Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957)

Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957)

“I never even lived before. Not really lived before, inside.”

Synopsis:
During World War II, a Marine (Robert Mitchum) drifts ashore onto a seemingly deserted South Pacific island, where he encounters its lone inhabitant: a stranded nun (Deborah Kerr). As they struggle to survive and devise a plan for escape, they develop a deep fondness for one another — but will Mitchum respect Kerr’s spiritual vows?

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Deborah Kerr Films
  • John Huston Films
  • Nuns
  • Robert Mitchum Films
  • Romance
  • Soldiers
  • Survival
  • World War II

Review:
The first of Deborah Kerr and Robert Mitchum’s on-screen pairings (in 1960, they also co-starred in both The Sundowners and The Grass is Greener) was this unusual “romance” about a Marine and a nun bonding during a time of crisis. Such a scenario (ripe for exploitation, which co-writer/director John Huston masterfully avoids) could easily go in any number of different directions — but what’s so refreshing about this story is its ultimate simplicity. It’s essentially a character-driven relationship piece, set within the chaotic arena of war; other than a few minutes showing a pair of Japanese soldiers interacting with one another (their dialogue isn’t translated), and a couple of solitary lines by soldiers much later in the film, Mitchum and Kerr remain the sole speaking actors in the movie — thus, it’s the evolution of their interactions, coupled with their struggle to survive a seemingly impossible situation, that keeps us glued to the screen.

Mitchum reportedly named this a personal favorite among the many roles he played, and his character here comes across as remarkably sympathetic. We ache for this rough-hewn man — an orphan who found a home with the Marines — as he opens up his heart for the first time to Kerr’s impossibly kind nun. Kerr’s character is a bit more enigmatic (I believe we’re meant to relate to Mitchum as the central protagonist, rather then Kerr), but she does a fine job exhibiting both her enduring spiritual resolve and her growing fondness for Mitchum. Much like in The Nun’s Story (1959) with Audrey Hepburn, we wonder what kind of a decision this beautiful, strong-willed young nun will ultimately make in the face of competing desires.

Note: I’m not especially fond of this film’s title, which makes it sound like a comedy rather than the somewhat serious drama it really is. I understand its deeper meaning (“heaven”, or God, will know what transpires between the nun and Mitchum, even in their seeming isolation), but one can’t help immediately “reading” the title as a whimsical British turn of phrase instead.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Robert Mitchum as Corporal Allison
  • Deborah Kerr as Sister Angela (a.k.a. “Ma’am”) (nominated by Peary as one of the Best Actresses of the Year in his Alternate Oscars)
  • Excellent use of a natural island setting
  • A fine, unconventional “love” story

Must See?
Yes, as an enjoyably character-driven film by a master director. Listed as a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Good Show
  • Important Director

Links:

Big Beat, The (1958)

Big Beat, The (1958)

“The public is a monster with a very delicate palate. If it doesn’t like what you feed it — off comes the arm!”

Synopsis:
The son (William Reynolds) of a “square” music producer (Bill Goodwin) tries to sign on some hot rock ‘n roll bands, with the help of his beautiful secretary (Andra Martin); meanwhile, a popular singer (Gogi Grant) desperate for a life of domesticity tries everything she can to convince her boyfriend (Jeffrey Stone), also a music producer, to marry her.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Generation Gap
  • Musicals
  • Rock ‘n Roll

Review:
Peary is clearly a no-holds-barred fan of ’50s rock music, given how many obscure titles in this “genre” he lists in his book (presumably because of the time-capsule glimpse they afford of various performers in their prime). The Peary-reviewed titles Rock, Rock, Rock! and Rock Around the Clock were released in 1956, but by the time 1958 rolled around, apparently such films had already become ripe for unintentional satirizing, with Peary himself labeling this one a “Camp Classic”. While both the former titles had reasonably interesting and/or legitimate narratives stringing the musical numbers along, the storyline here is laughable in both its simplicity and its datedness. Reynolds’ attempt to convince his father (and the rest of the world) that rock ‘n roll is where it’s at passes muster, sort of; however, the insipid subplot about erstwhile musical phenomenon Gogi Grant’s desperate desire to leave behind her successful career for marriage with the extraordinarily pillish Stone is simply infuriating — especially given that just about every other character in the film (except Stone himself) seems onboard with the idea: “Now listen — you take her to dinner and either get her a recording contract or her name on a marriage license!”

Meanwhile, what may draw curious modern-day film fanatics in to this film is the VERY odd casting of Hans Conried and Rose Marie in supporting roles; they perform one number together during a party scene that really will have you scratching your head as you wonder how in the world it possibly fits into the rest of the proceedings. (Conried turns out to play a pivotal role in the film’s denouement, so I guess that justifies his presence at least…). Otherwise, it’s clearly the “legitimate” musical acts that were meant to draw audiences at the time into the theater — but there are pathetically few on display; the best (by Fats Domino and the Mills Brothers) are over within the first 15 minutes of the film. Chances are you’ll find yourself hard-pressed to care about much of anything that happens thereafter in this clunker.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • A couple of enjoyable rock ‘n roll ditties (but not nearly enough)

  • The truly surreal musical sequence with Rose Marie and Hans Conried — wtf?

Must See?
No; don’t bother seeking this one out. Listed as a Camp Classic in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Miracle Worker, The (1962)

Miracle Worker, The (1962)

“It has a name; the name stands for the thing.”

Synopsis:
A young girl (Patty Duke) who became deaf and blind during her infancy is coddled by her well-meaning parents (Victor Jory and Inga Swenson), who are unable to discipline her. When a headstrong teacher named Anne Sullivan (Anne Bancroft) comes to work with Helen (Duke) and teach her language, she finds herself facing an uphill battle.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Anne Bancroft Films
  • Arthur Penn Films
  • Blindness
  • Character Arc
  • Deafness
  • Historical Drama
  • Play Adaptation
  • Strong Females
  • Teachers

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary notes that while “Arthur Penn’s direction of William Gibson’s screen adaptation of his play is a bit stagy”, the film itself is nonetheless “still powerful” — indeed, I found it utterly gripping from start to finish. In his review, Peary argues that this movie “should be more significant to feminist film criticism”, given that it’s ultimately about “one female helping another female” to “rip free from society’s constraints”. Bancroft’s portrayal of Anne Sullivan as a “strong, independent-minded woman” who “refus[es] to be handicapped by her sex”, and “who strives to reach her potential in her profession”, is especially astonishing considering the time period and location in which the story takes place (postbellum Alabama). Her willingness to consistently and relentlessly stand up for what she believes in, even at risk of losing her job, is nothing short of revolutionary; we can’t help but “respect the mettle, the pugnacity, the grit, and the guts of [her] determined character” (as Peary writes in his Alternate Oscars book).

Speaking of Oscars, Bancroft — reprising her role on Broadway — deservedly won one for her work here, and Peary acknowledges the wisdom of this choice in Alternate Oscars, where he similarly offers Bancroft the award. He confesses to liking “Bancroft’s slight smiles, [the] hints that [her] Annie knows she has a touch of madness”, which is “fine with her because, as she tells the Kellers, the madness is part of the strength she developed while growing up in an asylum”; indeed “only a slightly mad woman would speak to her employers as bluntly as she does” (and my, how refreshing this is to witness!). Just as exceptional as Bancroft’s performance, however, is that given by Patty Duke (also reprising her Broadway role), playing Helen Keller with “amazing intelligence and strength”. Duke and Bancroft are remarkably physical and impassioned in their interactions with one another; one feels exhausted simply watching them on-screen, let alone imagining the fortitude it took to execute their “long and complexly choreographed” “knock-about battles”. Peary accurately likens their work to the “skill of great silent comediennes doing wild, intricate slapstick” — though the mood in this case is usually anything but humorous.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Anne Bancroft as Annie Sullivan
  • Patty Duke as Helen Keller
  • Many powerful, memorable scenes
  • Strong direction by Penn
  • Fine supporting performances by Jory, Swenson, and Andrew Prine as Keller’s family members

Must See?
Yes, as a powerfully acted, Oscar-winning classic.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director
  • Noteworthy Performance(s)
  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

Links:

Magnificent Obsession (1935)

Magnificent Obsession (1935)

“He’s dead, I’m alive — we’re both out of luck.”

Synopsis:
A wealthy playboy (Robert Taylor) pursues the beautiful widow (Irene Dunne) of a beloved doctor, accidentally prompting an accident that causes her to lose her sight. He conceals his identity and befriends her as she adapts to a world of blindness; soon the two fall in love.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Blindness
  • Character Arc
  • Doctors and Nurses
  • Irene Dunne Films
  • Robert Taylor Films
  • Romance
  • Widows and Widowers

Review:
Primarily remembered today as the original version of Douglas Sirk’s 1954 Technicolor remake, this romantic melodrama is notable as the film which gave matinee idol Robert Taylor his breakthrough role — and it’s easy to see why audiences went gaga over him. Tall, charismatic, and impossibly handsome (his nickname was “The Man with the Perfect Profile”), he nicely handles his character’s transformation from reckless playboy to chastened suitor (and eventually to mature doctor).

The “spiritual” element of his transformation — made much more overt in Sirk’s version — is toned down here; indeed, director John Stahl exercises admirable restraint with the undeniably melodramatic material, doing his best to make the storyline feel relatively believable. (With that said, some will naturally prefer the direction in which Sirk took the material, which provides an entirely different cinematic experience altogether.) Dunne, interestingly, isn’t all that memorable here. Unlike Wyman’s counterpart in the 1954 film, she’s at least appropriately young and beautiful — but she really functions as Taylor’s foil; it’s his film all the way.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Robert Taylor as Bob Merrick

Must See?
No, though it’s strongly recommended simply to see Taylor’s star-making turn. Listed as a film with Historical Importance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Magnificent Obsession (1954)

Magnificent Obsession (1954)

“Once you find the way, you’ll be bound. It will obsess you, but believe me, it will be a magnificent obsession.”

Synopsis:
A reckless playboy (Rock Hudson) involved in a boating accident pursues the widow (Jane Wyman) of a beloved doctor whose life was lost when Hudson was using the only resuscitation device available. When he accidentally causes Wyman to lose her sight, he seeks solace and guidance from a kind sculptor (Otto Kruger), who urges him to adapt the deceased doctor’s spiritual practice of secretive philanthropy. Soon Hudson is pursuing Wyman from a new perspective, under an assumed identity — much to the chagrin of her protective stepdaughter (Barbara Rush) and best friend (Agnes Moorehead).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Agnes Moorehead Films
  • Barbara Rush Films
  • Blindness
  • Character Arc
  • Doctors and Nurses
  • Douglas Sirk Films
  • Jane Wyman Films
  • Mistaken or Hidden Identities
  • Rock Hudson Films
  • Romance
  • Widows and Widowers

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary argues that while it’s “not prime Sirk”, this “glossy, melodramatic remake of the 1935 John Stahl classic” is nonetheless “an enjoyable tearjerker” featuring “an earnest performance by Hudson” in his breakthrough role.

Peary gives away a few too many spoilers in his review for me to quote it more extensively, but suffice it to say that he calls out the film’s Christian/spiritual underpinnings, which were a prominent feature of the source novel by minister Lloyd C. Douglas. In his much-more-cynical review, DVD Savant refers to the screenplay as “a rickety stack of accidents and ironies”, the dialogue as “painfully trite and often unintentionally funny”, and the underlying moral thrust — which he believes is corrupt — as “Presbyterian Guilt, [or] an exaggerated sense of responsibility”; he’s clearly not a fan of the film (or the story). My position lies somewhere in between both perspectives. Unless you buy into Sirk’s unique sensibility, you’re likely to find the entire film just a skosh removed from high camp — which is not to say you won’t enjoy some of its more melodramatic moments. There’s something undeniably moving about seeing a playboy genuinely reformed — and I found Hudson’s attraction to Wyman much more believable here than in their follow-up film, All That Heaven Allows. While this one is ultimately only must-see for Sirk completists, film fanatics will probably enjoy seeing it at least once.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Russell Metty’s rich Technicolor cinematography

Must See?
No, though film fanatics will likely be curious to see the first of Sirk’s most iconic mid-century melodramas.

Links:

Great Ziegfeld, The (1936)

Great Ziegfeld, The (1936)

“He’s up one day and down the next. If he got $10,000 tomorrow, he’d spend it on the girl he happened to like tomorrow night.”

Synopsis:
Carnival showman Flo Ziegfeld (William Powell) rises to fame and fortune when he decides to showcase some of the world’s most glamorous young women in a “Follies” show. But his roving eye causes tension in his first marriage with singer Anna Held (Luise Rainer), and his second marriage with Billie Burke (Myrna Loy) is colored by financial strain.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Biopics
  • Frank Morgan Films
  • Luise Rainer Films
  • Marital Problems
  • Myrna Loy Films
  • Showgirls
  • Vaudeville and Burlesque
  • William Powell Films

Review:
Referred to by TV Guide as “three hours of lumpy, overcooked pudding”, this infamously undeserving Best Picture winner may, as DVD Savant posits, set “new records for whitewashing a famous personage”. In his Alternate Oscars book, Peary refers to it as “an endless picture… with some of the most boring musical numbers imaginable”, noting that “even a number with a hundred chorus girls in their underwear is numbing”. DVD Savant is similarly no-holds-barred in his scathing review of the film, in which he asserts, “I’m assuming what we see here is almost a total fantasy”, given that:

“MGM’s Ziegfeld [apparently] had no faults, only the impish need to upstage his pompous pal played by Frank Morgan. He loved all women but had no affairs, and was essentially faithful to his first wife (doubtful) and devoted to his second (entirely possible). He’s that kind of rogue who’s forever broke but somehow living a permanent life of luxury, skating on his personality and promotional talent.”

Indeed, we ultimately learn frustratingly little about this larger-than-life historical figure, a man who had only been dead for a few years at the time of the film’s release, and whose widow (Billy Burke) was notoriously invested in ensuring that her beloved husband’s name not be sullied in any way. There actually seems to be an overarching fear of placing any of the characters here (most still alive) in too bad a light — with the exception of Virginia Bruce’s “Audrey Dane” (a stand-in for Ziegfeld’s real-life lover, Lillian Lorraine), who bears the brunt of the narrative’s bitchiness factor.

The real aim of the film, it seems, was to tap into audience members’ nostalgia for the Follies, since at that time, they were not all that far removed from people’s lived experiences; for today’s viewers, however, what passed as entertainment back then is simply puzzling in its unintentional banality. DVD Savant asserts that “most of the big numbers here are ugly in the extreme”, and that “grandiosity has never seemed so hollow” — sentiments which accurately capture my own feelings when watching one overblown production piece after another, all seemingly meant simply to wow audiences with sheer spectacle. But there’s very little “there” there. Other than a snippet of Fanny Brice singing “My Man”, and a pre-Wizard of Oz Ray Bolger performing a dance that shows ample evidence of why casting agents thought he would be perfect playing a limp-limbed scarecrow, the numbers really aren’t that memorable. Indeed, by the final one, I found myself simply distracted, with thoughts running through my head like, “Oh — there’s a woman in a drum majorette outfit dancing in front of a row of trained dogs. How strange.”

Luise Rainer’s Oscar-winning performance as Ziegfeld’s first wife, Anna Held (a.k.a. ‘The Viennese Teardrop’), is a primary reason film fanatics may be curious to see this movie — especially given that Rainer won an unprecedented second Oscar in a row the following year (for The Good Earth), then virtually disappeared from movies altogether; she’s a bit of an enigma. With that said, while she “had beauty, charm, and talent” (as stated by Peary in Alternate Oscars), audiences today will likely concede that “her characterization of Held as a sweet, emotional, indecisive, and insecure outsider wavers from being adorable to being irritating”. Peary further argues that her “celebrated phone call scene in which [she] pretends to be happy when she congratulates Ziegfeld on his [second] marriage… is a shameless scene that would have gotten an audience reaction no matter which actress played it”.

This is all true — and yet I’ll admit to finding myself somewhat transfixed whenever Rainer was on-screen; she did possess a strangely magnetic (if, indeed, mildly irksome) personality, and it’s a shame her cinematic career was so erratic after this.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Rainer’s Oscar-winning performance as the petulant but winsome diva Anna Held
  • Fanny Brice singing (part of) “My Man”
  • Ray Bolger’s “elastic” dancing routine
  • Typically outrageous Follies costumes

Must See?
No, though most film fanatics will likely be curious to check it out once just for its dubious relevance as an Oscar winner. Listed as a film with Historical Importance in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Phantom of the Opera (1943)

Phantom of the Opera (1943)

“Christine, you’re going to be a great and famous singer — I’ll help you.”

Synopsis:
A middle-aged violinist (Claude Rains) secretly funds the voice lessons of a beautiful young understudy (Susanna Foster) at the Paris Opera. When he is dismissed from his job, Rains tries to earn money to continue Foster’s lessons by selling a concerto he’s composed, but is disfigured by acid when, in a fit of rage, he kills the man who he believes has stolen his work. He escapes from the police and goes underground at the opera house, determined to make Foster a star at any cost.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Character Arc
  • Claude Rains Films
  • Disfigured Faces
  • Horror
  • Hume Cronyn Films
  • Love Triangle
  • Opera

Review:
Universal Pictures’ remake of its own silent-era horror classic is an entirely different cinematic experience altogether — one which, unfortunately, can’t hold a candle to its atmospheric predecessor. As noted in Richard Schreib’s review of the 1925 Lon Chaney version, that film’s director “keeps the character of the Phantom deliberately mysterious –- as opposed to [in] other versions” (such as this one), “which create too much sympathy and not enough mystery for the Phantom.” Indeed, this later version is less a supernatural horror film than an operatic love triangle underscored by a tragic character study — a messy melange of genres which never really gel. In a significant departure from the original novel by Gaston Leroux, the first half-hour or so is given over to providing a back-story for the Phantom, who turns out to be a reasonably sympathetic, if deeply disturbed, violinist who, for reasons left frustratingly opaque — is he her father? (in the original novel, her father is a deceased fiddler) — holds a lifelong obsession with making Christine (Foster) a star. Rains is as compelling to watch as always, but — despite the clear effort made to flesh out his character — his Phantom feels “unfinished” somehow; it’s almost as though, in their attempt to humanize the Phantom, the filmmakers stripped him of his mystery while unintentionally opening up a host of other unanswered questions.

Meanwhile, as noted in Time Out’s review, the film is at least “very pretty to look at, with lush Technicolor, handsome sets, and even a fetchingly sculptured mask to give Claude Rains’ rather benign Phantom the look of a contented feline.” However, the “endless operatic snippets for Eddy and Foster to warble [make] it all a somewhat tiresome waste of Rains’ performance.” In addition, while there was a clear romantic rival for the Phantom’s affections in the original film, here this element of the plot has been needlessly opened up to include a pair of “humorously” rivalrous suitors for Foster — not just policeman Raoul D’Aubert (Edgar Barrier), but tenor Anatole Garron (Nelson Eddy) as well (presumably because Rains, as hinted above, never posits overtly romantic yearnings towards Christine). Foster is charming in her way (and certainly beautiful), but Barrier and Eddy are simply insipid male co-leads. Other than Rains’ performance, the best element of the film by far are its reasonably atmospheric sets, including the use of the same Paris Opera House replica that appears in the original silent version.

Note: Click here to read a list of the dozens of multi-media adaptations (so far) of Phantom… — a story which clearly resonates on an archetypal level for many.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Oscar-winning sets
  • Claude Rains as Erique Claudin/”The Phantom”

Must See?
No; this one is only must-see for true Phantom-philes.

Links:

Johnny Belinda (1948)

Johnny Belinda (1948)

“There’s only one shame: failing a human being who needs you.”

Synopsis:
A doctor (Lew Ayres) in a Nova Scotian village befriends and tutors a young deaf woman (Jane Wyman) whose father (Charles Bickford) and aunt (Agnes Moorehead) previously thought she was simply a “dummy”. When Belinda (Wyman) is raped by a local fisherman (Stephan McNally), she becomes pregnant, and the entire town suspects Ayres of being the father.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Agnes Moorehead Films
  • Character Arc
  • Charles Bickford Films
  • Deafness
  • Doctors and Nurses
  • Jan Sterling Films
  • Jane Wyman Films
  • Jean Negulesco Films
  • Rape

Review:
Peary doesn’t seem to be a big fan of this Oscar-nominated film, which garnered Jane Wyman a Best Actress award. While he doesn’t review it in his GFTFF (he simply lists it in the back), he discusses it a bit in the 1948 “chapter” of his Alternate Oscars book, where he notes that “after years in lightweight roles”, Wyman finally got her “big break” in this film. He argues that “the part was so strong already that Wyman really wasn’t required to act”, and that “director Jean Negulesco had her give a remarkably restrained performance (she rarely changes expressions) so it wouldn’t be so evident that they were milking the audience for sympathy”. He posits (unfairly, in my opinion) that “Wyman just smiled prettily and kept her eyes wide open”, ultimately coming across as “extremely huggable and lovable” — hence, her Oscar. Adding insult to injury, while Wyman was nominated no less than four times as best leading actress in a film, Peary never nominates her at all in his Alternate Oscars.

I’m not particularly a fan of Wyman myself — but I do find her performance here to be note-perfect; in fact, it’s likely my favorite of all her roles. Truth be told, I’ve always thought of Wyman as a bit dowdy, and have a hard time “buying” her in more glamorous parts (i.e., in Douglas Sirk’s films); she’s what you might call a handsome woman, but not particularly beautiful — and thus, she’s perfectly suited for her role here, where her “earthier” appeal is allowed to shine. Meanwhile, she’s surrounded by a top-notch supporting cast, with several familiar character actors — Charles Bickford, Agnes Moorehead, and Jan Sterling — given meatier roles than usual (to excellent effect). What’s especially refreshing is how each of these seemingly archetypal characters — bullish father (Bickford), shrewish aunt (Moorehead), jealous townswoman (Sterling) — are allowed to transcend their initial characterizations, each tapping into a store of deeply guarded humanity. Also notable is Lew Ayres (best known for his starring role in 1930’s All Quiet on the Western Front), who — as a noted pacifist during WWII — apparently had a hard time earning meaningful roles; he’s smartly cast here, and offers a refreshingly avuncular leading-man presence.

Interestingly, as DVD Savant points out, this was “one of the first Hollywood films to look at a handicapped [sic] person as a worthy subject for drama” — something we take for granted these days, when such a role almost guarantees that an actor will be nominated for an Oscar. The storyline itself, despite its undeniably harsh subject matter, is tastefully handled throughout; with the exception of a couple of key narrative twists later in the film which are handled a bit too facilely (I can’t say more at risk of spoiling), it’s a nicely balanced script, filled with plenty of local dialogue. Shot in coastal Northern California, the sets accurately reflect the windswept rockiness of Nova Scotia, and both cinematographer Ted McCord and Negulescu do a fine job presenting the tale through consistently atmospheric visuals. In sum, this one will likely surprise you as — in DVD Savant’s words — “a rare animal, a heart-warming sentimental story that doesn’t tax one’s intelligence, even if it does take a few melodramatic turns on its way.”

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Jane Wyman as Belinda
  • Lew Ayres as Dr. Richardson
  • A host of excellent supporting performances


  • Ted McCord’s atmospheric cinematography

  • Fine direction by Negulescu

Must See?
Yes, for Wyman’s Oscar-winning performance, and as an overall good show.

Categories

  • Noteworthy Performance(s)
  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

Links:

Nun’s Story, The (1959)

Nun’s Story, The (1959)

“Your personal wishes cease to exist when you enter that door.”

Synopsis:
The daughter (Audrey Hepburn) of a renowned surgeon (Dean Jagger) becomes a nun and is sent to the Belgian Congo, where she works with Dr. Fortunati (Peter Finch) in a hospital and struggles to remain true to the tenets of her faith.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Africa
  • Audrey Hepburn Films
  • Dean Jagger Films
  • Doctors and Nurses
  • Fred Zinnemann Films
  • Mildred Dunnock Films
  • Niall MacGinnis Films
  • Nuns
  • Peter Finch Films

Review:
Upon learning that Fred Zinnemann’s 2.5-hour The Nun’s Story — based on a factually-inspired novel by Kathryn Hulme — became Warner Brothers’ highest grossing film at the time of its release, one feels a renewed respect for the tolerances and interests of mid-century American audiences, given that it’s a lengthy, serious, introspective movie about the quest for a meaningful spiritual existence. Yet it was likely the undeniable star-power of Audrey Hepburn — in perhaps her best-suited role — that drew viewers to the theater; while there’s nary a Dior outfit in sight, she remains as captivating to watch as ever. Her wonderfully expressive face tells us everything we need to know about the complicated trajectory her character chooses to undergo, shedding her prior identity as Gabrielle van der Mal — beloved daughter of a devoted father (Dean Jagger) — to become “Sister Luke”.

The film’s first half-hour is arguably its most compelling — simply from an ethnographic perspective — as we’re made privy to the ritualistic experiences of novitiate nuns, whose lives are conducted largely in silence. After this, the narrative turns to the quietly compelling drama of Hepburn’s struggle to remain “Selfless”, as she’s trained for work as a nurse, and is given no choice in where she’s sent or who she’s asked to work with. Audiences must have wondered what — if anything — would be made of Sister Luke’s close working situation with Peter Finch’s enigmatic and handsome Dr. Fortunati (what a name!); thankfully, both the script and the performances preserve the essence of their platonic mutual respect for one another. The film’s final half-hour, as Sister Luke reaches a crisis in her personal identity, serves as a fine culmination to the meaty and respectful narrative we’ve experienced until then.

In sum, The Nun’s Story will likely surprise you in the way it manages to present a saga of spiritual angst within such a compelling and engaging narrative framework. In a way, this would make a fascinating double-bill with Black Narcissus (1947), given that the two films — though obviously told in radically divergent cinematic styles — are thematically related in that they are both concerned with nuns who question their devotion to their order. Both films also feature a fine cast of supporting performers: as DVD Savant notes, The Nun’s Story offers a virtual “Who’s Who of professional actresses” popping up at various times throughout its narrative, including Edith Evans, Peggy Ashcroft, Mildred Dunnock, Beatrice Straight, Patricia Collinge, Ruth White, Colleen Dewhurst, and Dorothy Alison (the latter in a truly heartbreaking and memorable bit part). The male roster, while naturally smaller, is also impressive, and includes not only Finch but Dean Jagger (in a small but pivotal role as Hepburn’s father), Lionel Jeffries, and Niall MacGinnis. The collective energies that went into crafting this lovingly told, powerful tale make it well worth a film fanatic’s time to sit through.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Audrey Hepburn as Sister Luke (nominated by Peary as one of the Best Actresses of the Year in his Alternate Oscars)
  • Peter Finch as Dr. Fortunati
  • Many fine supporting performances

  • The fascinating first half-hour, in which Hepburn is indoctrinated into her order

  • An interesting ethnographic glimpse at life in the Congo


  • Franz Planer’s cinematography

Must See?
Yes, as a surprisingly powerful film about spiritual faith and personal identity. Listed as a film with Historical Importance in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Historically Relevant

Links:

Blue Dahlia, The (1946)

Blue Dahlia, The (1946)

“Just don’t get too complicated, Eddie. When a man gets too complicated, he’s unhappy. And when he’s unhappy, his luck runs out.”

Synopsis:
A veteran (Alan Ladd) returning from active duty in WWII with his two buddies (William Bendix and Hugh Beaumont) is disturbed to learn that his wife (Doris Dowling) has been carrying on an affair with a shady nightclub owner (Howard Da Silva). When his wife is murdered later that evening, Ladd becomes a prime suspect and hits the road, accidentally meeting Da Silva’s estranged wife (Veronica Lake) along the way.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Alan Ladd Films
  • Falsely Accused
  • George Marshall Films
  • Murder Mystery
  • Veronica Lake Films
  • Veterans
  • William Bendix Films

Review:
The Blue Dahlia is notorious for being the only film with an original script by Raymond Chandler (his novels were all adapted for the screen by other writers) — and when reading about the trouble he had actually completing the screenplay, it’s easy to understand why. With that said, the film itself remains an enjoyable, if uneven, entry in the film noir genre — one which showcases Chandler’s typically pulpy dialogue and characters, and offers a reasonably satisfying cinematic experience overall. Diminutive romantic leads Ladd and Lake were cast together for the third time (after This Gun For Hire and the non-Peary-listed The Glass Key, both made in 1942), and they make a visually appealing “couple” — but the problem is that their “relationship” together (not to mention Lake’s ambiguously problematic marriage to Da Silva) is never adequately defined or developed. Chandler notoriously referred to Lake as “Moronica” Lake, and one can’t help wondering whether his disdain for her as an actress bled over into the lack of care he took in crafting her character. Regardless, it’s a frustrating flaw in the narrative.

The central murder mystery, however, remains both taut and suspenseful, with the killer’s identity coming as a true surprise (don’t read too much about the movie online, as most reviews immediately give away a form of spoiler). Ladd is appropriately brooding and wary — if ultimately not quite as charismatic as, say, Bogart — playing a veteran who comes home to a truly nasty “surprise” in the form of his openly disdainful and philandering wife (one desperately wonders what their relationship was like pre-war; what drew the two of them together in the first place?). Meanwhile, Bendix turns in yet another solid supporting performance in a critical role as Ladd’s plate-headed buddy; the opening scene in a bar nicely establishes his character’s bugaboo. Da Silva is equally effective in a tricky role as a nightclub owner with a shady past who seems to regret having gotten involved with Dowling in the first place, and Will Wright is instantly smarmy as a house detective who’s a little too interested in the welfare of his most attractive clients.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Stark, noir-ish cinematography by Lionel Linden
  • William Bendix as Buzz
  • Howard Da Silva as Eddie Harwood
  • Will Wright as “Dad” Newell
  • Fine, hard-boiled dialogue by Chandler:

    “It’s funny, but practically all people were strangers when I met them.”

Must See?
Yes, simply to see Chandler’s only screenwriting venture. Listed as a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Historically Relevant

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