The Mount Rushmore of Film Directors

Hitchcock on Mount Rushmore--from
the North By Northwest poster.

If there was a Mount Rushmore of great American directors, who would you put on it? I pondered this question recently and then posed it to three other classic movie bloggers whom I admire. I gave them two criteria: (1) They could only pick four directors...because it's Mount Rushmore; (2) Their decisions had to be based on the directors' American-made films (after all, we're talking about an American monument here). Thus, directors such as Alfred Hitchcock and Fritz Lang could be considered--but not international greats like Federico Fellini, Luis Bunuel, and Akira Kurosawa. (And, yes, when I say "American," I am referring to the   U.S.--not all of North and South America.)

The Master of Suspense.

Personally, I had little trouble in coming up with three of my four choices. I consider Alfred Hitchcock to be the greatest film director...period...based on his storytelling skills, the complexity of his film's themes, and the body of his work. I don't think another director will ever be able to replicate the astounding number of superb films he made between 1940 and 1964--a period that included Rebecca, Notorious, Shadow of a Doubt, Rear Window, Vertigo, North By Northwest, Psycho, and Marnie. My second choice is Billy Wilder, possibly the most versatile of all filmmakers. He made classic film noirs (Double Indemnity), sophisticated comedies (Some Like It Hot), screwball comedies (One, Two, Three), and courtroom dramas (Witness for the Prosecution). His best films integrated drama and comedy so expertly that they created something uniquely Wilder (e.g., The Apartment, Stalag 17). That brings me to my third choice, a director whose films gave rise to a now common adjective "Capraesque," which one online dictionary defined as "of or evocative of the movies of Frank Capra, often promoting the positive social effects of individual acts of courage." Capra's film's restored faith in human nature when America needed it most--during the Great Depression and after World War II. He also helped make stars out of Gary Cooper and James Stewart. That brings me to my final spot and I struggled mightily here. I considered Richard Brooks, Samuel Fuller, Michael Curtiz, Robert Wise, and Otto Preminger. In the end, though, I went with Anthony Mann. A versatile director like Wilder, Mann helped define film noir in the 1940s with tough, dark films like Raw Deal and T-Men. In the 1950s, he reinvigorated the Western genre with five superb films starring James Stewart. Mann's protagonists were cynical men with violent pasts who found redemption, often by becoming part of a forgiving community (The Far Country, Bend of the River). In many ways, Mann's protagonists paved the way for the flawed "heroes" that dominated American cinema in the 1960s and 1970s.

Ernst Lubitsch.

The Lady Eve, Lady Eve's Reel Life: If not Mount Rushmore, these four filmmakers at least deserve to have their faces carved in stone on the hillside under the Hollywood sign. Here’s why: Alfred Hitchcock was a master of the art of what he called “pure cinema”-- visual storytelling (consider the famed crane shot in Notorious that zooms in on the key in Ingrid Bergman’s hand). And no one has surpassed his ability to draw the viewer so completely into a film or, at times, to identify with the villain (Robert Walker retrieving his lighter in Strangers on a Train, Anthony Perkins sinking a car into a swamp in Psycho). Long touted “the master of suspense,” Hitchcock was, more than anything, a cinematic genius (see also Rear Window and Vertigo). The comedies of Ernst Lubitsch literally sparkle (even the screen itself seems luminous). Brimming with charm and sophistication, his films offer a knowing yet sympathetic glimpse into human yearnings and foibles. His best work (the likes of Ninotchka, The Shop Around the Corner and To Be or Not to Be) has rightly been likened to the soufflé, a deceptively lighter than air concoction that is also deliciously rich and deeply satisfying. "Screwball" comedy existed before Preston Sturges started writing and directing his own films, but he took the concept into another realm. Original and decidedly eccentric, his best films neatly weave sly commentary on social values into byzantine plots involving cockeyed characters who rattle off snappy/smart dialogue at a mile a minute. Unique barely describes The Great McGinty, The Lady Eve, Sullivan’s Travels, The Palm Beach Story, Unfaithfully Yours.... Billy Wilder, like Hitchcock, was a top filmmaker from the ‘40s to the ‘60s. But Wilder began his career as a journalist and so, naturally, his films are marked by strong screenwriting and fine-tuned dialogue. His cynical world view made him a natural for noir, and Double Indemnity stands as a pillar of the genre. But Wilder wasn’t one to be pigeon-holed, as his wild, satirical romp Some Like It Hot would prove. Noir, farce, drama or “dramedy,” Wilder had as much range as he had skill.

Frank Capra.

Annmarie Gatti, Classic Movie Hub Blog:  If I could put four American directors on Mount Rushmore, who would they be???  Well, that's a really tough question...and one that will probably have me second guessing myself for quite some time--but, that said, after much "agony" and deliberation, my picks would be Frank Capra, Billy Wilder, Alfred Hitchcock and John Ford. Here's why:  Frank Capra--for creating some of the most beloved 'feel-good' films of all time that champion the common man and the basic goodness of human nature. Billy Wilder -for his use of script to drive the story (vs elaborate cinematography) and his ability to push the boundaries of mainstream entertainment by expanding the range of acceptable subject matter. Alfred Hitchcock--for his belief in the superiority of suspense over surprise, and his cinematic approach to filmmaking that communicates via images and editing to maximize fear and anxiety. And, last but not least, John Ford--for his sweeping visuals and dramatic vistas, master storytelling, and iconic portrayals of heroes and anti-heroes of the American West. 

D.W. Griffith.

Cliff Aliperti, Immortal Ephemera:  My Mount Rushmore of American directors? Difficult. I approached my selections thinking not necessarily of my favorites, but of the four I'd consider most iconic in their representation of America and the American film industry, while being among my favorites. Faces I'd carve in stone and be happy to leave there forever. That has to start with D.W. Griffith. For all of the issues over the content of The Birth of a Nation (1915), at least the movie is strong enough to warrant our talking about it a hundred years later, fighting over the same issues that incensed a hundred years ago. Griffith's early features that follow Birth are reliably accessible, well-told stories that at least perfect technique if not actually innovating it. If there were no Griffith, silent film would have been a much tougher sell for me during my formative movie-watching years, so Griffith gets the first nod just for all that he’s responsible for exposing me to. It gets more difficult from there because I've seen so many more films in the decades that follow, but two directors whose work I think of as intrinsically American are King Vidor, whose stories are so wonderfully visual while being grounded by the American Dream, and Frank Capra, who relied more on situation and dialogue to show the everyman overcoming bigger challenges. If Vidor had only done his war, wheat, and steel trilogy—The Big Parade (1925), Our Daily Bread (1934), and An American Romance (1944)—he'd have done enough, but that doesn't even include his best film, The Crowd (1928). Capra kept telling the same story by the time of Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936), Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939), and Meet John Doe (1941), with his underdogs fighting for their place in so many of his other films as well. If Griffith led me to enjoy more silent films then it was Capra, even earlier in my film watching years with titles like Mr. Smith and It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), who allowed me to accept “old” black and white movies as if they were no different from last week’s release. A similar underdog spirit goes to the fourth face on my Rushmore, William Wellman, who could masterfully handle topics from any genre no matter the size of the movie and always seemed to have a great time doing it. A working-class director in that he reveled in the work, Wellman's characters could be as light as his subject matter was heavy. Out of his Great War experiences, he was dedicated to portraying male camaraderie, but I think he had an even keener insight into female characters, especially during the Depression years.

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)

Who runs Washington? How does one become a congressperson, a senator, or the president? These questions were asked in 1939—and are still being asked today. Americans would like to think that idealists like Jefferson Smith (James Stewart) go to Washington to serve the best interests of those they represent.  Yet, in reality, few idealists ever get to Washington, and if they do get there they are quickly disillusioned by the political process.  Most rational Americans today know that the political process has been corrupted, but I’m not quite so sure that people were so aware of what happened in Washington back in 1939—the year this film, like so many other classics, hit the silver screen.
Nominated for eleven Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Director [Frank Capra], Best Actor [James Stewart], Best Supporting Actor [Harry Carey and Claude Rains], Best Score, Best Sound Recording, Best Film Editing, Best Interior Direction, Best Screenplay, and Best Original Story [winner Lewis R. Foster]), the film was almost put on the shelf after the outbreak of WWII in Europe.  It would seem that some thought the film presented the shining beacon of democracy as a corrupt cesspool operated by political thugs.  And, really, those people were partly right, but there’s more to the story than that.  Sure, director Frank Capra shows the dirt under the political rug, but he also brightly polishes the true meaning of patriotism and republicanism. 

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is the simple story of a common man thrown into a complicated situation.  Jefferson Smith is called upon to represent his state (never identified) as a junior senator when his predecessor, Sam Foley, dies.  Needing to fill the position with someone who will be easy to control, Governor "Happy" Hopper (Guy Kibbee) chooses Mr. Smith because he is regarded as a hero and loved for his work with the Boy Rangers (think Boy Scouts)—plus, he has no political experience whatsoever.  As such, he represents, in the words of the governor, “the perfect man, never in politics in his life, wouldn't know what it was all about in two years, let alone two months. And the important thing it means votes. A hero of 50,000 boys, and a hundred thousand parents.” 
Why is it so important that the governor find a “yes” man?  Because he and every political office holder in the state are beholden to political boss Jim Taylor (Eddie Arnold). Taylor has bought up land surrounding a canyon along Willet Creek and wants his political stooges to push through a bill that will provide government funding for a dam—which would allow him to sell the land he’s bought up for a huge profit. Quite simply, it’s the blue ribbon of political pork. Taylor controls everyone, even Senator Joe Paine (Claude Rains), a man some think might be the next president. Indeed, Senator Paine is admired by many, especially by Mr. Smith, whose father was Paine’s best friend. Ah, the dangers of hero-worship.

Capra is quite crafty in how he juxtaposes the backroom dealings of a corrupt political machine with Mr. Smith’s honest reverence for freedom and democracy.  While Taylor, Hopper and Paine are always working the system in closed rooms (they choose who’s allowed in), Mr. Smith revels in the openness of the monuments of Washington (where everyone is welcome).  Even the Senate chamber (expertly recreated by Lionel Banks) is used to show the many faces of the political process. While Smith sits at his desk, once occupied by Daniel Webster, he can see common, everyday people looking on in the gallery. Yet, in this same chamber, you can see senators working the system and attempting to stymie the wheels of truth and justice.

There is an educational bent to the film as well. Mr. Smith’s secretary, Clarissa Saunders (the top-billed Jean Arthur), is supposed to make sure he shows up for roll call and that he votes how the machine wants.  In the beginning, she thinks he’s a big dope and refers to him as Daniel Boone and Don Quixote.  You see, she is the cynical Washington insider who knows how things work, and when some country bumpkin starts spouting off about the virtues of democracy she thinks he’s beyond naïve. She’s also not pleased that he wants to write a bill to start a national boy’s camp.  And, this is where the educational bent comes in.  Trying to dissuade him from his idea she explains the very long and tedious process of what it takes to get a bill passed.  Just her explanation alone is a civic lesson in itself—and perhaps an eye-opener for many audience members.  You must remember, they didn’t have School House Rock and “I’m Just a Bill” in 1939!
Of course, the fact that he wants to build this camp along Willet Creek also creates another problem for Saunders—as she knows about Taylor and Paine’s porked-up plan.  What to do?  Like many secretaries of the 1930s, Saunders is smarter than the boss and so she holds his hand as he first presents the bill and then gives him a crash course in political trench warfare after Paine and the machine discredit and crucify him.  And, this brings us to the famous 23-hour filibuster, where Mr. Smith refuses to yield the floor by reading from the Constitution and various other documents in the hopes that someone, specifically Paine, will clear his good name. Jimmy Stewart always played his righteous characters with just enough instability that they didn’t seem sanctimonious and/or preachy.  You see the complete destruction of his character in these scenes.  At the beginning of the filibuster he seems hopeful and self-assured—surely he will be able to convince the chamber that he is innocent.  But slowly, his strong voice and straight as a rod back start to falter.  His posture droops, his voice cracks, his clothes wrinkle, his hair musses.  What did democracy look like in 1787? Perhaps like Jefferson Smith when he began his filibuster—confident and composed. What does democracy look like in 1939? Like Mr. Smith at the end of his filibuster—defeated and disheveled.  Ah, have heart, there’s more to the story than that, but you need to watch it for yourself to find out. 

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is a political morality tale about living up to the principles of republicanism—government of the people, by the people, for the people.  Who knew a monument could play a supporting role in a film? Everyone, even Lincoln himself, plays their part well. Eddie Arnold is the epitome of the vile political boss who will stop at nothing (not even running children off the road) to get what he wants. Claude Rains takes the part of cynical politician to a whole new level—you either want to slap or hug him.  Jean Arthur is her usual wise-cracking self, playing a Washington-weary woman just waiting for the right man to come along so she can show her heart of gold.  And, James Stewart does naïve as only he can—desperation and despondency never looked so believable. 
Final assessment: we could use more Jefferson Smiths in America today. Oh, and the film is quite good, too.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)

I know I am supposed to say Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) is a screwball comedy, but I just can’t do it!  Yes, it has many funny moments in it and the main character is a tad screwy, but I can’t put it in the same category as Bringing Up Baby (1938), The Lady Eve (1941), or The Awful Truth (1937). Plus, being a Frank Capra directed film it has a bit of a dark underside to it—and I don’t mean dark humor. I would actually categorize it as a dramedy, as the first half of the film is mostly comedy and the second half mostly drama (with a few choice comical moments pixielated in).  Whatever you label it, Mr. Deeds is a film anchored by understated, good acting and a strong story about the value of honesty and goodness in a corrupt world. 

A standard theme in Capra films, the idea of the simple everyman exposing the falseness of overindulged city slickers, is a crucial element in this film. Gary Cooper plays Longfellow Deeds, a country gentleman from Mandrake Falls, Vermont, who inherits $20 million from an overindulgent uncle from New York City.  Deeds is a poet who loves nature and plays the tuba, and is often mistaken for a country yokel because of his naiveté and plainspoken ways.  He looks like an easy mark to one of his uncle’s shady lawyers, Mr. Cedar (Douglas Dumbrille), but Deeds knows (and says) that working for nothing isn’t natural and so he instantly doesn’t trust Cedar.  Transplanted to New York City, Deeds finds himself surrounded by many people he doesn’t trust—or worse, who think they are better than him because they are cosmopolitan.  His best friends turn out to be his valet, Walter (Raymond Walburn), and his fixer, Corny Cobb (Lionel Stander)—both of which happen to be working class stiffs.

An idealist in every sense, Deeds finds himself instantly attracted to a woman who faints outside his mansion one rainy night. Thinking he has rescued a damsel in distress, Deeds believes he has found his dream woman in stenographer Mary Dawson (Jean Arthur).  What he doesn’t know is Mary isn’t a stenographer, but a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter for The Morning Mail named Babe Bennett.  She labels him the Cinderella Man and opens him up to the ridicule of the entire city.  Eventually Babe falls in love with her “assignment” and starts to regret what she has done, but before she can come clean with Deeds the truth comes out.  At this point the film’s mood totally changes, and I don’t know that I agree with how abrupt the shift is.

If you have seen the film then you remember the gun-wielding, displaced farmer (John Wray), who convinces Deeds he should give away his $20 million to those who need it.  Up until this point there hasn’t been any meaningful reference to the Depression or the downtrodden (except for the fainting Mary). So, when a man bursts into Deed’s mansion and aims a gun at him and goes off on a tirade about feeding doughnuts to horses and having lavish parties, it is completely jarring.  Yes, I know it was a plot device to move the story along to the whole insanity hearing part of the film, but I think some earlier ground-laying of this theme would have been useful.  If I have one nit-pick with the movie it is this…oh, and that hideous Robin Hood feather in her cap hat that Arthur wears in one scene—Samuel Lange, you had a short career for a reason!

Both Cooper and Arthur give understated performances in Mr. Deeds. Cooper (nominated for a Best Actor Oscar) always played the geez, smarter than you think country bumpkin well, and his Deeds is no exception.  His slack-jawed line delivery and easy-going physical mannerisms play well for Deed’s personality.  Some might say that Cooper lacked acting range, but they would also have to admit that he owned his own style and it worked (none better than in his role as Clint Maroon in Saratoga Trunk [1945]). Arthur, for her part, is not, as she is often described, the “quintessential comedic leading lady.” She’s not that funny in this film because this isn’t a screwball comedy!  As a matter of fact, besides a few good one liners and a couple of comical sideway looks, her role mostly consists of her being depressed by her bad behavior or being anxious over the possibility of Deeds being institutionalized.  Am I the only one who notices this?  Still, I always like Arthur—she is just so likable, even when she’s playing a liar.

Overall, Mr. Deed Goes to Town is an enjoyable dramedy.  Nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, this is a typical Frank Capra Depression-Era vehicle. I don’t subscribe to the school of film critics who refer to this period of his work as Capra-corn. Instead, like many others, I believe people went to films like Mr. Deeds because they were inspirational and uplifting.  In the end, that is exactly what this movie turns out to be.