Cimarron (1930-31)
Cimarron is a true Edna Ferber epic, no question. It has all the characteristics of her best-known, classic novels. Ferber also wrote Giant and Show Boat, and in all three cases, her stories follow a family’s romantic, social, and often political development over several decades. They have strong female characters at the core, and each saga presents racial injustice as a major theme and motivator. In Show Boat, it’s the relationship and treatment of African Americans by Whites. In Giant, it’s Mexican Americans and Whites, and in Cimarron, it’s Native Americans and Whites. All three deal with interracial romances and mixed races as well.
Cimarron is headlined by Richard Dix, himself a silent-era cowboy star who successfully transitioned to Talkies but also kept most of his outdated acting habits intact, at least judging from this film. Dix was honored with an Oscar nomination for Best Actor, and at first I was scratching my head as to why and how it happened. But as the film went on, I realized he is well suited for his role. Yancey Cravat (no, I’m not making up that name) is a larger-than-life, boot-stomping, square-jawed, cowboy hero of his day—but his “day” is quickly passing him by.
Irene Dunne and Richard Dix in “Cimarron,” 1931.
As the years pile on, he and his young bride Sabra (Irene Dunne) drift apart in outlook, opinion, and sentiment. Yancey is a real throwback to another often glamorized, folkloric era, just as Dix is a throwback to the silent-movie Western star. I must confess, by the end of the film, I couldn’t picture anyone else in the role—at least not as effectively. Watching him over-emote with his heavy eyeliner, stilted speaking voice, and grand, silent-movie gestures, he seems just as out-of-place in the budding era of sound as Yancey does watching his new frontier and old ideals fade into the sunset. It doesn’t help that he’s playing opposite newcomer Irene Dunne, fresh from her role as Magnolia in the national tour of the smash Broadway musical Show Boat. By contrast, Dunne is very much at ease in sound films, giving the first of her five career-spanning, Oscar-nominated performances for Best Actress.
Eugene Jackson as Isaiah in “Cimarron,” 1931.
One of the ironies of this 1931 film is that we watch Yancey and Sabra’s son fall in love and marry outside of his own race. While presenting a narrative plea for equality, or at least mutual respect as far as the White Man’s relationship with indigenous Americans goes, we also get a cringe-worthy, stereotypical Black boy (yes, a cartoonish “pickaninny”) for comic relief. Eugene Jackson, former member of the silent Our Gang comedy shorts known as Pineapple, plays Isaiah. I suppose the only saving grace here is that he dies early on, and we are meant to feel sorrow for his sacrifice or perhaps pity for his loyalty to the family. The laughter at his expense stops. The clown is dead. Regardless, over 80 years later, it comes off as clumsy and hypocritical and a definite mixed message as far as the plot’s moral compass goes. This film is clearly a product of its time, which reminds me all too well of the complexity of equality and the ongoing struggle (to this day) to achieve it and even depict it in a pure sense.
Still, the real star here is the story, and it’s a strong, often imitated one. It might even be compared to other classics like A Star Is Born, where an established leading male character meets his romantic “diamond in the rough,” and as the plot progresses, they switch places. The demure but ambitious female is on the rise, coming into her own success and independent voice, while the male “hero” struggles and loses ground, searching for his old ways and former glories. It makes for compelling drama, and long after the film ends, I’m pondering the characters and their complex motivations. Cimarron is a worthy Best Picture choice, for that reason alone. I’m not surprised it received near-universal critical praise when it was released.
A bevy of supporting performances help make this film memorable, starting off with one of my all-time favorites, Edna May Oliver, as Mrs. Wyatt. Just like Irene Dunne, Oliver has prior Show Boat and Edna Ferber connections, having created the role of Parthy in the original Broadway production. Estelle Taylor, George E. Stone, William Collier, Jr., and Stanley Fields add greatly whenever they are on screen and deserve mention as well.
Cimarron
| Director | Wesley Ruggles |
| Primary Cast | Richard Dix, Irene Dunne, Edna May Oliver, Estelle Taylor, George E. Stone, William Collier, Jr., Stanley Fields, Eugene Jackson |
| Familiar Faces | none (no repeat performers from the previous winning films) |
| Firsts | First Western to win Best Picture, first of only two movies in history to receive a nomination in every eligible category |
| Total Wins | 3 (Picture, Writing: Adaptation, Art Direction) |
| Total Nominations | 7 (Picture, Director, Actor: Richard Dix, Actress: Irene Dunne, Writing: Adaptation, Art Direction, Cinematography) |
| Viewing Format | DVD |
So I just finished re-watching “Cimarron”. Interestingly, I find that I actually prefer the performances earlier in the film. I felt like Richard Dix seemed to get more melodramatic and stilted as the piece went on. I’m not sure if it was him or the writing. The leads seemed a little more laid back at the outset.
I was a bit put off (again in the writing) by Irene Dunn’s connection to the Yancey character later in the film. Here was a woman who was strong enough to carry on when her husband would disappear for years at a time. And later, become a congresswoman. And yet, when I felt like she ought to give him an ear full when he casually reappears, with little to no explanation as to where he’s been or what he’s accomplished, she simply falls in to his arms and all seems to be forgiven. Additionally, even though she seems to have this connection to him, they don’t remotely think alike. Ideologically, they appear to be on vastly different pages. It’s not like they even have that in common. She does change her position as time goes on. But frequently you don’t see how this happens.
There’s an excellent production design. Some remarkably shot elaborate settings. Probably why it won best art direction. Also, some excellent make-up work later in the film.
I was sad that the film was in such rough shape. Desperately in need of restoration. Especially the audio. Additionally the film betrayed it’s early age in the cannon of “sound films”. The lack of ability to over dub dialogue or sound effects has actors yelling over background noise to be heard and some dialogue getting lost completely.
I was a bit let down by the last 10 to 15 minutes. For a film that was over 2 hours long, the wrap up seemed a bit too brief. Overall though, if you can watch it as though it were 85 years ago and suspend that disbelief, an elaborate and enjoyable production.
Thanks for your wonderful, detailed observations, Michael, and I agree with them. I think Sabra (Irene Dunne) must have missed Yancey more than she hated him for leaving. Especially after all the time that passed. There’s so much that goes unsaid, and I’m not sure if it’s missing in the book as well. If Yancey had never left, she would likely not have come into her own as an independent woman the way she did. She would have played the dutiful, discontented wife, never realizing her own potential, as so many women did. When all was said and done, and he was dying (okay, spoiler!), I think her love overcame any animosity she felt at the beginning of his absence. As for them not being much alike, I also agree. But love often isn’t logical. People fall in love with the “wrong” person all the time. Again, I think this could have been stronger in the details, but it didn’t put me off as much as it did you. I just went with it, but I do see what you mean about filling in the (giant) holes in the thoughts and motives of the two main characters.
And you are so right about the quality of this film, particularly the sound! It’s strange watching these winners in order, with such beautiful restorations for Wings and All Quiet on the Western Front, and even Broadway Melody, which could use an overhaul, is in far better shape, by comparison. With Cimarron, we took a huge step backwards. It really helps it feel like an “archaic” movie when it looks and sounds like this. I hope Warner Bros. (who owns this RKO property now), spends the time and money to restore it.
After the 1931 version, I watched Glen Ford in the 1960 remake. After a quick glance at the opening of the book, I believe 1931 is closer to her story. They apparently married when she was 16. 1960 did not have the stowaway; Sabra was just as forgiving; only a son (after they were settled); During his last disappearance, Yancy went to war where he died, but left her a lovely letter. She was gray haired, so he must have even older. Glen Ford had a better haircut, in my opinion. 🙂
I smiled when, after all Sabra had accomplished, Yancy got the statue.
You know, I’ve never seen the 1960 remake, although I watched the trailer and didn’t think much of it. I never had a desire to go for it after that. I’m not big on Westerns in general, with just a few exceptions. Outside of the Oscar-winners, I did love “Stagecoach.” Thanks for weighing in with your thoughts on the comparisons, Bette! You have me intrigued. Perhaps one day, I’ll give it a try.