The 75th Anniversary of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
Frank Capra always claimed that It's a Wonderful Life (1946) was the favorite of his movies; it's mine, too. But according to Joseph McBride, one of Capra's biographers, Capra eventually acknowledged that Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) is a better movie, saying, "It's a stronger story and a story about our government, a lot of the internal workings of our government are revealed. I suppose that's why I like it better than the other ones—it's big."
That's such an appropriate word for Mr. Smith, since so much of the movie deals with size and scale: from the towering, yet slender Jeff Smith (James Stewart), who stands tall against corruption and graft in Washington, to the elaborate recreations of the Lincoln Memorial and the U.S. Senate chamber; and from those to the figurative bigness of the movie's themes, like knowledge vs. ignorance, the definitions of masculinity and a great American, and the change that one person can inspire.
Mr. Smith is a tightly made, well-wrought movie, one that proves rich from a number of perspectives, like as an allegory against the rise of Fascism in Europe, much like The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) or Stagecoach (1939), or as a Christ narrative, with Paine, Smith's Judas, attempting suicide after betraying his friend, and the way that Smith's carried from the Senate floor like Christ (who defied his government) from the crucifix. (There's a great artistry to Capra's direction and storytelling, artistry's that's often overlooked. In fact, Matt Singer recently wrote an exemplary essay on Capra's mise-en-scène in Mr. Smith.)
other senator, Joseph Paine (Claude Rains), and their corrupt political boss, Jim Taylor (Edward Arnold), must appoint a new senator to both satisfy public demand and comply with the corrupt scheming of Taylor's political machine. Their solution: Jeff Smith, the naïve head of the Boy Rangers and all-around, old-fashioned patriot.
But when Smith realizes himself to be superfluous and without a political agenda, Paine suggests that Smith propose a bill, which Smith does, for a national boys camp. The bill, however, interferes with an about-to-pass deficiency bill, one full of graft. (In short, the government will build a dam on land owned by Taylor and his cohorts. Smith's camp will be located on that same land.)
When Smith finds out and threatens to expose the Taylor machine, Smith's framed and accused of corruption. The Senate turns their collective back on Smith, leading him to filibuster and stall the deficiency bill until the truth's revealed. (This final act of the movie—Smith's filibuster—is crucial to the movie's defining bigness: the moment that Jeff Smith stands tall and Jimmy Stewart became a star.)




In fact, among the classics of Hollywood's annus mirabilis, it took a movie as ostentatious as Gone with the Wind (1939)—a Technicolor prestige picture that cost more to produce and had a longer running time than any movie before it—to outshine Mr. Smith at the 12th Academy Awards. It's just that big of a movie.
But at 75 years old, has Mr. Smith slouched under the pressures of time and the weight of old age? After all, the story's quite simple: when a senator of an unnamed state dies, the state's governor, Hubert "Happy" Hopper (Guy Kibbee), the state's
The movie fared well critically upon release (proven with its 11 Oscar nominations), but it also created controversy. Does the movie promote American ideals, as Capra intended? After seeing the movie in 1939, Senator James F. Byrnes said, "here is a picture that is going to the country to tell people that 95 out of 96 senators are corrupt; that the federal, state, and municipal governments are corrupt; that one corrupt boss can control the press of a state; that the newspapers are corrupt; the radio corrupt; reporters are corrupt; that the trucks will intentionally run down boys in the streets."
In hindsight, that the politics of Mr. Smith (which was adapted by a Communist, Sidney Buchman) are ambiguous seems virtuous. Sure, there are touches of Capra-corn present, like the many children or Dmitri Tiomkin's score of all-American anthems, but the movie also marks a turning point in Capra's career, one's that more critical and cynical; even It's a Wonderful Life has Potterville. And in the end, while Smith reveals one instance of corruption in Washington, the movie concludes with a strong feeling of uncertainty, that many more cases continue to exist. And they still do, 75 years later, from Edward Snowden to the Koch brothers. Yes, Mr. Smith remains an unfortunately relevant, though undoubtedly big movie.
by Scotty Barnhart