YANKEE DOODLE DANDY: Blu-ray (Warner Bros., 1942) Warner Archive
“Ladies and gentlemen…you can only be as good as the
other fella thinks you are or…I might add…as bad. And it seems that quite a
number of people have thought a good job has been done…and that makes me very
happy. And just one added thought, I might say, it was a pretty good part.
Thank you.”
- James Cagney
upon accepting his one and only Best Actor Academy Award
Hollywood really did things up right with Michael
Curtiz’s Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942); an exuberant portrait of what is,
today, rather infrequently referenced as American exceptionalism, but really
boils down to peerless professionalism in the entertainment industry; the
grandiosity that was ‘golden age’ Hollywood, aping an even more opulent
and iconic period in America’s illustrious past. Then, artists plied their
craft to offer audiences a steady diet of showmanship plus. Alas, in the interim,
there have been other endeavors and passions to take hold of the movie industry
– moving the goal posts of its once galvanized hallmarks into shameless
bean-counting self-promotion, and, in more recent times, to drive a distinct
wedge between American audiences and their government, as though to infer one
working decidedly against the other. In the 1940’s Hollywood was distinctly
aligned with the Roosevelt government, releasing an endless barrage of pictures
to exalt the American way of life and champion the causes of F.D.R.’s
presidency. So, came forth those patriotic zingers devoted to Franklin’s ‘good
neighbor’ policy, and the onslaught of ‘we shall overcome’ anti-Nazi war
movies, and the heartwarming ‘home front’ homages, to embrace home and hearth,
kith and kin. All of these aforementioned virtues have long since been judged by
Hollywood as pure hokum; America’s foundations, fundamentally stripped down to
bedrock, to be made fun of, or worse, decried by certain anti-American factions
stirring within the midst of all this lingering flag-waving patriotism, to
sincerely threaten not only its virtues, but indeed, an entire way of life
dedicated to civil liberties and the pursuit of happiness.
Yankee Doodle Dandy is by far the most rewarding and
undeniably heart-felt of the classy and clever star-studded biopics, so
prevalent throughout the 1940’s and early 50’s. Its ebullience is contagious,
tapping into national pride during a very dark chapter in U.S. history. In an
era where America’s politicians feel the need to chronically marginalize and
apologize for such awe-inspiring greatness, as though it were a sin or disgrace
rather than a source of unadulterated pride, movies like Yankee Doodle Dandy
are no longer made, as stars of James Cagney’s caliber have long since become
ghost flowers fondly recalled from another vintage entirely – set aside, sorely
missed, but destined never to be entirely forgotten. Such was the iconography
American movies once seared into our collective consciousness, the sheer
charisma of its performers and the product peddled as art that, once seen, is
impossible to dismiss. It is this blueprint of both the American movie and the
American movie star – a rare creature sadly devalued today, yet known primarily
for the work presented on screen, while relatively guarded from public view in
their private affairs (both real and concocted as part of studio PR) – that has
since wholly vanished from our present age of appreciation. We have become
poorer still in their absence. But James Cagney and Yankee Doodle Dandy
are perennial reminders of how beloved each remains in our hearts and minds;
further still, how much has been lost to us since their passing, and, how
neither can ever truly be recovered, or neglected - their legend and the legacy
of all that thousand-kilowatt stardust, brilliantly wrought – defiantly, to
endure.
Yankee Doodle Dandy is really the brainchild of George
M. Cohan – an immortal figure in Vaudeville and on Broadway in his day but who,
perhaps in looking beyond to the horizon, began to harbor a faint uncertainty
as to how history would come to regard him; if, in fact, it chose to remember
him at all. Cohan had been a jack of virtually all the creative arts and the
undeniable master of a goodly sum. As a family of performers, the Cohans were
once regarded as Broadway royalty. But by 1942, George M.’s lengthy list of
achievements, his proficiency at several musical instruments, his perfecting a
unique style of dance, and, his ability to write popular plays, short stories
and music aplenty (frequently resurrected in concert halls); these touchstones,
increasingly had been set aside in the public’s estimation with the rise in
popularity of ‘movie culture’. So, Cohan shamelessly shopped around the idea
for a movie biography based on his life. He even had a completed script of a
stage show bearing his name tucked under his arm. At one point, Columbia
Studio’s president (and good friend), Harry Cohn thought the project splendidly
suited for Fred Astaire. Astaire, however, remained unconvinced and eventually
bowed out. All, however, was not lost. With a nose for success, Jack L. Warner
recognized the potential in retelling Cohan’s life story as a musical and
agreed to make a film – only, perhaps not exactly the one Cohan would have
preferred. Cohan did impose several restrictions on the project before the ink
had dried on his contract. Paramount in these was that the story of his life
should be told with ingratiating reverence to his second wife – Agnes – whose
middle name just happened to be Mary; a convenience exploited by screenwriter,
Robert Buckner in concocting the movie’s ‘Mary Cohan’ - the fictionalized
amalgam of Cohan’s two wives. Also, Cohan requested approval in the casting.
Finally, his endorsement was required on the final cut – virtually unheard of
in Hollywood back then. Without batting an eye, Jack Warner willingly signed
away these rights – perhaps, assuming Cohan would simply fade into the backdrop
once filming got underway.
But Cohan was immediately skeptical of Warner’s
decision to cast James Cagney, even though at 5ft. 6 inches the actor bore a
striking resemblance to Cohan – a man Cagney revered and sought to emulate
while still a hoofer in Vaudeville. Cohan reluctantly agreed to allow Cagney,
at least, the opportunity to prove his mettle. Perhaps Cohan’s opinion of the
star was colored by Cagney’s pedigree as a movie-land gangster. Then forty-two, Cagney was hardly a young
man. Investing himself body and soul in the part, Cagney assimilated Cohan’s
gestures, movements and mannerisms into his singing and dancing, but reverted
back to his own inimitable charisma for the dramatic elements; sound logic that
bode well for both the part and the film. Cagney had another, more prescient
reason for proving Cohan wrong. In 1941, the actor had been indicted, along
with other stars, as having a communist slant in his political views, an
allegation Cagney vehemently denied. Despite his impassioned appeal to the
Martin Dies Committee (a precursor to HUAC) and eventual exoneration from all
charges, Cagney remained wary of what this contention had done to his public
image, instructing his brother, William – who had been his agent for quite some
time – to search for a real flag-waver that could firmly reestablish his devotions
to America in the public’s mind. In this regard, Yankee Doodle Dandy fit
Cagney’s ambitions like a glove. Moreover, he seemed the quintessence of James
M. Cohan in motion without becoming slavish to, or a mimic of, the man himself.
Screenwriter, Robert Buckner had penned a superior
first draft, though more acutely in tune with the strengths of a melodrama than
a musical. Undaunted, Jack Warner hired the Epstein brothers (Julius J. and
Philip G.) to spruce up the dialogue and find humor within the story; also, to
seek out places where Cohan’s immortal contributions as a songwriter could be
effectively integrated as part of the narrative. Cohan, who had never
relinquished his rights to either the story or his back catalog of music, made
no bones about exercising his creative control on every aspect of the film.
Daily, blue pages of revised script were handed to the actors to memorize and
inserted into the shooting schedule, a constant evolution that kept everyone on
their toes and occasionally flustered the usually unflappable, Michael Curtiz –
who became the de facto go-between Cohan, Cagney and the studio. Both Cagney and Cohan wanted things their own
way. However, each man was gracious enough to recognize the other’s strengths.
Shooting was interrupted by a grave turn of events. President Roosevelt’s
declaration of war immediately following news of the attack on Pearl Harbor
sent a reverent hush across the sound stage. Listening via radio, Curtiz
gathered his cast and crew for a moment of silence into which Cagney
interjected a prayer. From this moment on, Yankee Doodle Dandy acquired
a prescience of truth to its retrospective tale, book-ended by rousing
sequences, presumably, taking place inside the present-day White House.
Today, it is perhaps difficult to fully grasp the
severity of world events surrounding the making and debut of Yankee Doodle
Dandy. But the advent of WWII was only one of several seismic shifts in the
public consciousness to rattle America’s isolationism to its core and plunge
the nation into its collective darkness. At the start of America’s involvement
in the European conflict things were not going according to plan. Indeed, U.S.
forces were taking a considerable beating half way around the world while, on
the home front, Hollywood – and fans everywhere – were still reeling over the
loss of actress, Carol Lombard, whose plane had crashed while on a national war
bond tour. The public’s reaction to Yankee Doodle Dandy was therefore
immediate and, in retrospect, was to prove a most gratifying boost to the
nation’s morale; enriching war bond coffers by $5,000,000.00 during its
theatrical release. Moreover, the movie sparked a common thread of flag-waving
patriotism felt around the world, the audaciousness of that ‘never die’ Yankee
self-esteem, casting a very long shadow across the Axis powers and their
pillaging and pummeling the European landscape.
And Cagney’s Cohan illustrated, yet again, that his little dynamo could
conquer even the most hardened New York critics; Cagney, as the underdog who
makes good, winning virtually all the major awards.
Only Cohan remained unconvinced. In fact, he refused
to give his approval after privately screening the final cut, glibly whispering
into Michael Curtiz’s ear, “Brilliant. Whose life is it anyway?”
Perhaps, Cohan was missing the point of the exercise. For Yankee Doodle
Dandy was never intended as a definitive testament to George M. Cohan;
rather, a vivacious fiction encapsulating the legacy – nee, essence of the man.
In hindsight, the film has proven a renewable and timeless epitaph. But Cohan’s
outright rejection of the picture then, left Jack Warner with a movie he could
not release without incurring a lawsuit. So, Cohan proposed a truce. If his
wife, Agnes enjoyed it he would acquiesce to its release. With more than a modicum
of apprehension and sweaty palms, Jack Warner screened the movie again; this
time, for Mrs. Cohan. When Agnes emerged from the projection room dewy-eyed and
pleasantly pleased, Warner could breathe a sigh of relief. He had won the
battle. But so, did Cohan. In failing health by the time Yankee Doodle Dandy
had its Broadway debut, Cohan had his chauffeur repeatedly drive him past the
Warner Theater, bewitched - and perhaps, a tad perplexed - observing the
lengthy line of patrons clamoring to see ‘his’ movie. Acknowledging the
strength of its sentiment, Cohan reportedly smiled. He had achieved his own
objective – immortality - too.
Yankee Doodle Dandy opens with an exuberant George M.
Cohan (Cagney) offering a disarmingly jovial impersonation of Franklin D.
Roosevelt in his latest stage success, ‘I’d Rather Be Right’. Backstage he
receives the summons of his life, to appear at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. and
regale the president with the particulars of his success. This query leads us
into the film’s lengthy flashback to a much simpler time; July 4th, 1878 –
Cohan’s actual birthday; born to proud parents Jerry (Walter Huston) and Nellie
Cohan (Rosemary DeCamp). After the birth
of his sister, Josie (played by Cagney’s real-life sister, Jeanne), the Cohans
embark upon a Vaudeville career with George as Peck’s Bad Boy. At
thirteen he’s a star. There’s no place to go but down. Hence, a fallow period
follows; one unable to curb George’s passion for performing as he quickly
acquires a reputation for being difficult. While drowning his sorrows in a
saloon, George overhears Sam H. Harris (Richard Whorf) conversing with wealthy
financial backer, Schwab (the irrepressibly lovable S.Z. Sakall). Sam thinks
George’s play ‘Little Johnny Jones’ is a honey of an idea. Convincing Schwab
doesn’t prove too difficult either and with the show quickly establishing
itself as a mainstay on Broadway Cohan is back on top. He meets Mary (Joan
Leslie) backstage, the girl who one day will become his wife. George doesn’t
waste much time courting Mary and she becomes his ever-devoted confidant and
behind-the-scenes collaborator. George’s formulaic approach to show biz
produces a perennial wellspring of successes. The family grows rich and
prosperous. Josie marries and George and Mary become engaged. After staging a
rousing salute to ‘The Grand Old Flag’, Nellie and Jerry decide to
retire and enjoy their golden years on a farm.
George takes time out to make at ambitious stab at
serious melodrama – ‘Popularity’ – a project that miserably fails. Yet,
its cataclysm is eclipsed by news German U-boats have sunk the Lusitania. The
U.S. goes to war. Regrettably, at 39, George is considered too old to become a
soldier. Committing himself to the war
effort the only other way he knows how, by writing an inspirational song - ‘Over
There’ - George tours the American soldier camps with Francis Langford –
drawing strength from the fighting men who, in turn, embrace his music. As is
so often the case in life, tragedy begins to take its toll. Josie dies in
childbirth. Her death is followed by Nellie’s a short while later and finally,
Jerry – perhaps the most poetic and heart-wrenching of the lot. As, on his
death bed, Jerry quietly reveals his immense sense of pride in his son; George,
gently evoking the familiar lines he has used numerous times to thank an
opening night audience, “My mother thanks you. My father thanks you. My
sister thanks you…and I thank you.” Mary encourages George to retire on the
farm. And although he willingly embraces the idea at first, he quickly tires of
this bucolic respite away from the spotlight. Recognizing her husband’s place
will forever be on the stage, Mary is instrumental in coaxing George to accept
an offer from Sam to star in ‘I’d Rather Be Right’ – the penultimate
highlight in George’s stage career. We
return to the present. George is awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for
his songs ‘Over There’ and ‘It’s a Grand Old Flag’. Departing the
President, he taps his way down the magnificent White House staircase to a
reprise of Yankee Doodle Dandy, emerging at street level where a passing
parade of soldiers is heard singing ‘Over There’ as they march off to
fight in WWII. George cannot contain his exuberance, joining these gallant men
– suddenly realizing his patriotic contributions to the world of entertainment
will forever endure.
Yankee Doodle Dandy is a peerless contribution to
Hollywood’s wartime propaganda (perhaps, the greatest of the lot), a mellifluous
compendium of Cohan’s immortal songs and dances and an enduring, as well as
endearing groundswell of popular entertainment that elevates Cagney’s stature
from filmdom’s favorite gang-land thug to the top-tier echelons of
musical/comedy stars. The Buckner/Epstein’s
screenplay carefully balances the lighter moments with well-placed, and even
more expertly played moments of drama that truly get to the heart of the story
and make Yankee Doodle Dandy a movie musical quite unlike any other of
its vintage or ilk. I have gushed enough about Cagney. But it also behooves me
to mention the superb contributions of the rest of the cast, particularly Joan
Leslie, Walter Huston and Rosemary DeCamp; actors of more than merit, each of
whom offer something of themselves to their performance – their genuineness
soaring high above what could so easily have devolved into rank sentimentalism
for a bygone era. Instead, what we have is a moving tableau that all but
resurrects this olden generation; a glowingly astute and loving family portrait,
celebrating the highest morality and American ideals, regrettably oft’ referenced
today as ‘schmaltz’. Herein, I’ll simply paraphrase composer, Richard Rodgers
who, when asked about ‘schmaltz’ admirably pointed out “What’s wrong with
sweetness and light? They’ve been around for an awful long time!”
Yankee Doodle Dandy is not all ‘sweetness and
light’, but what it continues to possess – despite changing times and
audience’s tastes – is an infectious allure to satisfy with its mind-boggling
professionalism. It retains that elusive screen magic and does more than merely
placate or distract. It reaches deep into the definition of what it means to be
an American and elevates the stature and importance of a great nation by exalting
that list of achievements that has continued to inspire the world. Furthermore,
the picture’s ‘reach’ is never gratuitous or overbearingly. In the end, we
celebrate much more than a lingering ‘feel good’ for the story. We come away
with a renewed regard for national pride. Although the line is never uttered,
when the houselights come up there is really only one great sentiment left to
extol. On the eve of July 4th, it immediately comes to mind now – “God
Bless America!”
78 years after its debut, there is still no classier
way to celebrate America’s Independence Day than with a renewed screening of Yankee
Doodle Dandy, and in hi-def, the presentation positively sparkles. The
Warner Archive (WAC) has given us a reference quality disc in every regard.
There is a glorious silver sheen to the hi-def image. It sparkles with an
exceptionally refined gray scale. This disc is an exemplar of what vintage
catalog on Blu-ray ought to be by now. Grain, that appeared somewhat
inconsistent on the DVD, has been accurately reproduced on the Blu-ray;
dissolves and fades meticulously cleansed of their age-related artifacts.
Honest and true, Yankee Doodle Dandy is perfect on Blu-ray and what a
joy to see it looking this supremely beautiful in hi-def! The audio is DTS mono
as originally recorded and everything one could hope for from a vintage
soundtrack. WAC has wisely ported over
most of the shorts, documentaries, cartoons, isolated audio recordings, audio
commentaries, outtakes and featurettes from its lavishly appointed 2-disc DVD
release, though not all. Sorely missed, and curiously absent, is the hour-long
tribute to Cagney hosted by Michael J. Fox. The best of the remaining extras is
the ‘making of’ documentary, featuring Joan Leslie and John Travolta;
also, Travolta’s hosted reflections on meeting his idol, Cagney. Bottom line,
and without question, Yankee Doodle Dandy on Blu-ray is an unabashedly thick
slice of patriotic, flag-waving Americana that belongs on everyone’s top shelf.
Buy with confidence. Treasure forever. And yes, “God bless America!”
FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+
EXTRAS
4
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