Inherit the Wind (1960)

Inherit the Wind (Stanley Kramer, 1960) I'm of a liberal frame of mind, which, if you take it as a true meaning, means that you are open to new ideas—even conservative ones. I know this may sound heretical to some and pollyannaish to others, but that's okay. It's my frame of mind, nobody has to picture it but me, though I may hang.

But, there are some movies with a liberal bent that just chap my hide and this Stanley Kramer film of Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee's 1955 fictionalized play (adapted by Nedrick Young and Harold Jacob Smith) about the Scopes Trial that centered on whether evolution could be taught in schools is one of them.

I say "fictionalized" because it does not feature Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan (who argued on both sides in the 1925 Scopes Trial), but "Henry Drummond" (played in the film by Spencer Tracy) and "Matthew Harrison Brady" (played in the film by Fredric March) as court-opponents. Heck, John T. Scopes is named "Bertram Cates" (and played by, let's face it, the simian-looking Dick York) and "E.K. Hornbeck" (played by Gene Kelly) is a stand-in for H.L. Mencken. 

Do a comparison of the trial's events and the play and you'll find so many deviations and fabrications and omissions (did you know that Bryan offered to play Scopes' fine if convicted?) that you begin to wonder if the game is rigged. It is, and the authors defended that by saying they weren't doing a dramatization of events (no, no, no, no!), but the play as a metaphor for McCarthyism and social "thought control."

But, an audience might be convinced that what they're seeing is how things ...evolved.

First off, the Scopes Trial was a sham. The issue was The Butler Act, not evolution. A court can't decide on the validity of scientific theory, but can question the constitutionality of laws regarding free speech and public schools.
The Butler Act said, in part: "That it shall be unlawful for any teacher in any of the Universities, Normals and all other public schools of the State which are supported in whole or in part by the public school funds of the State, to teach any theory that denies the Story of the Divine Creation of man as taught in the Bible, and to teach instead that man has descended from a lower order of animals." Joseph W. Butler was a Tennessee State Rep and a member of the World Christian Fundamentals Association who'd heard that (no doubt "from a lotta people") that kids were coming home from school telling their parents that the Bible was bunk.

The ACLU wanted a test case. Scopes, a substitute science and math teacher agreed to be the defendant when asked by Dayton business leaders—prominently George Rappleyea—to test the law, believing it would bring a lot of publicity to Dayton. Remember that. Butler's Law had one big thorn in it. Tennessee public school teachers were required to use a textbook, Hunter's "Civil Biology", which had a chapter on evolution. In other words, if a science/biology teacher did their job using that required text, they'd be violating the Butler Act. Rock meet Hard Place. But, Scopes—after some initial reluctance agreed saying "If you can prove that I've taught evolution and that I can qualify as a defendant, then I'll be willing to stand trial."

Scopes couldn't remember if he'd actually taught evolution, but coached students to say he did in order for an indictment to be made. When the gran jury recommended trial, the prosecutors—who were friends of Scopes'—reached out to Bryan—who had been very vocal in his support of the Butler Act to join their team. Bryan, never the shyest of men, agreed, although credit for the request went to the head of the WCFA. The defense reached out to Darrow, who initially refused so as to keep the whole thing from becoming a circus, but as it was becoming one, anyway, accepted. 

"The trial," (such as it was) was broadcast on radio, with witnesses for evolutionary theory blocked, prejudicial instructions from the judge and a completely unnecessary debate between Bryan and Darrow on the last day because Bryan, believing he'd been one-upped by the defense's arguments regarding the Bible (the jury did not hear them because the judge excused them from that part of the defense's case, pending dismissing that part of the testimony) wanted the last word. The thing was, he was being questioned by Darrow and that last, seventh day of the trial (held outdoors because of the stifling heat) devolved into arguments and was finally gavelled finished by the judge.

Ultimately, the jury found Scopes guilty, he was charged a $100 fine by the judge and the verdict was overturned on appeal by a technicality. That technicality being inherent in the Butler Act, itself: the judge fined Scopes $100 as per the tenets of the Butler Act, but Tennessee judges under the state constitution could not charge fines more than $50, only juries could. And that was the end of the Scopes Trial. The Butler Act was repealed in 1967.

Inherit the Wind would have you believe that the judge only fined Scopes $100 out of political expediency and because he didn't want to give the town any publicity. But, publicity is what the whole trial was about and its purpose for being. And the film also makes its Darrow stand-in so warm-and-fuzzy and tolerant about the Bible that it runs afoul of Darrow's attitude throughout the trial. The movie's theme is "(Gimme That) Old Time Religion," but it should have been "Kumbaya."

Inherit the Wind is a plea for tolerance merely, but to see it as anything more runs afoul of everything about the actual incidents as they took place in 1925, incidents that were staged and manipulated for maximum exposure and cotton candy sales, as real and as truthful as a television reality show. To further compound it by fictionalizing it is to lend it a credence that it never had and a relevancy that it never achieved...for either side.

Where do I stand on the evolution debate—not that that is what Inherit the Wind is about? Well, I'm more scientifically prejudiced towards the evolution side—frankly, I prefer my flu shots to be the current, robustly effective ones than a ten year old variety that will do nothing against a flu-strain that has evolved beyond the ability for that vaccine to kill it.

But, then, I've always liked Stanley Kubrick's "take" on the idea, as expressed in 2001: a Space Odyssey (about to hit its fifty-second anniversary next month), which took the question of "were we created by a god, or, did we evolve, naturally, over time as the fittest survivors?" and came up with the answer "in a Universe of possibilities, why can't it be a little bit of both?"

Judgment at Nuremberg

Judgment at Nuremberg (Stanley Kramer, 1961) It was Katharine Hepburn who shepherded this film from its origins as an episode of "Playhouse 90"* to this version as a three hour epic.** The movie is padded with shots of Spencer Tracy touring the city (still in rubble in 1960, twelve years after the judges trials at Nuremberg***), and background of the characters, including a chaste meeting of minds with a Nazi widow (Marlene Dietrich, still oozing mystery at the age of 60). Screenwriter Abby Mann makes the citizenry complicit in his expanded screenplay, despite their protestations of ignorance. And the military at the time of the trial was in the middle of the Berlin Airlift, their attention now turned to "the Bolsheviks" and cozying up to Germany for strategic advantage, casting the worth and even the result of the trial in question for political expediency. The movie is allowed much more cynicism than the Playhouse 90 broadcast, where the words "gas chambers" were subject to censorship by sponsor The American Gas Association.

The movie threatens to swamp itself with star-power but leavened it by Tracy disappearing into his role. Maximilian Schell repeats his television performance (winning an Oscar in the process, as did Mann for his adaptation). Of the newcomers, the best performances are Montgomery Clift in face and body language denoting a characters damaged by the brutality of the Nazi regime. And Judy Garland, who'd always seemed like a raw nerve in her films, acts merely from the neck up—and that's all that's required. Not as controlled are Richard Widmark, whose prosecutor is a bit too demonstrative in private for a courtroom strategist, and Burt Lancaster, given a great speech but, a weakness of the actor, aware of it. Laurence Olivier was intended to play German Ernst Janning, but dropped out. I'm not sure that would have been an improvement, but it would have been interesting.

Kramer struggles with the material; he would later become an expert on courtroom directing. But here, he's more intent on making the drama look interesting with camera moves by circling witnesses and, most egregiously, using a fast zoom to zero in on a dramatic moment. It's used sparingly, but even that's too much for the material. He would learn to trust his actors and inherent drama of the scene to carry it.

But, Judgement at Nuremberg manages to be something that eludes most Kramer films—it's a bit more timeless, especially in regards to the short-sightedness of chipping away at bedrock principles for today's political viability and the future's further erosion. One could be speaking of water boarding as torture in Abby Mann's summation speech.

****

Read it. Read the whole thing. But linger on the words after the picture below.

Judge Haywood: The trial conducted before this Tribunal began over eight months ago. The record of evidence is more than ten thousand pages long, and final arguments of counsel have been concluded.

Simple murders and atrocities do not constitute the gravamen of the charges in this indictment. Rather, the charge is that of conscious participation in a nationwide, government organized system of cruelty and injustice in violation of every moral and legal principle known to all civilized nations. The Tribunal has carefully studied the record and found therein abundant evidence to support beyond a reasonable doubt the charges against these defendants.

Herr Rolfe, in his very skillful defense, has asserted that there are others who must share the ultimate responsibility for what happened here in Germany. There is truth in this. The real complaining party at the bar in this courtroom is civilization. But the Tribunal does say that the men in the dock are responsible for their actions, men who sat in black robes in judgment on other men, men who took part in the enactment of laws and decrees, the purpose of which was the extermination of humans beings, men who in executive positions actively participated in the enforcement of these laws -- illegal even under German law. The principle of criminal law in every civilized society has this in common: Any person who sways another to commit murder, any person who furnishes the lethal weapon for the purpose of the crime, any person who is an accessory to the crime -- is guilty.

Herr Rolfe further asserts that the defendant, Janning, was an extraordinary jurist and acted in what he thought was the best interest of this country. There is truth in this also. Janning, to be sure, is a tragic figure. We believe he loathed the evil he did. But compassion for the present torture of his soul must not beget forgetfulness of the torture and the death of millions by the Government of which he was a part. Janning's record and his fate illuminate the most shattering truth that has emerged from this trial: If he and all of the other defendants had been degraded perverts, if all of the leaders of the Third Reich had been sadistic monsters and maniacs, then these events would have no more moral significance than an earthquake, or any other natural catastrophe. But this trial has shown that under a national crisis, ordinary -- even able and extraordinary -- men can delude themselves into the commission of crimes so vast and heinous that they beggar the imagination. No one who has sat at through trial can ever forget them: men sterilized because of political belief; a mockery made of friendship and faith; the murder of children. How easily it can happen.

There are those in our own country too who today speak of the "protection of country" -- of "survival." A decision must be made in the life of every nation at the very moment when the grasp of the enemy is at its throat. Then, it seems that the only way to survive is to use the means of the enemy, to rest survival upon what is expedient -- to look the other way.

Well, the answer to that is "survival as what?" A country isn't a rock. It's not an extension of one's self. It's what it stands for. It's what it stands for when standing for something is the most difficult!

Before the people of the world, let it now be noted that here, in our decision, this is what we stand for: justice, truth, and the value of a single human being.

* if you want to see it, it is here. 

 

** Probably to give her love and paramour Spencer Tracy another plumb acting role. His health (owing to his tendency to drink to excess) was always improved when he was working.

*** Although shots of Richard Widmark driving through the city are obvious process shots.

**** William Shatner's sitting in front of Tracy. Tracy was Shatner's hero and when he saw Tracy do the speech in one take, he blurted "I didn't know film actors could DO that!" Tracy shunned him for the rest of the shoot.

The Pride and the Passion

The Pride and the Passion (Stanley Kramer, 1957) Not the easiest production to direct with all the backstage drama going on, but Kramer did his best to keep this adaptation of a C.S. Forester* novel picturesque and fulfill his duties to the studio, United Artists.

You can't go too far without mentioning the casting. The story takes place during the Napoleonic wars and the attempts of a British captain (Cary Grant) to take possession of an outsized discarded cannon before it can be seized by Napoleon. His orders take him to a Spanish guerilla, Miguel (Frank Sinatra) who has a personal aim to capture the town of Avila from the French...and the cannon would be a loud and persuasive way of doing so. While the two men grouse at each other about their differing missions and the logistics of getting a huge hulking cannon across rolling hills and across rivers to their respective targets, they also compete for the affections of Juana (Sophia Loren), a Spanish dancer and Miguel's mistress.

Grant's captain is familiar with the cannon and its capabilities, firepower and the precise means of producing its full potential without it blowing up in people's faces, whereas Miguel doesn't have a clue about what to do with it, merely with its promise of how such an ultimate weapon can be used against French battlements. But, both men need the other, and it is just as well to get it to Avila as to keep it out of French hands. And if it can be used against them...well, so much the better.

One could make a point about cannon envy here as there is a lot of pointless bickering over who's the alpha male and whose aims have priority, despite the fact that neither man can accomplish their personal missions alone, and Juana is just a representation of both men's single-minded and covetous natures underneath the brio and the sense of duty. Loren is basically an ornament here, as she was in too many films that didn't know what to do with her.

Now, Grant "works", maybe—he was, after all, British, and when did he not work?—but he was never at his best in historical parts, always more comfortable as a man of his times, no matter what his age. But Sinatra as a Spanish loyalist? And Sophia Loren, as well? It was Loren's first role in English, so any burbling of lines is understandable. But Sinatra, as good as he can be in other films, is horrible here, with a terrible kind of "Jou Gringko" accent. And it's apparent that he's marking time and not going for an Oscar this time.

I've never been one for gossip, but The Pride and the Passion was very much a project of other interests for the stars than picking up a pay-check. The troika of stars seem very distracted: Grant by Loren with whom he would fall in love, and Sinatra because he only took the job to be close to Ava Gardner who was filming The Sun Also Rises in Spain. That did not go well, and Sinatra decided to go back to the States, asking Kramer to get his scenes taken care of early to do so. How this affected the finished product is hard to say, but Kramer seems to be doing his best work where the stars aren't involved, making far better use of statues and architecture and crowd set-pieces than his above-the-title players.

And that's where the movie is at its most fascinating and more succesfful, far more than the squabbling in the love-triangle which doesn't generate any real sparks, positively or negatively. But, the challenges of that big old hurking cannon and moving it through unforgiving open country and unrelenting French forces make for interesting location filming and viewing (and, in particular, one overnight hiding of the cannon in a city's least likely location) and makes The Pride and the Passion rise above the conventional issues raised among the human actors...rather odd in a war film, where the human aspects usually are of the most importance. I don't think they planned it that way.

* Quick reference: Forester wrote the "Horatio Hornblower" books and the novel on which The African Queen was based.  Hollywood was paying attention to him during the 1950's.

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (Roy Rowland, 1953) Marvelously odd-ball, bizarre fantasy film for kids that's as much fun for adults, and has the added benefit of a crazed performance by Hans Conreid and a script, songs and design (after a fashion) the eccentric Theodore Geisel, whose nom de plume was Dr. Seuss. Seuss was a definite, defiant genius,* in that he maintained throughout his complicated adulthood, the simplistic child-view, with all its neurotic simplicity, the well-ordered conservative traditionalism, swirled with a wildly anarchistic streak.

Dr. T is a bit like The Wizard of Oz in that it's a vividly imagined fever-dream that reflects the real world pureed in eye-popping colors and shapes through a child's trauma filter. For Dorothy Gale, it's brought on by familial stress instigated by head-trauma. For Bartholomew Collins (Tommy Rettig), it's familial stress instigated by exhaustion created by piano drills imposed by the unholy alliance of his mother (Mary Healy) and his music teacher, the snooty Dr. Terwilliker (Conreid). The kid's got no allies, save for his dog, the audience—whom he regularly addresses—and the local plumber, Mr. Zabladowski (Peter Lind Hayes), whom he respects for his control over his life and his ability to fix stuff—fixing stuff is important when you're a kid seeing the world broken. Bart sums up his predicament for us, then falls into a horrific exhausted slumber, where he pictures himself the lone victim in the machinations of Dr. T, secluded in his impossibly architectured institute, the first specimen in a regimented experiment to lead a slave-team of 500 kids to realize his ultimate composition.  

Bart hides in plain sight in T's complex—making him look bug-like and squashable

For Bart, the job is simple: get out of the castle, rescue his mother (who is in thrall to the Professor as his assistant) and barring any escape, sabotage the Doctor's magnum opus. 

It may be the weirdest, most enjoyable leftist agenda movie that producer Stanley Kramer ever produced (even over It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World), If.... without machine guns, creating a passive-aggressive (through a "very atomic" silence producer) explosion of revolt to decimate the forces of regimentation and create a nuclear family out of the resulting chaos. Even if Bart can't escape his lot, he can at least do some damage in it, and make it work to his advantage. Sounds like any skill-set a kid would, should, and could have use of.  

Bart climbs to the top of an impossible ladder, only to be found out by a searchlight.

Regimentation and the individual's right to be one's self—by any means necessary—is the story's theme, one that runs throughout Geisel's work through various guises and creatures. And even though Dr. T's denizens are fairly standard bi-ped's, the universe of Bart's Dr. T nightmares is one of wrong angles with no standard rules of design—a free-flowing construction, in danger of collapsing in on itself, even without a kid's help. The songs are fine, the language is wonderful, and the acting whimsical and uneven, but, who cares?  It's the LOOK of the thing that creates the magic of the film, and makes it recognizable, along with some peripheral like the freakish "happy-hands"-beanies the kids are forced to wear, as Geisel...or, rather, Seussian.

Geisel thought little of the film, either because he thought the product compromised, or because the response to it was lackluster to the extreme. And kid-star Tommy Rettig went on to become the first "Timmy" on the Lassie TV show, an unpromising career with drugs, but ended strong by becoming a pre-eminent software programmer, specializing in DBaseIII. All of which seems rather Seussian, as well.

Dr. Terwilliker's castle is full of oddities and Gehrey-esque angles

* For example, he labeled the film a "debaculous fiasco."