I have revisited director William Wyler’s Dodsworth (1936), a film based on a Sinclair Lewis novel, many times over the years and the older I get, the richer it becomes. While any movie can change meaning with repeat viewings, this is a production that particularly reveals new facets with time. Now beautifully restored and available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive, I recently enjoyed this drama of aging, love, and loneliness anew.
Walter Huston stars as Sam Dodsworth, a small-town auto magnate who sells his factory and plans to settle into retirement with his wife Fran (Ruth Chatterton). His significant other is much younger than he is and not so eager to sink into old age. After years of provincial boredom in the proper social circles, she is ready for some excitement.
The pair embarks on a cruise to Europe, where Fran struggles with the politics of shipboard flirtations (David Niven is sleek and charming as her shipboard suitor) and Sam meets a friendly and frank divorcee named Edith (Mary Astor), who has been living on the cheap in Italy. Life on the Continent strains the already weakening bond between the Dodsworths. Fran wants to sow her oats, but she doesn’t fully understand her needs, nor does she live in a society that supports her desires. Sam is eager to explore the local culture and can’t understand his wife’s frantic behavior.
Though Sam initially tries to force Fran to return home to meet her new grandchild and accept the reality of her age, he eventually realizes that she must have her freedom. While she embarks on a shallow adventure among posh, but cash-poor hangers on, he tries to keep busy at home and abroad. A chance meeting with Edith starts to point him on the right track, but his sense of marital duty complicates matters.
When I first saw Dodsworth, I viewed Fran as the villain of the piece. I focused on the vain, snobbish, disloyal aspects of this woman who could so easily discard her husband at the first opportunity. In subsequent viewings I have developed more empathy for this unhappy character. Even as a wealthy white woman, she is limited by societal expectations that are at odds with her desire for a vibrant life. You can sense her feelings of imprisonment in the requirements of convention.
In a way it is understandable that the Dodsworths were once drawn to each other. Each of them possesses a big spirit; they’re both hungry for adventure. It’s just that their concept of what that means has changed over time. Sam loves his wife, but in his refusal to try to truly understand her perspective, he is as toxic for Fran as she is for him. Edith sees this relationship for what it is, and tries to coax both the Dodsworths to see themselves with more clarity.
It was, and still is rare for a film to so thoroughly and effectively explore these adult, existential matters. In an industry so often focused on youthful adventure and romance, there’s something deeply satisfying about looking at what happens after marriage, parenthood, and retirement. It is a process of facing the truth and finding it devastating, beautiful, and full of the complexities that make life fascinating.
The Blu-ray includes a Lux Radio Theater production of Dodsworth from 1937, co-starring Huston and his wife Ninetta “Nan” Sunderland.
Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.
I’ve always viewed the films that Bette Davis made with director William Wyler as an emotionally charged conversation between actress and filmmaker. There’s something precise about the cinema they made together, as if they are trying to achieve the perfect mix of the authentic and the dramatic. You can sense it in Jezebel (1938) and The Little Foxes (1941), but I’ve found that mood most intense in The Letter (1940), which just made its Blu-ray debut from Warner Archive.
Adapted from a Somerset Maugham novel, the story of a married woman living on a far east plantation who kills her lover first came to the screen in 1929 as one of the few movie performances of troubled stage actress Jeanne Eagels. Her performance remains remarkable today for its intensity. She doesn’t seem intimidated or restrained by the camera and microphone and somehow makes a playing to the rafters performance work on film. Her stilted costars look like they’re in another world. She’d first performed the role on the stage and seemed to have carried her interpretation to Hollywood intact. It’s a theatrical take, but it’s drawn from real, raw fury.
Davis’ take on Leslie Crosbie seems to have been somewhat inspired by Eagels intensity, but she finds power in repressing her anger at being trapped on a plantation, ignored by her husband, with nothing to do but obsessively make lace. She doesn’t feel guilty about committing adultery and murder, because in her mind, she had no choice but to find ways to entertain herself. She acts as if the true betrayal is by her lover for leaving her alone again.
This is not Leslie’s world though, and while the court is firmly on the side of the white upper classes, her lover’s Eurasian wife (Gale Sondergaard) will see that justice is served. In classic Hollywood, even a rich white lady can’t get away with sinning in the end. As opposed to Eagels, who is defiant in her undying love for the man she murdered, Davis’ Leslie is tortured, and on a certain level realizes she will never have a moment of peace without him. It is possible that revenge is a welcome distraction for her.
Wyler and Davis fought hard about how the complicated Ms. Crosbie should be portrayed and the result is a ferociously executed performance that reflects that passion. These two have long been my favorite director and actress combo, because the turmoil of their fiery, but ultimately productive onset battles never fails to translate in some way to the screen. It is lively filmmaking which transcends the essentially orderly nature of making movies in the studio age.
The Blu-ray image is clear and clean without being too sharp. Special features on the disc include two different radio productions of the story starring Davis and her costar in the film Herbert Marshall. There is also a theatrical trailer.
Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.
Unless you subscribe to their DVD plan, Netflix doesn’t offer a lot of classic films. However, when it comes to documentaries of interest to those who love the golden age of movies, it’s a different story. I’ve found several interesting flicks on the service, some of them even produced by Netflix. My favorites:
Quincy (2018)
Rashida Jones offers a loving, but honest portrait of her father in this intimate documentary about legendary composer, producer, musician and band leader Quincy Jones. With a beautifully arranged mix of archival and current footage, she explores his brilliance and flaws in equal measure, admirably giving proper attention to the women who put their lives on hold so that Jones could shine. Film fans will enjoy the brief, but interesting segment about the composer's film scores.
Faces Places (2017)
Influential French New Wave filmmaker Agnès Varda and the street artist JR are a charming pair on their essentially light-hearted journey through the French countryside. They travel in a customized van fitted with a special printer which makes oversized prints of the photos they take of people they meet on their travels. They plaster these pictures in public places, giving ordinary citizens a taste of fame and even more importantly, the feeling that they are worthy of attention. As interesting as the people they meet is the relationship between the two artists, who are divided by generations and emotional maturity, but share a deep compassion for and curiosity about humanity.
Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story (2017)
When I saw this emotionally rich film about the actress and inventor Hedy Lamarr for the first time on public television, I regretted not recording it, as I immediately wanted to watch it again. It explores both her Hollywood career and the passion for inventing that inspired her to create signal hopping technology, which would eventually be used to secure cell phone communication. It is a simultaneously thrilling and frustrating story, buoyed by Lamarr’s brilliance and wisdom, but ultimately tragic because she never fully got her due for what she accomplished during her lifetime.
Five Came Back (2017)
This three-part documentary is based on Mark Harris’ book of the same name about the films Hollywood directors John Huston, Frank Capra, John Ford, William Wyler, and George Stevens made on the frontlines of World War II. Directors Steven Spielberg, Guillermo del Toro, Francis Ford Coppola, Paul Greengrass, and Lawrence Kasdan talk about this diverse group of filmmakers, essentially the best of Hollywood at the time, and how they threw themselves into danger to document war. Several of the films the directors made are also available on the service, including: Nazi Concentration Camps (1945), Undercover: How to Operate Behind Enemy Lines (1943), The Battle of Midway (1942), San Pietro (1945), and Why We Fight: The Battle of Russia (1943).
Tab Hunter Confidential (2015)
I love the positive, loving tone of this tribute to actor, singer, and teen heartthrob Tab Hunter. The star has weathered a brutal industry with grace, an especially remarkable thing as he had the added burden of living as a homosexual when it could end a career. Hunter himself gets lots of screentime. He remains a mesmerizing presence.
Filmworker (2017)
Leon Vitali was once an actor with a thriving career which promised to ascend to great heights. Then he met Stanley Kubrick while working on Barry Lyndon (1975) and decided to give it all up to work for the director in any capacity he could. His enduring devotion, and the way he was in thrall to this demanding filmmaker, are the subject of this fascinating, if occasionally unsettling documentary. It can be hard to watch Vitali suffer for the art of another, putting stress on his relationships, health, and finances, because as a society, we are taught to aspire to great things for ourselves. However, the film taps into the passion that Vitali felt for his work, demonstrating how his efforts were instrumental to the vision Kubrick brought to the screen and how in the end, he thought it worth sacrificing his own spotlight.
Merle Oberon was one of the most unpredictable actresses in classic Hollywood. She was worthy of her stardom, and always interesting to observe, but her performances could be wildly uneven. When she had the right director, or a great story, she was a unique delight: elegant, romantic and seeming to conceal more complex emotions beneath the glamorous mask. Without the right elements though she would struggle to rise about it, becoming rigid and closed off to her audience.
When she succeeded though, she was appealing in a way that was completely her own--a queen with the common touch. In a pair of new releases from Warner Archive, Oberon demonstrates the best of her dramatic and comedic skills in two of her more successful performances.
It is difficult, but so fulfilling to watch William Wyler's These Three (1936). Based on the Lillian Hellman play The Children's Hour, the director would be freed to acknowledge the lesbian aspects of the plot in his 1961 remake of the film. However, this censored, but thematically true original, which retains several lines from the stage production, is a more elegantly staged and emotionally satisfying version of the story.
Oberon and Miriam Hopkins star as Karen and Martha, two young college graduates who start a country boarding school for girls. They are successful, and beloved by their community, until a student with a bone to pick (Bonita Granville) tells a lie that destroys their careers and personal lives. Joel McCrea is a local doctor loved by both women, who always shows a preference for Karen.
Perhaps best known for his powerful collaborations with Bette Davis, Wyler knew how to inspire subtle work from volatile actresses. Hopkins is unusually restrained here and all the more effective for her reserve as the lovelorn Martha. She is most effective in her close-ups, where in her stillness she allows her face to flood with frustration and heartbreak. Oberon has never been more humble, keeping the elegant speech pattern, but allowing herself to be vulnerable. It is easy to understand why McCrea is smitten with her, because her emotions are easy to read and she is so hopeful that you want her to be happy.
While the titular trio draws you in with their charm and the subtle tension of the love triangle, it is the child actors who make this such an intense and unnerving classic. As the resentful, gossiping student Mary, Granville is frighteningly animalistic in her ferocity. She was understandably Oscar-nominated for this role in which she gives herself over completely to a hideous and deeply wounded character. She spits out angry accusations with her head completely still, the words shooting through her lips like well-aimed missiles. Marcia Mae Jones is also gut-wrenching as a student Mary blackmails into supporting her lies. She makes you feel the shame of a child who doesn't realize that mistakes can be forgiven and that they don't destroy all hope of happiness.
I always think I won't be able to bear the experience of going through this film another time, but while it can be excruciating, it is also romantic, occasionally sweet and always a compelling web of motives and disparate personalities.
With a well-worn mistaken identity plot and little verbal wit to counteract the clichés, The Cowboy and the Lady (1938) has the immediate appearance of being a routine, forgettable film, but it somehow ends up being something more exciting. It's got an intriguing sweetness to it, with a quirkily charming cast, and it showcases one of Oberon's most appealing comic performances.
Oberon is the daughter of a wealthy presidential hopeful. When the sheltered socialite kicks up her heels with her more liberal-minded uncle (Harry Davenport), and gets caught in a club raid, her father sends her to his Palm Beach mansion to wait out the scandal. There she attempts to escape her boredom by asking her maids to set her up with a date.
She meets a tall, handsome and adorably shy cowboy (Gary Cooper) and falls hard for him. Thinking she's just in it for a kiss, she pretends to be a lady's' maid and makes up a few dependent siblings and an alcoholic father to gain his sympathy. When she actually does fall in love, she struggles with her secret, which of course will eventually be discovered.
While Cooper and Oberon are perfectly cast as the respective cowboy and lady, they are an odd match. There's a sort of emotional chemistry, but no real sensuality. It isn't a bad coupling though, they make a loveable pair.
Oberon has never been so delightfully flirtatious. She really relaxes in this role, something she rarely, if ever seems to do in comedies. That lack of tension seems to free her to indulge in interesting bits of business, like the way she gently holds the sleeve of Cooper's shirt between her fingertips while they have their first conversation or how she draws him into her orbit by holding his gaze slightly longer than he can handle.
Though this is one of Oberon's less substantial films, it's one of her most charmingly nuanced performances. With her uncharacteristic looseness, she is more fun-loving and less haughty. Though she keeps her characteristic regal demeanor, she gives her character a playful naughtiness, as if she is an ingénue getting a little tipsy for the first time. She even manages a bit of slapstick with some flypaper, which works because she is so willing to have some fun with her own elegant image.
Cooper is awkward and sexy, basically in full "aw shucks" mode. If he is less successful than Oberon, it is partly because his role has some of the weakest, and most drawn out bits in the movie. However, as he does in his best films, he starts off mild, but once his heart is broken, he gives that indignant speech that makes you crumble.
One of the best parts of the film is the supporting cast, with Patsy Kelly and Mabel Todd as Oberon's savvy, but salt of the earth maids; Walter Brennan and Fuzzy Knight as their cowpoke beaus;
and Davenport as the affectionate and wise party-loving uncle who is always a few steps ahead of his ambitious brother. They all make the screenplay seem a lot better than it is and keep the action moving along at a good pace.
Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.
