Sister Kenny (1946) - % %

Why are biographic films so terrible? "Sister Kenny" is the heroic tale of an Australian nurse, played by Rosalind Russell, who discovers an unorthodox treatment for polio. Kenny is noble and resolute. Early in her life she considers leaving nursing to marry, but the children command her attention. She is practically made of granite. Her methods meet extreme resistance from doctors, all men, embodied in one figure, Dr. Brack, a mean old buzzard who dismisses her because she doesn't have a medical degree, reserved solely for men.

It's interesting to learn about the evolution in the treatment of polio, but as a film this is terrible. Kenny is clearly an excellent person from the beginning and Russell plays her as a stoic champion. She does attempt to exude humility and passion, but each of these deviations from the stoic quality serve to exaggerate her saintliness. It's a waste of time. There's no drama. Even as she stands up to the medical establishment, it isn't a real argument but rather a bombastic declaration of her greatness against an argument better elucidated an hour earlier in the film. It's repetitive and uninteresting. It is remarkable that the real Elizabeth Kenny faced so much resistance and it does remind me that medicine is not an exact science, but full of tradition and prejudices. The real Sister Kenny had a remarkable life and her story holds interest for history lovers, but the film makes this groundbreaking woman seem wooden.

You Can't Take It With You (1938) - % % % %

This is by far my favorite film by Frank Capra.

I would love to live in the zany Vanderhof household. Headed by a heartfelt, contrarian grandfather, played by Lionel Barrymore, the home is filled with dancing, cheering and firework experimentation. Everyone does whatever they want to have fun. It's delightful.

For some reason the naivety that grounds all Capra films bothers me far less in this film than in his others. I'm usually disgusted by the sappy, non-judgemental and non-analytical approach of Capra's films. Perhaps because this film is based on an already established play, Capra's hand in the storyline is limited.

And yet, watching this film in my 30s and in 2011, I am bothered by several issues in this film that I don't recall when I first viewed it at the age of 20. Why does this cheerful family, in which everyone does what they want, have servants? Rheba, played by Lillian Yarbo, sure seems like a member of the family and she seems pretty happy, but she's still seemingly a cook and maid. It feels odd through modern eyes for this egalitarian family to have a black maid. She is a great dancer, though.


I am also troubled by the simplistic resolution of the father-son conflict. I suppose I shouldn't hope for more dynamic and fulfilling resolution, rather than the pair of looks and smiles we are offered. Everyone forgives the evil, nasty banker who destroyed lives and cruelly proclaimed his superiority over all those unfortunate to be poorer than he. Having decried him in court a week earlier, everyone hugs him now that he's remorseful and playing a harmonica with grandpa. I get that this particular family is very open and forgiving, but it still feels like a bit of a stretch. And I suppose I have found the Capra naivety that I may have over looked in previous viewings. It's still my favorite Capra film, but in my opinion the bar is set pretty low. There are moments of sincere humanitarianism and great screwball comedy in his films, but these are drowned in the sappy, marshmallow gooeyness of the superficial resolutions and impossible Pollyannaism overall.

Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) - % % % %

Most noted for Harry Belafonte's role as a gambling addict, "Odds Against Tomorrow" is the first film noir to feature an African-American in a primary role. It is also a bleak film of failed lives overwhelmed by tension and fear, followed by rage. Produced by Belafonte's production company, the despairingly titled film works to give a context to racial tensions through the pitiable and harrowing lives contained by this heist flic.

The fascinating set of characters, mean and desperate, draw in the audience with their treacherous attempts at easing their struggles.

Robert Ryan costars as Earl Slater, a white ex-con with a chip on his shoulder and a temper to follow. He chafes at his inability to improve his lot or to avoid violence, ricocheting from bar fight to the door of his pretty, married neighbor, whom he degrades, manipulates and forcefully seduces.

As is often the case with films spearheaded by actors, the character development is primary to the script, and the action begins nearly halfway through the film, as Slater finally commits to a burglary scheme. Then he confronts his new partner, Belafonte, who is also desperate to cash in on the job to pay off his thug creditors from the race track. Slater's racism steams through his eyes and words, and the tension between the two is terrifying. There is no high ground. There is no noble character to raise the situation up to unify the two and bring them together. Instead, these troubled men are thrust together and head off to the heist. "It's gonna let us live again."

Best known for directing musicals like West Side Story as well as The Day The Earth Stood Still, director Robert Wise gives New York a harsh, frigid atmosphere. Bare trees and bitter winds penetrate the scenes, causing the actors to brace themselves against the world. Rather than filling this underworld with inky shadows, low angles peer up at the many shades of gray in this morally unhinged arena. Positioning the camera low to the ground, gives the impression of a towering weight about to fall on the characters at any moment. They appear isolated and imbalanced. Out on the streets, buildings loom up in the darkness; the sky is completely out of sight.

For a film about race and social issues, it holds up surprisingly well to this set of contemporary eyes. The score, although occasionally distracting, serves to layer anxiety and 50's jazz strains and intrigue. The conclusion gives the film the feeling of a morality tale, distracting from the potent tension created by these two actors. If the ending had only retained the seething interactions which engage the audience the most, this would have been a far more satisfying film.