Friday, May 31, 2019

CIMARRON (1931)

In 1889, the U.S. government opened up vast amounts of Native American lands (in what would become Oklahoma) for white settlement, leading to a land rush; literally, hundreds of people on horses and in covered wagons racing through the land to claim property. With the land rush as a starting point, this film tells the story of newspaper editor Yancey Cravat (Richard Dix) and his wife Sabra (Irene Dunne) over the next forty years. Yancey is tricked out of his first land plot choice by the saucy prostitute Dixie Lee, but he and Sabra settle in the barely-built boom town of Osage. Characters we meet include an outlaw known as The Kid, who tries to hold up Yancey until they recognize each other as old buddies; a thuggish roughneck named Lon who is not above shooting someone in the back; Mr. Hefner, the town's furniture dealer and undertaker; newspaper printer (and constant stutterer) Jesse; and Sol Levy, the sole Jewish man in town, whom Yancey takes under his protective wing. As the years go by, the town gets more built up and more civilized—though not before Yancey's young black servant Isaiah is killed in a bandit raid. While his wife is raising children, Yancey gets the fever to participate in another land rush on the Cherokee Strip, and Sabra is left alone to run the paper by herself, with help from Jesse and Sol. By 1907, Oklahoma has become a state, Yancey decides to run for governor, and their oldest son Cimarron falls in love with an Indian girl, a development that bothers Sabra but not her more tolerant husband. When oil is found on Indian land, Yancey refuses to take part in schemes to cheat them out of their land and publishes an editorial to that effect, straining his relationship with his wife. More years pass, Yancey once again lights out for further far-flung territory, and Sabra thrives, accepting Cimarron's marriage and even winning an election to Congress.

This is often cited as the worst and/or most boring Best Picture winner of all time (for me, that title is shared by BIRDMAN and OLIVER!, and possibly THE LIFE OF EMILE ZOLA though I've never made it all the way through that one). It's true that, for all the action—the land rush scene that starts the film still comes off as rousing—and all the many plot threads, it does seem to move at a slow pace, though its ending feels artificially rushed. Part of the problem is that what held audiences' attention 90 years ago (the New York Times called it "engrossing" and "a stupendous undertaking") often does not today. Still, the narrative is filled with incident and I was never bored. The acting is generally fine, particularly in the supporting parts. Dix is a rather stolid and uninspiring lead, and Dunne doesn't get to shine until late in the film. George E. Stone as Sol, Roscoe Ates as Jesse, and Edna May Oliver as a high-toned older lady are all quite fine and each gets at least one good scene to themselves. William Collier Jr. as the Kid shows promise in his first scene, but doesn't get to stretch much beyond that. The message of tolerance is admirable and seems a little ahead of its time. The print that is in circulation is not in great shape, especially the sound elements. I couldn't recommend this to just anyone, but if you have any affinity for the early sound era, you should catch this. Pictured at top right is a newspaper ad for the film's initial run in New York City; above left are Dunne and Oliver. [TCM]

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