Making people laugh in movie theaters used to be the goal of the best filmmakers. It used to be an art form, the responsibility of great screenwriters. Today, that falls to our studio hacks and no-names who think of how many fart jokes we can have the stand-up comedian of the day deliver in 90 minutes. Comedies were made by sophisticated filmmakers who forced audiences to catch up. If there was one filmmaker who could make audiences laugh while still delivering biting satire that didn't bow to the lowest common denominator, it was Preston Sturges.
My favorite Sturges film is The Palm Beach Story, but his best known film is Sullivan's Travels, released by Paramount in 1942. It comes smack dab in the middle of his unparalleled four-year streak of success at the studio, when he established himself as the first successful writer/director Hollywood had ever seen. While many other writer/directors have tended to make films about filmmaking, Sullivan's Travels was the only one Sturges made on the subject. It was his thesis on the purpose of movies and there was no clearer cinematic statement on the purpose of the medium we all love than his.
The film centers on director John L. Sullivan (Joel McCrae), who is itching to make a socially-conscious film by adapting Sinclair Beckstein's Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?. But his studio bosses don't want him to turn away from making light fare like Ants In Your Plants of 1939 because he is good at it – and they make a ton of money. Sullivan is also reminded that he's never had to “know trouble” first hand. This should probably dissuade him, but instead, it emboldens him. He's going to go off and pretend to be a homeless person (much to the chagrin of his incredibly astute butler). Unfortunately, he still has to take a studio-approved entourage with him. Like Ulysses before him, Sullivan experiences some stops and starts, making his journey difficult. Add in the never-named Girl (Veronica Lake) and it looks like he never will “know trouble.”
Instead of learning what living in poverty is like, Sturges has a much more important lesson for Sullivan. Making people laugh is just as necessary as letting them stare right in the face of trouble. A W.C. Fields comedy like The Bank Dick is just as important as John Ford's The Grapes of Wrath.
That seems like a bit of an oxymoron, doesn't it? On one hand, Sturges wants his filmmaker to learn the importance of films without messages while he is actually making a film with a message. Sure, it is a bit hypocritical, but it never feels that way. Sturges fills Sullivan's Travels with slapstick gags, one-liners, word play and even a Mickey Mouse cartoon to get us to laugh as he's getting his message across. Instead of teaching a lesson by telling Sullivan (and us) what he needs to do, he's showing Sullivan how it works.
One aspect of the film that really struck me isn't just how much story is packed into its 90 minutes, but how much of the humor comes from slapstick gags. Struges is heralded as a wonderful writer of witty dialogue, but its like he had some pent-up desire to finally show his appreciation for silent comedy here. Joel McCrea falling into a barrel of water is one of the funniest unsung moments in the film. Veronica Lake's wonderful, giddy under-cranked run at that the very end of the film is pure joy to watch. Sure some of the humor goes on too long – the chase at the beginning is one beat too long and one too many people fall into the pool – but Sturges plays these gags to the hilt and it doesn't seem to delay the film that much.
It's also impossible to appreciate this film without acknowledging the skills of its stars. McCrae's versatility knew no bounds and his ability to go from Alfred Hitchcock to Sturges is astounding. He delivers Sturges' dialogue perfectly. Yes, Sturges' scripts had everything outlined, but McCrae still had to deliver the dialogue as fast as possible and that's no easy trick.
Even though Veronica Lake got Sturges angry by not telling him that she was six months pregnant when cameras started to roll, the two still clearly got on well together. (The same could never be said about her co-stars – McCrae never wanted to work with her again.) Her first scene at that lunch counter with McCrae is a dizzying display of an actress fully understanding the material. She may never have a name, but The Girl is one of the most well-defined female characters in '40s comedies.
Sullivan's Travels is all about what I mentioned earlier – the art of making people laugh. It's an art taken for granted these days, but it must be taken seriously. Sure, that's an oxymoron, too, but the more fine-tuned your skills at writing jokes are, the more satisfying they are to the audience. Sullivan's Travels teaches all of us that we shouldn't turn out backs on what we are good at or devalue our own skills.
On Home Video: Sullivan's Travels got the Criterion Blu-ray treatment last month and it looks marvelous. Plus, it has the really engrossing American Masters episode on Sturges, which is definitely worth checking out.
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