Pinocchio (1940): adapted from the Carlo Collodi story by Ted Sears, Otto Englander, Webb Smith, William Cottrell, Joseph Sabo, Erdman Penner, Aurelius Battaglia, and Bill Peet; directed by Norman Ferguson, T. Hee, Wilfred Jackson, Jack Kinney, Hamilton Luske, Bill Roberts, and Ben Sharpsteen; starring the voices of Dickie Jones (Pinocchio), Cliff Edwards (Jiminy Cricket), FRankie Darro (Lampwick), Charles Judels (Stromboli, The Coachman), Christian Rub (Gepetto), Walter Catlett (J. Worthington Foulfellow), and Evelyn Venable (The Blue Fairy):
Pinocchio was Walt Disney's second animated feature, after the colossal success that was Snow White (1937). It marked a major leap forward for animation as Walt threw money at the project to the extent of nearly destroying Walt Disney Studios. It didn't help that the outbreak of World War Two in Europe screwed up Pinocchio's essential international box-office haul. It also didn't help that Disney complained publicly that WWII had screwed up Pinocchio's essential international box-office haul. Oh, Walt.
Pinocchio is a masterpiece in its visuals, its animation, and in the pacing and composition of certain scenes. Its only real problem is, well, Pinocchio himself. A tabula rasa at the beginning, our living puppet "learns better" by being punished for sins he doesn't understand in the first place. He's essentially a void in the hands of an angry God.
Much of Pinocchio now plays like a horror movie of unintended consequences and massive punishment for minor sins. Have a whim to run away and join the circus instead of going to school? Now you've been kidnapped and put in a cage! Want to play hooky from home and school and maybe smoke a cigar? Now you've been turned into a donkey and shipped off to the salt mines! And you know what happened to your father, his cat, and his goldfish while they were looking for you? They got eaten by a goddam whale!
Seriously, the EC supernatural revenge comic books of the 1950's have nothing on Pinocchio. The movie climaxes with a magnificent sequence set inside and outside the giant whale Monstro. It's a terrific 15 minutes or so, brilliantly animated, visualized, and paced. These are the moments we look to Pinocchio for. The morals, not so much. Highly recommended.
Rebecca (1940): based on the novel by Daphne Du Maurier, adapted by Robert E. Sherwood, Joan Harrison, Philip MacDonald, and Michael Hogan; directed by Alfred Hitchcock; starring Joan Fontaine (The Second Mrs. De Winter), Laurence Olivier (Maxim De Winter), George Sanders (Cousin Jack), and Judith Anderson (Mrs. Danvers): Alfred Hitchcock's first American film for hands-on producer David O. Selznick won the 1940 Best Picture Oscar, but Hitchcock was denied Best Director in favour of John Ford on the treacly How Green Was My Valley. Sigh.
Hitchcock said many times over the years that Selznick's interference before, during, and after Rebecca's production meant that the movie wasn't a Hitchcock movie. Critics and historians disagree. I'd say it's about 75% Hitchcock, and I'd say it's the finest Gothic Romance ever put on the big screen. 75% Hitchcock is well over 100% for virtually any other director.
Rebecca is magnificent and melodramatic, shot in high-contrast, moody, threatening Black-and-White per Hitchcock's wishes. Joan Fontaine, her second Mrs. De Winter never given a first name in the movie or originating novel, undergoes a bildungsroman over the course of the movie from timid orphan to self-assured Lady. Fontaine is terrific, supplying the small human touches that make her character feel like a fully realized dramatic character walking through a world of melodrama and comedy turns from supporting players that include the oily George Sanders and the affable, blustery Nigel Bruce.
The set design of mammoth, haunted Manderley mansion and grounds is superbly realized and menacingly shot. The exteriors don't show a real mansion: it's a miniature, and a great one. Tim Burton clearly liked some of the interiors, as he homages several in his two Batman movies.
Laurence Olivier's Maxim De Winter is abrasive and distracted and occasionally filled with rage. It's a solid performance, though Olivier is stuck to some extent playing a version of Ronald Colman, who turned down the movie.
Judith Anderson's housekeeper Mrs. Danvers is the crowning achievement, one of the great movie villains of all time. Bird-like, menacing, unblinking, and always turning up when the second Mrs. De Winter doesn't expect her -- it's brilliant acting and brilliant directorial management of an actor. If the exposition gets a little leaden over the last 15 minutes of the movie -- well, there's always that finale to wake you up again. Highly recommended.
