THE LAST HURRAH: Blu-ray (Columbia, 1958) Twilight Time
Teeming with
oodles of Gaelic charm and imbued with its director’s inimitable humanity, The Last Hurrah (1958) ranks among the
finest – and woefully underrated masterworks – in John Ford’s illustrious
oeuvre. The film’s subject is only superficially political; that is to say,
based on the novel by Edwin O’Connor – itself, a very transparent homage to
Boston’s 4-term mayor, James Michael Curley. Yet, at its crux, The Last Hurrah is far more interested
in telling the tale of a great man’s inevitable decline and defeat; Frank
Skeffington, played with superior intelligence and uncharacteristic warmth by
Spencer Tracy. Frank S. Nugent’s screenplay deconstructs this seemingly
unrepentant political animal, driven by ego perhaps, though arguably, with his
heart always in the right place as a benevolent pater to his loyal constituents
and devout cronies alike. And although
well-oiled, the machinery behind Skeffington’s re-election campaign is hardly
predicated on the time-honored ‘win at
all costs’ graft and ‘spin-doctored’ media manipulations that today seem to
have entirely run off with even the notion of politics as a higher calling to
serve one’s community; instead, supplanted by the greedy understanding it can
become a vocation, expressly exploited to one’s own advantage.
Rich in spirit,
Frank Skeffington is otherwise a relatively poor man; risen through the ranks
on the ether of the oft popularized American dream. In ‘honest’ political terms, this means he is a vessel to his
people. In one of the most understatedly
eloquent moments in the film, Skeffington takes his nephew, Adam Caulfield
(Jeffrey Hunter) on a walking tour of the old neighborhood; a dingy tenement
and tight back alley that was home, not only to Frank, but also Adam’s
father-in-law; now, the embittered and highfaluting, Roger Sugrue (Willis
Bouchey); also, his eminence, the Cardinal Martin Burke (stalwart, Donald
Crisp) who, in more recent years, has distanced himself from Frank and his
political ambitions. Like all great leaders, Frank Skeffington is buffeted by
self-righteous and fame-seeking usurpers, newspaper editor, Amos Force (John
Carradine) and banker, Norman Cass Sr. (Basil Rathbone); each anxious to tear
down Skeffington’s mantle of quality. Both lack integrity, politicizing
Skeffington’s own as an affront to the city’s future prosperity – or rather,
their inability to dictate to it from the sidelines as a puppet regime. For
that, these enemies turn to political virgin, Kevin McCluskey (Charles B.
Fitzsimons); an empty suit, reporting to be the new ‘everyman’, but with his
head decidedly filled full of lies and dead air.
Ford pauses a
moment here, just enough to pin his audience on their nostalgia for another
time and a way of life that, like all having since passed before it, seems more
richly satisfying and sweetly familiar. Thematically, Ford is drawing on a
bottomless wellspring for inspiration. The
Last Hurrah is a picture of such affecting moments, loosely strung together
to buoy the ‘re-election’ narrative - the backstory, not its primary focus. And
Ford, a master storyteller, stealthily peels away the various layers of
double-talk and hyperbole to slowly reveal the winning side. Alas, the winning
side is not the one that wins the election; rather, he who graciously admits his
time has passed, seemingly without dismay or a bitter heart. Herein, Spencer
Tracy illustrates the gravity of a man’s life’s work; the tenacity required to
navigate through these proverbially shark-infested waters, manage daily duties
with a firm hand and clear-eyed view from on high, never talking down to those
responsible for securing his office, but thoroughly unwilling to surrender even
an inch to the backroom backstabbers who would deny him his place in the sun.
Make no mistake; Frank Skeffington is a political animal, though undeniably the
lesser of two evils facing voters at the polls.
In preparing his
movie, John Ford was challenged by an injunction from James Michael Curley, not
on the grounds the movie might demonize his reputation, but rather, because
Curley had sincerely hoped some film company would take an interest in doing a
‘legitimate’ bio-pic based on his real experiences in the political arena. The
suit came to not; settled out of court, reportedly for a meager $42,000. And Ford, conscious of the fact politics and
cinema rarely made for phenomenal box office, worked diligently to ensure The Last Hurrah remained more a character study than an exposé, in the process, managing to bring
his production in $200,000 under its initial $2.5 million budget. Curiously, The Last Hurrah does not seem to suffer
from Ford’s penny-pinching. If anything, it has the look of a stately, if
atypical, Columbia movie from the period, its greatest asset, a superb cast;
most of them old-time alumni, appreciative to work with the old master one more
time. Tracy’s performance is undeniably the standout. But he is flanked on all
sides by some of the most respected names in the industry; the crème de la
crème from Hollywood’s golden era, looking older and, perhaps, slightly frayed
around the edges, yet nevertheless capable of commanding the screen.
In retrospect,
it is one of Hollywood’s supreme ironies Spencer Tracy did not make the grade
for a Best Actor Academy Award – not even a nomination! Historically, AMPAS has
had a dodgy track record in honoring noteworthy performances. While it may be
argued the market then was saturated with such outstanding contenders, herein,
the snub seems particularly unfair; Tracy marginally moving beyond his
iconographic star presence, permeating this characterization with sentiment and
sincerity; also, a hint of playful petty larceny. His Frank Skeffington is
neither the perfect politico nor entirely altruistic in his motivations. Four
terms in the coveted hot seat, how could he have remained thus? But Ford’s
direction, Nugent’s screenplay, and, Tracy’s performance all conspire to paint
a portrait of a man unbowed, either by the weight of his office or by the
necessary machinations forcedly observed and frequently equalized against the
principles of his finer nature. Late in
the movie’s second act, Skeffington explains the art of the compromise to his
nephew’s wife, Maeve Sugrue Caulfield (Dianne Foster) as knowing ‘what the people want’ but also ‘what you can settle for’; perhaps, the
most succinct, yet factual definition yet made to define politics: the sideshow
that thinks it is the whole circus.
Caught in the
crossfire of Skeffington’s reelection bid is nephew, Adam Caulfield, torn
between familial loyalties, particularly as Rodger is one of Skeffington’s most
vehement adversaries, and, the mayor’s blindly devoted ‘everyman’, Ditto Boland
(Edward Brophy) – arguably, the novice of the piece destined to be stripped of
his wide-eyed optimism. Skeffington, a
widower, who daily places a single fresh rose at the foot of his late wife’s
portrait, prominently hanged in the front hall of the mayor’s mansion, is
saddled with a devil-may-care for a son, Frank Jr. (Arthur Walsh); oblivious to
practically everything except a good time and far more interested in preening
glamor gals and golf than his father’s embattled race for a fifth term. Without
belaboring the point, Ford casts a jaundice view on children born to privilege;
their thoroughly misguided selfishness and inability to grasp at any reality
without parental codependence – especially monetary support.
After an
ebullient main title, featuring a torch-lit processional in support of Frank
Skeffington (Spencer Tracy), our story begins in an undisclosed ‘New England’
city. Skeffington, a devout Catholic and a widower, who rose to prominence from
the Irish ghetto, announces his plans to run for a fifth term as the city’s
mayor. Until now, Skeffington’s most
valuable asset has been his own political savvy; figuring out ways to exploit
the machinery of his ward heelers to do his bidding while maintaining an
ever-loyal Irish Catholic constituency.
While rumors of graft have swirled around his administration for years,
Skeffington’s reputation remains Teflon-coated, despite some heady opposition
from Protestant Bishop Gardner (Basil Ruysdael), ruthless banker, Norman Cass
(Basil Rathbone) and curmudgeonly newspaper publisher, Amos Force (John
Carradine). His Eminence, the Cardinal Martin Burke (Donald Crisp) has also
shied away from Skeffington’s cause, backing the candidacy of one Kevin
McCluskey (Charles B. Fitzsimons), a cherub-faced young Catholic lawyer and war
veteran with virtually no political experience.
At present,
Skeffington’s nephew, Adam Caulfield (Jeffrey Hunter) is a sportswriter for
Force’s paper. His father-in-law, Roger Sugrue (Willis Bouchey), is among those
who bitterly oppose Skeffington; his venom frequently driving a wedge between
Adam and wife, Maeve (Dianne Foster) whose loyalties are understandably divided
right down the middle. Plucking Adam from his relative obscurity, Skeffington
invites him to partake in this final election, purely as an unobstructed inside
observer. He may cover the story from any perspective that suits his fancy;
Skeffington laying down some ground rules as to how the modes of campaigning
have shifted in his own time; from a hands-on approach to meeting the people,
shaking hands and kissing babies, to the more prolific, but clinical, approach
of building an audience through mainstream medias outlets like radio and – more
importantly, television. Asked by Adam to quantify the reason why his publisher
should so despise Skeffington, Frank explains how in years gone by Adam’s
grandmother worked as a housemaid in Kaleb Force’s grand manor; accused of stealing
a few overly ripe bananas and publicly cast out as an ingrate. The pall of this inconsequential thievery has
forever colored Amos Force’s opinion of the Skeffingtons.
Skeffington
launches into his ‘last hurrah’ preferring to pursue old-fashioned politics,
attending numerous rallies, luncheons, dinners and giving speeches that incur
Force’s ire. Skeffington’s influence is such that when he elects to attend an
unpopular old friend, Knocko Minihan’s wake, what ought to have been a quiet
gathering for bereavement is suddenly transformed into a three-ring social
mixer; even bringing out Skeffington’s opponents, like the bombastic, Charles
J. Hennessey (Wallace Ford) in a show of faux communal support. Adam is frankly
appalled by the orchestration of these events until one of Skeffington’s
insiders, John Gorman (Pat O’Brien) points out without such attendance the
deceased’s widow, Gert (Anna Lee) would have been left almost penniless by
expenses incurred. Instead, the outpouring of sympathy – however manufactured –
has come with a flood of donations, Skeffington quietly donating a cool $1,000
to the cause without publicizing it.
After Norman
Cass’ bank turns down a loan for the city to build a housing development,
Skeffington crashes the exclusive Plymouth Club to confront him, Force, the
bishop, and other members of the social elite who are presently at luncheon.
Bishop Gardner is likely amused by the intrusion; Skeffington playing hardball
with Cass, accusing him and the rest of the gentlemen seated at his table being
opposed to the clearance of slums in Ward 9. The confrontation quickly
escalates after Skeffington is told it is his municipal administration that is
hampering this development; Cass suggesting he clear his conscience by clearing
out of city hall to make way for new blood. But Skeffington challenges Cass on
his uppity blue-blood heritage. The city is being made to suffer because its
civic-minded authorities are not of the same class or religious background as
the Mayor and that is all. They are the ones holding Skeffington’s
administration, and, by extension, the people hostage, not the other way
around. Frank vows to push the housing development project through, with or
without their help and furthermore, he threatens its’ grand opening will be on
the most distinctly Irish of all national holidays: St. Patrick’s Day.
Not long
afterward, Skeffington taps into an idea how best to humiliate Norman Cass; by
appointing his dimwitted son, Norman Jr. (O.Z. Whitehead) as the city’s new
Fire Commissioner; a post for which he is neither suited nor even modestly
capable of defining, hence creating a public spectacle of himself, surely to
chagrin the family name. Norman Sr. is outraged, considering Skeffington’s
bluff a crude and shabby attempt to force his hand on the housing loan. But
Skeffington forewarns he has no quam about leaving Norman Jr. to his own
devices, to stumble and fall and embarrass himself thoroughly. Cass is over a
barrel and knows it. He uses the Mayor’s phone to immediately put the load through;
also, to contact Amos Force, offering absolute backing of Kevin McKluskey’s
campaign. The next day, Adam takes notice of the Plymouth Club, decked out in
red, white and blue as the official campaign headquarters for Kevin McKluskey. However, in attempting to portray McKluskey
as the all-American everyman with fresh ideas, the initial launch of his
campaign platform hits a major snag when a scripted (though, supposedly
spontaneous) interview on live television goes hopelessly awry. The dog hired
to portray the family pet misbehaves and will not stop barking, causing Kevin
to badly mangle his speech, while Mrs. McKluskey (Helen Westcott) is stricken
with a paralytic bout of stage fright. Cass had sincerely hoped Bishop Gardner
would endorse McKluskey’s candidacy. But Gardner refuses, pointing out he would
rather support a wily rake than a naïve fool. His Eminence, the Cardinal is
equally disappointed by the lad’s performance, also morally outraged to
discover a very large portrait of himself prominently hanging above the
fireplace and featured in the TV interview, thereby giving the illusion the
Cardinal is supporting McKluskey’s bid. Alas, McKluskey is no more a politician
than he is a garbage man, incapable of knowing his own mind because he has never
fully invested himself to learn about the issues at stake. He can be easily
bought and manipulated – exactly the sort of Mayor both Cass and Force hope for
to use to their own advantage.
As a show of
pleasant protest, Skeffington has his torch lit campaign parade, complete with
open top car and marching bands, pass slowly by the Plymouth Club, allowing
Force and his cronies to quietly observe the spectacle in all its’ flourish.
Afterward, Adam brings ‘Uncle Frank’ over to his house for dinner; an impromptu
surprise for Maeve who is, at first, moderately reluctant. Almost immediately,
Skeffington lays on the charm, his seasoned way with a kind word, the
quintessence of authenticity. Maeve is completely won over, if not by the
compliments; then, certainly by Skeffington’s art of the compromise. The
election enters its final round, the voters going to the polls and Skeffington
riding a crest of popularity he fervently believes will leave him comfortably
ensconced in the Mayor’s mansion for a fifth term. Tragically, after some
promising early returns, the tide turns against him. McKluskey sweeps the polls
with unanticipated force, leaving Ditto distraught and in tears. Ever the pro,
Skeffington invites the press in for a gracious consolation speech.
Refusing Adam’s
invitation to return to his house for a post-election powwow, Skeffington
instead takes a stroll past the Plymouth Club before heading home. The results
have hit him harder than he anticipated. He suffers a stroke and collapses on
the stairs. The next afternoon, Skeffington’s loyal campaigners rally at his
home; Ditto fielding telephone calls and bouquets of flowers brought to the
front door by devoted well-wishers, including Gert Minihan. Dr. Tom (William
Forrest) advises complete bed rest. Frank is to see no one except his immediate
family. Unhappy chance for Skeffington, his son has yet to grasp the gravity of
the situation, preferring to stay out all night and only breeze in to check up
at a glance on his old man. Adam steps in as his surrogate, the son Frank ought
to have had, and Maeve rushes to be with her husband. Regrettably, she is
accompanied by her father, who cannot wait for Skeffington to expire. But even
Roger is bewildered to discover both Bishop Gardner and the Cardinal at
Skeffington’s bedside. As Dr. Tom prepares for the worst, Roger cruelly mutters
with utter malevolence, “I’m sure if he
had it to do all over again, he’d do things differently” to which
Skeffington, weak but still very much alive, proudly reiterates, “The hell I would!”
It is the
penultimate moment of farewell for Spencer Tracy’s beloved and uncompromising
politico; director, John Ford, sparing us the exact moment of Skeffington’s
passing with a beautifully composed metaphor in its place; Maeve and Adam
descending the grand staircase, Adam pausing a moment on the landing before the
portrait of Skeffington’s dearly departed wife to replace the softly wilted
single rose as his Uncle Frank always did - a gesture to his enduring fidelity
in their marriage. The last shot is as symbolic of the great man’s sudden
absence; the staircase, lights dimmed, ascended in silence by a steady stream
of Skeffington loyalists in half silhouette, their heads bowed. Ford’s artistry
herein is faultless: a master craftsman, so confident in his ability to stir
the heart and mind in tandem, so utterly secure in his storytelling decisions
to convey all the funerary drama, sadness, etc., that he denies us its obvious
aftermath in tears; replaced by impressionistic glimpses of what more genuine
mourning involves.
Like all Ford’s
greatest masterpieces, The Last Hurrah
is immensely satisfying on an emotional level. Despite his own outwardly
curmudgeonly façade, I suspect John Ford was a rank sentimentalist at heart;
perhaps a man who masked his own tenderness behind those dark lensed glasses
and perpetual scowl, chomping on his smelly cigar - a stone face by design -
meant to prevent the outside world from recognizing what an ole softy he truly
was. Without question, those who knew him best and readily appeared in his
pictures, were both fond of the man and eager to come when he called. They did
their best work for him too. In retrospect, The Last Hurrah is a perfect marriage between Ford’s storytelling
prowess, perfect performances and Frank S. Nugent’s first-class screenplay. On
its own, portions of the dialogue might be considered maudlin or, on occasion,
too theatrical. Yet, put into the mouths of such skilled thespians, these same
words become almost Shakespearean in nature, full of fire and music. The Last Hurrah might just as easily
become heavily weighted toward the politics in the piece. But Ford, a man of
deeper wellsprings than most his contemporary critics gave him credit for,
exercises great restraint herein. He is impervious to rank schmaltziness, yet
susceptible to the good cry. The finale of The
Last Hurrah allows the audience just such a release. Critical praise for
the film was immediate and nearly unanimous, Variety (the showbiz Bible)
leading the charge, labeling The Last
Hurrah “a classic of Americana”. Even so, the picture proved a financial
disappointment, losing more than $1.8 million.
The Last Hurrah arrives on Blu-ray via another
quality affair from Sony’s mastering facilities, released through Twilight Time
as a limited edition. The now defunct and retired DVD, released all the way
back in 1998, was an exemplar of digital mastering then – Sony’s Grover Crisp, always at least ten steps ahead of the competition. As such, the new 1080p
Blu-ray advances in all of the predictable assets known to the format; better
overall image clarity, eradication of age-related artifacts, more pronounced
fine details, exquisite shadow delineation, and, a light smattering of film
grain, looking exceptionally indigenous to its source. The DTS 1.0 mono audio is
superb as well. This is another reference quality disc from Sony/TT and again,
we sincerely thank them and champion the effort for more of the same on some
other deep Columbia catalog still MIA on Blu-ray. Aside: we can only sincerely
hope George Steven’s The Talk of the Town, You
Were Never Lovelier, George Cukor’s Holiday are among the
offerings yet to come from TT’s arrangement with Sony in 2019. Apart from TT’s
usual commitment to providing an isolated score, we also get an informative
audio commentary from TT’s winning team of Nick Redman and Julie Kirgo,
accompanied on this outing by film historian, Lem Dobbs. Bottom line: very
highly recommended. Vote – The Last
Hurrah, and be very glad that you did!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
2
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