History in the Making, Sugar!: CIMARRON (1931)

Theatrical release poster, image taken from the "Cimarron (1931 film)" Wikipedia page.

CIMARRON (1931, Written by Howard Estabrook, based on the novel by Edna Ferber; directed by Wesley Ruggles; with Richard Dix, Irene Dunne, Estelle Taylor, George E. Stone, Roscoe Ates, Edna May Oliver, Eugene Jackson)

Unexpectedly, I impulsively watched CIMARRON (1931) because it happened to be on TCM.

I already happened to know that it won the Oscar for Best Picture. After watching it, I learned that it had the distinction to be the first and only Western to do so until 60 years later when DANCES WITH WOLVES won.

I think what attracted my initial interest was that Irene Dunne was in it. I thought she was great in THE AWFUL TRUTH with Cary Grant. But Richard Dix, who I've heard of but knew nothing about, has star billing over Dunne (his name's definitely larger in the opening credits). Anyway, out of curiosity I thought I'd check it out for a few minutes.

What a fascinating movie this is on its own and also for its time; which is to say, there are some really dated moments in it (like blatant racial caricatures, also styles of acting) but also some really impressive moments and set pieces.

For instance, the 1889 Oklahoma Land Rush sequence at the very beginning is really something to watch. It's a great spectacle, vast in scope with hundred of horses, riders, covered wagons (literally as far as the eye can see) and when the cavalry fires the shots to start the land grab, the 3 minutes of racing vehicles and humanity is breathtaking. Only 3 minutes but there's a lot on-screen and surprisingly, tightly edited, I thought. I was impressed by not only the sheer spectacle but also a number of individual moments that are also depicted in the event. You see the variety of vehicles, from covered wagons, individual horses, smaller wagons, uncovered wagons or large carts packed with the family (including children), even ridiculous sights like a guy riding one of those crazy antique bicycles where the front wheel is, like, as tall as hell with a little wheel in back. But they all are racing across the land and it looks scary as hell. Horses running wild with harnesses attached but nothing else. People on foot taking up the rear. You get a sense of how the filmmakers are trying to depict the wild energy and history of that moment as people were racing to grab a piece of property for themselves (first come, first served!) of the two million acres available.

What's really amazing is that the scene depicted is modern history, only 40 years prior to when the film was made.

I think the film does a great job of depicting this unbelievable moment. From then on, we see the growth of Oklahoma, via the city of Osage, first as a territory taken from the Indians and literally overnight populated and developed by ambitious landowners, merchants and citizens, until it reaches statehood. This historic growth (and its growing pains) is seen through the eyes of Richard Dix and Irene Dunne's characters, Yancey and Sabra Kravat, seeing how this territory is tamed with its various social dynamics and law enforcement over the next forty years.

The first most egregious and painfully obvious (and obviously painful) thing to witness in the film as a sign of when it was made is the depiction of the character of an African American servant boy named Isaiah (played by Eugene Jackson). His inclusion seems like obvious comedy relief and his style of speaking just makes you wince, with his calling, "Massa, Massa!" when he talks to Yancey or referring to the territory as "Okleehomey." To  lesser degree, there are other characters that are also caricatures but to a lesser degree, and these caricatures are playing up ethnic differences or even moreso, that they country folk or hicks. But, really, it's Isaiah's character that's the worst. The other characters may be a bit stereotyped, but part of that I really believe is an effort to show the wild make-up of the people settling this land and the insane atmosphere and local color (for lack of a better word, sorry) of this historic moment when a whole new expanse of the United States was re-populated instantaneously. It's only with Isaiah's character that I felt the filmmakers were laughing AT his character and inviting us to do so as well. So, it came as a surprise when later in the film a gang of outlaws ride into town (led by "the Kid"), guns blazing, shooting up property and killing people as well. As the townspeople panic, the Kravats' young son, Cimarron, is still outside playing and Sabra is beside herself. Isaiah immediately runs out of the house to look for him and as he does so, sabra calls for him to come back but he doesn't hear or listen. As he runs through town, Isaiah takes a bullet as the gang is still shooting away. The moment when he's shot, and a subsequent scene where Isaiah calls out to Yancey's character after the shootout's over but the injured boy is too weak to make himself heard and thus we watch him die, are both rather tenderly and affectingly presented.

There's also an early scene where a Jewish merchant, Sol Levy (George E. Stone), who pulls a small notions cart through the dusty streets is the victim of an early villain, Lon Yountis (played by Stanley Fields) and his gang in town. The gang is tormenting Levy, who pathetically and affectingly pleads for them to stop, but they continue to harass him in broad daylight. They drag him across the street and at one point, Levy is thrown against this post that has a crossbar and he leans against it helplessly as the gang descends upon him. Levy's arms are upraised in submission and mercy in context, but its also an obvious visual reference to Christ on the cross, which I think is rather astonishing.

Later, in the first religious service held in the local gambling parlor, Grat Gotch’s Hall of Chance (the largest place in town to hold a congregation), Levy comes in and sits down meekly, wondering if it's alright. Yancey happens to be leading the sermon and he tells Levy it’s alright. During his sermon, Yancey spontaneously names the "church": “Fellow citizens, I’ve been called to conduct this opening meeting of the Osage First Methodist Episcopalian Lutheran Presbyterian Congregational Baptist Catholic…” and here he looks at Levy, “…Hebrew Church.”

So, there's a lot of fascinating details in this film. You have to emotionally and intellectually compartmentalize the film’s virtues and failings as you watch; it's a cultural history lesson both in filmmaking and pop-cultural history telling.

Finally, I think this is also an interesting example of how the plot and characters help a film a lot in terms of maintaining interest. A couple weeks ago the Bible epic/melodrama SOLOMON AND SHEBA (1959) with Yul Brynner and Gina Lollabrigida (!) as the title characters was also on TCM and I watched large parts of that, equally fascinated. The story was also interesting. Although, the weird casting was part of that fascination. For instance, George Sanders as a warmongering biblical Israeli prince was kind of unexpected. But the story kind kept me more or less glued to the screen.

Anyway: CIMARRON from 1931.

I'm really glad I saw this damn old movie.

(Originally posted in a shorter version on my Facebook page)