“The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he didn’t exist.”
Screenplay by Christopher McQuarrie
Dr. Strangelove Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is one of my favorite films, and actually feels terrifyingly apropos as to what’s happening in the world today. Call it what you will: a dark comedy, a political satire, a macabre Cold War masterpiece. Any of those apply, but there are a couple of things that make this film essential viewing. It is incredibly funny and it is incredibly thoughtful. While the film’s director Stanley Kubrick had already made a strong name for himself in Hollywood by directing the Oscar nominated Spartacus, as well as critically acclaimed films like Paths of Glory and Lolita, it was Dr. Strangelove that took Kubrick to the next level. He would follow it up with 2001: A Space Odyssey and A Clockwork Orange and those three films in succession would help to solidify Kubrick as one of the greatest and most innovative film makers in Hollywood.
Dr. Strangelove is one of the greatest pieces of satire of all time, and calls into question the idea of peace through strength. It is one of the funniest movies ever made, and you don’t have to just take my word for it, as AFI has it at #3 on it’s list of 100 years, 100 laughs trailing only Tootsie and Some Like it Hot. This is one of those movies that makes you laugh in moments that you know you shouldn’t be laughing at, like the iconic moment where Colonel Kong (Slim Pickens) waves his hat and yells, “Yahoo!” as he rides the nuclear bomb (called “Hi There!”) down to his death, and the likely destruction of all mankind. This movie is so funny that there’s even a scene where one of the actors has to stifle a laugh. Peter Sellers, one of the great comedic actors of the 20th Century plays 3 roles, the sophisticated yet awkward Lt. Mandrake, who first discovers that General Ripper (Sterling Hayden) has gone insane and ordered his bomber wing to attack their targets inside the Soviet Union. Sellers also plays Merkin Muffley, the President of the United States, and he plays him as a paper tiger weakling who is talks tough early on, but as the situation spirals out of control we see that this man is in way over his head. (Sound familiar?) Finally Sellers also plays the title role, a crippled Nazi scientist who is now in the employ of the United States military and is an advisor to the president. Let that sentence sink in for a moment.
One of the things that made Sellers so great was that he was not only the great physical comedian that many people are familiar with from him starring as the bumbling Inspector Clouseau from The Pink Panther series, but he was also brilliant at creating more subtle and more cerebral comedy. Kubrick was famous for demanding that his actors stay on script. Sellers was one of the few actors that he let riff, and there are a couple of scenes in Dr. Strangelove where Sellers brings the house down, both like here with his physical comedy, and here with his more cerebral comedy.
Another thing that’s brilliant about this film is the surprising comedic performances from two actors not necessarily known for their comedic chops. George C. Scott was about as serious an actor that ever lived. He made a career out of playing tough men in tough situations and responding in tough ways. Other than the animated The Rescuers Down Under in which he played the villain McLeach, I can’t think of another comedic role that he played, but comedy clearly came very naturally to him. In Dr. Strangelove he plays General Buck Turgidson, a staunch anti-communist, sexist brute who is as fanatical about the military as he is about national security. His performance in this film is boisterous and filled with extreme facial expressions and over the top pantomime. When you compare this role to, say to Bert Gordon, the quietly intense pool shark in The Hustler which he played just two years earlier, you can see the incredible range that he had. However there were a lot more Gordons than there were Turgidsons over the course of George C. Scott’s career, but his performance in Dr. Strangelove is right up there with Sellers in terms of how funny it is, and it’s really too bad that he didn’t do more comedy throughout the rest of his career.
The other actor that I’m referring to is Sterling Hayden, who most people will remember as the crooked cop who punches Michael Corleone in The Godfather. He also starred in one of Kubrick’s very early films, The Killing, as an ex-con trying to pull a heist on a horse racing track. In Dr. Strangelove he did exactly the opposite of what Scott did in that Hayden played his character absolutely straight. There were no pratfalls, no garish facial expressions, and ironically he was the character who went insane. He was flat emotionally and tonally, and that was exactly the right way to play that character. It was his dialogue and the straight manner in which he delivered his insane lines about our precious fluids and how communist infiltration was threatening our essence, and he played this straight insanity opposite Sellers’ Mandrake who was manically trying to get Ripper to divulge the secret code that could call of the attack. The juxtaposition and the irony of these performances is a full-on tutorial on compelling story telling. We have the calm, measured, calculating character who has lost his mind and is unleashing Armageddon against the frantic, frenetic, nervous sane character who is trying to stop him. That tension does what not every comedy is able to do and that’s create drama.
Ultimately, that is what makes Dr. Strangelove such a great film and what has allowed it to stand the test of time. It’s a comedy that is loaded with tension and drama. One of the techniques to creating great drama is giving your characters obstacles to overcome, and Kubrick and co-writers Terry Southern and Peter George did was create obstacles for their characters at every turn. There are far too many obstacles in this film to do any of them justice by going through the list, but the obstacles in this film do a ton to create not only drama, but a lot of the comedy as well. In fact, I would say that the drama and the comedy go hand in hand in this film precisely because they’re co-created by the obstacles that have been organically put into the script.
Overall, this is a superb film. It is a comedy that is loaded with drama. It takes perhaps the most serious topic off the 20th Century and used it as a back drop to create one of the 20th Century’s funniest films. It has actors that were best known for their dramatic roles and for bringing gravitas to the screen in the films they’ve been in, and yet gave among their greatest performances in this bitingly satirical dark comedy. Dr. Strangelove is a film fan’s film and should be essential viewing to any one who is a fan of cinema.
Pulp Fiction changed the way I watched movies. I was 23-years old when it came out, and I was about 2 years away from moving to Los Angeles. At the time I thought that I was pretty learned in the ways of cinema. That’s the beauty and curse of youth; you’re not yet old enough to know what you don’t know. I knew very little of this film going into it. In fact, it wasn’t even on my radar until I read a review of it in the paper the day it came out. Based on that review, I went to a matinee and saw it with about 3 or 4 people in the entire theater. I was blown away. In fact, I was so blown away that I went out and told all of my friends that they needed to see this movie, and I dragged many of them to it. In all, I think I saw it 5 or 6 times in the theater, and by the sixth time, word of mouth had spread and the theater was packed. Pulp Fiction was a phenomenon and the prototypical 90’s movie. It was brutal and funny. It was violent and articulate. It was unmerciful and uplifting. This is a film that on the surface looks very clearly like one thing, but when you look under the surface you realize that it is another thing entirely. It’s a film with depth, breadth, wit, and wisdom, and it is one of my top 5 favorite films of all time.
Pulp Fiction is a film fan’s film. In the nearly two decades since its release, I’ll admit that some of the shine has come off of its director Quentin Tarantino as a film maker. Pulp Fiction was the second film he directed, following up Reservoir Dogs, plus he wrote the screenplays for cult classics True Romance and Natural Born Killers. He hasn’t really changed his style a whole lot since then, so the same motifs that made these films seem so edgy in the 90’s have now become somewhat stale. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still a huge fan of Tarantino, and he’s never made a film that I’ve disliked. Also, Inglourious Basterds is another BSsential that I’ll write about in upcoming weeks. However, the in-your-face edginess, the violence, the unapologetic drug use, and the eloquent but potentially offensive dialogue that allowed Pulp Fiction to burst on to the scene and announce that film making would be forever different didn’t evolve with the times. We’ve now become so desensitized to those motifs now that they’ve become either stale, or worse, cliche. Tarantino’s last couple of efforts suffer from that, I think, and even though I liked Django Unchained and The Hateful Eight, they were not at the same level of his best work.
But Pulp Fiction announced Tarantino’s arrival in grand fashion. When people think about it, I think they generally look at it as a violent film with witty dialogue, but it is so much more than that. Don’t forget that Tarantino won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay and was nominated for Best Director. The film was nominated for Best Picture, and should have won, as I articulated here. This is a film that defied convention in almost every way imaginable. The subject matter was edgy, if not downright taboo. The story was told in an unconventional and non-linear way that would have had story traditionalists up in arms. There were no, and I mean no relatable characters in this film. Everyone was either a murderer, a gangster, a thief, or some other sort of reprobate, and yet, we engage with these characters and root for them. But here’s the thing about Pulp Fiction that a lot of people miss. This is actually a morality play where everyone gets some sort of comeuppance, with one very important exception.
In order to prove that point, let’s go on a trip through the film. It opens in a coffee shop where Pumpkin (Tim Roth) and Honey Bunny (Amanda Plummer) sit in a booth and Pumpkin complains about how hard and dangerous it’s becoming to continue to rob liquor stores and he doesn’t want to do it anymore. Honey Bunny asks him the alternative, and he has the idea of robbing restaurants. The staff is very unlikely to want to risk their lives to save the owner’s money and taking the wallets of the customers will add to the take. Honey Bunny is ready to start right now, and Pumpkin yells out for everyone to be cool, this is a robbery, and Honey Bunny tells everyone to anti up, or she’ll execute every last one of them.
That takes us through the opening credits and we then fade up on Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) and Vincent Vega (John Travolta) driving in their car with Vincent, who just returned from Amsterdam telling Jules of the subtle differences between Europe and the United States. They get to their destination and enter an apartment where Marvin, their contact is waiting, and Brett (Frank Whaley) and Roger (Burr Steers) are sitting eating breakfast. The tension is palpable as Roger admits to them where the missing case is. Vincent collects it and tells Jules that they’re good. Brett tries to talk their way out of it, and Jules shoots Roger without batting an eyelash. He then recites his famous passage from Ezekiel 25:17 before he and Vincent unload on Brett, gunning him down in cold blood.
Abruptly we cut to a a bar and a close up of Butch Coolidge (Bruce Willis), a washed up prize fighter who is being talked to by an off screen Marcelus Wallace (Ving Rhames), who is convincing him why he should take a dive in the fight he’ll be in later. Butch agrees as he takes a wad of cash from Marcelus and then heads over to the bar where Vincent is waiting to meet with Marcelus. Vincent insults Butch a couple of times before Marcelus calls him over, leaving Butch standing there agape.
Vincent has agreed to take Marcelus’s wife Mia (Uma Thurman) out and show her a good time while he’s not around, but he’s had to convince Jules and others that it’s not a date. Before going to pick her up, he goes to meet with his drug dealer Lance (Eric Stoltz), who sells him some of his best heroine. High as a kite, Vincent arrives at Mia’s house and a note left on the door invites him in and to poor himself a drink. Mia watches him on closed circuit TV while she snorts a couple of lines of cocaine. She then has Vincent take her to Jack Rabbit Slims, and there is a mild connection and attraction between the two of them that increases after they win the Jack Rabbit Slims Twist Contest. Vincent takes Mia home, and while he’s in the bathroom, she discovers the heroin in his jacket pocket. Thinking it’s cocaine, she lines some up and snorts it, causing her to immediately OD. Vincent emerges from the bathroom and discovers her. Seeing she’s nearly dead, he rushes her to Lance’s house, and tells a reluctant Lance who she is and the consequences waiting both of them if he doesn’t help. Lance has an adrenalin shot that Vincent plunges into her and she miraculously is revived. Vincent takes her home where she tells him the bad joke that she told on the one pilot she worked on before going into her house. Vincent blows her a kiss and is off.
We cut to a dream sequence where Butch remembers Captain Koons (Christopher Walken) meeting him when he was a young child and telling him of a gold watch that his great grandfather bought before going to World War I. He handed it to Butch’s grandfather who fought and died in World War II, and the watch was passed to Butch’s father who died of dysentery in a Vietnamese POW camp after hiding the watch up his ass for three years. Koons then hid it in his ass for two years and is here now presenting it to Butch. Butch’s young hand reaches up and grabs it, waking present day Butch from his nap. Butch is in the locker room, dressed for his boxing match. Rather than throwing the fight, Butch kills his opponent, having taken the action on his status after word got out that he was throwing it, and costing Marcelus his profits. Butch gets to his motel where his girlfriend Fabienne is waiting, and they talk of their plans to get away. The next morning, Butch can’t find his watch. Fabienne is sure she packed it, but then has to admit that she didn’t.
Frustrated and angry, Butch has to return to his apartment for the watch. He parks a couple of blocks away and sneaks through the back alleys of the neighborhood. He gets into his apartment and finds the watch. Thinking he’s in the clear, Butch throws a couple of toaster pastries in the toaster, then sees the automatic weapon on the counter. Then he hears the toilet flush. He picks up the gun and Vincent opens the door. After a long beat, Vincent shoots him dead and leaves. In his car waiting at the light, Marcelus is crossing with donuts and coffee. They see each other and Butch rams through him, but crashes into another car going through the intersection. When both men come to, Marcelus starts shooting at Butch, who limps down the street, eventually ducking into a pawn shop. Marcelus enters, but Butch has the drop on him, tackles him to the floor and starts beating him. He grabs Marcelus’ gun and is about to shoot him when we hear the click of a cocking shotgun. Maynard the owner of the shop knocks him out and calls Zed, telling him that the spider has caught a couple of flies.
We next see Butch and Marcelus strapped to chairs with red balls blocking their mouths. Zed shows up and chooses Marcelus to do first, they drag the chair into another room and start raping him. Butch manages to get untied, and knocks out the Gimp that Maynard had taken out of a trunk. Butch runs upstairs and is halfway out the door when he looks back and hears Marcelus being tortured. He looks through the drawers and finds a hammer. Then he sees a baseball bat. Then he sees a chainsaw. Finally he notices a samurai sword and takes it downstairs. As Maynard is distracted and turned on by Zed’s raping of Marcelus, Butch sneaks up behind him. Maynard notices him, but too late, and Butch stabs him before holding Zed at bay. As Zed is distracted by Butch, Marcelus has Maynard’s shotgun and shoots Zed in the balls. Butch and Marcelus work it out and Marcelus tells Butch never to tell anyone about this and to leave town. Butch leaves Marcelus standing over a mutilated Zed, and he heads for the street. Stealing Zed’s chopper, he picks up Fabienne and the two of them escape.
We then go back in time to Jules reciting Ezekiel 25:17, but we’re in the bathroom where another gang member is hiding. After they kill Brett, he bursts into the other room with his gun blazing, but he somehow misses Vincent and Jules. They give him a look and shoot him dead. Jules believes this to be a miracle, but Vincent is skeptical and an argument ensues. Jules won’t let them leave until Vincent recognizes this as a miracle, which he reluctantly does. In the car the argument continues with Marvin sitting in the back seat. Vincent, gun in hand, turns to talk to Marvin and his gun accidentally goes off, shooting Marvin in the face. Needing to get the car off the road, Jules calls his friend Jimmie (Tarantino) and they park the car in his garage. The problem for Jimmie is that his wife is due home soon, and they need to solve their problem fast. Jules calls Marcelus who sends over Mr. Wolf (Harvey Keitel), who basically tells them to clean the car. He also has a way to dispose of the body.
With that problem solved, Jules and Vincent decide to go get breakfast. They sit in a coffee shop, continuing to argue over whether or not what happened to them is a miracle. Either way, Jules decides he’s out of the business, and has seen that he has a higher calling. Vincent tells him he’s going to the bathroom, but they’ll continue this conversation when he’s out. While he’s in there, we see Pumpkin and Honey Bunny calling out that this is a robbery. The other customers are barely able to control their panic, but Jules calmly holds his gun under the table and his wallet in the air. When Pumpkin comes over to him, he demands to look in the case. Jules shows him then disarms him and puts his gun to Pumpkin’s head. Honey Bunny comes over to help, but Jules calms them down, and has Pumpkin sit across from him. He tells Pumpkin that he can’t have the case, but he lets him take the $1500 from his wallet. He then recites Ezekiel 25:17 to him and gives a couple of interpretations of it before letting him and Honey Bunny leave. Vincent suggest they get out of there and Jules concurs.
That’s the end of the movie, and Jules is the only character who gets no comeuppance. He rather has a literal come to Jesus moment, and makes the conscious decision to leave the murderous life behind, and he’s the only one who doesn’t have something bad happen to him in this film. All of the unrepentant bad guys do to varying degrees. Vincent gets killed by Butch. Mia OD’s and barely survives. Butch crashes his car and gets severely beaten and kidnapped. Marcelus gets beaten and raped. Jules, presumably, gets away.
Now don’t get me wrong by my phrasing. I don’t consider this a religious film in the least, but it is, as I said before, a morality play. The one guy in the film who walks away from the lifestyle is shown to have found peace. He’s shown to have discovered that there’s more to life than being a gangster or a hitman, and he’s happy to have discovered the change. What’s more, he’s unfazed by Vincent’s taunting of him about it. That thematic element makes this film very deep, and provides it with a message that is easy to overlook because of all of the other noise going on in the film, but once you see it it’s there loud and clear.
The other thing to remember with Pulp Fiction is what it did for the actors in it. This film essentially launched the careers of Jackson, Rhames and Thurman. All of them had been in other and resurrected the careers of Willis and Travolta. Jackson was recognizable at that point and had been seen in films like Jurassic Park, Patriot Games, Menace II Society, Goodfellas and others, but Pulp Fiction made him a bonafide star. The same could be said for Uma Thurman, who had been in films like The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, Dangerous Liaisons and Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, but Pulp Fiction made her a household name. Pulp Fiction also revitalized the stagnant careers of both John Travolta and Bruce Willis. Remember that aside from the Look Who’s Talking movies, Travolta had been unable to even get arrested in Hollywood for about a decade. Willis was coming off a string of box office and critical busts, and it looked like his career was clearly waning. Pulp Fiction put both of them back on the A-list, and neither one of them has looked back since
Overall, Pulp Fiction is a film with deep story and thematic component that is highly entertaining and has some of the best dialogue that has ever been written. If it’s been a while since you’ve seen it, or if you’ve never seen it, don’t let the violence or disturbing subject matter scare you away. It’s actually not gratuitous in the least, but is important to the telling of the story and the presentation of the story’s message. This is a film that is worth seeing and essential viewing for any fan of the movies.
I’ve had this script idea hanging around in my head for over a decade. It’s based on true events, and true events rarely fit into a nice 4-Act structure (or 3-Act structure if that’s what you believe in). I’ve tried tackling it at various timed over the past few years, but I always hit a road block. I’ve used every type of motivation imaginable, especially recently, to try and get myself over the hump and finally just get the damn thing on paper. I’ve tried joining writers’ groups and taking writing classes in an effort to force myself to actually do the work. The most recent writing class that I took started with the most promise, and I thought that maybe I had found the spine. I drafted a beat outline and I wrote a 3-page treatment, and I even wrote the first act of the script. Then life intervened, as it often does, and I completely lost my momentum. There were a few times where I opened up the file, and then proceeded to stare at the treatment and at the beat outline with no real inspiration to keep the story going.
And yet, even after all of this time and all of this struggle, I still desperately want to write this script. I believe that it’s an important story that needs to be told, and that cinema is the perfect vehicle for its telling. And yet, more months have gone by without another word being committed to paper or pixels. Finally, in a last ditch effort to get this thing written, I joined a Mastermind group. Mastermind groups usually consist of 8-12 people from a similar industry and with similar professional goals that could be outside of their current professions, and they meet and form teams to assist each other along in trying to accomplish those goals with an idea that the group provides accountability for the individuals to actually work on their projects. You don’t want to be the only one at a Check In who doesn’t have anything to share or hasn’t done any work. So with this desire to avoid public shaming, I’m moving forward with this script.
What’s nice about the Mastermind group that I didn’t really have, even in the screenwriting class, is a real sense of structure. My main goal is to finish the screenplay this year so that I have a polished script that is ready to submit to agencies and studios. However what’s different is that writing the script is just the overall goal. As a part of my Mastermind tasks I had to break it down into quarterly, monthly, weekly, and daily goals. As I accomplish those smaller goals, I move closer to the larger goal of completing the screenplay.
As I was constructing these goals, I decided that the first thing I needed to do was to rework the outline. So much time had passed since I did any thoughtful work on the script, I felt the need to re calibrate the story, and perhaps think about it from a new point of view. Even though I felt before that I had discovered the spine of the story, something must have been holding me back which allowed be to put it down without prioritizing the idea of picking it back up again. There must have been something missing from the outline that was making it difficult to actually see the individual scenes in my head enough so that I could actually write them.
When I first wrote out the beat outline, I broke the story down into 24 scenes. In looking at the outline compared to what I had written so far in the script, it really seemed like the outline was giving me rough sequences that were very general, but not at all specific. I took the scenes in the outline that I had already written and relabeled them sequences, and then I created a bullet list under the paragraph of one to two sentence descriptions of the individual scenes. Once I got to the end of the portion of the outline that had script pages, I pressed ahead and imagined what the individual scenes will be in sequences yet to be written. I’ve made it about half way through the outline, and now I feel like I actually have really figured out the spine of the story, and I’ve created some tangible momentum as I move forward in developing the story.
The lesson is that, even though I’ve written scripts in the past, I should know that I can’t just jump in and start writing pages with a minimum amount of prep work. The real work of writing a script is in the preparation. The treatment, and even more so the outline, is where you create the story. The writing of the screenplay should be nothing more than filling in the blanks. Sometimes it’s easy to overlook the basics. But when you’re struggling to find your voice, going back to the basics will always provide you with the road map to finding your way.
I’m sure this must seem like it’s a few days late, but please bear with me. I went dark for the two weeks leading up to Christmas doing lots of Christmas stuff and my intention was to get this blog up leading up to the holidays. When it became clear that I just wouldn’t have the time to write this blog post before Christmas, I initially thought that I’d have to skip it and wait until next year. But then I got to thinking about what really makes It’s a Wonderful Life essential, and I realized something very important. It’s a Wonderful Life isn’t essential because it’s one of the greatest Christmas movies of all time (which, of course, it is). It’s essential because it’s one of the greatest films of all time. It’s ranked #11 AFI’s original list of the top 100 films, and was nominated for Best Picture of 1946, losing out to another AFI Top-100 film, The Best Years of Our Lives.
The ironic thing about It’s a Wonderful Life is that it was actually panned by critics at the time of its release as overly sentimental, and the film was forgotten about for a generation. In the 1970’s and 80’s it found new life by constantly being shown on television because it was cheap and easy to get the rights for it. Perhaps many of us were bludgeoned into loving this film, but I actually always avoided it as a kid, and didn’t watch the film in its entirety until I was in college. I immediately fell in love with it, and it has become a staple for me every Holiday season since.
Forgetting the iconic, yet oft parodied moments in this film like when young Zuzu says, “Look, Daddy. Teacher says every time a bell rings and angel gets his wings!” or the scene of George Bailey (James Stewart) running through Bedford Falls yelling “Merry Christmas!” to passersby and to all of the local buildings and businesses, this is an exceptionally crafted film with a very dramatic story arc and an equally dramatic character arc for the film’s hero, George Bailey. Frank Capra directed this film, and it is my humble opinion that he was one of the top 5 directors of the first half of the 20th Century. Look him up on IMDB if you need to in order to see a list of all of the classic films he directed. Capra was a master story teller, and It’s a Wonderful Life has a classic setup of pitting what the main character wants against what he needs. Immediately after we meet George Bailey as a boy we learn that he yearns to escape the shackles of his small town so that he can explore the world. We continue to learn over the course of the first act after he’s grown into adulthood that he has big ideas and big dreams like building 100-story skyscrapers and mile-long bridges, and those dreams can’t be contained or attained in the small bubble that is Bedford Falls. He is constantly trying to get out, and yet at every turn he is being held back.
It is in these moments of crisis when George is kept from leaving town that we learn about his character and those moments allow us to root for him. He is altruistic in his actions, constantly doing the right thing for others rather than for himself. He can’t afford college right out of high school, so he works for his father at the Bailey Building and Loan in order to save money. While there, he learns from his father that helping people is its own reward, especially when it comes to helping people attain their own homes so that they don’t have to live in the squalor of the slums owned by Henry Potter (Lionel Barrymore), the richest and meanest man in town. Even with that knowledge, George finds the job tedious and can’t wait to get away. That is, until his father dies suddenly, and the Building and Loan’s Board of Directors will only keep the company going if George takes over. George then sends his brother Harry to college with the money he had saved and waits four more years. When Harry does come back and George is ready to finally hand off the reigns to him, Harry unexpectedly announces that he’s married and his new wife tells George that her father has offered Harry a promising job. The second act begins with us learning that George will never leave Bedford Falls.
However it is in the second act where we also realize that staying in Bedford Falls is exactly the right thing for George. He just doesn’t know it yet. He marries a local girl, Mary Hatch (Donna Reed), who has dreamed of marrying George since she was a little girl. We also see George fight incredibly hard to keep the Building and Load afloat, not for himself mind you, but in order for the people of Bedford Falls to have a means of borrowing money without having to crawl to Potter. We know that George is doing good things, and he knows that he’s doing good things as well, but he’s also struggling with the fact that he’s not making good money. He drives a junky car, and he he can’t afford to buy nice things for his wife. When his childhood friend Sam Wainwright shows up in a big fancy car and invites him to go on a trip to Florida that George couldn’t possibly afford, we see the pain that it causes him, and we also see a not-so-subtle hint of regret. This is a man who believes that he’s more than he’s become because he can’t see the greatness in the little things that he’s doing.
That is where the depth comes in to George’s character. He could be this very nice and altruistic, yet flat character, but Capra and his co-writers Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett did a great job of providing George with depth by giving him a couple of subtle and important flaws. They made him envious of the outside world and they took away his ability to see the good things that were right in front of him. George Bailey wants to be a great and important person, and he mistakenly thinks that in order to do that, you have to go into the great big world and do great and important things. He doesn’t see that for the people of Bedford Falls, that’s exactly what he’s doing. The third act of the story ends up showing him that fact just as it shows us.
In fact, it is George’s moment of crisis that is one of the strongest and most emotional moments of this or any other film. After Uncle Billy has lost $8,000 of company money and it looks as though George will lose everything and go to jail, he goes to his home and we see him fall apart. He clutches his young son, Tommy and fights to hold back the tears. He then finds out that his youngest daughter Zuzu has become sick because she left her coat open on the way home so that she wouldn’t crush her flower. When some pedals fall off of it, George hides them in his pocket so she won’t see them. He then yells at her teacher over the phone, projecting all of the things that he sees wrong with himself on to her. His oldest son Pete keeps asking him how to spell words and it grates on his patience. Then, to prove how important sound is to film, as all of this chaos is going on, George’s older daughter Jane is practicing Hark, The Herald Angels Sing on the piano, and the same four bars are heard over and over again to the point of being torturous. Finally George snaps and yells at Pete and Tommy before yelling at Jane to stop playing that incessant tune. He looks at a model of the mile-long bridge that he never got the opportunity to build and is overcome by his rage. He kicks the model over and trashes the room in front of his shocked family. All Mary can do is kick him out of the house. George has lost everything, and a few minutes later Potter will tell him that he’s worth more dead then alive.
The reason this moment is so effective is because we care so deeply for George. He”s been a likable and relatable character throughout the film, and we have come to like him very much. We don’t want to see him in this much pain, and the emotion is palpable when he does. He is clearly a man who has lost everything and is ready to kill himself before Clarence, his guardian angel, intervenes. To this point in the film, Capra has developed a text book worthy story and equally worthy characters that not only allow the audience to become emotionally engaged, but the audience simply can’t help but be emotionally engaged in the struggles of this fine man.
It’s a Wonderful Life also has some of the best examples of planting and payoff. We see important things happen in the first act that don’t get 100% paid off until the film’s climactic moments. One of the first things that happens in the film is Young George saving the life of Young Harry when Harry falls through the ice of a frozen lake. This act causes George to lose the hearing in his right ear. Then for good measure we learn at the beginning near the end of the second act that Harry is getting the Congressional Medal of Honor for shooting down two Japanese planes that were just about to crash into a transport full of American soldiers. A few minutes after the scene in which Young George saves Harry’s life, we see him working his part time job in the local drug store. Mr. Gower, the druggist, drunk and despondent over a telegram he received with news of his son’s death, accidentally puts poison in some medicine meant for a young boy. George doesn’t deliver the pills, and Mr. Gower beats him for it until George points out that there’s poison in them.
These moments are all paid off when Clarence shows him a new reality of a world where George Bailey never existed. George sees a town now called Pottersville where decadence and mayhem rule the day. People are angry and bitter. He sees a drunken Mr. Gower and learns that he went to prison for 20 years for poisoning a kid. He sees the tombstone of Harry Bailey who broke through the ice at the age of 9 and was drowned. Further, every man on the transport died when Harry wasn’t there to save them because George wasn’t there to save Harry. He then sees Mary, a quiet and mousy old maid who never married and works as the local librarian. Seeing these things along with other signs finally shows George that he really does have a wonderful life, as Clarence points out, and that it would be a shame to throw it all away.
It’s a Wonderful Life is one of those films that should be looked at with a fresh eye. To a degree it certainly has become something of a cliche, but looking at it purely as a well-fashioned and well-crafted film is still possible. It’s a Wonderful Life has an amazing script and is impeccably directed. And I never even got to the superb acting by Jimmy Stewart. All of the actors, particularly Donna Reed and Lionel Barrymore gave sterling performances in It’s a Wonderful Life, but Stewart might have given the best performance of his career, and considering that he’s one of the greatest and most iconic actors of the 20th Century, that is certainly saying something.
It’s a Wonderful Life is a film that many people have seen many times. Perhaps it has become stale to you. Perhaps you think that there isn’t anything new in it for you. However, I would suggest watching this film after the Holidays. Don’t watch it as a Christmas movie. Just watch it for the fine cinematic experience that it is, and you may come away with a new appreciation for what is really one of the great films of all time.
RIP, Carrie Fisher.