Satire loves politics (although the feeling may not be mutual), and one could even argue that the very purpose of satire from the start was to lampoon politicians, whether it be their exorbitant lifestyles, varying skills when it comes to governing, or simply the fact that it is a world filled with excess and debauchery, which extends as far back as the dawning of organized society as a whole. In this regard, politics can very easily be considered the favoured topic for many satirists, secondly only to other similar social issues that somehow all weave their way back to governance. Some of the greatest comedies ever made have been political satire, and it isn’t difficult to understand the appeal – politicians are easy targets, since it is very rare to make a mockery out of a political figure (especially those who did not lead particularly principled lives), since it’s rarely a case of punching downwards, which is always a concern with satires, since they need to tread a very careful line between pushing boundaries and outright offending a portion of the audience. We can find so many terrific political satires produced over the past few decades, but one of the finest is not discussed all that often, which is unfortunate considering it was truly prescient and remains an earnest and scathing depiction of political corruption, a subject that has unfortunately never gone out of style. The Great McGinty was the directorial debut of Preston Sturges (a director for whom I have never hidden my admiration), coming after a few years of screenwriting, rising to the ranks of being one of the most reliable writers working in Hollywood, even going so far as to be seen as an authorial voice in films where he was merely working on the screenplay. This film remains one of the most intriguing political satires of its era, a darkly comical and very funny deconstruction of government, carefully created by a director whose commitment to the material was all the more important to realizing this peculiar but captivating story.

The blind faith given to Sturges when he chose to helm his first film cannot be understated, especially considering this was a very different time in the industry, where writing and directing were kept mostly separate. Suddenly, there was an exciting young director with a precise vision and, most importantly, the ability to craft his own stories, not depending on teams of writers to put together a solid script. Sturges was a formidable force in the industry, so much to the point that it was apparently inevitable that he’d be directing his own films, and choosing this project as his debut was certainly very ambitious, considering the state of the country, and how political satires were not nearly as common at the time, at least not in as direct a form as this one. Most were thinly-veiled attempts to look beneath the surface of government, using allegory and allusion to tell these stories – and while Sturges was not afraid of working with metaphors, his interest was more in directly exploring certain themes, and even when this didn’t work out as well as initially imagined, it didn’t stop him from creating stories that have depth and meaning, almost to the point where they are uniformly well-constructed, effective pieces of cinema that manage to be both insightful and funny. Good satire is not always that which makes us laugh but also provokes enough thought to open our minds and introduce new ideas which we may have never even encountered before. This is the incredible impact of a film such as this, and the primary reason behind the resounding success was The Great McGinty, a film that proudly boasts about its clear intelligence and very intriguing manner of exploring certain ideas, which may not always be particularly resonant in the traditional sense, but has a lot of insights that were revolutionary at the time, which is quite an unexpected development for what appears to be a very simple comedy.

It is important to contextualize a film such as this, as it gives us a general idea of how certain themes are approached, reflecting many dominant mentalities at the time. Essentially, this is an exploration of political corruption taking place only a few years after the end of The Great Depression –  which is even a generous statement in itself, since the United States was still in economic recovery, and it stood on the precipice of the Second World War, which would only complicate the social, economic and political structure that existed around this time, but that’s another discussion not relevant to this film – and considering how much of this period was focused on showcasing the strength and resilience of politicians as leaders with the country’s interests at heart, to make a film about someone rising to an office of immense power seems like a very subversive decision, but its one that Sturges makes nonetheless, resulting in a film that is both complex and blisteringly funny, especially in comparison to how other filmmakers were approaching the difficult themes of political satire. This is not a film made in the shadow of the mighty courage and endless ethical virtue of Franklin D. Roosevelt and the other great politicians that truly had their people’s best interests at heart (or at least this is what their legacy would like us to believe), but rather a dark and more bleak depiction of how politics is essentially a game that combines luck, chance and the ability to cheat in ways that are not too obvious, but still very clearly defined. In this world, you have those who are honest and those who are successful – the methods to differentiate between them are not always clear, and the most moral and ethical people may actually be scoundrels, which is what this film is so intent on exploring, doing it with wit and elegance, the likes we have not seen all that often.

At the heart of The Great McGinty is a tremendous performance from Brian Donlevy, who was an actor who did exceptional work for decades, but rarely received the adoration and recognition he deserved, which is especially concerning when we consider how he is a blueprint for modern character actors, someone who could play a range of roles and dedicate himself to each one entirely. However, this is one of the few films in which he has not only a leading role, but he is the entire focus, the character through which almost the entire story is filtered. He’s terrific in the role, especially since it requires him to play a character who transitions from a crude, inelegant vagabond to a polished, intelligent politician, while retaining the same subtle vulgarity that is both entertaining and quite unsettling (especially if we contrast his character with many modern politicians, especially those that gained their power through the cult of personality). He’s a very interesting actor, and Sturges brings out many of his finest qualities over the course of this film, which acts as a thought-provoking manifesto on one man’s rise to power, as well as his eventual fall (after all, this was a film produced at a time when stories of villains were allowed, as long as they faced severe consequences rather than getting the happy ending they were seeking), as done through the lens of a rags-to-riches story, which is the primary method employed by the director in his continued search for a character that could not only represent the modern man’s ability to gain power, but also the volatility of such positions, and the consequences that come to those who use it incorrectly. Donlevy is excellent in the role, and is supported by a terrific cast consisting of Akim Tamiroff, Muriel Angelus and William Demarest, all of which fit perfectly into Sturges’ world and help considerably in developing these characters into very special individuals, each one detailed and compelling in their own way.

The act of praising Preston Sturges for being a revolutionary is almost redundant – his work has always been groundbreaking, even if looking at them from a modern perspective can make them seem somewhat tame. There’s very little reason to not view his work as anything but poignant and compelling, while still being extremely funny and ahead of their time. The latter is particularly important when looking at the cultural cache his films possessed – he joins a small handful of writers and directors that set the foundation for modern American humour when it comes to cinema. Prior to their work, comedy was driven by physical humour and sight gags (which is only logical considering the silent era directly predates this period), and now suddenly we were presented with hilarious and irreverent works that use dialogue and quick-witted humour to tell stories and draw out a range of compelling and intriguing subjects, which was the entire reason Sturges thrived as both a writer and a director, neither position one he took for granted. The Great McGinty is not his finest work – it is rough around the edges and has its flaws, but these are all proof of a director whose vision was strong enough to overcome such issues, and that everything he was doing was simply a work in progress. Even if we divorce the people behind the film from the final product, The Great McGinty is a remarkable and subversive piece of socially-charged cinema, a political satire that had a firm grasp on the cultural consciousness, going in search of new methods to tell such stories without being too heavy-handed, long before satire had reached as impressive a place as this. It’s a very funny and often quite provocative comedy that has a clear sense of direction and a very meaningful approach to its subject matter – and in both form and content, The Great McGinty is a terrific success, and a film that is far more interesting than its more subtle exterior may suggest.