CIMARRON: Blu-ray (RKO Radio Pictures, 1931) Warner Archive
Wesley Ruggles’ Cimarron
(1931) holds a dubious distinction as the only Oscar-winning Best Picture in
history to have lost money at the box office. Based on Edna Ferber’s sprawling
novel, much later to be remade by MGM as – what else? – Cimarron
(1961), this first stab at the tale remains very much a product of its time: in
this case, the dawning of the sound era.
Despite debuting at the height of the Great Depression, RKO Radio
Pictures spent profligately to the tune of $1.5 million (then, an unheard sum
for which 5 substantial pictures could have been made). RKO’s faith in the
property attests to Ferber’s hallowed reputation in the literary world. Born,
Aug. 15, 1885 in Kalamazoo, MI, Edna Ferber faced brutal antisemitism, arguably,
to toughen her resolve as well as her ability to make light caricature of her
seeming impervious nature to criticism. Aspiring to become an actress,
forbidden to study elocution, and dropping out of school to support her family,
Ferber later wrote for the Milwaukee Journal. Ill-health from anemia arguably
forced Ferber into her true calling as a writer. Her first short stories,
penned while convalescing, were later published together as her first novel, Dawn
O'Hara, The Girl Who Laughed, in 1911. Ten years later, Ferber received a
Pulitzer for So Big – a novel she possessed little faith in, but was
wildly successful and, also made into an early talkie in 1932. But it was Ferber’s next effort, Show Boat,
that solidified her reputation as one of the foremost female writers of her
generation.
Amidst all this furor for Ferber,
she published Cimarron – a sprawling western saga. It captivated the
nation with its stark, often harrowing depiction of civilizing of the great
plains and beyond. As Universal had already outbid RKO for the rights to
produce Show Boat – a movie, repeatedly delayed in its inception and
achieving an even greater splash on the big screen, Cimarron was rushed
into production by RKO to capitalize on its runaway success as a best seller.
Ruggles began filming the Oklahoma land rush in the summer of 1930 at Jasmin
Quinn Ranch outside of Los Angeles, employing 28 cameramen and a multitude of
camera assistants to chronicle the mass exodus of more than 5,000 costumed
extras, carriages, buckboards, surreys, and bicyclists. Under the best of
circumstances today, this sequence would be considered a logistical nightmare.
But in 1931, it was nothing short of jaw-dropping audacious film-making to say
the least. Nothing about this sequence
is small, and everything was a first, meticulously plotted by cinematographer,
Edward Cronjager who was familiar with gargantuan set pieces, having lensed one
the grandest spectacles in silent cinema, Intolerance (1916) for Cecil
B. DeMille. RKO also purchased 89 acres in Encino, appointing Art Director, Max
Ree to literally hew a town from the wilderness, to include a massive 3-block
stretch of main street, complete with shops, houses, a saloon and a church.
Ree’s efforts were of a scope and quality to earn him an Oscar, and, in years
yet to follow, would remain free-standing sets, seen in countless westerns.
Cimarron is essentially
the tale of one man’s failed participation in the Oklahoma land rush of 1889.
We meet robust, Yancey Cravat (Richard Dix), his young bride, Sabra (Irene
Dunne) and their son, Cim, who have crossed the border from Kansas to partake.
In the ensuing race, Yancey is outwitted by Dixie Lee (Estelle Taylor), a
prostitute with whom Yancey once promised a grand future. Now, she jealously
steals back a prime piece of real estate Yancey had anticipated to own for his
family. His plans for establishing a ranch are also thwarted. So, Yancey moves
his family into the fledgling town of Osage where he confronts and kills Lon
Yountis (Stanley Fields), an outlaw to have ruthlessly murdered the publisher
of the local newspaper. Having a background in publishing, Yancey establishes
the Oklahoma Wigwam, a newspaper and the first bastion to revolutionize Osage
into a respectable town. After the birth of their daughter, Donna (Judith
Barrett), outlaws led by The Kid (William Collier Jr.) threaten Osage’s
newfound civility. The Kid just happens to be an old acquaintance of Yancey's.
Tragically, to save Osage, Yancey must kill The Kid. Overcome by guilt, Yancey
departs Osage, leaving Sabra and his children behind to participate in settling
the Cherokee Strip.
Sabra takes over the Oklahoma
Wigwam, and rears their offspring. Five long years pass. Yancey, now a
successful attorney returns to defend Dixie Lee, since declared a public
nuisance. Earning her acquittal drives a rift between Yancey and Sabra. In the
interim, Osage has evolved into a thriving community. And although Yancey
supports Oklahoma in its bid for statehood in 1907, he never benefits from the
town’s prosperous oil boom. Sabra is wounded by her husband’s lacking ability
to elevate their stature in the community. Vehemently anti-Native American,
despite their son's (Don Dillaway) romantic involvement with an Indian woman,
Sabra ventures on to become the first female congresswoman in the new state.
Having reformed her lowly opinions of Native Americans, Sabra promotes the
virtues of her Indian daughter-in-law, Ruby Big Elk (Dolores Brown). Sabra and
Yancey are briefly reunited after she rushes to his side during a devastating
oil rig explosion. And although Yancey is instrumental in saving several
drillers caught in the blast, he later succumbs to his injuries and dies in
Sabra’s arms.
RKO went all-out for Cimarron’s
premiere with a live stage show and appearances from its stars. Yet, there was
very little hope for the picture to recoup its elephantine budget. Indeed, when
the dust had finally settled and the studio’s ledgers were reconciled,
Cimarron barely made back half its outlay, losing $565,000 – a figure,
recouped during its 1935 re-issue. Cimarron would remain the most
expensive movie made at RKO until 1939’s Gunga Din. Viewed today, it
remains an exemplar for what then passed as a super-colossus. Wesley Ruggles command of the epic action
sequences holds true as compelling entertainment. Unfortunately, a lot of the
melodrama to book-end these moments of pure-adrenaline exhilaration falls
utterly flat, marred by the shortcomings in early sound recording. The
chemistry between Irene Dunne and Richard Dix is strangely off. Fair enough,
the actors here, accustomed to the over-exaggerated gestures of the newly
retired silent era, perform in overwrought gestures, mannerisms and
expressions. But it is the intimacy between these two people – always at odds
in their ambitions, and yet strangely bound to each other – that occasionally
lags and drags the saga down to its knees. The authenticity paid to Ferber’s
novel is as commendable, especially given the disastrous results exhibited by
MGM’s glossier, but incredibly cost-cutting and dull widescreen and
stereophonic remake. The original Cimarron served mostly as a chronicle
that, like history itself, is bereft of any known trajectory to establish a
dramatic arc. Instead, Cimarron just goes on…and on…and on, until the events
outlined in Ferber’s novel have burnt themselves void of all potential dramatic
meaning.
Warner Archive’s (WAC) new-to-Blu
is derived from a 4K master culled from surviving elements. No original camera
negative is known to exist. The quality of elements widely varies, from
relatively crisp imagery, to some soft, even slightly out of focus inserts,
perhaps derived from prints several generations removed, and dupe negatives to
have seen better days. Given this Blu marks the picture’s 92nd
anniversary, we can forgive these deficits. Because WAC has done its due
diligence, mastering from what has survived, and applying every digital
tool at their disposal to preserve Cimarron for posterity. Age-related
artifacts are not an issue and contrast is relatively pleasing on the whole –
again, with caveats throughout. If you are looking for a reference quality
transfer…it isn’t here. If you can respect the monumental efforts applied to
halt the ravages of time, and also, to massage careworn elements into an
acceptable home video presentation, you will be pleasantly pleased. The 1.0 mono
is grotesquely limited. At times, dialogue is practically inaudible. Again, not
WAC’s fault. Two Warner cartoons and one MGM short accompany this release.
Bottom line: as a cultural artifact from the dawn of sound, Cimarron is
very impressive. Thematically, however, it has dated rather badly. The Blu-ray
is up to snuff, given the Herculean shortcomings in the original surviving
elements. Judge and buy accordingly.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 - 5 being the best)
2
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
1
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