MOVIE OF THE DAY: "WITH BYRD AT THE SOUTH POLE" (1930)

For all the complaining we Northeasterners engaged in during this winter's "bomb cyclone", it's good to remember that Adm. Richard Byrd and his band of jolly travelers experienced the same thing 90 years earlier, only for a year, with temperatures about 100 degrees colder. And, even worse, without cable TV, indoor heating, or online porn to pass the time. In fact, the most modern devices they had were two hand-cranked movie cameras -- and those belonged to Paramount Pictures. And union rules prevented anyone but two studio-supplied cameramen to touch them.

But that's the trade-off you needed to take 90 years ago in order to be the first person to fly over the South Pole, so no complaining allowed.

Anyone who watches PBS nature documentaries would do well to see With Byrd at the South Pole if they want to experience real danger without the benefits of 21st-century technology -- or, in fact, barely any from the 20th-century.

Quick: 1828 or 1928?

Starting off from New York on August 25, 1928 in a ship that

might have time-travelled from a century earlier, Byrd and his crew spent four months at sea before finally arriving at the South Pole, where they spent another four months setting up camp called Little America.

 

The luckier ones of the bunch then headed to New Zealand before coming back a year later to pick up whoever was alive. Choosing between guts & glory and rest & relaxation, I know where I'd fall.

"Oh boy -- more pemmican!"

With Byrd at the South Pole gives one much to be in awe of. I mean, I can't plan a meal a day in advance, and these guys have a year's supply of food -- mostly something called pemmican, a 1:1 combination of dried meat and fat that's been known to last a half-century, kind of like Twinkies. 

But they didn't leave their loved ones behind in order to eat petrified cattle. Nope, they're all there in order to support Adm. Byrd's zany dream of seeing the entire South Pole from an airplane. I'm not sure what they get out of it, other than a chance of being on camera for a few seconds.

As the crew brings the plane
on land, they suddenly realize
they forgot the wings.

And when I use the word "airplane", I'm not talking about those high-tech flying science labs they have now. Uh-uh. The two rickety wooden contraptions Byrd brings with him don't look like they could survive a strong breeze, let alone hurricane-force winds at the bottom of the world.

He is the walrus.

One of the planes, in fact, is destroyed by a blizzard during a scouting trip, leaving the crew alone for 11 days with a 7-day supply of food before help can arrive. Their only means of communication is a small telegraph machine. This is especially astonishing when you consider that this 19th-century technology can work across the South Pole, and my cell phone can't pick up a signal in the subway.

"King Haaken VII's Plateau" would be a cool name
for a band.

And forget about GPS. Byrd has to use devices like sextants, solar compasses (no magnetic North to operate the other kind), and maps. I mean, real maps -- made out of paper -- not the kind you find on your iPhone. Show-off.

The map, by the way, is filled with landmarks that would give the anti-imperialist crowd fits, since everything other than The Devil's Ballroom is named after foreign royalty. Like Queen Alexandria just once got her ass off the throne and on the South Pole.

Oh, that's why.

And did I tell you these nuts spend four straight months in total darkness before Byrd is able to fly over the Pole? And that their huts are windowless, hygenie is at a minimum, everybody smokes, so Little America must stink to high heaven? And it's always around 30 below zero. Somebody help me here -- why the hell is he doing this?

If he squeezes that wheel any harder, it'll break off.

Yes, Adm. Richard Byrd was a Hero of Heroes, and looks the part, too, being movie star-handsome in his spotless white uniform. But what's really refreshing is that Byrd, speaking directly to the camera in the movie's prologue, is nothing like today's overly-polished celebrities. His halting delivery, nervous throat-clearing, and stiff posture would never pass in today's demand for perfection.

In fact, Disneyland's animatronic Hall of Presidents are more flexible than Byrd is in front of a movie camera. Only when his jittery eyes glance at different areas of the audience -- remember, With Byrd at the South Pole originally ran in movie palaces, not living rooms -- do you realize that this guy is flesh and blood. A guy who's more at ease risking his life at the South Pole than delivering a two-minute speech? This is a real hero.

Hey penguin, leave the jokes to
the professionals, OK?

That prologue is the movie's only moment of onscreen synchronized sound-on-film speech. (Only when Byrd flies over the Pole does the gentle-as-a-dentist-drill narration by newsman Floyd Gibbons begin). Released a year after silent movies officially bit the dust, the rest of With Byrd at the South Pole features music (including the ubiquitous "Paramount on Parade" theme used in the studio's newsreels) and occasional sound effects (mostly airplane propellers). Subtitles describe the action -- and, unfortunately, give one or two moments of "funny" dialogue to penguins.

If you enlarge the photo, you'll see a news item under the
weather report about a stabbing on the East Side subway over
a perceived insult, proving that nothing  in New York ever changes.

And speaking of jokesters, the telegrapher receiving news from back home can't resist rubbing it in when it comes to reminding the others of their conditions. All you climate-change folks, take note: even in the 1920s, it got up to 96 degrees in New York during the summer.

Thanks for the laughs, Fido!

Too, there are plenty of sardonic "wah-wah" trumpets when baby seals fall into the freezing water or the explorers' dogs are outside in blizzards while the guys are safe and warm in their huts. Because dogs in blizzards are funny, right? 

A tragic case of Penguin Fever.

As with the freezing dog, another
hilarious moment.

Blizzards seem to be the only time the explorers are inside during the day. Otherwise, they're, well, exploring, building, and mushing -- and, by the looks of things, going crazy. Like doing a bizarre dance for a group of penguins, or forcibly holding down one of their comrades while shaving off his beard. Had this crew stayed there any longer, none of them would have made it back alive.

After what he went through, he deserved to cash in.

As it is, however, Byrd flies over the Pole, returning in one piece. Their rescue ship, covered in 200 tons of ice, returns for the four-month voyage back to New York and a hero's welcome.

With Byrd at the South Pole would go on to be a tremendous box office hit, and is still the only documentary to win the Academy Award for Best Cinematography. It remains a fascinating glimpse of a time when exploring meant cutting yourself off from the rest of the world for close to two years, with the risk of death always close by.

But never explained is how the hell did they go to the bathroom?

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