Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) Reviews

(OK) Undeserved popularity for a biopic, much less interesting than many other by Warners. But in purposedly made click with patriotic wave of that time; and Cagney was a self convinced Cohan tapping his way trhough family and enterprise...

Yankee Doodle Dandy is two solid hours of myth-making and grand entertainment, perhaps a little politically simplistic and overripe in its drama, but these things don’t take away any enjoyment for me. Everything – the politics, songs, performance modes – is old-fashioned, almost sweetly naïve, yet that is some of the magic and power of Yankee Doodle Dandy. It’ll make you believe in an America without limits, an America where the dreams are attainable, alive, and well.

 

Dubious as biography, it’s best to just view this as one of the more wildly entertaining films ever made, propelled by the energy of James Cagney. An odd choice for the role, despite having come up as a song-and-dance man in vaudeville, Cagney gives one of cinema’s grandest performances. Known primarily as the best of cinema’s gangsters, his work in Angels With Dirty Faces is still my personal favorite, Cagney is transformative here, tracing the braggart young pup to twinkly-eyed elder statesman with ease.

 

Not much of a dancer when compared to Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly, James Cagney still finds a way to make the athletic movements work for him. His upper half and lower seem to be moving in two distinct planes. His torso is ramrod straight, while his legs whirl and spin like the Road Runner in a Looney Tunes short. All of these eccentricities of movement, combined with his strong control of the dramatics and ease with the comedic bits, add up to a spark plug performance. Without Cagney’s for the ages work, Yankee Doodle Dandy may have fallen by the wayside of history, regulated to the same dump that other morale booster from WWII have found themselves thrown in.

 

Not just Cagney’s work keeps the movie ever moving. Director Michael Curtiz smartly keeps the connective tissue between musical sequences economical, moving quickly to explain what we need to know and interesting enough to keep our attention. Then he populated these scenes with some of the more dynamic and quirky character actors from Warner Brother’s contract players. Curtiz also manages to recreate some of George Cohan’s famous musical numbers with similar choreography, costumes, and scenery. These musical numbers are incredibly strong; rivaling anything MGM was producing around the same time for energy and dynamism.

 

Providing able support as Cohan’s family are Walter Huston as his father, Rosemary DeCamp as his mother, and Jeanne Cagney as his sister, she just so happened to be Cagney’s real-life sibling. Huston could make an entire meal out of any role, and he makes the mixture of personal pride and professional jealousy in Jerry Cohan feel lived in and authentic. DeCamp doesn’t get as much to play, but she’s warmly nurturing. Jeanne Cagney gets even less to do, but she’s a solid dancer and supporting player.

 

It wouldn’t be a showbiz biography without a central love story, and the romance here is sweet. Joan Leslie, so dewy and perky, must age her character believably from wide-eyed teenager into distinguished older age. She makes “The Warmest Baby in the Bunch” a flirtatious, winking number, and makes you laugh in a scene where she realizes a song originally written for her has been given to a bigger star.  

 

Many scenes and passages follow the routine laid out for these types of films, the off-screen deaths of family members, the on-screen death of Huston, who gets one hell of an exit line, a montage of marquees detailing the biggest hits, but it’s done with such energy and confidence that it doesn’t cloy. No, Yankee Doodle Dandy believes in the fantasies it’s selling about patriotism and creativity, about loyalty and family, and by the end you’ll want to believe as well. Perhaps by the time it’s over you’ll want to skip and leap in joyous abandon just like Cagney does down the White House steps.