(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
Confession time: Hollywood heavyweight Spencer Tracy led a career that, honestly, I never gave much thought to.
Now, this isn’t because the actor’s name, talent, or resume escaped my attention because nothing could be further from the truth. Chiefly, I knew him from his work as the crusading Father Flanagan from 1938’s Boys Town – a picture that seemed to always be playing in television syndication of my youth – and also from his work as Chief Judge Dan Haywood in 1961’s interesting Judgment At Nuremberg. But all too often I’d seen snippets of him in more conventional and mainstream stuff – i.e. 1949’s Adam’s Rib, 1950’s Father Of The Bride, 1951’s Father’s Little Dividend, etc. – and being a hardcore junkie of SciFi and monster movies back in those days pretty much meant that I didn’t spend time watching all of such features when something deliciously darker was available. In fact, I’d made serious attempts to get through a few other dramatic projects he was associated with; but when those didn’t make much impression on me I largely tuned his other works out.
However, I recently was offered an opportunity to watch and review the Spencer Tracy Collection on behalf of the Warner Archive; so I took this as a sign that the time was right to fill that gap in my own little understanding. Knowing that he was such a decorated Thespian throughout his career, I trusted that I was in store for something special. Having completed the task, I will say simply that while I think this assortment is good there was really only one flick that truly struck a bell in me. Though his acting in all is exceptional, there are reasons why a few of the films just fail to meet the bar of being decidedly commendable here; and I’ll try to break them down one-by-one chronologically (by release date) with a word or two to follow in summation.
Confession time: Hollywood heavyweight Spencer Tracy led a career that, honestly, I never gave much thought to.
Now, this isn’t because the actor’s name, talent, or resume escaped my attention because nothing could be further from the truth. Chiefly, I knew him from his work as the crusading Father Flanagan from 1938’s Boys Town – a picture that seemed to always be playing in television syndication of my youth – and also from his work as Chief Judge Dan Haywood in 1961’s interesting Judgment At Nuremberg. But all too often I’d seen snippets of him in more conventional and mainstream stuff – i.e. 1949’s Adam’s Rib, 1950’s Father Of The Bride, 1951’s Father’s Little Dividend, etc. – and being a hardcore junkie of SciFi and monster movies back in those days pretty much meant that I didn’t spend time watching all of such features when something deliciously darker was available. In fact, I’d made serious attempts to get through a few other dramatic projects he was associated with; but when those didn’t make much impression on me I largely tuned his other works out.
However, I recently was offered an opportunity to watch and review the Spencer Tracy Collection on behalf of the Warner Archive; so I took this as a sign that the time was right to fill that gap in my own little understanding. Knowing that he was such a decorated Thespian throughout his career, I trusted that I was in store for something special. Having completed the task, I will say simply that while I think this assortment is good there was really only one flick that truly struck a bell in me. Though his acting in all is exceptional, there are reasons why a few of the films just fail to meet the bar of being decidedly commendable here; and I’ll try to break them down one-by-one chronologically (by release date) with a word or two to follow in summation.
Fury (1936)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a wrongly-accused prisoner barely survives a lynch-mob attack and is presumed dead, he vindictively decides to fake his death and frame the mob for his supposed murder.”
Joe Wilson (played by Tracy) lives his life as a perennial optimist, so much so that he’s often mildly derided by those around him for always seeing the good in people. But on a road trip to finally seal-the-deal with his fiancé Katherine Grant (Sylvia Sidney), he’s pulled over and eventually incarcerated for what amounts to circumstantial evidence tying him to a group of nefarious kidnappers in the national press. Before all of the facts can get sorted out, the residents of Strand, Illinois decide to take justice into their own hands, form a mob, and burn down the jail with Joe in it, effectively lynching an innocent man in the process.
The dirty little secret to all of this is that – by a twist of fate – Wilson survives; and – with the assistance of his two brothers – he sets in motion an even bigger media frenzy by seeing those citizens-turned-vigilantes hauled into court and made to answer for his ‘death.’ Enraged just as much as they were when they believed Joe’s actions had besmirched the reputation of their small town, he even has his brothers convince Katherine to aid in the prosecution. Indeed, she does; but once she inadvertently learns that her suitor is still alive, she goes to him begging for their to be a return to civility. Incensed with a desire for revenge, Wilson refuses to concede until he realizes that he’ll find no peace ever unless he can refuse his own fury (hence the title).
While the acting is quite good throughout the picture – the American debut for revered director Fritz Lang – what keeps Fury from truly soaring higher is that fact that Wilson – once presumed dead – really is only a supporting player in a picture he otherwise serves best from center stage. Without one central connection between the script and the audience, Lang (who also worked on the screenplay) really can’t avoid pounding and pounding and pounding the drum to his message about how quickly a society can turn into chaos when passions run untethered by the logic of civil disobedience. Of course, it’s all handled expertly, but the lack of any real nuance to the events here makes this one feel like the production, too, had its blinders on; and there’s never any real attempt to humanize any of it.
Some reading into the film’s production indicates that the studio played a hand in crafting a closing scene, one that kinda/sorta leads to a rather Hollywoodized (happy) ending to the otherwise perpetually downbeat tale. Tonally, the finale doesn’t quite match what came before, but I’m not entirely certain that there was room for anything else as the script pretty much wrote itself into a gloomy narrative corner. Regardless of this issue, the title was inducted into the U.S.’s National Film Registry in 1995, the organization tasked with preserving pictures that have demonstrated a lasting artistic appeal.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a wrongly-accused prisoner barely survives a lynch-mob attack and is presumed dead, he vindictively decides to fake his death and frame the mob for his supposed murder.”
Joe Wilson (played by Tracy) lives his life as a perennial optimist, so much so that he’s often mildly derided by those around him for always seeing the good in people. But on a road trip to finally seal-the-deal with his fiancé Katherine Grant (Sylvia Sidney), he’s pulled over and eventually incarcerated for what amounts to circumstantial evidence tying him to a group of nefarious kidnappers in the national press. Before all of the facts can get sorted out, the residents of Strand, Illinois decide to take justice into their own hands, form a mob, and burn down the jail with Joe in it, effectively lynching an innocent man in the process.
The dirty little secret to all of this is that – by a twist of fate – Wilson survives; and – with the assistance of his two brothers – he sets in motion an even bigger media frenzy by seeing those citizens-turned-vigilantes hauled into court and made to answer for his ‘death.’ Enraged just as much as they were when they believed Joe’s actions had besmirched the reputation of their small town, he even has his brothers convince Katherine to aid in the prosecution. Indeed, she does; but once she inadvertently learns that her suitor is still alive, she goes to him begging for their to be a return to civility. Incensed with a desire for revenge, Wilson refuses to concede until he realizes that he’ll find no peace ever unless he can refuse his own fury (hence the title).
While the acting is quite good throughout the picture – the American debut for revered director Fritz Lang – what keeps Fury from truly soaring higher is that fact that Wilson – once presumed dead – really is only a supporting player in a picture he otherwise serves best from center stage. Without one central connection between the script and the audience, Lang (who also worked on the screenplay) really can’t avoid pounding and pounding and pounding the drum to his message about how quickly a society can turn into chaos when passions run untethered by the logic of civil disobedience. Of course, it’s all handled expertly, but the lack of any real nuance to the events here makes this one feel like the production, too, had its blinders on; and there’s never any real attempt to humanize any of it.
Some reading into the film’s production indicates that the studio played a hand in crafting a closing scene, one that kinda/sorta leads to a rather Hollywoodized (happy) ending to the otherwise perpetually downbeat tale. Tonally, the finale doesn’t quite match what came before, but I’m not entirely certain that there was room for anything else as the script pretty much wrote itself into a gloomy narrative corner. Regardless of this issue, the title was inducted into the U.S.’s National Film Registry in 1995, the organization tasked with preserving pictures that have demonstrated a lasting artistic appeal.
Libeled Lady (1936)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a socialite sues a big paper for libel, the editor responsible calls in the help of his ignored fiancée and a former employee to frame her and make the false story seem true.”
Managing newspaper editor Warren Haggerty (Tracy) has two big problems on his hands. First, it’s his wedding day, and long-time squeeze Gladys Benton (Jean Harlow) is ‘itching for a hitching’ because she’s grown tired to playing second fiddle to her man’s day job. But – more importantly – the New York Evening Star just opened up itself to a $5M lawsuit alleging libel from a decision Haggerty made too quickly; and now his boss is demanding that a solution that’ll keep the business afloat. At Haggerty’s insistence, they hire former reporter and man-about-town Bill Chandler (William Powell) to actually seduce their accuser – Connie Allenbury (Myrna Loy) – so that the newspaper can catch her in the act committing the crime they’ve already alleged she’s guilty of.
Now, the plot may sound a bit convoluted; and, yes, it is. This is the stuff that Hollywood did so well back in the day – the delightfully romantic screwball Comedy set against the backdrop of big print and even bigger money. Given the fact that the picture basically stars Powell and Loy – two names who’d already established themselves as a box office draw for such fare – Libeled Lady feels like this was one more studio effort to capitalize on screen magic. (FYI: Google.com reports that the two were never romantic in real life but instead shared a platonic friendship for fifty years.) Honestly, having Lady presented as part of a Spencer Tracy Collection is a bit questionable – to say the least – given the fact that he’s in so little of the flick; but the man makes the most of his time when called upon, so let’s just be thankful for small favors.
Regular readers of SciFiHistory.Net might already know that – ahem – yours truly is not fond of screwball Comedies, of which this one definitely qualifies. The upside here is that the true schtick doesn’t take place until about the midpoint, leaving the rest of this relying on the smart repartee between Powell and … well … just about everyone in here. On that point, Lady excels to the point of being entertaining just not all that memorable as the actor has turned in elsewhere. It has chemistry in spades – and some might suggest that the four principle actors were at or near their cinema peak – so even a few cringeworthy moments don’t keep it from firing on all cylinders when needed.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a socialite sues a big paper for libel, the editor responsible calls in the help of his ignored fiancée and a former employee to frame her and make the false story seem true.”
Managing newspaper editor Warren Haggerty (Tracy) has two big problems on his hands. First, it’s his wedding day, and long-time squeeze Gladys Benton (Jean Harlow) is ‘itching for a hitching’ because she’s grown tired to playing second fiddle to her man’s day job. But – more importantly – the New York Evening Star just opened up itself to a $5M lawsuit alleging libel from a decision Haggerty made too quickly; and now his boss is demanding that a solution that’ll keep the business afloat. At Haggerty’s insistence, they hire former reporter and man-about-town Bill Chandler (William Powell) to actually seduce their accuser – Connie Allenbury (Myrna Loy) – so that the newspaper can catch her in the act committing the crime they’ve already alleged she’s guilty of.
Now, the plot may sound a bit convoluted; and, yes, it is. This is the stuff that Hollywood did so well back in the day – the delightfully romantic screwball Comedy set against the backdrop of big print and even bigger money. Given the fact that the picture basically stars Powell and Loy – two names who’d already established themselves as a box office draw for such fare – Libeled Lady feels like this was one more studio effort to capitalize on screen magic. (FYI: Google.com reports that the two were never romantic in real life but instead shared a platonic friendship for fifty years.) Honestly, having Lady presented as part of a Spencer Tracy Collection is a bit questionable – to say the least – given the fact that he’s in so little of the flick; but the man makes the most of his time when called upon, so let’s just be thankful for small favors.
Regular readers of SciFiHistory.Net might already know that – ahem – yours truly is not fond of screwball Comedies, of which this one definitely qualifies. The upside here is that the true schtick doesn’t take place until about the midpoint, leaving the rest of this relying on the smart repartee between Powell and … well … just about everyone in here. On that point, Lady excels to the point of being entertaining just not all that memorable as the actor has turned in elsewhere. It has chemistry in spades – and some might suggest that the four principle actors were at or near their cinema peak – so even a few cringeworthy moments don’t keep it from firing on all cylinders when needed.
Northwest Passage (1940)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Langdon Towne and Hunk Marriner join Major Rogers' Rangers as they wipe out an Indian village. They set out for Fort Wentworth, but when they arrive they find no soldiers and none of the supplies they expected.”
Shortly after being summarily kicked out of Harvard for insubordination in 1759, budding cartoonist Langdon Towne (Robert Young) returns home feeling guilty over having cast a reputation of shame over the family. Still, his rebellious nature continues to get the best of him; and – once he privately slanders a local landowner who has the support of the King of England – Towne finds he has no other option but to ‘take it on the lam’ with fellow malcontent Hunk Marriner (Walter Brennan). Fortunately, it doesn’t take long before Major Robert Rogers (Tracy) rescues the wandering men and gives them a life of purpose: they can serve their community as soldiers in the Rangers on a mission to avenge the death of some colonists at the hands of the Indians and the scheming French in pre-Revolutionary America.
Principally, what one has with a feature production like Northwest Passage is a big budget historical epic – a kinda/sorta war movie – that loosely interprets the events of the Rangers’ campaign against the Abenaki Indians. Given the time, place, and circumstances, directors King Vidor, Jack Conway, and W.S. Van Dyke, the bulk of the story surrounds the Rangers’ efforts to travel both to and from the settlement of St. Francis, leaving little room for much else than some understandably blustery speeches from Tracy’s commander oft times in a Patton-esque delivery. While interesting and presumably factual accurate, the story suffers mostly from the fact that the characters – though limited – get very little character development, a state of affairs that keeps viewers from caring more about their survival than perhaps they should.
I’ve read (online) that Passage was a troubled production, largely owed to the fact that the majority of the screen time is heavily invested in location shooting. Given the logistics of housing and feeding a huge number of background actors to fill out these multiple regimens, it’s been reported that Metro Goldwyn Mayer went over-budget on the spectacle, so much so that they inevitably pulled the plug on a planned sequel (the film’s opening credits suggest what follows is only part of the story). As a result, what remains is still a technical accomplished effort – contemporary audiences need understand this was accomplished well before the advent of CGI, meaning this cast of thousands was literally a cast of thousands – and it looks good despite lacking any real beating heart … well … except for Tracy’s verbal bravado.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Langdon Towne and Hunk Marriner join Major Rogers' Rangers as they wipe out an Indian village. They set out for Fort Wentworth, but when they arrive they find no soldiers and none of the supplies they expected.”
Shortly after being summarily kicked out of Harvard for insubordination in 1759, budding cartoonist Langdon Towne (Robert Young) returns home feeling guilty over having cast a reputation of shame over the family. Still, his rebellious nature continues to get the best of him; and – once he privately slanders a local landowner who has the support of the King of England – Towne finds he has no other option but to ‘take it on the lam’ with fellow malcontent Hunk Marriner (Walter Brennan). Fortunately, it doesn’t take long before Major Robert Rogers (Tracy) rescues the wandering men and gives them a life of purpose: they can serve their community as soldiers in the Rangers on a mission to avenge the death of some colonists at the hands of the Indians and the scheming French in pre-Revolutionary America.
Principally, what one has with a feature production like Northwest Passage is a big budget historical epic – a kinda/sorta war movie – that loosely interprets the events of the Rangers’ campaign against the Abenaki Indians. Given the time, place, and circumstances, directors King Vidor, Jack Conway, and W.S. Van Dyke, the bulk of the story surrounds the Rangers’ efforts to travel both to and from the settlement of St. Francis, leaving little room for much else than some understandably blustery speeches from Tracy’s commander oft times in a Patton-esque delivery. While interesting and presumably factual accurate, the story suffers mostly from the fact that the characters – though limited – get very little character development, a state of affairs that keeps viewers from caring more about their survival than perhaps they should.
I’ve read (online) that Passage was a troubled production, largely owed to the fact that the majority of the screen time is heavily invested in location shooting. Given the logistics of housing and feeding a huge number of background actors to fill out these multiple regimens, it’s been reported that Metro Goldwyn Mayer went over-budget on the spectacle, so much so that they inevitably pulled the plug on a planned sequel (the film’s opening credits suggest what follows is only part of the story). As a result, what remains is still a technical accomplished effort – contemporary audiences need understand this was accomplished well before the advent of CGI, meaning this cast of thousands was literally a cast of thousands – and it looks good despite lacking any real beating heart … well … except for Tracy’s verbal bravado.
Bad Day At Black Rock (1955)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Following World War II, a one-armed stranger arrives in a tiny California desert town but finds the residents hostile and protecting a terrible secret they want to keep hidden, by violent means if necessary.”
Back in my college days (too long ago for me to admit just how far), a college professor and I were putting together an independent study course of films for me to watch, research, and review; and I distinctly remember one of the instructor’s suggestions was director John Sturges’ Bad Day At Black Rock (1955). This being a small college in an equally small Midwestern town well before the advent of streaming, the local video store simply didn’t have a VHS of the flick in supply; so I had to go another direction. I’m thrilled to say that it featured on this collection – so I’ve seen it – and I wish I had the opportunity back in the 80’s to really dig into it. It’s absolutely fabulous.
John J. Macreedy is a wounded World War II veteran who arrives by train to the small, ‘one horse town’ of Black Rock, Arizona for purposes that appear a bit suspect to the locals. Once he begins inquiring about a Japanese fellow (Komoko) who is supposed to live in the area, several of the male residents begin to bully the former soldier, hoping to get him to leave. The problem is that there’s no outbound train until the next morning, and Macreedy remains convinced on completing his personal mission. Before the night is over, he’ll find that he’s accidentally pulled back the curtain, exposing a town secret that threatens the social order; and he’ll need to make a few friends of these enemies who’ll stand with him when things go south.
There’s no way I can be fair to a story like Bad Day in a few paragraphs, so I’ll likely be revisiting this one in my leisure for SciFiHistory.Net. Chiefly, the story feels very much like something that possibly began life as a Western, but – given the fact that the genre was starting to fade at the box office – it probably got creatively reshuffled a bit into a dense, neo-Noir with only Western undertones remaining. Whatever the case may be, Bad Day is the kind of story that can mean many things to many people: it’s as much an examination of curious small-town life (not unlike Peyton Place or even David Lynch’s stellar Twin Peaks but without the Fantastical underpinnings) as it is a dissertation on the lives of men where Beta males have no choice but to turn into Alphas went duty calls. As a deep dive, Bad Day has a helluva lot to say.
It’s difficult to do any kind of cross-comparison between these four films because, tonally, they’re really different from one another. While Fury and Bad Day thematically have similar characters, what each script does with the characters and circumstances are world apart. Libeled Lady is mostly about the laughs, and Northwest Passage is probably best remembered for its visual impact. Of the four, however, Bad Day is a cut above – well above, if you ask me – and nothing else even comes close. The remaining three are a bit too focused on the tropes of their era, making them forgettable except for the slim strong points each retains.
Recommended.
Generally speaking, theme- or actor-based collections can be a mixed bag; and Warner Archive’s Spencer Tracy Collection is no different. The four films (listed and reviewed above) definitely still have something to offer for the discriminating viewer; and yet in some cases the lessons learned are somewhat diminished by the years between their original presentation and the modern era. But Tracy being one of the industry’s most highly regarded talents of the past does give this assortment a better chance at rediscovery, especially for those who haven’t witnessed what the man had to offer. From Comedy to Drama to History to Crime, he rather effortlessly slipped into character, giving each appearance here something different. Here’s hoping his name never completely vanishes from film history.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray set of The Spencer Tracy Collection by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Following World War II, a one-armed stranger arrives in a tiny California desert town but finds the residents hostile and protecting a terrible secret they want to keep hidden, by violent means if necessary.”
Back in my college days (too long ago for me to admit just how far), a college professor and I were putting together an independent study course of films for me to watch, research, and review; and I distinctly remember one of the instructor’s suggestions was director John Sturges’ Bad Day At Black Rock (1955). This being a small college in an equally small Midwestern town well before the advent of streaming, the local video store simply didn’t have a VHS of the flick in supply; so I had to go another direction. I’m thrilled to say that it featured on this collection – so I’ve seen it – and I wish I had the opportunity back in the 80’s to really dig into it. It’s absolutely fabulous.
John J. Macreedy is a wounded World War II veteran who arrives by train to the small, ‘one horse town’ of Black Rock, Arizona for purposes that appear a bit suspect to the locals. Once he begins inquiring about a Japanese fellow (Komoko) who is supposed to live in the area, several of the male residents begin to bully the former soldier, hoping to get him to leave. The problem is that there’s no outbound train until the next morning, and Macreedy remains convinced on completing his personal mission. Before the night is over, he’ll find that he’s accidentally pulled back the curtain, exposing a town secret that threatens the social order; and he’ll need to make a few friends of these enemies who’ll stand with him when things go south.
There’s no way I can be fair to a story like Bad Day in a few paragraphs, so I’ll likely be revisiting this one in my leisure for SciFiHistory.Net. Chiefly, the story feels very much like something that possibly began life as a Western, but – given the fact that the genre was starting to fade at the box office – it probably got creatively reshuffled a bit into a dense, neo-Noir with only Western undertones remaining. Whatever the case may be, Bad Day is the kind of story that can mean many things to many people: it’s as much an examination of curious small-town life (not unlike Peyton Place or even David Lynch’s stellar Twin Peaks but without the Fantastical underpinnings) as it is a dissertation on the lives of men where Beta males have no choice but to turn into Alphas went duty calls. As a deep dive, Bad Day has a helluva lot to say.
It’s difficult to do any kind of cross-comparison between these four films because, tonally, they’re really different from one another. While Fury and Bad Day thematically have similar characters, what each script does with the characters and circumstances are world apart. Libeled Lady is mostly about the laughs, and Northwest Passage is probably best remembered for its visual impact. Of the four, however, Bad Day is a cut above – well above, if you ask me – and nothing else even comes close. The remaining three are a bit too focused on the tropes of their era, making them forgettable except for the slim strong points each retains.
Recommended.
Generally speaking, theme- or actor-based collections can be a mixed bag; and Warner Archive’s Spencer Tracy Collection is no different. The four films (listed and reviewed above) definitely still have something to offer for the discriminating viewer; and yet in some cases the lessons learned are somewhat diminished by the years between their original presentation and the modern era. But Tracy being one of the industry’s most highly regarded talents of the past does give this assortment a better chance at rediscovery, especially for those who haven’t witnessed what the man had to offer. From Comedy to Drama to History to Crime, he rather effortlessly slipped into character, giving each appearance here something different. Here’s hoping his name never completely vanishes from film history.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray set of The Spencer Tracy Collection by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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