Round three...and a change...

...I'm changing the rules.  I'm allowed. This is my toy.

I realized, when watching "Taxi Driver" again, that I had more thoughts than could be summed up quickly in a readable blog post.  Let's face it, the last chapter of this quest, by my own admission, was too much to expect anyone to read in one sitting.  If I'm going to write that much, I cannot expect you to read reviews of 5 films at a time.  I understand "Too Long/Didn't Read."  So.  I reserve the right to change, and I am.  There is no waiting on publishing these.  I'm still running the list in groups of 5 films I haven't seen, 10 I have, etc.; but I'm not going to wait until I'm through that many to publish.  I may do it after each, I may do it after 3, 4, 5 or 10.  I'm leaning towards doing each film, but again, I reserve the right to change my mind.   Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be to find another 89 suitable MST3K images?

This review is also lightly edited.  Not thoroughly, but this is not entirely stream of conscience.  (EDIT:  I threw in this sentence, for example)

SO. I'm watching the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.  I'm writing about my thoughts on them.  You can scroll back to find other installments.  Rules are here.

Film 11

11.  "Sullivan's Travels" (AFI Rank #61)
I watched a really terrific film last night.  It's probably one you haven't heard of, starring a couple of the dimmer glowing stars from Hollywood's past.  Maybe that's not fair.  It's probably one you haven't heard of, starring a couple of movie stars from Hollywood's past who aren't 21st Century household names.  Yeah, that's better.

Released in December 1941, just as the U.S. entered WWII, and right at the tail end of the Great Depression, I cannot imagine how this might have played to an audience still neck deep in what was current to them, but we now regard as major historical events.

The film opens with a dedication:

Directed by Preston Sturges, "Sullivan's Travels" first scene gets us, quite literally, with a bang.  We see two men struggling on the top of a train, fighting and trying desperately to kill each other.  I thought I had signed up for a comedy.  Eventually, we see both men plummet from the train and into a river, just as the words "The End" are superimposed on the picture.  We then realize that we have been watching a preview of a new film by director John L. Sullivan (played by Joel McCrea), our protagonist.  He explains to the studio chiefs watching the film with him that the two struggling humans were representative of Labor and Capital, and that their struggle winds up destroying them both. We are shown a portrait of a director who obviously has a grip on the times, and one who understands the plight of common man.

Or were we shown that?

In the dizzyingly fast paced long-take scene that follows, we get the set up to the rest of the film.  John L. Sullivan wants to make a new picture called "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" (gee, that sounds familiar)  He believes that what people need is to be made aware of the plight of those people who are dying in the streets.  His bosses ask him what he knows about trouble.  They point out that he has been spoiled and coddled his entire adult life, and that he doesn't have any idea what anyone in the street goes through.  Sullivan agrees, and is inspired to go on a quest to find out what real life is all about, and how real people live.  He decides to go to wardrobe, get some hobo clothes, and set off to inspiration.

As Sullivan is about to leave, we have a terrific scene with his butler, in which we get the following exchange:

John L. Sullivan: I'm going out on the road to find out what it's like to be poor and needy and then I'm going to make a picture about it.

Burrows: If you'll permit me to say so, sir, the subject is not an interesting one. The poor know all about poverty and only the morbid rich would find the topic glamorous.

John L. Sullivan: But I'm doing it for the poor. Don't you understand?

Burrows: I doubt if they would appreciate it, sir. They rather resent the invasion of their privacy, I believe quite properly, sir. Also, such excursions can be extremely dangerous, sir. I worked for a gentleman once who likewise, with two friends, accoutered themselves as you have, sir, and then went out for a lark. They have not been heard from since.

It's a great scene, and brilliantly illustrates the theme of the rest of the film.

Just as he is about to leave, Sullivan is again greeted by the studio executives, who tell him, fine, you may go on your little quest, but you are taking a land yacht (really, really well appointed bus) and a group of observers/servants with you, including a doctor.  They will follow you, and you will do as they say.  Otherwise, we're suing you.

So, the righteous John L. Sullivan begins his epic journey to show America just how awful it is to be poor.  He starts walking, dressed in shabby clothes, followed by a bus full of people tasked with taking care of him about 50 feet behind him.  Eventually, Sullivan is able to hitch a ride with a kid in a homemade vehicle, who speeds ahead of the bus, until both vehicles wind up stopped in a field.   Sullivan gets out and asks the followers to give him two weeks, please, and he'll meet them in Las Vegas.  For some reason, all the people on the bus agree to it (still haven't figured THAT out), and Sullivan is left to go on his way.  He shacks up in a widow's home, whose intentions for Sullivan are less than pure. There is some very good comedy with a portrait of the widow's late husband whose expression keeps changing, but our hero escapes.  He hitches a ride in a truck...and winds up back in Hollywood.

Down on his luck (although admittedly in a town where he wields some major influence), he meets a girl (played by Veronica Lake) who offers to buy him a ham and eggs breakfast.  He strikes up conversation with her, and we learn that she is a girl who came to Hollywood seeking fame and fortune, but her fame and fortune hourglass has run out, and she's headed home.  Sullivan, ever the big-hearted person, offers to repay her for the breakfast, and help her get home.  He then goes and grabs his own car, saying that it is a friend's, and starts to drive her to Chicago.  In the course of events, he forgets to leave a note for the staff that he has taken the car, and he is chased down by the police, and thrown in jail for stealing the car.  His dutiful butler and valet show up, identify him, and his ruse is exposed to the girl.

Undeterred, and after a swim, a good meal, and a night in his palatial home, he asks her if she wishes to join him on his quest.  He sets off again, this time riding the rails, and winds up in Las Vegas, right at the diner where he was supposed to arrive and meet his caretakers in the land yacht, right on schedule.  Dude just can't find real life, no matter how hard he tries.

The story progresses from here, the girl and Sullivan finally getting to see some truly down and out people, sleep in shelters, eat in soup kitchens, shack up in shanty towns, etc.  After a bit of this, Sullivan decides he's seen enough, and decides that he will give away $10,000 of his own money to some of the people he's met, $5 at a time.  One of the recipients decides he needs more, so he rolls Sullivan, taking his money and leaving him unconscious in a boxcar.  This man is run over by a train, and many believe, given the money at the scene, along with a piece of identity that the man had on him, and the state of his unidentifiable corpse, that Sullivan has died.

I don't want to give away the last act, and I've written far more exposition than I should, but Sullivan discovers what it truly means to be in trouble.  He is alone, with amnesia, and left in jail.  One night, he and his fellow inmates go to a church, where they are shown a Disney film, and Sullivan learns what the poor really need.  Ready to rejoin society, he devises a rather ingenious plot to get his identity back, and we get a happy ending.

NOW.  I've given away a lot of the story.  I think that is probably because I don't believe a lot of you have seen this film, and I want you to get a firm grip on what you will experience.  I'm trying to sell it.  Maybe I, too, am trying to wrap my head around it.

So.  What are my thoughts?  Preston Sturges is right on, and made this film to show people just how right on he was.  There are any number of people who are capable of holding a mirror to society, without really having any idea what that mirror is actually reflecting, as it is reflecting only an image.  What Sturges was trying to do was say, "Yup. Things suck.  How about escaping that for a little while?  Wouldn't a movie be a great way to do that?"   His pace that he requires his actors to perform their lines could best be described as breakneck.  Early in the film, we get a long take 3 minutes of film (I know, because I had to review it again), in which there isn't a breath taken between the 3 actors delivering their lines.  At one point, the actor playing the head of the studio starts to blow his line, but recovers quickly, and it actually works, character-wise.  You can see Joel McCrea smile when the actor recovers, as  if to say, "GOD HELP ME, we don't HAVE TO DO THIS SCENE AGAIN!!!"  I cannot imagine the rehearsal that went into that, the timing, the choreography/blocking, camera set-up, etc.  It's a wonder to watch.  Sturges is clearly a director with his fingers on the control buttons.  There are some beautiful shots of some exteriors, some really poignant moments with the down and out, and some truly hilarious scenes.  There is one scene, however, that deserves special mention, because of its significant impact.

The prisoners are shown the Disney film in an African-American church.  The preacher, a man who is truly the leader of his flock, advises his congregation that they will be joined by some very special guests, some who are worse off than them, and that all are equal in the eyes of God.  He then leads them in a chorus of the spiritual "Let My People Go."  Given the usual tone towards black people from Hollywood in the 1940's, this scene was revolutionary.  It was dignified.  Hell, earlier in this film, there is a black chef, complete with the shuffling "Yes, Doc" responses, and his funniest gag is winding up white-faced.  This film shows both the best and worst of race depictions at the time.  I'm glad that the scene that sticks is the dignified one, but if you need a lesson as to how important this scene was, the film shows you the warts in Hollywood earlier.

I can also see the sensibilities of Sturges in the work of the Coen brothers, and the title of their great film "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" is clearly a not so subtle hat tip to Sturges.  This man set the table.  The Coens are feasting upon his meal.

Veronica Lake, whose Hollywood career was, what could at best be described as "troubled," is dynamite.  During filming, she was 6-8 months pregnant with her first child.  Seeing her smoke during that reminds us that things have changed a lot in 70 years, but you never can see her condition.  Rumor has it that Sturges didn't even know, but I find that incredibly hard to believe.  The Girl's name is never mentioned, even in credits.  Lake is funny, fast paced, gorgeous when she needs to be, spitfire energetic when she needs to be, and honest when she needs to be.  It's a great performance.  I have to confess, on yet another film, that seeing her in her hobo clothes, all 5 foot of her, reminded me a lot of a friend of mine.  This is a different friend than I was reminded of during "Sunrise," but I was reminded of a friend.  It was hard not to see her whenever Lake was dressed such.

At center, however, is Joel McCrea.  An actor whose work I was completely ignorant of in advance of this film, his earnest take on John L. Sullivan is inspired.  We see the altruism of this character, yet McRae never lets us lose sight of a guy who is really just play-acting.  Even in his most poignant moments, we still can see the rich guy behind it.  It's a wonderfully subtle performance, full of great choices, great commitments, and great emotions.  My take on Sullivan, and what I see McCrea showing us, is something I've believed for a long, long time.  Actors can recall emotions, and bring them to the scene, but in the end, it's really all just make-believe.  And, if it's not, the actor should probably not be doing that job.

I also noticed the Sherriff from "It's a Wonderful Life" in this.  Finding these obscure actors in these old films and trying to remember where I'd seen them before is a lot of fun.  Got that one pretty quickly.

I've rambled on long enough.  "Sullivan's Travels" is a wonderful film, one that should be watched by a wide audience.  I recommend you watch it and start that widening process.  You won't regret that.  Does it belong in the 100 Greatest American Films?  Yes.  Yes, it does.