Best Picture Winner: #6
Release Date: April 15, 1933
Rating: Passed
Runtime: 1 hour, 52 minutes
Director: Frank Lloyd
Quick Impressions:
Until my daughter and I started this project, I did not realize there were so many Best Picture winners I knew nothing about. I knew Cavalcade won, but for some reason, I thought it was a star-studded musical. (My mother thought so, too. The day before we watched it, she asked, “Who’s in it again?” I replied, “No one you know.” She said, “But I would know them.” I answered, “I really don’t think so. It’s an all British cast. The only one I know is Una O’Connor.” I’m sure I’ve seen other members of the cast before, but none of them is a big, familiar name. Ordinarily my mother would know everybody in an all-British cast, but not in a film from 1933.)
The only other thing I knew about Cavalcade before watching is that it’s not so highly regarded these days. Oscar buffs slam it consistently. But I’m always suspicious of such verdicts because my very first favorite film as a child, Oliver!, gets the same treatment. All the time, you hear people claim that Oliver! is the worst Oscar winner, and that is a rank lie. At least, I disagree. (The main complaint about Oliver! seems to be bitterness that 2001: A Space Odyssey did not win that year. As a child, of course, I hadn’t seen 2001, but now that I have, you know what? I still like Oliver! better. Sacrilege, I know!)
Besides, in my years of following Oscar races, I’ve noticed that a less distressing way to think is, “I hope one of the good films wins this year.” My favorite nominee almost never wins. As long as the winner is a film of merit, I’m satisfied.
My daughter absolutely loved Cavalcade. (She had to give up taking notes because she was exhausting herself writing down all the dialogue in every movie. Meanwhile, my own notes have become a transcript of our conversation as we watch.) It is her second favorite so far, after Wings. She was extremely fascinated with the relationship dynamics, and persistently curious about one character’s sexual orientation. I think she has a future in gender studies or queer theory.
I thoroughly enjoyed the film, too. I’m horrible at ranking, but I do firmly disagree with those who claim that Cavalcade is no good. If nothing else, it gives us a fascinating look at 1899-1930s Britain from the vantage point of 1933. It’s like watching a living time capsule. We also get sprinklings of genuine emotional intensity, ear-catching songs, and sparkling dialogue.
The Plot:
The story begins in London, on New Year’s Eve night, at the turn of the 20th Century. We meet the well-to-do Marryots, Robert and his wife Jane, coming home from a party. They’re greeted by their servants, the Bridges family. The next morning, both Robert and Bridges leave to fight in the Boer War. As the film progresses, we see both families grow and change. Circumstances pull them apart, then bring them together again. Through their eyes, we get glimpses of the Boer War, the death of Queen Victoria, the sinking of the Titanic, World War I, and some other key historic moments, as the surviving characters continue their journey forward into the 1930s.
The Good:
As the story opens, it has sort of a Downton Abbey feel. We follow the wealthy Marryot family as they come home from a party and walk upstairs into their comfortable life. And then we meet the Bridges family and the other servants in the kitchen. From the right angle, lead actress Diana Wynyard who plays Jane Marryot even looks like Michelle Dockery. (Maybe it’s just hairstyle and costume, but for me, the initial resemblance was pretty strong.)
(My daughter, who doesn’t watch Downton Abbey had no thoughts about the resemblance but objected when I called Marryot the female lead. “Is she the female lead? Why? I don’t think so! What makes her the lead?” I allowed that Cavalcade is an ensemble piece, but I still think Wynyard is the lead actress. The Academy thought so, too. They nominated her for Best Actress in the Leading role for the performance. And I wouldn’t call that category fraud. The story begins and ends with Jane Marryot, and we keep checking in with her all the time. Plus, she gets many conspicuous close-ups. We are always forced to stare at her haunted face, gazing out into some private torment beyond us all.)
Right away, I decided I liked the downstairs crowd much better than the Marryots. The father, Robert (engagingly played by Clive Brook) does get a great line, though. “How very impolite of the 20th century to wake up the children!” Noel Coward wrote the stage play the film is adapted from, and sometimes the movie gives us fantastic dialogue, just oozing wit. I like to think that I have Noel Coward to thank for every line I love, but I can’t be sure that’s true.
Downstairs, the characters are more vibrant, and the dialogue is tremendous. The mother of Mrs. Bridges (the female servant played) is absolutely hilarious. Apparently she’s aptly named Mrs. Snapper (and played by Tempe Pigott). Remember Debbie Downer, the Rachel Dratch character from SNL? Imagine a mash-up of Debbie Downer and Grandpa Simpson written by Charles Dickens! No matter what happens, this woman has something disheartening and alarming to volunteer. She is the height of comedy. And yet, what she is actually saying reveals a life of great tragedy and hardship. I wish the movie as a whole had pulled off this tricky tone, this balance of humor and horror.
In one of my favorite moments in the film, the cook leans over the fire making toast. (She’s literally roasting bread. The technique puzzled my daughter who first thought she was making s’mores.) Unbidden, Mrs. Snapper ominously volunteers, “I once knew a woman whose front hair caught fire when she was making toast, and before you could count ten, the whole room was ablaze. They’d never have been able to recognize her remains if it hadn’t been for her cameo brooch.” No one asked her, mind you. Then moments later, seeing the cook from a different angle, I realized that she is, in fact, at that moment, wearing a cameo brooch.
Tonally, Mrs. Snapper is perfection. She’s absolutely hilarious, but every life experience she recalls has been horrific.
The movie is at its best when attempting the Mrs. Snapper technique—eerily hilarious dialogue, horribly distressing events. If the film achieved this tone more often, it would be a better movie. But even as is, with just flashes of such uncanny wit, Cavalcade has much to offer.
Most of the performances are very good. As I’ve said, I particularly liked Tempe Pigott as Mrs. Snapper. The one cast member whose name I recognized, Una O’Connor (whom I know mainly from Witness for Prosecution) is excellent as Ellen Bridges. I was also impressed with Bonita Granville as the young Fanny. She’s pretty perfect in the role, though all she does is dance around obliviously. The child actors playing the Marryot children (Douglas Scott and Dickie Henderson) are also pretty good, genuinely charming. Herbert Mundin is good as Alf Bridges, too.
I liked Clive Brook as Robert Marryot, particularly as he began aging. (I’ve seen him in some stuff, too, but I didn’t realize that until I watched the movie.) He grew older on screen in a surprisingly convincing, seemingly effortless way. At first my daughter and I were not thrilled with Margaret Lindsay and John Warburton as the adult Edith and Edward, but then their dialogue became so hilarious that they won us over.
By far, my daughter’s favorite character in the film was the adult Joey Marryot played by Frank Lawton. Lawton does make Joey far more engaging and compelling than any of the other male characters. His introduction breathes new life into the movie.
Best Scene:
The discussion on deck between Edward and Edith on their honeymoon is so fantastic that it seems like it belongs in another movie. This scene is so self-contained. Maybe it was lifted directly from the stage play. It feels like a scene in a stage play, and I’d like to thank Noel Coward for the dialogue.
Dramatic irony is heavily at play in this well-written scene. At its end, we get a heavy-handed confirmation of our fears (which is a great way to cap the scene), but the date at the beginning of the scene is really enough to go on.
Honestly, this plays out like a mini-movie all its own, or a segment in a group project like Paris, je t’aime.
I wish the whole movie worked as well as this scene.
Best Action Sequence:
The death of Alf Bridges is so horrific and shocking. I felt genuine, unbridled horror. The moment is set up so well. We just know something bad is going to happen to him—but not that! What happens is so much worse than we expect. His death feels like a metaphor for what keeps happening to all the characters through the entirety of the movie. They brace themselves. They expect hard times ahead. And then something even more horrific than they ever dreamed comes screaming through and absolutely blindsides them with consequences more agonizing than they ever imagined in their worst nightmares. That’s life!
Best Scene Visually:
The surreal montage that covers the entirety of World War I is trippy and eerie, so compelling. My daughter called it “creepy” and compared it to The Twilight Zone. I really liked it, but then it started to drag on longer than I expected. My daughter pointed out that World War I dragged on longer than expected, too.
I also enjoyed a shot of Diana Wynyard’s face as she started in agony through a grating, watching her son go back to the front.
Best Song:
Cavalcade isn’t what I’d call a musical, but it does contain snippets of several musical numbers performed on stage when characters go to the theater or to clubs, pavilions. Some of these musical numbers are borderline intolerable (probably because of poor sound quality), but others are an absolute delight.
“Twentieth Century Blues” is a great song. My daughter loved it and asked if it was a real song. “Well, she’s singing it,” I said, but I knew what she meant. I’ve heard “Twentieth Century Blues” many times before and assumed it was just used in the movie like several other famous songs. But no! Noel Coward wrote “Twentieth Century Blues” for Cavalcade. I never knew that.
My favorite number was a rousing ditty about Mary (and how she loves the military!). I was pretty sure I’d heard that one somewhere, too. Finding out more about it was tricky until I learned it’s called “Military Mary Ann.” It was written in 1909 by Louis A. Hirsch and Edward Madden.
Here’s a sample of the lyrics:
On Sunday, I walk out with a soldier.
On Monday, I’m taken by a tar.
On Tuesday, I’m out with a baby Boy Scout,
On Wednesday, a hussar.
On Thursday, I gang oot wi’ a Scottie,
On Friday, the captain of the crew.
But on Saturday I’m willing if you’ll only take the shilling
to make a man of any one of you.”
That Mary! She sure does love the military! This rousing number took me by surprise and filled me with glee.
The Negatives:
Diana Wynyard’s performance as upper class matriarch Jane Marryot just did not work for me. I understand that Wynyard had an acclaimed stage career and was nominated for Best Actress for this very performance. But I feel like a gulf the size of the Grand Canyon separates her work from my reception of it. She’s playing an upper class British woman whose journey begins in the Victorian era and ends in the year 1933. Here in 2020, I watch and feel like I live on a completely different planet.
Radical disconnects like this (between the actor and me) puzzle me intensely because they don’t happen with everyone. In some cases, of course, familiarity with the actor or the character prevents this feeling of distance. When watching Little Women (1933), for example, I invariably react by thinking, “Yep, there’s Katharine Hepburn playing Jo March.” But in other cases, I’m essentially unfamiliar with the actor and the character, as I was watching Bessie Love in The Broadway Melody. Yet Love’s performance felt immensely accessible, and I was tremendously moved by her work.
Honestly, Wynyard seems like she’s in a different movie from everyone else. She’s living a melodrama. Everyone else is in a comedy tinged with horror.
What I do find interesting, is that Jane Marryot herself feels out of touch with the world around her. Near the end of the film, she remarks repeatedly about her distress that the social order she grew up with is now gone. She even says this directly, very pointedly to her former maid Ellen. So perhaps she is supposed to be behaving like a woman disconnected from everyone. But I don’t think we’re intended to feel the disconnect from her that I feel. After all, in 1933, they nominated her for Best Actress. So I assume her contemporaries found her work emotionally stirring. She does do a good job of becoming more disturbed and distanced as the film progresses. She begins to seem like someone who has seen and survived battle herself.
Wynyard is pretty good in the scene when she visits the Bridges family, minus Alf. But for me, it is always hard to feel empathy for her character even though her circumstances make her so deserving of sympathy . And then her performance becomes so melodramatic. If she were removed from the movie, Cavalcade would not seem like a melodrama at all. At moments, it much more closely resembles a tragic comedy. It’s better as a tragic comedy.
Overall:
Cavalcade gives us a fascinating look at life in London in the early decades of the twentieth century. It incorporates some fabulous songs and offers snatches of witty, wonderful dialogue. It also gives us a look at some of the most horrific tragedies of the early 1900s through the eyes of characters who could be any of us. And it made my daughter and me wish that the United States had a queen (particularly the one we already like over in England). It’s a good film.