“We are living in an era where bad guys, the real-life kind, are running amuck.” That observation comes courtesy of “Breaking Bad” creator Vince Gilligan, who, at a recent industry event, urged his fellow screenwriters to reconsider valorizing “bad guys who make their own rules, bad guys who no matter what they tell you, are only out for themselves.”
His proposal: “I say we write more good guys.” Fictional villains may be more “fun and they’re easier to write well, but maybe we could use a few more George Baileys.”
Instead of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” Gilligan’s words made me think of a different, earlier collaboration between director Frank Capra and star James Stewart: 1939’s “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” With a screenplay from Sidney Buchman, it’s a political drama grappling with serious themes. It also makes room for comedy. That was always Capra’s way.
But more to the point, it’s a film about an underdog facing down a corrupt federal government hijacked by an unelected but extraordinarily rich man. Talk about timely.
When a U.S. senator dies, the governor of his state must name a replacement. The task is complicated by unscrupulous factors. The governor, and just about every other elected official, is beholden to a powerful tycoon who has a profitable (but phony!) scheme that needs federal approval, otherwise his backroom duplicity will be exposed. So the new senator needs to be a stooge who ensures the deal sails through.
But we can’t be too obvious about it, the governor says, otherwise this kind of thing could wreck my political future. To which the mogul offers back this blunt assessment: “Your political future? Why, I bought it for you and gave it to you as a present, and I can grab it back so fast it’ll make your head swim.”
Then an unlikely figure emerges. Instead of picking someone politically savvy, the governor appoints a scout leader named Jeff Smith (Stewart), whose job qualifications are his naïveté and inexperience. Both qualities suggest he’ll be easily manipulated by the senior senator from his home state, who ultimately becomes Smith’s saboteur and nemesis when the scales fall from the younger man’s eyes. Smith intends to go public about the graft he’s uncovered and, in response, he’s met with a full-blown publicity campaign of lies cooked up about him. His only recourse is an extended 25-hour filibuster in a desperate attempt to defend his integrity. The stakes are high. Everyone in the media, the Senate, even his constituents back home (supposedly) are against him. He talks himself hoarse during that filibuster, willing to push himself to extremes because the whole point is that corruption is a scam and it hurts people in very real, very concrete ways.
Smith is a nobody. He has so much to lose. And yet he puts everything on the line because what are we even doing here if he doesn’t?
This feels like the kind of storytelling we (and especially our elected officials) need right now. There’s value in seeing what it looks like when people speak truth to power and fight for what’s right, even when the odds are against them. Even in a fictional context. There’s value in putting these characters at the forefront. The movie is called “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” because it’s about him, not the all-powerful captain of industry who is ruining his life. Smith’s courage but also his sacrifices are given primary consideration.
The movie’s climax is perhaps its most dated aspect, hinging on the quaint idea that a feckless and bought-off politician can be effectively shamed. If only.
When the script was first submitted for approval under the guidelines known as the Hays Code, which studios followed censoring anything too risqué, the judgement was that the movie “might well be loaded with dynamite, both for the motion picture industry, and for the country at large.” The filmmakers were warned to make it clear that the “Senate is made up of a group of fine, upstanding citizens, who labor long and tirelessly for the best interests of the nation.” I paused for a long moment after reading that.
Plenty of elected officials were unhappy with the movie when it came out, going so far as to call it anti-American. Audiences felt otherwise. Not only was it the second highest-grossing film of 1939, it was the third highest-grossing film of the decade.
The term “Capra-esque” is sometimes used derisively. That should raise healthy suspicions. More than ever, we need studios to back filmmakers who believe that regular people, and their willingness to stand up for one another, isn’t just a corny narrative nuisance, but the key to the story itself.
Meanwhile, Hollywood has other things in mind. Netflix’s toothless, intellectually bankrupt “Zero Day” is what you get when screenwriters — and the executives to whom they answer — delude themselves into thinking empty platitudes will get the job done. HBO just announced that “Succession” creator Jesse Armstrong is putting the ultra-rich at the center of yet another story. The unnamed movie, of which he is both writer and director, films this spring. The logline: “A group of billionaire friends get together against the backdrop of a rolling international crisis.”
Hollywood has always been interested in stories about the wealthy and powerful. That’s fine. But there are other stories — about people trying to rebalance the scales — that are worth telling, as well. And they don’t have to be boring.
Let’s go back to Gilligan’s points. Gennifer Hutchison was a writer on “Breaking Bad” and she posted some thoughts that drill down even further: “Being good/a hero — and by that I mean, making the best choices one can to help others, do no harm and make
things better — is hard as hell in a world that is often cruel and rewards selfish behavior.”
I think that’s right. A “move fast and break things” philosophy has led us here because destruction is always easier. But the swagger associated with it is false.
“I see folks dismissing ‘heroes’ as boot-licking, prissy rule-followers, while characterizing ‘villains’ as the marginalized fighting oppressive systems,” Hutchins continued, “and it makes me so frustrated because flip that. It’s not simple. It shouldn’t be. When I say I love writing heroes, it’s because of all the complexity that springs from the simple, central idea that being a hero means helping make things better despite personal danger and loss, and being a villain is making things worse for selfish personal gains.
“If we’re talking about the societal influence of art, show the messiness of what it takes to make (things) better. What you have to break in order to do so and why that is just. Show the sacrifices.”
Capra wasn’t above skewering the rich for laughs, by the way. But that wasn’t his primary interest. His movies were popular, I’d wager, because they do exactly what Hutchison describes, challenging audiences to consider the blowback that comes with having a moral compass. And sticking to it anyway.
The post Column: In 1939, ‘Mr. Smith Goes to Washington’ took on a corrupt federal government. It wouldn’t have a chance today first appeared on Voxtrend News.
