Saturday, August 8, 2026

Victor Fleming | Captains Courageous / 1937

the little fish

by Douglas Messerli

 

John Lee Mahin, Marc Connelly, and Dale Van Every, based on the novel by Rudyard Kipling (screenplay), Victor Fleming (director) Captains Courageous / 1937

 

The 1937 film by Victor Fleming is basically an intergenerational love story between a young 13-year-old boy, Harvey Cheyne (Freddie Bartholomew) and a Portuguese sailor, Manuel Fidello (Spencer Tracy) who saves the boy when he falls overboard while sailing on a streamliner, accompanied by his wealthy, quite removed father (Melvyn Douglas).

     Before going any further, I should emphasize that this is not a pedophilic work; there is no sex and only at a couple of moments is any physical contact express, Manuel’s hand caresses Harvey’s cheek, and at one point he gently pats the boy’s butt. Their relationship is generally perceived by most critics and viewers, who would surely deny all gay suggestions, to be a father-son like relationship or a kind of sea-going mentorship. But I think anyone who sees it with an open mind will comprehend that there is real love between the two, the older man calling his “catch” a “little fish,” and the previously spoiled child, absolutely in love with Manuel, so much so that when, at the end of work, he is returned to his now chastened father, he can only beg to go back to sea, even if he witnessed Manuel’s death near the end of the voyage when, in Captain Disko Troop’s (Lionel Barrymore) desperate race to reach to Glouster with this catch before his competitor, Manuel is caught up in the rigging of the falling mast and drowns in the sea.


     And yes, there is plenty of patriarchal patronizing of the young willful Harvey, as Alba M. insists in her on-line essay “Captains Courageous: A Critical Analysis,” and as she points out, the boy’s behavior “is explicitly coded as ‘feminine,’ like a ‘sissy’ boy. But Harvey is at first a monster of a spoiled child who lies, attempts to bribe his way into a special club for which he will certainly not be elected (even his peers detest him), and finally threatens the chairman of the club, “the Buffaloes,” with his father being fired by his own wealthy father. He even threatens to report made up sexual abuse by his teacher.

     This is like a spoiled young Trump, raised without any true parental involvement, so selfish that he cannot he recognize it as bad behavior. This was a character which the beautiful Bartholomew, at the time the most well-known actor other than Shirley Temple, played well, not only in this film, but in Little Lord Fauntleroy (1936) where audience members saw the character as being “sissified” and “emasculated.”

     In this film, Harvey is punished for his actions by being expelled from his school for a semester, and his father finally realizes that he has not properly paid attention to his son’s actions. The streamliner voyage to Europe is supposed to resolve that problem, but once again, he ignores his son while doing business, and Harvey, once again taunting other boys on board, hides on the ship’s deck, leading his fall into the water, he near drowning, and his being saved by Manuel.


     Even once aboard the fishing boat, Harvey attempts to demand that the captain and crew take him immediately back to New York, and attempts to convince them, unsuccessfully, that his father is a wealthy man.

     Assigned the work of a cabin boy, just as the captain’s son Dan (Mickey Rooney) is treated, he refuses to obey orders or even eat, until he becomes so hungry that he gives into some of their demands, and learns from Dan how to cut fish. But if Dan played a major role of befriending the boy, the two forming an almost intimate friendship and bond in the original novel, here Rooney’s role is drastically curtailed, as he, along with the elder sailors, mock the newcomer.

     Soon after they even begin to see the boy as a danger to the ship, a kind of Jonah who will bring them bad luck.

     Only does Manuel actually commune with boy, attempting to explain his own relationship to the sea and his role as someone who sings and finds pleasure in fishing. He even talks about his own father and his unexpected death aboard just such a boat.

     As Manuel continues to develop almost a romantic interest in the boy, tucking him in with his coat (often—as when James Dean, in exchange for Sal Mineo’s gun, lovingly offers him his red jacket—represented as a symbol of romantic love) when Harvey insists of sleeping on deck, the other sailors even notice Manuel’s interest in and protection of the boy, particularly when he creates what is almost a love-song to his “little fish.” Accordingly, Manuel must behave roughly with the boy just to convince them that his has no pedophilic interest in the beautiful child.

      But, in the end, it doesn’t work, as the two become increasingly intertwined.  In a rare moment of friendliness and honesty, Harvey even comments: “Thank you for covering me up with your coat and everything. I—I never did thank you for saving my life, I ought to thank you for, all right.”


    As commentator Alba M. makes quite clear—although I strongly disagree with her theory that everything in this film should be view through a lens of a patriarchal control of children (children are not empty vessels who learn values by themselves; they need guidance and sometimes even correction; and I don’t mean corporal punishment)—by now Harvey is truly in love with his so-called mentor and, in a scene in which the two began the conversation about having “bad thoughts,” Manuel tells him that when he returns to land, he will go with girls, the boy immediately reacts in shock, “Girls.” Manuel continues, that yes, back in Gloucester he has many girls. Harvey’s reaction is like spurned lover: “Oh, you don’t go with girls?” “Every man go with girl…, begins Manuel before he realizes that in order to maintain the love relationship he has with the boy, he must revise his statement, lying to him that he was just joking and that he most certainly won’t meet up with the girls.

      This is about as obvious as it gets, but the film has now made it quite clear about how things stand between the two of them. Harvey is now a jealous lover, which makes things even more tragic when Manuel, caught in the mast, dies before his eyes.

       In the final scene he attends a memorial funeral with his father for all the men who have died at sea, tossing a wreath into the waters in his final expression of love for the man who has changed his life.

       In J. D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, a prostitute tells Holden Caulfield that he looks just like the boy co-staring Melvyn Douglas, without naming the movie title. Yet, unlike Harvey, Holden never does learn from others, and remains an outsider to his own life.

       

Los Angeles, August 8, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (August 2026).


Charles Reisner | Chasing Rainbows / 1930

happier days

by Douglas Messerli

 

Wells Root (screenplay, with dialogue and additional scenes by Bess Meredyth, Al Boasberg, Kenyon Nicholson, and Charles Reisner [based on the story “Road Show” by Robert Hopkins and Bess Meredyth]), Charles Reisner (director) Chasing Rainbows / 1930

 

Except for it’s special 1249 feet of 2-strip Technicolor footage for the big song and dance numbers by composer Milton Ager and lyricist Jack Yellen—footage that is now lost being only summarized in the black and white segments of the film still available—Chasing Rainbows  of 1930 had nothing special to offer its audiences. Headed by the mild-mannered and, as his cast members describe him, kind and respectful Jack Benny as the stage manager Eddie Rock, the characters of this traveling musical are basically a mean bunch of cynics, with a few notable exceptions.


     The poor tenor lead, Terry Fay (Charles King) keeps falling in love with the wrong women who lead him on and abuse him (he evidently has a rich father who controls New York theaters) before they leave, each time the romantic fool going into to a deep funk and threatening suicide. Early on in the film the wonderful Marie Dressler figure Bonnie comments “It’s his sixth threat of suicide this year!” His so-called “partner,” the loyal and indomitable Carlie Seymour (Bessie Love) with whom he first joined up to create an act which has brought them into theater, is called in to talk him out of his depression and get him on stage for the next matinee despite his suicidal threats.

    Carlie succeeds because, as she puts it, she completely knows him, and unbeknownst to this blockhead deeply loves him despite being forced to watch all the other women go in and out of his life. Despite the warnings of Bonnie and other cast members, she basically cleans up his room, dresses him, and wipes up his messes without so much of as flicker of sincere appreciation. It’s hard to like such a narcissistic clunk, and if, in the end, if we do give him some leeway it’s only because Carlie cares so much.

      But that’s just the trouble with this fairly whiny musical in which Fay keeps repeating his errors and following up with complaints, Bonnie constantly battles with the ridiculously clutzy prompt woman Polly (Polly Moran), and the sleazy Don Cordova (Eddie Phillips) stands in the background ready to join up with the insincere women who pretend to fall in love with Fay. As Eddie summarizes the situation as the company is about the break up at the end of their tour:

 

                       Just think of it, 42 weeks together and only one fight. It started

                       the opening night and it’s still on. You know this company should

                       never have had really had a stage manager. What they really needed

                       was a referee.


    Given the truth of his comments, it’s hard to like this hard-hearted Depression film, particularly when, after the former leading lady leaves Fay and the company, they hire on the gold-digging Daphne Wayne (Nita Martan) whose major talent seems to be insincerely batting her eyelashes at Fay and singing as if she were trying out for the role of Betty Boop. At one point when Fay, after momentarily paying attention to Carlie and actually inviting her out for dinner soon after, announces he just married Daphne, the devastated girl, always trying to take the punches as they come, begins to laugh with a sense of false hilarity that goes on so interminably long that we desperately wish someone like Dressler, who is the witness, would give her a good punch so that she might break out in the sobs she’s holding inside. At times like these, we truly wish the plot called for her to go home with Benny to his beloved mother and binge on the canned preserves he keeps gushing over.

     When a film scholar mentions this film in connection with LGBTQ moments such as Richard Barrios briefly does, it’s generally concerning the existence of Benny’s assistant Lester, performed by the great pansy actor George K. Authur—the burbling, snippy, “sissified and funny” Madame Irene of the 1926 musical—who here speaks his few lines as close to straight as was possible given his effeminate voice. In fact, one might not even notice him in this role were it not for the fact that after Benny has lectured “the quarrelling pair”—to steal the title of a miniature puppet play by writer Jane Bowles—about their unnecessary argumentation, Lester finds Bonnie and Polly both nearly passed out drunk hidden behind a standing rack of costumes, reporting it to his boss in near hysteria.


      We soon discover, mid-play, that the two women have spent most of their lives together, Polly having even worked hard for a year, as Bonnie fondly reminds her, to pay for the elder’s surgery years earlier. And we are forced quickly to conclude that these two women who previous to this have done nothing but insulted one another, are in actuality not only long-time friends but a lesbian couple, the reason perhaps for their constant arguing now made quite evident. Nothing more is particularly made of this discovery. Dresler merely attempts to administer a bromide to her completely drunken companion without being able to successfully open the bottle top. Declaring, “In five minutes, I'll have you as sober as I am,” Dressler nearly crashes to the floor before accidentally ripping the sink out of the wall in her attempt to snap off the cap of the precious liquid that might restore her friend to sobriety. It’s never explained how she’s able to perform her final number on stage, which we’re told by the film restoration’s credits was “My Dynamic Personality.”

      Apparently after Eddie announces to the audience that “Since the leading lady has broken her leg, we had to shoot her,” Carlie goes on in Daphne’s place, making a hit of the third act and finally getting her man to see her as the one he truly loves, the cast merrily intoning the musical’s major number, “Happy Days Are Here Again.” After his divorce, I presume, Terry and Carlie will live relatively happy forever. If nothing else, we’re happy that we’ve made it through this basically joyless movie to its end.

 

Los Angeles, August 27, 2021

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (August 2021).

 


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