9/24/23
Newsletter #468
The Crack of Dawn
Digging back into my early memory from when I was eight years old, I clearly remember in 1966 when the public at large seemed completely horrified by the expletives used in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? They never said fuck or shit; predominately damn, goddam, bitch and bastard. Still, it created an uproar, bringing a ratings board into Hollywood, that initially gave out G for general audiences, M for mature audiences, and X for out and out smut. I wasn’t allowed to see Virginia Woolf because I was too young. When I finally did see it, not all that many years later, I was deeply unimpressed. Most of the movie seemed to be nothing more than Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton drunkenly swearing at each other. Seeing it years later I thought the exact same thing – it’s simply not that good of a play – but that didn’t stop it from being the film to see in 1966.
The Academy of Motion Pictures, Arts and Sciences, was always mainly composed of older, often retired, film workers, who were not about to give the Oscar for Best Picture to a foul-mouthed film like Virginia Woolf, although it was nominated. It did receive two Oscars: Elizabeth Taylor for Best Actress and young Haskell Wexler for black & white cinematography. It took me quite a few more years to understand either of those awards. It wasn’t until I read the play by Edward Albee in high school (and still didn’t like it), that I realized the part of Martha was supposed to be 20 years older than Elizabth Taylor was, and then I understood what she had pulled off. I still find it annoying as shit. Regarding the cinematography, I couldn’t see what was so special about four people in a living room drinking. My friend Rick explained that it was the camera movement – and lighting – going in and out of the house that was special – mainly because it wasn’t on a soundstage, it was actually in a house. My feeling is still, so what?
Best Picture for 1966 instead went to A Man for All Seasons, which is about a man’s unyielding devotion to God to the extent that he will allow himself to be executed before “betraying his beliefs.” All he had to do was accept King Henry VIII divorcing his wife so that he could marry another woman, but he wouldn’t do it. Uh-uh, no way. I remember sitting there in the theater thinking, “Is this guy just an idiot? Why am I supposed to care? Yes, the Bible says no, but why is it your problem?” In any case, the movie is a beautiful production on every other level and swept all of the main Oscars, director, actor, screenplay, cinematography and costumes, but the movie left me cold. The best scene by a mile is when the king arrives by boat. The king is portrayed by the absolutely astounding young Robert Shaw, and this was when he was first really noticed. Shaw was nominated but lost to Walter Matthau for The Fortune Cookie, which is ridiculous. Matthau deserved an Oscar for many of his performances, but not that one. He’s simply overdoing it. Whereas Robert Shaw’s charisma and powerful technique take over that entire picture during his screen time. I haven’t seen the movie in about 40 years, but I can still vividly remember one of his lines. Referring to his wife, Henry says, “She is a canker on the body politic, and I will have her out!”
The other nominees for Best Picture in 1966 were: Alfie; The Russians Are Coming, the Russians are Coming; and The Sand Pebbles. There’s absolutely no question in my mind that it should have gone to The Sand Pebbles, which isn’t a great movie, but I think it comes the closest of the five, and personally I kind of love it.
I’ve seen The Sand Pebbles a dozen times over the years (though not in a decade) and it never fails to both engage and intrigue me, yet still baffle me. And it achieves all of this in really interesting ways, in a very odd location and a strange time period. I do see why the Academy voters had trouble that year and easily bailed for the pious, religious film.
Of foremost importance in The Sand Pebbles is that it stars Steve McQueen right when he achieved superstardom, and it’s so completely not the part for a superstar, and McQueen hits that performance out of the park. It’s kind a rough part to play, and I think it’s Steve McQueen at his best.
Briefly, the story takes place on a U.S. gunboat in China in 1926. There’s no war and what on earth are we doing there? The gunboat is the San Pablo that they call the Sand Pebbles. They patrol up and down the Yangtze River like way outnumbered cops in a huge tough neighborhood. Here’s the thing, McQueen is the new guy on board who is in charge of the machine room and is great with engines. Everybody thinks he’s an albatross – where he goes disaster follows – and the crew can tell. The captain of the ship I found very oddly cast, though really great in his own way, and it’s Richard Crenna. McQueen’s best buddy onboard is also oddly cast, with the particularly British Richard Attenborough as an American. But the best thing in the movie, which includes a very young and pretty Candice Bergen as a Christian missionary, is the relationship between Steve McQueen and Mako, who is a terrific actor.
McQueen is ordered to show a Chinese person, any Chinese person, how to run the engine and he arbitrarily chooses Mako, who is young and looks particularly dull-witted, except of course he isn’t. The lengthy sequence of these two men working together, neither of whom speaks the other’s language, is a truly great piece of cinema in all departments. McQueen is at his best and Mako is brilliant (and was nominated for Supporting Actor). McQueen pulls a lever and there’s a blast of steam. He says, “Steam.” Mako says, “Stem.” McQueen corrects him, “Steam.” Mako smiles and nods, “Stem.” McQueen nods, “Stem.” He points around the entire huge engine, ending on a spigot. He turns the nob, water comes out, and he says, “Dead stem.” Mako completely gets it. Soon he can run the engine. Their relationship is central to the whole story. Mako’s demise, and McQueen’s response to it, are also great examples of moviemaking. You are suddenly made to sit up straight and think, “No, no, you can’t do this. Stop.”
Oh, yeah, the film was directed and produced by Robert Wise. It was his pet project, and he had purchased the rights to the book. Then, after directing and winning Oscars for both West Side Story (1961) and The Sound of Music (1965), he got to make anything he wanted, and it was The Sand Pebbles.
It’s an exceptional film in many ways. Of those nominees, I would’ve voted for The Sand Pebbles as Best Picture, but that’s just me.
All in all, 1966 was a weird year for movies.
Even at the age of 8 I knew that Russians was mad mad mad world ripoff
My favorite that year was The Russians are coming, but i was 9!