bedford Falls, it is with a young wife by his side and a promise of a lucrative job in Buffalo offered to him by his father-in-law. Having realized that his last chance to leave is lost, George throws away the travel brochures he constantly carries with him and by this symbolic act he bitterly parts with his dream. Soon afterward George marries the local girl Mary Hatch (Donna Reed) with whom he has been in love with for a long time but never admitted it even to himself for fear of being tied down forever. Nevertheless, it is still not the end of George’s miseries. The scheduled honeymoon journey of the newly-wed couple is interrupted on their way to the train station by the news of the Great Depression and a run on the Building and Loan. George and Mary devote their honeymoon money to save the business and to prevent Mr. Potter from taking control of the whole town. Thus, the Baileys never leave Bedford Falls and end up 9

James Agee, “It’s A Wonderful Life,” in Frank Capra: The Man And His Films, (ed.) Glatzer and Raeburn, (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975), 157.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

165

spending their wedding night in an old dilapidated house about which George once said he “wouldn’t live in it as a ghost”, and which, ironically, would eventually become a home for him, Mary and their four children. In the end, George remains in his hometown and his life revolves around the Building and Loan while constantly struggling against Potter’s greedy ambitions. Condemned to watch his brother and friends attaining all that the world has to offer-education, adventures, career, experience, and honours-his frustrations over the lost opportunities accumulate. Because of his bad ear George even misses the opportunity to leave Bedford Falls when the war breaks out. Instead he remains in his home town and engages in any possible local form of supporting the army. Meanwhile, on Christmas Eve 1945, the day that is to become a crucial one in George’s life, Harry Bailey, previously announced as a war hero, is to be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honour. Overjoyed at the news, George’s absentminded uncle Billy (Thomas Mitchell), his Building and Loan associate, misplaces the company’s eight thousand dollars he was to deposit in a bank that day. Accidentally, the money falls into the hands of Potter, who literally grabs the chance of destroying George as the only obstacle separating him from gaining absolute power in town. Desperate and in a state of a nervous breakdown, George abuses his family and leaves the house without any explanation as to the reason for his furious behaviour. When he turns for help to Potter the latter accuses him of being a miserable fraud and states that, with the equity of his five hundred dollars life insurance, George is worth more dead than alive. George proceeds to the bar where he prays for a solution. Almost at once he’s punched by the husband of his daughter’s teacher, whom he had earlier offended over the phone. Subsequently, he gets into the car and, in consequence of a drunken ride, hits a tree. Finally, George gets to the bridge and looking down into the depths of the river he contemplates throwing away "God’s greatest gift" and taking his own life. George Bailey’s world is a gloomy, purgatorial reality of constant disappointments and relinquishments. He is always stopped on the verge of achieving his aims and never succeeds in realizing his ambitions and desires, which reach far beyond the social and economic boundaries of Bedford Falls. Throughout his life George is constantly obliged to make moral choices and his ultimate decisions always display his commitment to the common good of the society he lives in. In consequence, the hero is forced to repress his ego and resign from his own aspirations for the benefit of others. Despite the fact that, thanks to his altruism, George has become the pillar of Bedford Falls’ society, the succeeding resignations from his dreams lead him to a mistaken conviction that his life is a

166

Chapter Five

failure.10 At first glance, the retrospective story presented in the movie seems to confirm Robert Ray’s assumption that It’s a Wonderful Life is a film about possessing all that the American Dream promises (a job, a house, a wife, children, and friends) and still being unhappy.11 Nevertheless, a more profound examination of the film makes it clear that Capra’s ultimate message is quite the opposite, as the director points out that in spite of difficult experiences that may befall us, “no one is a failure who has friends.” However, George is too preoccupied with mourning for the lost opportunities, which the world outside Bedford Falls had always promised and seduced him with, to discover and accept the truth of the above statement. Disappointment, fear of a monotonous and meaningless life and the sense of being an utter failure poison George’s mind, cloud his perception, and succeed in trapping him in an axiological purgatory which he will be able to overcome only after he experiences the underworld infernal reality. Charles Maland states that no other Capra hero “was as deeply divided internally as George Bailey.”12 He is torn between the sense of moral responsibility for his family, friends, and community and the overwhelming and ever-present desire for travel, adventures, and success. George’s problems seem to be rooted in three basic oppositions, which according to Ray are seminal to American culture and in particular to the American post-war mood: “adventure/domesticity, individual/community, and worldly success/ordinary life.”13 George pronounces his desires lucidly already in the childhood scenes. He enters the drugstore with the words: “Wish I had a million dollars” (the habit that will remain until his adult life) and shows Mary the new copy of The National Geographic magazine announcing proudly that he is going to be an explorer some day. Next, in the first scene presenting George as a young adult, the viewer watches his preparations to leave Bedford Falls for a trip to Europe and for college. He is choosing a suitcase and his demands: “I don’t want one for one night. I want something for thousand and one nights,” indicate that his childhood dreams have never ceased to exist nor even to be diminished. The same day he tells his father: “I couldn’t face being cooped up for the 10 Charles Maland claims that George's sense of entrapment results from two sorts of conflicts present in his life: external–between George and his Bedford Falls adversary, Mr. Potter, and internal–between the sense of moral responsibility and his own desires. See his Frank Capra, 140-141. 11 Ray, A Certain Tendency Of The Hollywood Cinema, 192. 12 Maland, Frank Capra, 140. 13 Ray, A Certain Tendency Of The Hollywood Cinema, 183.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

167

rest of my life in a shabby little office. [...] I want to do something big and something important.” Later that day, after Harry’s graduation party, he enthusiastically recites to Mary: I know what I’m going to do tomorrow and the next day and the next year and the year after that. I’m shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I’m going to see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Coliseum. Then I’m coming back here and go to college and see what they know... and then I’m going to build things. I’m gonna build air fields. I’m gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high. I’m gonna build bridges a mile long.

However, it turns out to be one of the last times that George’s imaginative desires are expressed verbally. As the subsequent impediments to the realization of his dreams arise, his initial hopeful enthusiasm gradually fades away and the pain resulting from the bitter feeling of unfulfillment and resignation is revealed only by disappointed stares, blank glances into the distance, and occasional shivers at the sound of a train whistle. The motif of sinking into silence or temporary inability to articulate ones desires is a recurring motif of Capra’s films, as discussed in the previous chapter. Capra’s heroes usually retreat into silence in reaction to an oppressive reality and such a state signifies the characters’ profound despair and alienation. On the other hand, “a condition of American alienation”,14 Carney argues, is a state deeply rooted in American culture and tradition, and it constitutes a mode of freedom which allows the hero for imaginative creativity and to remain an individualist: “a last-ditch strategy of self-preservation”.15 George’s silence and alienation is much more dangerous than in the case of Capra’s earlier characters like Mr. Deeds, Mr. Smith, or John Doe. Retreat into silence was for Deeds, Smith, and Doe the last act of protest against their own helplessness and futility of their struggles; but even in the state of deepest despair they were all convinced about the righteousness of their causes. George Bailey, however, is unceasingly torn between the sense of moral duty and his own dreams and longings. He accepts his fate silently as he knows his choices are for the benefit of others; nevertheless, he hates his role and his frustrations over staying in his home town, dealing with the “small” affairs of everyday life and the constant suppression of his desires accumulates and eventually bursts out. 14

Carney, American Vision, 420. Carney, American Vision, 294. The problem was earlier mentioned in the previous chapter in the case of Longfellow Deeds. 15

168

Chapter Five

Ray discerns the source of George’s problems in “the latent American preference for values, lifestyles, and attitudes that [have] no place in ordinary life.”16 Nevertheless, the question that arises is if George Bailey’s life is really ordinary? And furthermore, is it correct to call George a common ordinary man? Such a view is oversimplified and, ironically, the one that George himself wrongly assumes to be right before Clarence’s divine intervention. The initial version of the script contains George’s following statement: “I was a 4-F. In my case it didn’t stand for Four Freedoms, it meant Four Failures. Failure as a husband, father, business[man]–failure as a human being.”17 This declaration eventually does not appear in the film, but still, George’s strong conviction of the truth of the above statement is implicit. Although George’s presumption is obviously untrue. Nevertheless, some of the critics appear to have been deceived as well and in their articles we find statements like: George is in fact “the most ‘common’ of all, without the eccentricities of Deeds, Grandpa Vanderhof, Smith, or even Doe,”18 or “Bailey [is] a Deeds who never got rich, a Smith who never got appointed to the Senate, a Doe who remained obscure–who just got old.”19 A direct contradiction to these opinions can be found in American Vision, in which Carney perceives George Bailey as a hybrid of Capra’s earlier characters and states: George is one of the supreme creations of American film: both the greatest and most idealistic dreamer in Capra’s entire gallery of American dreamers and the figure in his work most unremittingly embedded in the structures of society and social discourse, most hedged round with responsibilities. He brings together in one performance all of the different manifestations from the earlier films of the ability of the imagination to avoid or break free of entrapping systems that would limit its free movements.20

Throughout the film Capra presents George Bailey as an exceptional man who sacrifices his own dreams and financial resources for the sake of helping his neighbours. Thus, the story of his life is not the story of staying behind and being a failure but about the heroism of staying in Bedford Falls and helping people to have a better life. As it is said at some point of the movie, all of his life George “fought the battle of Bedford Falls”. And this local “battle field” turns out to be extremely demanding, strenuous, and harsh. 16

Ray, A Certain Tendency Of The Hollywood Cinema, 186. McBride, Frank Capra, 519. 18 Willson, “Capra’s Comic Sense,” 96. 19 Handzo, “Under Capracorn,” 173. 20 Carney, American Vision, 389. 17

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

169

As in many of Capra’s movies–albeit only for part of the film–the motif of a missing or deceased father is also present in It’s a Wonderful Life, with Peter Bailey performing a similar function to other fatherfigures in the earlier films. As Smith, Sr. and Dr. Mitchell before, he is a transmitter of romantic idealism and a philanthropic philosophy. George understood the nobleness of his father’s ideology even as a young boy and from the very beginning was ready to defend it against all the odds. Such an uncompromising attitude is displayed on several occasions in the film. First, in the 1919 scene of Peter Bailey’s confrontation with Mr. Potter in the Building and Loan office, where young George comes to ask his father for advice. George witnesses the interchange of opinions concerning the dilemma of people who cannot afford to pay their mortgages. As one (and probably the darkest) of Capra’s examples of bad capitalists,21 Potter expresses his indifference and contempt for financial losers and calls Peter Bailey a miserable failure if he allows himself to worry about such losers. George finds it unjust and deeply offensive and reacts to it with an exclamation: “He’s not a failure! You can’t say that about my father!,” and to his father: “You’re the biggest man in town!” The next sequences of the film provide us with more evidence of George’s faith in his father’s ideals and respect for them. In the last conversation with his son, in answer to George’s declaration of his urge to do something big and important in his life, Peter Bailey pronounces his credo: I feel in a small way we are doing something important. Satisfying the fundamental urge. It’s deep in the race for a man to want his own roof and walls and fireplace, and we’re helping him get those things in our shabby little office.

These words of his father have a great impact on George, which is proved in the scenes succeeding Peter Bailey’s sudden death. George’s journey to Europe is cancelled, as he has to remain in Bedford Falls in order to take care of the formalities and on the day of his planned departure for college he addresses Potter at the very same Building and Loan office that he had scolded the mogul back in his childhood. Potter, as usual, demands dissolving the institution on account of its being useless and unprofitable and even socially harmful as it fills people’s heads with “impossible 21

It’s A Wonderful Life, as many of Capra’s other movies, stresses the opposition of a good capitalist (George Bailey) vs. bad capitalist (Mr. Potter). The Baileys Building and Loan was preoccupied with helping people, while Mr. Potter was interested solely in his own financial profit.

170

Chapter Five

ideas”. George’s answer is equally emotional as in his childhood defence of his father and, basically, the scene seems to be the extension of the one commenced in 1919. With the picture of Peter Bailey placed directly behind him, highlighting the continuum of his father’s ideology, George expresses his point of view: Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you’re talking about... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to help them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn’t think so. People were human beings to him, but to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they’re cattle. Well, in my book [my father] died a much richer man than you’ll ever be!

The above speech brings to mind similar romantic performances of Capra’s other populist heroes like Deeds, Smith, Doe, and especially Tom Dixon (Walter Huston), the protagonist of American Madness (1932), a banker who granted bank loans on base of his appraisal of personality and character of a person. As an heir to his father’s romantic idealism and understanding of basic human needs, George succeeds in convincing the Building and Loan board to keep the institution functioning.22 However, this victory costs George the loss of another dream. To fulfil the board’s condition, he has to stay in Bedford Falls and take over his father’s duties as executive secretary of the company. George accepts the post with horror and despair, as the realization that he is about to lose his last chance for a college education hits him hard and overwhelms him. Capra makes the viewer experience the sense of George’s inner drama almost tangibly by means of depicting George’s terrified facial expression in a close up and illustrated with a dramatic musical score. This shot nonverbally expresses 22 In her article Barbara Dafoe Whitehead highlights the importance of thrift and home-building institutions like the Bailey Building and Loan in post-war America and the impact they had on restoring and maintaining American small towns' prosperity. She notes: “Everyone understood that thrift was socially constructive, for through the accumulation of individual savings everyone benefited from rising prosperity, better education and hope for a brighter future. What war bonds had been for national security, thrift and home-building institutions were for family security. The social capital created through thrift institutions limited social polarization and marginalized the depredations of greed, so the real small towns of America never decayed into Pottervilles.” See her "A Nation In Debt," The American Interest, vol. 3, No. 6 (July-August 2008). Online on January 16, 2013 at: http://www.the-american-interest.com/article.cfm?piece=458.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

171

the profoundness of the hero’s dilemma. As usual, George parts with his dream for the sake of higher good; however, the remorse over another lost opportunity evokes his doubts as to the propriety of his moral choices and resolutions. To make matters worse, the above events are not the end of George’s torments as, in the end, George never leaves Bedford Falls and the Building and Loan. Even the chance of leaving the town temporarily for a honey moon trip eventually comes to naught by the social hysteria of the Great Depression and a run on a local bank as well as the Bailey’s institution. George and Mary are stopped on their way to the train station by the sight of the crowds of people storming the gate of the Building and Loan.23 In a desperate attempt to save the Building and Loan from being taken over (like almost everything else in town) by Potter, George and Mary sacrifice their own honeymoon money and eventually have to cancel their plans. Once again, George lives up to the demands of the moral values seeded within him by his father. George does not forget about this idealistic heritage even for a moment and, even at a critical juncture like this, he examines the portrait of his father as if in search for advice, some clue or confirmation. By now, Peter Bailey’s portrait, a reminder of the essence and value of the Building and Loan cause, is complemented by the inscription “All you can take with you is that which you’ve given away” added beneath. The motif of a deceased father and living up to his romantic populist ideals frequently recurs in many Capra's movies. Jefferson Smith and Ann Mitchell both build their lives on base of their fathers’ ideology. Even Babe Bennett and Clarissa Saunders at some point of their transformation recall the ideals their fathers cherished and lived by, and the heroines allow these memories to influence their future actions. The shadow of Peter Bailey is similarly ever present in each decision of George. The memory of his father’s commitment to each case being dealt with by the Building and Loan, together with the inscription from beneath the picture, which not by coincidence happens to be the precise reflection of Grandpa Vanderhof’s philosophy of life, never cease to be a driving force of George’s decisions. Thus, George manages to save the Building and Loan from Potter; however, once again he has to pay for it with another of his plans. In the end, the newlyweds remain in Bedford Falls and spend their wedding night in the old run-down Granville House which, while George 23

Capra dealt in detail with the subject of The Great Depression in American Madness. The shots presenting the crowds of angry people storming bank entrances have become an often recurring symbol of social problems of the late 1920s and early 1930s.

172

Chapter Five

is struggling against the run on the Building and Loan, Mary transforms into a substitute of their bridal suite. In spite of the fact that George’s sacrifices and efforts result in creating Bailey Park, Bedford Falls’ residential area built solely thanks to endeavours of the Building and Loan, George is still haunted by remorse over his unfulfilled desires. The daunting feeling of being a failure as well as his conviction that his life consists of a chain of perpetual purgatorial ill-luck build up over the years and are intensified by pictures of George’s Bedford Falls friends’ and companions’ accomplishments in the fields of education and professional careers. However, George is too pure a character to be unhappy about others’ achievements. He delights in each piece of news reporting Harry’s success in college and later in the army during the war. He is also proud of his schoolfriend, Sam Wainwright, who had left Bedford Falls right after high school and succeeded in making a fortune and a great career in business. Nevertheless, the contrast between his own life and the lifestyle of his more (in George’s opinion) successful friends turn his youthful hopefulness and liveliness into bitterness and disappointment. The case is particularly conspicuous in the scene presenting George and his wife hosting a house-warming celebration in front of a new Martinis’ house built in Bailey Park. George and Mary greet the happy owners of the house at the threshold with traditional bread, salt, and wine௅the signs of prosperity and life flavour. The short ceremony constitutes an important social ritual and manifests George’s profound humanity and social devotion. The scene serves as a proof that George’s sacrifices were not in vain, and shows clearly that to the families rescued from Potter’s “slums” and degrading conditions, George’s painful decisions in the past were of priceless value. The Bailey Park sequence also proves that, against his own lack of appreciation for his accomplishments, George is not a common man at all. Among the citizens of Bedford Falls he is respected and admired, and without quite realizing it, he has taken over his father’s status of the local benefactor and, as such, is “the biggest man in town”. However, George's perception is blinded by the unfulfilled desires of his imagination and at this point in the story he is not ready to appreciate the meaning of his daily choices and struggles. The inner conflict of George is depicted by means of his nervous reaction to Sam’s presence at the Martini’s house warming celebration. Sam stops at Bailey Park on his way to Florida, arriving in a luxurious black limousine with a chauffeur and his wife beside him. He is the epitome of a successful businessman and, together with his wife, an attractive and stylish lady dripping with furs and jewels, draws a sharp

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

173

contrast to George and Mary and their standard of life. As Carney points out, Sam “is a millionaire world-traveller and industrialist who lives the dreams of travel, glamour, romance, and wealth about which George only reads and dreams.”24 The company parts after a while and George stands gazing after the vanishing vehicle longingly. Subsequently, he and Mary get back to their own old shabby car. George studies it with a desperate look before he closes its door with an angry kick, and the gloomy purgatorial mood intensifies almost physically in spite of the fact that not a word is spoken out loud. First and foremost, George’s special place in Bedford Falls’ community and his uncommonness become conspicuous when we examine his relations with Mr. Potter and his unique abilities to rescue Bedford Falls from becoming a soulless place built on cruel economic rules and human misery under Potter’s dictatorship. George is the only person in town who, in the manner of a Don Quixote, dares to oppose Potter. As Leland Poague notices: “George is moral, in the same way his father is moral, and he never lets his desires get in the way of his morality.”25 In the scene succeeding Martini’s ceremony, he even finds strength to resist the temptation of improving his financial status when Potter offers to buy him off for the salary of $20,000 a year. Having in mind his father’s philanthropic ideology, he gets back to his toil at the Building and Loan, which in truth he detests almost as much as Potter, as the latter himself remarks. Mr. Potter is an ever-present infernal element in the level of Bedford Falls reality and is the factor that changes the life of its inhabitants into one of purgatory. Peter Bailey at some point describes Potter as a sick man: “[He is] frustrated and sick. Sick in his mind, sick in his soul, if he has one. Hates everybody that has anything that he can’t have.” Interestingly, Poague understands Potter’s behaviour as frustration resulting from “the same kind of romantic extremism that plagues George. Potter cannot be happy short of having everything he desires. Likewise, George cannot be happy short of seeing everything he wishes to see.”26 Thus, the picture that emerges from such an interpretation of the conflict between George and Potter provides us with the clear examples of two archetypal romantic characters: George–a romantic hero, fighting for his ideals in the name of higher good; and Potter–a romantic villain, ready to engage himself in any ploy that can lead him to victory over his adversary. The battle between the two characters is fierce throughout the 24

Carney, American Vision, 385. Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 209. 26 Poague, The Cinema Of Frank Capra, 209. 25

174

Chapter Five

entire movie. With his hard-boiled politics, Potter gradually succeeds in annihilating George’s youthful dreams over the years. On the other hand, George has always been “a boil on [Potter’s] neck,” as Potter himself states. In fact, George and the Bailey Building and Loan is the only obstacle standing in Potter’s way of gaining total control over Bedford Falls and that is the reason why, having unsuccessfully tried to destroy Building and Loan, Potter finally decides that the only way to defeat George is to employ him. It has been noticed by numerous critics that Henry F. Potter is a purely nineteenth century character and, as such, bears striking resemblance to Dickens’s Ebenezer Scrooge.27 The assumption seems to be quite convincing when we consider the way Capra presents and develops the villain. The first time we see Potter in Bedford Falls it is through the eyes of young George in one of the retrospective scenes from George’s childhood. George with a group of his peers is walking along the street as they are passed by an elaborate horse drawn carriage, distinctively outstanding in its lavishness from the 1919 main street surrounding. The boys stop for a while and watch it in wonder, and the viewer is offered a comment from the celestial level: “Who’s that–a king?” “That’s Henry F. Potter, the richest and the meanest man in the county.” Next, we see Potter in several scenes from past and present in which the wealthy mogul demands the overdue mortgage payments from people who were unable to pay it on time, dissolving the Building and Loan, or we see him thriving during the Great Depression, which for Potter becomes a golden opportunity to benefit financially from the country’s economic crisis. At one juncture we witness the conversation between Potter and Peter Bailey in which George’s father argues against foreclosing on mortgages since the recent rate of unemployment has left people hard up and they have children to take care of, to which Potter replies: “They’re not my children. [...] Are you running a business or a charity ward?” The above statement recalls a similar answer delivered by the original Scrooge in similar circumstances, namely to the gentlemen collecting funds for charity on the day of Christmas Eve: I can’t afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned [prisons, Union workhouses]–they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there. [...] If they would rather die [...] they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.28 27

See Ray, A Certain Tendency Of The Hollywood Cinema, 197. Charles Dickens, “A Christmas Carol,” in The Christmas Books (London: Penguin Books, 1994), 12. 28

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

175

However, A Christmas Carol tells the story of change and positive transformation, whereas in It’s a Wonderful Life the villain never changes and never even repents of his vile deeds.29 Martin Schneider accurately points out that Dickens presents not one but three Scrooges in his story: the idealistic young one, the grumpy and stingy one as we meet him on Christmas Eve, and the joyous one transformed after the visits of the three ghosts. Thus, Potter can be considered to be the middle incarnation of Scrooge, but devoid of his previous and subsequent positive sides and hence he is “far blacker and more malignant that Scrooge could ever hope to be.”30 Such a portrayal allows for the assumption that Potter constitutes a quintessentially romantic villain. As Lesley Brill points out, romantic villains “reek of carrion and the smoky fires of hell”,31 and the quotation seems to be the accurate description of Potter's diabolic nature. Potter has no family to care for or to worry about, has no friends, and as he himself declares: “most people hate [him], but [he] doesn’t like them either, so that makes it all even.” The statement, which confirms Potter’s approval of such a status quo, simultaneously depicts the broader prospect of his philosophy of life. He is neither interested in improving his reputation among his fellow citizens, nor cares about treating people with respect and simple human compassion. Just as D. B. Norton before him, who used to perceive people as “hoi polloi”, Potter sees in them “lazy rabble”, “garlic eaters”, and “riff-raff”; in fact, all he loves and respects is money and the power it provides to him. Devoid of familial or any other human bonds, Potter becomes the symbol of greedy capitalism and human oppression. Additionally, in the purgatorial reality of Bedford Falls, he also acquires the meaning of a local emissary of evil who continuously occupies himself with plotting against those who obstruct the completion of his goals, i.e. George and the Baileys’ institution. In fact, when we reflect upon it, Potter’s idea to employ George is as surprising as the scene itself. The meeting takes place in Potter’s own realm, his lavishly furnished office. Potter sits behind his desk in his usual throne-like exquisite chair, and his impassive 29

It is worth recalling that Capra explored a Scrooge-like character earlier in his career in You Can't Take It With You. However, Kirby, Sr, following the pattern of the original Dickensian Scrooge, becomes transformed in the end. Perhaps in the case of post-war It's A Wonderful Life Capra decided it was time to present a somewhat exaggerated version of a real diabolical romantic villain. 30 Martin Schneider, “It’s A Wonderful Life. Youth Is Wasted On The Wrong People!,” Metaphilm. See through Cinema. Online on January 16, 2013 at: http://metaphilm.com/philm.php?id=216_0_2_0. 31 Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 6.

176

Chapter Five

valet is standing behind him.32 Potter’s portrait, hung in a place visible from the mogul’s chair, highlights the sense of Potter’s megalomania. In addition, on the desk beside him we find the bust of Napoleon, a frequent requisite of Capra’s villains, which was also to be found in D. B. Norton’s office before. George is invited to sit in a chair which, despite the hero’s height, makes him look small and insignificant and enables Potter to look at his interlocutor from above. George sits at the edge of a vast chair in a position that resembles the pose of a humble school boy waiting to be scolded by his headmaster and waits for an explanation of the reasons behind Potter’s invitation. The sequence that follows proves the ingenious shrewdness of Potter’s evil mind. The perfect strategy designed to destroy his adversary in white gloves exposes George to a dangerous trial of honesty and strength of character. Potter begins his tirade in a peculiarly friendly sense of camaraderie by boosting George’s ego through the means of admitting he has failed to defeat George throughout the years and, in fact, George has managed to beat him. Subsequently, he presents the facts of George’s life and reminds him how many of his dreams George has had to deny himself in order to save the Building and Loan and, with cold purposefulness in disguise of concern, Potter points out that George has been trapped in this town against his will and his life so far has practically been a failure and a loss of precious time and talent. George listens to Potter in confusion and with painful realization that the words of his lifelong enemy are a perfect reflection of his own thoughts and convictions. The silent vexation of the hero is depicted through his nervous glances and the intense look on his face turning from confusion to anger. Having achieved the intended aim, Potter proceeds with seducing George with an offer of $20,000 a year–a substantial sum at that time–if he agrees to merge with him, and challenges him to accept it. Just to make sure his offer is perceived clearly, he visualises the prospective profits coming out of it: “You wouldn’t mind living in the nicest house in town, buying your wife a lot of fine clothes, a couple of business trips to New York a year, maybe once in a while Europe. You wouldn’t mind that, would you, George?” George’s astonishment is expressed in his facial expression, clumsy 32

There are several occasions in the movie that we see Potter's butler whispering to his ear. In his article Mathew Costello points out the significance of this fact, as it is believed in culture that “the devil always speaks in the left ear, in which, significantly, George is deaf.” See his “The Pilgrimage and Progress of George Bailey: Puritanism, It's A Wonderful Life, And The Language Of Community In America,” American Studies, vol. 40, no. 3 (Fall 1999): 46.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

177

movements when he can no longer sit down calmly and jumps to his feet dropping the cigar he was nervously holding between his fingers throughout the encounter. Potter’s offer results in igniting George’s hopes and desires for his family’s financial improvement and for a short while he is willing to jump at this unexpected chance. And, indeed, he comes very close to making a pact with Potter, which is signified by the symbolic handshake. However, through the revulsion at physical contact with Potter’s greasy palms, George realizes that by such a union between them Potter cannot mean anything more beyond treachery and deception. To merge with Potter would be to betray his moral code and to stand against everything George and his father have ever believed in. It takes him a mere few seconds of epiphany to see the picture clearly-that, as usual, Potter is playing his own mercenary game, just as he was during the bank run earlier in the movie. He is not selling or giving anything away; he is buying,33 and this time George’s soul is at stake. As such, he examines his hands with a shudder and with an infuriated glare refuses to join Potter in an angry performance that makes Potter drop the veil of false friendliness from his face and for once leaves him speechless: “You sit here and you spin your little webs and you think the whole world revolves around you and your money. Well, it doesn’t, Mr. Potter! In the... in the whole vast configuration of things, I’d say you were nothing but a scurvy little spider.” From this battle George emerges victorious. However, even though once more he confirms the strength of his ethical code and succeeds at resisting temptation of exchanging his ideals for material comfort, his victory does not bring him much satisfaction. Potter’s words manage to poison his mind with visions of a better and more interesting life than the one he and his wife live within the confined space of Bedford Falls. In his head he recalls all of the lofty plans and dreams he used to have and in the end was forced to abandon, and again he begins to doubt the reasonableness of his actions. Nevertheless, in his fervent address to Mr. Potter, George expresses his subconscious conviction about the world order and belief in his place and meaning within the universe. In the whole vast configuration of things and matters assembled within the purgatorial level of Bedford Falls, George has been appointed to do a task the importance of which he does not quite grasp yet, but he will see and understand it in its fullness later on in the movie. 33

During the Great Depression scene on the day of George’s wedding he explains to the panicky crowd of people that by means of his offer to pay half price for each share, Potter “is not selling, he’s buying,” which, if they do not stick together, may result in Potter’s taking financial control over the whole town.

178

Chapter Five

From the subsequent montage sequence of war events we learn about important operations and achievements of George’s brother and friends on the battlefields of Europe. Since George is forced to remain in Bedford Falls on account of his ear, he engages in local war activities which, alas, in George’s eyes are merely substitutes and, as such, not only do not guarantee him the feeling of proper fulfilment of his duties but fill him with more bitterness and a deeper conviction of failure. The culmination of George’s despair and disappointment with life strikes at the moment of George’s realization that uncle Billy’s absent-minded misplacement of the Building and Loan funds will inevitably lead him to jail and his family to financial and social ruin. It is interesting, as it has been noticed by some critics, that George automatically assumes that he is the one responsible for the loss of the money and takes the blame entirely on himself.34 This attitude must derive from George’s innate instinct and intrinsic need to protect weaker individuals. In fact, at this point George’s behaviour should no longer surprise the viewer since, at a closer look, this case is not so different from any other situation in George’s life. As a young adult George assumed the responsibility for the Building and Loan and hence for a vast number of Bedford Falls citizens with the same heroic sacrifice. Ironically, for his heroism George has to pay the high price of axiological freedom in the former case and prospective physical imprisonment in the latter one. The scene of George’s eventual outburst of rage in front of his family, according to Sam Girgus, belongs to “the most moving and powerful in American film history.”35 We are offered the dramatic sequence in which George verbally attacks his children preparing for the celebration of Christmas. In fury he destroys the models of architectural constructions he had once dreamt of building in real life, and, subsequently, with horror over his outrageous behaviour, he undertakes a futile attempts to alleviate the situation, which results in more tears and the utter confusion of the children. The scene, Girgus continues, may also be “one of the most important in its suggestiveness about the impending collapse of the American family in the face of accumulated pressures involving economics, security and gender.”36 However, it also indicates the perils lying behind the constant suppression of individual imaginative aspirations and the inability of self-realization. Capra has dealt with the 34 Leland Poague provides this example of George’s behaviour in his discussion concerning incongruities in It’s A Wonderful Life. See his Another Frank Capra, 218. 35 Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance, 100. 36 Girgus, Hollywood Renaissance, 100.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

179

subject in a number of his earlier movies. Broken down and discouraged with painful disappointment upon the discovery of their apparent inability to make a difference, Smith and Deeds resolve to withdraw and return to the safety of their own small town asylum. George is perhaps the most tragic character.37 The years of constant resignations and disappointment with life and himself make him fall prey to his false illusion that he is the reason of his family’s ill fortune and they would be much better off without him. In the end, Bedford Falls and his life within it become the realm of George’s axiological inferno, which eventually leads him to the state of utter despair and makes him contemplate suicide. Taking into consideration various dimensions of George Bailey’s drama, it becomes obvious that the reality of It’s a Wonderful Life is multi-level on more than spatial grounds. Although, within the frame of Capra’s territorial division, Bedford Falls constitutes the middle– purgatorial௅level of the presented world, for George it turns into the stage upon which he is exposed to the axiological experience of all three of Dante’s levels. I have already discussed the purgatorial level of George’s axiological experience, also pointing out that the hardship of life and a never-ending chain of disappointments result in the end in George’s perception of his life as an unbearable hell on earth. However, to say that George’s existence consists of darkness and hopeless despair alone would be too much of an exaggeration. In fact, we can find glimpses of paradisal reality in between most of the purgatorial events in his life. Nevertheless, paradisal events, to which I would like to devote some attention at this point, remain just glimpses in truth, since they are always overshadowed by the sharp contrast of purgatorial experiences or diminished by George’s erroneous vision of his life as a failure. Curiously, innocence and experience have been interwoven throughout George’s life from the start. The light-hearted frivolity of George’s childhood games displayed in the first scene we meet the protagonist, in which he and a group of his peers are sliding down the snow-covered slope on the shovels is disturbed by Harry Bailey’s falling into the lake, which eventually results in George’s loss of hearing in his left ear. The heroic deed of saving Mr. Gower from prison is rewarded with slaps in the face. Subsequently, the viewer is provided with several different scenes of the hero’s joyful preparations to leave the town in 37 In her study of comic drama Francesca A. Murphy claims that in comedies the heroes suffer as much as in tragedies. Therefore, my use of the term tragic here is not intended to question the genre of It's A Wonderful Life, but to underline the amount of suffering the hero has to undergo. See Murphy, The Comedy Of Revelation, 24.

180

Chapter Five

search of foreign adventures and education, and each of the occasions is prevented by various unexpected disturbances. Hence, the dynamics of George’s life is ever changing, hectic and constantly altering the mood from light paradisal bliss to a dim purgatorial solemnity and, irrespective of George’s opinion in that matter, it never permits a dull moment. One of the longest paradisal sequences in George’s life begins on the day before his prospective and never-to-be-realized journey to Europe. After the scene of selecting a suitcase for a “thousand and one night” journey, George is heading home in high spirits, and Capra uses the opportunity to picture the hero in the cheerful state of expectation and excitement over the possibilities awaiting him. He passes the Norman Rockwell-like main street of Bedford Falls, which for once appears to be the classic Caprian small-town idyll. Mr. Gower’s drugstore is crowded with laughing school kids enjoying soda and ice-cream; the streets are busy with passersby and shining in the spring sunlight; the trees are in full bloom, and George’s friends greet him jocularly as a great voyager and future discoverer of foreign lands. After the joyous exchange of some waggish jokes, George demands to be driven home in style by his friend, the taxi driver. At the Bailey’s house the happy paradisal mood prolongs as George and Harry share the moments of uproarious fun and enjoyment of getting ready for Harry’s graduation party, which George eventually joins in as well. It is during the graduation ball that George sees Mary Hatch as if for the first time, in spite of the fact that, being the younger sister of George’s friend Marty (Harold Landon), she must have been around most of the time; and, in fact, she has always been. Capra introduces Mary to the audience as early as in the memorable 1919 scene at Mr. Gower’s drugstore, where George serves little Mary with chocolate ice-cream, lectures her about the origins of coconuts, and boasts about his plans to become an explorer, to which Mary responds with a vow to love him till the day she dies whispered into George’s bad ear.38 Yet, when asked by Marty to give the girl the thrill of a lifetime by means of a dance at a graduation party (to which George agrees reluctantly), he looks at Mary as if he had never seen her before. The moment is magic with romantic magnetism and the sensation of being suspended in time. They are in the middle of a crowded ballroom when their eyes meet and, while George looks at Mary in astonishment and awe, Mary, radiant with beauty and smiling timidly upon the recognition of George’s presence, makes the 38

Walters points to the solemnity and almost religious reverence of this vow which Mary utters thoroughly to herself and having made sure that no one else (not even George) hears her. See his Alternative Worlds In Hollywood Cinema, 121.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

181

impression of being conscious of her oath from the past and still faithful to it. They embrace and begin to dance without a word and still gazing at each other. The silence is broken by George’s humorous admission that he does not know her indeed, as she cannot be the same little girl he passes on the street almost every day. George’s statement together with his astounded enamoured look seem to confirm Brill’s theory that romantic love, like divine grace, can be neither earned nor deserved; it must be “amazing”.39 This mutual amazement makes the couple spend the rest of the evening together. They engage in a Charleston contest, presented by Capra in a series of the iconic pictures exposing the craze and merriment of the Roaring Twenties. Mary, George and dozens of other participants end up in the school swimming pool which, to the amusement of all, suddenly opens beneath the dance floor. After dancing in the swimming pool for a while, the heroes wander the streets of Bedford Falls dressed in oversized sports attire borrowed from the college’s locker room, as their own clothes are soaking wet. It is in this scene that Capra shows the romantic nature of Bedford Falls in its full intensity. Despite the nighttime, the streets are saturated with moonlight, turning the town into an impressionistic vision of a romantic green world. The nature in blossom prophesies spring-time fertility and sentimental fulfilment. George and Mary vigorously perform a duet of “Buffalo Gals” in an off-key harmony, continuing the happy celebration of the graduation party as well as their unexpected meeting and mutual discovery. I have discussed the subject of songs and singing in the previous chapters and pointed out how Capra uses them in his movies for the sake of creating the feeling of communion and tightening the spiritual bonds between characters. Ellie Andrews and Peter Warne enjoy the experience of singing in chorus with other passengers of a bus on the road to their eventual transformation. Citizens of Mandrake Falls bid farewell to Longfellow Deeds with music and singing at the train station. There is always music and dancing at the Disney-like reality of Grandpa Vanderhof’s house and, at the end, the harmonica duet performed by Grandpa and Mr. Kirby serves as the means of resolving a divisive conflict. However, in the case of George and Mary, when we realize that the whole scene of their moonlight walk is, in fact, the art of evasion; that their “Buffalo Gals” duet acquires another meaning as well. Throughout the scene they are careful not to say anything explicit and not to verbalise their attraction to one another. Capra leaves the task of expressing the 39

Brill, The Hitchcock Romance, 20.

182

Chapter Five

feelings that have been born between the heroes to their smiles, glances, body language, and the natural green world around them. First, they sing instead of speak and, next, they choose to test a local folk habit of throwing a rock and making a wish after they successfully break the glass of an old abandoned house’s window, and for a while the heroes get utterly lost within the magic of turning dreams and desires into expected reality. Music and the other theatrical games George and Mary play in this sequence, as Carney points out, “indicate their inability to speak their true feelings.”40 Their duet is, therefore, the only verbal way they can afford to express their affections for each other at that moment. In fact, for some reason, Mary’s and George’s subsequent behaviour seems to contradict the romantic bond which by now is quite obvious to the viewer, and they head in quite an opposite direction than could be expected. This surprising fact becomes evident in the scene of the rock throwing custom. At first Mary objects to the idea stating that she loves that old house which is so full of romance and she declares she would like to live in it. She looks at the mansion with a dreamy look in her eyes, and the view of the house offered to the audience through Mary’s eyes brings to mind the recollections of fairy tale castles straight from gothic mysteries. To George, however, it displays nothing more than that of an old decrepit house and he retorts incredulously: “In that place? I wouldn’t live in it as a ghost”. He throws the rock and accurately breaks the glass and in reply to Mary’s inquiry about the dream he wished for, he recites the already-quoted long list of dreams and plans of leaving Bedford Falls and conquering the outside world. Poague finds a connection here with the soliloquy delivered by George in front of the old Granville house and the 1919 drugstore scene, in which young George expresses the wish to travel to exotic places and to have harems and three or four wives. In both cases we hear George’s plans concerning the future; both speeches are addressed to Mary; and in both cases George overtly excludes Mary from his plans which Poague identifies as an act of “spiritual mischief” comparable to the one of Peter Warne’s in It Happened One Night.41 However, it seems quite plausible to believe that at the moment of uttering his list of dreams and desires at the rock throwing scene, George is truly convinced about the accurateness and completeness of his list. Or if not quite, by means of the flow of 40

Carney, American Vision, 395. Poague, Another Frank Capra, 200. In It Happened One Night Peter Warne delivers a speech concerning his vision of Pacific Island and his dream to find a proper girl to share his desires with. His soliloquy is addressed to Ellie Andrews, whom he deliberately excludes from his vision. 41

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

183

words uttered without the single break, George at least desperately tries to brush aside the conscious realization of his love for Mary, for fear it might stop him from achieving his goals. Mary, on the other hand, seems to be certain of her feelings, wishes, and intentions when she bends in search for a rock of her own and, with determination painted on her face, breaks another window which brings George’s soliloquy to a halt. She refuses to reveal what she had wished for, explaining that it might not come true if she told it out loud.42 Such logic brings to mind Mary's childhood declaration of her love in the drugstore which, although spoken out loud, was also unheard by anybody. George's acceptance of such an explanation, as Poague suggests, casts a shadow upon the prospective fulfilment of his own loudly pronounced dreams, as well as the nature of his real desires and intentions. The critic points out that, in the light of George's acceptance of Mary's remark about not verbalising the wish, George's eager pronouncement of his dreams can be understood as a subconscious desire to cancel his wish.43 The couple resume walking and singing and they stop at George’s poetic offer of lassoing the moon and giving it to Mary: What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw the lasso around it and pull it down. [...] I’ll give you the moon, Mary. [...] Well, then you could swallow it and it’d all dissolve, see? And the moonbeams’d shoot out of your fingers and your toes, and the ends of your hair.

This imaginative vision in which George equips Mary with a halo and, by doing so, equating her to the status of a saint, proves that, against the pronounced intention to exclude her from his plans for the future, George’s perception of Mary as a moonlit goddess is overtly romantic. Carney’s reading of the scene argues that, despite its visionary undertone and beauty, it brings nothing to the plot and leads the characters not a single step further, except for “beating around the bush” in order to avoid verbalising their feelings.44 I would argue the case, however, since, by means of his romantic improvisation, George creates the sense of union and binds Mary with bonds stronger than any traditional declaration of love would be able to. Mary accepts the offer with an inspired smile and the look in her eyes exposes the aura of an inner light which seems to 42

Walters discusses the subject of making wishes in It's A Wonderful Life in details in his Alternative Worlds In Hollywood Cinema, 120-127. 43 See Poague, Another Frank Capra, 198. 44 See Carney, American Vision, 395.

184

Chapter Five

radiate from within her even without the need of “swallowing” the moon. In the context of the spatial organisation of Bedford Falls’ reality and George’s life within it, the scene of lassoing the moon may also be read from another perspective. It is interesting to note how close௅standing in the near vicinity of the old Granville house, their future love nest௅the heroes are to heaven. In fact, Capra deviously suggests that at this point that they are so close to heaven and paradisal reality that it would be possible for George to physically reach out and get the moon for Mary. The moment of the couple’s paradisal proximity is disturbed by a casual witness to George’s romantic extravaganza, who from his near-by front porch accuses him of talking the girl to death and wasting time he should devote to kissing. Thus, the couple are brought back to earth and the scene that follows constitutes a comic counterbalance to the moment of their romantic exultation. By a screwball-like accident George steps upon the belt of Mary’s robe. She sheds it and hurriedly hides in a nearby hydrangea bush and, subsequently, is trying to shame George into returning the only piece of her attire. George, however, finds the situation very interesting and his initial impulse to throw the robe back to Mary changes into the comic flow of speculations upon its possibilities. Alas, the paradisal mood of the couple’s carefree evening together is radically changed by the news of Peter Bailey’s stroke, which forces George to part with Mary and rush back home. The next occasion that George and Mary meet together is dimmed by purgatorial shades of George’s disappointments, which have piled up during the four years of Mary’s absence at college and have left George sour and bitter. His bitterness is even more intensified by an abrupt realization that Harry, who has arrived to Bedford Falls with the news of his recent marriage, is not going to remain in town and take over the Building and Loan after all. George is pondering upon the matter when his mother (Beulah Bondi), obviously having in mind the matchmaking plan, suggests his paying a visit to Mary. But George heads in another direction as if in search for something that would at least temporarily grant him freedom from any social obligations and responsibilities. He ends up on Bedford Falls’ main street, where he is spotted by his childhood acquaintance, the town’s beauty Violet Bick (Gloria Grahame). George proposes to engage in a series of activities which conspicuously recall the romantic performances of his and Mary’s at the “Buffalo Gals” scene: Let’s go out in the fields and take off our shoes and walk through the grass. [...] Then we can go up to the falls. It’s beautiful up there in the moonlight, and there’s a green pool up there, and we can swim in it. Then we can

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

185

climb Mt. Bedford, and smell the pines, and watch the sunrise against the peaks, and... we’ll stay up there the whole night, and everybody will be talking and there’ll be a terrific scandal...

However, the romantic ideas of George, to which Mary would surely respond with eager readiness and acceptance, for Violet sound preposterous and she reacts to them with indignation and furious denial. The scene is brought to an end by the sound of laughter of the passersby witnessing the encounter. Capra does not provide us with any clue as to whether the above occurrence has made George consciously realize the difference between the two girls and Mary’s exceptional ability to grasp the romantic needs of his soul. Nevertheless, we subsequently see him walking undecidedly back and forth beneath Mary’s window. According to Carney, the events that follow indicate George’s inescapable entrapment within the social system and his inability to act outside of it. He reluctantly accepts Mary’s invitation to come in, and his sulky expression reveals his discomfort. Carney points out that Capra’s intention is to show “what it feels like to be a character playing a part scripted and directed by someone else.”45 Thus, George joins the line of Capra’s other heroes, who were similarly forced to take part in a puppetlike show before him. Stew Smith, Longfellow Deeds, Jeff Smith, Kirby, Jr.–they all find their way out of it eventually. George, however, is stuck within the purgatorial level and hence devoid of any possibility to liberate himself from the social oppression. Indeed, the circumstances surrounding his visit to Mary’s house display the accuracy of the above thesis. Even though he never admits that he is going to follow his mother’s suggestion to visit Mary, the girl informs him that Mrs. Bailey has already called and announced his intention to drop in. Thus, Mary has been awaiting George in full readiness and she has managed to carefully prepare the stage for George’s visit. An embroidered picture of George lassoing the moon is placed in a visible place and a record player transmits the tunes of “Buffalo Gals” in commemoration of their evening spent together four years ago.46 Therefore, by means of entering Mary’s house, George is once more denied the chance to direct his own life and becomes an actor in a play directed by Mary. George acknowledges these props set by Mary with a mask of indifference and slight annoyance. In fact, during the few initial moments of his visit, he acts rudely and insultingly towards her. He ridicules Mary’s confession of having been homesick for Bedford Falls while at college and, next, they spend a 45 46

Carney, American Vision, 397. See Carney, American Vision, 397-398.

186

Chapter Five

couple of awkward minutes on conventional small talk during which George purposefully exhibits his moodiness and irritation. He finally decides that he should go home and hurriedly exits leaving Mary almost in tears. He significantly returns to collect his hat, however, and he reluctantly stays longer to talk to Sam Wainwright, who calls Mary from New York. Capra uses the scene, in which the couple is forced to share the receiver, as a means to bind them with something more than just a telephone cord. As they listen to Sam’s business ideas, they are painfully aware of their proximity. They stand so close that George’s face touches Mary’s brow, and after a while of perplexed, intimate glances, George breaks down, grabs Mary by the arm and desperately declares that he does not want to get married ever and to anyone and adds in desperation: “I want to do what I want to do.” Subsequently, in an outburst of passion, he pulls Mary to his chest and covers her tearful face with kisses, frantically repeating her name over and over again. Carney treats the above scenes as one more proof of George’s oppression by the boundaries of the social codes, and he states that the “tyranny of love is even more oppressive [...] than that of hate.”47 However, I am inclined to interpret these events from an alternative perspective. It is unquestionable that the events of the day of his visit to Mary’s house disturbed George’s world, which at any rate so far has mostly been marked by purgatorial experiences. The news of his brother’s marriage forced him to ultimately bury the hopes for fulfilment of his dreams of at least going to college. Hence, he gets to Mary's in a state of disillusionment and painful capitulation mixed with resentment and reluctance to accept his fate. It seems Mary constitutes a counterbalance to George’s dark experiences. Having achieved part of George's aspirations herself (moving out of Bedford Falls for the sake of gaining a college education) Mary displays a deep understanding of George's problems and frustrations. After all, she has made a conscious decision to cast away the delights offered by the world outside Bedford Falls. She rejected the courtship of Sam Wainwright, the suitor who would certainly secure her at least with the comfort of material luxury, and decided to return to her hometown and to intertwine her life with the man whom she had once vowed to love forever. Mary brings light into George's life and awakens passion and feelings, of which up till now he was not, or did not want to be, conscious. James Walters points out that it would be interesting to know “whether without Mary coming back into his life, 47

Carney, American Vision, 397.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

187

George would have recovered from the death of his dreams.”48 I tend to believe that Mary’s presence in George’s life secures the hero from sinking into the infernal level at this point. She helps him to heal his wounds; she tries to show him his real value; and helps him, at least partially, to liberate his mind from the axiological inferno he is constantly endangered by. For a short while the sun begins to shine for George, but only metaphorically, as it rains heavily on the day of Mary’s and George’s wedding. Capra informs us about their marriage in a shot presenting the couple, family, and guests preparing for the wedding photograph a minute before their departure for a honeymoon to Bermuda. I have already described the circumstances that eventually force George and Mary to change their plans, and thus depriving George even of this chance to leave Bedford Falls at least for a short time. However, by way of compensation for yet another disappointment, George is offered the reward of a different sort than the one he had always longed for. After an entire day of heroic struggle to save the Building and Loan using his own honeymoon finances, George receives a phone call from Mary, who urges him to come home and provides him with an address which does not seem to ring a bell for George. He arrives at the old Granville house, exhibiting the same level of dilapidation and decay as four years ago, and while George watches the house with a dazed expression, Capra shows us the comic shots of George’s friends, Ernie and Bert, busying themselves with preparations to greet the groom in style. The door opens and Ernie, playing the role of a butler, lets George in. The interior of the house displays the ingeniousness of Mary’s creative imagination. In a few brief hours she has managed to transform the decrepitude of the house into the augury of fertility and romance. She stands with the coy, radiant smile of a bride and awaits her newly-wed husband’s reaction, while he acknowledges the table built out of the boxes piled up together and set for two with champagne and caviar; the bed prepared for their wedding night; the fire in the fireplace; the broken windows covered with the South Seas travel posters. The gramophone is playing “Song of the Islands” and Mary greets George with the words: “Welcome home, Mr. Bailey”. As they rush into each other's arms, Mary reveals that this was the dream she had wished for on the night of throwing the stones four years ago. At the same moment, Bert and Ernie, standing outside in the rain, begin to sing “I Love You Truly” in a twovoice harmony. 48

Walters, Alternative Worlds in Hollywood Cinema, 125.

188

Chapter Five

The scene bears a meaningful significance when, upon Mary’s confession, we consider the different direction in which the dreams of both protagonists have always been heading. Even though throughout the film Mary, ever aware of a complex nature of George's desires, is always careful to compensate his feelings of unfulfillment in any possible way, as in the wedding night scene in which she attempts to create the atmosphere of exotic places from George’s desires,49 it becomes clear that while George’s dreams have always been heading “outward”, i.e. outside of the limitative social and geographical boundaries of Bedford Falls, Mary’s desires have been directed “inward” all along.50 She declares being home sick after the four-year-long absence from her home town, whereas George would be happy to leave the town for any length of time. The same attitude is confirmed in the earlier rock throwing scene. It is interesting to note that, in this respect, within the purgatorial and also paradisal level, George differs from most of Capra’s other heroes. Deeds, Smith, and even Doe were dreaming about leaving big cities and returning to the safety of their idyllic small towns. George, on the other hand, is always driven by the desire to escape Bedford Falls. This is, however, because of the fact that Bedford Falls constitutes a microcosm in itself and it can be treated as a picture of America in miniature, within which every political, economic, and social phenomenon is to be found. Potter’s politics provides the town with the regime of much the same kind that D. B. Norton and James Taylor had thrived on in the previous movies. Therefore, it is not necessary for George Bailey to leave the town in order to struggle for higher ideals and against social injustice outside of it. The desperate need to get out of Bedford Falls is, consequently, as I have already stated, the result of his purgatorially-blurred perception of his existence. On the day of the couple’s wedding life once more strips George of his brief paradisal exultation, by means of depriving the newlyweds of their Bermuda honeymoon. Nevertheless, in exchange for one more unfulfilled hope of leaving, and in truth, for all of the lost dreams of outside adventures, Mary offers him the rewards of romantic love and family life. George accepts the offer but, nevertheless, he is not ready to utterly part with his former plans. He hides them deeply within his mind 49

Poague states that Mary has acknowledged George's desires all along and therefore she is fit to take part and share them with him. Furthermore, she constitutes George's alter ego, mirror image, soul mate and spiritual equal and hence she is able to profoundly comprehend George's problems and dilemmas. See his Another Frank Capra, 212. 50 See Carney, American Vision, 410.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

189

and never mentions them out loud anymore. However, disappointment and the conviction of failure keep poisoning him from the inside and result in deepening the feeling of forever dwelling in the depressing realm of purgatory. Looking more closely at George’s and Mary’s relationship, it quickly becomes clear that she is the foundation of it. While George’s steely determination to launch his romantic aspirations into life leads him to the state of incessant discontentment, Mary’s desires remain more “classical”, which according to Daniel Sullivan’s analysis means “allow[ing] for passions and dreams only in so far as they conform to human nature and respect its right order.”51 Sullivan argues that “the romance Mary perceives is one of stability and rootedness, of domesticity and a lived-in, close-at-hand history and is antithetical to the escapist romance that appeals to George.”52 Interestingly, just as George represents an alteration to the previous pattern of Capra’s heroes, in many ways Mary constitutes an exception from other prominent Capra heroines. She masterly reconciles her determination and impressive strength of character with ever dazzling feminine warmth, fragility and angelic innocence and beauty. From the very beginning she displays strength, confidence about what she wants and she aims at realising her desires, never allowing for any distractions to cloud her perception of the world she lives in. What is especially striking is the fact that, unlike many other women in Capra’s movies, she does not need to undergo a process of transformation. Her system of values is defined and well-ordered and she never doubts it or falters on her way to build her family life and supporther husband and children in any accessible way. Therefore, Mary can be considered to be the constant paradisal element in George’s life, akin to a Dantean Beatrice. Unfortunately, this awareness, which at times is briefly acknowledged by George, in the long run gets overshadowed by his purgatorial reality and infernal attacks. Examining George’s ultimate breakdown after the incident of losing the Building and Loan funds, Carney’s statement that there is no need for a real villain in It’s a Wonderful Life proves to be adequate.53 In truth, George’s purgatorial frustrations throughout the film are the outcome of his own false judgments and inability to draw the line between the reality 51

Based on Irving Babbitt’s analysis of different types of imaginations, Daniel Sullivan argues that George and Mary represent “romantic” and “classical” types accordingly. See his “Sentimental Hogwash? On Capra’s It’s A Wonderful Life,” Humanitas, vol. 18, No. 1/2 (2005): 129-133. 52 Sullivan, “Sentimental Hogwash?”, 132. 53 Carney, American Vision, 380.

190

Chapter Five

of his unfulfilled dreams and the factual meaning of the events in his life. Thus, the state of axiological hell he seems to be drowning in most of the time is due to his own imagination. It is also due to this confusion and utter loss of hope that George allows Potter’s spiteful assertion that he is worth more dead than alive to permeate his soul so easily. However, even at the time of the most profound despair, George is granted paradisal help in the person of Clarence, the second-class angel.

Pottersville: The Infernal Level While George contemplates committing suicide by means of throwing himself into the river, Clarence intervenes by jumping first and thus changes the meaning of George’s action into a heroic sacrifice to save a life. As they dry their clothes in the nearby toll house, Clarence tells George he is an angel sent from heaven in order to help him. In the course of the conversation that follows George pronounces the "wish" to have never been born. Having realized that it is not going to be easy to persuade George that he has been mistaken as to the value of his life all along, Clarence decides to grant him the wish and offers him a chance to see what the world would be like had he never been born. What follows is a bleak infernal level in which George experiences the horrifying results of his nonexistence. One of the first changes that George acknowledges during his desperate search for familiarity within the alternative version of his home town provided by Clarence is the change of the town’s name. Bedford Falls is now Pottersville, and while George in horror traverses unrecognizably altered streets, Clarence makes attempts to point out how much good George had brought to his home town, how much had depended on him, and how priceless his life had been. The nightmarish Pottersville sequence depicts the third, abysmal underworld level of It’s a Wonderful Life’s spatial reality. The town without George Bailey is transformed beyond recognition and within it Capra paints a cold vision of a modern town crowded with unfamiliar, unsmiling strangers bleakly passing the streets, which seem to be “dark with something more than night.”54 Pottersville draws a sharp contrast to 54 Raymond Chandler quoted in Frank Krutnik, “Something More Than Night: Tales Of The Noir City,” in The Cinematic City, ed. David B. Clarke (London: Routledge, 1997), 83. Similarly, in the article "Capra Corn" D. J. M Saunders expresses the opinion that: “As a person of this era, I find George's journey to the underworld more deeply scary, more spiritually exhausting, and finally more redemptive than the comparable episodes in medieval or 19th-century literature." See her "Capra Corn." In contrast, Wendell Jamieson in his New York Times article

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

191

Bedford Falls. The nightmare town “exposes the iconography of the 1940s noir city: a riot of neon and jazz, the main street of Pottersville is crammed with burlesque halls, dance joints, pawnbroker’s stores, numerous bars.”55 Martini’s homey bar is now Nick’s, while George’s Bedford Falls friends gathered there are hostile and cynical. Mr. Gower is a drunkard and an ex-con, as George was not there to prevent the tragedy of his unintentional poisoning of a child. Violet Bick is a prostitute, uncle Billy is in an asylum, George’s mother is a solitary sullen old woman running a boarding house, and everyone George meets in Pottersville denies ever knowing him. “Bailey Park” is replaced by “Potter’s Field”, the cemetery, where George finds the grave of his younger brother Harry Bailey’s tomb, indicates that the boy was drowned at the age of nine as George was not there to save him. This further indicates that the whole transport of men saved by Harry during the war must have died as well. The depth of horror of dislocation and homelessness that George experiences is conveyed, among others, by means of close-ups of the hero’s despairing face and terrified expression at the climactic moments of his realization that he has found himself in the real inferno of life: a world without obligations and relations, of which he always thought as of a constraining burden. Finally he has managed to free himself from the social bonds that had seemed to imprison and destroy his individuality. Surprisingly, contrary to what might have been expected, the apparent state of liberation from social oppression brings about George’s appreciation of his hitherto prevailing life and makes him long for the usual order of Bedford Falls’ reality. With the last desperate sparkle of hope George hurries to find his house. However, he gets there only to find the Granville house in utter ruins and looking even more decayed and gothic-like than during the rock throwing scene. It is covered with dust and cobwebs, apparently abandoned and uninhabited for more than the last twenty years. In shock he looks for his wife but Mary is also much altered in Pottersville reality. She is a spinster librarian and looks older, dried up and lacking much of her girlish beauty and jovial vitality. George’s hysteric attempt to persuade Mary that he is her husband and a father of her children ends up presents the opinion that “Pottersville […] looks like much more fun than stultifying Bedford Falls–the women are hot, the music swings, and the fun times go on all night. If anything, Pottersville captures just the type of excitement George had long been seeking.” See his “Wonderful? Sorry, George, It's a Pitiful, Dreadful Life,” New York Times, December 19, 2008. Online on January 16, 2013 at: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/19/movies/19wond.html. 55 Krutnik, “Something More Than Night,” 85.

192

Chapter Five

in a street shooting, which Capra presents in noir gangster-like stylistics. George escapes unharmed and, with the sudden realization of hopelessness of his efforts, he heads towards the bridge on which everything started. With tearful voice and his fists pressed tightly into his eyes, he prays to God to let him get back to his wife and kids and let him live again. Three times he repeats the last plea: “I want to live again”, in folklore fashion,56 and his wish is granted once more. George is brought safely back to Bedford Falls and eventually he is able to look at and behold his home town in a completely new light. George’s Pottersville encounter made him realize that “to break free of all merely ethical, personal, and social involvements may be not to achieve but to give up all that is most important in life.”57 The infernal journey, therefore, turns out to have a purifying power enabling clarification of George’s perception out of purgatorial deformity, which would never have been possible without tearing him out of his home town and thrusting him into a drastic experience of self-discovery outside of Bedford Falls’ boundaries. Clarence provides the hero with an opportunity to discover his real identity and to undergo the process of positive transformation, which appears to have been more complex and difficult for George than for any previous Capra hero. Although the process of inner transformation and maturation usually entails touching the bottom, it seems in the case of George this condition is fulfilled on more than one level. Deeds, Smith, and Doe had each suffered states of severe emotional breakdown at some point; however, it is only George Bailey that has reached an emotional, ideological and financial bottom combined together. The situation does not appear less solemn when we recall that the reasons for his wretched state flow mostly from within himself, and less from the outside factors, as in the case of the previously-mentioned films. Pottersville, as Krutnik accurately notices, “is alive with shadows emanating from within George Bailey–born of his wish to be unborn.”58 Pottersville is, therefore, the vision of George’s greatest subconscious nightmare.59 It presents the world in which Peter’s Bailey’s life-long efforts to save the town from the soulless power of Potter’s economic tyranny turn out to have been futile. In Pottersville reality there is a dancehall situated in the place where the Bailey Building and Loan used to be which, George learns, went out of business years ago. The vision 56

See Poague, Another Frank Capra, 186. Carney, American Vision, 419. 58 Krutnik, “Something More Than Night,” 91. 59 Walters, however, argues that, in movie terms, it is more than "subconscious." See his Alternative Worlds In Hollywood Cinema, 120-131. 57

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

193

shows that, without George’s relinquishments endured for the sake of continuation of his father’s legacy, Peter Bailey’s commitment to the case of providing disinterested help to people in need had been in vain and he sacrificed his life purposelessly in the end. Moreover, Pottersville is the reflection of what the world would have looked like if the nightmares of all Capra’s populist heroes’ had come true. It is the reality in which Jefferson Smith does not go to Washington to struggle against corruption and iniquity: the world in which Anne Mitchell’s father’s ideology gets lost in oblivion, not continued by his daughter and John Doe, and it is the world in which Longfellow Deeds does not win his case and ends up in an asylum, just as George’s uncle Billy. Interestingly, George’s biggest Bedford Falls adversary, Mr. Potter, does not appear in Pottersville in person. Nevertheless, his influence upon the town is evident on every street, in every stone and building. In this reality he is unrestrained by any opposition and he succeeds at transforming the town into an anonymous place devoid of communal identity and human bonds, and as distant as possible from Capra’s philosophy to “be kind" and to "love thy neighbour”. Potter’s heavy toll on the town is so conspicuous in Pottersville that it is probably the reason for Clarence’s decision to make George undergo such a severe trial. What is most surprising is the fact that it is not the emissary of evil but the angel who takes the hero for the tour throughout the infernal realm. Clarence’s solution seems to be the only way to show George the picture of the world unblurred by his purgatorial perception. And, indeed, Clarence’s mission is accomplished successfully, as George acknowledges the angel’s simple moral that “Each man’s life touches so many other lives, and when he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole.” In the eyes of Stephen Handzo, It’s a Wonderful Life reflects the story of A Christmas Carol from Bob Crachit’s perspective.60 In my opinion, however, the aforementioned interpretation of Martin Schneider is more convincing. Schneider points out that, in Dickens’ story, there are in fact three different Scrooges and, furthermore, he states that, while Mr. Potter in It’s a Wonderful Life can be considered to be a much more chilling version of the “chiselling, greedy Scrooge,”61 as he is presented in the middle part of the short story, it is in fact George who constitutes “the first and third incarnation of Scrooge, the idealistic businessman and the joyous goofball.”62 The statement seems plausible, especially when we realize that it is not Bob Crachit in Dickens’ story that is offered the 60

Handzo, “Under Capracorn,” 172. Schneider, “Youth is Wasted On The Wrong People!” 62 Schneider, “Youth is Wasted On The Wrong People!” 61

194

Chapter Five

second chance, but Scrooge. And it is Scrooge who is subdued by the peculiar experience of visiting his past and future life, which is rarely accessible to ordinary mortals. Therefore, such a point of view inevitably leads to a conclusion that there is an undeniable similarity between the characters of George and Mr. Potter. A number of critics have noticed that George and Potter have the same job and they both occupy the same function within the Bedford Falls community. Additionally, Carney points out “[i]t is not accidental that halfway through the movie Potter’s most threatening gesture to George is not an attempt to destroy him, but a offer to merge with him.”63 Contrary to Scrooge, however, George never allows himself to cross this elusive line which parts him from becoming a coldblooded opportunist like Potter. Throughout the film George matures and becomes transformed as Potter never does. At a closer look, it turns out that Mr. Potter is, in fact, proof against all sorts of change. Within the twenty-sixyear time span of reality presented in the movie, Potter never ages and practically remains physically unaltered until the end. In Another Frank Capra, Poague discusses the subject of what he calls “timelessness” in It's a Wonderful Life and he points out that, similarly to the Valley of the Blue Moon in Lost Horizon, time is frozen in Bedford Falls.64 To support his theory, at one point in the movie Uncle Billy states: “Nobody ever changes in Bedford Falls”. However, this statement also seems to be true especially in the case of Mr. Potter; he never changes his opinions and lifestyle and appears unmoved by any outside political, social or economic turmoils and events that influence the town and its citizens. Perhaps the most surprising thing of all is the fact that Potter never suffers any consequences of his evil deeds and never gets punished for them. Throughout his whole life George has always considered the mere prospect of leaving the territorial boundaries of Bedford Falls as an act of moving into paradise, and he perceives his home town as a hell on earth. However, his infernal experience of the alternative reality of Pottersville radically alters his perception and, when his plea to get back to life (no matter what it brings) is granted by Clarence, George rushes back home and looks at the town as if looking at it for the first time. He loudly applauds every street and building he passes, greets friends and strangers busy with some last-minute Christmas preparations and even stops to greet Mr. Potter, who readily replies with a venomous retort: “Happy New Year to you–in jail!” 63 64

Carney, American Vision, 381. See Poague, Another Frank Capra, 201.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

195

Miraculously, the story is resolved with a different ending than the one predicted by Mr. Potter, and George does not end up in jail after all. Capra shows that the life-long servitude in the name of community and common good has not been in vain and, when George finally reaches the Granville house, he finds his fiscal troubles solved by the endeavours of his wife, family and friends. The missing sum of eight thousand dollars, and much more than that, has been collected among the grateful members of Bedford Falls’ community in a gesture of appreciation for their benefactor’s commitment and understanding of human needs. This ending, in consequence, presents the scene of ritual komos-like celebration. The picture of George standing by the Christmas tree and surrounded by his friends and loved ones indicates that the hero has been brought back to life in more ways than one. Firstly, when Clarence exercises his power to bring him back to the spacial level of Bedford Falls. And secondly, when his infernal experience of the hopeless emptiness of existence devoid of social and familial responsibilities makes him finally acknowledge the value of the priceless gift he has been given௅his life in Bedford Falls. Due to the successful accomplishment of his mission, Clarence is rewarded with a set of wings and, as George is reborn to life, the angel can return to heaven. Thus, the earthly order of George’s home town is restored. Bedford Falls once more constitutes the middle, purgatorial level of Capra’s spatial organization of It’s a Wonderful Life’s reality. It still remains the place where people have to struggle against the experience that every single day provides. It is also the place where the envoy of evil, Mr. Potter, does not cease to hatch his crooked plans. However, for George, Bedford Falls acquires an utterly new dimension and changes into his axiological paradise. It is not by coincidence that the film’s final celebration takes place in the time of Yuletide. The lyrics of Hark, The Herald Angels Sing, sung together by the Bedford Falls community surrounding George and his family, indicate explicitly the nature of the event–resurrection, rebirth and renewal become the core of the celebration. The sounds of Auld Lang Syne that follow the carol have also been used on several occasions as a symbol of the strengthening of community bonds and sense of unity and belonging. The evergreen Christmas tree together with people gathered beneath it signify the green world and fertility that George was looking for elsewhere whereas it has always been right there within his reach. George’s clarified insight allows him to realize the truth behind his brother’s toast: “To my big brother, George, the richest man in town.” Indeed, the ending of the movie proves that George’s wealth can be

196

Chapter Five

considered multidimensionally. He is rich with the generosity of his heart and his humanity, reflected in the vast number of friends ready to help in a critical moment.65 Thus, George recognizes Clarence’s moral that “no one is a failure who has friends”. But George’s richness can be measured differently as well. Carney points out that: “George–family man, burdened with debts, cares, children [...] is the richest, most imaginative traveller in all of American film.”66 He is the pilgrim to whom it was given to travel various dimensions of reality, and experience the paradisal, purgatorial and infernal levels of his own life. He is also provided with the opportunity to see what the world would be like without him. Such a journey, which becomes George’s exclusive experience, as it was offered to no other Capra hero but him alone, turns out to be more educating and rewarding than any far-away travel he had longed for. His pilgrimage through the different levels of his existence and non-existence enable George to rid himself of his daunting purgatorial illusions and to become rejuvenated within the paradisal realm and heavenly banquet which he finally achieves. A number of critics consider It’s a Wonderful Life to be Capra’s culminating work. Most frequently the view is based on the universal approach of the film’s message. As Sullivan accurately notices: In It’s a Wonderful Life, Capra permitted contemplation of, among other things, accidental death, natural death, suicide, birth, bankruptcy, depression, poverty, vice, depravity, virtue, spirituality, God, scepticism, envy, materialism, indeed much of what any thoughtful person would list under the category of ‘the human condition.’67

Charles Maland points out that the film incorporates some themes, motives and character types from Capra’s earlier movies. George’s romantic idealism certainly relates to the characters like Deeds and Smith. 65

In her reflection upon the reconstruction of the post-war countries Johanna Mendelson Forman states: “It is difficult to accomplish postconflict reconstruction anywhere in the world when it is done in the isolation of friends and allies.” See her “Striking Out In Baghdad: How the Lessons of Post-conflict Reconstruction Went Awry,” in Nation-building: Beyond Afghanistan And Iraq, (ed.) Francis Fukuyama (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005), 198. The quotation seems to be adequate to the It's A Wonderful Life socially miraculous ending. After all, it is interesting to ponder over the question how would George Bailey's situation develop without the financial help and moral support of a vast number of friends and allies. 66 Carney, American Vision, 435. 67 Sullivan, “Sentimental Hogwash?,” 139.

Innocence and Experience: It’s a Wonderful Life

197

The motives of the bank run, the misery of the Great Depression, and a suicide attempt at Christmas Eve have all been used previously. The moral delivered in It’s a Wonderful Life by Clarence and stating that “wealth is better measured by one’s friends than one’s bank account” had been first pronounced in You Can’t Take it With You.68 Hence, it can be argued that the film constitutes a manifesto of Capra’s crucial ideological premises. My examination of It’s a Wonderful Life allows for drawing the conclusion that the film can be considered to be the quintessence of the Capra romance, as romantic traits are conspicuous at every stage of the protagonist’s life. Therefore, romance can be traced in all three levels: paradisal, purgatorial, and infernal, of both the spatial and axiological division of the presented reality. Moreover, in the end the hero ascends to the paradisal level and, thus, eventually succeeds at a “maintaining of the integrity of the innocent world against the assault of experience”,69 which, as I have already mentioned, according to Northrop Frye, constitutes the central concern of romance. Therefore, It’s a Wonderful Life can be considered a masterpiece of romance celebrating the triumph of life and renewal over sterility, wasteland and death.

68 69

Maland, Frank Capra, 138. Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism, 201.

CONCLUSION

In his Anatomy Of Criticism, Northrop Frye claims that romance, which in its various forms is nearest to the “wish-fulfilment dream”,1 never ceases to be topical and current. The reason for its timelessness, according to Frye, lies in the universal need of people to project their ideals into some form of romance, regardless of the age and epoch or the social or intellectual class they represent. Romantic heroes and beautiful heroines symbolise ideals and villains the deterioration of them. Frye argues that this pattern has been evident from the chivalric romance of the Middle Ages, continuing throughout Renaissance aristocratic romance, eighteenth century bourgeois romance and up to more contemporary Russian revolutionary romance. As Frye states: No matter how great a change may take place in society, romance will turn up again, as hungry as ever, looking for new hopes and desires to feed on. The perennially childlike quality of romance is marked by its extraordinarily persistent nostalgia, its search for some kind of imaginative golden age in time and space.2

Therefore, in the world of romance, the primary focus will be the heroes and villains and their mutual struggles reflecting the everlasting conflict between good and evil, innocence and experience. In my book, my aim has been to prove the presence of this sort of romantic nostalgia-and its Hollywood version-in the films of Frank Capra. Frye's claim that romance and its determinants are still valid and present in culture is evident also in the case of cinematic art which is why, despite their age, interest in Capra's films is not limited to the academic world and several of them remain perennial favourites. In order to prove the legitimacy of the thesis that Capra's filmic universe fulfils the condition of romance I have chosen seven films by the director and analysed them with regard to Frye's theory of the romantic mode. The analysis of romantic elements in Capra's pictures was preceded by establishing two categories“innocence” and “experience”-reflecting three comedy levels: paradisal, 1 2

Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism, 186. Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism, 186.

200

Conclusion

purgatorial and infernal which, according to Francesca Aran Murphy, were developed by Dante in his Divine Comedy. One might add that these categories make it possible to incorporate much of the latest criticism of Capra's work with their frequent reference to darker elements. In my book the category of “innocence” constitutes the counterpart of the Dantean paradisal level, while “experience” combines the purgatorial and infernal elements. “Innocence” is represented by three of Capra's comedies: Lady For A Day, You Can't Take It With You, and It Happened One Night. All of these films are examples of paradisal visionary comedies of light mood in which the villains are practically non-existent and the protagonists achieve their goals with little effort. The category of “experience” is represented by Capra's populist trilogy: Mr. Deeds Goes To Town, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, and Meet John Doe. In these films and category we encounter darkness, suffering, or even motives of suicidal death. These are the Quixotic or quest comedies, by the end of which the heroes always remain on the verge of achieving their goals. The above categorisation allows for viewing and interpreting Capra's films through the prism of what Frye considered to be the core of romance, namely struggles to maintain innocence in the world of experience.3 Such a division encompasses Dante's three realms of comic imagination, as well as echoeing Frye's concept of the mythic cycle, according to which romantic reality progresses from “death to rebirth, [from] darkness to a new dawn.”4 My last chapter is the exception to the pattern I have applied in the two preceding analytical chapters, as I have devoted it entirely to one film; Capra's masterpiece and the quintessence of romance, It's A Wonderful Life. The multilevel spatial and axiological structure, as well as the organisation of the world presented in the film, demands a complex analysis, which has resulted in the formulation of a thesis that the film combines all three of Dante's levels–paradisal, purgatorial and infernal– and as such not only constitutes a study of innocence and experience but also, by means of the construction of the protagonist and the way of building the plot, it can be viewed as the realisation of the complete mythic cycle from birth through death and up to the hero's rebirth. Capra's films chosen for this book represent Frye's romantic idea of an affirmation of life and its ultimate renewal. In the course of the films Capra's heroes of both categories have to undergo a transformation. However, in order to successfully achieve their aim, the protagonists are 3

Frye, Anatomy Of Criticism, 201. The concept was discussed in the second chapter of the dissertation. See Frye, A Natural Perspective, 121.

4

Songs of Innocence and Experience

201

submitted to a three-stage process: a dangerous journey, a climactic struggle against adversities (in the case of the “innocence” category) or the envoy of evil (in the case of the “experience” category), and final exaltation of the hero.5 Therefore, Capra's plot formula realises the Greek comedy stages of agon, pathos and anagnorsis, and in most cases concludes with a komos-like celebration of the victory of the fertile green world of ideals over sterility, darkness and death. Capra's protagonists display a noble character which provides them with heroic strength and the determination to fight for their ideals against all odds and obstacles. In contrast, the villains in Capra's universe are evil, merciless and unchanging. With the exception of the infernal comedies, the heroes are usually accompanied by helpers–faithful friends and goddess-like damsels-who are the source of the heroes' romantic passion and the reason for their will to keep on striving. Love is at the centre of Capra's romance. In accordance with Frye's paradigm, the romantic love of Capra's movies is a desire of the soul, having little to do with reason or the laws of logic. It comes unexpectedly and out of nowhere, dazzles, brings chaos and at first disintegrates the hero's world. In the end, however, romantic love constitutes a healing power and as such provides values worth living for. The romantic universe is a fantastic one, as Brill suggests. Nevertheless, even though in Capra's films we encounter neither talking animals nor fairy tale creatures, it is still the world of fantasy, where occasionally time restraints are loosened, angels come down to Earth in person, and the characters are able to cross the spatial boundaries and, like Dante, travel through the realms of the underworld. Notwithstanding the different mood of each type of comedy, Capra's ultimate message is one of optimism. His filmic universe, like The Divine Comedy, is about resurrection, renewal and victory over death. “I'm not interested in defeat”, Capra says, “Sure, [...] good hasn't taken over the earth. But neither has evil taken over the earth. And you shouldn't let it.”6 His romantic heroes–his Deeds, Smiths, and Baileys–all recognise and share this belief and their faith in higher values, morality, and everyday kindness provides them with the strength to be the warriors in service of ideals and “lost causes”. As Capra himself suggested, the source of his hopeful and optimistic perception of life can be expressed in Fra Giovanni’s utterance: “The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within reach, is joy. There is a radiance and glory in the darkness, 5 6

See Frye's concept of romance was discussed in the second chapter. Capra quoted in Schickel (ed.), The Men Who Made The Movies, 88.

202

Conclusion

could we but see, and to see we have only to look. I beseech you to look!”7 In the hectic times of ours, where people quite often seem to have forgotten these values, the optimistic moral of Capra’s movies once more begins to live and regain its meaning. As discussed in my book, Capra's films have influenced many films to this very day. However, it is probably true that they are their own best legacy. Modern critics seem to favour the currently fashionable noirrelated subjects and certainly, by means of studying and analysing the dark elements of Capra's films, they pay a due respect to the director and his art. However, these trends tend to ignore the comic aspect of Capra's movies which, as I have already pointed out, was one of the most vital goals of the director. Nevertheless, Capra is alive in the minds of his audience, about whose needs and appreciation he was always so concerned. Similarly, as at the time of the original releases of the films, today's audiences appreciate them for what they are: a sophisticated blend of comedy, romance and the dark noir elements. The reason for the films perennial popularity to a large measure can be found in Frye's myth-based concept of romantic reality.8 Such an almost archetypal world of romance, as presented in Capra's films, still remains an up-to-date vision and the contemporary audience still remains convinced by it.

7

Fra Giovanni quoted in Jeanine Basinger, The It’s A Wonderful Life Book (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1997), IX. 8 The concept was discussed in Chapter Two.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Agee, James. “It’s A Wonderful Life.” In Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, edited by Richard Glatzer and John Raeburn, pp. 157-159. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975. Arystoteles. Poetyka. Wrocáaw: Zakáad Narodowy im. OssoliĔskich, 1989. Auden, Wystan H. “The Quest Hero.” In Tolkien and the Critics, edited by Neil D. Isaacs and Rose A. Zimbardo, pp. 40-61. South Bend, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1968. Badal, Robert. Romance in Film. Volume 1: From the Silent Era to 1950. Torrance: Jalmar Press, 2001. Basinger, Jeanine. Introduction. In Frank Capra, The Name Above the Title. An Autobiography, pp. IX-XV. New York: Da Capo Press, 1997. —. It’s A Wonderful Life Book. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1997. Bellah, Robert N. “Religion and the Shape of National Culture.” America vol. 181, no. 3 (Jul/Aug 1999): 9-14. Bergman, Andrew. “Frank Capra and Screwball Comedy, 1931-1941.” In Film Theory and Criticism, edited by Gerald Mast and Marshall Cohen, pp. 761-777. New York: Oxford University Press, 1979. Blake, Richard A. Afterimage: The Indelible Catholic Imagination of Six American Filmmakers. Chicago: Loyola Press, 2000. —. Screening America: Reflections on Five Classic Films. Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1991. Bowman, Barbara. Master Space: Film Images of Capra, Lubitsch, Sternberg, and Wyler. New York: Greenwood Press, 1992. Bownam, James. “It Happened One Night: Introductory Remarks,” Ethics and Public Policy Center. Online January 16, 2013 at: http://www.eppc.org/publications/pubID.3433/pub_detail.asp. Braudy, Leo. The World in a Frame: What We See in Films. New York: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1976. Brill, Lesley. The Hitchcock Romance: Love and Irony in Hitchcock Films. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988. Brown, Stephen. “Optimism, Hope, and Feelgood Movies: The Capra Connection.” In Explorations in Theology and Film: Movies and Meaning, edited by Clive Marsh and Gaye Ortiz, pp. 219-232. Malden: Blackwell Publishers, 1997. Cahill, Marie. It’s A Wonderful Life: A Hollywood Classic. New York:

204

Bibliography

Smithmark Publishers, 1993. Capra, Frank. The Name Above the Title: An Autobiography. New York: Macmillan, 1971. Carney, Ray. American Vision: The Films of Frank Capra. Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1986. Carroll, Noël. A Philosophy of Mass Art. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998. —. “Film, Emotion, and Genre.” In Passionate Views: Film, Cognition, and Emotion, edited by Carl Plantiga and Greg M. Smith, pp. 21-47. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999. —. Filozofia horroru. Translated by Mirosáaw Przylipiak. GdaĔsk: sáowo/obraz terytoria, 2004. Costello, Matthew. “The Pilgrimage And Progress of George Bailey: Puritanism, It’s a Wonderful Life, and the Language of Community in America.” American Studies, vol. 40, no. 3 (Fall 99): 31-52. Coyne, Michael. Hollywood Goes to Washington: American Politics on Screen. London: Reaktion Books, 2008. Dafoe, Whitehead, Barbara. "A Nation in Debt." The American Interest Online, vol. 3, No. 6 (July-August 2008). Online January 16, 2013 at: http://www.the-american-interest.com/article.cfm?piece=458 Dante Alighieri. Boska komedia. Translated by Tomasz àubieĔski. Warszawa: Ludowa Spóádzielnia Wydawnicza, 1992. Dewey, Donald. James Stewart: A Biography. London: Warner Books, 2000. DiBattista, Maria. Fast-Talking Dames. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001. Dickens, Charles. The Christmas Books. London: Penguin Books, 1994. Dickstein, Morris. "Steinbeck and The Great Depression." In Blooms Modern Critical Views: John Steinbeck, edited by Harold Bloom. New York: Infobase Publishing, 2008. Durys, ElĪbieta, and Konrad Klejsa (ed.). Kino amerykaĔskie: Dzieáa. Kraków: Wydawnictwo Rabid, 2006. —. (ed.). Kino amerykaĔskie: Twórcy. Kraków: Wydawnictwo Rabid, 2006. Eitzen, Dirk. “Comedy and Classicism.” In Film Theory and Philosophy, edited by Richard Allen and Murray Smith, pp. 394-411. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997. Ferguson, Otis. “The Business of Promoting a Thesis: Four Reviews,” In Frank Capra. The Man and His Films, edited by Richard Glatzer and John Reaburn, pp. 101-109. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975. Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism. Princeton: Princeton University

Songs of Innocence and Experience

205

Press, 1957. —. A Natural Perspective. New York: Harcourt Brace&World, 1965. —. Secular Scripture: A Study of the Structure of Romance. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1976. Garbowski, Christopher. “Community and Comedy in Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life.” Logos. A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture, vol. 10, no. 3 (Summer 2007): 34-47. —. “It’s a Wonderful Life as Faërian Drama.” Mythlore: A Journal of J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, Charles Williams, and Mythopoeic Literature, vol. 23, no. 4 (Fall/Winter 2002): 38-48. —. Pursuits of Happiness: The American Dream Civil Society Religion and Popular Culture. Lublin: Maria Curie-Skáodowska University Press, 2008. Gehring, Wes D. Leo McCarey: From Marx to McCarthy. Lanham: The Scarecrow Press, 2005. —. Mr. Deeds Goes to Yankee Stadium. Baseball Films in the Capra Tradition. Jefferson: McFarland & Company, 2004. —. Populism and the Capra Legacy. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1995. —. Romantic vs. Screwball Comedy: Charting the Difference. Lanham: Scarecrow Press, 2002. —. The World of Comedy: Five Takes On Funny. Davenport: Robin Vincent Publishing, 2001. Gerrig, Richard J. and Deborah A. Prentice. “Notes On Audience Response.” In Post-Theory. Reconstructing Film Studies, edited by David Bordwell and Noël Carroll, pp. 388-406. Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1996. Girgus, Sam B. Hollywood Renaissance: The Cinema of Democracy in the Era of Ford, Capra, and Kazan. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Glatzer, Richard and John Raeburn (ed.). Frank Capra. The Man and His Films. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975. Glatzer, Richard. “Meet John Doe: An End To Social Myth Making.” In Frank Capra: The Man and His Films, edited by Richard Glatzer and John Raeburn, pp. 139-148. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975. Greeley, Andrew. The Catholic Imagination. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2001. Greene, Graham. "A Director of Genius: Four Reviews." In Frank Capra: The Man And His Films, edited by Richard Glatzer and John Raeburn, pp. 110-116. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975. Griffith, Richard. "It's A Wonderful Life and Post-War Realism." In Frank

206

Bibliography

Capra: The Man And His Films, edited by Richard Glatzer and John Raeburn, pp. 160-163. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975. Handzo, Stephen. "Under Capracorn." In Frank Capra: The Man And His Films, edited by Richard Glatzer and John Raeburn, pp. 164-176. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975. Hawkins, Jimmy, and Paul Peterson. The It’s a Wonderful Life Trivia Book. New York: Crown Publishers, 1992. Hellman, Geoffrey T. "Thinker In Hollywood." In Frank Capra: The Man And His Films, edited by Richard Glatzer and John Raeburn, pp. 3-13. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975. Helman, Alicja, and Jacek Ostaszewski. Historia myĞli filmowej. GdaĔsk: wydawnictwo sáowo/obraz terytoria, 2007. Jameson, Richard T. “The Lighthouse.” Film Comment, vol. 28 (Jan/Feb 1992): 24-27. Jamieson, Wendell. “Wonderful? Sorry, George, It’s a Pitiful, Dreadful Life.” New York Times, December 19, 2008. Online January 16, 2013 at: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/19/movies/19wond.html. Kasztelaniec, Beata, Jan F. Lewandowski, and Tadeusz Miczka. Stuletnia kronika kina. Rozmowy radiowe. Katowice: Videograf II, 1997. Katafiasz, Olga, and Joanna Wojnicka. Sáownik wiedzy o filmie. Bielsko Biaáa: Wydawnictwo Park, 2005. Kendall, Elizabeth. The Runaway Bride: Hollywood Romantic Comedy of the 1930s. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1990. King, Geoff. Film Comedy. London and New York: Wallflower Press, 2002. Krutnik, Frank. “Something More Than Night. Tales of the Noir City.” In The Cinematic City, edited by David B. Clarke, pp. 87-112. New York: Routledge,1997. Kupfer, Joseph H. Visions of Virtue in Popular Film. Boulder: Westview Press, 1999. Levy, Emanuel. Small-Town America in Film: The Decline and Fall of Community. New York: A Frederick Ungar Book, 1990. Lewandowski, Jan F. Wielkie kino. 150 filmów, które musisz zobaczyü. Katowice: Videograf II, 2006. Lincoln, Abraham. “Second Inaugural Address.” In The Norton Reader: An Anthology of Expository Prose, edited by Arthur M. Eastman, Caesar R. Blake, Hubert M. English, Jr., Alan B. Howes, Robert T. Lenaghan, Leo F. McNamara, James Rosier, 296-298. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1965. Lourdeaux, Lee. Italian and Irish Filmmakers in America: Ford, Capra,

Songs of Innocence and Experience

207

Coppola, and Scorsese. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1990. Maland, Charles. "Capra and the Abyss: Self-interest Versus the Common Good In Depression America." In Frank Capra: Authorship And The Studio System, edited by Robert Sklar and Vito Zagarrio, pp. 95-128. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998. —. “Frank Capra at Columbia: Necessity and Invention.” In Columbia Pictures: Portrait of the Studio, edited by Barnard F. Dick, pp. 70-88. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1992. —. Frank Capra. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1995. Mamet, David. “Crisis in Happyland.” Sight and Sound (January 2002). Online January 16, 2013 at: http://old.bfi.org.uk/sightandsound/feature/20. Mast, Gerald. The Comic Mind: Comedy and the Movies. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1979. McBride, Joseph. Frank Capra: The Catastrophe of Success. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993. McFarlane, Brian. Novel to a Film: An Introduction to the Theory of Adaptation. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. McGilligan, Pat. Introduction. In Six Screenplays by Robert Riskin, pp. XIII-IXVII. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1997. McMurrey, David. The Populist Romance: A Study Of Michelet’s Le Peuple And Selected Novels Of Hugo, James, Zola, And Galdos. University of Texas at Austin, 1980. Online January 16, 2013 at: http://www.prismnet.com/~hcexres/dissertation/diss_michelet.html. Mendelson Forman, Johanna. “Striking Out in Baghdad: How the Lessons of Post-conflict Reconstruction Went Awry” in Nation-building: Beyond Afghanistan and Iraq, edited by Francis Fukuyama. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005. Mortimer, Lorraine. “The Grim Enchantment of It’s A Wonderful Life” Massachusetts Review, vol. 36, no. 4 (Winter 95/96): 656-686. Munby, Jonathan. “A Hollywood Carol’s Wonderful Life.” In Christmas at the Movies: Images of Christmas in American, British and European Cinema, edited by Mark Connely, pp. 39-57. New York: I. B. Tauris Publishers, 2000. Murphy, Francesca Aran. Chapter 2: "The Human and the Divine Comedy." In Murphy The Comedy of Revelation. Paradise Lost and Regained in Biblical Narrative, pp. 1-28. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000. Nash, Ilana. American Sweethearts: Teenage Girls in Twentieth-Century Popular Culture. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2005. Nathanson, Paul. Over the Rainbow: The Wizard of Oz as a Secular Myth of America. New York: State University of New York Press, 1991.

208

Bibliography

Nelson, T. G. A. Comedy: An Introduction to Comedy in Literature, Drama, and Cinema. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990. Nichols, Mary P. “A Defense Of Popular Culture.” Academic Questions, vol. 13, no. 1 (Winter 1999-2000): 73-78. Nochimson, Martha P. “It Happened One Night.” Senses Of Cinema, vol. 12 (Feb-Mar 2001). Online January 16, 2013 at: http://sensesofcinema.com/2001/cteq/happened/. Ociepa, Krzysztof. "Ameryka New Dealu w stylu caprasque: Pan z milionami, Mr. Smith jedzie do Waszyngtonu i Obywatel John Doe Franka Capry." In Kino amerykaĔskie: Dzieáa, edited by ElĪbieta Durys and Konrad Klejsa, pp. 9-45. Kraków: Wydawnictwo Rabid, 2006. Ostrowska-Chmura, ElĪbieta. "Frank Capra–amerykaĔskie marzenia i koszmary." In Mistrzowie kina amerykaĔskiego: klasycy, edited by àukasz Plesnar and Rafaá Syska, pp. 181-207. Kraków: Rabid, 2006. Pechter, William S. "American Madness." In Frank Capra. The Man And His Films, edited by Richard Glatzer and John Raeburn, pp. 177-185. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1975. Perez, Gilberto. “Saying ‘Ain’t’ and Playing ‘Dixie’: Rhetoric and Comedy in Judge Priest.” Raritan, vol. 23, no. 4 (2004): 34- 54. Poague, Leland (ed.). Frank Capra: Interviews. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2004. —. “As You Like It and It Happened One Night: The Generic Pattern of Comedy.” Literature Film Quarterly, vol. 5 no.4 (Fall 1977): 346-350. —. Another Frank Capra. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. —. The Cinema of Frank Capra: An Approach to Film Comedy. South Brunswick and New York: A. S. Barnes and Company, 1973. Ray, Robert B. A Certain Tendency of the Hollywood Cinema, 1930-1980. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985. Reilly, R. J. “Tolkien And The Fairy Story.” In Understanding The Lord of the Rings edited by Rose A. Zimbardo and Neil D. Isaacs, pp. 93-105. New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. Saltzman, Joe. Frank Capra and the Image of the Journalist in American Film. Los Angeles: The Norman Lear Center USC, 2002. Saunders, D. J. M. “Capra's Corn?” Bright Lights Film Journal, No. 46 (November 2004). Online January 16, 2013 at: http://brightlightsfilm.com/46/46capra.php. Schaber, Bennet. “Hitler Can’t Keep ‘Em That Long.” In The Road Movie Book, edited by Steven Cohan and Ina Rae Hark, pp. 17-44. London: Routledge, 1998. Schickel, Richard. The Men Who Made The Movies: Interviews with Frank

Songs of Innocence and Experience

209

Capra, George Cukor, Howard Hawks, Alfred Hitchcock, Vincente Minnelli, King Vidor, Raul Walsh, and William A. Wellman. New York: Atheneum, 1975. Schneider, Martin. “It’s A Wonderful Life: Youth Is Wasted On The Wrong People!,” Metaphilm. See through Cinema. Online January 16, 2013 at: http://metaphilm.com/philm.php?id=216_0_2_0. Sklar, Robert and Vito Zagarrio (ed.). Frank Capra: Authorship and the Studio System. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998. Sklar, Robert. Movie Made America: A Cultural History of American Movies. New York: Vintage Books, 1994. Smoodin, Eric. Regarding Frank Capra: Audience, Celebrity, and American Film Studies. Durham: Duke University Press, 2005. Stachówna, GraĪyna. Wáadcy wyobraĨni. Sáawni bohaterowie filmowi. Kraków: Znak, 2006. Stewart, James. “Frank Capra’s Merry Christmas to All.” Reader’s Digest (1991): 81-85. Stott, Andrew. Comedy: The New Critical Idiom. London: Routledge, 2005. Sullivan, Daniel J. “Sentimental Hogwash? On Capra’s It’s A Wonderful Life.” Humanitas, vol. 18, No. 1/2 (2005): 115-140. Tatarkiewicz, Wáadysáaw. Historia filozofii, vol. 1. Warszawa: PaĔstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1970. Taylor, Charles. Etyka AutentycznoĞci. Kraków: Wydawnictwo Znak, 1996. —. Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2000. Thomson, David. Zrozumieü Hollywood. Translated by Zbigniew Niewojski. Warszawa: Wydawnictwo KsiąĪkowe Twój Styl, 2006. Truffaut, Francois. Hitchcock/Truffaut. Translated by Tadeusz Lubelski. Izabelin: ĝwiat Literacki, 2005. Vitoux, Frederic. “Harry Langdon i Frank Capra.” Translated by Ireneusz Dembowski. Film na ĝwiecie nr. 311 (1984): 55-63. Vitz, Paul C. "Psychology in Recovery." First Things, No. 151 (March 2005): 17-21. Walters, James. Alternative Worlds in Hollywood Cinema: Resonance Between Realms. Chicago: Intellect, 2008. Wartenberg, Thomas E. Unlikely Couples: Movie Romance as Social Criticism. Boulder: Westview Press, 1999. Willson, Robert. “Capra’s Comic Sense.” In Frank Capra: The Man and His Films, edited by Richard Glatzer and John Raeburn, pp. 83-98. Michigan: The University of Michigan Press, 1975.

210

Bibliography

Winokur, Mark. American Laughter: Immigrants, Ethnicity, and 1930s Hollywood Film Comedy. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996. Wolfe, Charles. “Meet John Doe: Authors, Audiences, and Endings.” In Meet John Doe. Frank Capra, Director, edited by Charles Wolfe, pp. 3-29. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1989. Zagarrio, Vito. "It Is (Not) A Wonderful Life: For A Counter-reading Of Frank Capra." In Frank Capra: Authorship And The Studio System, edited by Robert Sklar and Vito Zagarrio, pp. 64-95. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998.

SELECTED FILMOGRAPHY 1922 Fultah Fisher's Boarding House (Fireside Productions) Director: Frank Capra Producers: G. F. Harris and David Supple Screenplay: Walter Montague, based on Rudyard Kipling’s poem Photography: Roy Wiggins Cast: Mildred Owens, Ethan Allen, Olaf Skavian Ca. 12 minutes 1926 The Strong Man (First National) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Harry Langdon Screenplay: Hal Conklin, Robert Eddy, and Frank Capra, based on a story by Arthur Ripley Photography: Elgin Lessley, Glenn Kershner Cast: Harry Langdon, Priscilla Bonner, Gertrude Astor Ca. 78 minutes 1928 That Certain Thing (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Harry Cohn Screenplay: Elmer Harris Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Viola Dana, Ralph Graves, Burr McIntosh Ca. 69 minutes The Matinee Idol (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Harry Cohn Screenplay: Elmer Harris and Peter Milne, based on Robert Lord and Ernest S. Pagano's story “Come Back to Aaron” Photography: Philip Tannura Cast: Bessie Love, Johnnie Walker, Lionel Belmore Ca. 66 minutes

212

Selected Filmography

The Power Of The Press (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Jack Cohn Screenplay: Sonya Levien, based on a story by Frederick A. Thompson Photography: Chet Lyons Cast: Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Jobnya Ralston, Mildred Harris Ca. 62 minutes 1931 The Miracle Woman (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Harry Cohn Screenplay: Jo Swerling, based on the play “God Bless You, Sister” by John Meehan and Robert Riskin Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Barbara Stanwyck, David Manners, Sam Hardy, Beryl Mercer Ca. 87 minutes Platinum Blonde (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Harry Cohn Screenplay: Jo Swerling and Robert Riskin, based on a story by Harry Chandler and Douglas Churchill Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Loretta Young, Robert Williams, Jean Harlow, Walter Catlett, Halliwell Hobbes Ca. 90 minutes 1932 Forbidden (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Harry Cohn Screenplay: Jo Swerling, based on a story by Frank Capra Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Barbara Stanwyck, Adolphe Menjou, Ralph Bellamy, Dorothy Peteeson, Halliwell Hobbes Ca. 83 minutes American Madness (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Harry Cohn

Songs of Innocence and Experience

213

Screenplay: Robert Riskin, based on his story Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Walter Huston, Pat O'Brien, Kay Johnson, Constance Cummings, Sterling Holloway Ca. 76 minutes 1933 The Bitter Tea Of General Yen (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Harry Cohn Screenplay: Edward Paramore, based on a novel by Grace Zaring Stone Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Barbara Stanwyck, Nils Asther, Walter Connolly, Toshia Mori, Gavin Gordon, Ca. 89 minutes Lady For A Day ( Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Robert Riskin, based on a story “Madame La Gimp” by Damon Runyon Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Warren Williams May Robson, Guy Kibbee, Glenda Farrell, Walter Connolly, Jean Parker, Halliwell Hobbes Ca. 88 minutes 1934 It Happened One Night (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Robert Riskin, based on a story “Night Bus” by Samuel Hopkins Adams Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert, Walter Connolly, Roscoe Karns, Jameson Thomas, Ward Bond Ca. 105 minutes Broadway Bill (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Robert Riskin, based on a story by Mark Hellinger

214

Selected Filmography

Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Warner Baxter, Myrna Loy, Walter Connolly Clarence Muse, Raymond Walburn Margaret Hamilton, Douglas Dumbrille Ca. 90 minutes 1936 Mr. Deeds Goes To Town (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screeplay: Robert Riskin, based on a story “Opera Hat” by Clarence Budiongton Kelland Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Gary Cooper, Jean Arthur, Lionel Stander, Walter Catlett, Douglas Dumbrille, George Bancroft Ca. 115 minutes 1937 Lost Horizon (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Robert Riskin, based on a novel by James Hilton Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Ronald Colman, Jane Wyatt, Edward Everett Horton, Thomas Mitchell, John Howard, Thomas Mitchell, John Howard, H. B. Warner Ca. 118 minutes 1938 You Can't Take It With You (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Robert Riskin, based on George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart’s play Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: Jean Arthur, Lionel Barrymore, James Stewart, Edward Arnold, Spring Byington, Mischa Auer, Ann Miller, Dub Taylor, Samuel S. Hinds, Donald Meek, Halliwell Hobbes Ca. 127 minutes 1939 Mr. Smith Goes To Washington (Columbia Pictures) Director: Frank Capra

Songs of Innocence and Experience

215

Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Sidney Buchman, based on Lewis R. Foster's story “The Gentleman From Montana” Photography: Joseph Walker Cast: James Stewart, Jean Arthur, Claude Rains, Edward Arnold, Thomas Mitchell, Eugene Pallette, Guy Kibbee, Beulah Bondi, Poter Hall Ca. 125 minutes 1941 Meet John Doe (Warner’s) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Robert Riskin, based on a story by Richard Connell and Robert Presnell Photography: George Barnes Cast: Gary Cooper, Barbara Stanwyck, Edward Arnold, Walter Brennan, James Gleason Ca. 135 minutes 1942 Arsenic And Old Lace (Warner Brothers, release 1944) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Philip G. and Julius J. Epstein, based on Joseph Kesselring play Photography: Sol Polito Cast: Cary Grant, Priscilla Lane, Raymond Massey, Peter Lorre, Josephine Hull, Jean Adair, Edward Everett Horton, John Alexander Ca. 118 minutes “Why We Fight” Series (The War Department, The Army Pictorial Service 1942-1945): Part I: Prelude To War (1942) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Narration: Walter Huston Ca. 53 minutes Part II: The Nazis Strike (1943) Directors: Frank Capra, Anatole Litvak

216

Selected Filmography

Producer: Frank Capra Ca. 42 minutes Part III: Divide And Conquer (1943) Directors: Frank Capra, Anatole Litvak Producer: Frank Capra Ca. 58 minutes Part IV: The Battle Of Britain (1943) Director: Anthony Veiller Producer: Frank Capra Narration: Walter Huston, Anthony Veiller Ca. 54 minutes Part V: The Battle Of Russia (1944) Director: Anatole Litvak Producer: Frank Capra Narration: Walter Huston, Anthony Veiller Ca. 80 minutes Part VI: The Battle Of China (1944) Directors: Frank Capra, Anatole Litvak Procucer: Frank Capra Narration: Walter Huston, Anthony Veiller Ca. 64 minutes Part VII: War Comes To America (1945) Director: Anatole Litvak Producer: Frank Capra Narration: Walter Huston Anthony Veiller Ca. 70 minutes 1946 It's A Wonderful Life (Liberty Films) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Frances Goodrich, Albert Hackett, and Frank Capra, based on Philip Van Doren Stern's story “The Greatest Gift”. Additional scenes Jo Swerling Photography: Joseph Walker and Joseph Biroc Cast: James Stewart, Donna Reed, Lionel Barrymore, Thomas Mitchell,

Songs of Innocence and Experience

217

Henry Travers, Beulah Bondi, Ward Bond, Frank Faylen, Gloria Graham, H. B. Warner, Todd Karns, Samuel S. Hinds, Tom Fadden Ca. 129 minutes 1948 State Of The Union (Liberty Films) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Anthony Veiller and Myles Connolly, based on a story by Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse Photography: George J. Folsey Cast: Spencer Tracy, Katharine Hepburn, Van Jonson, Angela Lansbury, Adolphe Menjou, Charles Lane, Irving Bacon Ca. 121 minutes 1950 Riding High (Paramount) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Robert Riskin, Melville Shavelson, and Jack Rose, based on Mark Hellinger's story (remake of Capra's 1934 film “Broadway Bill”) Photography: George Barnes and Ernest Laszlo Cast: Bing Crosby, Coleen Gray, Charles Bickford, William Demarest, Raymond Walburn, Margaret Hamilton, James Gleason Ca. 112 minutes 1951 Here Comes The Groom (Paramount) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Virginia Van Upp, Liam O’Brien, Myles Connolly based on a story by O'Brien and Robert Riskin Photography: George Barnes and Farciot Edouart Cast: Bing Crosby, Jane Wyman, Alexis Smith, Franchot Tone, James Barton, Robert Keith Ca. 113 minutes Bell System Science Series (Frank Capra Productions, 1956-1957): Number I: Our Mr. Sun (1956) Director: Frank Capra

218

Selected Filmography

Producer: Frank Capra Script: Frank Capra Photography: Harold Wellman Animation: United Productions Of America Number II: Hemo The Magnificent (1957) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Script: Frank Capra Photography: Harold Wellman Animation: Shamus Culhane Productions Number III: The Strange Case Of The Cosmic Rays (1957) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Script: Frank Capra, Jonathon Latimer Photography: Harold Wellman, Ellis Carter Animation: Shamus Culhane Productions 1959 A Hole In The Head (United Artists) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Arnold Schulman based on his play Photography: William H. Daniels Cast: Frank Sinatra, Edward G. Robinson, Eddie Hodges, Eleanor Parker, Carolyn Jones, Keenam Wynn, Thelma Ritter Ca. 120 minutes 1961 Pocketful Of Miracles (United Artists) Director: Frank Capra Producer: Frank Capra Screenplay: Hal Kanter and Harry Tugend, based on screenplay “Lady For A Day” by Robert Riskin, and the short story “Madam La Gimp” by Damon Runyon Photography: Robert Bronner Cast: Glenn Ford, Bette Davis, Hope Lange, Peter Falk, Thomas Mitchell, Edward Everett Horton, Ann-Margaret, Snub Pollard, Benny Rubin, Doodles Weaver Ca. 136 minutes