Thursday, January 12, 2023

Come to the Stable (1949)

Come to the Stable (Dir: Henry Koster, 1949).


It’s a case of ‘And Then There Were Nuns’ as a superfluity
 of sisters descend upon the small town of Bethlehem, New England in this lightly comic drama from 20th Century Fox. 

Hailing from France, the nuns, lead by Sister Margaret (Loretta Young) and Sister Scholastica  (Celeste Holm) arrive in the USA intent on building a children’s hospital. But without the land or the cash it proves an uphill battle. Through dogged determination, luck and perhaps a little divine intervention, they slowly begin to realise their dream… 


An appealing cast heads Come to the Stable with Young and Holm registering strong performances in the leads. Stand outs in support are the wonderful Elsa Lanchester as the kooky artist who provides shelter for the sisters and Dooley Wilson, always a treat, here as a sort of porter cum oddjobs man.  


Faith movies were something of a specialty of director Henry Koster, with The Bishop's Wife (H. Koster, 1947), The Robe (H. Koster, 1953), The Story of Ruth (H. Koster, 1960) and The Singing Nun (H. Koster, 1966) among his more notable features films. While Come to the Stable doesn't hit the heavenly highs of Christmas classic The Bishop's Wife, it is more entertaining than the reverential, yet slightly dull spectacle of The Robe. Happily, the schmaltz is largely kept at bay in what is a potentially stickily sweet subject. That is until the climax, when a detractor to the sisters’ plan is struck with a sudden attack of piety! 

Astonishingly, Come to the Stable was nominated for 7 Academy Awards. Whilst it didn’t find itself on the winner’s podium, it is still a remarkable achievement. There is a good deal of whimsy to wallow through but, if I’m honest with you, it was a far more entertaining movie than I expected. A highly contrived confection for which a strong constitution is needed for the finale. Still, if nuns are your thing you will love it! 




Wednesday, January 11, 2023

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (Dir: David Hand, 1937).



As the current Disney regime continues to remake and rehash past glories, it is easy to forget that the studio was built on originality and innovation. This fully animated, fantasy musical was the first of it’s kind and was, on release, the most ambitious movie yet produced in Hollywood.

With its roots in the Brothers Grimm's Germanic folktale; Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs tells the well known story of the young princess (voiced with charming naivety by young soprano Adriana Caselotti) whose beauty so enrages her wicked stepmother she sentences her to death by huntsman. Unable to do the deed the huntsman substitutes the heart of a pig for that of Snow White's. But the Queen soon learns of Miss White's existence in the protection of seven little men in a forest dwelling. Angered, she transforms herself into an old hag and hotfoots it to the Dwarfs' dwelling with a poisoned apple. SPOILER ALERT: one bite of the forbidden fruit sends Snow White into a 'sleeping death'. Fashioning a glass coffin, the diminutive dudes lay Snow White to rest in a forest glade where she lay awaiting her prince to come, someday. 

Derogatorily nicknamed ‘Disney’s Folly’ by the press and expected to bomb so hard as to ruin its creator, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs did the exact opposite in spectacular fashion. Not only did it emerge as the biggest box office success of 1938, it would become one the most successful feature films of all time; not to mention one the most critically acclaimed. 85 years later it has lost none of its appeal, is loved by millions worldwide and has entered the public consciousness in a way few other movies have. If all this sounds somewhat sycophantic, I make no apologies; Snow While and the Seven Dwarfs really is that good. 

Contrary to his detractors, who speculated a 90 minute cartoon would hurt audiences eyes, Walt Disney and his team of animators instead crafted a motion picture of which each individual frame is a work of art. Expressionistic use of light and shadow displays the influence of European cinema evident in Walt's early work, whilst the animation carries a delicate grace that would be never really be replicated outside the early Disney features. 

In Snow White, The Prince and The Queen the Disney animators achieved a realism of the human form never before seen in a cartoon; an achievement even more amazing when one considers Mickey Mouse's rubber-hose limb debut in Steamboat Willie (Walt Disney & Ub Iwerks, 1928) was less than a decade earlier! It is pretty safe to suggest that no other artform ever advanced with the rapidity of animation in the 1930s.

Providing some much needed levity in the surprisingly macabre tale are the Dwarfs: Doc, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Bashful, Sneezy and Dopey. Bringing to life seven similar characters, each imbued with distinct personalities, was an impressive feat in it itself and expands upon Disney's similar achievement in the short subject Three Little Pigs (Burt Gillett, 1933).

Accompanying the animated antics is an equally groundbreaking musical score. Frank Churchill and Larry Morey's score was notably the first example of an integrated musical - one in which the songs help further the plot - a full decade and a half before Rodgers and Hammerstein pioneered the 'book musical' with their 1943 opus Oklahoma!  Songs, such as I'm Wishing, Whistle While You Work, Heigh-Ho and Someday My Prince Will Come would become instant standards and are still among the most recognisable tunes in the vast Disney music catalogue. 

The word masterpiece is overused, yet few words are better suited to describe Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It is a genuinely original and innovative piece of filmmaking, the like of which will probably never be seen again. In terms of entertainment and innovation, it would’ve been fair to assume that the Disney Studio would never manage to top Snow White..., yet arguably they did just that three years later with their next feature Pinocchio (Ben Sharpsteen & Hamilton Luske, 1940).