Showing posts with label Ernst Lubitsch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ernst Lubitsch. Show all posts

Honorary Awards, 1946

Awards presented March 13, 1947

To Laurence Olivier for his outstanding achievement as actor, director and producer in bringing Henry V to the screen.
To Harold Russell for bringing hope and courage to his fellow veterans through his appearance in The Best Years of Our Lives
To Ernst Lubitsch for his distinguished contributions to the art of the motion picture
To Claude Jarman, Jr., outstanding child actor of 1946

Best Writing, 1942

Awards presented March 4, 1943

The nominees were ... 

(Original Motion Picture Story) 
(Original Motion Picture Story) 
(Original Screenplay)
(Screenplay) 
(Original Motion Picture Story) 

Now generally known by its original British title, 49th Parallel, The Invaders tells of the efforts of five Nazi survivors to make their way across Canada to the then-neutral United States. Directed by Michael Powell, the movie is an undisguised plea for the United States to join in the fight against the Germans -- it was released in the United Kingdom in the fall of 1941, before Pearl Harbor. Pressburger, born in Hungary, began his career as a screenwriter in Germany and Austria, and went to England in 1936. The Invaders is the beginning of his long collaboration with Powell, with whom he formed a production company known as the Archers. Through 1956 they co-wrote, -produced, and -directed a series of opulent and impressive films that included Black Narcissus, The Tales of Hoffman, and The Red Shoes.   

(Original Screenplay) 

The first of the nine films that Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy made together, Woman of the Year is not one of the best, but it was hugely popular at the time. Today the sexist subtext is all too glaring: Because of her devotion to her career, Hepburn is not a "real" woman, as demonstrated in a notorious scene at the end in which she tries to make breakfast and makes a mess instead. Mostly the movie relies on the chemistry between the leads, which continued on and off screen for twenty-five years. Lardner, the son of a famous humorist, began his Hollywood career as a publicist for David O. Selznick, and turned screenwriter in 1937 with uncredited work on Selznick's A Star Is Born and Nothing Sacred. His refusal to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee in the 1950s led to his imprisonment for contempt of Congress and blacklisting in Hollywood. He continued to write under pseudonyms in the '50s, and returned to credited screenwriting in 1965 with The Cincinnati Kid and won a second Oscar for MASH. Michael Kanin was the brother of Garson Kanin, who would later write the best of the Tracy-Hepburn films, Adam's Rib and Pat and Mike. Michael often collaborated with his wife, Fay Kanin, with whom he received a nomination for Teacher's Pet. 

(Screenplay) 

The screenplay, based on a novel by Jan Struther, was much rewritten as events changed, including the attack on Pearl Harbor that propelled the United States into the war. Hilton, the best-known of the screenwriters, had written two novels that had already been made into movies, Lost Horizon and Goodbye, Mr. Chips, and he had contributed dialogue to Alfred Hitchcock's Foreign Correspondent. It's likely that Wimperis, Froeschel, and West, more experienced at screenwriting, did the largest share of the work on the screenplay, but the quartet had an interesting track record: They were also simultaneously nominated for the screenplay of Random Harvest, which was based on one of Hilton's novels. West had also been nominated for the screenplay of Hilton's Lost Horizon.   

... when it should have gone to ... 
(Original Motion Picture Story) 

Melchior Lengyel
Ernst Lubitsch
Amid the news coming out of Europe, Lubitsch gives us a comedy with Jack Benny and Carole Lombard as the stars of a shabby little Polish theatrical company who become involved in a plot to assassinate a Nazi spy. Too soon? That might have been the problem with Lubitsch's great blend of farce and melodrama where the Academy was concerned, since it gave the film only one Oscar nomination: for Werner Heymann's score. (In fact, Heymann had been hired when Miklos Rozsa, the original composer, expressed discomfort with the film's premise. But when Lubitsch objected to the heavy-handedness of Heymann's scoring for some scenes, Rozsa agreed to compose part of the score after all.) Critics and audiences, too, were a little mixed in their reaction to the film, now regarded as one of Lubitsch's greatest. In addition to the problem of satirizing the Nazis in the middle of the war, when they were usually portrayed as monsters and not buffoons, the film was also released two months after Lombard's death in a plane crash. Lengyel, born in Hungary, had come to Hollywood as a screenwriter in 1937 and earned his first Oscar nomination for Ninotchka. As for Lubitsch, who collaborated with Lengyel on the story and Edwin Justus Mayer on the screenplay, as Andrew Sarris puts it, "it was sufficient to say that Hitler had bad manners, and no evil was then inconceivable."
Carole Lombard and Jack Benny in To Be or Not to Be
(Original Screenplay) 

Preston Sturges
It's possible that the Academy ignored Sturges's greatest film because like its protagonist, John L. Sullivan (Joel McCrea), it wanted to honor high-minded message films, of which the year's best picture winner, Mrs. Miniver, was an example. Sullivan, known for such comedies as Ants in Your Plants of 1939, wants to make a message movie out of the novel O Brother, Where Art Thou? written by "Sinclair Beckstein," Sturges's satiric conflation of the names of serious-minded novelists Upton Sinclair, Sinclair Lewis, and John Steinbeck. So he sets out on a road trip and learns, however, that making people laugh is a great and worthy aim. Not everybody got Sturges's joke: The New Yorker called Sullivan's Travels "pretentious" and the Hollywood Reporter accused him of self-contradiction, of making a message movie after all.
Joel McCrea and Jimmy Conlin in Sullivan's Travels
(Screenplay) 

Orson Welles directing The Magnificent Ambersons
Welles had previously adapted Booth Tarkington's novel for the radio, performing it with his Mercury Players. As the published screenplay shows, Welles actually improves on his source, adding psychological depth and making its commentary on the effect of the Industrial Revolution on American society more subtle. Unfortunately, the existing film isn't the one Welles wrote. After he completed filming, he was enlisted in a documentary project in Brazil, part of the wartime propaganda effort to keep Latin American countries on our side. While he was out of the country, the first cut, slightly over two hours long, was previewed. The audience reaction was devastatingly negative, and after a second preview, slightly more favorable but still not wholly positive, RKO head George Schaefer put editor Robert Wise in charge of cutting and reshooting scenes. Wise assembled the film into its current eighty-eight-minute length. Meanwhile, Schaefer was fired, and new studio management decided to give the film a limited, unpromoted release. For those to whom Welles is a hero, the treatment of Ambersons is a story about the abuse of genius by commercial-minded dolts. But others see it as an instance of Welles's own self-destructiveness and ambivalence: His acceptance of the documentary project before seeing his film through to a satisfactory completion suggests a kind of directorial ADD. The remainder of Welles's film career, more than forty years, was spent scrounging for money, acting in movies of wildly varying quality, doing TV commercials, and producing movies of fitful brilliance. As late as 1970 he was still talking about assembling the surviving members of the cast -- Joseph Cotten, Agnes Moorehead, Tim Holt, and Anne Baxter -- and filming a new ending for Ambersons instead of the unsatisfactory "happy ending" the studio tacked onto its revision. He never received another Oscar nomination, but was given an honorary award at the 1970 ceremonies, "for superlative artistry and versatility in the creation of motion pictures."  

Best Director, 1939

Awards presented February 29, 1940

The nominees were ... 

It almost had to go to Fleming, even though much of the movie was directed by George Cukor, Sam Wood, and a number of second-unit directors including William Cameron Menzies. And every foot of the movie was overseen minutely by David O. Selznick. Cukor began it, but for a variety of reasons, including the fact that both Selznick and Cukor realized that he was the wrong man for so huge a project, he was replaced by Fleming, who was a close friend of Clark Gable's. Fleming had begun his career as a cameraman and became a cinematographer under the pioneers Allan Dwan and D.W. Griffith. He turned director in the 1920s, working with Douglas Fairbanks, among others. His best-known pre-GWTW films were Red Dust, Captains Courageous, and Test Pilot, all of which suggested that he was better equipped to handle action sequences than the stage-trained Cukor. But the task proved burdensome for Fleming, too, especially the constant barrage of quibbles and changes from Selznick, and for about a month in mid-filming he was replaced by Wood. Although he also received credit as the director of the second most famous movie of 1939, The Wizard of Oz, that, too, had multiple directors, including Cukor again, as well as Mervyn LeRoy, Norman Taurog, and, for the Kansas sequences, King Vidor. Fleming's post-Oscar career was relatively undistinguished.   

... when it should have gone to ... 

Ernst Lubitsch
Greta Garbo requested Lubitsch, the master of sophisticated comedy, as director of Ninotchka, and she gave one of her greatest performances for him, sometimes clearly parodying her moody, masked image in serious roles. She was insecure about her ability to play comedy, especially the scene in which she becomes drunk on champagne, and insisted on having the set closed to non-essential personnel. Contemporaries recall that she was happy with the film, but years later she told others that Lubitsch was "a vulgar little man" and that she hadn't enjoyed working with him. He had been an actor in Germany before turning director, and also wrote screenplays, which he continued to do occasionally after he came to the United States in 1922.
Garbo laughs in Ninotchka