The Blood of a Poet (1930)
The first part of Jean Cocteau’s Orphic trilogy is a surrealist fever dream.
An artist paints a mouth which starts talking, then transfers to his hand, then to a nearby statue.
This statue convinces the artist to pass through a mirror to a bizarre world inhabited by opium smokers and hermaphrodites. Disturbed, he attempts suicide, but survives.
A snowball fight turns dangerous when the snow transforms into marble.
A card game ends in an unexpected transformation.
Content to shock his audience and unwilling to learn the rules of a new medium, famed surrealist Salvador Dalí only made a few films, however Cocteau respected the medium and wanted to merge its powers with poetry.
I don’t claim to understand everything in the film, but I don’t understand everything in The Waste Land either; I don’t have to know what’s going on to recognize it’s beautiful.
M (1931)
When the police manhunt for child murderer Hans Bieckert (Peter Lorre), interrupts the activity of Berlin’s criminal underworld, those affected launch their own search for the killer.
After a blind beggar recognizes him whistling “In the Hall of the Mountain King,” an underling brands Bieckert’s back with a chalk M (for murderer) to better identify him in the crowded Berlin streets. When the criminals capture him, they take him to an abandoned building where they intend to execute him.
Bieckert claims his urges force him to kill and says the group is incapable of judging him because they don’t understand what it’s like to be him.
The police arrive in time to prevent his murder and arrest him. At his trial, one of the mothers of his victims reminds the court no punishment will bring back her child, imploring parents to protect their children.
Slightly odd-looking, but not hideous, Peter Lorre was born to play sympathetic monster Bieckert, and the role made him a star.
Tyranical director Fritz Lang helped establish the German expressionist school with Metropolis (1927), and his influence is still seen in films by directors like Tim Burton. He fled Germany after the rise of Nazism because of his Jewish heritage, and while his American films were very good, they never matched the genius of his earlier work.
This tough film manages to do something remarkable, make us sympathize, ever so slightly, with a child murderer. We’re horrified by Bieckert, but find ourselves identifying with his inability to control his desires.
Freaks (1932)
Trapeze artist Cleopatra pretends to love sideshow midget Hans to gain access to his large inheritance. At their wedding reception, she gives Hans poisoned wine, while the other freaks initiate her into their group in the film’s most famous scene.
When a terrified Cleopatra admits her scheme, the vengeful freaks melt her flesh to look like duck feet, then tar and feather her.
Tod Browning cast actual sideshow performers in the film including Harry and Daisy Earles, Daisy and Violet Hilton, Schlitzie, Josephine Joseph, Johnny Eck, Frances O’Connor, Lady Olga, Koo Koo, Prince Randian, Elizabeth Green, and Angelo Rossitto.
Despite MGM’s attempt to mitigate the heinous atrocities committed by the freaks with a forced happy ending, contemporary criticism was unkind. The Kansas City Star said “it took a weak mind to produce it and takes a strong stomach to look at it.” The New York Herald Tribune said it was “an unhealthy and generally disagreeable work” which made “freaks more unpleasant than they would be ordinarily.”
Despite the success of his previous film, Dracula (1931), Browning’s carer never recovered.
Today, the film, which simultaneously humanizes and vilifies the titular freaks, is seen as a classic horror film and many of its situations and characters were borrowed by the recent television program American Horror Story: Freak Show.
Sons of the Desert (1933)
Stan and Oliver pledge an oath to attend the annual convention of their fraternal lodge, Sons of the Desert (which inspired the name of the Laurel and Hardy fan club). Unfortunately, Oliver forgot he had already promised his wife he would go on a trip with her the same weekend.
In order to go to the convention, Oliver claims a doctor prescribed a trip to Honolulu, knowing his wife won’t go because of seasickness.
When they return home, Stan and Oliver learn the ship they were allegedly on was struck by a typhoon. To maintain their ruse, they hide in the attic, but their wives discover the truth when they see them in a newsreel about the convention.
Stan confesses and is rewarded for his honesty, while Oliver clings to his lie in spite of mounting evidence.
This film is a perfect example of the fantastic chemistry between the two men. Laurel and Hardy belong to an almost extinct lineage of comedic duos pairing a large, bumbling man with a skinny straight man.
Imitation of Life (1934)
Widow Bea Pullman (Claudette Colbert) starts a wildly successful business selling pancake mix with her black housekeeper, Delilah Johnson.
Ashamed of being black in a segregated society, Delilah’s daughter, Peola, runs away, intending to pass as white with the help of her mixed racial ancestry. Delilah dies soon after she leaves and a heartbroken Peola returns just in time for her funeral.
Thirty years before the March on Washington, this miracle movie about racial discrimination features two independent women dealing with their own problems, and a fascinatingly bizarre subplot involving the sexual awakening of Bea’s daughter. When it was remade in 1959 starring Lana Tuner, a black girl passing as white was still culturally relevant, proving how unbelievably prescient this film was.
Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)
The captain of the HMS Bounty William Bligh (Charles Laughton) is a sadistic man. His more compassionate lieutenant, Fletcher Christian (Clark Gable), resents Bligh’s mistreatment of the crew, while midshipman Roger Byam (Franchot Tone) is torn between loyalty to both men.
When Bligh’s cruelty results in the death of the ship’s beloved surgeon, the crew mutinies and new captain Christian sets Bligh and his followers adrift in the Pacific Ocean on a small boat.
The mutineers enjoy an idyllic time in Tahiti until a British ship arrives. Christian flees to Pitcarin Island and burns the Bounty, but Byam enthusiastically greets the ship as an opportunity to return home. Unfortunately, it’s captained by a vengeful Bligh who miraculously survived his ordeal. He arrests Byam and takes him to England where he’s court-martialed, but his testimony of Bligh’s behavior earns him a pardon.
All three lead actors were deservingly nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor, but sadly, none of them came home with the coveted statue.
While combining an alluring setting, a perfectly cast Gable, one of the greatest film villains, and a dramatic court room scene, this perfect adventure story hints at the unbelievable and fascinating true story of Christian’s descendants on Pitcairn Island.
Modern Times (1936)
The Tramp gets a job at an assembly plant and, overwhelmed by the modern, machine-dominated world, suffers a nervous breakdown. When released from the hospital, he’s mistaken for a communist and arrested.
In prison, he accidentally uses cocaine, inadvertently escapes, voluntarily returns, thwarts a jailbreak, and leaves as a hero.
Finally free, he falls in love with a girl (Paulette Godard, who would become Chaplin’s third wife), and, after a series of setbacks, the couple find work at a cafe. Ill-suited for the job, the Tramp is quickly fired, but not before performing an amazing impromptu song and dance to entertain the customers.
So many people saw their own struggles reflected in Chaplin’s Tramp, he came to symbolize the uncertainty of modernity during the Great Depression.
Unlike his contemporaries, Chaplin was not afraid to make political points in his films and, in an ironic twist, would later be labelled a communist and exiled from the United States.
Captains Courageous (1937)
Frank Cheyenne (Melvyn Douglas) takes his spoiled son, Harvey, on a trip to Europe after he’s suspended from school. As they cross the Atlantic, Harvey falls off the boat and is rescued by Portuguese-American fisherman Manuel (Spencer Tracy). The captain of Manuel’s fishing schooner, Disko Troop (Lionel Barrymore), offers Harvey a job with the crew until they return to port.
Troop’s son, Dan (Mickey Rooney), and Harvey develop a deep friendship, while Manuel becomes a surrogate father for the wayward child who returns home a more mature, world-weary young man.
Based on a Rudyard Kipling novel, this coming of age film is special because of Spencer Tracy’s brilliance, winning the first of his consecutive Oscars.
You Can’t Take It With You (1938)
Alice Sycamore (Jean Arthur) refuses to marry Tony Kirby (James Stewart) until their families have met, so Tony’s father, Anthony P. Kirby (Edward Arnold) comes to dinner. Unfortunately, the eccentric patriarch of the Sycamore clan, Martin Vanderhof (Lionel Barrymore), is the lone holdout in a massive real estate deal negotiated by the elder Mr. Kirby.
Not surprisingly, the dinner goes poorly and, after a wild night, the two families are arrested. During a hearing before the night court judge, Alice rejects Tony’s proposal and runs away.
Grandpa Vanderhof reluctantly sells his house, but when his partner betrays him and the deal falls apart the chastened Kirby makes amends with the folksy Sycamore family, while Tony and Alice renew their plan for marriage.
Jean Arthur epitomized the screwball comedy and often played in films glorifying the common man during her too brief career.
Not often associated with comedy, Lionel Barrymore is delightful as the unconventional grandfather.
Based on a Pulitzer Prize winning play by George Kaufman and Moss Hart, this wickedly funny film was the first of three collaborations between director Frank Capra and James Stewart. While not as poignant as Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) or It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), this sweet, silly movie combines the emotional pull of Capra Corn with the zaniness of the Marx Brothers.
The Wizard of Oz (1939)
A talking lion, a scarecrow, a mechanical man, Munchkins, a wicked witch, flying monkeys, and a magical transdimensional tornado. On paper, this sounds too ridiculous to succeed, but, thanks to incredible performances, inventive use of color, upbeat songs, and a whimsical production design, it does.
Because of its annual showing on television during their formative years, baby boomers have developed a nostalgic love of the film, and Judy Garland has become an icon.
Contemporary children’s films feel schizophrenic, like they’re trying to please two audiences with a smattering of more mature jokes aimed at presumably bored parents. This celebration of childhood imagination steadfastly refuses to pander, which is a large part of its lasting charm.