FROM HERE TO ETERNITY(1953)

FROM HERE TO ETERNITY  (DIR: FRED ZINNEMANN) (SCR: DANIEL TARADASH, BASED ON THE NOVEL OF THE SAME NAME BY JAMES JONES)


After the disastrous choice of THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH the previous year, the Academy righted itself by awarding Fred Zinnemann's well made and well acted military drama FROM HERE TO ETERNITY the best picture of 1953; it was also an enormous box office hit.  It's hard to believe now, but for some time the idea of making a movie out of James Jones's novel was considered impossible.
The novel was published in 1951, and it was a big best seller.  But it was also so laced with profanity, sex and violence that many people in Hollywood thought that Columbia studio head Harry Cohn was crazy for buying the rights.  But he continued, hiring first Jones himself to adapt his own novel, and then replacing him with veteran screenwriter Daniel Taradash, who created a script that could pass muster with the production code: obviously, the profanity was thrown out, the violence became more implied than shown, a brothel became a nightclub (and the prostitutes became "hostesses"), and the overall sexual tone of the novel was toned down (although this film is about as sexy as a Hollywood movie could be at that time!).  Finally, so that a less negative light was thrown on the military, a corrupt officer is court marshaled in the film, when in the book he is promoted.  While Taradash's Oscar winning script occasionally lapses into soap opera territory, (especially in its depiction of an adulterous affair)and maybe has one character too many  give a speech outlining their back story, it is still intelligent and well written, and shows that adult material could be made under the production code in the right way.   Along with writing the script, Taradash also convinced Cohn to hire Zinnemann to direct.
The casting, which lead to more than one fight between Zinnemann and the studio (he threatened to leave the film unless Montgomery Clift was given the role of Robert E Lee Prewitt),  is just right in every part, from main players Clift, Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr (cast against type in a sexy role) to supporting actors Donna Reed, Ernest Borgnine and Frank Sinatra.  Sinatra, who's career was at a low point, lobbied hard for the role of Angelo Maggio, and may have even offered to pay for it!  It nearly went to Eli Wallach, but he chose to do a role on Broadway instead.  In Mario Puzo's 1969 novel THE GODFATHER(and in the 1972 movie of that novel) Puzo clearly implied that Sinatra was given the role because he had friends in the Mafia who pressured the studio, but these rumors have never been proven.  In any event,  Sinatra would turn out to be perfect for the part, playing a character that seemed written for him (that is, a boozy womanizer with a good nature but a hot temper) and the film's success, and the Oscar he won for best supporting actor, made him a star again.

Montgomery Clift and Frank Sinatra

The film's story takes place on a military base in Hawaii in 1941, and it focuses mainly on two men, Sergeant Milton Warden (Lancaster) and Private Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Clift).  Prewitt, who is new to the company, is a bugle player and former top flight boxer who gave up boxing after he blinded a friend while sparring.  His new commanding officer, Captain Dana Holmes(Philip Ober), wants him to box for the company, and when he refuses, Holmes orders his men to break Prewitt by targeting him for the worst kinds of physical labor, but he still refuses.  Meanwhile, Warden begins to have an illicit affair with the wife of Holmes(Kerr).  All of these problems are swept to the wayside when the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor (which Zinnemann shows in a striking mix of new footage and actual war footage).
The most famous scene in the movie is, of course, when Kerr and Lancaster make love on the beach while waves literally crash around them, and, after decades of far more graphic sex scenes, it still seems hot and passionate today.  I think this partly is because of it's context (here is a Sergeant who is risking everything to have an affair with his commanding officer's wife!) and partly because of the excellent chemistry between the two leads: when they first meet in an earlier scene, the sexual tension between them is almost palpable even without them touching.  It should also be noted how unusual the Deborah Kerr character is; here is a woman who has had more than one affair, but who nonetheless is likable and sympathetic, as it clear that she is reacting to her husband's own drunken infidelities.

Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr

Although the beach scene  may be what the film is best remembered for, I think its strongest element is Clift's performance; along with Marlon Brando and James Dean, Clift would come to define "cool" acting in the 1950's.  Like those two often did, Clift here plays someone who is tough but tender, frequently silent and brooding, and who is capable of quick sudden acts of violence when necessary.  Clift reportedly took the role very seriously, learning how to play the bugle and box (although, some what inevitably, his bugle playing would be dubbed over, and a body double was often used for him during his fight scene), and his intensity raises the entire movie.  He believably plays a character who can, at one moment play a tearful reverie for his dead friend Maggio, and then in the next hunt down the man responsible for Maggio's death and get into a knife fight with him. 
Other strong points for the film is Zinnemann's decision to shoot it in stark black and white (cinematographer Burnett Guffey won an Oscar for his excellent use of light and shadow), and to make it on location at the Shofield Barracks in Hawaii.  Most importantly, Zinnemann keeps the story believable,  moves it along briskly, and effectively shows how the entire world changed for these characters after the attack on Pearl Harbor.  All in all, I think this film earns its status as a classic.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

Obviously, I consider this a worthy movie, and although other fine films like SHANE, ROMAN HOLIDAY and THE BIG HEAT came out that year, I think this is the clear winner for that year.

THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH(1952)

THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH (DIR: CECIL B. DEMILLE) (SCR: FREDRIC M. FRANK, THEODORE ST. JOHN, AND FRANK CAVETT)

There is a general consensus that 1952's THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH is the least deserving best picture winner ever, and I must say that that is an opinion I agree with whole heartedly, and I'll go further: it's one of the worst all star, big budget movies ever.  From it's terrible script to its leaden direction, it's truly a bloated, dumb, loud awful film.  The only possible entertainment it provides is in laughing at its ridiculous excesses.  Excesses brought to you by the king of overblown movies, Cecil B. DeMille.
DeMille's cinematic career stretched all the way back to the days of silent films, of which he directed many, and in which he showed a flair for big spectacle scenes.   Personally, I think DeMille hit his peak in those  days, (I consider his 1927 film KING OF KINGS to be the best version of the Christ story ever  filmed) when his gift for strong visuals and big crowd scenes overcame his poor direction of actors in more intimate scenes.  Indeed, many of the actors in his sound films seemed to use the same broad and dramatic gestures that silent actors used, to often laughable affect.

James Stewart, Cornel Wilde and Charleton Heston display some not so subtle acting

  
Matters of opinion aside, one thing was true, by the time he made THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH, DeMille was one of the most famous directors in Hollywood, and one of the few who's name was known to the general public, as he often made radio and TV appearances as himself, and he also played himself in 1950's SUNSET BOULEVARD.  He was so successful that he had his own production company (called Cecil B. DeMille productions, he never lacked in ego!), and, in 1948, when David O Selznik's attempt to raise money for a behind the scenes look at the circus failed, he stepped in and bought the rights, holding a press conference to announce the start of production with none other than John Ringling of The  Ringling's Bros. Circus attending.  (He would also pay that circus $250,000 for the use of their facilities and rights to the film's title that the circus used in promoting itself.)  It is no surprise that DeMille would be attracted to the material, given his own penchant for hyperbolicly narrating his own films like a ringmaster, and he embarked on a tour with the circus for research purposes, while various writers worked on the script.  Eventually, writers Frederic M Frank, Theodore St. John and Frank Cavett would cobble together a bunch of show business stereotypes and cliche's and work them into a circus setting, while being sure to add a big (and utterly ridiculous) train wreck at the film's end to satisfy DeMille's need for spectacle, and he was satisfied. 
With a lousy script all set, he went on to some terrible casting: first, there is Charleton Heston as Brad, the idealistic circus owner.  Now you would think that a guy so dedicated to entertaining people might be a fun, good natured person, but instead he comes across as so dour, self righteous and stoic that he's hard to care about.  Honestly, his performance as Moses three years later would be less serious! Then there's Cornel Wilde as trapeze artist The Great Sebastian, an egotistical womanizer with a fake French accent that resembles that of the cartoon skunk Pepe Le Pew.  Although Wilde does try to bring a little humor to the role, he's so unlikable that when an accident occurs that may lead to his never being able to perform again, DeMille's attempts to wring drama from the situation are utterly false; as with the Heston character, it's difficult to care. Then there is Betty Hutton as Holly, another trapeze artist; Hutton uses her brand of over the top perky blandness to an annoying extent, and even worse, she is at the center of a love triangle between Wilde and Heston in which nobody seems to deserve anybody!  Dorothy Lamour appears as generic circus performer Phylis, and fails to make any kind of impression, still she should be mentioned because she sings a song called "Lovely Luawana Lady" with lyrics that are as idiotic as its title.  Slinky Gloria Grahame as animal trainer Angel gives the film's least embarrassing performance, but even she has to suffer through a scene in which her jealous animal trainer boyfriend (Lyle Bettger) threatens to have her face stomped in by an elephant.  Finally, there is Jimmy Stewart as the clown Buttons, who never takes off his makeup because of his mysterious past(!).  Stewart is one of the great movie stars, but one thing he was never known for was physical comedy; casting him as a clown was an enormous error, as we see when none of his clowning scenes are even remotely funny (although, in all fairness to Stewart, none of the clowns in the film are funny, no not even the famous Emmett Kelly). And if casting Stewart as a clown was a mistake, having him sing was an even bigger one: yes, there is a moment when Stewart, Hutton, Kelly and a little person bounce on a trampoline  while singing a song entitled "Be a Jumping-Jack". (A typical lyric: "Keep on the hop, and if you flop, and everything looks black, stand on your head and holler 'hi there!' Be a jumping jack!" ) This moment is so jaw droopingly awful, so utterly misguided (it's not even performed before an audience, it's just supposed to show how circus performers spend their free time!) that it must be seen to be believed.  I consider it one of the worst musical numbers in a big budget Hollywood film ever.

Betty Hutton and James Stewart bounce through a terrible song

  And as a crowning glory to the lousy performances, DeMille himself narrates the film in such over the top, ham handed tones that he makes a circus moving into town sound like a play by play of the second coming.
Along with the terrible performances and moronic script, there is another, deeper flaw in the film's very conception; the reason that death defying circus performances are entertaining to a live audience lies in the fact  that the performers are risking life and limb right there in front of you, and that at any moment something might go wrong.  None of this excitement can translate to a movie, where watching actors pretend to perform dangerous tricks quickly becomes tedious, since we know nothing bad will happen until the script demands it.   Only live performance can give that sense of danger that's necessary to thrilling circus acts.  Other kinds of circus acts come across even worse on the big screen; honestly, the only thing in the world I find more boring than a never ending circus parade is a movie of one.  And  DeMille's desire to be authentic means that he usually places the camera in the circus audience's point of view  during the various acts; oddly, he gives the audience a lousy seat that's too far away from the action.  Even his direction of the extras playing the circus crowd is terrible; at one point we see a grown man get excited at the sight of a circus performer dressed as Mickey Mouse!

And to add to the film's undeserved win for Best Picture, there are rumors that the only reason it won was because DeMille was an ardent anti Communist, and Hollywood was being investigated at the time by the House of UnAmerican Activities Committee.  By naming his film the Best Picture of the year, Hollywood could disprove rumors of Communist influence. Which is no reason to reward a film this lousy. 

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

I think the reader can guess where I stand on that question; really, there is almost nothing good I can say about this film (unfortunately, it proved to an enormous box office hit, proving DeMille's quote: "Every time I make a picture the critics' estimate of American public taste goes down ten percent." ) The number of superior films released that year is long: HIGH NOON, THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL, THE QUIET MAN, VIVA ZAPATA!, LIMELIGHT, THE LAVENDER HILL MOB, and my personal favorite SINGIN' IN THE RAIN.  Really, I think almost any movie from that year chosen at random couldn't possibly be worse than THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH.

AN AMERICAN IN PARIS (1951)

AN AMERICAN IN PARIS (DIR: VINCENT MINNELLI) (SCR: ALAN JAY LERNER)

For the best picture of 1951 the Academy picked director Vincent Minnelli's AN AMERICAN IN PARIS, (the first musical to win since 1944's GOING MY WAY) and it's one of the most lighthearted best picture winners ever; with its lovely Ira Gershwin score, beautiful technicolor photography and talented cast, it was an obvious choice, but the film's flimsy story keeps it, in my opinion, just short of classic status. Unbeknownst to the Academy, Gene Kelly would team up with director Stanley Donen a year later and make SINGIN' IN THE RAIN, a better musical in every way.
While I am certainly a fan of the films of Fred Astaire, I think overall Gene Kelly was the best song and dance movie star ever; I find his more physical and masculine style of dance more engaging than Astaire's somewhat effete nimbleness.  And I think Kelly was a better singer and actor than Astaire, with Astaire's screen presence only really coming alive when he started to dance.   Kelly's career in Hollywood began when he left Broadway in 1942 to make the musical ME AND MY GAL with Judy Garland and decided to stay.  Minnelli's career also began in Broadway, and he moved to Hollywood in 1943 to direct CABIN IN THE SKY.  Before AN AMERICAN IN PARIS the two men had worked together in 1945's ZIEGFELD FOLLIES (in which Minnelli directed Kelly and Astaire dancing together for the first time) and 1948's THE PIRATE.  The idea for AN AMERICAN IN PARIS began when the two of them wanted to do a new kind of dance scene in a movie, a long, big, bold one that would feature ballet style dancing by a large cast, along with huge sets and many costume changes, and absolutely no singing or speaking.  (It's precedent can be seen in a short ballet fantasy scene in 1949's ON THE TOWN, directed by Stanley Donen and starring Kelly).  At first MGM studio executives were dubious on the idea, until Kelly and Minnelli screened 1948's Micheal Powell and Emeric Pressburger film THE RED SHOES for them to give them an idea of what they were looking for.
With the green light given, Alan J Lerner was commissioned to write a script around the star and the director's concept, and the rights to Ira Gershwin's score was bought.  Initially, Kelly hoped to shoot the film on location, but that was considered too complicated by the studio, and the film was shot entirely on MGM sets except for a few travelogue shots at the beginning.  (Personally, I think this detracts from the film quite a bit.)  One thing Kelly did get was his choice of leading lady: 19 year old Leslie Caron, a dancer he had seen while vacationing in Paris; this would be her film debut.

Leslie Caron and Gene Kelly

The film's story deals with Jerry Mulligan (Gene Kelly), a former GI who chose to stay in Paris and paint after World War II.  He eventually meets Milo Roberts(Nina Foch),  a wealthy, attractive American woman  who likes both him and his art.  But instead he falls for pretty Lise Bouvier (Caron), not knowing that she is already involved with cabaret singer Henri Baurel (Georges Guetary).  This simple story is really just framework to hang the musical scenes on, but that's not entirely a bad thing, given how good those scenes are.  In contrast to the big ballet fantasy at the end, (which is clearly supposed to be inside Jerry's imagination) the other big dance moments in the film have a charmingly offhand manner about them, as if Kelly's dancing springs from an honest spontaneous desire by his character to tap dance in his apartment room or show off different moves to impress a group of children.  And I like the film's romanticized view of Paris, where struggling artists living in charmingly ramshackle apartments, while cafe society is in full swing.  I also enjoy the casting of Oscar Levant as Jerry's American friend Adam; Levant gets a chance to show off his excellent musical skills in a solo piano number, and his hang dog expressions and dour line delivery make him an excellent foil to the sunny, optimistic Kelly.

The pure spectacle of the final dance scene

Finally, there is that final ballet fantasy sequence, the moment that the entire film is building up to; it is indeed, one impressive spectacle, that reportedly took an entire month to film and cost half a million dollars.  In it, Kelly pursues Caron thorough numerous gorgeous sets based on paintings by famous French impressionist painters like Toulouse-Lautrec.  At seventeen minutes, it never seems to lag, with costume and set changes coming quickly as Minnelli's camera swoops around the dancers, as graceful as their movements. Impressively, intimate dance moments between the two leads are often followed by a cast of literally hundreds of dancers moving in unison.  Still, I think that Kelly topped even this excellent scene with the "Broadway Rhythm" sequence from SINGIN' IN THE RAIN a year later.

I mentioned the thinness of the story, and while it doesn't ruin the film, it certainly is noticeable at times, with the romance between Jerry and Lise moving in a predictable way, while poor Nina Foch's Milo, a far more interesting character than Lise,  is barely used.  Even worse is the way that are two lovers meet: Jerry spies Lise in a cafe, is immediately smitten, and pursues even when she shows no interest.  His aggression seems downright rude!  And while Caron is obviously a talented dancer, her acting here is not particularly impressive, and her chemistry with Kelly only really works when she dances.  Still, this film features Kelly in some of his best onscreen dance scenes ever, bursting with energy and grace, and for that alone it is terrific and worth seeing.  I've already compared it to SINGIN' IN THE RAIN more than once, and it's hard not to do since both films star Kelly and were released back to back, so let me compare them one last time:  AN AMERICAN IN PARIS is a very good Hollywood musical, SINGIN' IN THE RAIN is perhaps the best Hollywood musical ever.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?
It's easy to see while the Academy was impressed with this film, and, given it's classy style (sets inspired by French impressionist painters!) it was a safe choice for best picture.   But there were better films that year, such as Alfred Hitchcock's STRANGERS ON A TRAIN, Elia Kazan's A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE, John Huston's THE AFRICAN QUEEN, and Billy Wilder's THE BIG CARNIVAL.  Still, the Academy could have done much worse than AN AMERICAN IN PARIS, as they would show in their choice for the next best picture award...

ALL ABOUT EVE (1950)

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ALL ABOUT EVE (DIR: JOSEPH L. MANKIEWICZ) (SCR: MANKIEWIZC, BASED ON THE SHORT STORY "THE WISDOM OF EVE" BY MARY ORR)

After picking ALL THE KING'S MEN in 1949, which cast a cynical eye at modern politics, the Academy turned to a film that looked at the Broadway theater world with the same harsh gaze, but this time the cynicism was coated with acidic wit.  ALL ABOUT EVE's win for best picture seemed inevitable, given that it was nominated for a then record breaking fourteen awards, and, while it's box office was relatively modest,(around four million dollars on a million and a half dollar budget) it quickly became a cult film, especially for fans of star Bette Davis, or for anyone who enjoys sharp, clever dialogue well delivered by an attractive cast.
It's life began when a 1946 issue of Cosmopolitan magazine ran a short story by Mary Orr entitled "The Wisdom of Eve".  Orr based the story on actress Elisabeth Bergner, who, after hiring an admiring fan to be her personal assistant, found that the young woman was using her to advance her own acting career.  Director Joseph L. Mankiewicz read the story and believed that he could combine it with an idea he had about an aging actress, and he convinced 20th. Century Fox studio head Darryl F. Zanuck to buy the rights to the story. Mankiewicz's career stretched back to writing title cards for silent films, before he began screenwriting, and finally, directing (with 1946's BACKFIRE).  By the time he started working on EVE, he was at the top of his game after winning Oscars for both the writing and the direction of 1949's A LETTER TO THREE WIVES.  On the strength of that film, he became known as a writer and director of films for and about women, a reputation which EVE would certainly confirm.

Bette Davis

His skill at casting would prove to be perfect, with stars like Anne Baxter, Celeste Holm and George Saunders breathing life into his smart script, not to mention a young Marilyn Monroe in her first substantial role. And of course there was Bette Davis; considering how perfect Davis was for the major part of Margo Channing, it seems hard to believe that Claudette Colbert was initially cast, and that Davis was called in on a week's notice when Colbert suffered a ruptured disc.  Colbert's loss would be Davis' gain; although she would lose the best actress award that year to Judy Holliday in BORN YESTERDAY,  Margo Channing would probably prove to be the legendary star's best remembered and most revered role.


The movie begins at a theatrical award banquet being given in honor of Eve Carrington (Baxter), a pretty young new starlet.  In voice over, Addison Dewitt (Saunders), setting the tone of sharp humor that will continue through the film, tells the audience a little about the evening's guests, and then in flashback we see how they all got there.  About a year earlier, Karen (Holm) wife of playwright Lloyd Richards (Hugh Marlowe), met Eve standing outside the dressing room of big theatrical star Margo Channing.  Karen recognizes  Eve because the young woman  has gone to each performance of Margo's current play without fail.  Karen invites the shy woman in to meet Margo, and when Eve tells them all the sad story of the death of her soldier husband, and how she has become entranced by Margo on the stage, Margo is touched, and before you know it Eve has become her personal assistant.  At first, Eve seems innocent and supportive of Margo, but slowly but surely he begins to intrude upon her life, even trying to seduce Margo's boyfriend,  Bill Sampson(Gary Merrill).
Although Davis's performance  is mostly  remembered for the way she gleefully rips through her catty lines ("Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy night!" and "I detest cheap sentiment!"), it should also be noted for her more subtle moments, her Margo is vain and self pitying, but also likable and vulnerable in her fear of aging and loneliness.  She wonderfully delivers a moving speech to Karen about her fear of being alone when she thinks she's losing Bill, and there is  excellent romantic chemistry between her and  Merrill (which was not all pretend, she would marry Merrill shortly after the film wrapped).  And, while she looks great, wearing gowns designed by famed costume designer Edith Head, she's also willing to show her natural age, especially in a scene where she is awakened from a deep sleep.
While Davis may dominate the film, Baxter is every bit as good as the duplicitous Eve; hers is in many ways the trickier role, since Eve so rarely displays her real emotions,  and Baxter believably gives a performance within a performance, perfectly playing the wide eyed innocent and completely fooling Margo and her friends(except for Thelma Ritter's Birdie, who is on to Eve from the start).  I love the way that Eve poses in the mirror with one of Margo's stage costumes when she thinks no one is looking, or the way that she turns from kind to cruel when she tries to blackmail Karen.

Anne Baxter

While the film is full of virtues, it is not perfect; at two hours and fifteen minutes, it drags at times, especially towards the end.  (Eve's final, unnecessary speech at the awards show is a good example of this).  And I think Mankiewicz's skills as a screenwriter exceed his skills as a director; for a film with so many memorable lines, there are no memorable images.  And at times, the characters onscreen seem crowded in;  he also often allows static takes to go on for too long.  And even the script has some problems:  while I enjoy Addison Dewitt's narration, further narration from Margo and Karen adds nothing and could easily have been cut.  And why does Thelma Ritter's very funny Birdie character disappear from the second half of the film?  She steals every scene she's in, so I would have liked to have seen more of her, especially since she is proven right about Eve.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

While it's easy to see why the Academy would award such a intelligent and sophisticated film, there was another film that year that also took a harsh look at the underbelly of show business, and it too would go on to become a cult film: Billy Wilder's SUNSET BOULEVARD.  While it's not surprising that the Academy would avoid awarding Wilder's film, seeing as it was Hollywood itself that Wilder was criticizing, I think that his film holds up just a little bit better than ALL ABOUT EVE.  (Interestingly, both films would eventually be adapted into Broadway musicals). Still, EVE is far from a bad choice.  I should also mention Carol Reed's outstanding thriller THE THIRD MAN, with Orson Welles playing one of the best movie villains ever, would also have been a good choice.

ALL THE KING'S MEN (1949)

 ALL THE KING'S MEN (DIR: ROBERT ROSSEN) (SCR: ROSSEN, BASED ON THE NOVEL OF THE SAME NAME BY ROBERT PENN WARREN)

The best picture choice for 1949 makes for an interesting bookend to 1947's winner GENTLEMEN'S AGREEMENT.  Just as the earlier film showed a postwar America riddled with bigotry and antisemitism, so ALL THE KING'S MEN portrays the modern American political system as one rife with corruption, where demagogic, power mad politicians rule with an iron hand and manipulate the voters like sheep.   Although the film takes place in just one (unnamed) Southern state, clearly it is intended to represent the country's political scene as a whole, and, sadly, it is a portrayal that has not dated a bit.  It is interesting to note that when John Wayne was offered the lead role by director Robert Rossen, Wayne angrily turned it down, claiming that the film was unpatriotic.  Also, both Rossen and GENTLEMAN'S AGREEMENT director Elia Kazan would be called to testify at the House of UnAmerican Activities Committee as suspected Communists shortly after making these films.

ALL THE KING'S MEN began life as a novel by Robert Penn Warren published in 1946 to much acclaim and a Pulitzer prize.  It tells the tale of politician Willie Stark, who was loosely based on real life Louisiana governor Huey Long (the novel even ends with Stark's assassination at the state court house, which is the same way that Long died).  Columbia Pictures bought the movie rights to the novel for $250,000 dollars, and hired Rossen to both write and direct.  (Rossen had directed just two films before this, but he had been a screenwriter for years before becoming a director).  Columbia reportedly wanted Spencer Tracy to play Stark, but Rossen chose Broderick Crawford, who, until this film, was mostly known for small character parts; Rossen had been impressed by Crawford when he saw him on stage as Lenny in OF MICE AND MEN, and eventually he persuaded the studio to hire Crawford, who was anxious to do the role.
Another unusual decision by Rossen  (one that was influenced by the neorealist films coming out of Italy around that time)was to shoot the film in an almost documentary style; many of the exteriors were shot in small towns in California and real townspeople were hired for small roles,  and the crowd scenes often have the feeling of being more like a newsreel than a Hollywood film. Furthermore, even  the interior scenes are set in real (or real looking) houses and offices, and Rossen and cinematographer Burnett Guffey avoided close ups of the actors and often stacked them together tightly in small rooms to build a  sense of tension and conflict.
The film opens with newspaper reporter Jack Burden (John Ireland) being sent to a small Southern town to cover the story of Willie Stark, known as "the last honest man."  Willie is running for city council, hoping to reform what he sees as an unjust system, and Jack is taken with him and writes stories praising his bravery.  Although he loses the election, Willie puts himself through law school and starts representing the causes of the poor people in the town.  Eventually, he is picked to run as governor, but, he discovers that he was hired to split the "hick" vote and push the election towards another candidate.  His anger over this causes him to drunkenly improvise an angry speech, and, in an electrifying scene, he calls the audience hicks, but then admits that he is one too ("nobody ever helped a hick but a hick himself".)  The speech fires up the crowd, and even though he eventually loses the race, he is invigorated, saying that he now knows "how to win."  Sure enough, he becomes governor in the next election, and he often rules the state more like a mob boss than a politician, using his power to force bills through the legislature.  Even though he is shown doing some good, like building a new hospital, his administration is often outright criminal, at one point even murder is used to dispose of an unwanted adversary.  Ironically, it is his personal life that causes his downfall, not his political one; right after barely beating an impeachment attempt over that murder (which, of course, could not be proven to be connected to Willie), he is shot and killed by the brother of a young woman that the married Willie had been running around with.

Broderick Crawford

With his bulldog like features, large frame and gruff voice, Broderick Crawford was an unlikely leading man, but he was perfect for the role and won an Oscar for it.  It's really impossible to underplay a character like Willie Stark, and he certainly realized that!  He is totally believable as he goes from honest crusader to corrupt politician, loving family man to womanizer and teetotaler to drunk.  He is likable and admirable in the early scenes as he rails against injustice, and then equally despicable as he learns how to play politics and sells his soul for power, and Crawford  really comes alive in the excellently written political speeches he makes in which he grandstands like a real politician.  We really believe that he can connect with the common man, even if he himself is no longer one of them.
The film also has the debut performance of Mercedes McCambridge, who plays the  secretary Sadie Burke, and who also won an Oscar for best supporting actress.  With her deep voice and rough features, McCambridge is as unlikely a leading lady as Crawford was a leading man, but she is well cast as the smart, cynical Sadie and she would go on to play similar roles for the rest of her career. Although there is some sexism in the script's portrayal of Sadie's tough career woman leading  Willie into the dark side of politics (she is the one who tells him that he's just a patsy in his first gubernatorial race, and then gets him drunk and seduces him, inspiring his angry, career making speech),   McCambridge is so good in the role that we can't help but admire her ambition and drive.  She also brings some tenderness to the role, as she really does fall for Willie, and she has a nice moment where she looks in the mirror and jealously admits that she is not like the glamor girl that Willie is currently running around with.

Mercedes McCambridge

The film's dark view of American politics is striking and uncompromising: when Willie defends himself by saying he's no worse than other men ("Man is conceived in sin and born in corruption. He passes from the stink of the dydie to the stench of the shroud.") it seems like a simple justification.  But, later in the film, when faced with impeachment, Willie uncovers old, embarrassing information about an influential judge (Raymond Greenleaf) who, up until that moment, had been the personification of moral rectitude, in many ways proving Willie's point.  While the judge may not be the outright crook that Willie is, he too has made moral compromises, the kind of compromises that, according to the film,  all powerful people must make. Just how cynical about politics is this film?  It's important to note that Willie first gets into politics with noble gains, and that he only becomes corrupt when he realizes that that is the only way to win; it isn't Willie that's corrupt, it's the system itself that's corruptive. He's just a fast learner; from making sure to use tough guys to hand out his fliers,  to visiting his estranged family for a  good photo opportunity, to gathering his supporters to chant for him during his impeachment proceedings, he is a master of manipulation, getting the people's support as he gets away with murder.  And even if Willie's reign of terror is ended with his death, there are surely more men like him waiting in the wings.

If the film has a flaw, it is in the Jack Burden character, who's descent into corruption with Willie is not as convincing, or as compelling as Willie's.  Every time the film moves away from Willie to Jack it bogs down, and Jack's sporadic narration of the film is unnecessary and uninteresting.  Really, how could any other character be as interesting as Crawford's Willie Stark?


SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

Clearly, I consider this an excellent film and a worthy (and bold) choice for best picture.  Although the year also gave us such good films as A LETTER TO THREE WIVES, THE HEIRESS and ON THE TOWN, I think ALL THE KING'S MEN was a fine choice. 

HAMLET (1948)

HAMLET (DIR: LAURENCE OLIVIER) (SCR:  OLIVIER, BASED ON THE PLAY BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE)


The Academy's choice for best picture of 1948 could not possibly be classier: it is, quite simply, the movie version of the most famous play ever, adapted, directed and starring the most famous Shakespearean actor of the 20th. century (and maybe of all time).  The Academy was so impressed with Laurence Olivier's work that he also won for best actor, (the first director to direct himself to a best actor award ever, it was also the first foreign made film to win best picture) although he lost the best director award to John Huston for THE TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE.

The English born Olivier began his career in 1926 at age 19 when he joined the Birmingham Repertory Company, where he swiftly moved into lead roles in Hamlet and Macbeth.  He debuted in movies in 1930, in a short film called TOO MANY CROOKS (which is believed to be lost ).  He would go on to play many other roles on the screen; his first Shakespearean role was as Orlando in director Paul Czinner's 1936 production of AS YOU LIKE IT.  Initially, he was unimpressed by the cinema, thinking it a lower form of art when compared to live theater.  That view changed for him when he starred as Heathcliff in William Wyler's 1939 filming of Emily Bronte's novel WUTHERING HEIGHTS.  The acclaim and success that he won for that role (along with the fact that he learned how to tone down his theatrical acting style for the screen) changed his mind about film.  In 1944 he directed himself in the title role of Shakespeare's HENRY V, which he turned into a rousing war time propaganda story, and it was somewhat inevitable that he would eventually tackle the immortal bard's most famous work(versions of Hamlet had been filmed before as far back as the silent era, but a definitive version still had yet to be made).  And so it was that he got the British film company, Two Cities Films, to put up the two million dollar budget, (a still impressive amount for the time), under the proviso that he himself would play the title role.  They also stipulated that the film not run over two and half hours, which lead to Olivier making some cuts to the original text.  The film would become an enormous international hit, although some Shakespeare purists would quibble over some of those deletions.

Laurence Olivier

HAMLET tells the story of Danish prince Hamlet, who discovers, through a ghostly appearance by his late father, that his uncle Claudius (Basil Sydney), murdered his father to take over the throne and marry Hamlet's mother, Gertrude (Eileen Herlie).  This shocking news seems to drive him insane, as he indecisively debates to himself whether or not to avenge his father.  Inevitably, his delay leads to tragedy.
As an actor, Olivier's portrayal of Hamlet is controlled; emotional without being over the top, he rarely raises his voice or makes broad gestures(unlike some Hamlets I've seen on stage or in films), instead he finds the poetic humor and beauty in the dialogue and delivers it beautifully.  And there is  a surprisingly raw sexuality in his scenes with Ophelia (Jean Simmons), and in the stark incestual overtones he has with Gertrude.  He is also excellent in the physical scenes, like in his duel with Laertes (Terence Morgan), or in his final leap down a flight of stairs at Claudius.  If I have a problem with him in the film, it's that at 41 I think he was too old for the role; amazingly, Herlie played his mother even though she was only 28!  Along with Olivier, the entire cast of the film is excellent, especially Simmons's marvelous performance as the tragic Ophelia.
As a director, Olivier seemed determined to remind the audience that this was a movie and not a play; his camera swoops and prowls all around the dark, shadowy castle sets, (it moves, perhaps, a little too much)and he often uses voice overs to deliver Hamlet's soliloquies.  The famous "to be or not to be" speech is delivered partly in voice over and partly spoken, an excellent way to show Hamlet's inner debate with himself.  Although the sets often have a sparse, artificial look about them, Olivier still displays many striking visuals:  the appearance of the ghostly king is filmed like a horror movie, as it should be, while the watery death of Ophelia is beautifully and touchingly rendered. 

Jean Simmons as Ophelia

The film opens with Olivier announcing that "This is the tragedy of a man who could not make up his mind."  Many critics have felt that this reduces the complexities of the play to a simple line, and while there is some truth in that, Olivier was clearly thinking of main stream audiences and their understanding of the play when he decided to include this line, and if it helped people get the play, then what's the harm in it?  Another more stinging criticism of the movie is the aforementioned cutting that Olivier had to do, which meant that the characters of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are completely eliminated (although Olivier gave some of Guilderstern's lines to Felix Alymer's Polonius).  Personally, I really miss the "What a piece of work is a man!" speech that Hamlet delivers to those two characters in the play, and I wish that Olivier had found some way to include it, and to instead cut out some of Ophelia's crazy scenes, which come across as a bit repetitive.  Still, if cuts had to be made, it would seem that for the most part, Olivier made the right choices, keeping the real meat of the story, along with the most legendary phrases.   And, at one hundred and fifty minutes, the film never drags.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

Overall, it is difficult to find  fault with the Academy's choice, and as a record of a legendary actor giving his most famous performance, HAMLET holds up.  But, Olivier felt (and I agree) that his best cinematic Shakespearean work would come in 1955 when he played the title role in RICHARD III.  And as for the play Hamlet, in 1996 Kenneth Branagh made a version that I feel is superior to Olivier's; not only does the later version contain every word of the play, but it opens the story up more cinematically than Olivier's, making it, in my opinion, the best version of the play ever filmed that I've seen.  Finally, I have already mentioned that John Huston won the best director award of 1948 for THE TREASURE OF SIERRA MADRE, and I personally feel that that film holds up better than Olivier's, and that it should have won best picture.  Still, it's always hard to argue against Shakespeare.

GENTLEMAN'S AGREEMENT (1947)

GENTLEMAN'S AGREEMENT (DIR: ELIA KAZAN) (SCR: MOSS HART, BASED ON THE NOVEL BY LAURA Z HOBSON)

The Academy's pick for best picture of 1947 was a bold choice; although the film was an enormous success, it is that rare best picture winner that looked squarely at a serious problem in a modern setting.  Although today the film seems dated and heavy handed, it's message was powerful then, and it was one of the first films to take on anti-Semitism.
The film began life as a serialized novel for Cosmopolitan magazine by Laura Z Hobson, a Jewish woman who wrote it after being disgusted by the public ant-Semitic comments made by Congressman John Rankin.  An extremely popular book, 20th. Century Fox's studio head Darryl F. Zanuck paid $75,000 dollars for the rights.  Not surprisingly, the same Hollywood that avoided the subject of anti-Semitism in 1937's THE LIFE OF EMILE ZOLA, even though it played a role in the true story that the film was based on, was worried about the idea of tackling the subject head on. Other studio heads (who were mostly Jewish) tried to dissuade Zanuck (who wasn't Jewish) from making it, fearing that the film would stir up trouble, but he forged ahead.  For the film's director, he chose Elia Kazan(who wasn't Jewish, but who had a history of directing plays that had social commentary in his early theater days), who had made three feature films already (the most notable being 1945's A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN), and to adapt the novel he picked playwright Moss Hart.  This was a bit of a surprise, since before this Hart was mostly known for writing comedic plays like YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU (Which was turned into a best picture winning film by Frank Capra in 1938) and THE MAN WHO CAME TO DINNER.  But the Jewish Hart felt so strongly about the film that he was willing to work for minimum pay just to be involved, and he delivered a mostly effective script that does contain a few welcome moments of wit.  Upon the film's release, Zanuck would be vindicated when the film became a big hit and won critical acclaim, and, of course, the Oscar for best picture.

The film begins with Philip Green (Gregory Peck), a widower and single father, arriving in New York City with his son (Dean Stockwell) and mother (Anne Revere)  to begin writing for a successful magazine.  At a party he meets his boss's niece, Kathy (Dorothy McGuire), and there is an immediate attraction between them.    When assigned to do an article about anti-Semitism, Philip can't seem to come up with any new ideas.  Then, it hits him, why doesn't he pretend to be Jewish for six months, so that he can write an inside story about the subject.  And, since he's new in town, few people will know that he's just pretending.  His boss, (Albert Dekker) loves the idea, but some of his Jewish colleagues are afraid that it will make trouble (this scene is believed to be based on the Jewish film producers trying to talk Zanuck out of making the film).  Philip goes ahead with the idea anyway and,

inevitably, he discovers more than he originally bargained for, especially when he finds anti-Semitic hiring practices in the very magazine that he's writing for.  Also, it begins to affect his relationship with Kathy; although she is initially supportive of him, when she realizes that she will have to tell her friends and family that her new love is Jewish, (he demands that she not tell her loved ones about the article) she begins to waiver.

Alan Garfield, Gregory Peck, Dorothy McGuire, and Celeste Holm

In the lead role, Gregory Peck is just fine, and he has good romantic chemistry with McGuire( I love the way that she looks overwhelmed after their first kiss); unfortunately, as his character delves deeper and deeper into his experiment, he often comes across as too rigid and self righteous, although to be fair, this is  really more of a script problem than anything to do with his acting.  McGuire is also good in the role of Kathy, which is a far trickier character to portray than Peck's; unlike his, her character isn't always sympathetic, as her own prejudices begin to surface before she realizes that silent acceptance of prejudice in others is almost as bad as exhibiting it yourself.  The supporting performances by Celeste Holm (as Anne Dettry, the fashion editor at Philip's magazine) and Alan Garfield (as Dave Goldman, Philip's old army buddy), are actually better than the leads; Holm, who was awarded a best supporting actress award, is funny and likable as the lovely but lonely fashion editor.  In fact, she is so endearing that I found myself wishing that Philip would wind up with her at the end instead of reuniting with Kathy.  Garfield, on the other hand, normally played lead roles, but was willing to take a smaller role here because he felt strongly about the film.  He is excellent as the Jewish friend that advises Philip during the article; in one good scene he points out to Philip that his anger over all the bigotry he's seen since he began the article comes from not having experienced it for a lifetime ("You're not insulated yet, Phil. The impact must be quite a business on you.").  But even Garfield has his breaking point, as we see in a tense confrontation he has with an insulting drunk.

Alan Garfield reaches his breaking point

The film's attitude on anti-Semitism is harsh and unblinking; it is portrayed as a fact of life, with restricted hotels and hiring practices commonplace.  It even shows how it can effect Jews themselves, with Phil's Jewish secretary lying about her name to get hired, and then fearing that the hiring of openly Jewish people at the magazine might result in the "wrong kind" being hired.  It is admirable that the film take such a critical view of American society, especially given the country's postwar optimism.  Unfortunately, once the film's point has been made, it becomes repetitive and overly strident, with one too many well intentioned speeches given in the film's final half hour. And, although there is a nice scene where Philip explains to his young son about the differences in the way different religions choose to worship, I wish the film at least had the guts to mention Jesus as part of that difference.  It also becomes too hung up on its love story when I wish it focused more on Philip's article and the effect it has when its published.  Still, this is a strong, well made film (Kazan shoots it in a mostly realistic style that works well for the story) with noble intentions.
In a sad bit of irony, the House of UnAmerican Activities Committee would begin it's investigation of Communism in Hollywood shortly after this film's release, and the committee would display the same kind of anti-Semitism that the film criticizes.  Many of the people called to testify before the committee were chosen because of their surnames (for example:  Danny Kaye, who's real last name was Kaminski).  Garfield (real last name Garfinkle) was called, as was Kazan; many people believe that the resulting stress of the investigation greatly contributed to Garfield's fatal heart attack in 1952.  As for Kazan, I will discuss his behavior in front of the committee when we get his next best picture winner,  1954's ON THE WATERFRONT.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

Despite the film's financial success, it was still daring to pick a film that took on a controversial subject for best picture, and for that, I applaud the Academy.  But I don't find it to be the best film of that year; the excellent Dicken's adaptation,  GREAT EXPECTATIONS by David Lean, the classic noir OUT OF THE PAST by Jaques Tourneur and Charlie Chaplin's pitch black comedy MONSIEUR VERDOUX (in which he really put his Tramp character to rest!) are all superior.  And many old movie fans would say that perennial holiday favorite MIRACLE ON 34TH. STREET should have won, although I'm not as big a fan of that film as some people are.

THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (1946)

THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (DIR: WILLIAM WYLER) (SCR: ROBERT  E. SHERWOOD, BASED ON MACKINLAY KANTOR'S NOVEL, GLORY FOR ME)


After awarding two films in row that almost completely ignored the war, the Academy turned around in a big way, giving the award to what would be remembered as the ultimate story of postwar America, William Wyler's THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES.   "Every family in America is a part of this story!"  producer Samuel Goldwyn announced, and nearly all of them would see it, as it went on to be an enormous commercial success delivering  over ten million dollars in box office returns on a two million dollar budget.  And while it may have been about a very specific time and place, it has endured as a moving, powerful snapshot of American history, and also as a cinematic thank you note to the brave men who risked life and limb in the war, very much in the spirit of Tom Brokaw's book, THE GREATEST GENERATION.
Wyler was the perfect director for the material, given that, after directing MRS MINIVER, 1942's  best picture winner, he enlisted in the air force, where he shot documentary war films.   Right away, Wyler made the right decision in hiring cinematographer Gregg Toland to photograph the film, as he utilized the same excellent deep focus photography he used in CITIZEN KANE to make the film's simple small town settings (bars, stores, apartments) look beautiful.
The film opens with three GI's returning to the same (fictional) mid western town, Boone City, each clearly representing  an archetype of the kind of Soldiers that were then returning home.  They are Al Stephenson (Fredric March), a successful middle aged banker, Fred Derry(Dana Andrews), who was just a soda jerk before the war, and who is returning to the wife (Virginia Mayo) that he knew for less than a month before he left.  Finally there is Homer Parrish(Harold Russell, who really was handicapped), a young navy veteran who lost his arms in the war and uses prosthetic limbs now.  Each one of them has a big, moving homecoming scene, and it is to Wyler's credit that he finds a way to make each one different and play on different emotions (Homer, for example, is tentative in his arrival, nervous about how his new arms will appear to his family, while Al is far more excited).  There's also an amusing moment where Fred slowly walks towards his parents shabby home as a train rushes by behind him, and we realize that he literally is from the wrong side of the tracks.

Harold Russell, Fredric March, Dana Andrews

Inevitably the three men have trouble adjusting: Al is surprised to discover that his wife Milly (Myrna Loy) and two children Peggy and Rob (Teresa Wright and Micheal Hall) have become so independent without him.  And at his work, he butts heads with his boss (Ray Collins) when he demands that the bank make loans to poor GIs without collateral.  Meanwhile Fred is discovering that his pretty wife Marie barely made contact with his parents while he was gone, and that she expects to lead a high life that he can't possibly afford as he struggles to find work, his training as a bomber giving him no workable skills in the job market. He also finds himself drawn to Al's daughter Peggy, who resolves to break up his unhappy marriage.  And, finally, Homer feels his friends and family see him as some kind of freak because of his arms, so he avoids them, including his fiancee Wilma (Cathy O'Donnell) and he spends most of his time drinking at the bar owned by his uncle Butch (Hoagy Carmicheal).

Each one of these stories is well handled, and the entire cast is wonderful;  one can really sense that they all realized that this was a special and important movie.  It is also a tribute to Sherwood's script that the story of returning GIs also gives its female stars a chance to shine: Myrna Loy, best known today for starring opposite William Powell in the THIN MAN films, (and, being the best known performer in the cast, gets star billing here) is more than just a supportive and loving wife; she also brings a wry humor to the scenes where she has to deal with her husband's drunken behavior, and she gives a wonderful speech to her husband and daughter about the difficulties of a long term marriage ("How many times have you said you were sick and tired of me; that we were all washed up? How many times have we had to fall in love all over again?" ).   Teresa Wright, along with having excellent romantic chemistry with Dana Andrews, brings real intelligence and determination to her role as Peggy; she makes us see that her love for him is not just some silly infatuation, but that it is in the best interest for both of them.  And even Virginia Mayo, in the seemingly thankless role of the golddigging, unfaithful Marie has enough human moments to show that she's as disappointed in her quick decision to marry as her husband is. 
There are many great moments:  I love Al's speech about how his bank needs to do more about helping people, or when Fred walks through a line of decaying planes and flashes back to his days as a bomber.  But it is in the story of Harold Russell's Homer that the film really soars.  Originally, his character was going to suffer from shell shock and be prone to fits,  but when Wyler recalled seeing Russell in a documentary about handicapped soldiers, he hired him to, more or less, play himself in the film.  Although Russell's  acting is, at times,  a bit rough around the edges, it was an inspired choice by Wyler, as Homer becomes the heart and soul of the film.(And Russell would become the only actor to win two Oscars for the same role, one for Best Supporting Actor, and the other a special inspirational award)  The crucial moment for his character comes when Wilma confronts him and asks to know why he's avoiding her; he invites her to his bedroom so she can see for herself how hard it is for him to remove his arms every night and how helpless he is while lying down in bed.  This is a truly striking moment because it is the first (and only) time in the film when we see him without his arms, and, in showing Russell's real handicap and the difficulties it causes him, it becomes one of the few times in a fiction film where the wall between reality and made up story is shattered. It also ranks as one of the most romantic moments in movie history, as the sweet Wilma resolves to love him despite his handicap, saying, "All I know is, I was in love with you when you left and I'm in love with you now. Other things may have changed but that hasn't."

Cathy O'Donnell and Harold Russell

It is reported that Wyler originally intended to cut the film's running time, but when preview audiences responded so well to it, he just released it at its original three hours.   I think it was the right decision, as the film rarely lags, and the extended time reveals the real changes the characters go through, and let's us get to know them, so that we understand their motivations (Although I could have done without some of Al's drunken behavior).  Wyler also finds many moments of humor,  like a crowded dance scene in a night club, or Butch's cynical line about  the next war (" Then none of us have to worry because we'll all be blown to bits the first day. So cheer up, huh!".  )  All in all, this is a big, bold film clearly made with lots of heart and emotion, that, despite the main characters troubles,  looks forward to their future (and the future of America itself) with optimism and hope.  It's truly a classic.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

This becomes a tough call to make; while it is obvious that I adore this film,  another film was released that year that has gone on to become one of the most popular holiday movies ever,(although it was a box office disappointment at the time)  Frank Capra's marvelous IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE.  Also, NOTORIOUS, Alfred Hitchcock's most romantic movie, came out that year,  and it is also excellent.  So I won't argue with the Academy's choice, but a three way tie might have been nice!

THE LOST WEEKEND (1945)

THE LOST WEEKEND (DIR: BILLY WILDER)  (SCR: WILDER & CHARLES BRACKETT, BASED ON THE NOVEL BY CHARLES R. JACKSON)


Giving the best picture Oscar to Billy Wilder's THE LOST WEEKEND was probably one of the more surprising choices made by the Academy, seeing how it was seen as a daring film in 1945.  It was the first Hollywood film to really deal seriously with the problem of alcoholism (or addiction in general).  In its attempt to be as realistic as possible, it went into often nightmarish detail, and its powerful portrait of a man plunging into a suicidal addiction still holds up well today.

Wilder began his brilliant career in his homeland of Poland, where he became a writer and director; in 1933 he fled the Nazis to Paris, and eventually America.  After a crash course in English, he began working in Hollywood as a screenwriter.  He did excellent work in that capacity for directors Ernst Lubisch (1939, NINOTCHKA) and Howard Hawks (1941, BALL OF FIRE) among others.  Desiring more control over the final product of his scripts, (and taking a cue from fellow screen writer turned director Preston Sturges), Wilder made his move into the director's chair with 1942's fun comedy, THE MAJOR AND THE MINOR.  That was a big success, and his career was set.  As a writer and director, Wilder often gave his films a cynical streak, with corruption and/or infidelity often playing a large role (even the romantic comedy SABRINA, often looked at as his most charming film, opens up with the title character trying to commit suicide), and I feel that it is this cynical nature that has kept his films from feeling dated, unlike so many other films made at the same time. 
Wilder first became aware of the semi autobiographical novel THE LOST WEEKEND by Charles R Jackson when he grabbed the book before a train ride and couldn't put it down.  He immediately phoned his writing partner, Charles Brackett, and then got the Paramount Pictures studio to buy the rights for $50,000.  At first, the studio had misgivings about such a dark film, but it eventually became a hit, and the title is still used to this day to describe a wild drunken time (there's even a bar in San Francisco named after the movie!).
Wilder cast Ray Milland in the lead role as Don Birnam, a surprising decision given the Milland was seen at the time as a good looking, lightweight actor (Wilder had worked with him before on THE MAJOR AND THE MINOR), but it was an inspired choice that garnered the actor an Oscar.
Milland's good looks and charm are right for the character, as he uses them to get others to believe his promises to stop drinking time and time again, even while he is lying to them, and possibly himself.  And that charm also shines in an excellent speech he gives about how wonderful alcohol makes him feel ("I'm Michaelangelo, molding the beard of Moses").  To his credit, (and this is probably why he won the Oscar) he shows no vanity here, as he often allows himself to look haggard and torn, and his character becomes more and more unsympathetic as he literally begs borrows and steals to get money for another drink.

Ray Milland

As the movie opens, the camera zooms from a panoramic shot of New York City to the window of a single apartment, where we see a bottle of alcohol has been hidden outside the window.  Inside we see a sober Don, his brother Wick (Philip Terry) and Don's fiancee Helen (Jane Wyman) calmly talking about how Don and Wick are going up to the country for the weekend, and right away we know that Don is lying to the two of them about his drinking.  Sure enough, there will no weekend in the country for Don, as he soon finds himself on a bender that will see him spiral further and further downward, which Wilder shows by having the camera literally plunge into a glass of alcohol as his bender begins.  His descent is  shown in the bleakest manner possible (for 1945 anyway), as he goes from trying to sell his beloved typewriter (he's a frustrated writer) for alcohol money, to trying to steal a woman's purse.  At one point,  when it appears that he can't sink any lower, he begins to hallucinate, and imagines a rat climbing in through a hole in the wall of his brother's apartment and then being killed by a bat, a truly chilling image.  Amazingly, things get even worse when, after a tumble down the stairs,  he winds up at a hellish mental ward, where he hears other alcoholics scream in agony as the go through withdrawal.  Surprisingly, Wilder contrasts the truly nightmarish quality of this scene with the world weary humor of one of the orderlies named Bim(Frank Faylin), who informs Don that the alcoholics ward is "standing room only".  But the contrast works, as Bim's caustic dialogue keeps the scene from being too bleak, while also showing the inevitable disassociation that someone who works in a place like that would have to have.
Truly, Wilder seemed determined not to sugarcoat the horrors of addiction, and this determination, along with his demand that the film be shot mostly in real locations in New York(often with hidden cameras), give the film a powerful realism; as dark as Don's fall is, it is never unbelievable.  Although the film does have a happy ending, in which Don finally pledges to stop drinking and begins work on his novel, it is entirely possible that he is lying to himself yet again, and that more lost weekends await in his future.

Ray Milland and Jane Wyman

If the film has a weak spot, it's in the Jane Wyman character; Wyman does what she can with the role, but she is just too good to be true.  She remains steadfast and loyal to Don no matter how low he goes (his drunken behavior includes flirting with other women, something I'm sure she is aware of even if she doesn't actually see it).  She sticks with him even after his own brother (who has allowed Don to stay at his apartment for free) starts to give up on him.  Still, her character is important to Don's eventual redemption, and a flashback to how they first met provides the film's only really light scenes, which gives the audience some nice relief from the heaviness of the rest of the film.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

Although THE LOST WEEKEND is not my favorite Wilder film, it was groundbreaking for its time, and it holds up very well, so I have no problem with the Academy's choice.  The only other film that year that I think compares is Elia Kazan's marvelous, sentimental A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN, but that wasn't as original as Wilder's film.