YANKEE DOODLE DANDY
WARNER BROS., 1942 | BLACK AND WHITE, 126 MINUTES
DIRECTOR: MICHAEL CURTIZ PRODUCERS: JACK L. WARNER AND HAL B. WALLIS SCREENPLAY: ROBERT BUCKNER AND EDMUND JOSEPH SONGS: GEORGE M. COHAN CHOREOGRAPHERS: LEROY PRINZ AND SEYMOUR FELIX STARRING: JAMES CAGNEY (GEORGE M. COHAN), JOAN LESLIE (MARY), WALTER HUSTON (JERRY COHAN), RICHARD WHORF (SAM HARRIS), IRENE MANNING (FAY TEMPLETON), ROSEMARY DECAMP (NELLIE COHAN), JEANNE CAGNEY (JOSIE COHAN), GEORGE TOBIAS (DIETZ), FRANCES LANGFORD (NORA, SINGER), S. Z. SAKALL (SCHWAB)
Writer/actor/composer/showman George M. Cohan recalls his career, music, and patriotism.
Biographical stories”—it’s a kind of oxymoronic term—have long served as a pretext for musical movies. Few of them are terribly accurate, and although this one is no exception, it’s a winner. That is due largely to James Cagney’s sensational Oscar-winning portrayal of the multitalented George M. Cohan.
Cohan had been an American institution in the early years of the twentieth century, and became one again after his comeback in the Rodgers and Hart musical comedy I’d Rather Be Right. As war clouds began to gather, it was inevitable that there would be a film based on the life of the man who wrote “Over There,” “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” and “Give My Regards to Broadway.” Clearly, the Cohan brand of patriotism could rouse the country into coping with another world war, and he was perfectly happy to sell his life story and song catalog to Warner Bros. There was one daunting stipulation: nothing about his personal life would be allowed into the movie ostensibly depicting that life. Cohan the man was not nearly as ingratiating as his songs or professional persona and, dour control freak that he was, he stonewalled any attempt at a coherent biography. Finally, after months of wrangling with screenwriters, he agreed to a relatively accurate retelling of his career coupled with a fictitious version of his second marriage. (No mention of his first marriage, at all.) It looked dubious on paper, it played brilliantly on film, and it became Warner Bros.’ biggest success to date.
If Yankee Doodle Dandy is a fitting salute to the music (and perhaps the life) of George M. Cohan, it is also a tribute to its star, who inhabits the roles of the on- and offstage Cohan with hearty assurance. All the years of gangster stories, tough melodramas, and occasional comedies made it easy to forget that much of James Cagney’s early stage career was spent as a musical performer. His skill in song and dance was as idiosyncratic and magnetic as his acting talent, and he shrewdly modified his own dance ability to reflect Cohan’s own distinctive style.
“You’re a Grand Old Flag”: Jeanne Cagney, James Cagney, Joan Leslie, Walter Huston, Rosemary DeCamp
Under the leadership of that master-of-all-genres Michael Curtiz, there is such take-no-prisoners authority at work here that resistance seems completely unthinkable. If the plot scenes are not always as stirring as the musical numbers, Cagney makes them more convincing than anyone else could, and even ages believably. Cohan, who died a few months after this film was released, was happy with both the film and Cagney’s portrayal—even though he is reported to have commented wryly, after a screening, something on the order of “Nice story. Who was it about?”
The truth of the matter is that Yankee Doodle Dandy is as much a celebration of Cagney as it is of Cohan, which makes it a special pity that this masterful performer made so few musicals. He had already had a triumph in Footlight Parade (1933), and there would be three more later on; unfortunately, in the best of the trio (Love Me or Leave Me [1955]), his duties were strictly dramatic. This, then, is a special pinnacle for Cagney, one where his great gifts make the less appealing truth of the matter seem well and happily beside the point.
“The Yankee Doodle Boy”: James Cagney
WHAT’S MORE
Although Broadway was George M. Cohan’s normal habitat, he did appear in a few movies. Three were silent; another a drama, titled Gambling, that almost nobody saw; and the fifth was a musical, The Phantom President (1932). Cohan stars in a double role as a dull presidential candidate and the charismatic huckster who subs for him. It’s funny and fascinating, if not always completely successful. Rodgers and Hart wrote the songs, and in one number Cohan sings, dances, and shows pretty much exactly what he was like as a musical performer. Yes, he does dance something like Cagney. Or, rather, Cagney offers a loving reinterpretation of the original Cohan style.
Yankee Doodle Dandy is one of those films graced with a perfect final scene: as Cohan walks down the steps of the White House after meeting with President Roosevelt, he suddenly breaks into an ebullient tap dance. Like certain other prime movie moments, that dance was not in the original script. Cagney thought of it a few minutes before shooting started and, without checking with his director, just did it. Curtiz was delighted, just as everyone else has been ever since.
MUSICALLY SPEAKING
Most 1940s Hollywood musicals depicting scenes from Broadway shows are woefully inauthentic, most infamously the bogus Warner Bros. “biography” of Cole Porter, Night and Day. This, however, is something Yankee Doodle Dandy manages to get exactly right. The numbers for the Cohan shows seem pretty good in this regard, and the scene of Cohan in I’d Rather Be Right is lovingly accurate in darned near every way. When Cagney-playing-Cohan does the Rodgers/Hart “Off the Record,” it’s as close to the original show as anyone could possibly get, and a testament to the art of two great entertainers.
“Harrigan”: Joan Leslie and James Cagney
Richard Whorf, James Cagney, Irene Manning