The Warner brothers all had interesting backgrounds. I think a feature film was made about them. And this pat on the back to their distinctive studio is deserved and in many ways nicely done.
It's hosted by Clint Eastwood, assisted by multiple current stars and comments from old timers like Irving "Swifty" Lazar. We see lots of clips from films made at the studio -- both those when Warners held so many people under their notorious seven-year contracts, and those independents who now use its facilities in Burbank, California. The obvious model for this sort of thing is MGM's wildly successful "That's Entertainment." Really, it's a must for people who care anything about the history of popular culture.
I fear most young people don't care or know. Recently I was watching a taped lecture on the history of Ancient Greece by David Kagan at Yale and, in the course of illustrating the personality of one of Greece's earlier leaders, he did an impression of Edward G. Robinson -- "Mneah! Okay, now get movin'." Something like that. None of the students laughed. He asked how many of them had heard of Edward G. Robinson, received a feeble response, and said, "Okay, you've put me in my place. It gets worse every year." My own impeccable impersonation of Jimmy Cagney during a course on memory gets an identical rise out of the students. They never heard of these guys.
Yet, they were icons and, for some, are still touchstones in the development of the few truly American art forms. (Another is jazz.) Without some sort of contact with at least the veneer of vernacular arts, how is it possible to appreciate the joke when some late-night comic moans, "Oh, the humanity!"
Enough of that. About half the film is about these early, unpretentious, inexpensive, movies from Warner Brothers, mostly well intentioned and aimed at working-class audiences. The rest is devoted to the studio's modern productions -- modern in the sense that they're less than 40 years old. I didn't care for the balance. The result is a little too much like an extended preview of recent or coming attractions.
The focus varies a good deal, too, even within each section. The first half tells us about the stars. Genres are mentioned in one or two sentences. And the clips we see are lengthy, representing one example, chosen for no particular reason. Cagney's "Public Enemy" gets about thirty seconds. Busby Berkely's productions get about five minutes.
There's quite a bit of time given to the people who were rich enough to buy the studio after the last surviving Warner brother left. I don't really care who runs the studio now. It seemed to stop having any cohesiveness when the studio contract system ended, no goal other than making money, so sense of community or any desire to create. The owners now seem to be moguls only in the sense that they're terribly wealthy, and the studio has become only a conduit for ambitious, talented, and lucky personalities.
But it's easy to enjoy some of the fun stuff. There are a few minutes of out takes from early movies. Watch James Stewart flub a line from his pre-war career and use the term suggested by the letters "SOB." (Kids: Jimmy Stewart was this actor. He always played nice guys. He was a pilot too and -- well, look him up on Google.) Then there are the first screen tests of people like James Dean, Paul Newman, Marlon Brando, and a twenty-one-year-old Orson Welles. (Kids: Orson Welles was -- well, forget it.) We get to see a little of the evolution of Warners' cartoon characters too, like Bugs and Porky and Daffy. Mel Blanc appears for about ten seconds.
Adults, especially those who dissolve into sobs while watching "Casablanca", will probably enjoy it. Younger folks will find it informative. I kind of liked it but I'd rather have seen it done a little differently.
It's hosted by Clint Eastwood, assisted by multiple current stars and comments from old timers like Irving "Swifty" Lazar. We see lots of clips from films made at the studio -- both those when Warners held so many people under their notorious seven-year contracts, and those independents who now use its facilities in Burbank, California. The obvious model for this sort of thing is MGM's wildly successful "That's Entertainment." Really, it's a must for people who care anything about the history of popular culture.
I fear most young people don't care or know. Recently I was watching a taped lecture on the history of Ancient Greece by David Kagan at Yale and, in the course of illustrating the personality of one of Greece's earlier leaders, he did an impression of Edward G. Robinson -- "Mneah! Okay, now get movin'." Something like that. None of the students laughed. He asked how many of them had heard of Edward G. Robinson, received a feeble response, and said, "Okay, you've put me in my place. It gets worse every year." My own impeccable impersonation of Jimmy Cagney during a course on memory gets an identical rise out of the students. They never heard of these guys.
Yet, they were icons and, for some, are still touchstones in the development of the few truly American art forms. (Another is jazz.) Without some sort of contact with at least the veneer of vernacular arts, how is it possible to appreciate the joke when some late-night comic moans, "Oh, the humanity!"
Enough of that. About half the film is about these early, unpretentious, inexpensive, movies from Warner Brothers, mostly well intentioned and aimed at working-class audiences. The rest is devoted to the studio's modern productions -- modern in the sense that they're less than 40 years old. I didn't care for the balance. The result is a little too much like an extended preview of recent or coming attractions.
The focus varies a good deal, too, even within each section. The first half tells us about the stars. Genres are mentioned in one or two sentences. And the clips we see are lengthy, representing one example, chosen for no particular reason. Cagney's "Public Enemy" gets about thirty seconds. Busby Berkely's productions get about five minutes.
There's quite a bit of time given to the people who were rich enough to buy the studio after the last surviving Warner brother left. I don't really care who runs the studio now. It seemed to stop having any cohesiveness when the studio contract system ended, no goal other than making money, so sense of community or any desire to create. The owners now seem to be moguls only in the sense that they're terribly wealthy, and the studio has become only a conduit for ambitious, talented, and lucky personalities.
But it's easy to enjoy some of the fun stuff. There are a few minutes of out takes from early movies. Watch James Stewart flub a line from his pre-war career and use the term suggested by the letters "SOB." (Kids: Jimmy Stewart was this actor. He always played nice guys. He was a pilot too and -- well, look him up on Google.) Then there are the first screen tests of people like James Dean, Paul Newman, Marlon Brando, and a twenty-one-year-old Orson Welles. (Kids: Orson Welles was -- well, forget it.) We get to see a little of the evolution of Warners' cartoon characters too, like Bugs and Porky and Daffy. Mel Blanc appears for about ten seconds.
Adults, especially those who dissolve into sobs while watching "Casablanca", will probably enjoy it. Younger folks will find it informative. I kind of liked it but I'd rather have seen it done a little differently.