Director: John Farrow. Producer: Seton I. Miller. Copyright 21 February 1947 by Paramount Pictures Inc. New York opening at the Rivoli: 14 January 1947. U.S. release: 21 February 1947. U.K. release: 14 April 1947. Australian release: oddly no official release date despite the fact that this was one of Paramount's prestige releases of the year. Sydney opening at the Prince Edward: 18 April 1947 (ran four weeks). 8,758 feet. 97 minutes.
SYNOPSIS: A former slave trader's plans to make California his own empire are thwarted by a moralistic army-deserter and an idealistic grape-grower.
NOTES: Stanwyck's first color film. Filmed on locations (including Sedona) in Arizona.
COMMENT: Much admired by many critics, including my colleague Barrie Pattison who swears that California is "one of the supreme achievements of mankind". I am of a lesser opinion. True, Farrow's direction is wonderfully fluid, with at least four or five extremely long, extremely elaborate and complicated one-takes. But their dramatic impact is often dissipated by a faulty script which lets Farrow down on a number of fronts: Firstly, the narrative construction is oddly episodic, with various segments separated by surrealistic chorales. Now I'm all in favor of experimentation in the cinema, but it doesn't gel here. All this extolling the virtues of California by an off-camera chorus ("Get my bible and banjo... It's California, or bust!"), doesn't always sit too well with a petty tale of a gambling hussy on the wagon train.
(Of course not all the singing is done off-camera. The wagon folks themselves render "I Should Have Stood in Massachusetts", while saloon singer Stanwyck — wearing gorgeous gowns — is expertly dubbed for "Lily-I-Lily-I-Oh" and the haunting ballad, "Said I To My Heart, Said I").
The second problem with the script is that, despite its length, characterization is so sketchy, it's hard to get involved with the principals. Milland doesn't help much. Acquits himself well enough in the action spots, true, but otherwise just glumly rattles off his lines. Stanwyck plays with more fire in her spirit, and looks mighty fetching in Technicolor, but the script gives her such threadbare cloth to fashion, it's no surprise her performance makes little impression. Ditto Barry Fitzgerald.
The one player who does come across strongly is George Coulouris who makes his Captain Coffin not only truly menacing, but even truly human. Yet even here the script tries to undermine the character (what a pity the haunting of naked feet pattering across the deck is only alluded to but once). Fortunately, such is Coulouris' skill he manages to force our interest interest upon the captain right through to his anticipated end. The other villains are distinctly minor by comparison, but Dekker and Muir manage them ably.
The script's third vice is its overly verbose dialogue. Practically all of Fitzgerald's part could go with no loss of interest or continuity, and the scissors could likewise be taken to some of the principals' exchanges, plus three or four small but unnecessary scenes.
Alas, in the print under review, Rennahan's once-lustrous color photography is now somewhat less than satisfying. Some superb images remain, however. The panning shot of all the furniture thrown from the wagons to facilitate the gold rush, for example. A flawed film, but still vastly entertaining. Superb sets, and unstintingly lavish production values help.
SYNOPSIS: A former slave trader's plans to make California his own empire are thwarted by a moralistic army-deserter and an idealistic grape-grower.
NOTES: Stanwyck's first color film. Filmed on locations (including Sedona) in Arizona.
COMMENT: Much admired by many critics, including my colleague Barrie Pattison who swears that California is "one of the supreme achievements of mankind". I am of a lesser opinion. True, Farrow's direction is wonderfully fluid, with at least four or five extremely long, extremely elaborate and complicated one-takes. But their dramatic impact is often dissipated by a faulty script which lets Farrow down on a number of fronts: Firstly, the narrative construction is oddly episodic, with various segments separated by surrealistic chorales. Now I'm all in favor of experimentation in the cinema, but it doesn't gel here. All this extolling the virtues of California by an off-camera chorus ("Get my bible and banjo... It's California, or bust!"), doesn't always sit too well with a petty tale of a gambling hussy on the wagon train.
(Of course not all the singing is done off-camera. The wagon folks themselves render "I Should Have Stood in Massachusetts", while saloon singer Stanwyck — wearing gorgeous gowns — is expertly dubbed for "Lily-I-Lily-I-Oh" and the haunting ballad, "Said I To My Heart, Said I").
The second problem with the script is that, despite its length, characterization is so sketchy, it's hard to get involved with the principals. Milland doesn't help much. Acquits himself well enough in the action spots, true, but otherwise just glumly rattles off his lines. Stanwyck plays with more fire in her spirit, and looks mighty fetching in Technicolor, but the script gives her such threadbare cloth to fashion, it's no surprise her performance makes little impression. Ditto Barry Fitzgerald.
The one player who does come across strongly is George Coulouris who makes his Captain Coffin not only truly menacing, but even truly human. Yet even here the script tries to undermine the character (what a pity the haunting of naked feet pattering across the deck is only alluded to but once). Fortunately, such is Coulouris' skill he manages to force our interest interest upon the captain right through to his anticipated end. The other villains are distinctly minor by comparison, but Dekker and Muir manage them ably.
The script's third vice is its overly verbose dialogue. Practically all of Fitzgerald's part could go with no loss of interest or continuity, and the scissors could likewise be taken to some of the principals' exchanges, plus three or four small but unnecessary scenes.
Alas, in the print under review, Rennahan's once-lustrous color photography is now somewhat less than satisfying. Some superb images remain, however. The panning shot of all the furniture thrown from the wagons to facilitate the gold rush, for example. A flawed film, but still vastly entertaining. Superb sets, and unstintingly lavish production values help.