It's best to think of this as a Great Depression story, when it was probably conceived. Barbara Stanwyck is a reporter who tries to keep her job by concocting a letter from a nonexistent "John Doe" who is mad as hell and is not going to take it anymore. So he's going to jump off a skyscraper at midnight on Christmas Eve. When the letter is published, the public reacts with excitement. They vow support for the phantom Doe. Stanwyck's editor, James Gleason, decides that the newspaper and its owner, Edward Arnold, should go with the flow and hire some bum off the street to play John Doe.
They pick the friendly, innocent Gary Cooper, ex-minor-league baseball pitcher, accompanied by his equally crummy buddy, Walter Brennan. These two hobos are raggedy and hungry, the kind of people who at the time were called "bindle stiffs." The "bindle" was the bundle of personal effects they carried over their shoulders. A "stiff" was a person of no importance. You can still hear the word in the expression "working stiff." Where was I? These damned voices keep distracting me. Oh, yes.
So Cooper is hired to act as John Doe. After Christmas Eve, when he has his phony date with the angels, he is to be given a railroad ticket straight out of town and disappear.
Surprisingly, though, his radio speech turns the audience on. They love it. They form multitudes of John Doe Clubs all around the world. The John Doe philosophy? Nothing dangerous, don't worry. "Let's be kind to our neighbors." "Let's break down the walls separating all of us John Does."
The villainous Edward Arnold, the paper's owner, gets an idea. As the John Doe Clubs spring up all over, he sees their members not as airheaded do-gooders but as voters. This leads to a bright idea. In his next radio speech, John Doe will announce that Edward Arnold is forming a third party and running for president. All those John Does out there will vote for him -- "that's ninety percent of the vote."
And Arnold's philosophy is a little different from that of Cooper and Stanwyck, who has been writing his speeches. "Everybody's complaining," Arnold tells his cohort of corrupt goons, gangsters, politicians, and labor leaders. "What this country needs is a firm hand, some discipline." Does Arnold's scheme work? Of course it does. That's why he was elected president in 1944 and switched our allegiance to Nazi Germany and we lost the war and were occupied by the UN.
Well, the fact is that Arnold may be evil but these targets are pretty soft ones. The film is so stripped of real-life counterparts that it almost amounts to a fantasy. The private police force that Arnold has at his disposal are all dressed as State Police but their shoulder patches read "Norton Motorcycle Squad." Something else about Arnold. He probably gives the best performance in the movie. It's really quite subtle. He has to activate several latent roles -- loudmouthed dictator, thoughtful schemer, avuncular con man, and repentant fomenter of discord.
He's followed closely by Barbara Stanwyck, in one of her fine performances of the period, and by Cooper himself, who must look simultaneously stupid but sensitive. Cooper has a priceless moment near the beginning as he is shown to a fancy hotel room and allowed to order five hamburgers from room service. With a wide smile he hangs up the phone, then notices the statue of a bouquet-holding nude woman on the stand. His expression changes instantly to an exopthalmic gawk. Capra and the editor give him a full half minute to stare at it, touch it tentatively, and gulp, before Stanwyck's voice comes from behind him and he jumps. It's a small moment but an exquisitely comic one.
This was the last of three films that Frank Capra directed before entering the Army for World War II -- the others being "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" and "Mr. Deeds Goes to Town." All have in common an innocent young hero who runs into greed and corruption and through strength of will manages to overcome his adversaries. Capra was an apolitical populist and humanist, and there's a good deal of corniness in these movies, but that doesn't stop them from being successful. "John Doe", unlike the others, becomes almost tragic before the improbable end. After his war service, Capra directed one more wildly successful film, "It's a Wonderful Life," perhaps the best modern Christmas story, but it too had its moments of genuine anguish.
They pick the friendly, innocent Gary Cooper, ex-minor-league baseball pitcher, accompanied by his equally crummy buddy, Walter Brennan. These two hobos are raggedy and hungry, the kind of people who at the time were called "bindle stiffs." The "bindle" was the bundle of personal effects they carried over their shoulders. A "stiff" was a person of no importance. You can still hear the word in the expression "working stiff." Where was I? These damned voices keep distracting me. Oh, yes.
So Cooper is hired to act as John Doe. After Christmas Eve, when he has his phony date with the angels, he is to be given a railroad ticket straight out of town and disappear.
Surprisingly, though, his radio speech turns the audience on. They love it. They form multitudes of John Doe Clubs all around the world. The John Doe philosophy? Nothing dangerous, don't worry. "Let's be kind to our neighbors." "Let's break down the walls separating all of us John Does."
The villainous Edward Arnold, the paper's owner, gets an idea. As the John Doe Clubs spring up all over, he sees their members not as airheaded do-gooders but as voters. This leads to a bright idea. In his next radio speech, John Doe will announce that Edward Arnold is forming a third party and running for president. All those John Does out there will vote for him -- "that's ninety percent of the vote."
And Arnold's philosophy is a little different from that of Cooper and Stanwyck, who has been writing his speeches. "Everybody's complaining," Arnold tells his cohort of corrupt goons, gangsters, politicians, and labor leaders. "What this country needs is a firm hand, some discipline." Does Arnold's scheme work? Of course it does. That's why he was elected president in 1944 and switched our allegiance to Nazi Germany and we lost the war and were occupied by the UN.
Well, the fact is that Arnold may be evil but these targets are pretty soft ones. The film is so stripped of real-life counterparts that it almost amounts to a fantasy. The private police force that Arnold has at his disposal are all dressed as State Police but their shoulder patches read "Norton Motorcycle Squad." Something else about Arnold. He probably gives the best performance in the movie. It's really quite subtle. He has to activate several latent roles -- loudmouthed dictator, thoughtful schemer, avuncular con man, and repentant fomenter of discord.
He's followed closely by Barbara Stanwyck, in one of her fine performances of the period, and by Cooper himself, who must look simultaneously stupid but sensitive. Cooper has a priceless moment near the beginning as he is shown to a fancy hotel room and allowed to order five hamburgers from room service. With a wide smile he hangs up the phone, then notices the statue of a bouquet-holding nude woman on the stand. His expression changes instantly to an exopthalmic gawk. Capra and the editor give him a full half minute to stare at it, touch it tentatively, and gulp, before Stanwyck's voice comes from behind him and he jumps. It's a small moment but an exquisitely comic one.
This was the last of three films that Frank Capra directed before entering the Army for World War II -- the others being "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" and "Mr. Deeds Goes to Town." All have in common an innocent young hero who runs into greed and corruption and through strength of will manages to overcome his adversaries. Capra was an apolitical populist and humanist, and there's a good deal of corniness in these movies, but that doesn't stop them from being successful. "John Doe", unlike the others, becomes almost tragic before the improbable end. After his war service, Capra directed one more wildly successful film, "It's a Wonderful Life," perhaps the best modern Christmas story, but it too had its moments of genuine anguish.