Cimarron** (1931)

The fourth film to win Best Picture and the first of only three westerns to do so, Cimarron is a tale of how the West was tamed. It features big action sequences, a vast landscape, and tackles complicated moral and social issues of the Old West. What it doesn’t have is staying power. Here is a film that, while immensely popular initially, has not aged well one bit.

Yancey Cravat (Richard Dix) is a Western man’s man. He feels the call of the wild and untamed wilderness and seeks to conquer it. Several years after settling the Kansas Territory, Yancey grows restless for a new challenge. When the US government opens up the Oklahoma Territory for settlement, Yancey forces his wife and son to join him as they once again try to make a home and successful enterprise out of new and dangerous land.

I can see how the need for escapist cinema made this film popular in the 1930s. That time period wasn’t too far removed from the Land Rush of 1893 depicted in the film. Perhaps at the beginning of the Depression there was still an urge to go West and make something of yourself. That mindset no longer exists today, however, and this is only one of many generation gaps that sabotage this film.

Yancey Cravat is the kind of hyper-masculine hero that only exists in fables anymore. Why? Because society now (rightfully) expects men to take responsibility for their actions. There are several references to a wild past, suggesting Yancey might, at one time in his youth, have been something of a rebel and not on the side of the law. He’s a crack-shot who is respected among some of the more notable hustlers and thieves of the region. Perhaps the trade-off for conquering a woman was settling down. It seems Yancey did so on his own terms in Kansas, because when he mentions the Oklahoma Land Rush to his wife, she seems to know exactly what it will entail.

Is Yancey arrogant and selfish for putting his own desire for adventure above the safety and security of his family? The current answer is yes. Back in the day, people might have sided with Yancey. His argument is that they could live their already comfortable lives in Kansas or make an even better life for themselves in Oklahoma, where there is no established bureaucracy to work around. Naturally, once they make something of themselves in Oklahoma, Yancey gets antsy for something else to conquer. It’s this farsightedness that makes it hard to like Yancey.

When you don’t completely support your main character (or in the case of a villain, completely hate), it’s hard to stay interested in a film. The glory days of wandering testosterone are long in the past and fail to resonate with modern sensibilities. Does this make Cimarron a bad film? No, but it makes it darn hard to watch.

Cimarron mostly scores well with me for technical reasons. The Land Rush sequence is epic in scope, featuring hundreds of carriages and covered wagons racing across the open plains. The rising city of Osage is impressive because everything looks authentic and it is interesting to see how the façade of the town changes over the film’s 40-year time span. That kind of attention to detail is worth noting.

Unfortunately, technical achievements will only carry you so far. The stereotypical portrayals of American Indians, Jewish peddlers and black servants are kept mostly in the background but they are noticeable. This is all added on top of the fact that only half of our lead couple has a firm grasp on what really matters in life. The end result is one those early Oscar winners that you just can’t quite put in the proper context. It’s a shame that some of the earliest Best Picture winners have been all but forgotten about. The same cannot be said about Cimarron.

RATING: 3.25 out of 5

The Ten Commandments (1923)

No, this is not the Charlton Heston epic you are thinking of. In fact, unless you are a film nut, you are probably among the majority of people who don’t even know this film exists. Instead of Cecil B. DeMille’s three-and-a-half hour Technicolor masterpiece, this is Cecil B. DeMille’s two-and-a-half hour black and white silent film masterpiece.

Unlike the eventual remake, this version of The Ten Commandments is not just about the life of Moses. Not quite split into equal parts, the first portion of the film covers Moses’ deliverance of the Hebrew people from Egypt. This part is full of lush visuals, including the use of California’s Nipomo Dunes to recreate Egyptian wastelands. While rudimentary by today’s standards, DeMille’s use of molded Jell-O to create the parting of the Red Sea must have been fantastic at the time. I was even impressed with some of the layering, blending and editing techniques employed to pull off this ambitious picture.

The second, longer portion of the film is a modern day morality tale (well, modern for the 1920s). Two brothers grow up in a strictly moral home, with their mother ingraining the importance of following the Ten Commandments. As the boys grow up, only one sticks to the Commandments, leading to a modest living as a carpenter. The other boy rejects the Commandments and becomes very rich and powerful but morally bankrupt. The brothers keep in touch over the years and their philosophies continue to be at odds until the film’s tragic final minutes.

The first half of the film is much more impressive in terms of scope, design and technique. This will likely cause viewers to be bored by the second half’s emphasis on story over style but there are points of interest in DeMille’s morality tale. While the mother clings to the angry God of the Old Testament, her Bible-abiding son chooses to emphasize the New Testament teachings of a loving and forgiving God. This difference in biblical interpretation between the generations intrigues me because it shows that those varying views of God were both running as strong in the early 20th Century as they are today. It’s interesting to realize that neither side has won out in the last 100 years.

Part of the fun of watching DeMille’s first go at The Ten Commandments is seeing which elements of the Egypt story he retained and expanded upon in his 1956 remake. While technological advancements would help DeMille fully realize his vision years later (and make a ton of money at the same time), there is no denying that the craftsmanship on display in this film is brilliant.

Nowadays, silent films aren’t exciting for moviegoers and the morals of the 1920s will seem dated, if not humorous, but The Ten Commandments was an early indicator of what the new medium of film could become.

RATING: 3.5 out of 5