My Man Godfrey

Turner Classic Movies' Star of the Month is William Powell, who seems to have fallen out of the consciousness and discussion of Great Hollywood Actors. I will avail myself of seeing a bunch of his films, as I've always found him astonishingly creative and real.

My Man Godfrey (Gregory LaCava, 1936)  Bill Powell isn't given nearly enough credit in Hollywood history.

Popular in his day, he worked just enough to maintain his reputation and dignity, then retired and kept to himself. But you watch him in something like My Man Godfrey—a not quite screwball comedy of the "The Rich, They are a Peculiar Lot" school—and you see him stretch a little bit, and definitely see him playing a different character than the familiar Powell persona (even an extended drunk scene is played differently than his pleasantly soused Nick Charles from the "Thin Man" series), but still retains that measure of insinuation that took every line of dialogue and made it spin on its heels. His character, Godfrey Pike, starts out as a bum living in a dump underneath the Brooklyn Bridge, where he's picked up by socialite-heads as part of a charity scavenger hunt for the idle rich.

He attracts the attention of Irene Bullock (Carole Lombard, formerly Mrs. Powell) probably because he's different, a genuine "find," and he does stick out like a sore, if well-manicured, sore thumb among the derelicts. Articulate and dignified, he's quietly worldly-wise, politely sarcastic (neat trick to pull off, that) and keeps a cool eye on the rich partiers for whom he's an oddity, a curiosity—like watching a car wreck—and slightly discounted, although he's  probably better than all of them as a human being. Mentored by Irene, he assumes a position as a gentleman-butler for her family, a job that's bested a steady stream of other men. But he does the job well, keeping his opinions to himself, the most sane man in a palatial asylum.

And an asylum it is, with the father (the foghorn-voiced Eugene Pallette, staple of Capra comedies) the only one with any sense (or schedule), and who has long given up on his family making any steps to adulthood. Mother (Alice Brady) is a drama queen, who can only be distracted by her protege Carlo (Mischa Auer) and other daughter Cornelia (Gail Patrick) has to fill her empty life with schemes and conspiracies.

But Irene is a dreamer. In Godfrey, she finds a competent supplement, practical, in marked contrast to her flibbertigibbet, caring to her carelessness.

Such a creature, alien to her environment, makes her fall in love with the old boy, while he still tries to make his way through Society, and back to the life he has previously abandoned.

It's all high-style and fast-paced. And even though Lombard's society gal is a comic cry-baby notched up to "11" on a scale of "10," she is leavened somewhat by the tolerating, sly performance by Powell—who insisted that Lombard, his ex-wife, get the part.

Powell was the epitome of well-mannered play-acting, while never, ever betraying a dull moment. He made style which—when done in the hands of amateurs can look confining—seem effortless, while also being insouciant, and fun.

The History of John Ford: Young Mr. Lincoln

Running parallel with our series about Akira Kurosawa ("Walking Kurosawa's Road"), we're going to start running a series of pieces about the closest thing America has to Kurosawa in artistry—director John Ford. Ford rarely made films set in the present day, but (usually) made them about the past...and about America's past, specifically (when he wasn't fulfilling a passion for his Irish roots). In "The History of John Ford" we'll be gazing fondly at the work of this American Master, who started in the Silent Era, learning his craft, refining his director's eye, and continuing to work deep into the 1960's (and his 70's) to produce the greatest body of work of any American "picture-maker.".

Young Mr. Lincoln (John Ford, 1939) Essential "John Ford at Fox" movie about the "jack-legged country lawyer" who would become the 16th President at the time of the nation's sundering. The film is filled to the bursting with fore-shadowing, from Abe playing "Dixie" on a jew's harp to encountering Stephen Douglas and Mary Todd to the penultimate shot of him striding up a storm-tossed hill lit by lightning (more on that later). Henry Fonda, heel-lifted, stiff-gated and nose-puttied plays Abe with a slow "drawrl" and far-away look, the film concentrating on the young Lincoln's learning and early practice of the law in Springfield, Illinois. Along the way he's haunted by the loss of his first love, Anne Rutledge and takes part in a murder case involving an angelic country family that stirs up feelings of home. Ford has a fine time skewering the pomposity of trial proceedings and the airs of high society.

The film is a prime example of the emotional mood swings that energized Ford's films.

But it also showcases the director's eye for composition and use of Nature to reinforce story points. For example, there's this early scene where Abe and Anne tentatively express feelings. Anne is friendly with Abe, while he is tragically smitten. Ford frames them by a river where a great tree forms an arch extending from Anne and branches out to barely graze Abe.
The scene will end with Lincoln walking under that arch, alone, and throwing a rock into that swiftly-flowing river, its ripples starting a transition in time that will show the river clogged with ice, and a graveyard containing Anne's grave. In the background, a yearning violin piece serves as "her" theme, but also, generally, of memory and loss, as it keeps coming back throughout the film (23 years later, Ford would use it again in the same context in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.)

And there's no denying the power of that almost-final shot (a more obvious studio shot serves as the last one, followed by Lincoln Memorial views) of Lincoln's film-ending hill-climb "goin' on a-piece." The bordering fence forming a barricade and the huge sky rumbling with thunder. It's one of the most beautiful representations of Destiny ever committed to film, from the film-laureate of History and nostalgia with a painter's eye and a poet's command of metaphor.