"Sullivan's Travels" is often held up as director Preston Sturges' peak moment at blending comedy and drama, but to my lights it strains at the significance of his better work. You laugh, you feel sympathy, but you can't help feel manipulated, too.
Director John L. Sullivan (Joel McCrea) has a number of hit films to his credit, including a recent dramatic potboiler which is killing them in New York but died in Pittsburgh. His producers encourage him to go back to the light comedies and musicals that brought him broader box-office success. But Sullivan is a man on a mission, to shed a light on humanity's plight "with grim death gargling at every corner." Dressed as a hobo, he sets out to discover real suffering.
"Sullivan's Travels" is a curiously uneven film structurally and stylistically. Sturges starts out making a knockabout comedy, with much flopping around and less wit than usual (Sully's response about Pittsburgh audiences being his one funny line). McCrea is overbearingly serious, in a way that might have played as send-up with a more comic actor in the role. Here he comes off as insufferable. Sturges pushes the angst, especially near the end when we suddenly leave the world of screwball comedy for "I Was A Fugitive On A Chain Gang."
No, this film doesn't put Sturges back with the shipping news, but it's not much fun. What works in the film is in part its slapdash energy and whirl of familiar Sturges faces, but mostly Veronica Lake, playing a character known only as the Girl or "the kid" (a nod to Chaplin; she even resembles Jackie Coogan standing next to the lanky McCrea in hobo dress and an over-sized flat cap.) She bites off her lines with casual flair and does what she can to puncture the pomposity around her, the sort of thing you can count on Sturges doing in his other, better films.
"Film's the greatest educational medium the world has ever known," Sullivan tells her. "You take a picture like 'Hold Back Tomorrow'..."
"You hold it," she snaps back.
Apart from fair Veronica, there's not much else to see. So much of the comedy seen early on is of the groaner variety, like McCrea falling into haystacks (twice) and a rain barrel. Sturges regular William Demerest even gets stuck with a gin rummy/I don't drink exchange, punctuated by an Edgar Kennedy slow burn. By the time we see Sully and the girl push each other into a pool, you almost want the film to stop trying to be so forcedly merry. Until it does, whereupon we get more pontificating from Sullivan about what it all means.
The film snaps into better shape at the end. There's a terrific scene set in a black church which brings out some needed humanity, as well as one of the few times I can see a '40s film featuring black actors that doesn't make me wince in shame. The resolution is fine, too, especially a delirious scene featuring Lake in a hoop skirt.
"Sullivan's Travels" has just enough going for it to make it pleasant, and even, occasionally, worthy of its lofty aim of celebrating mirth for mirth's sake. Sturges' films famously benefit from multiple viewings, and maybe for me the fifth time will be the charm. Alas, to these tired eyes, it comes off more as sermon than Sennett, one of those classic films movie critics love because it's about the movies, rather than a movie worth loving.
Director John L. Sullivan (Joel McCrea) has a number of hit films to his credit, including a recent dramatic potboiler which is killing them in New York but died in Pittsburgh. His producers encourage him to go back to the light comedies and musicals that brought him broader box-office success. But Sullivan is a man on a mission, to shed a light on humanity's plight "with grim death gargling at every corner." Dressed as a hobo, he sets out to discover real suffering.
"Sullivan's Travels" is a curiously uneven film structurally and stylistically. Sturges starts out making a knockabout comedy, with much flopping around and less wit than usual (Sully's response about Pittsburgh audiences being his one funny line). McCrea is overbearingly serious, in a way that might have played as send-up with a more comic actor in the role. Here he comes off as insufferable. Sturges pushes the angst, especially near the end when we suddenly leave the world of screwball comedy for "I Was A Fugitive On A Chain Gang."
No, this film doesn't put Sturges back with the shipping news, but it's not much fun. What works in the film is in part its slapdash energy and whirl of familiar Sturges faces, but mostly Veronica Lake, playing a character known only as the Girl or "the kid" (a nod to Chaplin; she even resembles Jackie Coogan standing next to the lanky McCrea in hobo dress and an over-sized flat cap.) She bites off her lines with casual flair and does what she can to puncture the pomposity around her, the sort of thing you can count on Sturges doing in his other, better films.
"Film's the greatest educational medium the world has ever known," Sullivan tells her. "You take a picture like 'Hold Back Tomorrow'..."
"You hold it," she snaps back.
Apart from fair Veronica, there's not much else to see. So much of the comedy seen early on is of the groaner variety, like McCrea falling into haystacks (twice) and a rain barrel. Sturges regular William Demerest even gets stuck with a gin rummy/I don't drink exchange, punctuated by an Edgar Kennedy slow burn. By the time we see Sully and the girl push each other into a pool, you almost want the film to stop trying to be so forcedly merry. Until it does, whereupon we get more pontificating from Sullivan about what it all means.
The film snaps into better shape at the end. There's a terrific scene set in a black church which brings out some needed humanity, as well as one of the few times I can see a '40s film featuring black actors that doesn't make me wince in shame. The resolution is fine, too, especially a delirious scene featuring Lake in a hoop skirt.
"Sullivan's Travels" has just enough going for it to make it pleasant, and even, occasionally, worthy of its lofty aim of celebrating mirth for mirth's sake. Sturges' films famously benefit from multiple viewings, and maybe for me the fifth time will be the charm. Alas, to these tired eyes, it comes off more as sermon than Sennett, one of those classic films movie critics love because it's about the movies, rather than a movie worth loving.