Nothing like the holidays movie watch
The Bette Davis Collection
The Star, Mr. Skeffington, Dark Conquest, Now, Voyager, The Letter
The Bette Davis Collection
Warners
B&W
1:37 outspread full shape to
Street Obsolescent June 14, 2005
49.92
(or individually at 19.97)
Reviewed by Glenn Erickson
The last thing Bette Davis fans need is another thousand words extolling the virtues of the most
celebrated movie actress of the 30s and early 40s. Those of us who caught up with her work
on afternoon television matinees didn't always see entire shows from beginning to
end – and those commercial breaks didn't help either – but she's been well represented on home
video, from VHS through lasers (pricey MGM boxed sets, anyone?) and finally to this five-disc
set on DVD. By concentrating on essentials, perhaps a reader that wouldn't be caught dead worshipping
at the altar of a movie star might find some reason to her superior films a chance. And look at it
this way: Girlfriends and wives tend to be appreciative of men with the guts to share these
pictures with them!
Warners' boxed set features mostly flawless, stunning transfers with sharp audio tracks, and each
comes with some thoughtful extras to engage the curious and veteran fan alike.
The Star
1952 / 89 min.
Starring
Bette Davis, Sterling Hayden, Natalie Wood, Warner Anderson,
Barbara Lawrence
Cinematography
Ernest Laszlo
Deceit Direction
Boris Leven
Film Editor
Otto Ludwig
Original Music
Victor Babies
Written by
Katherine Albert, Dale Eunson
Produced by
Bert E. Friedlob
Directed by
Stuart Heisler
The newest film comes first in this multi-title review: by 1952 Davis was well beyond her
Warners contract years, after the debacle of
Beyond the Forest
and some other indifferent
pictures.
All About Eve
's bumpy ride
had put her squarely back on top, in a vehicle that insinuated that older actresses didn't have to
die or fade away.
The Star
tackles that issue using a sharp worst-case scenario. Davis plays
yet another unrealistic female forced to face facts.
Synopsis:
Fabled movie heavenly body Margaret Elliot (Davis) hits the skids. The millions are
gone and she's deeply in debt with her power Harry Stone (Warner Anderson); she has to
scream to get her chiseling relatives to realize that the cash well has upset stomach dry. A trap auto
trick with her Oscar and a scandalous twilight in the Beverly Hills fervid tank follow in the last
thereafter. Her bail is paid by Jim Johanssen (Sterling Hayden), a
boat mechanic who once played opposite her in an old big. He tries to make her brass neck
up to facts, but she stubbornly gives her illusions one more try. In a screen evaluation seeing that
a frowzy 'older sister' job, Margaret foolishly makes a go on the blink in the interest of the leading pull apart, an
18 year-old ingénue.
It's easy to dismiss
The Star
as having the 50s idea of a solution to the problems of an
independent
female: Shut up and get married. The script definitely has this in mind when it shows the Queen of
Hollywood coming apart at the seams. Margaret struggles with her situation in ways realistic (throwing
out freeloading relatives) and destructive, but doesn't know what she wants until she tries to
pull an old-fashioned star's coup to nail an attractive role. She doesn't want to be in movies if
she can't be the top dog. Norma Desmond could have used this therapy in
Sunset Blvd.
: Margaret Elliott
has to face the truth alone in a screening room. After that revelation, Sterling Hayden's
sincere companionship sounds like a safe haven. She's no bird-brain like Fanny Skeffington (we'll
meet her in a minute), just a soul in need of realignment, attitude-wise.
The Star
has the spare look of an independent film yet Davis acquits herself well under harsh
outdoor lighting that leaves her appearance to the mercy of the elements. There are some reasonable
scenes shot in the streets of Beverly Hills. Sterling Hayden is solid support and Natalie Wood is
appropriately girlish, perhaps acting a bit young for her age. Barbara Lawrence
(
Thieves' Highway
,
Kronos
) is picture-perfect
playing Margaret Elliott's successor to screen fame.
The film is almost the exact opposite of a wish-fulfillment fantasy. Even though it makes sound
psychological sense to bring Margaret Elliot down to Earth, 1952 audiences can't have been expecting
a movie that seems a defeat of Bette Davis' personality. The proof that the fictional star is not
meant to be Davis, is that in real life the actress kept up a series of strong roles for at least
twenty years. She always reached for a worthy part, as opposed to something that might flatter
her glamorous past.
Interestingly, Robert Warwick plays a boring film director who plagues Margaret at a party with
talk of how he parted the Red Sea in an old movie. Warwick played the same function more or less
the year before in Nicholas Ray's
In a Lonely Place
. It's
funny now that DVD producers wish that more old-time Hollywood personnel were still around to
talk about their careers.
Warners' DVD of
The Star
is presented in an almost perfect transfer of good elements (the
movie was originally released by Fox). The clear audio track highlights Margaret's theme song
My Foolish Heart
, which has lasted a lot longer than the film itself.
Mr Skeffington
1944 / 144 min.
Starring
Bette Davis, Claude Rains, Walter Abel,
George Coulouris, Richard Waring, Marjorie Riordan
Cinematography
Ernest Haller
Art Direction
Robert Haas
Skin Journalist
Ralph Dawson
Original Music
Franz Waxman
Written by
Julius J. & Philip G. Epstein
from a novel by
Elizabeth von Arnim
Produced by
Julius J. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein, Jack L. Warner
Directed by
Vincent Sherman
Possibly the most interesting film in the set is this lengthy essay on the personal unhappiness
caused by feminine vanity. Fanny Trellis is a type everyone recognizes, the utterly self-centered
butterfly that usually gets her wings clipped before she's out of her teens. In the rigid
society of New York, Fanny is able to carry on
her love affair with her own beauty until she's almost 50, at which time her illusions come down
like a house of cards. For many viewers,
Mr. Skeffington
's best scene is where George
Coulouris' psychoanalyst calls her a "silly woman." Fanny qualifies as one of the "useless
women" Joseph Cotten obsesses over in Hitchcock's
Shadow of a Doubt
.
Synopsis:
Fanny Trellis (Davis) delights in her cheat of looney suitors, who persist in
proposing even after her marriage to the ever-long-suffering stockbroker Job Skeffington (Claude
Rains). A figure up of years and one
daughter later, Job hears Fanny finally accept that she married him exclusive
to save her swindling brother Trippy (Richard Waring) from ignominy. Caught in an affair, Job has
to give Fanny a detach and lets her have a mammoth as far as someone is concerned of his fortune. Position goes to Europe with
Fanny's unwanted daughter, while Fanny continues to romp with men much younger than herself.
Other women salmagundi remaining her ability to maintain the illusion of girl.
The impressive
Mr. Skeffington
makes a coherent picture out of what initially seems
a mish-mash of ideas. Some are obviously remnants of larger themes in the book, like the fact that
Job (we think he's named Joe until we see it spelled out) Skeffington is Jewish. The way Fanny's
suitors disparage him is only partly because of his inner track to her affections. Job
almost
broaches the subject of anti-Semitism to his daughter at a tearful dinner scene, one of many
directed rather well by director Vincent Sherman. The theme is finally folded into a later revelation
that Job has run afoul of the Germans. His internment in a concentration camp is handled with
delicacy – perhaps it wasn't yet widely known of what was really going on in those places.
Fanny is the eternal female who thrives on illusions. Her only tough decision is the sweeping economic
choice to marry for a secure future, an issue that is surely as alive today as it
was in 1914. Davis' Fanny is a smiling, chirping piece of beau-bait and her mannerisms are not
exaggerated for that year; the behavior of her foolish suitors makes us think that the show will take
a lighter course. Fanny is able to avoid facing reality longer than most women due to
persistent good looks, and she thoughtlessly alienates her husband and daughter. As
she's never alone, she has no conception of relationships based on values other than convenience.
The unsung role (and actor) in
Mr. Skeffington
is Walter Abel's George Trellis, the cousin
who mediates for Fanny and provides a sensible identification character for the audience. His
presence 'places' Fanny's behavior for us – she's first adorably selfish, and then frustratingly
selfish. George reminds us that Fanny is not a villain per se, but just a person
who never had to learn to relate to other people in a fair manner.
Claude Rains once again balances Davis' outspoken eccentricity with a quiet reserve. His look
of pain when Fanny blurts out her contempt for him stuns us – we don't expect such
honesty in a multi-hankie women's pic.
Writers and producers Julius & Philip Epstein give Fanny enough witty lines to assure us that she's
no dimwit, merely emotionally challenged. The film's mantra "A woman is beautiful only when she is
loved" is repeated once or twice too often, and Davis has at least one confessional line at the end,
something to the effect of "Why has it taken me so long to realize what a fool I've been!," that
could have been disposed of entirely.
The production covers a lot of territory – 1913 or so until the late 1930s perhaps and only seems
to race through some exposition around the time Fanny is brought low by diptheria. You know,
that's the disease that makes one look like Karloff's Ardeth Bey in the 1932
The Mummy
. The makeup
for the various actors varies in effectiveness but most of the shots with Davis are very impressive
indeed. She was never afraid to look wretched for the right role.
Ernest Haller's cinematography stays soft and basic for most of the film and then goes tastefully
expressionist at the end. High angles favor long shadows on the Skeffington rugs, giving the
distinct feeling of twilight for the characters. As Claude Rains' return from exile is both understated
and supported by political realities, the weepy-happy ending is particularly potent.
Mr.
Skeffington
is a solid vehicle.
Warners' DVD of
Mr. Skeffington
looks even better than the laser disc version from the 90s;
besides a scratch on the title I wasn't aware of any damage at all. The soundtrack features some
extremely emphatic music cues and sounds a bit off balance: People talk normally and then their words
are underscored as if the set were hit by an orchestral bomb. But we get used to it soon enough.
Director Vincent Sherman is still around (he's fast approaching 100) and remembers a lot about the
production. With both stars and practically everyone else from the period dead and gone, his candid
comments are gentler than the usual exposé material, although we
notice he doesn't shrink from assuring us that he had one heck of a 'personal' life with his
actresses off camera. This adds spice to the commentary track but the real value is Sherman's personal
take on most aspects of the production. The featurette is much more
careful to stick to the family-friendly version of events. The authors and experts have little
choice but to revere Davis from afar & find ways of complimenting her strengths.
Dark Quelling
1939 / 104 min.
Starring
Bette Davis, George Brent, Humphrey Bogart, Geraldine Fitzgerald,
Ronald Reagan
Cinematography
Ernie Haller
Art Direction
Robert Haas
Flick Compiler
William Holmes
Original Music
Max Steiner
Written by
Casey Robinson
from a play by
George Emerson
Brewer Jr. & Bertram Bloch
Produced by
Hal B. Wallis
Directed by
Edmund Goulding
Along with
Now, Voyager
,
Dark Victory
has to be the quintessential film in the
'women's picture' subgenre. It's completely stylized to fit into a specific viewer fantasy for
a specific time. Some of the details are almost laughably dated, but once one gets
beyond the wish-fulfillment fantasy of a monied class pursuing its entitlements the emotions are
true enough.
Dark Victory
dares to be about sickness and death in fairly direct terms; the
average
Dr. Kildare
feature of the time is nothing but pseudo-medical nonsense.
True, Davis is afflicted with the original glamorous 'movie sickness,' the kind that can be predicted
down to the final symptoms, yet leaves the victim free to be glamorous and find the correct noble
postures to take on her way out. Yet, for dramatic truth at the character level Casey Robinson's
intelligent script and Bette Davis' performance hit the nail on the head.
Resume:
(spoiler) Condensed-drinking & headstrong Judith Traherne (Davis) jumps horses like a pro and lives
a unbridled flair of hunting, riding and partying on her New England estate. Trusted secretary Ann King
(Geraldine Fitzgerald) is also her to the fullest extent cobber, and together they take on the taunts of Judith's
unchangeable horse trainer, Michael O'Leary (Humphrey Bogart). But neurosurgeon Dr. Frederick Steele
(George Brent) postpones his
retreat to do research in the power to sit in on to Judith's problem – migraines, blurred spectre and
drubbing of sympathies. His operation buys her a few months of emblematic of-free living, but both he and Ann
withhold the correctness from Judith: Her prognosis is cold, and she's going to die.
In many ways Judith Traherne is a selfish pain. The entire world seems to revolve around her personal
daybook and she treats everyone in her life as if they were contract players and she the star.
She measures how important a party is by the number of dresses she throws on the floor before making
a choice and is so dismissive to her friends, we're surprised anyone will associate with her. The hitch
is that Bette Davis makes this impossible woman a likeable identification figure for practically
every woman alive. The vibrant woman is flawed but eventually moves to a position of greater
self-knowledge.
The opening stages of Judith's 'movie sickness' are fairly realistic. The neurological symptoms are
obvious but the bovine Dr. Steele (eternal costar for powerful females George Brent) frequently
tells people that he won't bother them with highly technical explanations. He complains about the
mortality rate for brain surgery, which in 1939 must have been pretty dismal. After the operation,
he has to watch as
Judith blithely walks about believing she's cured when we know she's living on borrowed time. It's
actually rather amusing, to see Brent staring at Davis as if her head were about to split open, like
Dr. Frankenstein wondering when the stitches will start falling out of his latest monster.
This is one of those movies in which poignancy is created by withholding vital information from
people. (Spoiler) Ann and the Doc conspire to let Judith think she's cured, so we get a dramatic
reversal every few minutes. Davis waxes enthusiastic about her new lease on life, while Ann and the
Doc shudder and look guilty. Then Judith gets the truth and goes on a wild bender which at first
gives the impression that she's sleeping with every man she meets. At least, that's what the
matrons think and what John Ridgeley makes a crack about until the good Doctor slugs him in the head.
(Gee, nobody talks about Ridgeley's blood clot and subsequent horrible death due to the good
doctor's powerful right hook.)
But it turns out that Judith has been a good girl after all. This is also the kind of movie where young
handsome research doctors fall madly in love with their patients, and they go off to find peace
together and learn simple rustic values – with a passel of servants to keep doing the work, of
course. Judith barges into Doc's bio lab, ruining any experiment he might be trying to do, but
the interruption is laughed off and in just a few weeks he cooks up a promising lead toward
curing 57 varieties of human sickness, or whatever. If he were a good Frankenstein, he'd be finding
a way to put Eleanor Roosevelt's brain in Judith Traherne's body.
It would all be dreck if it weren't for the conviction of Davis' performance. There's no denying that
in her key vehicles, she's everything – the production doesn't support Davis, she holds up the whole
show like a female Atlas. The (choose one) morbid/life-affirming ending is brilliant in its
simplicity. Thanks to the incredibly accurate timetable of death, Judith is able to find dignity by
facing the darkness all on her own. (spoiler spoiler) The most brilliant weepie touch is having
Judith send hubby away ignorant that she's already blind and sinking fast – a zillion women probably
debated whether that was indeed the right thing to do.
Among the actors designated to orbit The Star are Geraldine Fitzgerald, quietly concerned and a
barometer for dramatic typhoons to come; Ronald Reagan's forgettable playboy and Humphrey Bogart's
painful turn as a smart-talking Heathcliff of the tackle room. We can tell Davis is
a desperate woman the way she leads him to make advances, and then pushes him away. Yeah, he's
got the right hormones and she doesn't give a damn, but there are limits. I mean, he's on the
payroll. He's not even in the Blue Book.
Dark Victory
hits some things on the head. Judith's series of reactions (denial, rage,
blame, depression, acceptance?) resemble the standard sequence psychologists would later associate with
patients coming to terms with impending death. There's also something right about Judith's Earth Mother
response to doom, even though the details are a bit corny. She's planting flowers, petting the dogs
and bursting with Spring's joy, even on the way to the morgue. Davis makes the image worthy of the
romantic poets, and not just a morbid irony.
Warners' DVD of
Dark Victory
looks good but not perfect. It's billed as a new restoration but
the elements must be flawed because many scenes have a few errant light scratches – nothing critical,
but enough to show the film's age. The sound is very good, with Max Steiner's score making a strong
impact.
Film historians James Ursini and Paul Clinton provide an overview commentary with most of the known
info on Davis at this point in time, along with insights and opinions about the contemporary
attitudes toward death in movies and the film's treatment of medical industry – boy, those doctors
have a lot of time to wait exclusively on Judith! The featurette is a bit choppy and
uses film clips rather flippantly. As if running out of subject matter, a lot time is used to compare
Dark Victory
with the other big 1939 Oscar winners, showing several clips from
Gone
With the Wind
.
Dark Victory
was enormously popular on its own.
Now, Voyager
1942 / 117 min.
Starring
Bette Davis, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains, Gladys Cooper,
Bonita Granville
Cinematography
Sol Polito
Art Direction
Robert Haas
Blear Editor
Warren Low
Original Music
Max Steiner
Written by
Casey Robinson
from a novel by
Olive Higgins Prouty
Produced by
Hal B. Wallis
Directed by
Irving Rapper
Now, Voyager
is ground zero for the women's picture. It has everything to appeal to the
(presumably) romance-craved female mind: A condensation of the Ugly Duckling story, a tale of
empowerment wherein a persecuted woman overcomes abusive family members, and a sexy-sexless
account of sublimated passion that pays off in those elusive rewards that are supposed to be
superior to physical gratification. (Whew!)
Even better, Bette's character is the least flawed of the five women portrayed in this sampling
of pictures. She's not a self-centered ditz (
Skeffington
), deluded celebrity
(
The Star
), spoiled heiress (
Dark Victory
) or a femme fatale (
The Letter
).
Charlotte Vale starts off as a potential "Norma" Bates, and becomes an exemplary female role model.
Apereu:
Repressed and maltreated as the 'property' of a female parent (Gladys Cooper) who expects her
to be a society servant and nurse, horrid 'aunt' Charlotte Vale lives a life locked in her
reside, sneaking cigarettes and growing plenty. Older sister Lisa (Ilka Chase) comes to the liberate by
intervening with Dr. Jaquith (Claude Rains), a psychologist who cures Charlotte instantly by
liberating her from understanding tyranny. She takes a cruise to South America and falls in roger with
Jerry Durrance (Paul Henreid) an unhappy gentleman’s gentleman married to a reportedly dreadful and domineering wife;
Jerry has a repressed daughter very much like Charlotte. They part as friends and Charlotte returns
to the nightmare of her mother, who expects to dictate her adorn, manners, behavior and associates.
Elliot Livingston (John Loder) proposes marriage, but Charlotte drops that idea when she finds
Jerry again. His wife puts a relationship out of the question, but Charlotte has a secondary plan to find
love – to 'rescue' Jerry's daughter Tina (Janis Wilson) and enhance a second 'ghost wife' to him.
Not until
Psycho
did the movies come up with as potent a horror-mother as old Mrs. Vale; if
the Vale family had run a motel, it would be easy to see Charlotte in the Norman Bates role.
The domineering Mrs. Vale has run Charlotte halfway to the madhouse. There are laws against
imprisoning and torturing people, but not family members.
For some, getting into the spirit of
Now, Voyager
will be a tough sell. Charlotte
Vale starts out wearing two caterpillars for eyebrows and wears shapeless bags instead of
dresses; a brief visit to the country transforms her into a woman of the world in both looks
and personality. It may be laughable, but there's no denying that the right psychological environment
can produce effects that
feel
like the change that Charlotte undergoes; the emotions
are are correct even when the images are exaggerated.
Charlotte meets the perfect matinee lover, a hands-off gentleman with perfect manners, a sad story
and a faint foreign accent. In any other American film of '42, Jerry would be an axis spy. He doesn't
want to trouble Charlotte with his family problems, or at least he says so after sweeping
her off her feet every way except sexually. For sexual intimacy,
Now, Voyager
substitutes
a cigarette-swapping trick that many women have doubtless found equally satisfying …
it's the film's signature moment and the one that gets repeated ad infinitum in Golden-Age
Hollywood montages.
Everyone loves the scenes where Charlotte uses passive resistance to stand up to nasty mumsy.
Gladys Cooper's formidable battle-ax tries every ploy to bring daughter to heel, but Charlotte
stands her ground. (spoiler) A few negative responses is all it takes to shock mom into a heart
attack;
Double Indemnity
's Phyllis Dietrichson couldn't do better a better job of sweeping
the decks of inconvenient relatives. And the old
bat didn't even have time to change her will! It would be fun to invent a
noir
Now,
Voyager
where we "follow the money" – all that Vale cash going to the Jacquith institute – and
invert the good characters with the bad.
After walking through
emotional fire, Charlotte is no longer looking for a standard marriage. She throws over a suitable
applicant, opts to dedicate her money to Dr. Jacquith's clinic and dedicates her personal attention to
Jerry's unloved daughter. This part is a little haywire, starting from the moment that the clinic
staffer allows one disturbed patient (a minor, no less) to be escorted off the grounds with an
ex-disturbed patient with no proven supervisory experience. If Tina Durrance had so much as skinned
a knee, the lawsuits and indictments could shut down the whole hospital! (Today, the media would
presume something even kinkier was going on, especially if the hidden Vale-Durrance relationship got out.)
But it all turns out for the good, and
Now, Voyager
doesn't concoct a truly fantastic
ending where the unseen evil Mrs. Durrance (Hm, why are we taking Jerry's word that
she's
the guilty party?) gets hit by a bus and leaves marriage open to the two chaste lovers. The film's
Things to Come
- inflected
ending chooses instead an impossibly noble finale that melds with the stars.
Now, Voyager
is
the perfect distillation of narrative themes and romantic elements to attract the female audience
in 1942.
Bette Davis glows in this super-vehicle. The contrast with her former doormouse self might be risible,
but the actress certainly looks great as Charlotte Vale, second edition. This women's fantasy
has retained almost all of its original effect. Henreid demonstrates the proper continental smoothness
and Claude Rains is underused in a 'dependable guy' role. Gladys Cooper must have needed some stiff
drinks to unwind after a long day playing such an uptight monster. Bonita Granville is the thoughtless
snip of a niece that Charlotte eventually triumphs over. The rest of the support is seamless, with
Janis Wilson unaccountably unbilled in her important role as Tina Durrance. She goes through some
possible nicknames for Charlotte and finally settles on Camille. Why not Hush Hush Sweet?
Warners' DVD of
Now, Voyager
has been newly remastered from prime quality elements – no
longer are many scenes scratched. The famous final 'two cigarettes' scene always had this big gouge
running through it – you can see it clearly on the 100 years montage still shown on TCM occasionally.
Now it is as clear as Charlotte Vale's conscience.
The audio also sounds phenomenal, which is especially good for Max Steiner's classic weepy score.
Sneaking in on violin, his main theme no doubt brought out handkerchiefs by the hundreds.
This disc has no docu and no commentary. There is a trailer and one very special extra, a set of
original scoring session music cues complete with orchestral waits and downbeats. They will surely
be a selling point with Max Steiner fans.
The Letter
1940 /95 min.
Starring
Bette Davis, Herbert Marshall, James Stephenson,
Frieda Inescort, Gale Sondergaard
Cinematography
Tony Gaudio
Skilfulness Direction
Carl Jules Weyl
Video Editor
George Amy, Warren Low
Original Music
Max Steiner
Written by
Howard Koch
from a play by
W. Somerset Maugham
Produced by
Hal B. Wallis, Jack L. Warner
Directed by
William Wyler
The Letter
has an advantage over the other titles in this collection in that it began as
a serious Somerset Maugham play and not as a vehicle for the talents of Bette Davis. It's also
directed by William Wyler, a major talent who brought taste and discretion to all of his films.
The tropical setting makes the movie resemble less a Warners star vehicle than an exotic
Paramount Von Sternberg picture.
An almost supernatural tone arises from unspoken cultural rifts; one may escape one
kind of justice but other forces will rebalance the scales. Davis is spectacular as a small-minded
woman with a unreasoning sense of pride; the Old Hollywood system did well by finding such worthy
roles for her.
Synopsis:
Leslie Crosbie (Davis) kills a 'family friend' during a late-evening
assail, starting a extreme series of events in the rubber colony of Malaya. Store Robert
(Herbert Marshall) is horrified to learn that Leslie was fending off an attack and tied more
disturbed to find in sight that colonial law requires a full hearing of the matter. All goes smoothly
until the Crosbies' lawyer Howard Joyce (James Stephenson) receives dispatch of a compromising despatch,
now in the possession of the victim's Asian wife, Mrs. Hammond (Gale Sondergaard). Leslie's story
soon begins to unravel.
The Letter
is a class act from one end to another. It is a good example of a melodrama that
precedes the officially sanctioned period of American
film noir
yet contains the seeds of
a number of prominent
noir
themes. Although not as sumptuous as the atmosphere of Nicholas
Musuraca's cinematography for Jacques Tourneur's
I Walked With a Zombie
, Tony Gaudio's
tropical night moods carry a definite
noir
flair. A baleful moonlight
casts patterns through blinds and throws long shadows on the ground. Davis' Leslie Crosbie senses the
moon's silent disapproval and ultimately obeys its call to meet her fate in the garden of her
plantation house.
(This is all a spoiler, there's no choice) The character changes in Maugham's play are both extreme
and subtle. Leslie's world of privilege collapses when she loses control of her lies. Her breezy
self-assurance when explaining her 'accident' is initally taken as evidence of her innocence, but
even she learns how important the truth is after seeing what it does to her gullible husband Robert
(Herbert Marshall in the film's thankless role). Leslie feigns weakness when we know she's as tough
as nails; it is no trouble for her to cook a full dinner after shooting a man to death and before
leaving to turn herself into the authorities.
Davis has the screen all to herself for two extended speeches, the faked confession
and its later truthful counterpart. She's the focus of the movie but Maugham's tale could easily revolve
around James Stephenson's wonderful turn as the compromised defense attorney, Howard Joyce. Several
'weak' protagonists in later
films noir
would be men trapped by
manipulating women, such as an assistant D.A. in
The File on Thelma Jordon
. Joyce feels
compelled to break the law by retrieving the incriminating letter, and we can see him shrink in
stature – he no longer respects himself.
The Letter
handles its racial theme with uncommon sensitivity. Victor Sen Yung's opportunistic
law clerk is a cagey opponent that Joyce cannot abuse, despite the man's cultural lack of tact.
We immediately realize that Mrs. Hammond (played with icy hatred by Gale Sondergaard) loved her
murdered husband. She knows that there will be no justice, that Leslie will not be punished by
the colonial authorities. As far as the English are concerned, an Asian woman's marriage to an
Anglo is an unpleasantness to be loathed. The 'inscrutable Asian' context notwithstanding,
Mrs. Hammond's actions are completely understandable as the reaction of a woman who knows she'll
not be listened to or respected. As in many cultural conflicts, what looks
like demonic violence to the colonials is simply justice from older codes.
(spoiler spoiler) Much discussion in older writings about
The Letter
refers to the final
murder and the compromised ending. It's altogether possible that in the Maugham original a miserable
life might be Leslie's only punishment, but we're reminded that the production code demanded
retribution for murder. Not only does Leslie pay (thereby making Mrs. Hammond behave like a fiendish
Dragon Lady stereotype), but a weak hint is given that Mrs. Hammond will not escape justice either.
Neither change spoils the power of this superior drama.
Actor Cecil Kellaway is barely seen in the movie but is given substantial billing in the cast. It looks
as though
The Letter
went through some serious scene trimming on the way to a final cut.
Warners' DVD of
The Letter
is the same disc released just a few months ago. The picture
quality is excellent and Max Steiner's careful score well-rendered. The disc carries two separate
Lux Radio theater presentations from 1941 and 1944. Both star Davis and Marshall and the first has
Stephenson as well, allowing Davis fans to make close comparisons.
An interesting but frustrating extra is an alternate ending sequence, billed as 'recently discovered.'
It's a replay of the last few minutes of the film but is not radically different than what
happens in the standard cut. Davis dies the same way and Sondergaard still meets up with a uniformed
officer. The differences are so slight that we would have appreciated a guide to tell us what it was
all about. Perhaps the Warners' people aren't certain either, or Savant didn't see something that
should have been obvious.
The five-disc
The Bette Davis Collection
will be an attractive buy for the fans of filmdom's
greatest movie star actress. This is the backbone of her Warners work, leaving out a bushel of
early career highlights that could bear a second box (
Dangerous, Of Human Bondage
) and
acting face-offs with other big Warners stars (
The Old Maid, Old Acquaintance, Deception
).
I'm fond of
Juarez
but realize that it's not part of her core work. Next up is Warners' bid
for equal time,
The Joan Crawford Collection
On a scale of Excellent, Good, Blonde, and Flawed,
The Bette Davis Collection
rates:
Movies: But for
Video: Worthy or virtually but for the fact that in every case
Sound: But for
Supplements:
Commentaries on MS and DV; inteview featurettes on MS, DV and TS; remarkably music
cues on NV, disseminate shows and alternate ending on TL.
Packaging: 5 Bottle up cases in credit card bottle up
Reviewed: June 5, 2005 ![]()
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