IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE (1946) **** One of man's greatest accomplishments to throw against the seemingly hollow reverb of the cosmos. More a religious achievement than a film, or even art. How do you idealize, or even make interesting, a guy who's sold his own dreams, lives in daily abject frustration and professional cowering before morally inferior forces, and is in daily danger of being overwhelmed with regret? Jimmy Stewart gives his greatest performance, alternately saint-like and going down for the third time under demonic possession. Frank Capra shoots his face as big as the screen with pathos to make Hitchcock sick with jealousy. Same for Donna Reed (shot big, not jealous) who breaks the heaviest moment with her tres chic librarian ensemble: young bachelours, don't marry until you see her. Even way back then you had to have a greedy capitalist bastard to run a morality play properly-Wall Street must be filled with coroded souls who saw this film and envied Lionel Barrymore. Henry Travers, William Edmunds, the sound of the piano player in Nick's, Gloria Grahame, H. B. Warner, books have been written about everything that went right in this film but there's no way to do anything more than point in the general direction of the best parts. But is it real? Is that how it really works? I don't know, but if Philip Van Dorn Stren can come up with this, I'm willing to believe that God can come up with something even better.
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