Showing posts with label 1929-30. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1929-30. Show all posts

Best Sound, 1929-30

Awards presented November 5, 1930
(Films released from August 1, 1929 through July 31, 1930 were eligible.)

Its time had come, and the Academy knew it, creating a new Oscar category for sound recording. As the technology changed and improved, subcategories would be added for sound mixing and sound editing. Individual sound technicians would be nominated, too, but at first the Academy simply gave the award to the studio sound department, and if it named names, it would be the department head, who may or may not have had anything directly to do with the film designated in the award. Controversy has rarely arisen over this award, but when it did I'll be sure to tell you. 


The nominees were ... 

And the Oscar went to ...
Norma and Douglas Shearer
The Big House. It was a good year for the Shearers: Douglas Shearer was best actress winner Norma's brother. He had followed Norma to Hollywood and found a job at MGM, which was gearing up for sound. Although he had no previous training in working with sound equipment, he picked it up quickly and became one of the film industry's most important innovators. He (or he and his department) was nominated twenty-one times and won seven Oscars, plus another seven of the Academy's scientific or technical awards. 

Best Art Direction, 1929-30

Awards presented November 5, 1930
(Films released from August 1, 1929 through July 31, 1930 were eligible.)

The nominees were ... 

And the Oscar went to ... 
Herman Rosse
King of Jazz
Yes, it looks absurd. But this is the direction in which the movie musical was going, and though the production designers for Busby Berkeley's musicals at Warner Bros. and Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers's at RKO would be more refined and sophisticated about it, Rosse helped create the template. Born in the Netherlands, Rosse studied architecture and design in London and at Stanford University, and worked on set designs for Broadway before coming to Hollywood for King of Jazz. A revue filmed in the odd pastels of two-color Technicolor, King of Jazz takes its title from the epithet journalists had conferred on Paul Whiteman and he had rather presumptuously adopted. He performs George Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue," which he had commissioned and introduced, and the other artists featured in the film include The Rhythm Boys: Al Rinker, Harry Barris, and Bing Crosby. (It was Crosby's first feature.) It's a rather uneven mishmash of a film, and the color is sometimes barely there.   

Best Cinematography, 1929-30

Awards presented November 5, 1930
(Films released from August 1, 1929 through July 31, 1930 were eligible.)

The nominees were ... 

... and the Oscar went to ...  
Joseph T. Rucker, Willard Van Der Veer, With Byrd at the South Pole. The hardships encountered by newsreel cameraman Rucker and documentary shooter Van Der Veer on their journey to the South Pole with Adm. Richard Byrd, and the extraordinary images they brought back, swayed Academy voters. But unlike the other nominees, they were not under the constraints of synchronized sound. Did they show sufficient versatility to warrant the Oscar?   

... when it should have gone to ... 
Arthur Edeson
All Quiet on the Western Front
All Quiet on the Western Front 
All Quiet on the Western Front  
Edeson was a veteran silent film cinematographer, and he kept right on going well into the sound era, finding ingenious ways to hide the microphones when sound equipment was bulky and intrusive. He shot In Old Arizona, one of the first movies to be made on location, in an early widescreen process, and received his first nomination for it. Today, he is probably best known for the film that earned him his third nomination, Casablanca, but he was also responsible for producing the atmosphere of such horror classics as Frankenstein (1931) and The Invisible Man (1933). The stills above demonstrate how he helped All Quiet become a classic, with the well-framed scene of an explosion in combat, the close-up of the frenzied, jingoist teacher exhorting his students to fight for their country, and the haunting double-exposure of ghost soldiers (including the young Lew Ayres) against a backdrop of cemetery crosses.  

Best Writing, 1929-30

Awards presented November 5, 1930
(Films released from August 1, 1929 through July 31, 1930 were eligible.)

The nominees were ... 

... when they should have been ... 
Frances Marion, The Big House. Marion was the first woman to win an Oscar for something other than acting, but she was a born pioneer: During World War I she was one of the first female war correspondents. She became an extraordinarily prolific and well-paid screenwriter in the silent era and moved easily into sound, though her career tapered off in the later thirties. At the time of The Big House, a behind-the-bars prison melodrama that practically invented the genre and its clichés, she was married to George Hill, the film's director. They divorced in 1933.  

... when it should have gone to ... 
George S. Kaufman
Morrie Ryskind 
The Cocoanuts
The Marx Brothers' first feature was an adaptation by Ryskind of their stage play, which had been written by Kaufman, one of the few writers who understood the Marxes' brand of humor and could provide set-ups for their extended riffs. The Cocoanuts contains the famous "viaduct / why a duck?" routine between Groucho and Chico. Kaufman wrote few screenplays himself, one of the notable exceptions being A Night at the Opera (1935), but most of the plays he wrote for the stage were adapted for the movies, and he was sometimes called on to contribute dialogue for them and other films. Ryskind was a frequent collaborator with Kaufman on stage productions, including the Pulitzer Prize-winning musical Of Thee I Sing. He received Oscar nominations for My Man Godfrey (1936) and for the adaptation of Kaufman's play (with Edna Ferber), Stage Door (1937). (Kaufman was so startled by the changes made to his play that he said it should have been called "Screen Door.") In the 1930s, Ryskind had been involved with leftist causes, but when Franklin D. Roosevelt ran for a third term in 1940, he supported the Republican opponent, Wendell Wilkie, and began a move to the right. In 1947 he testified as a "friendly witness" about communist activity in Hollywood before the House Un-American Activities Committee. Ryskind claimed that this made him persona non grata in Hollywood, and he never wrote for film again. He helped William F. Buckley found the National Review, and in 1960 he became a conservative columnist for the Los Angeles Times.   

Best Director, 1929-30

Awards presented November 5, 1930
(Films released from August 1, 1929 through July 31, 1930 were eligible.)

The nominees were ... 

... when they should have been ... 
Douglas Fairbanks, left, presents the Oscar to Lewis Milestone for All Quiet on the Western Front 
In sober truth, I would have preferred to go with Lubitsch here because he is in my pantheon of directors whose films I can always watch with unlimited pleasure: Hitchcock, Hawks, Preston Sturges, and ... oh, well, there may be one or two others. And I admire the dedication with which King Vidor made Hallelujah. Instead of the plodding, reliable Robert Z. Leonard, I threw in Howard Hughes and Hell's Angels on my nominee list because the film shows what a megalomaniac with all the money in the world can do when he decides to produce and direct. But I'll go with the Academy's choice of Lewis Milestone because he made the first Oscar-winning talking picture that still looks today like a real movie, and not just an experiment with sound. Milestone had already won an Oscar, for "comedy direction" of Two Arabian Knights, which was produced by the man who first hired him as a director: Howard Hughes. (In fact, Milestone is said to have directed some of the scenes in Hell's Angels.) He was never really a major director, though he made some good movies, including the first version of The Front Page in 1931, for which he received another nomination, and Of Mice and Men in 1939. He ended his career working as a TV director in the late '50s and early '60s, though he was called on to replace Carol Reed as director of the ill-fated Mutiny on the Bounty remake in 1962. He constantly refereed the battle between Marlon Brando and Richard Harris on that film, while also dealing with Brando's determination to take over as director of it. 

Best Actress, 1929-30

Awards presented November 5, 1930
(Films released from August 1, 1929 through July 31, 1930 were eligible.)

The nominees were ... 

... when they should have been ...
Norma Shearer in The Divorcee. Of all the major female stars of the '30s -- Dietrich, Garbo, Harlow, Crawford, Hepburn, Davis, Colbert, Stanwyck, Loy -- Shearer is the one whose appeal has most faded with time. To many of us, Shearer seems arch, mannered, ordinary in appearance -- her slightly crossed eyes are often noted -- and unconvincing as an actress. None of her films is much revived today, with the exception of The Women (1939), and in that one Joan Crawford, Rosalind Russell, and others almost wipe her off the screen, even though Shearer has the leading role. The conventional wisdom holds that Shearer was a star, the "First Lady of the Screen," as MGM billed her, because she was married to Irving Thalberg, the legendary head of production at the studio. Thalberg had spotted her the young Shearer when she was playing bit parts in movies in the early '20s, and hired her when he was putting together a company of players for Louis B. Mayer's studio (eventually merged into MGM) in 1923. She married him in 1927, and he managed her career until her death in 1936. Many of Shearer's admirers think, however, that Thalberg damaged her career, that her best work was done in silent pictures. In The Divorcée she is still lively and sexy, but Thalberg started casting her in "prestige" films, often adaptations of plays such as Strange Interlude and The Barretts of Wimpole Street that had been vehicles for great stage actresses like Lynn Fontanne and Katharine Cornell. After Thalberg's death, she fell out of favor with Mayer, and she made her last film, Her Cardboard Lover, in 1942, just as she turned forty, a dangerous age for any film actress. 

... when it should have gone to ... 
Nina Mae McKinney (with Daniel L. Haynes) in Hallelujah
Wouldn't it be wonderful if it had happened? Or if this were a country in which it could have happened? Hallelujah is an amazing film for its time, and it remains a landmark: The first all-black talking film, it was shot on location in the deep South, mostly without sound. The voices and sound effects were dubbed in later, a laborious project for the time, because it was mostly an untried process. Its integration of music and story (the latter credited to director King Vidor among others) demonstrated what a sound film could do. And at its heart, as the seductive Chick, is the luminous McKinney. Vidor had spotted her in the chorus line of the Broadway musical Blackbirds of 1928, and signed her for his film. After the success of Hallelujah, MGM signed her to a contract, but found little for her to do. It loaned her out in 1935 to the British producer Alexander Korda for Sanders of the River, in which she appeared as the wife of a Nigerian chief played by Paul Robeson, and McKinney, sensing greater acceptance outside of the United States, decided to move to Europe. Often billed as "The Black Garbo" in Europe, she had a successful career as a cabaret entertainer and made several films. Returning to the States with the outbreak of World War II, she starred in films for black audiences, and made a few mainstream appearances in the usual roles for black women, maids and prostitutes. Of her later films, the best-known is Pinky, about a black woman trying to pass for white; the title role was played by Jeanne Crain. 

Best Actor, 1929-30

Awards presented November 5, 1930
(Films released from August 1, 1929 through July 31, 1930 were eligible.)

The nominees were ... 

... when they should have been ... 
George Arliss in Disraeli. Billed as "Mr. George Arliss," to show proper reverence, this stagey old British character actor had come to the States with an English touring company in 1902 and stayed. With his long horse face he was an unlikely star, but he made a specialty of playing playing historical figures (the Charlton Heston of his day): Alexander Hamilton, Voltaire, the Duke of Wellington, Richelieu, and Disraeli. He made a few silent films, including the first versions of Disraeli and The Green Goddess, in the early 1920s, but concentrated on the stage until the arrival of sound, when the studios came a-courting anyone with a voice that would record well. He helped establish the film career of Bette Davis, who had attracted little attention until Arliss insisted on her for a role in his 1932 film, The Man Who Played God. His wife, Florence, usually acted alongside him in his films, and he decided to retire in 1937 when she began going blind. And here's a chance for me to correct an error in my book: The Arlisses were childless; the screenwriter and director Leslie Arliss is not related to them. 

... when it should have gone to ...  
Maurice Chevalier in The Love Parade 
With the teaming of Chevalier, Jeanette MacDonald, and director Ernst Lubitsch, the film musical comes to life and the embarrassment of the Oscar-winning The Broadway Melody begins to fade. Chevalier was already a legendary entertainer who had begun his career at the Folies Bergère. During World War I he was wounded and taken prisoner, and returned to the music hall stage a decorated hero. His films of the early '30s were box office hits, but he left Hollywood in a huff in 1935 after a dispute with MGM producer Irving Thalberg over screen billing. His later career was dogged with controversy because of charges that he collaborated with the Nazis during the occupation of France in World War II. The charges were unfounded and he made a successful return to American films in the late '50s, particularly in Gigi, and was given an honorary award by the Academy in 1958.  

Best Picture, 1929-30

Awards presented November 5, 1930
(Films released from August 1, 1929 through July 31, 1930 were eligible.)

The nominees were ... 
... when they should have been ...
And the Oscar went to ... 
This time, they got it right. All Quiet on the Western Front is the first best picture Oscar winner to look like an enduring classic and not a struggle to accommodate to the demands of sound filming. Director Lewis Milestone hasn't fully crossed the bridge from silents to talkies; he still allows actors to telegraph their emotions before they speak their lines. Only veteran actor Louis Wolheim gives a fully assured performance, though you can see the glimmerings of what a good screen actor Lew Ayres would become. In the end, however, the stunning action sequences and genuine emotion conveyed by the film more than compensate for any rough spots.