There is a scene that comes toward the end of the 1930 film The Big House where a prison riot takes place. In this particular part, actor Robert Montgomery unleashes an immense, manic power that comes as such a powerful shock, especially from him. This scene sticks with you, and it remains one that I revisit frequently. Montgomery is one of my favorite actors, but past my own bias, he is one that warrants discussion for the unique nature of his career and his own approach toward it, something that is exemplified in this scene from The Big House.
Robert Montgomery is an actor whose career presents a near dichotomous break. There are his pre-code and more generally pre-World War II films where he was the perfect charming romantic lead in roles both comedic and dramatic. Then, there are the far fewer yet arguably more impactful films that come after Montgomery’s service in World War II. They present two clear, distinct, almost entirely separate bookends of his film career, yet there is a commonality that binds the two together. Montgomery, from very early on in his movie career, sought to push the bounds of his own image and what audiences expected from him. He becomes more emboldened in doing so after the war, but this pattern is apparent throughout his entire career and is one that commands respect.
Act I: In Front of the Camera
Montgomery’s film debut came in 1929’s So This Is College after signing his contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. The success of the film earned him attention as a newcomer and a steady stream of work to match his growing popularity. All of his first film roles were comedic, but as early as the next year, 1930, he was ready and eager to try his hand at more dramatic parts- enter The Big House. Montgomery actively campaigned for the role of Kent Marlowe in the face of MGM’s reluctance to put him in it, given the wild departure from the parts he had already proven successful at playing. Eventually, Montgomery succeeded and gave one of the best performances of his career. After this film, demand for Montgomery skyrocketed, and he became one of MGM’s biggest stars. He then became popular as a great dramatic actor alongside his comedic abilities, becoming the frequent costar of Norma Shearer and making a number of memorable films.
Montgomery would again campaign heavily for an unexpected role a few years later when he fought tooth and nail for the role of Danny, a psychopathic murderer in Night Must Fall. He firmly believed he could play the part and eventually won. Despite his own confidence, MGM executive Louis B. Mayer handed out pamphlets at premieres of the film, saying that he had no responsibility for how dark this film was and that it was purely experimental. He tried to convince Montgomery the role would ruin him, and hoped that a failure with fans would grant him some control over Montgomery’s headstrong pushing for better roles. Yet again, Montgomery defied expectations and gives perhaps the best, most nuanced performance of his career. It earned him a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Actor.
Intermission: Lt. Commander Robert Montgomery
Montgomery’s service provides the interlude between these two distinct acts of his career. He would go out on a high note, with another Best Actor nomination for Here Comes Mr. Jordan in 1941, before devoting himself fully to the war. In the late 1930s, before the United States officially entered World War II, Montgomery grew concerned about the situation in Europe and began speaking out and looking for ways to help, alongside his friend Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. and some others. During the Dunkirk evacuation, Montgomery drove ambulances in France.
In his autobiography The Salad Days, Douglas Fairbanks Jr. reflected on Montgomery’s service, saying that he went to France “in defiance of MGM’s order to stay put in California” and when he returned, the newly experienced Montgomery worked together with the eager Fairbanks to volunteer in the American forces, doing so with minimal publicity (366). After the United States officially entered the war, Montgomery enlisted in the Navy and, while serving as a lieutenant commander, participated in the invasion of Normandy on the USS Barton. These experiences would clearly influence his later work after returning to Hollywood in 1945.
Act II: Behind the Camera
As evidenced by his campaigning for unorthodox roles in his pre-war career, Montgomery was always willing and eager to push himself and expectations for him, but this desire for challenge grows more pronounced when examining his post-war work, most especially the three films that come directly after the war. They Were Expendable sees Montgomery star alongside John Wayne as members of a PT-boat crew in the Philippines, mimicking much of Montgomery’s own wartime experiences. He brings an authority to this role that can only come from having served and lived this role himself for four years prior to making this. It is this authority that begins to temper the way in which he presents himself on film. His reactions were always subtle, which gives him much of his charm in his pre-codes and other pre-war films, but he becomes much more introspective in these post-war roles.
Perhaps the most significant turn in Montgomery’s post-war career, though, comes from behind the camera, not in front of it. John Ford directed They Were Expendable, but Montgomery actually directed some sequences of the film in Ford’s absence when he took ill. This is the most telling development in the second half of Montgomery’s dichotomous career; of the nine films in which Montgomery appeared after 1945, he directed five of them in full. Past that, Montgomery becomes almost an auteur director, taking even greater risks behind the camera than he did in front of it.
Looking at his next film after They Were Expendable, the noir Lady in the Lake, Montgomery becomes an innovator. The entirety of the film is shot from the perspective of detective Phillip Marlowe, played by Montgomery. The leading man willingly made a movie in which the audience barely sees his face, and does so using a method that was incredibly innovative at the time. That lack of vanity and combined technical risk makes this film worth a watch, even if the plot is maybe not as engaging as it could be.
Also released in 1947, Montgomery’s third post-war film was Ride the Pink Horse, a noir in which he again both directed and starred. While it was not tremendously successful at the time, it has come to be something of a cult classic among noir and classic film fans, even earning its own release from the Criterion Collection, one of only two Montgomery films to earn that privilege and the only one he directed to do so. One critic who actually enjoyed the film at the time, Bosley Crowther of The New York Times¸ praised Montgomery’s direction and wrote:
Indeed, [Montgomery] has artfully fashioned a fascinating film within the genre. He has done something else exceptional; he has given the other actors a real chance.
That is perhaps the greatest legacy of Montgomery as a director: providing other actors the latitude to take the risks and push the bounds alongside him.
Montgomery, whose 116th birthday is celebrated on the 21st of this month, is a figure that demands respect when considering his filmography. Time and time again, he took his career into his own hands and pursued the challenges that he felt compelled to take on, fighting for those opportunities. Past that, he left the film industry to fight for his country, then returned to become an even more profound actor and an incredibly innovative director. In that way, Montgomery was truly a groundbreaker. He defied typecasting and pushed the boundaries of expectations that audiences held for him, thrilling them time and time again. Montgomery’s transformation from pre-code pretty boy to auteur director is one of the more fascinating and worthwhile in Hollywood history, and one that came about as a result of a deliberate pattern of Montgomery’s own desire to take risks and his fearlessness in the face of challenging or unexpected roles.
As always, I do not own any of these photos. Click on the photo to be directed to the original source.