The feel-good romp of 1927, this movie sees The Man (George O’Brien) fall in love with The Woman From the City (Margaret Livingston), who then prompts him to drown his wife (a suspiciously blonde Janet Gaynor) in the lake. He agrees, but when push comes to… well, push, he can’t do it, and they end up in the city together, wherein she forgives him for her attempted murder because he buys her a bunch of flowers. (Seriously.) On their way back across the river to their little cottage -- and, incidentally, little kid -- a storm blows up, The Wife is feared drowned, and The (Homicidal) Man almost throttles The Woman From the City, because, of course, it’s All Her Fault. But, no, it’s okay, The Wife’s alive! And they all live happily ever after. (As long as he doesn’t, y’know, stray, or try to kill her again.)

"Oh, honey, I sure am glad I didn't drown you and run away with that Other Woman!" "Me too, dear."

The thing is, this movie is infuriating (come on, The Wife, you don’t forgive your husband for trying to kill you just ‘cause you happen upon some random wedding ceremony), but it is also compelling and beautiful. There is hardly any dialogue, of title cards nary a one -- The Racket could have learned a thing or two from this one -- and all the acting is pretty top notch. The scenery is gorgeously rendered, the music is atmospheric and intense (especially in the nighttime scene when The Man and his hussy tryst by the banks of the river and plot The Wife’s murder), and the way everything is shot is just so… irresistible.

This movie won this wackily-named lesser Oscar, but in my opinion, it is the best of the 1927 nominees in the split Best Picture categories, and if I had my way (which I rarely do), it would be considered the first winner of this Academy Award award, and not the lamentably over-acted and lugubrious Wings. I even like it better than Seventh Heaven.

I mean, come on! It has a character called “The Obtrusive Gentleman” in it! How great is that?

CHANG: A DRAMA OF THE WILDERNESS (1927)
Today, Chang would win the Best Documentary Award, because that’s what this is, and a pretty gripping one at that. Oh, It’s not without its problems, especially to a modern audience. Right from the beginning, the patronizing tone is apparent, and it never really goes away. “The Cast" are, as the title credits announce breezily, “Natives of the Wild: who have never seen a motion picture" and "Wild Beasts, who have never had to fear a modern rifle.” Oh, and rounding out the cast? “The Jungle.” Yep, we’re in dangerously un-PC territory here, folks.

But for all that, Chang is a rather fascinating, if gruesome, window into Thai -- then Siamese, of course -- culture before Western “civilization” changed it so irrevocably. (And if you don’t think it’s been changed, try walking down the main street in Patong on a Saturday night.) We have villager Kru attempting to build a home and eke out a living for his family in the unforgiving wild, at the mercy of the elements and an array of toothy and violent beasties -- the species of many of which are now on the Endangered List. (Seeing the casual and upsetting slaughter undertaken in the movie, it’s easy to see why -- though the jungle animals do take a most satisfying revenge in the end.)

Nah and Bimbo... cute beyond belief (much like this movie).

The problem with this documentary is that it doesn’t really feel like one. It feels… fake. And considering that the same two directors went on, just six years later, to make King Kong, one can’t help but feel that a lot of Kru’s trials and tribulations were staged. Also kind of irksome is the incessant title card usage, expositioning like all hell; if ever a genre required the use of voice recording for narration, it is surely the documentary. (Richard Attenborough’s aristocratic tones might just possibly have made this movie feel legitimate.)

Still, for its time, I imagine Chang was pretty groundbreaking, and it surely deserved its nomination in this somewhat bizarre category. Also, there’s a baby elephant! (The "Chang" of the title.) Two adorable Thai poppets named Nah and Ladah. Oh, and a monkey named Bimbo! All in all, it’s a little like the Disney versions of Tarzan and The Jungle Book meet Go, Diego, Go! -- and just as believable.


At the Oscars: Nominee: Best Picture, Unique and Artistic Quality of Production
Oscars Trivia: Um... it sucks?

Okay, this is one of the most depressing movies I’ve ever seen. The word “bleak” could have been coined for it. Also “blech” and “blows”. I’m also going to add the world “blunkish”, because it is pleasingly alliterative, and because there are not yet words extant in our language to explain how dreary and godawful The Crowd is. So, how was it? Blunkish. The most blunkish movie ever. (Blunkishest, maybe? I should really try to conjugate the words I invent before I use them…)

This is a film about John (James Murray), who marries Mary (Eleanor Boardman), and then settles down to raise a family with her and somehow get by amid the cruel and heartless madding crowd of a vast urban sprawl. Hint: they don’t succeed.

Basically, it’s is a morality tale or a parable or an allegory -- or something of that nature -- about how we should all get back to the land and the wide open spaces and decent small town values and all of that Sarah Palin crap and not be so eager to embrace modern conveniences like electricity and indoor plumbing and 24 hour minimarts. (Okay, I may be reading into it too much to get that last part.) And it sucks. It sucks up and down and three ways from Sunday, which is an expression I don’t get, yet which seems to fit here admirably. I have never had less interest in a less interesting bunch of less interesting people with less interesting problems (and I’ve watched more than one episode of Summerland.)

Oh, Jim, what's so wrong with The City? There's sex in it, and it was built on rock and roll, and there's a tale about two of them...

This movie no doubt was hailed as artistic because it was so unlike anything out there at the time -- it doesn’t have big stars, it doesn’t have great production values, and it assuredly doesn’t have a Hollywood ending -- and it has no doubt had a tremendous influence on various filmmakers of a more realistic, cinema verite-esque bent. Also, the fact that the director had a hand in writing was something of a rarity at the time. But for me, The Crowd was a tremendous waste of 104 minutes that could have been spent on a couple more episodes of Summerland. ‘Cause, y’know what? Lori Loughlin making goo goo eyes at Zac Efron is way more entertaining than this Academy Award-nominated detritus.

Or maybe that’s just me.

In Conclusion

A distinct theme emerged in these 1927-28 Oscar nominees, I feel. In Wings, we had nubile sophisticate Sylvia putting all the local boys in a pother because she was “from the City.” In The Racket, life in the City led to gang violence and the wanton consumption of the Demon Drink. In Sunrise, a fling with The Woman From the City near causes The Wife’s murder, and living in the City – among The Crowd – makes life for Jim and Mary a misery. Fie on you, the City! Fie, we say!

But there was yet another 1927-28 city that was inexcusably overlooked in this flurry of anti-urban rumination. That of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis.

I know I claimed that my silent movie experience prior to this endeavor basically amounted to that aptly-titled Mel Brooks flick, but I wouldn’t be a proper geek if I hadn’t seen this one (and, of course, 1922’s Nosferatu). A gripping tale of robots and class divides and fractured societies (did I mention the robots?), Metropolis is commonly considered science fiction cinema’s seminal masterwork… and was eligible for Oscar consideration in the Awards’ first year. That German director F. W. Murnau got his Sunrise nominated but the German-made genius of Metropolis couldn’t even get a look in illustrates how difficult it has always been for a non-Hollywood movie to get an Academy nod. (The Best Foreign Language Film category wasn’t even introduced until 1957.)

Oh, but you know what else was eligible in this first year of the Oscars, and yet didn’t get a nomination? The Jazz Singer. The Freakin' Jazz Singer! The first “talkie”… and that didn’t get nominated? Metropolis shouldn’t feel so bad. But after all, as H. M. Warner, co-founder of Warner Brothers, said (also in 1927): “Who the hell wants to hear actors talk?”

Um… me?

Next stop, the 1928-1929 Oscars… and barely a silent film amongst them, glory be! See you then...

  -- Rachel Hyland