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Sullivan's Travels, 1941
Film director John Sullivan (Joel McCrea) has made a series of frivolous comedies and wants to try his hand at making a serious, moral piece (an adaptation of Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou?). When everyone from his studio head to his butler points out that he doesn't have the real-world experience to understand the point of view of those who are impoverished, Sullivan decides to disguise himself as a down-on-his luck worker and get some first-hand experience. During the course of his travels he meets a young woman (Veronica Lake) who decides to accompany him on his travels.
This was a very charming, funny, and at times powerful film. I'm really surprised it hasn't been more prominently on my radar.
The film demonstrates a really fun sense of humor about the film industry itself, beginning with the very opening sequence of Sullivan's conversation with the studio heads. Even the fake titles of Sullivan's films are hilariously on point: Hey Hey in the Hayloft and Ants in Your Pants of 1939. From there, it lampoons people who want to make "serious" or "real" art about life experiences completely removed from theirs.
The first two-thirds of the film are a lot of fun and slapstick as Sullivan goes out on his first few ventures. There's a bouncy little setpiece where Sullivan hitches a ride with a 13-year old child in a speed racer and attempts to elude the bus of studio employees who have been hired to follow him around and make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble.
Once Lake enters the picture as the world weary young woman, the picture picks up even more pep. Lake and McCrea have good chemistry, and Lake is practically luminous.
Where the film gets really interesting is in the last third. After a series of escapades where Sullivan goes out on the road then retreats to the comfort of his mansion or the well-equipped studio bus, Sullivan finally ends up in a situation where he cannot just fall back on his wealth and reputation.
It was in this 20 or so minutes that the film takes a turn and, for me, became genuinely really interesting. Sullivan experiences first hand the inequities and prejudices of those in poverty and without resources. He endures verbal and physical abuse--including torture--at the hands of the man running the hard labor camp. (The use of prisoners as slave labor historically and presently is something I've always found fascinating in a sort of repulsive way, and it's interesting seeing it presented so starkly).
This part of the film also includes what I considered the most fascinating moment: the prisoners are allowed to attend a movie night at a Black church. The pastor running the church addresses his congregation, telling them that they must not show judgement against the prisoners and must not look at them in a way that would make them feel lesser. It's a moment where class and wealth trump race when it comes to privilege, and it's a jarring moment to see a group of middle or lower class Black people having to show kindness and acceptance to a group of white people. "Remember," the pastor tells them, "we are all equal in the eyes of God." The whole sequence was really interesting and deftly handled by Sturges, who lets the moment be a bit light, a bit serious, and empathetic to all involved. It's also nice seeing Black character played by Black actors, and it's a nice counterbalance to a very caricatured portrayal of a Black cook from earlier in the film.
I had two complaints with this one. Well, one complaint and one think-about. The think-about had to do with the idea of how art intersects with social awareness and social change. The film pushes the message that poor people do not want films made about their lives, and that it's more useful to make art that will entertain people than raise consciousness. I had a mixed reaction to this message. I did really appreciate when one of Sullivan's servants talks about the idea that only the "morbid rich" would want to watch films about poverty. I do think that there is something to the idea of treating poverty as some sort of freak show. But on the other hand, I think that movies can be agents of change, or at the very least important historical/artistic documents in terms of showing certain realities. I think that movies like Gentleman's Agreement are important.
As for the actual complaint, well, I understand that this was mainly meant to be a comedy. But the sequence where Sullivan is convicted and serving time is head and shoulders better than the whole rest of the film. I didn't need it to drag out too long, but I enjoyed it far more than everything else and felt that it could have lasted a bit longer. I just kept thinking the whole movie that Sullivan wasn't really doing what he said he would, because every five minutes he was back in nice clothes or a nice car. I think that is intentional and it's part of the point, but the way that the film quickly resolves and then wraps around to him deciding to stick to comedies felt a bit off. He's just personally experienced torture and injustice, and he decides that his next course of action is to make more comedies.
I would also say that Lake's character is . . . kind of pointless. She's really strong in her first interaction with Sullivan in the diner, but after that she's just reactionary eye candy. I know that the film lampshaded this a bit--"with a bit of sex!"--but it does mainly feel like Lake was in the movie to fall in the pool and for a long, risque shot of her in a shower. She's capable of witty, comic timing, and I felt that she was a bit underused. (But, again, her character isn't really necessary to the plot.
A fun little film. (With a little sex in it!).
Sullivan's Travels, 1941
Film director John Sullivan (Joel McCrea) has made a series of frivolous comedies and wants to try his hand at making a serious, moral piece (an adaptation of Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou?). When everyone from his studio head to his butler points out that he doesn't have the real-world experience to understand the point of view of those who are impoverished, Sullivan decides to disguise himself as a down-on-his luck worker and get some first-hand experience. During the course of his travels he meets a young woman (Veronica Lake) who decides to accompany him on his travels.
This was a very charming, funny, and at times powerful film. I'm really surprised it hasn't been more prominently on my radar.
The film demonstrates a really fun sense of humor about the film industry itself, beginning with the very opening sequence of Sullivan's conversation with the studio heads. Even the fake titles of Sullivan's films are hilariously on point: Hey Hey in the Hayloft and Ants in Your Pants of 1939. From there, it lampoons people who want to make "serious" or "real" art about life experiences completely removed from theirs.
The first two-thirds of the film are a lot of fun and slapstick as Sullivan goes out on his first few ventures. There's a bouncy little setpiece where Sullivan hitches a ride with a 13-year old child in a speed racer and attempts to elude the bus of studio employees who have been hired to follow him around and make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble.
Once Lake enters the picture as the world weary young woman, the picture picks up even more pep. Lake and McCrea have good chemistry, and Lake is practically luminous.
Where the film gets really interesting is in the last third. After a series of escapades where Sullivan goes out on the road then retreats to the comfort of his mansion or the well-equipped studio bus, Sullivan finally ends up in a situation where he cannot just fall back on his wealth and reputation.
It was in this 20 or so minutes that the film takes a turn and, for me, became genuinely really interesting. Sullivan experiences first hand the inequities and prejudices of those in poverty and without resources. He endures verbal and physical abuse--including torture--at the hands of the man running the hard labor camp. (The use of prisoners as slave labor historically and presently is something I've always found fascinating in a sort of repulsive way, and it's interesting seeing it presented so starkly).
This part of the film also includes what I considered the most fascinating moment: the prisoners are allowed to attend a movie night at a Black church. The pastor running the church addresses his congregation, telling them that they must not show judgement against the prisoners and must not look at them in a way that would make them feel lesser. It's a moment where class and wealth trump race when it comes to privilege, and it's a jarring moment to see a group of middle or lower class Black people having to show kindness and acceptance to a group of white people. "Remember," the pastor tells them, "we are all equal in the eyes of God." The whole sequence was really interesting and deftly handled by Sturges, who lets the moment be a bit light, a bit serious, and empathetic to all involved. It's also nice seeing Black character played by Black actors, and it's a nice counterbalance to a very caricatured portrayal of a Black cook from earlier in the film.
I had two complaints with this one. Well, one complaint and one think-about. The think-about had to do with the idea of how art intersects with social awareness and social change. The film pushes the message that poor people do not want films made about their lives, and that it's more useful to make art that will entertain people than raise consciousness. I had a mixed reaction to this message. I did really appreciate when one of Sullivan's servants talks about the idea that only the "morbid rich" would want to watch films about poverty. I do think that there is something to the idea of treating poverty as some sort of freak show. But on the other hand, I think that movies can be agents of change, or at the very least important historical/artistic documents in terms of showing certain realities. I think that movies like Gentleman's Agreement are important.
As for the actual complaint, well, I understand that this was mainly meant to be a comedy. But the sequence where Sullivan is convicted and serving time is head and shoulders better than the whole rest of the film. I didn't need it to drag out too long, but I enjoyed it far more than everything else and felt that it could have lasted a bit longer. I just kept thinking the whole movie that Sullivan wasn't really doing what he said he would, because every five minutes he was back in nice clothes or a nice car. I think that is intentional and it's part of the point, but the way that the film quickly resolves and then wraps around to him deciding to stick to comedies felt a bit off. He's just personally experienced torture and injustice, and he decides that his next course of action is to make more comedies.
I would also say that Lake's character is . . . kind of pointless. She's really strong in her first interaction with Sullivan in the diner, but after that she's just reactionary eye candy. I know that the film lampshaded this a bit--"with a bit of sex!"--but it does mainly feel like Lake was in the movie to fall in the pool and for a long, risque shot of her in a shower. She's capable of witty, comic timing, and I felt that she was a bit underused. (But, again, her character isn't really necessary to the plot.
A fun little film. (With a little sex in it!).