Sullivan's Travels (1941)

Preston Sturges' masterpiece, "Sullivan's Travels," is a wonderful film that reminds us of the need for comedy and laughter. Sturges, who may have wished to answer those critics of his lightweight comedies here, tackles a weighty subject by reminding us that film's shouldn't tackle weighty subjects. In the process, he takes every opportunity to remind us of the inhumanities of the world we live in. Yet the film's premise is that Hollywood shouldn't feel a need to tackle these subjects. The film industry's purpose is to simply entertain. In the hands of anyone less talented and less forceful than Sturges, this film may have imploded under the weight of finding itself at these cross-purposes. Instead, Sturges takes the opportunity to provide us with comedy whenever possible, whether slapstick or cerebral, and somehow manages to pull a proverbial rabbit out of his hat by making a "message" picture that decries message pictures! Sturges does this by entertaining first and informing as a mere plot device to provide his comedy.

Yes, Sturges' film comedy works on the cerebral level too. It's incredibly humorous to listen to Sturges' protagonist, fictional film director John Lloyd Sullivan (Joel McCrea), discuss the problems of the world while Sturges immediately informs us that he really has no first- hand knowledge of these problems. McCrea's performance is perfect here. He pontificates like a pundit who has spent his entire life with his nose in books reading about the inhumanities of the world while the money from his trust fund furnishes him the means to buy these books. McCrea's dialogue, scripted by Sturges, is fantastic. The opening sequence has become a classic now as McCrea discusses his lofty filmmaking goals with studio executives who punctuate his pleas with reminders that there needs to be "a little sex" in the picture. It's an amusing and insightful look into Hollywood filmmaking that probably stood as the touchstone on the subject until Robert Altman made "The Player" some 50 years later.

After a slapstick sequence that proves Sturges' point about the need for comedy early in the film, a scene which acts to ease the audience into the deeper arena of the subject matter, Sturges introduces Veronica Lake into the film. Again, this is an inside joke. "The Girl," as she is called in the credits, never gets a name. She doesn't need one; She's simply "The Girl" - the love interest. Sturges even points this out with dialogue in the film. But, for her part, Lake is more than just "The Girl," she's wonderful. Her introduction into the film immediately reminds us why she was such a huge star in the 40's. Packing a sensuality that out- vamps Garbo and a smoldering sexuality that undermines the importance of Marilyn Monroe and all her successors, Lake is a smokey, underwhelming presence that overwhelms you and consumes your attention. It's like a knife in the heart when Sturges places her in lumpy, frumpy boy's clothing with a huge hat hiding her trademark locks, soon after her introduction. Still, Lake's charisma cannot be masked by merec clothing and Sturges takes every opportunity he can to get her back into her sensual attire.

Other character actors appear in the film and all of them play off of McCrea wonderfully making full use of Sturges rapid-fire dialogue and intelligent monologues. William Demerest (Uncle Charley of TV's "My Three Sons") is probably the most well known but Eric Blore, as Sullivan's valet, also seems familiar. No matter who is speaking, however, the film's high tone is always brought down to human terms by the actors involved. It is this wonderful, simplistic, human element that makes the film work. When Sullivan's butler (Robert Grieg) offers him a soliloquy on the poor and downtrodden - and how it is morbid for the rich to wallow in it, it's a monumental moment. In it we learn much about the butler, because of his knowledge and insight on the subject, and much about Sullivan because he both listens intently to his apparent inferior (his servant) and also because he ignores the more well-informed man's warnings.

The film, made in 1942, suffers from a problem that should have been obliterated by 1942 but wasn't - the use of blacks as comic relief. Sturges goal is to make comedy seem like an artform that works wonders for the human race but he insists on treating the one black in this film, Charles Moore as the "Colored Chef," as a buffoon. When Sturges tries to make a joke by having the character's face covered in cake batter, a twist on white's wearing black-face, it's a little too much. Although one would hope Sturges would have known better, it's important to remember the time frame of the film. This is actually a little less degrading than the treatment most blacks received in the entertainment media at the time. Moore is made a buffoon but at least he isn't perceived as lazy, shiftless or ignorant.

Later, the film experiences more problems by bringing us sequences set to music that hearken back to what seems like a far off, distant land: silent movies. Sturges shows us some of the harsh realities that Sullivan has been droning on about and the film starts to lag. Not heeding his own message, Sullivan finally reaches his goal and is mired down in the seamy side of existence. The film teeters dangerously close to becoming a victim of it's own goals. It becomes a little too much, especially since it only goes to prove Sturges' point about films focusing on the poor. But the point is not moot, because, later, when Sullivan returns to his own world and insists on going back to the poor to hand out 5 dollar bills to them, we realize that the character hasn't really learned a thing. Finally, though, we see that Sturges and his protagonist have a little further to go to show us the director's point.

When "Sullivan's Travels" finally reaches it's climactic sequences, the film becomes a little too obvious and pedantic. The reality that Sullivan faces is severe and unflinchingly harsh. One cannot help but be reminded of the old adage: "Be careful what you wish for..." Although, it must be said that Sturges makes the reason for Sullivan's troubles highly believable, it becomes annoying when he finds an easy resolution to his situation.

When all is said and done, however, it is in this sequence that Sturges makes his point obvious and his thesis crystal clear. The magic and the beauty of laughter is presented so simply and so sincerely that it is breathtaking and joyous. Sturges makes his point and one easily forgives all the scriptwriter's contrivances that got us here. We even forgive Sturges for his easy, happy ending, after all, as he has so succinctly pointed out, it's exactly what we want.

"Sullivan's' Travels" is a classic. Like Jonathan Swift's protagonist after which it's punny name is taken, Sturges' figurative giant finds himself a stranger in a strange land - even when he's in his own backyard. Sturges has crafted a film about Hollywood that is hopeful, joyous and poignant. All this to remind us of a very important point: Laughter is the best medicine.

Notes:

The films that Sullivan discusses easily show us what he is talking about; His hits have silly titles like "Hey Hey in the Hayloft" and "Ants in your Pants." The lofty film he wants to direct is called "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?"

Many of Sturges "stock company" appear in the film. Other actors in the film include: Robert Warwick, Franklin Pangborn, Porter Hall, Byron Foulger, and Margaret Hayes.

Scenes from a Disney short featuring Mickey Mouse and Pluto are used in the film.

The film is dedicated to "Those who have made us laugh" by a title card after the opening credits.

Costumes by Edith Head.

Lake was 8 months pregnant when filming ended. This was her first starring role. In the 50's she virtually disappeared from sight and was found, years later, working as a barmaid in New York. She died in 1973 at age 55 of hepatitis.

(Review written in 1995)

Report Card

Script: A

Acting: A

Cinematography\Lighting: C+

Special Effects\Make Up: C

Music: C

Final Grade: A