When most film buffs discuss Hollywood classics from the 1930s, what types of movies do they mean? Westerns come to mind, as do musicals. Comedies, certainly. Less remarked upon are the dramas from the period. Many have not aged all that well — many of the important issues of the day don't translate to our time, and the storytelling can often come off as quaint. But there were a number of truly masterful dramas made by Hollywood studios in the 1930s, and one of the greatest was Leo McCarey's Make Way for Tomorrow. It's a film to treasure, and I honestly believe that if it was available on Region 1 DVD it would be considered one of the crowning classics of cinema.
In its premise alone, the film is as current now as it was then, telling the story of an elderly couple who are sent to live with their children and find that their lives don't fit with those of younger generations. To make matters worse, Barkley and Lucy Cooper (Victor Moore and Beulah Bondi) are forced to move into separate homes because none of their children has room to house them both. So while Barkley (better known as "Pa") lives with daughter Cora, Ma moves into the New York City apartment of eldest son George (Thomas Mitchell) and his wife Anita (Fay Bainter).
From the start, there are problems. Ma is treated coldly by teenage granddaughter Rhoda for moving into her bedroom. Rhoda's friends stop coming by the apartment after growing tired of Ma's stories. And George's housekeeper despairs of the longer hours she must now work because Ma prefers to stay home in the evening. All the while, George and Anita try to make it all work out, attempting to make Ma feel as comfortable as possible while trying to live their lives.
To bring in some extra money for the family, Anita teaches bridge classes in the evenings in the apartment. One night, Ma comes out of her bedroom to check out what's happening, and Anita introduces her to the class. After trying to socialize with some of the students, Ma decides to sit in her rocking chair. Unfortunately, the chair has a noticeable squeak, which is just loud enough to distract the class from their games.
From the description of the scene, one can probably imagine several ways in which it might play. It's easy to think of the same bit being played for laughs, and indeed many of director Leo McCarey's best-loved films, such as The Awful Truth and Duck Soup, are comedies. But McCarey is up to something different here. He makes the squeak just loud enough to be realistically distracting, and only keeps Bondi in the chair long enough for the scene to make its point.
Even more important, however, is how evenhanded the scene is. Most movies would concentrate solely on how Ma has intruded on the bridge class, but McCarey focuses just as much on Ma's feelings. After all, she's been enjoying quiet evenings in her rocking chair for years without any problems, and besides, would you want to be cooped up in your bedroom all night? In Make Way for Tomorrow, the new arrangement is hard on everyone, Ma most of all. At least everyone else is near the person they love most, but Ma has to make do with the occasional phone call. Little wonder that she only really enjoys herself in the film's final third, when she and her husband spend a day alone together in New York City.
A few weeks ago my grandfather passed away. As I grew up, I found I had less time to spend with him and my grandmother, and when I visited them it sometimes felt like an obligation. It wasn't as though I didn't love them, but they had their lives and I had mine, and as the years passed it felt more and more like we had little in common. I kept thinking about them when I watched Make Way for Tomorrow, not just my relationship with them when I was alive, but also my grandfather's passing and the difficulty my grandmother has had in adjusting to life without him.
There's a scene near the end of the film that takes place after Ma agrees to move into a "home for aged women," in which a mover comes to the apartment to take Ma's furniture and suitcases away. As he picks up her rocking chair, it starts squeaking again, but when he carries it out the front door, there's a bare spot where it once sat. It's the first time we've seen the apartment without the old chair, and the room looks empty without it. And I couldn't help but think that the death of my grandfather was a lot like that. Sure, our lives didn't always fit together, but my life feels much emptier without him in it.