Lionel Barrymore's triumph

Every time I watch this movie, I am even more impressed that there has never been a performance of a man's man on film, not just in his era but EVER, that clearly outclasses his in this work. Those that come to mind that most closely match it, but do not exceed it, are his own in Captains Courageous, Clark Gable's in Command Decision, and that of Gregory Peck in The Keys Of The Kingdom, The Yearling and Twelve O'Clock High.

Barrymore is unerring, with not a single less-than-perfect instant in the entire performance. The delivery of every single line is absolutely flawless, completely natural, and often with that special slightly unusual intonation and expression only he could summon up, that made several scenes absolutely goosebump inducing.

Never has a man's love for his boy, and its war with, and yes, reinforcement by his sense of duty to men in his care been as superbly represented. Just as in Captains Courageous, where Barrymore had a somewhat less central part, the acting of the boy is a superb complement; better than anyone could possibly expect.

From 1938 to the last, Barrymore was confined on film as in life to a wheelchair, occasionally standing with the aid of crutches. He was in pain from crippling arthritis and an injured hip.

If ever the Academy Awards completely missed the mark, it was when they failed to recognize this great man making the performance of an illustrious lifetime.