Humphrey Gets a New Face

Vincent Parry (Humphrey Bogart) has escaped from San Quentin; he tries to hitch a ride, but the driver, Baker (Clifton Young) realizes Vincent is an escapee. Vincent knocks him out and abandons the car down the road. He finds Irene Jansen (Lauren Bacall) painting in the countryside. She knows who he is and offers to help him. Against his better judgement, Vincent accepts her assistance. This week, we're looking at Dark Passage (1947).

While Lady in the Lake is credited as the first film to use the subjective camera technique, Dark Passage, released the same year, takes the idea and uses it to better effect.  Not all of the film is subjective, and the motivation for not showing our protagonist becomes apparent when Vincent is taken to a plastic surgeon. Even when Vincent still has his original face (seen in a newspaper article - the photo is of actor Frank Wilcox), the film uses shadows to hide his face.  That we do eventually get to see Humphrey Bogart in the latter part of the film is a benefit to the audience; the first view of his expressive eyes (when he is bandaged following the surgery) is something we've all been waiting for. Regardless, Jack Warner was not amused that for 40 minutes, his expensive star's face was nowhere to be seen (Eddie Muller intro and extro).

Bogart and Lauren Bacall had been married for less than two years (TCM article); this was their third (of four) screen pairings. Howard Hawks, who had discovered her and nurtured her for the beginning of her career, had become disinterested in her once she became involved with Mr. Bogart. He sold her contract to Warner Brothers and Ms. Bacall found herself asked to work in parts that she found inappropriate - for the first five years of that contract, she was in five films - three of them with her husband (Los Angeles Times obituary). She's wonderful in this film, taking on an almost impossible part and making it believable - the unlikely premise of her willingness to take in a convicted murderer becomes quite acceptable in her able hands. And her growing love for her charge is reflected in her every movement. Yet, she still maintains a strength and sensibility that makes Irene memorable.   

The actress who walks away with the film is Agnes Moorehead (Madge Rapf).  William Hare said that in the role "the traditional femme fatale role was turned on its head...she is overbearing, domineering, and thoroughly ruthless" (Pulp Fiction to Film Noir: The Great Depression and the Development of a Genre) . She inserts herself into everyone's lives - her former fiance, Bob (Bruce Bennett); Irene, and, it turns out, the late Mrs. Parry. We dislike her from the minute she appears in Irene's apartment, but we can't take our eyes off her. 

There are a remarkable number of excellent character actors in the film: Tom D'Andrea (Sam the Cabby), like Ms. Bacall, adds to our trust of Vincent in his willing acceptance of the escapee's innocence. Sam's open and friendly personality is believable because of Mr. D'Andrea's performance. Similarly, Houseley Stevenson (Dr. Walter Coley) brings just the slightest bit of menace to his role as the plastic surgeon who helps Vincent alter his appearance - will he disfigure him? Turn him in? His performance dances on the head of a pin.  Finally, there is Clifton Young, who, from first glance is horrifyingly creepy. Baker is a heel of the first water, and Mr. Young plays him that way. We know he is going to be a key factor in Vincent's life, and Mr. Young does not disappoint.

If there is a weak link in the film, it's Bruce Bennett as the man romantically pursing Irene. Mr. Bennett, as we've mentioned before, is not a favorite actor. He's dull and fades immediately into the background. The plus to having him in the film is that one can imagine Madge bossing him around.  What you can't believe is that he would have the gumption to break up with her, or that Irene would have even the slightest interest in him.

Based on a novel by David Goodis; later, Mr. Goodis, and his the estate sued United Artists for copyright infringement - stating that The Fugitive was based on Dark Passage (Mr. Goodis' estate won the suit, but the monetary amount was minimal).  Like the novel, the film was set in San Francisco, and some scenes were shot on location (AFI catalog); the city and its hills are very important to the story.

Some reviews were indifferent - Bosley Crowther's New York Times review liked the scenery better than the story. He did have high praise for Agnes Moorehead who "is also quite electric in a couple of scenes as a meddlesome shrew."  Variety's, review, on the other hand, was more complimentary, saying that the "dialog frequently crackles."

We very much enjoyed the film, and recommend it highly. Here's a trailer for a taste of what's to come:

Classics for Comfort

2020 has been a year of interesting times, and in interesting times, we need comfort. What better comfort is there than a good movie?  So, from May 19-22, the Classic Movie Blog Association (CMBA) is hosting the Classics for Comfort Blogathon, in which we will all discuss those films that bring a smile to our lips or a song to our hearts.  In no particular order, I'm pleased to share with you five movies (and an honorable mention) that I turn to in times of trouble, stress, and/or sorrow that are comfort films for me.

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No comfort film list is complete without something from Ms. Hayley Mills. She is a delight - a wonderful actress with a list of excellent films to her credit. Adding just one to this list was a hard choice - in the running were Pollyanna (1960), which I discussed in a previous blogathon, Summer Magic (1963), and The Moon-Spinners (1964).  But, I ultimately opted to select The Parent Trap (1961), because there are TWO Hayleys to make me glad.  

Sharon McKendrick and Susan Evers live on opposite sides of the U.S. Sharon is in Boston with her mother; Susan lives in California on her father's ranch. They accidentally meet at summer camp, loathe each other at first sight, only to discover that they are "separated at birth" twins - when their parents divorced, each took one daughter, planning to never meet again. It was also decided by the parents that they would not tell their children of her sibling's existence.  Knowing it's the only way to get to know the other parent, the sisters decide to change places.  But when Susan discovers that father Mitch (Brian Keith) is about to marry the gold-digging Vicki Robinson (Joanna Barnes), the girls hatch a plan to get mother Margaret (Maureen O'Hara) back with her ex. 

This was Ms. Mills second film with Disney, and she shines in the dual role. She gives the two sisters distinct personalities. Even when dressed alike, you can tell them apart (amusingly, their parents can't).  Sure, the story is a fantasy, but who cares? The early rivalry episodes are full of tween deviltry and the latter partnership includes deviousness of quite a different ilk - you'll cheer when the twins set their sites on the obviously bad Vicki. And when Ms. Mills sings "Let's Get Together," a dare you to not groove to the music.

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We think of Edward G. Robinson (Martinius Jacobson) as a tough guy, but in Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945), he's the gentlest man you could ever meet. A loving husband to wife Bruna (Agnes Moorehead) and father to his daughter Selma (Margaret O'Brien), he works as a farmer in a small Wisconsin town.

In many respects, the film is a series of short stories, about Selma and her adventures (and arguments) with her younger cousin, Arnold (Jackie "Butch" Jenkins), about Martinius and his desire to build a new state-of-the-art barn, and about the budding romance between new teacher Viola Johnson (Frances Gifford) and newspaper editor Nels Halvorson (James Craig). The script hangs together beautifully, as the characters weave in and out of each others lives.

The beauty of the film hinges on the relationship between Ms. O'Brien and Mr. Robinson. There is a genuine tenderness between the two; adding Agnes Moorehead to the mix - an actress who, in my estimation, can do no wrong - only adds to the charm of the family connection. In one biography, Ms. O'Brien said she became very close to Mr. Robinson during filming (Margaret O'Brien: A Career Chronicle and Biography by Allen R. Ellenberger); this is certainly reflected on screen.

Yet the films avoids becoming schmaltzy. The town in which the Jacobson's live is not perfect. The town is poor; most of the young men are gone to the War; there is even a hint of child abuse. Ultimately, though, the film is about family and unity - the Jacobson's live in a community that comes together in crisis, even if it is only donating a calf to a cause.

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When times are bad, you need to laugh, and nothing will make you laugh more than Ball of Fire (1941). Gary Cooper (Bertram Potts) plays an English professor at work with six colleagues on a new encyclopedia. Professor Potts is horrified to discover that his understanding of slang is archaic. How can he write the needed article for the encyclopedia without further research? So he ventures out of the their cloister to learn the language of the day. On his journey, he meets Sugarpuss O'Shea (Barbara Stanwyck), a night club entertainer who knows just a bit too much about gangster boyfriend, Joe Lilac (Dana Andrews). Joe's solution - stash Sugarpuss with Bertram and his colleagues until Joe can marry her and keep her from testifying against him.

The combination of Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck is comic dynamite. She's forward and alluring; he's shy and retiring. But they spark on screen like nobody's business.  With her as the aggressor, Ms. Stanwyck is at her comic best - she needs him to become enamored of her, but there is danger in the air. She's never met anyone as gentle and considerate as him, and she finds herself falling for him (much to the consternation of Joe Lilac!)

There are so many wonderful scenes - Sugarpuss teaching the assembled professors the conga; Sugarpuss demonstrating the new slang to Bertram (in the form of yum-yum); Bertram learning to box. I could go on, but you get the idea.

We discussed this film at more length several years ago. But like so many of the great Ms. Stanwyck's films, it is a movie that cries for rewatching (and will have you in stitches throughout.

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Take two remarkable actors, add in some suspense,  sprinkle it with comedy, write dialog that sparkles and you've got Charade (1963). It's easily one of the most re-watchable and entertaining mystery stories around - even when you KNOW the ending, you really don't care. You want to watch the film again to meet with the charming, intelligent, and witty Regina Lampert (Audrey Hepburn) and the man of mystery Peter Joshua (Cary Grant). They are a combination to be imbibed regularly.

Regina is on vacation at a skiing resort in the French Alps with her best friend Sylvie Gaudel (Dominique Minot) when Sylvie's mischievous son Jean-Louis (Thomas Chelimsky) "introduces" her to Peter. He's intrigued, but she "already know an awful lot of people, so until one of them dies I couldn't possibly meet anyone else." Regina returns to her home in Paris, determined to divorce her always-absent husband Charles, only to find her apartment stripped bare and a message from the police. Charles is dead - murdered and thrown from a speeding train. The appearance of three threatening men, who demand to know the whereabouts of money Charles stole from them, add to Reggie's distress. And then there is the question - just WHO is Peter Joshua?

Cary Grant didn't want to do the film - he thought he was too old to be romantically involved with Audrey Hepburn, so the script was altered - she pursues him, and the effect is magic. After all, what woman wouldn't want to woo Cary Grant? Combine their interplay with an engaging story and you have a film to watch over and over. You'll laugh, you'll gasp, but you will never be bored.

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Sometimes, an inspirational film that brings tears to your eyes is just what you need when you feel blue. The true story of The Miracle Worker (1961) is one that does it for me. Based on the autobiography of Helen Keller (Patty Duke), a blind-deaf woman who lost both senses after a childhood illness, the movie introduces the uncontrollable child to Anne Sullivan (Anne Bancroft), herself almost blind, but as determined to teach Helen to communicate as Helen is to have her own way.

As a child, I was addicted to biographies of famous women. I think I read every one I could find in our local library. The woman that fascinated me most was Helen Keller. Her autobiography, The Story of My Life, was awe-inspiring. So too does this film bring a feeling of warmth and love that few movies are able to do. The strength of these two individuals, along with the unquestioning love of Helen's mother, Kate (Inga Swenson) make this a film of great passion.

Don't get me wrong - this is a film with humor as well, but I defy anyone to get to the end without a tear in their eyes. With Oscar-winning performances by Ms. Bancroft and Ms. Duke (both recreating their Broadway roles), The Miracle Worker is a film to lift your spirits.

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Honorable Mention:   No list of my comfort films is complete without a mention of one of my primary sources of comfort since childhood. Sure, including To Trap a Spy (1964), is a bit of a cheat. It’s a filmed version of two Man from U.N.C.L.E. episodes, but for me it's one of the places I go when I need to feel better.

It was love at first sight when I saw Robert Vaughn in an early episode of the show. My father took me to a double bill of this and another U.N.C.L.E spinoff movie The Spy with My Face (1965). To say I was in heaven is an understatement.  

The show ended up forming the basis of my first close friendship - one that abides to this day. When times are tough, when I’m sad or anxious, it’s Napoleon Solo who can make everything just a little bit better. (And it doesn't hurt to have Illya Kuryakin as well!)

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Don't forget to read some of the other blogs that are participating in the Classics for Comfort Blogathon. You're sure to find some other films that will brighten your days.

Rock is Obsessed

Robert Merrick (Rock Hudson) is afraid of nothing, and is constantly putting himself in jeopardy. When he finally manages to crack up his speedboat, his life is saved with the personal respirator of Dr. Wayne Phillips. But while Bob's life is being saved, Dr. Phillips suffers a heart attack, and there is no way to resuscitate him. Widow Helen (Jane Wyman) and daughter Joyce (Barbara Rush) are left to deal with the aftermath, with Helen forced to fend off the unwelcome attentions of the ever-on-the-prowl Bob. Our film for this week is Magnificent Obsession (1954).

If you don't like melodrama, you won't like this film. But, we do enjoy a good weeper and this is an excellent one. In his first major role, Rock Hudson is outstanding as the callow youth who needs a good kick to make him grow up (TCM article).  Early in the film, we are told that Bob attended medical school, only to drop out and assume the life of a dilettante in the wake of his father's sudden death.  We get no more information than that, but the way Mr. Hudson plays the scene speaks volumes about Bob's bitterness; a bitterness that resulted in his decision to devote his life to pleasure - something it seems his father never got to do. It is important that Mr. Hudson slowly grow his character, and he does so. With subtle allusions to the passing of time by director Douglas Sirk, we watch as Bob Merrick changes from a heel into an admirable human being.

Equally, Jane Wyman is terrific as a woman who loses her husband, only to find her entire life upended by the actions of one irresponsible human being.  Like Mr. Hudson, Ms. Wyman's character has to change, but the changes are more subtle. We need to understand why she is attracted to Bob Merrill (sure, she doesn't know who he is at first, but she is recently widowed, and was very much in love with her husband. Any new man should be a hard sell.). More importantly, we need to see her sacrifices as well thought out and not self-pitying. Ms. Wyman does that convincingly. Ms. Wyman was nominated for an Oscar for the part (losing to Grace Kelly in The Country Girl).

Agnes Moorehead (Nancy Ashford) is one of the great character actresses of her generation, and she gives a fine performance. Especially notable is her early scene with Rock Hudson, in which she lets him know that he is acting like a complete moron, but does it with professionalism.  Ms. Moorehead started her career in radio; her later involvement with Orson Welles Mercury Players led to her casting as Charles Foster Kane's mother in Citizen Kane (1940). She would go on to play nearly every kind of character - Humphrey Bogart's nemesis in Dark Passage (1947), Jane Wyman's rough-hewn Aunt Aggie in Johnny Belinda, Edward G. Robinson's loving wife in Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945), and the abused Madame Fosco in The Woman in White (1948). She did Broadway and regional theatre, but it was on television where she would finally make an indelible mark. A generation of viewers can't forget her memorable performance as a farm woman threatened by minature "Invaders" in The Twilight Zone. And then there is Endora on Bewitched. Take a look at her performance in the fourth episode of the series, "Mother, Meets What's His Name" When she asks Darrin (the ultimate idiot) "Why do you object to my daughter being herself?" you want to cheer. Her delivery is spot on (and you really want to shake Samantha for submitting to Darrin's domestic tyranny). Ms. Moorehead continued acting until her death of cancer in 1974 at the age of 73.

Also in the cast (and happily still with us) are Barbara Rush (who plays Joyce Phillips). Ms. Rush is 91. She was working until 2007, and since seems to have retired. Judy Nugent, who plays Helen's young friend, Judy, continued acting on film and television until 1978. Around the time she retired, she, husband Buck Taylor, and their three sons moved to Montana. They were divorced in 1983. In an interview for Western Clippings, Ms. Nugent stated this film was her favorite role.

Jane Wyman was not the first choice for Helen - Olivia de Havilland, Eleanor Parker, and Joan Crawford were considered for the part. Jeff Chandler was in the running for the role of Bob Merrick, and Charles Bickford was considered for the role of Edgar Randolph (the role would go to Otto Kruger). (AFI catalog)

The film is a remake of a 1935 film with Robert Taylor and Irene Dunne (which was aired on Lux Radio Theatre in April of 1937, starring the film's leads). The New York Times did an excellent DVD review of 1935 and 1954 versions when Criterion released them as a set.  The film was such a success that the cast we reunited in All That Heaven Allows the following year.

This is a film that becomes richer with each viewing, and we encourage you to give it a try. We'll leave you with a trailer:

Hayley Makes Me Glad

To celebrate National Classic Movie Day on May 16th, I'm going to break with our usual post, and contribute to the Classic Comfort Movie Blogathon, in which we'll discuss films that are sources of comfort when days are bleak. I'll be discussing Pollyanna (1960), starring Hayley Mills as the title character.

After the death of her missionary parents, Pollyanna Whittier is taken in by her Aunt Polly Harrington (Jane Wyman). Aunt Polly takes her position as the leading citizen of the town of Harrington seriously, much to the disgust of Mayor Karle Warren (Donald Crisp). The Mayor feels that Polly's domination of the town's affairs demean his role as a voted official, and eliminates citizen involvement in the workings of the town. Aunt Polly also has very decided opinions on her late sister's marriage to a man who she saw as beneath the Harrington family, and about the rearing of children. But she is not prepared for is Pollyanna, a little girl secure in her parents' love and accustomed to making lemonade out of lemons. Pollyanna brings with her a determination to be happy and to teach everyone around her "the glad game".

Over the years, the name Pollyanna has become an insult. Merriam Webster defines the word as "a person characterized by irrepressible optimism and a tendency to find good in everything".  Pollyanna has not had an easy life - her mother died when she was young, and she's recently lost her father. As missionaries, they were dirt poor, and couldn't even get their little daughter a doll. So, her father invented the glad game as a way to help his child appreciate what she had rather than bemoan what she lacked. Like all of us, Pollyanna gets angry, sad, and frustrated, but she tries to look for the good in people, for then (according to the medallion she has from her father), you will surely find it. 

Hayley Mills is perfect as Pollyanna; then again, I'm rather biased when it comes to Ms. Mills - I think everything she does is great. I recently had the opportunity to see her in an Off-Broadway play, and was thrilled (Party Face). She brings a sincerity to the character of Pollyanna. She's not perfect. She becomes furious at Mrs. Snow (Agnes Moorehead) whose obsession with death frustrates the child. She scolds Jimmy Bean (Kevin Corcoran) for his tree-climbing, but finally climbs trees herself. She loves her Aunt Polly, but lies about her maid Nancy's (Nancy Olson) relationship with George Dodds (James Drury). 

Several scenes have always stood out for me and cheer me when I'm down. After Pollyanna's encounter with Mr. Pendergast (Adolphe Menjou), she develops a fascination with the crystals that ornament his lamps - the rainbows they throw when held in the sunlight enchant her. So, in spite of his protestations, she begins hanging them from his window, to fill the house with rainbows - until finally he too is engrossed in the project. Another is her visit to the Reverend Paul Ford (Karl Malden), who has a fire and brimstone approach to religion (primarily at the urging of Aunt Polly). Though forbidden to talk about her father by Aunt Polly, Reverend Ford is intrigued by Reverend Whittier's beliefs, resulting in Rev. Ford's conversion to a more loving approach to God.

And of course, there is the relationship between Pollyanna and Aunt Polly - a woman who has rejected love (in for the form of Dr. Edmund Chilton, well played by Richard Egan), and is astonished by the instant love that Pollyanna lavishes on her. When Pollyanna runs to kiss her good night, Ms. Wyman's amazement sums up Aunt Polly in an instant. It's a marvelous moment.

Pollyanna's ability to try and see the glass as half-full is truly satisfying. She doesn't always succeed, but if she did, then she really would be the blissfully unaware creature of which she is frequently accused. But she's not. She's a wonderful, warm little girl who wants love (and a doll) and who has the magical ability to put a smile on your face. Don't believe me? Ask Tillie Lagerlof (Reta Shaw) or Angelica (Mary Grace Canfield). They will back me up! I'll leave you with one of my favorite scenes: Pollyanna discovers a rainbow:

Jane in Suburbia

All That Heaven Allows (1955) introduces us to Cary Scott (Jane Wyman), a widow with two grown children, Kay (Gloria Talbott) and Ned (William Reynolds). Cary essentially lives alone now - both children are away at school - and Cary is finding herself at loose ends. Unlike her best friend, Sara Warren (Agnes Moorehead), Cary is not a "club woman" and her days seem endless. So, when Sara has to renege on a luncheon date, Cary invites her gardener, Ron Kirby (Rock Hudson) in for a cup of coffee. Cary becomes fascinated with Ron's life goals - a life within nature, growing trees. Ron's invitation to visit his nursery leads to a relationship between the two, one that is ridiculed by Cary's supposed friends (represented by the vindictive Mona Plash (played with relish by Jacqueline de Wit)) and rejected by her appalled children.

Let's just get it out of the way -  All That Heaven Allows is a melodrama - but WHAT a melodrama! With excellent performances from the two leads, reunited after their successful teaming in Magnificent Obsession (1954) along with Agnes Moorehead and most of the production cast (AFI catalog), and with support from the likes of Virginia Grey (Alida Anderson), and Hayden Rorke (Dr. Dan Hennessy), the film goes beyond its melodramatic roots to something much grander. But what really elevates the film is the cinematography by Russell Metty and costume design by Rose Brandi. The film glows with color and texture - you can see every leaf on the trees and the colors are sumptuous. It is very much like watching an exquisite painting, but one with a story and acting that keeps you involved with the characters. The script is tight, providing just enough information about the characters to keep you involved, but avoids having backstory that overwhelms the movie.

Douglas Sirk, the film's director, is the architect. Sirk built on a novel by Edna and Harry Lee (see this TCM article for more on Sirk and the film's creation); it's a wonder that this film got past the censors, since it is really about sexuality. Oh, sure, there is only a hint that Cary and Ron are intimate, but the attitude of the Peyton Place-ish town and of the Scott children is all about the fact that Cary, an "older woman." She's actually only just 40 - we are told she married at 17, and her son is about 22 (Criterion Collection discussion of the film and Jane Wyman) and Ron is about 30. 

The film makes it clear that Cary is both attractive and interested in being sexually active. All of the reactions from family and supposed friends revolve around that point. Ned, for example, is offended by Cary's attractive evening gown (you can see it below) but is fine with the idea that she marry Harvey (Conrad Nagel), who has is interested only in a companionable marriage (translation - no sex). Kay is horrified at the thought of her mother marrying someone young and attractive, until she herself marries Freddie North (David Janssen), at which point she understand her mother's desires and acknowledges that her mother should follow her heart (and libido). The townspeople wink at Howard Hoffer's (Donald Curtis) womanizing, but start rumors that Cary and Ron were having an affair while Cary's husband was still living. It's a misogynistic, small-minded mess of an environment.

The middle-aged, upper middle-class, Anglo-Saxon Protestant gathering given by Sara (who really is the only person open to Cary's relationship with Ron) is juxtaposed against the party given by Mick (Charles Drake) and Alida Anderson. A mix of people of different ages and socioeconomic status, the Anderson party is the only place where Cary and Ron are totally welcomed and completely comfortable together. These are the people who abjure riches, and live with nature. Mick and Alida were from the social strata of the town, but Thoreau's Walden has become Mick's bible, and he now lives apart from society and the economic pressures of that life. It is a life that ultimately attracts Cary to Ron and the Andersons.

The chemistry between Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman, which was so apparent in Magnificent Obsession continues in this film. Though we are told there is an age gap (Ms. Wyman was actually about 8 years older than Mr. Hudson), it's really not all that noticeable - their relationship is so solid that they seem made for each other. It's a shame they never made any other films together.

Virginia Grey also stood out as Alida; we found her quite engaging as the woman who gives up the rat race for her husband.  Ms. Grey had a lengthy career - she started as a child in silent films (she played Little Eva in the 1927 Uncle Tom's Cabin). As an adult, she was a supporting player (as in this film) in A movies, and the lead in many B pictures. In the 1940s, after Carole Lombard's death, she began dating Clark Gable, but his sudden marriage to Lady Sylvia Ashley ended their relationship. After Robert Taylor's separation from Barbara Stanwyck, she also dated Mr. Taylor for a time (you can see a 1952 letter which he wrote to her here.  Ms. Grey would later relate that Ms. Stanwyck despised her because of the relationship). Ms. Grey never married (it's been surmised she never got over Clark Gable); she would work in films and television until 1976. She died in 2004 at the age of 87.

A note of interest - Gloria Talbott was not the first choice for the role of Kay. Producer Ross Hunter initially wanted to cast Jane Wyman's daughter, Maureen Reagan in the role, but finally decided she was too young (she was about 13 at the time).

The New York Times review was rather ho-hum (though reviewer Bosley Crowther really liked Jane Wyman).  For a more recent observation, take a look at this brief analysis (including many scenes from the film) by Richard Brody that appeared in The New Yorker. Another tribute came by way of the filmmaker Todd Haynes in Far From Heaven (2002), which he modeled, both in plot and cinematic style, after All That Heaven Allows. We'll leave you with the trailer from the film, and a recommendation that you give it a viewing.

Eleanor Meets Herself

The setting is a small English village in the 1850s.  A young man arrives by train late at night.  No transportation is available, so he walks to his new residence, Limmeridge House, where he will be working as an art instructor.   En route, he meets an odd young woman, dressed all in white, who disappears when a carriage approaches.  Thus begins the mystery that is The Woman in White (1948), based on the novel of the same name by Wilkie Collins.

As a huge fan of Wilkie Collins and of the novel, I have mixed feelings about this film, which changes so many aspects of the original story (later on, I'll detail some of those changes).  My colleagues were not familiar with the book, nor with the 1997 BBC production (which appeared on PBS); as a result of our discussion, one member is planning to read the book, the other to take a look at the more recent adaptation.  Since our discussion of the film did look at the book as well, readers should be warned that spoilers will be included.  I usually try to avoid them; in this case, it would be impossible.

By and large, the group felt that the movie was disjointed, and once information about the book was included, they all said they would have liked a film that more closely followed the novel.  However, the change in the character of Laura Fairlie (Eleanor Parker) from namby pamby to someone who actually has a backbone, was a vast improvement.  Wilkie Collins painted his main heroine as the helpless blonde female - she is gorgeous and gentle, and therefore does not have a brain in her head, or the ability to do much more than faint in the face of adversity.  Eleanor Parker does a good job of portraying Laura, and of showing her attempted resistance of the dastardly Count Fosco.  Her Anne Catherick is a bit more mannered, and resulted in a number of jokes about "identical cousins".  In the novel, Anne and Laura are probably half-sisters.

Both book and film give us a strong, capable Marian Halcombe (Alexis Smith), here described as Laura's cousin; in the novel they too are half-sisters (Mr Fairlie was a busy man!)  But Ms. Smith is a beautiful woman, and Marian really should not be.  Walter Hartright (Gig Young) describes her thus in the novel:

The lady is ugly. . . . [her] complexion was almost swarthy, and the dark down on her upper lip was almost a moustache. She had a large, firm, masculine mouth and jaw; prominent, piercing, resolute brown eyes; and thick, coal-black hair, growing unusually low down on her forehead.

The Woman in White, Project Gutenberg

However, Walter also says that Marian appears "bright, frank, and intelligent."  And while Ms. Smith certainly appears "bright, frank, and intelligent," she is NOT ugly.  So, it is no surprise that at the end of the film, Walter ends up with the lovely, smart Marian, while in the novel, he weds the gorgeous, vapid, helpless Laura.  Alexis. Smith is excellent in the role; she projects an intelligence and engagement that is essential for the role to be successful.

Sydney Greenstreet as Count Alesandro Fosco, stays very close to the character as written in the book.  He has the same rather overpowering charm, and the same sinister demeanor.  His sincere admiration for Marian is also retained.  We meet him almost immediately, and, of course, are immediately suspicious of his intentions.  In the novel, we are not introduced to the character until after the marriage of Laura and Sir Percival Glyde.  He is not married to Anne Catherick's mother (the Countess Fosco, as played by Agnes Moorehead), and it is Walter, not Marian, who forces him to confess his intentions. 

All of these changes, and others, serve to diminish some of the power of the book, and it is unfortunate.  The book is quite cinematic; like Dickens, his friend and sometime collaborator, Collins was a very visual writer, and his descriptions would lend themselves well to film.

We spoke at some length about Gig Young.  The actor had changed his name about 6 years prior to this film, from Byron Barr to Gig Young, adopting the name of his character in The Gay Sisters.  This is the second film he made after returning from WWII, where he served in the Coast Guard.  He had a long and very varied career.  He was a talented comedic actor (in films like That Touch of Mink and Teacher's Pet), and a powerful dramatic actor, finally winning an Oscar in 1969 for They Shoot Horses, Don't They?  His death, at his own hand, at the age of 65 (he also murdered his new wife) remains a mystery to this day.

We leave you with an early scene, in which we get to meet several of the main characters: