Auteur List: Howard Hawks - Discussion and Defenses

[Rayon Vert]

Onto the sounds, a revisit of The Dawn Patrol planted it in the same camp it was already in - that of an extremely vibrant social-actioner, but a little overexaggerated on the action front compared to his best air force films. It’s technically brilliant, and I can’t really say a bad thing about it, other than to compare it unfavorably to Only Angels Have Wings and Air Force, which are both going to make my top five, so this film’s greatness exists just fine in a vacuum. There is an acute viciousness here though that feels absent, or less attended to, in those later films. The characters may not be as fully dimensional and involving either, but Hawks is still able to balance personalities with high stakes and formalist brilliance. I can’t ask for much more from one of his first sound films.

Given your strong inclination to existentialism, blus, I thought you might have said a word about it here! As in Only Angels Have Wings, death is a constant presence. And the tone here is definitely a lot more anguished relative to the happy but nevertheless hard-earned stoicism of the later film. But for all that the feeling that comes through at the end isn't entirely tragic, and a sense of positiveness about human nature still comes through, with the aliveness and the humor balancing the grimness of battle's costs. Really impressive air sequences too, that were reused in the 1938 remake with Errol Flynn.

[therewillbeblus]

Perusing Wood's book again, and seeing how he writes at length and so admiringly about Red Line 7000, makes me almost convinced I saw another film. Given that when I saw it it was such a poor copy, I broke down and splurged for the recent blu ray. I'll probably regret it!

I recently revisited it slightly out of order because I felt compelled to get it over with, and yeah, it's not good. The color photography will probably look nice on blu tho..

Red Line 7000 (1965)
The racing scenes are just there to punctuate the romantic triangles every few scenes or so. You never know who is racing who, who's winning, who's loosing, there's no tension and it quickly becomes boring.

I thought this was hilarious to read back on because

SpoilerShow

I was so removed from recognizing who was who and driving what, that the final crash -which is obviously important (?)- before the film abruptly ends, had no effect on me as I didn't even know who was in the fucking car!

[therewillbeblus]

Onto the sounds, a revisit of The Dawn Patrol planted it in the same camp it was already in - that of an extremely vibrant social-actioner, but a little overexaggerated on the action front compared to his best air force films. It’s technically brilliant, and I can’t really say a bad thing about it, other than to compare it unfavorably to Only Angels Have Wings and Air Force, which are both going to make my top five, so this film’s greatness exists just fine in a vacuum. There is an acute viciousness here though that feels absent, or less attended to, in those later films. The characters may not be as fully dimensional and involving either, but Hawks is still able to balance personalities with high stakes and formalist brilliance. I can’t ask for much more from one of his first sound films.

Given your strong inclination to existentialism, blus, I thought you might have said a word about it here! As in Only Angels Have Wings, death is a constant presence. And the tone here is definitely a lot more anguished relative to the happy but nevertheless hard-earned stoicism of the later film. But for all that the feeling that comes through at the end isn't entirely tragic, and a sense of positiveness about human nature still comes through, with the aliveness and the humor balancing the grimness of battle's costs. Really impressive air sequences too, that were reused in the 1938 remake with Errol Flynn.

I agree completely with everything you said there, and trust me.. I have a disgustingly long writeup of Only Angels Have Wings that registers those existentialist ideas thoroughly. I could definitely apply them to The Dawn Patrol or Air Force but in an effort not to repeat myself too much I chose the latter film because it's my favorite and the one that seemed to demand the extensive analysis. The motivation just drifted there like an Ouija board.

[therewillbeblus]

Twentieth Century

My favorite Hawks, my favorite pure comedy, and on any given day a contender for sneaking into my all-time top ten list, this loud film is pulsing with an energy far more intricate than it appears. I actually didn’t like this film the first time I saw it, as I was missing the zippy intelligent verbiage of His Girl Friday and the situational dynamic extravagance of Bringing Up Baby’s various setpieces. Oh, the miracles of reconsideration! What sets this film apart is that the humor is derived more directly from the loose possibilities of a very certain type of human behavior stemming from an individual vessel, rather than realising the potential in an array of exchanges dependent upon constructed line-readings or setpieces. That doesn’t mean that the thrills here don’t involve more than one party (they do), but the gags hinge on each person giving it their unhinged ‘all’ and watching a bunch of hungry ferocious beasts collaborate by the nature of placing them together in a cage, like an intentional happy accident, and one that mirrors our crazy social world.

The film embraces these contradictions and is also about this process through a twisted examination of the potency of human support. Barrymore motivates Lombard into a state of uninhibited confidence, unlocking her potential by supplying an artificial push in a pin-prick. Hawks' comedy doesn’t ask for a complex reading, but I’ll give it anyways: This is a film about the insanity of people fighting for control, resisting influence, and yet through the nature of coexisting and needing another person as a sounding board for one’s orchestra of emotional projection, they inevitably finance one another’s greatest strengths and horrid weaknesses to wild proportions.

Barrymore finds the optimal method to react to a variable in every scene, flip-flopping in the least self-aware avenues, and Lombard’s own transformation is brilliant as they play off of one another in a never ending one-upmanship of theatrics. The performances are so hammy, and are even better because they are based on the awareness that each character is giving a performance themself (she learns from the best- “I despise temperament!”). The quieter roles of Barrymore’s associates play ‘roles’ too, just like all people do in a predetermined system governing our socialization. In fact, Walter Connolly has my favorite line in the whole film, derived from his earnest nonchalant willingness to give his own life to please his boss! Even the crazy old man is playing a role- having fun in the only way he can, escaping into a part amidst the deterioration of mental health which is anything but funny outside of a movie. These characters all need an audience to actualize their identities, and through unexpected means this film is reminiscent of Hawks' later works that celebrate paramount participation in life.

If you, like me, think that narcissistic overly dramatic people are hilarious, I implore you to give this film a try, knowing that it is not going to play to the humor many typically find to be ‘smarter’ but I believe is secretly the most intelligent of the bunch (in Hawks’ oeuvre and outside of it). Each revisit I find myself rewinding scenes several times because even when paying full attention I miss a small idiosyncratic detail that contains a new visual joke in someone’s mannerisms. This is the most wonderfully scathing film on the clashing of egos in social engagement, of the repellent magnetism of men and women, and the instinctual power blindly taking over as we attempt to collaborate in passionate activities - work or play - intentionally exaggerated to the greatest extremes to show us what we might look like from an alien’s perspective. It’s also a film that we are allowed not to see ourselves in, to identify with people we know or the sheer potential a human being can have to express themselves, to trick another, and to fake their way through an interaction to get what they want. Who hasn’t detected a passive-aggressive move like Jaffe’s early ‘attempt’ before, and yet who has had the guts to call one on it like Lombard does?

What appears to be an outlier is actually perfectly emblematic of Hawks’ interests. As a comedy, the film aligns with his ideal definition of humor as derived from non-humorous situations (the actors make the lines funny, but they aren’t funny themselves) more than any of his other comedies; and as a film, or a dramatization of life, it simultaneously celebrates collaborative practice while skewering the individualistic inanity that it costs to get there. Barrymore may be an egoist and a control-freak, but he also feels a genuine pleasure from creating a work with a partner in Lombard’s starlet. Collectivism may produce great work, but it can be pretty hollow when composed of repelling parts. Or maybe that's just part of the games we're all playing, in one way or another, all the time. This is the joke of life, and the cyclical nature of the film ending where it began is a perfect crown to cement that Sisyphean process that is infectiously beautiful as a depraved emotional rollercoaster. Absurd, sure, but one hell of a fun ride!

And if you don’t like it, you’re Judas, and it’s curtains for ya.

[knives]

Here's my quick little urging on Land of the Pharaohs from a rewatch. This is one of my favorite Hawks films and I believe one of the most truly stunning achievements of the medium. In particular I see this as Hawks stretching his capabilities giving an experimental work of aesthetics. Despite the talent behind the writing, including Faulkner, this is a film all about staging. To best sum up my feelings Hawks has made a Norman McLaren feature using humans as the points in the geometric series. Massive crowds take up most of the screen time as Hawks presents objects moving in lines rapidly floating horizontal, vertical, and diagonal lines charging against each other. Just look how Hawks visually conveys happiness near the beginning with the diagonal boat procession and then indicates horror with the next funeral by conveying a curved line through a horizontal motion (he seems incapable of moving two dimensionally). Even scenes of conversation hold by these rules as humans make up stiff figures not unlike the rectangles of the Fischinger section of Fantasia.

Even the plot tries to indicate this being focused overwhelming on the idea of architecture as it relates to custom before getting to sex with Joan Collins. She doesn't even appear until the 40th minute once its been established how all of this geometry has warped the mind of its lead. Aesthetic alone is a maddening disease that ruins society. Collins is presented as the absolute opposite to Hawkins' mindset being non-geometric often (she can fold her legs) with the aesthetic question being if this is a freeing of the horror of the mind or the last nail in the coffin of sanity.

Of course she also introduces a thematic piece that sums up Hawks' ethos quite well. Collins exists in contrast to the slaves as another oppressed figure working toward their freedom. One uses a hard work ethic and a good understanding of their situation while the other just takes the easiest option available to them. No guesses on the respective success of each group.

[therewillbeblus]

Thanks for the urging knives, which coincidentally come as I'm formulating my thoughts on it in my own writeup. For now I'll just say that while I may not have the love for it that you do, your reading is in line with how I see Hawks (and what I've written about in more detail in other unreleased writeups) as well as positively influenced mine for this particular film. Glad we're aligned the general outline of his beliefs at the very least.

[Rayon Vert]

Yes thanks very much knives. Interesting write-up about the aesthetics and as I was planning to rewatch this most probably this coming Friday evening, I'll keep your observations in mind.

Of course she also introduces a thematic piece that sums up Hawks' ethos quite well. Collins exists in contrast to the slaves as another oppressed figure working toward their freedom. One uses a hard work ethic and a good understanding of their situation while the other just takes the easiest option available to them. No guesses on the respective success of each group.

Can you just clarify a bit who you mean here? Who is "one" and who is "the other" - do you mean one is Collins and the other is/are the slaves?

[therewillbeblus]

Barbary Coast: Now this is a better use of Robinson. Though I’ve seen it before, a return revealed impressive shades of darkness I missed the first time. Hopkins freely admitting her gold-digging motives unapologetically immediately paints this compromised milieu grey, and McCrea is well-cast as the good-guy to come in and attempt to burst that bubble. Robinson’s charisma is convincing in the first act, though for all the diversity in genre-application, I was never wow’d by the actual exhibition of the film’s ideas. The scenes of brutal violence and fascist law-and-order playing out in real time and blindsiding those ‘accused’ are thrilling though, and make me wish the whole film rested in this dangerous space rather than faltering on the plank toward sensitivity of romance breaking Robinson from his foundation.


Ceiling Zero is just a delight from beginning to end. The fellowship of men at work is hierarchically soaring here, starting with Pat O’Brien facing off against his boss for Cagney, and the banter between the crew is so witty and humorous that within minutes I was sold on his choice to risk his career for this priceless camaraderie. The dialogue maintains a bright fire throughout, with this being perhaps Hawks’ quickest script following His Girl Friday. The work-friendships feel authentic, which makes sense considering the script is credited to aviation-insider Frank Wead. There are more practical jokes and familial role-shifting than in Hawks’ other ‘air force collective’ films, with characters taking on teasing brotherly roles as well as those of father-and-son dynamics interchangeably when the situation calls for it. The flexibility in relationships is actually quite versatile, and Hawks explores the crevices of the possibilities in male friendship with a lighter touch.

Even June Travis’ ability to share emotional flurries from experience, despite the age difference, revolving around mutual attraction to history, is beautifully captured romance through differentiated nostalgia joining in spirit. Of course this is followed by a machismo conflict and playful jeering, eclectically serving all moods honestly on a silver platter. For all the tonal exercise, this -like most Hawks- is overwhelmingly coated in a specific ideology that allows for these generous dips. When men fight, it’s a tough-love kind of transparency found in the deepest of romances. The drama of loss and remembrance is saluted by strangers because of a sensitivity to that comrade, holding the ability to stall to empathize and engage in rough-knuckled action-advancement with ease, due to the supportive environment brewing confidence.

Responsibility is a key theme that Hawks had not attended to in such a raw way before now, and the weight of accountability, acceptable, and quickly transferring a solution by seizing the capacity of agency is empowering and in step with the umbrella of fellowship. Cagney might not ‘make up’ for his faults, but he can continue on with rehabilitation through action. The second-half draws more similarities to Only Angels Have Wings but it primarily carries its own unique strengths, and is an unfounded masterpiece.


The Road to Glory is an excellent WWI pic that carries a raw emotional display of fear and suffering, yet still using a disciplined benevolence to quiet the individualized pain through collective action. I enjoyed a departure from Hawks to dwell on the horrors of a setting in longer waves without reprieve, and the friendly fire scene especially twists the spleen, even if it’s followed by a dying peer offering to take the heat with his final breaths to protect his murderer - now that’s Hawksian brotherhood surviving ‘til death do them part! Of course that’s not how things play out because even the temporary cowardice in Hawks’ crews redeem themselves with accountability. It’s a great depiction of repetitive action and owning those actions. Even though Hawks fleshes out some characters’ colors and sustains the runtime organically, this never emerged as a dynamic piece to the degrees his air force films do.


Come and Get It: Hawks..and Wyler yield a cute story helped greatly by Farmer’s presence. I know Brennan got an Oscar, but her honest performance sold me all the way down the river here. The film isn’t an incredible piece of work, and trips over itself a few times, but it’s rather enjoyable as a whole.


Bringing Up Baby: What can I say about this film that isn’t better said by simply watching it? I can muse on why this was a box office bomb, or dissemble the intelligent prodding at gender roles with Hepburn’s masculine edges forcing Grant’s meekness to desperately transform. I could talk about how Hawks and his stars make magic out of the possibilities of space and inanimate objects to derive humor from, with this arguably serving as the key blueprint in sound films for ‘situational humor,’ as well as for the ‘mismatched duo’ comedy still active today. Instead I’ll just say that it's the screwball comedy defined on the screen. I love Twentieth Century more, but this is farce at its most collaboratively constructed, and Hawks’ most accessible comedy, which does not mean anything in the negative. Not in the least. Assembling manic energy so consistently enjoyable has never appeared easier.

[knives]

Come and Get It is actually one of the first films to really sell me on Hawks (and Wyler) as the masculine relationships just work exceedingly well for me. If I have time that's another one I'd love to rewatch.

Yes thanks very much knives. Interesting write-up about the aesthetics and as I was planning to rewatch this most probably this coming Friday evening, I'll keep your observations in mind.

Of course she also introduces a thematic piece that sums up Hawks' ethos quite well. Collins exists in contrast to the slaves as another oppressed figure working toward their freedom. One uses a hard work ethic and a good understanding of their situation while the other just takes the easiest option available to them. No guesses on the respective success of each group.

Can you just clarify a bit who you mean here? Who is "one" and who is "the other" - do you mean one is Collins and the other is/are the slaves?

Yes, I was trying to be coy even the film isn't about who Hawks sides with. This is definitely a film I'd love to see theatrically.

[mizo]

This is definitely a film I'd love to see theatrically.

When the Harvard Film Archive did their Hawks retrospective last summer, a friend of mine got to see it, and sitting in the seat next to him was, of all people, Cornel West. My friend felt a little awkward (what with all the brown-face slaves onscreen) but West seemed to be loving the movie, haha

[knives]

I wish I'd known they were playing it. That sounds like a blast.

[therewillbeblus]

Land of the Pharaohs

Here's my quick little urging on Land of the Pharaohs from a rewatch. This is one of my favorite Hawks films and I believe one of the most truly stunning achievements of the medium. In particular I see this as Hawks stretching his capabilities giving an experimental work of aesthetics. Despite the talent behind the writing, including Faulkner, this is a film all about staging. To best sum up my feelings Hawks has made a Norman McLaren feature using humans as the points in the geometric series. Massive crowds take up most of the screen time as Hawks presents objects moving in lines rapidly floating horizontal, vertical, and diagonal lines charging against each other. Just look how Hawks visually conveys happiness near the beginning with the diagonal boat procession and then indicates horror with the next funeral by conveying a curved line through a horizontal motion (he seems incapable of moving two dimensionally). Even scenes of conversation hold by these rules as humans make up stiff figures not unlike the rectangles of the Fischinger section of Fantasia.

Even the plot tries to indicate this being focused overwhelming on the idea of architecture as it relates to custom before getting to sex with Joan Collins. She doesn't even appear until the 40th minute once its been established how all of this geometry has warped the mind of its lead. Aesthetic alone is a maddening disease that ruins society. Collins is presented as the absolute opposite to Hawkins' mindset being non-geometric often (she can fold her legs) with the aesthetic question being if this is a freeing of the horror of the mind or the last nail in the coffin of sanity.

Of course she also introduces a thematic piece that sums up Hawks' ethos quite well. Collins exists in contrast to the slaves as another oppressed figure working toward their freedom. One uses a hard work ethic and a good understanding of their situation while the other just takes the easiest option available to them. No guesses on the respective success of each group.

I'm going to momentarily break from my plan to post in chronological order, while this one is fresh in my mind. knives’ writeup scratched at what works about this film for me, reconstructing the ideas of freedom through physicality. Hawks is a man interested in tangible forms of action as what we utilize as signifiers for meaning, as well as how people banded together form restrictive and liberating connotations. So going off of knives’ writeup, I can get behind the notion that engrained systems beget a sense of blind comfort that can elicit security yet also complacency in secret shackles. I agree that these systems have “warped the mind of its lead” as well as Hawks’ warning that “aesthetic alone is a maddening disease that ruins society.” Similar to how I’ve been reading his works that don’t see individualism and collectivism (or independence and collaboration, more aptly) as exclusive frameworks for operations, this narrative embodies that idea [note: this will be more thoroughly described in other writeups]. A structure is important, and Hawks admires the discipline and cooperative ethics of the masses that he shows, but as knives points out these are hollow, and dangerous in thwarting the individual from realizing his full potential for corporeal participation, if he does not look beyond the simple shapes to recognize and initiate action towards the dynamic possibilities of agency outside of institutionally-imposed ideas.

Hawks always inspires me with this fine line in celebrating the very institutions he hesitates to endorse. There is a difference, because while he admires and believes in these spaces as necessities, if they don’t contain the nectar of free will and the consciousness that drives meaningful action, they aren’t being used correctly. Individuals need to emancipate themselves into an existentialist path that provides them with dignity and worth (some would say paradoxically) within the confines of these helpful apparatuses. Sometimes this means achieving personal excellence, other times it means stopping (not turning back, though) this self-focused tunnel-vision track to look around and notice what else life has to offer, like Collins’ novel behavior, worldviews, and beauty. Doing the best one can involves a demand for eclectic attention, and in the best of Hawks’ films, contains both personal excellence and humility to join with another.

This film, like those, is concerned with these systems as faulty when focused on empty values imposed on the future and the past, in attainment of an idea but not living an experience. Hawkins is obsessed with the treasure and conquests of the past, and future dreams of obtaining an heir, building a tomb, creating a legacy, but not living that legacy in the present. Along those lines, as knives indicates that Hawks isn’t interested in choosing sides, the slaves and Collins act consciously in the present moment and therefore are in harmony with their respective essences. Hawkins is not, and the only side Hawks definitively argues is that his way of living is ridiculous. Not only is his methodology unchecked individualism-run-rampant, but he acquires tangible possessions only to be locked away with them. He is actively wasting opportunities to engage with the world, by pretending to interact when he is only operating on solipsistic insulation.

I enjoyed the ambiguity in how we witness long-gestated sequences of slaves participating in the building of the tomb, which may be against their will but Hawks takes an eye to explore how these actions are both positive in a Sisyphean philosophical outlook, and problematic in the segregation of potential. Tradition is barren without emotional sincerity, and the sensuality Collins infects into the milieu helps burn some holes in it without fully dismantling it, to breathe some life into the rigid structure. The people in the more humble castes issue a kind of Hawksian camaraderie as they open their eyes to small gestures of kindness and humanity that link them, waking them up from the blind disease the hiveminded fruitless routines have poisoned them from self-actualizing. So these scenes of slaves participating are granted new meaning under the influence of a harmonious connection recognized within the collective. The power of interpersonal support, and living one’s best life within the confines of unavoidable restrictions, is what Hawks is all about. The narrative’s endpoint might appear to damn all characters for their selfish or ideologically driven actions, but I would argue that Collins did her best under the circumstances, while Hawkins was a failure in his coasting complacency. Her character is ambiguous too though because after the wonderful middle section that colorizes these fixed banalities with impassioned fellowship, initiated by her social strengths, she too falls into the black hole of egotistical futuristic plotting that shields her from the fruits of the present and those around her, aside from their use towards her goal. The ends don’t matter (we all reach the same one) as much as how much authentic action we took while we could.

The film is really fascinating as a macro-exercise in flaunting these themes, especially with those objective shots that capture action as-is (i.e. the aforementioned slave labor and mass gatherings) and force us to interpret their meaning. Yet the most interesting aspect of the film is in Collins' character, and assessing whether she meets or fails to meet (or, God forbid, falls in between- is Hawks embracing this grey area so intensely?) the virtues of a live well-lived. Would she get into Hawks' Heaven? I'm not so sure, but I love thinking about it in all its ambivalent glory; just as the sexual, violent, dark tones that emerge in the final act can convey immoral behavior and fear in the disruption of systems just as much as constructive change and passionate elation. The agitation need not fall on a positive or negative side, when the very nature of agitation's neutrality is to provoke and partake and live a Hawksian life.

[knives]

Just for the sake of discussion I wouldn't necessarily say the film (or at least my reading of the film) reads these structured movements as hallow. I do not think I would like the film read that way. As I was trying to highlight with the breakdown of the funerals and also the comparison to the two animators (might as well throw in Rothko though I don't think Hawks engages with color on that deep emotional level) is that they are full of meaning, but where the Pharaoh makes a mistake which in the time skip the film calls him out is in having only own structure on the mind that causes madness. To connect this, as you have, to Hawks' larger themes this is a bit like saying a person would go made only in the professional setting and they need additional units of community to work with. I'm thinking right now of the necessary punctuation Jean Arthur provides in Only Angels Have Wings or John Wayne's road to madness in Red River. I think we agree much more firmly by your statement, "his works that don’t see individualism and collectivism (or independence and collaboration, more aptly) as exclusive frameworks for operations." In a sort of summary I think I'd rather say that a lonely collection doesn't allow for an individual to thrive. I suppose the film reminds me a lot of the works of Charles Peirce.

I strongly agree with your reading of Collins though.

[therewillbeblus]

I think we're actually agreeing more than we think on that first point, and to highlight it your use of those other two films eerily lines up with my thoughts on them. To rephrase (because I see how, especially in the end of my first and beginning of my second paragraphs, I'm not being clear) when I say, "Hawks always inspires me with this fine line in celebrating the very institutions he hesitates to endorse" because they "don't contain the nectar of free will," I didn't mean that they are inherently hollow, as I think they all have the potential for that 'nectar' (or empowerment and meaning to see and take hold of) but that the rigidity coupled with one's own skewed default to individualism, can obstruct the path to access, and thus make these spaces 'appear' hollow (though because I believe in subjective realities in meaning, that's probably where our semantic dissonance occurred). Going off that, they do have meaning there for the taking (or signifiers to beget the connotation) but aren't always seen. That's why Hawks' interest is in a balance that contains both independence and peripheral consultation with the surrounding milieu (embodied in those films by Arthur or Clift), yet a balance that doesn't compromise by sacrificing the other. "A lonely collection doesn't allow for an individual to thrive" is a nice way to say part of that.

[Rayon Vert]

As much as I agree that branding 'Tarantino favorite' isn't consistent at all in relaying the quality of a film, I do think his pattern of making lists and throwing out accolades has done a lot of good. When I was much younger, long before I joined this forum, and was looking for rare or unseen films to go through, I stumbled upon the Tarantino Archives website and went through his lists. While there are some absolute dogs on there, he prompted me to see Bogdanovich's (who I was already a huge fan of off of a few early films) They All Laughed (initiating that love affair) - and even His Girl Friday! For people not immersed in certain bubbles, it was an invaluable resource that planted the seeds for me to move into that sphere.

Not to mention Red Line 7000...

If I were to direct a racing movie I would look to mimic a lot of that Sixties AIP flavour. I would probably draw inspiration from Howard Hawks' Red Line 7000 ... It's not pretentious, like Grand Prix and stuff, but the story isn't dissimilar. It's got soap opera with everyone trying to sleep with everyone else, but it's done in a fun way. It actually plays like a really great Elvis Presley movie. Elvis' racing movies were good but not this good. I like the way that Red Line 7000 has a community of characters all staying in this Holiday Inn together and hanging out. That's a cool platform.

[therewillbeblus]

Yeah his kitsch tastes can be head-scratchers, but the Godard championing evens things out!

Also, as a big Hawks fan, he listed A Girl in Every Port among his favorites and has a quote about the ending of The Big Sleep as synonymous with his own violence, that serves as a reminder of the brutality in Code-era films sugarcoated by the absence of limitless gore:

SpoilerShow

There is no "can't," no "have to." But what I'm doing is like in The Big Sleep [1946], where there's a guy waiting outside the door for Bogart, and Bogart makes this other guy go out. The guy is, like, "I'm not gonna go out," so Bogart shoots him in the hip, in the hand. Finally, the guy goes out and he gets shot, all right? It's tough stuff, and that's what I'm trying to do with my violence.

I have to agree that it's one hell of an ending

[therewillbeblus]

Only Angels Have Wings

Growing up watching movies, I often found myself wanting to be transplanted into the world of the film itself; to be those characters, to take part in their adventures, to feel the passion of the relationships on screen as my own. As I’ve grown older and settled into finding steady comfort in my own life, I no longer have that experience - except in very rare circumstances. This film is one of those special occasions. From my first viewing through every subsequent time I revisit it, I want to join the milieu of this band.

The vibe of the environment is leisurely introduced through a commonality in nationalist alignment, which immediately elicits heaps of joy in Arthur for locating a collective, followed by fun-loving games over who will take Arthur on a date and who will risk his life in the air. The brash business meeting that transpires may be curt, but the engagement is playful, like a friend raising his eyebrows with a grin at his pal as if to say, “I know what you’re doing, c’mon get to work.” There is toughness but sweet affection behind the brash expectations. This is a code based on action where people are expected to be moving, participating, taking risks, all to provide a positive net service, keep a business alive, and, most importantly, feel -and be- alive.

The success of this results in elated bonding, while failure marks a permanent somber reality that nonetheless yields the exact same activity. At the start of the film, the philosophy seems to be that when a character dies, they weren’t good at their job, and therefore not in tune with their identity- but that doesn’t make their casualty necessary or life worthless. Instead we get the wise words, “What’s the good in feeling bad about something that couldn't be helped?” which is akin to the famous reading of [paraphrased] ‘everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be because it’s the way it is.’ The back-and-forth of accountability is left there- what’s done is done. Let go, move on, mourn the dead through celebration of life. As someone who engages in a subculture of young people in recovery, funerals are a regular part of club-membership, and I cannot count the amount of times this kind of shrugging-off has occurred to my bewilderment, only for the commemoration of sadness to come bubbling up in private phone calls, specialized ceremonies, or simply expressed in each person’s own unique way- yet always meditated on in a group setting in addition to solitude. On the one hand, when it’s part of the game, people need to focus on their next step forward, their own recovery or their next flying mission, ‘focus on today,’ not tomorrow or yesterday, but what we’re grateful for in this moment right now, just like Grant and Arthur discuss the night of our initial pilot’s death. The idiosyncratic memorials to the dead through enjoying oneself in singing, laughing, eating and drinking in this club is a beautiful sublimation of positive-framed death. And yet, at the film’s end we do get a more solemn expression, which marks growth and unveils the true philosophy: That people matter, and that their luck that led to the status of death does not define their identity. Their love does. It always has. And therein lies the other side to this truth: the duality that grief, like love, is complex- and our individual experiences are necessary to have alone, just like shared moments are crucial to unpack all life has to offer, the good and the bad.

In this world, the way to prove passion between people is through an exchange of diligence and collaboration. There is so much collective spirit here that each member’s will power is boosted higher than the average person, like a group of supermen who only attain their potential from one another’s unconditional support, the way it actually works in real life. It’s no wonder that Grant refused to sacrifice this system of vibrant camaraderie for the chains of a partner (Rita) who wanted him to give up his freedom to live in the moment. This may be a dangerous job, but the highs of flying, living on the edge, and constantly flaunting agency on the move to the next opportunity to seize, are priceless. The stakes are high, but the dedication to action is rewarded with a reciprocal energy and membership to the best club in town. Life is what you put into it, and these men put their chips all-in, every day.

The production design always gives me a warm feeling of comfort, as if I belong and have lived in this shack myself for years. The limited sets allow each area to feel like home; from the few rooms they congregate in to the outside deck where they watch their friends attempt to complete missions while gambling with mortality. These spaces have an artificial stagey quality to them, just like the insides of the cockpits when flying, but Hawks manages to instill enough authentic tension in the action setpieces and develop his characters, their traits and passions, that each scene is gripping and earnest. Whether Grant is testing Mitchell and grounding him from the action that defines his identity (a form of execution in this way of life) or characters are in peril about to crash, heated arguments have the same intensity as the interaction between those on the ground connecting with those in the air. There is love there, the kind of love most filmmakers need direct physical contact to evoke, but Hawks has my heart racing with awe at the intimacy expressed as the men on the ground are watching their friends try to land. They keep cool heads on the outside, but internally tap into raw sensitivities more deeply, and frequently, than most people ever do.

The other theme that really comes alive in the second half is something as true today as it is in Hawks’ winners’ club: That true love is respecting your partner’s choices, allowing them to be who they are on their terms without trying to intervene and impose a will. This doesn’t work. It doesn’t lead to greater love but to restrictions, and resentment in the compromise of self. Now, I obviously believe that compromise is necessary for relationships to work, but Hawks dares to question where that line is- and the truth is that whatever ‘sacrifices’ are made need to be initiated by the individual, not for them. So the loving relationships in this film, platonic same-sex male relationships or heterosexual romantic ones, only exist as such due to a reciprocal respect of autonomy. In the midst of all of the dated gender politics, there are deep truths of strong relationships that are incredibly advanced for their time.

Even though all the characters develop in this narrative, Arthur’s character grows the most as she wrestles with how to manage the task of loving someone enough to focus on her own coping mechanisms rather than project her needs onto Grant. It’s a beautiful transformation, in all its messy stages of evolution, because she asks herself important philosophical questions around the murky waters of an emotional surge that drives her to dysregulation. She is finally able to join the club as she reaches a point of self-actualization where she can commit to coexisting in the club and tending to her emotions as mutually exclusive endeavors. Arthur accepts love on love’s terms like Grant does life and life’s terms, and her reveal of this, before professing it into words to ‘live in the present,’ is all in behavior. The flirtatious games with Grant are full of noticing, and taking the opportunities at, playful jabs and asking questions of interest, instead of worrying about the past or the future. Her presence is at ease, her posture pointed at Grant, full attention given to the task at hand: Falling in love. Of course, she continues to flip-flop without being able to sustain that nirvana- but that’s reality, and there is hope that she’ll continue to work at it, just as Grant and his company continue to work at coping with their own risks at mortality, each and every day.

While definitely unintentional, there are strokes of Eastern philosophies in this transient acceptance meshed with Hawks’ Western credo that blends independence and camaraderie. This is existentialism on fire. The ending returns us to ground zero, restoring the balance of order to the worldviews of Grant, and now Arthur, as Grant playfully makes himself vulnerable with the coin trick, and we get a series of final shots that saturate the screen with visual representations of the spirited reasons to live. Grant is smiling, taking off in a plane under imperfect weather conditions, and Arthur is watching him, love in its absolute form permeating through her entire body. The person on the ground is connected to the person in the air, more unified than most people are who can physically touch, as they accept and love one another while remaining independent in physical states and mental ones; focusing on themselves and one another as mutually exclusive acts, where identities are satisfied separately and together, isolated and intimate. The American Dream, where we can have our cake, eat it too, risk it all, and live it up, every day.

[Rayon Vert]

Extremely good job at articulating the themes in that truly great film, blus, and I think you're very dead-on in everything you right. I also get the same "warm feeling of comfort" as you do with this one. It feels like other Hawks films that focus a lot on those family-like small communities - Rio Bravo, Hatari! come to mind - also evoke that sense to a certain degree by also using limited, enclosing sets. (With Hatari! I'm referring to when the members come back "home" to the compound after the animal-chasing.) Air Force is another one if you think of the bomber plane.

[therewillbeblus]

Definitely, I actually think that while Only Angels Have Wings might build the most thoroughly complex culture, Air Force applies it to establish a sense of community better than any Hawks film. It’s one of the best films about community in general, which feels weird to say since it mostly takes place in the sky and in visiting different physical spaces!

[knives]

Hatari! is just fun personified. There doesn't need to be anymore said. One of my favorite '60s trends is some of the old directors making movies that are just people shooting the shit and while this doesn't reach that pinnacle which is Donovan's Reef this is still just an enjoyable movie on every level. The closest thing the movie has to glue for the scenes is whether or not Wayne will do it with not Monica Vitti and I don't even think they particularly care. Each scene is just a beautiful island onto itself getting to know this band of weirdos.

That Ford comment was a bit of a joke, but the more I think about this film that more Fordian it seems. Hawks and Ford are pretty similar, but I think distinctive enough that the jokey way the characterization is developed seems to blur that distinction to oblivion.

Next up and going for a while I'll be going through the Hawks' films more chronologically because I'm reading McCarthy's biography. Since he speeds through the silents I'm going to be doing that too. So I guess now I'll start at a beginning. Fig Leaves is not a good comedy (though I liked that snake joke). The sort of thing Marion Davies would turn down. It's a series of gags as old as the setting that as a movie is only interesting because of how it presents a point in the developing of suburbia and its ideology.

As for Hawks this is actually a good auteurist fit which makes sense for a film he wrote as well as directed. It shows off his origins as an engineer in a way that suggests an alternative reality where he was a Keaton or DePalma type of director. Even his bizarre form of feminism pops up despite the plot with suffrage and women in the workplace popping up for a few jokes. McCarthy's book has already paid off as well given how McCarthy explains Hawks' interest in fashion which heavily figures in the way the film loves clothes.

[therewillbeblus]

I didn’t think the film loves clothes as much as it loves saying that women only love clothes.

[knives]

If we still had the color scene it might be more clear, but the relationship with fashion is pretty similar to Scarface's relationship to crime. It pretends to be a finger wag, but is too involved and in love to be taken seriously as such. I don't think Hawks cares about O'Brien's character to be honest.

[therewillbeblus]

I wouldn’t use the word ‘love’ with either though, which is too extreme- especially the crime as I already wrote in my Scarface writeup. I think it’s fair to say that Hawks has an ‘interest’ in the crime world and how it’s got admirable qualities but is ultimately a failure for refusing the trust necessary to thrive in harmony with anyone but the self. In Fig Leaves I can get behind Hawks having an interest in fashion in general and using it to issue those sexist jokes. So in those ways I agree he’s not as simple as finger-wagging (ever) but he’s also not simply in love with what he’s seemingly skewering (they may be more synonymous to clothing in the silent, but I can’t see the comparison to crime in your analogy holding water).

[knives]

My take on crime assumes Hawks (and Hughes) know the difference between real crime and a fun movie.

[therewillbeblus]

I don’t disagree in a broad sense as I’ve said before there is an element of cinematic magic coating his films, but the relentless jarring brutality in this last watch made a wholly ‘fun’ vs ‘real crime’ reading impossible for me to uphold, especially in the historical context and the grime with which he greases each scene. I also don’t see how that relates to using a strong term like “love.” I do think he’s being more charitable to the endearing qualities of the glamour before sinking the ship for its blind spots, and ultimate failure to engage in what is real ‘fun’ and ethically satisfying (two terms I think Hawks sees as synonymous when emerging from solipsism to empathic collectivism).