Cavalcade (1933)
The Picture of the Generation... or, A Picture of A Generation
This is the story of a home and a family—history seen through the eyes of a wife and mother whose love tempers both fortune and disaster.
Cavalcade (1933) - watched 11/27/24
Director: Frank Lloyd
Writers: Reginald Berkeley & Sonya Levien
Starring: Diana Wynyard, Clive Brook, Una O’Connor, Irene Browne, Herbert Mundin, Frank Lawton, Merle Tottenham, Beryl Mercer
Available to watch on most platforms to rent or buy
First Time Watch? Yes
Is it safe out there yet? Are we being normal now?
In this insufferable social media age where everyone has the most ill-informed opinions about anything you could possibly imagine, the days, or even weeks, following the Oscars can be an especially insufferable time to be online. This year has been no exception. In case it’s not already painfully obvious, I love to follow the Oscars—I find the race to be thrilling, if at times confounding. I love seeing artists celebrating each other’s wins, I love watching someone who’s worked hard for their dream tearfully accept their profession’s highest honor. I love the gowns! I love the speeches! I love the occasional act of violence! I love the spectacle! But I’ve also learned over the years that, while an Oscar is an incredible achievement and can bring exposure and opportunity to filmmakers and actors who have worked hard to earn it, the Oscars are hardly meant to be taken seriously by us mere spectators.
I’ve been especially disheartened and annoyed to see so much discourse over the last couple of weeks since the 97th Academy Awards’ biggest upset—Mikey Madison’s Best Actress win for her performance in Anora over Demi Moore’s performance in The Substance. Despite my best efforts, I have subjected myself to some particularly heinous comment sections and have seen some wild and disturbing things said about both women. If it’s not some basement-dwelling chud saying that Mikey Madison’s performance was “no better than an OnlyFans video” then it’s some other basement-dwelling chud saying that Demi Moore has never been a good actress anyway. It’s almost as if these commenters completely missed the point of both films, if they even bothered to see them at all.
As someone who enjoyed both films, loved both performances for different reasons, and would have been plenty satisfied with either actress taking home the Oscar, it’s frustrating to see such vitriol in both directions from people who profess to be film fans. I love talking about movies. I love talking about the merits of one film over another, or one performance over another. And that’s the kind of discussion I seek—but it’s increasingly hard to find, even in spaces like Substack where I once thought the discussions were safer, or at least more nuanced and mature. It seems like everyone wants to approach these debates with their intensity levels already at an eleven. Do they talk this way about art in real life, I wonder? Because if I encountered someone in real life talking about movies the way that I see them talk about movies online, I’m afraid we’d have to reintroduce some form of mandated public humiliation for those losers. Like, I’m a prison abolitionist, but we could bring back the stocks, maybe? Restrain these weirdos and throw rotted vegetables at them? That seems fair.
My rallying cry as of late is to just be normal, and talk like a normal person, even about things you vehemently dislike. Maybe this goes against the very idea of criticism, but I’ve started the practice of saying that something is “not for me” instead of outright saying it’s bad—it’s not always easy, and I absolutely slip up from time to time, but I feel more grounded and at peace when I can simply ask myself Who the fuck am I to call this thing bad? and instead conclude that It’s not for me! Try it, it’s freeing. You don’t have to think about the thing you didn’t like anymore! You don’t have to talk about it with anyone! You can go about your day, doing and seeing the things that are for you!
We’re living in a time of extremes, and I’m not saying that we can’t have debates over the merits or the flaws of the art and media we consume, but can we just, like, be chill about it? The world is combative enough, do we really need to inject all this venom into the areas of our lives where we go to escape the doom and hellfire?
All that said, the film I’m about to get into, 1933’s Cavalcade, was bad not for me.
Time changes many things, but it can’t change old friends, can it?
The abbreviated version: Cavalcade is about a wealthy British family at the turn of the century, somehow directly involved in every major historical event of the time, in a saga spanning 33 years. A lot of people die. It’s the British Forrest Gump of the 1930s.
The long, boring version: It’s New Year’s Eve, 1899, and London high society couple Robert and Jane Marryot (Clive Brook and Diana Wynyard) toast to the new year, and the new century, with their young sons, Joey and Edward, and their servants, Alfred (Herbert Mundin) and Ellen (Una O’Connor). We learn that Robert and Alfred will both be departing the home the next day to fight in the Second Boer War in South Africa. Time passes with little news about how their husbands are faring in the war, but the men eventually return safely to their families. Upon his return, Alfred announces he is going to become the new owner of a pub that he purchased from a fellow soldier. The families celebrate the triumphant return of their men, but their jubilation is cut short by the announcement of Queen Victoria’s death.
We jump to 1908, where Jane and Edward visit Ellen and her daughter, Fanny, at the pub. In the time that has passed, Alfred has become a belligerent drunk, and his addiction is close to bringing ruin to the family and their business. Ellen, embarrassed by Alfred’s condition, tells Jane and Edward that he is injured and unable to join them. Alfred stumbles in drunk anyway, blowing her cover. Alfred is immediately hostile toward Jane, resentful of her family’s wealth, and he angrily destroys a doll that Jane has brought for Fanny. Fanny runs away, getting lost in a crowd of people dancing in the street. In one of a few genuinely moving scenes, Fanny dances among the merrymakers, while Alfred searches for her in the crowd. In the mayhem, Alfred is hit by a fire truck and killed.
The following year, Jane runs into Ellen and Fanny at the seaside. Fanny, even at her young age, has proven herself to be a talented dancer, having just won a dancing competition. Edward (John Warburton), meanwhile, has fallen in love with his childhood friend, Edith (Margaret Lindsay). They profess their love for each other that same day at the seaside, and the families all come together to witness Louis Blériot’s historic flight across the English Channel.
In 1912, Edward and Edith are on their honeymoon, cruising across the Atlantic. They’re in love, and happy, and cautiously hopeful for the future. They express their gratitude and love for one another, and things seem to be looking up for the family, finally. Right? Right? Well, no, because the cruise ship that Edward and Edith are on is the fucking Titanic, and they both die in the wreckage.
It’s 1914 now, and World War I is underway. Robert and Joey (Frank Lawton), much to Jane’s fear and agitation, are both shipped off to serve in the war. While on leave, Joey reconnects with Fanny (Ursula Jeans) after seeing her perform in a club. They begin an affair in secret, and years later, Joey proposes to Fanny, but she refuses, citing the disparity in their social statuses as a barrier. At the end of the war, Ellen confronts Jane, telling her all about Fanny and Joey’s affair, which she learned about after finding letters that the lovers had sent one another. Ellen demands that Joey marry Fanny once he returns from the war, but it’s too late—Jane receives a telegram informing her that Joey has died in battle. Jane, heartbroken and consumed by grief once again, faints as celebrations for the end of the war break out on the street below.
The story of the Marryots ends in 1933, on New Year’s Eve. Robert and Jane, now elderly, are seen carrying on their tradition of toasting the new year together. Robert, who seems immune to having feelings, is optimistic about the future, while Jane is steely and reserved, all too aware of the cruelties that life may bring. Still, she toasts to “the spirit of gallantry and courage that made a strange heaven out of an unbelievable hell.” Honestly, a banger of a line. As “Auld Lang Syne” plays in the street below, Jane and Robert embrace on their balcony, facing the future, because they have no other choice.
This is our moment: complete and heavenly. I'm not afraid of anything. This is our own, forever.
I get what this movie is trying to do. It’s really not that tough to “get.” And it honestly almost gets there. With a few tweaks, this is a story that could really mean something. And there was a lot that I liked about it—or maybe not “liked,” per se, but at least got some meaning out of. But ultimately I found it to be a film that’s trying to do too much, in a way that dulls its potential emotional impact.
First of all, I think it’s a huge misstep to follow the wealthy, upper crust of society Marryot family. The more compelling story here, for me, was the story of Ellen, Alfred, and Fanny. I wish we could have been following Fanny this whole time—what a journey she has! Born in poverty, growing up with an abusive alcoholic father who dies in a traumatic accent when she’s just a child. She finds comfort in the arts—in dancing and singing. And while we don’t see her go from rags to riches, necessarily, we do see her put in work and follow her passion. We could have seen her fall in love, and grapple with the complications of a mixed-class relationship. We then could have witnessed her heartbreak as the man she loves dies in a war, not only grieving her lost love but dealing with the regret of turning down his proposal. We see flashes of this, but since Fanny is treated as only a minor character, everything about her story is surface-level. But there’s so much potential depth to her character, I just want to scream WHO CARES every time something melodramatic happens to the Marryot family. I crave Fanny’s story! Justice for Fanny!!
It also felt, to me, that shoehorning all of these important historical events of the time into the Marryot’s narrative was an attempt at something clever, but it came off as trying too hard. The sinking of the TItanic was the moment this movie jumped the shark for me. As if the multiple wars this family fought weren’t enough? We had to have two major characters perish in the sinking of the Titanic? Really?
This movie is the equivalent of that one coworker you’ve probably had who just always has something going on. To the point where you’re either like “oh my god, again?” or you just start to assume that they’re lying all the time. Actually, it’s kind of fun to frame this film through Jane’s point of view, with the understanding that Jane is a dramatic, compulsive liar. What if Jane is actually just like that one former Grey’s Anatomy writer who lied about having cancer?
Honestly, kind of shocked that a terminal illness wasn’t also shoved somewhere into this story. They totally should have had someone die of consumption instead of dying in the sinking of the Titanic. It’s more credible, no?
One of the things I did enjoy, or at least found interesting, was the recurring motif of a celebration occurring in public while the Marryot family privately mourned their latest tragedy. This feeling of life going on around you while your own world seems to have come to an end is one of the more surreal experiences that we as humans will all eventually have to face. It’s not fair. It’s cruel. I’ve lost someone important to me—how could anyone be dancing in the street at a time like this? Don’t they understand? I’m not happy. How dare they parade their own joy in my face like this, blissfully unaware of what I’m going through, the darkness that consumes me. It’s one of the more poignant and less on-the-nose themes of the movie, which I appreciated.
While I didn’t love that we followed Jane throughout the whole story, I did appreciate that the film acknowledged how small and empty her life, ultimately, was, and that her status sought to keep it that way. Jane didn’t have anything in her life outside of her family. So when her husband is away at war, and her two sons are either away at school, or off to war themselves, and eventually killed, what does she have? She doesn’t even really have a social life, having alienated herself from people like Ellen due to their class status. Her only other friendship that we know of is with Margaret, and we don’t see these two women connecting in any kind of meaningful way, despite the fact that their children would eventually fall in love and then die together. Maybe the life of an upper-class woman in this time period isn’t the easiest to sympathize with—boo-hoo, poor little rich lady, am I right?—but there is something about a lonely woman with no support system and no apparent interests or interiority outside of her family that does, unfortunately, tug at the strings of my tender open heart. Maybe this is a good movie after all??
…Nah, we don’t have to go that far, it’s fine.
Needless to say, Cavalcade would not have been my pick for Best Picture back in 1933. It was actually a fairly solid year for Best Picture nominees, with Cavalcade being my lowest-rated of the ten nominees. If I had been a voting member of the Academy at the time, my vote would have been torn between I am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang and Little Women. Two very different vibes here, I know. Y’all just don’t even know the multitudes I contain!!
Let us drink to the spirit of gallantry and courage that made a strange heaven out of unbelievable Hell.
Quick Facts:
Nominated for 4 Academy Awards, won 3
Best Picture, won
Best Director, won (Frank Lloyd)
Best Art Direction, won (William S. Darling)
Best Actress (Diana Wynyard)
Diana Wynyard was the first British actress to be Oscar nominated in her category.
Reportedly one of Adolf Hitler’s favorite films—all the more reason to dislike it!
Stray Notes:
Love the type in the beginning. And the actual rolling credits!
“Enormous children” ???
It occurs to me that I know nothing about turn of the century England. Like I have no idea what war these people are even talking about.
“Isn’t it a wonderful sight?” - “I’m wondering how many of them will come back alive.” — Oof.
These people are all so “Indubitably” and “Mmyes… quite right.” Ugh!
This actress [Diana Wynyard] isn’t doing it for me. Lots of sappy overacting.
WTF is this… a musical?
I’m really starting to love Beryl Mercer. She’s been the best part of every movie I’ve seen her in so far. Wish she’d been given better roles.
The Bridges… look way too old to have a baby, I’m sorry
So many of these women look like birds! The feathery hats don’t help.
“Freedom isn’t for everybody.” Jesus christ, yikes.
Oh, Alfred fucking sucks!
Kind of wish little dancing Fanny was the character we were following through the years.
Oh, Alfred’s fucking dead!
“Look, big steamer!” lol
What is the point here?
The “Titanic” reveal is so funny. Like yes girl we know this is the Titanic that they’re on.
Somewhere, during this scene, Jack & Rose are fucking
“We could never in our whole lives be happier than we are now.” Well… technically that’s true!
“Light of my life, shut up” got a lil chuckle out of me, I’ll give ‘em that
So did they… die? Or what?
God these people are gross.
Okay, finally confirmation that Edward & Edith died
Joey is annoying as hell
“My world isn’t very big.” THERE WE GO!!
Yay, more Fanny!
Joey, you fucking creep!
Ew, I hope this doesn’t turn into a Fanny/Joey love story. She deserves better!
They gonna die now too??
This war montage is an overstimulating nightmare. Guess that’s the point. Kind of the most interesting/compelling part of the movie so far.
These relationships aren’t fleshed out enough, or even getting enough screen time, for me to care much about them. How am I supposed to feel some type of way about these tragic ends if I don’t even get a chance to connect with these characters and their relationships?
Handing a heavily injured soldier on a stretcher a cigarette is both hilarious & badass & only a little sad
Little moments like that throughout are cool, but there aren’t enough of them & it doesn’t make up for the lackluster story
Why’s everyone in this movie gotta die?? Granted, I’m not exactly sad to see Joey go, but still…
It feels almost like a whole new movie started at the end?
They did a good job of aging the actors up, I’ll give them credit for that. It’s too bad the makeup category hadn’t been introduced yet.
UGGGGH, wrap it UP!!
Oh cool, another insane montage to drag out the ending.
Blah.
My Rating: ⭐️⭐
Next Up: The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934)