Carol Reed

Much respected author Graham Greene once wrote that “[if Reed] gets the right script, [he] will prove far more than efficient.” This proved to be a very accurate prediction as the young British director went on to make several successful and thrilling movies, even collaborating with Greene later in his career during the making of The Third Man. By this stage Greene had decided that he was “getting terribly bored with... everybody except Carol who gets nicer and nicer on acquaintance.”

In fact, it was perhaps his likeability and modesty that led him to work well as a member of a filmmaking team and, in-turn, made him into a skilled director. Along with Third Man, Reed oversaw films that ignited British public interest, and even more remarkable at the time, impressed American crowds too. Hits like Odd Man Out and Fallen Idol were road marks on his way to the top, and again in keeping with his modest personality, may be more renowned today for their actors than there director, who made sure to not hog the limelight like some of his more recognizable peers. James Mason in particular was impressive and his work with Reed made him a familiar face in 1940s and 50s Hollywood.
 

Reed’s modesty is very evident in Third Man as well, which is undoubtedly his biggest hit. Rather than Reed the overbearing director, other aspects of the film are most memorable. Not only Orson Welles’ wonderful cameo, but also, and perhaps even more so, war-torn Vienna. Rather than getting in the way, Reed worked to emphasize the fabulous chosen location.

Carol Reed is underrated director who films are far more renowned than their maker; but that is not because of his level of skill but his modesty, which nowadays is easy to appreciate.
 

James Cagney

Of all his movies, perhaps surprisingly, Cagney’s favorite was Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942). The urban-centric, rough-necked image portrayed in his gangster movies was in fact, unlike him. “Though I soon became typecast in Hollywood as a gangster and hoodlum, I was originally a dancer, an Irish hoofer, trained in vaudeville tap dance. I always leapt at the opportunity to dance in films later on.” He spent as much time as possible on his farm, away from the bright lights of Hollywood; someone more comfortable with a shovel in hand than a pistol. This, if anything, makes his convincing hoodlum manner all the more impressive.

Somewhat more bizarrely, he was only forced into doing the patriotic sing-a-long because of accusations made claiming he was a communist. The controversy caused him to do everything in his power to make a film that would convince people once and for all where his heart lay. This for Cagney was pure luck. He quickly shook the shackles of his stellar performance in The Public Enemy. After years of sharp shooting and hanging out with the filthy deadbeats of society, Cagney was in his element: singing and dancing.

He was always a pleasure to watch, an actor who used his most powerful tool, his eyes, to great effect. Not since Peter Lorre had an audience been so mesmerized. He had eyes that you would quickly glance away from on the street, if you ever had the misfortune of meeting them. However, as opposed to Lorre, the audience was not filled with fear or suspense; rather, they were excited. You knew whoever was in the lock of those eyes was surely doomed, and you waited eagerly for that boom-boom-bang. I always felt that Cagney was the kind of guy you would end up thanking for slapping you in the face, probably out of respect. He set the tone for Napoleonic angry men, who would resurface at various intervals in the timeline of cinema; famous examples being Al Pacino and Joe Pesci.