Happy Independence Day! Sit back and watch The Man Who Owned Broadway hold FDR hostage for two hours while he divulges his entire life story because Mr. Roosevelt has nothing else important to focus his time on in the 1940s.
The good ‘ol US of A has a very complicated history, and continues to make baffling policy decisions (to put it lightly). There is no lack of amount of dissenting opinions or criticisms proudly proclaimed against our country, and waving an American flag is a great indicator someone may be a bigoted right-wing nut job. But back in 1942, when this film was released, we were at the height of pro-American propaganda. There was no lack of Government made pieces of media, but Hollywood chipped in with Casablanca, This is the Army, The Great Dictator, Buck Private… Shit, the fucking Looney Tunes were making fun of Hitler. We continue to make films about America’s Great War, because even though we killed over 100k Japanese civilians by bombing the shit out of them, entering the war is probably the last time anyone would admit America was “morally justified” in involving themselves in foreign conflicts.
When we entered Vietnam, and with our country’s atrocities now being filmed and broadcast across the world, positive public opinion started to plummet, never recovering to those WW2 levels. Even attempts at a pro-Vietnam war propaganda, like John Wayne’s The Green Berets, didn’t produce the patriotic fervor the United States government wanted. Right after 9/11 it came closer than it ever had, because there’s nothing like a terrorist attack on domestic soil to persuade citizens of a country to give up their basic rights to privacy and wear mass produced t-shirts made in overseas sweat shops proclaiming “Our Colors Don’t Run”. With the now 24-hour news media cycle and the amplification of all kinds of varying opinions, even during the Bush administration we could hear vocal outcry to their several war crimes. Sure, we’ll still have American Sniper, but nothing will ever come off as sincere and rousing as a bunch of mannequins waving an American flag back and forth on a Broadway stage.
Because boy howdy, this is excellently made propaganda. Yankee Doodle Dandy is a fictionalized retelling of real-life actor/dancer/singer/composer/producer George M. Cohan, an Irish-American who grew up on the stage with his family by his side. The film is a squishy-timeline’d recounting of his rise to fame and wealth based on his talent and drive to succeed. And the in the most American origin story of all, its genesis may have been a result of its lead actor’s desire to prove he wasn’t a commie.
George M. Cohan is played by James Cagney, typically known for his roles in gangster movies even though he loved to sing and dance (I am convinced Hugh Jackman is trying to mimic his career). The real life Mr. Cohan was annoyed by Cagney’s initial casting because he thought he was too pretty, leaning more toward someone like Fred Astaire, who is as goofy as he is good looking. Mr. Cohan was overruled, however, and by the time he viewed the film shortly before his death, he confessed he was a fool for his protests. James Cagney is lovely in this – he’s charismatic and funny, improvising many of the bits that had me laughing out loud. He also worked with Mr. Cohan on this movie, and the script went through a lot of rewrites based on his feedback.
We open the movie on an older George M. Cohan performing on stage as FDR in a musical titled “I’d Rather Be Right”. On opening night, after making out with his wife backstage in front of everybody, he receives a telegram from the White House from what George assumes is an annoyed Mr. Roosevelt. Only then does Mr. Cohan question whether or not its appropriate to impersonate a sitting president during an active war as he tucks his tail between his legs and takes the train to Washington.
Upon being greeted by a valet that remembers George’s first visit to the grounds 30 years ago, we’re treated to the mental image of that racist fucking asshole Teddy Roosevelt getting so jazzed up by Mr. Cohan’s rendition of “You’re a Grand Old Flag” that he would gleefully sing it in the bathtub. George is brought up to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s office where a very well-meaning actor gives a faceless performance that will later be dubbed over in post. The president praises Mr. Cohan’s patriotism, declaring, “That’s one thing I’ve always admired about you Irish-Americans. You carry your love of country like a flag, right out in the open.”
George informs the president that he inherited his nationalism from his father, who ran away to proudly fight in the civil war. Not to shit on my entire people, but I find it hard to believe that Irish-Americans were passionate about abolishing slavery for all people back in the 1860s. Mr. Cohan then takes this opportunity to kick-off the framing device by relaying his entire life story to a sitting president who clearly has nothing else to do.
Picture it: Providence, Rhode Island, 1878. It’s the Forth of July, and Jerry Cohan, dressed like a leprechaun and sporting the worst Irish accent that I’ve heard since I’ve tried to do one myself, is rushing off the stage and back to the house to meet his newborn son George Washington Michael Cohan. With a baby sister, Josie (played by Cagney’s real-life sister Jeanne), born several years later, the kids join the family business and the entire troop begin touring the vaudeville circuit as the aptly named 4 Cohans.
They’re making this poor kid play a violin on his head while tap dancing. Lindsey Sterling could never.
Also, 13 minutes in and we’ve already got our first blackface performance. Add it to the list.
After snagging his first lead role at thirteen chucking eggs and flour at adults on stage, little Georgie lets the fame immediately go to his head. He can’t help himself from mouthing off to Ed Albee, a theater owner who makes the mistake of offering The 4 Cohan’s third billing in his new show (even though it’ll double their salary) losing them the opportunity. His reformation comes shortly after he gets the shit kicked out of him by his father and a roaming gang of theater-going children because sometimes scrubs gotta get hit. The family then spends the next 10 years floundering around from city to city until George meets Mary, an “18-year-old” girl who visits him backstage to get advice on how to start in showbusiness. After fucking with her to test the waters on a potential grandfather fetish, he claims he can get her a gig with the show.
George rides his ego right into the next town, having his ingénue change her act last minute to a George M. Cohan original without informing the manager ahead of time. The manager is so incensed Mary replaced the (mysteriously now drunk) dog act with untested nonsense that he fires her, George, and George’s family.
“Drunk or sober, the dog act goes on in the next show,” might be my favorite line in all the 71 reviews I’ve written.
Black-balled and suddenly unemployed, Georgie teams up with Mary and starts shopping his material around to whatever producers will take a meeting. After several months of no dough (and with the goodwill of their landlord running thin), George pretends to sell one of his shows so his family will drop his toxic butt and tour without him to earn a bit of cash while “the show is in rehearsal”. After they leave, George continues to pedal hoping he will Secret a career into existence.
“Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American way…”
While working the circuit, George teams up with Sam H. Harris, a playwright that is having about as much luck with selling his content as Mr. Cohan is. They con an old man with his wife’s money burning a hole in his pocket to buy a show about some jockey named “Little Johnny Jones” that George wrote because he was short and he wanted to star in it.
The only reason I know this song is because of Steel Magnolias. I also had no idea those weird bottlecap costumes were a real thing; I thought it was something Mary Poppins made up.
TIL Mr. Jelly Legs here wrote “Give My Regards to Broadway” for this musical in 1904.
With the success of George’s Broadway show, he telegrams his family to join him back in New York so they can reestablish the act on a bigger stage. Gaining notoriety has also afforded him the opportunity to recruit big name stars like Fay Templeton, although she doesn’t seem very keen on the idea since Mr. Cohan is mostly known for showy displays of patriotism, which she hates for some reason. It isn’t until she hears him sing a repackaged “Give My Regards to Broadway” as a love song about living 45 minutes outside the city that piques her interest. The deal is well and truly sold after she hears “Mary”, a song he wrote for his sweetheart. When George comes home to his song’s namesake, he proposes marriage to take the edge off of some famous lady stealing her gig, and she accepts because her only role in this movie is to be as supportive of George as possible.
The proposal is genuinely adorable, though, as she tells him she loves looking after him, and he says he could cast her for that part for the rest of their lives. When she coyly asks to see some of the script they kiss, and then Cagney improvises the line, “Not bad for a first reading.”
Mary is an amalgamation of the real-life George Cohan’s two wives, and her song was originally written for one of Mr. Cohan’s daughters, of which none are mentioned in this movie. Mary’s inclusion was against the advisement of Mr. Cohan, who would have preferred neither of his wives were mentioned at all. The actress who plays her, Joan Leslie, turned 17-years-old on set. Like, I want to reiterate, she was a literal child, and they had to shut down filming early when she was involved because she legally couldn’t work at night.
Anyway, George M. Cohan goes peak Americana with his latest show “George Washington Jr.”, which features cameos from the boy scouts, veterans, African Americans singing in front of the Lincoln memorial, that fucking racist Teddy Roosevelt, and a seemingly infinite amount of American flags.
After his parents retire to run a farm and his sister gets married, he tries to go “legit” by writing a 3 act play with no songs that bombs. He doesn’t have enough time to process his failure before a torpedo sinks the Lusitania. George tries to tap dance his way into the army but they reject him for being too advanced in age at an ancient thirty-nine years old. Instead, they argue he is much more valuable writing catchy propaganda for the troops.
After the war ends, George continues to make bangers (like more than 40 of them, dude’s a workhorse). At that pace, it was common for him to have multiple shows running on Broadway at the same time. Sometime off-camera his mother and sister die, with his father following soon afterward. With his entire family gone, George processes his grief by quitting showbusiness and touring the world with Mary. He then takes an attempt at retirement on the farm until his old partner Sam calls asking him to come back for one. last. show. And take a guess who he wants George to play.
Now back at present day, we discover that FDR didn’t call up Mr. Cohan for some late-night pillow talk. He wanted to award George M. Cohan with the Congressional Medal of Congress “for his Contribution to the America Spirit”. Mr. Cohan is so touched by the gesture that he dances his way down the stairs, which is something Cagney improvised because he’s in the top 10 most charming men who have ever been born.
Here’s where I have the privilege of telling you that this is clearly not how the real George M. Cohan was awarded The Congressional Gold Medal of Honor for songwriting. While Cohan was a democrat and initially supportive of FDR, he did not approve of the president’s view on unions. Cohan was a staunch union buster (sad trombone), so he refused to pick up his award for 4 years in order to avoid meeting with the president with the hope that his term would run out. FDR eventually was like, ‘dude, come and get this thing it’s taking up space’, and Cohan begrudgingly accepted it in 1940 out of duty for his country. Apparently all was forgiven once Roosevelt hugged him, although I’m not sure it changed either of their opinions on labor laws.
It’s a shame I’m not a blind flag-waving patriot, because this film is delightful. It’s hard not to fall in love with the characters, and I genuinely laughed out loud in several parts at their dialogue. James Cagney can easily take credit for the majority of this – his improvised bits brought Mr. Cohan to life. I let out a surprised yelp when he took off his old man toupee, threw it on the ground and stomped on it – who thinks of that?? He even reprised this role several years later in The Seven Little Foys (Eddy Foy Jr. made a brief cameo in Yankee Doodle Dandy depicting his father). Like with Barbra Streisand and Fanny Brice, I’m sure going to have a hard time separating Cagney’s depiction of George M. Cohan from his real-life counterpart.
If you can stomach a film that whole heartedly celebrates this quagmire of a nation (and full transparency, I failed last year because I just had my reproductive rights snatched away from me and was exhausted from googling which doctors in my state would give a single woman with no kids a tubal ligation), it’s a pretty entertaining watch.
My mother thanks you, my father thanks you, my sister thanks you, and I assure you, I thank you for reading! If you’ve enjoyed this post, please consider helping me fund this project by donating to my ko-fi 🙂
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