There is an episode from The Simpsons called “Beyond Blunderdome” where Mel Gibson remakes the Frank Capra classic Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) that turns it into a violent bloodbath. While Gibson thinks that the film turned out great, a woman walks up to him and says that she’s the granddaughter of James Stewart and that he’ll be hearing from her lawyer.
Of course, this is a comical depiction of how films are adapted, but it’s one that I have trouble not thinking about when watching Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) for the first time. Like most people from my generation, the name Longfellow Deeds isn’t associated with the great Gary Cooper. I think of an Adam Sandler adaptation called Mr. Deeds (2002), which is in some ways more tonally similar to Capra than Gibson’s to Mr. Smith.
That doesn’t mean that I am not completely fascinated with the idea of what would happen if we transported Capra to 2002 and bought him a movie ticket. What would he think of this remake that at one point finds Sandler getting stabbed in the foot by John Turturro? In a lot of ways, it keeps some of the heart from the original, but director Steve Brill doesn’t have any of the sentimentality for the working class. He’s more interested in having Sandler sing David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” and fly a plane full of people out for fast food.
What would Capra say to Sandler as he walked through the hallway? Even if they are interpreting the same story, I get the sense that Capra would have heart palpitations as he sees what has become of his masterpiece. When he finds out that this is how a generation of kids in middle school remember this great story of social responsibility, he may flip. Then again, he’d probably die a second time if he ever saw what they did to It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) in Shrek Forever After (2010).
As much as I am a classic film fan, it was difficult to watch Mr. Deeds Goes to Town without thinking of the inferior remake. That’s just how being in middle school in the early 2000s is. Those dumb jokes that you’ve grown out of distract you even as you witness a story with far more substance. Film doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and unfortunately that comes with associations that you’d wish didn’t make you imagine a pole being crammed into Cooper’s foot.
There is a strong case to be made that Capra was one of our greatest AMERICAN directors. When I think of his films, I feel like I’m looking at a Norman Rockwell painting, where he’s working with the greatest actors of the 1930s and 40s to create these visions of everyday life. There is something endearing about seeing everyone dance in an empty house in You Can’t Take It With You (1938), or watch a man fight for justice in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. There’s so much that feels baked into the DNA of patriotism, of early 20th century America that seems wholesome but not entirely safe. People are still fighting to maintain order, and it’s why I’m such a sucker for that Capra-corn that was heavily maligned at the time.
I knew that Mr. Smith was originally conceived as a sequel to Mr. Deeds, but some legal loopholes kept it from being true. That may be why I mistakenly believed that James Stewart was in the Cooper role, which may have been way too on the nose. As the premiere good guy, Stewart would’ve been too perfect for Longfellow Deeds. He seems like the guy who would lay his coat out over a puddle to help you cross the street. He is a gentleman. I’m not saying that Cooper lacks this charm, but he seems more reserved.
That’s why I’m impressed with how purposeful his performance is. I don’t consider him to be a great comedic actor, and yet he manages to sell the leading man of this comedy very well. You believe that he is a homely man, putting the little guy in his town first. While I have trouble believing that he writes poetry, he still seems like the guy who would start a local business. He’s reserved, capable of observing a situation and finding smart solutions. He may not be how I picture Mr. Deeds, but that isn’t to say that Capra fails. If anything, his ability to capture the small-town pride, where everyone is clearly up in everyone’s business but they seem lovable anyways. Mr. Deeds is a local hero of Mandrake Falls who goes from humble wages to $20 million when a relative dies in a brutal car crash.
He gets escalated to the wealthy elite, living in a mansion that has, among other things, a banister that Mr. Deeds can’t help but ride down at every possible moment. There is something wonderful about the fantasy that he creates as a simpleton being introduced to the elite, where he has enough money to open doors that were once closed to him.
Considering that this was amid The Great Depression, who doesn’t love that fantasy? In a time where money was tight, Mr. Deeds exists as this recognizable figure who is one of us, going up to the elites in the “Literati” and discussing how phony he finds their behavior. No matter how much glamor is tossed on him, his ideals always feel focused on helping the common man. He doesn’t blow his money on needless frivolities, even as he encourages the wait staff to howl through the large, cavernous hallway of his mansion He doesn’t want to be seen as stuffy, and instead, he acts like he always has. He gets into fisticuffs if a man bothers him. He will bop you in the nose if you agitate him enough because that’s just who he is.
Mr. Deeds is a national celebrity now, the man that everybody envies. That includes being the center of attention regarding the media. While it’s not clear if Capra actually hates the newspaper industry, it’s clear that he hates this particular gossip rag. They will do anything to get a scoop, making up terms like “Cinderella Man” just to spin a tale of Deeds as this greedy man. It’s this sense that the wealthy want to see the lower class fail, and the constant undermining has informed the third act of the story very well. It’s not vindictive, but you could still imagine this story becoming cynical. If it starred Sean Penn, there’s a good chance that the newspaper staff would be in the hospital awaiting necessary rhinoplasty.
What elevates this story into something greater is that the romance isn’t just tacked-on nonsense of Deeds falling in love with a rich girl. Instead, it’s Babe Bennett (Jean Arthur), who works for the newspaper. She has her own crisis of confidence, deciding between love for this man’s genuine earnestness and her job. It’s rare that a film manages to find a love story this rich with double-crossing while seeming so endearing. You’re in awe of watching Babe play “Suwanee River” on a park bench while Deeds does air tuba (yes, he plays the tuba as a way of inspiring his non-existent poetry). There are these small moments of human connection that make you get a sense of the small-town charms without it falling into schmaltz.
To prove that it’s not just a case of us versus them, Capra goes so far as to put Deeds as the chairman of a company. He has a say in the financing of local institutions, such as the local opera. There is this conversation about what institutions matter to the common man, showing a divide between how the elite see money and how he does. It’s made clear early on that he’s wanting to get rid of his $20 million by donating to Mandrake Falls, but everyone tells him that he’s crazy. How could an act of generosity be seen as this crime against humanity?
That is the point of the film. It’s this divide between two social classes as presented in one man. I think there is something lost to future generations (and especially in the remake) about watching it and not seeing it as this Great Depression story. Much of Capra’s work around this time was informed by the financial struggles of his audience, at times living these fantasies of breaking out and having access to something as simple as a fancy dinner. Much like how Mr. Smith took on ethics in local politics on a federal level, Mr. Deeds is a story about whether money can buy happiness.
Considering that most of the people in the film aren’t exactly eccentric and brimming with life, it’s hard to say that’s true. The greatest joy in Deeds’ life comes from walking around with Babe, it’s in writing poetry for others and seeing his community become greater. The elites who live in the city are so full of themselves that they have no time for genuine laughter. Even the way that Deeds treats the wait staff shows how the rich repress everyone around them, forcing them to behave like them. Of course, the wait staff loves Deeds. He makes them feel like they have a purpose, something that keeps them alive.
If you must know why I call Capra the most American director, it’s because of reasons like this. He isn’t afraid of exploring themes that appeal to his viewers. While I don’t know what it was like to watch Mr. Deeds n 1936 in a theater, I do know that it has aged very well because this isn’t outright saying that money is evil. It’s more an exploration of how the distribution of wealth can better society. Deeds spends most of the film wandering around a city that has no desire but to tear him down, and he doesn’t want any of it.
Sure it’s conservative by today’s standards, but it reflects this class divide in ways that aren’t preachy. It’s all comical, reflective more in human emotions than more confrontational diatribes. You root for Deeds because he is familiar. He is the artist expressing his struggles. I guess that’s why they cast Cooper, who Tony Soprano would later call “The strong, silent type.” We think of him in High Noon (1952), standing up more directly against an enemy despite the fear of potential failure. You love him because of his bravery. That’s who we need in Mr. Deeds, sitting in a courtroom pointing out how much better the people of Mandrake Falls are because they’re “pixilated,” full of life and generosity. We need to be more like them.
So long as man has been alive, there have been these dreams of being wealthy and being able to do anything in the world. In the current moment, when the COVID-19 epidemic has caused millions to file for unemployment, this idea feels especially true. There is uncertainty if we’ll ever get out of these financial holes, but we still dream of having that power to stand up for ourselves and declare to the people who have the power that we need to invest in the people. Many have been doing that already, but it doesn’t mean that more can’t be done. Maybe our Mr. Deeds would look more like Sandler than Cooper, but having their heart in the right place is enough sometimes.
Capra maybe wouldn’t like the remake of his film, but I’m sure he would love seeing the generosity of mankind in the times to come when economic collapses cause us all to panic. While later films like It’s a Wonderful Life tackle this in more direct ways, Mr. Deeds is a reasonable fantasy that many of us dream about when entering the lottery. We dream of how money can better our lives, though Capra believes that we should go one step further. What if we used our influence to better the world? That’s why we love Mr. Deeds at the end. He thinks of us at his biggest moment of celebration, and we can’t help but hope people like him continue to exist in the real world.
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