Friday, April 27, 2007

All the King's Men


There have been 3 films of the Robert Penn Warren novel, "All the King's Men."


The story is about the rise and fall of the fictional and fascinating Willie Stark, a character based on the real life Huey Long, Governor of Louisiana.


There was a 1958 version of the story made for television. Most of us missed that.


There was last year's version, starring one of the greatest actors of our time, Sean Penn and a huge all-star cast. Now, I think I will rent that one and take a look.


And, most famously, there was the Robert Rossen version, filmed in 1949. I saw that movie, but, as I was 6 or 7 at the time and most likely half asleep in my chair, I have never remembered much about it.


Mr. Rossen made "The Hustler," a few years later, easily one of the greatest movies of all time with startling performances by Paul Newman, Piper Laurie, George C. Scott and Jackie Gleason. This is an iconic movie, with lines so famous they are quoted by any film buff who has had 2 beers in a row.


In the Rossen version of "All the King's Men," we also have an all-star cast: Broderick Crawford, who won the Oscar that year for Best Actor, John Ireland (nominated for Best Supporting Actor) and his actual wife, Joanne Dru, Mercedes McCambridge, whose major fame was the voice behind the spinning, puking head of Linda Blair in "The Exorcist," but who was magnificent as Luz Benedict in "Giant," and a very young and outrageously handsome, John Derek.


Mr. Ireland, who was born right here in Vancouver, had a career that included 197 credits!


The movie won the Oscar for best Picture, and I am writing about it, because I watched it Friday afternoon and found it fascinating for many reasons.


In some ways, the picture is superficial and obvious. And yet...and yet, the subtleties and shadings of character are quite wonderful to watch. There are no good guys, no bad guys. Everyone is in some way, large or small, compromised and corrupted, and at the same time admirable.


And because it was made in 1949, there are very different approaches to common problems in story telling.


For example, there is a dreadful set piece that lasts less than a minute showing small children leaving a school on a routine fire drill. Some of the children must leave by an outside metal staircase.


The camera shows us the children dashing down the stairs in an orderly and playful fashion. They've done this drill before, they are confident in what they are doing, and it's a clear relief from the monotony of the classroom.


Suddenly, we see a close-up of the structural support that is holding the staircase to the old, brick wall of the school.


The camera cuts back and forth between the children and support. The support breaks a little more loose each time we see it. After 3 of these builds, the support rips away from the wall. We hear some screams and that is the end of the scene.


Today, we would have to see broken limbs, blood spurting, the whole Scorsese/Tarantino craziness.


Yet, told in this old-fashioned, "indirect" way the scene is completely horrifying, completely effective. I hollered our loud, alone in my living room, "Oh No!"


Broderick Crawford had only one other role of equal stature and that was the comedy gangster in "Born Yesterday," with Judy Holliday and William Holden.


He became best known for a schlocky TV series called "Highway Patrol."


But as Willie Stark, he gave us a fully rounded, completely human portrait of a deeply flawed and wildly charismatic personality.

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