Let’s just start out by saying that this is a grandiose picture. The film makers pulled out all of the stops with this one and spared no expense. There were literally thousands of actors requiring thousands of costumes. One scene in particular used over 2,500 extras. This was a massive undertaking, the likes of which few had ever equalled in the history of cinema to this point. In this regard, Cavalcade certainly lived up to its name.

I had never seen this film before, and there are a few things that I need to point out about it from a storytelling point of view. In a way Cavalcade was the Forrest Gump of its day. While Forrest Gump followed a dim-witted man through the great events of the mid to late 20th Century, Cavalcade follows a family through the great historical events of the first 33 years of the 20th Century. There isn’t so much as a well-defined 3-act structure in Cavalcade, but the drama in the film is generated through the eyes of Jane Maryott, the matriarch of her family. Through her eyes we see the many tragedies and few triumphs of the early part of that tumultuous century,

The film opens on New Years Eve, 1899. Jane and her husband Robert arrive home just before midnight. They’re greeted by their servants Ellen and Alfred Bridges, who serve as maid and butler to the Marryots. Robert, realizing that you don’t usher in a new century every day, convinces Jane to wake their young sons Edward and Joe. The merriment of the occasion for both families is tempered, however, by the fact that both Robert and Alfred will be leaving soon to fight in the second Boer War. Both men are confident that the war will be short, but their wives don’t share their optimism.

After leaving Robert at port, Jane arrives home to find Edward and Joe playing with toy soldiers with Edith, the daughter of Jane’s friend Margaret. They’re arguing over who should be the Boers until Jane and Margaret tell them to play something else. Both Robert and Alfred come home a couple of years later, and Robert lends Alfred money to open up a pub. At first Alfred is excited to be his own boss, but he soon sinks into alcoholism and a after a couple of years, Ellen doesn’t even want him around when company comes over. One night, in a particularly drunken state, Alfred chases his daughter, Fanny outside and catches up with her to find her dancing with gypsies. While trying to pick a fight with one of them, he’s run over by a fire wagon racing to the scene of a fire.

Meanwhile, Edward has grown up and marries Edith. She’s the perfect foil for him, as he’s grown up in a proper household and has proper manners. Edith grew up in a proper household as well, but is much more of a free spirit. Once they’re married, they’re looking forward to a happy life together and decide to take their honeymoon to America. The problem is that they’re crossing the Atlantic on the Titanic and both die in the wreck.

This seems almost too much for Jane to bear until World War I breaks out. Robert is recommissioned and he tries to convince Joe not to join the war effort, but to think of his mother. It’s not enough to persuade him, however, and he joins the army and sails off to France. After years of war, Joe becomes a grizzled veteran. While home on leave, he sees Fanny performing in a jazz show, and he reintroduces himself to her. She recognizes him, and they fall in love. Joe goes back to the line and sees Robert who tells him that the Armistice will be signed soon. It’s not soon enough, however, as Joe is killed just before the end of the war.

This is just enough to drive Jane nearly mad. Meanwhile it seems like the world around her is going mad as well. The tumult of the 20th Century spirals round and round and the very world itself seems to be careening out of control. We see Fanny in a jazz club singing about having the 20th Century Blues before seeing Jane and Robert, now elderly, celebrating alone on New Years Eve, 1932. They agree that they’ve had their ups and downs, but overall they’ve had good lives and they’re life together has been one grand adventure.

There are a couple of words that come to mind when thinking about his film. The first is depressing and the second is melodramatic. I’ll tackle the second word first. Jane is the main character in Cavalcade and all of the events are seen through her eyes. Tragedy after tragedy befalls her, so you can forgive her character for being somewhat melodramatic. The issue I have is probably more in the direction than anything else, but she constantly turns away from people when talking to them, not unlike character in modern soap operas. Her woe is me attitude becomes somewhat tiresome after a while, and she does nothing to affect what is happening around her. She is merely an observer of the events of the times and she reacts accordingly. This is no way to construct a hero or heroin for your story. Jane might be the most passive main character I’ve ever seen in a film, and it’s hard to root for her or to feel any sympathy or empathy for her at all.

The other word, depressing, is how I feel about the overall tone of the film. That said, it’s important to remember when critiquing any old film, what was going on at the time. This film came out in 1933 and the 20th Century to that point had been one mess after another. The ironic thing is that some of the century’s biggest messes were yet to come. But just like previous winners for Outstanding Picture All Quiet on the Western Front and Wings, World War I was still the seminal moment in history for the makers of this film. The Great Depression was in full swing, but it’s full effects had yet to be felt. World War I was still fresh on everyone’s mind and it heavily influenced the film industry. Having dealt with World War I less then 20 years previous, and now dealing with the Great Depression, it’s easy to see how people, especially artists, could take a pessimistic view of the world, and would have little faith that things would ever get demonstrably better. This film reflects that attitude. It is a pessimistic film that, even when it tries to be optimistic near the end, still leaves the audience with an empty feeling, like the elderly Jane and Robert, reliving another New Years Eve, but without any children or grandchildren to pass their wealth on to. They are alone and there is no future to their family. Much like the rest of the human race, their best days are in the past and they’re left with memories of how things used to be and the tormented thoughts of what might have been. Thematically this is a deep film, but it remains pessimistic and depressing.

Did the Academy get it right?

Certainly a strong case could be made for either 42nd Street or A Farewell to Arms. Historically, both of those films have remained more memorable in the cannon that Cavalcade. Both of those films starred actors and actresses that are more remembered than the actors and actresses of Cavalcade, however Cavalcade did have one thing going for it. Cavalcade was a spectacle. It was a huge film and a huge undertaking, and it was the type of film that the Academy has a history of rewarding. Cavalcade, for right or wrong, was one of the films that started that trend. I don’t know whether it truly deserved the Academy Award, but I will say that for my own taste, I’ll rewatch 42nd Street and A Farewell to Arms over again before I’ll rewatch Cavalcade.

The Academy expanded the number of film nominated for Outstanding Production to an unprecedented eight for the year 1931/1932. They had previously never had more than five nominated films, so we can see again that even in its infancy, the Academy was retooling and tweaking its process for determining the year’s best film.

Grand Hotel, the 1931/1932 winner was in many ways the most sophisticated film yet to win the award. Just as Cimarron impressively opened with a reenactment of the Oklahoma Land Rush, Grand Hotel opened with a more subtle, but equally impressive bit of camera work and scene planning. The film actually opens with the main players all speaking to different unseen people on the telephone. The Porter is on the phone with the hospital getting updates on his wife’s condition as she goes through labor, complaining that he can’t leave or he’ll lose his job. The Baron (John Barrymore) complains that he’s out of money, but he has his eye on the Dancer and will soon get what he came for. General Director Preysing goes over the details of a pending company merger with his father, fretting that they’ll be in big trouble if the merger does not go through. Finally, Otto Kringelein (Lionel Barrymore) speaks with the executor of his will, telling him that he’s been diagnosed with a terminal illness and that he’ll be spending his last days here at the Grand Hotel, living in the kind of opulence of which he’s only dreamed.

The following scene is an impressive dance of cameras and actors as the audience is introduced to the comings and goings of people in the hotel, including Flaemmchen, the stenographer (Joan Crawford), who is hired to record notes for Preysing. The whole scene is like a dance played out on stage with actors hitting their marks and their cues. The cameras and actors work in excellent synchronicity as we follow characters, learn their issues and are introduced to their stories. As the Baron and Kringelein meet outside of their room, Preysing gruffly enters his as well, and then they see Grusinskaya, the Dancer (Greta Garbo).  She’s depressed because no one is coming to see her dance anymore, and she doesn’t think she will dance ever again.

What happens from there is four seemingly unrelated stories that all come together over the course of the plot to one final gut wrenching conclusion. This is a fascinating story about friendship, ethics and living life to the fullest. Thematically it’s a powerful film as the Baron learns about what’s really important in life. As the audience, we’re rooting for him to be able to make the right choice. The problem for him is that he has a lifetime full of wrong choices, so even when he makes the right choice here he goes about it in the wrong way, ultimately causing his ruin. Conversely, we have Kringelein, a man who never had anything go his way, never ended up on the winning side of anything, but has now decided to live life to the fullest and to reward himself and a lifetime of hard work by spending his last few days in luxury. Their internal paths cross when the Baron finds Kringelein’s wallet and it has enough cash in it to pay his debts and allow him to run away with Grusinskaya, with whom he’s fallen in love, and he’s tempted to keep it, actually hiding it in his pocket. But upon hearing how losing the money will ruin Kringelein and destroy his last opportunity at a happy ending to a largely unhappy life, the Baron relents, and comes up with a ruse that he found the wallet on the floor and he returns it to Kringelein, earning the latter’s undying respect and gratitude.

That’s how we end up rooting for the Baron throughout the story. He’s a man who has lived beyond his means and now he owes money to nefarious characters. He has a plan to steal Grusinskaya’s pearls while she’s dancing, but she unexpectedly returns early, refusing to dance in her state of depression. She catches the Baron in her room and he has another ruse for her about admiring her so much that he needed to be in her room. Instead of being freaked out by an apparent stalker (it was a different time, after all), Grusinskaya stays up all night talking with the Baron and she feels alive for the first time in years. In fact, the Baron has reinvigorated her desire to dance.

The Baron has another girl fall for him as well in Flaemmchen. She’s the polar opposite of Grusinskaya, as she’s a plain girl with a plain job and not a lot of money or sophistication. However, her feet are firmly planted on the ground and she lives in the reality that the rest of us know. The Baron is thus presented with a choice between two women. One that he clearly wants to be with and one that he clearly needs to be with. Ultimately the Baron does what he’s done most of his life and he makes the wrong choice, trying to steal Preysing’s wallet while Preysing tries unsuccessfully to seduce Flaemmchen. Enraged, Preysing beats the Baron to death. That event allows Kringelein to show true heroism and bravery for the first time in his life as he stands up to Preysing, who has up to that point been a domineering presence in Kringelein’s existence. No more. Kringelein seizes the power and makes sure that Preysing is lead away in handcuffs. All of this leads Kringelein to a new lust for life. He no longer wants to die, and it seems as though he’s been reborn in an archetypal way. He leaves the hotel with Flaemmchen, promising to take care of her and she promises to keep him alive. Two  lost  souls who found each other.

That is the basis of good drama and that is why this is a film that aspiring screenwriters should see. There isn’t a lot of action in this film, but there is a lot of depth to both the story and to the characters. The plot has several twists and turns and there are competing story lines and subplots that are all woven together in a manner that will keep the audience engaged. Obviously the film is very dated, and there are certain things that happen that you simply wouldn’t see in a modern film, but the crafting of this story is instructive, and you can see that this film has influenced many, many films that have come after it.

Did the Academy get it right?

I believe they did. Shanghai Express starring Marlene Dietrich was one of the films nominated against it, and that film has become iconic for its use of lighting and production design to help tell a story that was intense and riveting. The original version of The Champ was also released that year, which was another iconic film in its own right. I haven’t seen any of the other films nominated, but based on the depth of the characters and how well their issues were interwoven into the story, along with the exceptional cinematography, Grand Hotel is the whole package and certainly worthy of Academy recognition.

This was certainly the most epic of the films to receive this award so far. Cimarron was a film that was trying to be big, trying to be important, and trying to be meaningful. It succeeded on all accounts and was rewarded by being named the best picture  of the year by the Academy.

I found Cimarron to be quite entertaining and quite interesting from a historical perspective as well as from a film making perspective. The film begins with the Oklahoma Land Rush of the late 1880’s. That was an event that still could have been remembered by some of the older audience members of the day. Within the first five minutes of the film we see one of the great scenes ever to be shot as men on horseback and on wagons race across the start line to get their share of free land that the government is handing out in Oklahoma. It’s a magnificent sequence that is impressive to watch, considering that it all had to be shot with real actors, real horses, real wagons, and in a real location. There was no CG here, and it is as impressive a bit of film making that you could ever ask to see, considering the circumstances and limitations under which they had to shoot it.

Cimarron is also interesting from a storytelling and screenwriting perspective. It has very strong thematic elements to it and those themes serve as lessons to be learned throughout the film. I was somewhat surprised to that the film had such a progressive point of view, considering the time in which it was made. While there are stereotypical issues dealing with African Americans and Native Americans that probably wouldn’t fly today, this film spoke loudly about the mistreatment of Native Americans of the time and vocally called for their equal treatment. Overall, Cimarron was a film about doing the right thing when no one else around you will. It’s about showing courage and standing up not only to the evil that everyone can see, but also to the evil that no one else can see, or that everyone else refuses to see.

The story follows the life of Yancey Cravat, an ambitious man who moves his wife, Sabra, and his young son to the Oklahoma territory, where he hopes to start a newspaper. The small town is just starting up, and it’s a mix of gunslingers, gamblers and reprobates. Sabra immediately has second thoughts, but Yancey convinces her that this is the chance of a lifetime, and he can no longer live in Wichita, as he’d been there for five years and he’s never lived anywhere in his life that long. He gets to know the locals, much to Sabra’s chagrin, but he gets his newspaper started even though he’s being threatened by Yountis, the man who killed the editor of the town’s last newspaper because he was getting too close to uncovering Yountis’s lawlessness. The thing is, everyone knows that Yountis is an outlaw, and Yountis intimidates everyone in the town. Everyone, that is, except for Yancey, who gets immediate love from the people of the town for standing up to Yountis. In fact, when Yancey finally guns Yountis down (in church, of all places), he’s treated like a hero who has lifted the burden of lawlessness off of all of their backs.

Yancey spends the rest of the film standing up for lost causes. Even as his own wife tries to get him to take the easy way, Yancey refuses. He’s somewhat like a superman in this regard. He single-handedly kills an entire gang of bandits who ride into town to rob the bank, but he refuses to take the reward money because  he used to ride with the lead bandit, a character named The Kid, when the Kid was an honest cowhand. But circumstances led the Kid to the wrong side of the law. Yancey is well versed in the law, and defends in open court a prostitute that Sabra is trying to run out of town. But Yancey pleas her case, describing the terrible circumstances of her life and showing Sabra that, but for chance, her life could be just as difficult and tragic as that of the prostitute. Finally, while running for governor of Oklahoma, Yancey publishes an editorial lobbying for equal rights for Indians. Sabra tells him that he’s mad for writing an editorial like that, and that he’s sure to lose all of his support. He tells her that he’d rather be right than to win a hollow victory and that the march of time would be on his side. This is proven in a scene that takes place decades later.

That’s not to say that Yancey is a man without flaws, however. Yancey has an insatiable drive for adventure, and he can’t stay in one place too long, even at the expense of his wife and children. At one point, he disappears for five years, leaving Sabra to look after their son and newborn daughter, as well as the newspaper. He disappears a second time and this flaw would turn out in the end to be a tragic one, as Yancey’s hunger for adventure and need to do the right thing lead ultimately to his demise.

However, the film shows its thematic and archetypal depth when, after Yancey has died, a statue is unveiled in the town honoring the settlers that turned this one horse town in to a thriving cultural center. The statue is the likeness of Yancey, giving him an archetypal rebirth that allows him to live on forever overseeing the town that he helped to create.

Did the Academy get it right?

It’s hard to argue against this choice. Cimarron is the type of film that the Academy would later make a habit of rewarding. It’s epic in scale, tells a compelling story with progressive themes, and has a hero who has the mental and emotional fortitude to do what is right over what is expedient, and is trying to leave the world a better place. It’s also a Western, and while another Western wouldn’t win Best Picture for decades, it was for many years the most popular genre of film.

Not having seen the other films, I can’t make a truly informed statement on the worthiness of Cimarron winning Outstanding Production, but I can say that it is a very good film, surprising on many levels for its sophistication, and certainly worthy of recognition.

As the excess and frivolity of the 1920’s dissolved into the sobering and disturbing reality of the bill that came due in the 1930’s, so too did the Academy award its highest honor to a film that reflected that transition from fun and carefree to coming of age seriousness. The Broadway Melody, so representative of the flappers and high times that those of us who did not live through the 20’s associate it with was the winner as that decade of waste was ushered out. All Quiet on the Western Front, an unapologetic anti-war film, took a far more serious turn, and ushered in a far more serious decade.

Based on the novel by Erich Maria Remarque, the film follows a group of German school boys who are convinced by their teacher to join the fight for the Fatherland. Enthusiastic and certain they’ll all be home with medals and glory, they bound off to war unaware of the horrors that await them. Their first night in the trenches introduces them to the bombardment that they’ll face night after night, and one by one they’re killed, wounded or succumb to madness. Lew Ayres played Paul, the young man who is the first to show his weakness, and in turn earns the respect of the grizzled veteran Kat. Paul then becomes the grizzled veteran by the end. The years in the trenches turn him from an idealistic youth to a cynical man who wonders why men of the same generation have to fight each other simply because they hail from different countries and speak different languages. When he’s stuck in a fox hole with the corpse of a French soldier that he had to kill in hand to hand combat, Paul talks to the dead man and promises him that he’ll take care of the his family. He looks at the dead man and he sees, not only himself, but his entire generation.

The war takes such a toll on Paul that he can’t stand home when he’s sent there on leave. His mother dotes on him too much and his father boasts on him too much. He spends time in a tavern with his father and his father’s friends who, ignorant of the hell-like conditions that the men are living and dying through on the front lines, demand that Paul and his comrades continue to push all the way to Paris.  His former teacher presents Paul to the present crop of students that he’s trying to brainwash in the same manner that he brainwashed Paul and his classmates. When Paul relates the true horrors of war to the boys, they turn on him and call him a coward. All this leads Paul to decide that this village isn’t home anymore. His true home is on the front with Kat and his comrades. There’s no gray area on the front. You’re either dead or alive and there’s not pretending either way. Like a man just released from years in prison, Paul has no home on the outside. Like many of his generation, he can’t feel safe or secure anymore. All of the peace is gone from his life. He goes back to the front where he feels he truly belongs.

That is the overarching lesson that makes this film instructive for aspiring screenwriters. We have characters that are put in impossible situations and they have to adapt in order to survive. Paul starts out the film in the Ordinary World of his village, where the war is a strange but fantastic place where young men go to achieve glory. He enters the Special World of the war only to learn that it’s a very different place than what he’d been led to believe. There is no glory in war. There is no heroism. There is only survival. Paul comes out of it as a completely changed person in the end. And yet, there is still an idealistic piece of him yet. Right until the end, there is a piece inside of Paul that still appreciates beauty and softness in the hard and ugly world that surrounds him.  If you’re currently working on a script and struggling with how to get your main character to change and grow throughout, take a look at All Quiet on the Western Front to see how these film makers did it, for they did it in a way that is complete and believable.

Thinking of this in terms of the Hero’s Journey, the Return With the Elixir stage is somewhat muddled. He can’t go home again in the truest sense. Paul’s elixir turns out to be cynicism in a world gone mad.

One thing about the theme of this film. I read the book in high school and I remember the anti-war undertones while I was reading it, as well as having them pointed out to me by my 10th grade English teacher. What we have in the theme is another example of how sound set film making back. Overall, this is a fantastic film that far surpasses The Broadway Melody in terms of film making quality and style. However, screenwriters had yet to master the art of writing good dialogue. There is little to no subtext in any of the dialogue, so much of the film’s  anti-war message is told to us through dialogue that is on the nose and borders on preachy. That probably wouldn’t have been an issue had this film been made three years earlier.

That brings me to one other point that I’d like to make. All Quiet on the Western Front was the third film to win the equivalent to Best Picture and the second to use World War I as its setting. I find that to be interesting in that World War I, at that point in time, was the seminal moment in history for most people. The Great Depression hadn’t quite reached its depth and the United States was still more than a decade away from entering World War II. In fact, at this point in time no one outside of Austria had ever even heard of Adolph Hitler. Wings, the first winner, was also anti-war in its theme, but as a silent film, it’s message was delivered in a more subtle manner. There is a title card near the end after Jack begs David’s parents for forgiveness after accidentally killing him, and David’s mother says simply, it was the war. In All Quiet on the Western Front, the characters spend most of the time lamenting their circumstances, and the audience is shown and told in great detail how devastating The Great War (you can’t call it World War I when there still hasn’t been a World War II) was on this entire generation.

Did the Academy get it right?

I believe they did, although you have to take my opinion with a few grains of salt since I haven’t seen any of the other films that were nominated. The reason I feel that the Academy got it right in this circumstance is because this is more than a very good film. It’s also an important film and a symbolic film. It bridged the gap between frivolity and seriousness. It had a serious message that needed to be heard.

In the end, All Quiet on the Western Front did what all films of this type, and certainly Best Picture winners, should strive to do. It entertained and enlightened.

There is an opinion among film historians and film critics that the introduction of sound actually set film making back by 20 years. With the cumbersome technology that no one initially knew how to take advantage of, the story became secondary and film makers tried their best to utilize this new toy that no one really understood. Many of the films of the late 20’s and early 30’s suffer from weak stories and awkward acting as actors tried to project their voices to wherever the microphone happened to be hidden set.

One needs look no further to find support for this theory than to compare the first two Academy Award winners for Outstanding Picture.

Wings, the first winner, was a silent picture. One of the last of a dying breed, however it had a story that was rich in theme and symbolism, had intricate subplots woven seamlessly into the story, and had deep and engaging characters that the audience could root for and relate to.

The Broadway Melody, the second winner, was a talkie. It had a very simple story, no real subplots to add depth, thin and unengaging characters that were neither likable nor sympathetic.

Another thing to consider was that Wings came in at over two hours and I was engaged in the story the entire time. The Broadway Melody came in at one hour and forty minutes, and I was barely able to get through it. It was almost unwatchable.

Now, before everyone thinks that this is just going to be me trashing on this film, let me say something. First off, this film really shows its age, and I think that’s one of the main causes of my issues with it. It came out in the late 1920’s and it shows. Much of the intonation in the dialogue is very dated, the actors performances are very dated, and they issues at hand are very dated. This is not a timeless film in the least. In fact, it is very much of its time, which is probably why it was so popular. Perhaps the audiences of of 1929 related better to the characters and found their issues to be more compelling.

Unfortunately when I looked at this film that was not the case. The premise of The Broadway Melody has two sisters, Hariet, alias Hank, and Queenie Mahoney arriving from the midwest in an attempt to take their Vaudeville act to Broadway. Eddie Kearns is debuting his show, “The Broadway Melody” and he has told the girls that Francis Zangfeld will put them in his latest review. Zanfeld, however is only interested in Queenie. Eddie, who is affianced to Hank suddenly finds himself in love with the better looking Queenie, who tries to dissuade Eddie’s interest by going with Jacques Wariner, a notorious playboy who nobody seems to like but treats Queenie like, well, a queen.

This love triangle creates a lot of problems. The first problem is that Eddie comes off as an untrustworthy lech who cheats on his fiancee with her sister, or at least tries to. By the time the movie ends, it’s clear that we were supposed to root for Eddie and Queenie to end up together, but neither character is likable enough to root for anything on their behalf, and it’s impossible to root for that kind of ending. I don’t care what time period you’re making your film in, this is not a scenario that is conducive to having likable characters.

The one character that we do root for is Hank, and she’s blissfully unaware that anything is going on until it’s painfully obvious to her in the third act that Eddie is in love with Queenie and not her. At this point Hank does the noble thing and tells Eddie to get Queenie from the clutches of Wariner. The film ends with Queenie and Eddie married and planning a move to Long Island while Hank has to go back to Peoria alone and relegated back to Vaudeville and away from the bright lights of Broadway. Her dreams of love and stardom have both been crushed.

Of course this film was a huge hit in its day and spawned three sequels in The Broadway Melody of 1936, The Broadway Melody of 1938 and The Broadway Melody of 1940. None of those films were sequels in the truest sense of the word, but they all dealt with people coming to New York from small towns attempting to make it on Broadway. A couple of its songs were also used nearly 3 decades later in Singin’ in the Rain. The music, in fact is the one strength of this film. The songs, while not necessarily timeless, are nonetheless memorable and entertaining. The choreography, however did leave something to be desired. This film is credited with being the first major musical production, and  the art of film choreography still had a long way to go before it would be able to realize the show-stopping potential of the later MGM bonanzas.

Did the Academy get it right?

I honestly don’t know. I haven’t seen any of the other films that were nominated that year. I suspect that the fact that this was Hollywood’s first major musical played into the voters’ minds. The Oscars have always been political, and while I don’t have any proof to back it up, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if there was political pressure to make sure that talkies were getting all of the good publicity. Several silent films were nominated for awards in 1928/1929, but not a single silent film won an award. What greater statement would there be to make about the viability of sound than to honor a musical with the title of Outstanding Picture?

Again, that’s purely theory on my part. I haven’t done any studying on the subject, and please feel free to comment if you have a knowledgable opinion on this.

Overall, that’s about all I can say about The Broadway Melody. As much as I would recommend seeing Wings to those who haven’t seen it, I can’t recommend The Broadway Melody unless it’s to study the effect of sound on film making and the negative impact it initially had on story telling.

The first Academy Awards Ceremony was held in the Blossom Room of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel on May 16th, 1929, and it honored movies released between August 1st, 1927 and August 1st, 1928. The winners had actually been announced three months prior to the ceremony.  There are many other ways in which the Academy handed out its awards differently in its early days, but the focus of this piece is on its first winner for Outstanding Picture (the Academy would change the name of the award 4 times, finally settling on Best Picture in 1961), Wings.

Wings premiered on August 12th, 1927 and played for 63 weeks in first run theaters. I’m going to say that again. It played for 63 weeks in first run theaters, and then went to second run theaters. Wings played in first run theaters for nearly 15 months, and was, by all measures, a huge success for its day. Clara Bow received the headline credit as Mary, the girl next door, even though her role was more of a supporting one. She was the prototypical 20’s flapper, and even though she was only 22 when Wings was released, she had already appeared in 40 films since 1922, and was one of the biggest stars of the decade. Starring with her were Charles “Buddy” Rogers as Jack and Richard Arlen as David. Both men were big stars in their own right, who were later able to make the transition to sound film, and had long, successful careers.

Wings is also the only silent film to take home the Best Picture Award until The Artist joined it more than 8 decades later.

As for the film itself, I found it to be very entertaining and surprisingly sophisticated. I had never seen it before, which is only notable because I took an American Silent Film class while I attended USC, and this film was not a part of the curriculum. However, another Academy Award winner from that year was on the curriculum. That film was Sunrise, which is a film a lot more people had heard of, and took home an equivalent award that year for most Unique and Artistic Production. The awards would be combined into one the following year.

Now that I’ve seen both films I have to say that Wings is the better of the two. It certainly has the most linear storyline and is a much more dramatic film as well. It’s about two small town boys who are rivals for the affections of the same girl, but grow into men after they become pilots in World War I. This film came out long before Syd Field or Christopher Vogler or Blake Snider or Robert McKee wrote their individual opuses on screenwriting and story structure, but is has a solid 3-Act structure as well as a well-defined Hero’s Journey. Jack is the main character of the film and he doesn’t recognize that Mary (Clara Bow), the girl who lives next door, is madly in love with him. Jack only has eyes for Sylvia, a rich girl from the other side of town, who happens to be in love with David, who comes from a family more in line with her social standing. The Ordinary World sees Jack and David competing for Sylvia’s affections as Mary tries in vain to get Jack to notice her. Jack doesn’t see that Sylvia is more interested in David. In his self absorbed world, Jack thinks that a photo of herself that Sylvia has left in a locket is for him, when Sylvia actually intended it for David. Jack tells her he’s going to keep it for luck, and David’s good luck charm ends up being a small stuffed bear that his mother had kept since he was a child.

Jack and David Cross the First Threshold and go into the Special World of World War I when they go to flight school. Years of rivalry boil over and they get into a fist fight, but that fight shows each the mettle that the other carries, and that turns into an unbreakable bond. They arrive at their tent and meet Cadet White (played by Gary Cooper), who is a veteran flyer and seems like he’ll be a mentor to them. However, White is killed that very day in a crash. Our heroes are undaunted, however, and they learn how to fly and become the best pilots in the army.

The first half of Act II shows Jack and David tearing it up and earning metals and accommodations for  their bravery and skill. While on leave in Paris, Mary, who has joined the war effort as an ambulance driver, sees Jack, drunk and fraternizing with other women. She’s heard that all leaves have been cancelled and all men are required to get back to the front under penalty of court martial. In his state, Jack doesn’t realize that the girl next door is helping save his career and his life.

Back at the line, Jack and David have one more confrontation over Sylvia. David has received letters from Sylvia telling him that Jack thinks he’s the object of her affection, but it’s really David who holds a special place in her heart. Thinking that David has betrayed him, Jack refuses to talk to him before they take off for what will be the last great battle of the War. We’re now in Act III.

Each man shows his heroism as David is shot down protecting a bomber. He manages to escape capture and steals a German plane in an attempt to get home. However, seeing the plane, an wanting revenge for his friend, Jack shoots the plane down. He lands and sees that he’s actually shot down Dave, who dies in his arms. Jack then goes through Dave’s personal things and sees the letters that Sylvia wrote to him. He realizes that David was being a good friend by not telling him about Sylvia’s true feelings, and he has his own epiphany about with whom he belongs.

The Return With the Elixir shows Jack going home, a man now, and receiving a hero’s welcome. He finds David’s parents and asks forgiveness. David’s mother tells Jack that he didn’t kill David. Rather it was the War. The film ends with David finding Mary and the two of them finally having the kiss that she’d been longing for.

This is a film with a complex plot, a series of subplots, intricate character relationships and an anti-war theme. There is depth to the characters and the main character grows and learns from his mistakes and ends the picture as a different person than when the picture started. If you haven’t seen it, and you’re an aspiring writer, this film can be very instructive on how to write an engaging story that you have to show without relying too heavily on dialogue.

One of Silent Films’ great learning tools for screenwriters is the fact that almost everything had to be shown rather than told.

I’d like to take a moment and discuss one more aspect of this films. The dogfight sequences are very impressive. They actually had stunt pilots fly in the sequences, and they did something very interesting when a plane was shot down. The plane would eject black smoke, and then the film makers painted fire directly on to the film. This was a technique that I learned about in my animation classes at USC,  and the film makers used it in this film in order to achieve a level of believability in their special effects. We were still decades away from even the types of effects that made Star Wars popular, let alone modern CG FX. I was very surprised when I saw this, and I can only imagine the affect it must have had on audiences of the late 1920’s to see that type of film making, because while the rest of the film is still black and white, the fire is bright yellow.

Did the Academy get it right?

I think they did. Certainly Sunrise could have won this award as well, but it wasn’t even nominated, as it received an equivalent award the same year. Two other films were nominated for Outstanding Picture. They were The Racket and Seventh Heaven. I’ve never seen either of those films, so I can’t comment on whether or not they were more deserving of the award. I can say, however, that based on seeing Wings it is a fine film and I would recommend that anyone interested in silent film should see it. I would also say that anyone interested in seeing a film that is instructive on quality storytelling should see this film as well.