Sullivan's Travels - Surprisingly Current

Recently I read an article on the best movies about movies. Being a lifelong fan and recent student of film, I had seen most of the titles on the list. There was one, however, that I had never even heard of--a 1941 black and white feature called Sullivan's Travels.

I watched a lot of great black and white movies growing up, so finding one I haven't seen is unusual. I quickly put it on my ever-growing and sometimes-shrinking list of movies to watch. Being a filmmaker myself, I particularly enjoy movies about the process or industry of movie-making. So the next time I had a couple of hours to spare, I watched it.

And it's good, guys. Really good.

One thing I found startling was how relevant it still is to the film industry, and by that I mean not just Hollywood itself, but all of us independent filmmakers who are trying to carve a niche into the film world with the little movies we make.

The film opens with a moving picture director (the titular Sullivan) arguing with two producers about a movie he wants to make. He insists on adapting a book called O Brother, Where Art Thou (one of many Coenesque moments of the film--I think the Coen Brothers must have been heavily influenced by this movie) because he wants to make a film that explores the plight of the poor, but the producers argue that he doesn't even know what it's like to be poor. He agrees with them and decides to go out into the world to discover what it's like.

I found this scene very interesting because I feel it is still an issue among filmmakers today. Filmmaking is a very expensive business, and even though the digital camera has helped immensely to democratize it, most of the people actively making movies either had family in the business or were wealthy enough to get a good start on their own. Because of that, the stories that we watch on the screen often have a very naive portrayal of what it means to be poor.

I myself come from a modest background, and it sometimes nettles me when filmmakers try to portray "the other side of the tracks" without even bothering to actually cross the tracks so they can present it realistically.

(Incidentally, this is one reason why I love Michel Gondry. He is one of very few directors out there who actually does cross the tracks and give a fair portrayal of low-income America--he doesn't gloss over the bad parts, but he doesn't paint a totally miserable picture either. He shows the joy that humans inevitably will find, no matter how bad their circumstances.)

So, back to Sullivan. He dresses up like a hobo and sets off for the real world. Almost immediately, he meets a girl down on her luck, disappointed by her crushed Hollywood dreams. In a story choice I really like, she buys him breakfast (because often you'll find that poor people share when they can, because they know what it's like to not be able to), eventually finds out who he is and what he's doing, and ultimately persuades him to take her with him on his quest.

Tragically, this scene also describes a current Hollywood reality: the exploitation of young and vulnerable would-be stars by powerful men who can make or break them. I sincerely hope that the recent scandals will be the beginning of the end of this corrupt Hollywood culture. And it's up to us indies to set a precedent of respect and integrity in our sphere of influence, no matter how small!

There is a very long montage showing Sullivan getting acquainted with the world of poverty. Then they return to Hollywood, where the producers intend to make a huge publicity story out of the experience. (I also find this very realistic. Often when filmmakers do actually cross the tracks, that's what the story ends up being about--how wonderful they were to associate with poor people, even though they were protected by a safety net of money the whole time anyway.)

However, just before the clean wrap-up, Sullivan, still in his hobo clothes and without any identification on him, gets arrested and sent to a labor camp. The safety net is gone, and he is all the way in, experiencing first-hand how differently he gets treated when no one "knows who he is." Name dropping does no good, and all his protesting and pleading are for nothing.

Then one night, the prisoners are invited to an African-American church to see a picture show. Here Sullivan watches poor people watching movies. And he is a poor person too. And as he watches as a poor person, he learns what kind of a director he wants to be, and what kind of movies he wants to make. It's a beautiful scene and you can watch it here:

Though the moral of the story could be criticized for being overly simplistic, I think that once again the filmmakers of today could take a hint from this scene. No, I don't believe that escapism is the answer to poverty and social injustice, but neither do I believe that mere bleak portrayals of misery are necessarily constructive. Movies don't have to be miserable to be profound. Movies should touch and awaken emotions deep inside us, and yes, that may be sadness, but it may also be joy.

I really hope you'll check out Sullivan's Travels. Aside from any lessons to be learned from it, it's just a really good movie too.