[9]
Hollywood director John Sullivan (Joel McCrea), known for making profitable comedies with titles like Ants in Your Plants, decides what he really wants to do is make an all-important ‘message movie’ called O Brother Where Art Thou, but feels he needs experience the hardship of homelessness in order to do so. Much to the film studio’s chagrin, he embarks on an adventure without money or means, hopping trains and seeking the kindness of strangers. One such stranger turns out to be an actress (Veronica Lake) who offers him ham and eggs at a diner. Once she learns what he’s up to, she wants to join him on his tour of Great Depression-era poverty and homelessness. Once they reach rock-bottom, seeking food out of trash cans, they return to Hollywood and McCrea’s character prepares to begin work on the film inspired by his suffering.
But was it really suffering? The third act of Sullivan’s Travels takes a provocative u-turn when a homeless man knocks McCrea out and robs him, leaving his body on a train departing Hollywood. When he wakes up with amnesia, he slugs a man and ends up sentenced to a hard labor camp. While there, he learns what it truly means to suffer — and to have no escape from it. One of the only joyous moments he has while incarcerated is when a black church invites the convicts to join them for ‘movie night,’ where everyone laughs their way through a Mickey Mouse cartoon together. Once McCrea remembers who he is and learns the outside world believes he died, he confesses to murdering himself to get press. The studio swoops in to rescue him. But instead of wanting to proceed with his message movie, McCrea decides instead to make another irreverent comedy, having learned that people don’t need reminded of their suffering — they need relief from it.
Sullivan’s Travels is written and directed by Preston Sturges (The Lady Eve), who seems to be railing against Hollywood’s propensity to make self-important ‘message movies’ from time to time. While I adore this film, I’m not sure Sturges completely succeeds in this satirical approach, if only because Sullivan’s Travels ultimately becomes a message movie itself — one that, perhaps self-importantly, prescribes itself as the antidote to audience’s worries. But then again, maybe it is. Either way, it’s a breath of fresh air and a mightily entertaining film that mixes top-notch screwball comedy with slapstick and genuine heart. Veronica Lake is a sensation here, bringing a fresh, natural vitality to the film that makes you want to see more of her as soon as possible. Her chemistry with McCrea is so strong and compelling, that you miss her in the third act of the movie.
Sullivan’s Travels is one of the best films ever made about filmmaking and is a touchstone for many filmmakers working today. Steve Martin’s character in Lawrence Kasdan’s 1991 film Grand Canyon goes through a catharsis similar to McCrea’s and even mentions Sullivan’s Travels near the end of that film. More famously, the Coen Brothers paid homage by titling their 2000 comedic update of Homer’s Odyssey O Brother Where Art Thou.
With Robert Warwick as the studio executive LeBrand, who engages in the following, wonderful exchange of dialogue that I’ll never forget:
Sullivan: I want this picture to be a commentary on modern conditions. Stark realism. The problems that confront the average man!
LeBrand: But with a little sex.
Sullivan: A little, but I don’t wanna stress it. I want this picture to be a document. I wanna hold a mirror up to life. I want this to be a picture of dignity! A true canvas of the suffering of humanity!
LeBrand: But with a little sex in it.
Sullivan: [reluctantly] With a little sex in it.