Dir. John Ford
92 Minutes
USA
1935
Starring: Edward G. Robinson, Jean Arthur, Arthur Hohl, James Donlan, Arthur Byron, Wallace Ford, Donald Meek, Edward Brophy
****/*****
On outward appearances, The Whole Town's Talking appears to be an outlier in Ford's filmography, especially during a quite prolific period for him (winning his first Oscar for The Informer this same year). Its material feels right at home for what Frank Capra was doing at the time, with elements of the gangster picture, screwball comedy romance, and a mixed double identity narrative making up co-writers Jo Swirling and Robert Riskin's screenplay. The film does not really have any logically apparent companion for Ford, something that has led many biographers and Ford-ites to suggest this as just a "throwaway picture" for the film maker (helped in no part by Ford's own dismissal of it years later as "fine--I never saw it"), with the closest being Ford's weak early-sound crime film Born Reckless at Fox. But if this were the case and Ford was simply a "director-for-hire" for the picture at Columbia, his lack of interest is not apparent on the screen instilling quite a bit of energy into the movie, and the observations and themes of masculinity that he would develop greatly over the next three decades are put to fantastic exploration here.
Arthur Ferguson Jones (Edward G. Robinson) is a milquetoast clerk at hardware firm of JG Carpenter, commended for never coming into work late for eight years (though also technically, and ironically, fired for being the "next person to walk into the office late"). Jonesy spends his evenings with literary aspirations, aching to write poetry that would get the attention of Miss Clark (Jean Arthur), a sassy colleague who upon opening that days newspaper sees an article about escaped convict 'Killer' Manion who happens to be the spitting image of Jonesy. After a mix-up that leads to Jonesy being arrested (an error that makes the news), the real 'Killer' Manion uses locals knowledge of their own "double" to his advantage, essentially holding Jonesy "hostage" while he carries out his plan to murder "Slugs" Martin, the guy who ratted him out.
All of this is greatly entertaining, and every time it appears the film would add one too many elements to go overboard it remains restrained in how "stuffed" it wanted to make this narrative. The film has a great deal of fun with Robinson's ubiquitous gangster persona, at that point essentially the type of material he would be typecast playing (though the Warner gangster cycle had effectively run its course leading Robinson to find other pastures for work), allowing him to play his usual menacing and powerful yin alongside his timid and meek yang. And Ford and cinematographer Joseph H. August have a great deal of fun with their split screen trick photography during scenes the two Robinson's share together. Side by side shots look seamless (a shot of Manion smoking on one side of the frame while the smoke hits Jonesy on the other side of the frame is nearly baffling), and the only real time the effect looks off is a moment where Jonesy is standing in front of an obvious screen where Manion sleeps in a bed.
Ford is able to explore themes of masculinity and performance within this "trifle", the entire film being built on the concept of emasculation and lack of agency in the systems in place in Depression era America. The film opens amidst a busy office building, rows and rows of anonymous clerks working away, Jonesy only singled out because of what he adds to company productivity and not because of anything inherent in his persona. On first being introduced to Jonesy, he is feminized: standing at his window to stretch, a bottle of milk sits in the foreground right in front of his waist, and he is the natural caregiver for his pets that he hastily feeds when he discovers he is late to work, a man totally at the whim of those for whom he provides. In many respects, this is Robinson's template for what Lang would explore with him years later in the noir genre for The Woman in the Window and Scarlet Street. Jonesy's life is surrounded by fantasy and imagination, a portrait of Miss Clark (that he stole, the first hints of his darker Manion side that may be brewing inside of him) hanging by his bed for inspiration. Even before the mix-up plot goes into effect, he has great fun "performing" as the killer in the mirror, changing his face into a snarl to mimic the image of the gangster on the front page of the newspaper. And it is only after the arrest that he is given the tools of masculine agency that allow him to fraternize with the men of power: whiskey and cigars, both of which Robinson has great fun with as he imbibes for the first time, continuing the suggestions that all Jonesy needs is something to let his guard down, as he drunkenly gives Miss Clark a kiss and downgrades Manion's threat. The film suggests that lower levels that must answer to the whims of the higher ones are essential castrated (with one suggestion being that Ford is responding subtly to the stronger enforcements of the Hayes Code). Masculinity is only defined by how high one can ascend and by how many "lower" entities they have answering to them (unless, of course, one is Miss Clark who has enough self-assurance and independence to not care about these systems). The higher one goes, the less they must be tethered to the imprisonment of the clock, though as public figures in the end both Jonesy and Miss Clark are confined to the locked frame of the photographs for which they pose.
Performances are uniformly terrific, with Robinson getting the lion's share of the fun by being able to play two opposite ends of this spectrum, and while it is often difficult for the other characters to know which one is Jonesy and which one is Manion, there is never any shadow of a doubt for the viewer, with Robinson oftentimes just adjusting a facial expression or gait as a tell for the viewer. Jean Arthur gets a supporting part that works as a great "dry run" for what she would be doing with Capra just the next year, always funny and delivering every line with massive snap and charisma. And side characters are plenty fun to watch, Ford regular Donald Meek getting some of the biggest laughs as a man who keeps collecting rewards for turning in Manion (or Jonesy) to the police. And Ford is clearly having fun with the material, with the first half hour (namely the arrest sequence before the physical introduction of the Killer) highly energetic and frantic with large swathes of police officers, newspaper reporters, and civilians talking over one another in the general chaos of the moment.
As this is primarily a comedy, the film ends on a happy note though not without some bloodshed, and Jonesy certainly is changed or, at the very least, more explicit about the more animalistic side of him (no more liquor needed to give Miss (?) Clark THAT kiss), and Ford resists fully moving into the "cuteness" that a lesser director may have given the moment. The Whole Town's Talking is a bit of a underrated gem in Ford's canon: a strong piece of work disguised as a minor one, and perhaps neglected due to its empty surface despite having much more going on throughout.
Viewed on August 11th, 2020
Part of an ongoing John Ford Project with notes from selected films.