Count Your Blessings

I count my blessings that I have learned to stay away from Deborah Kerr movies except out of morbid fascination with what moviegoers could possibly have seen in her.

I count my blessing that the PVR makes it possible to record bad movies, zip through the terrible parts, stop, delete, and then move on to better movies, most not starring Deborah Kerr.

I count my blessings that for all its failings, Hollywood has consistently made far, far better movies than the British.

Oh, the movie: Kerr is a frigid soccer mom, from what I can see. Some Italian guy I've never heard of plays the French husband. They have all the chemistry of oil and vinegar. He goes away. He comes back. They find out they hate each other, or something. I think I fell into an irreversible coma.

Grace Allingham (Deborah Kerr) is an English woman struggling on the home front during WWII. French officer Charles Edouard de Valhubert (Rossano Brazzi) has a message for her from her boyfriend Hugh Palgrave. The message is nothing much and the French man is terribly rude and aggressive. It's a short romance and a quickie marriage after only 3 days.

Negging is a way of enticing gorgeous females by praising them with little put-downs. Apparently, it works on some women. It definitely does not work for romantic movies especially rom-coms. I simply don't understand the theory of it as movie writing. It's a horrible meet-cute. There is nothing funny about it although again, it may work on some people. The female in question should be uppity and bringing her down could be funny. That's not the case for Deborah Kerr. None of this is funny. Nor is it romantic. I don't get them as a movie pairing.

Sometimes you watch films for others, and this was one of them. I thought it might lighten darker days, but it had the effect of making me very depressed. Not about its content but about why it was made at all. Deborah Kerr in her most true blue way was terrible to watch, filled with empty mannerisms and surrounded by greed and wealth. She could be a good actress and a mediocre one, and this performance was truly bad. She marries a very rich Frenchman played by Rossano Brazzi ( the Italian accent made this nonsense ) and they have a young son who should never have been let out of the playpen!!! He complicates their lives and plays with a small Guillotine ( don't even think about it ) and the one good actor, Patricia Medina is given a rotten role of no consequence. There is also Maurice Chevalier being as always himself, and seemingly incapable of doing anything else as Brazzi's father. Accents clash again, even topping Kerr's excruciating high-pitched and immitating badly the Queen of England's voice. Negulesco directed some stinkers at the end of his career and this is one of them. Snobbish and unendurable this film grinds to a halt in one of the most absurd scenes I have ever seen in what is sometimes laughingly called the cinema. I recommed it to all those who kick expensive furniture ( as Kerr does ) and who say, " I am not French!! I am English, English, English ", and let them endure this travesty of cinematic self-indulgence.

Englishwoman gets swept up by a Frenchman during the war. They marry and he is gone nine years. He comes back, meets his son and they encounter his "distraction" during the interim. Their mores clash; they talkety talk and somehow it all comes right in the end.

Not a bad story. Anything can happen in the movies, right? Not this time. It played out that way, but nothing ever "happened" in this. It needed artificial respiration, but never got it. It just comes off artificial.

There are beautiful locations and sets. You think -- surely with Deborah Kerr. You think -- surely with Rossano Brazzi. There are attractiveness and talent available ... But it never connects in this very lame presentation. Brazzi just plods along with the program. Ms. Kerr tries to infuse enthusiasm several times, but, well, I was embarrassed for her. Chevalier approaches it bravely, just chattering along obliviously.

A reviewer excuses the actors and the director, but states "... many inconsequential, unbelievable, and spiritless emotional reactions, even in potentially dramatic situations. There is absolutely no chemistry between the leads." Actually, those elements are all exactly the province of the actors and director. How does a bad script keep actors from having chemistry between them, or from rendering appropriate portrayals? And, isn't the director supposed to be taking the pulse of things as it goes along? Where was he with the pervading false note in this? Was he hampered by the producer or someone else?

While Ms. Kerr is a gifted, beautiful and enduring actress, she doesn't pull it off every time. She can over-emote and requires some rein on that. Brazzi seems about the same in everything. No doubt, he is a gorgeous specimen, but his abilities are such that he can't carry it on his own. They could have both used some able directorial assistance here.

What happened? What didn't happen? Oh well, heed a warning and spare yourself. If you do, you can count that a blessing.

Nancy Mitford's novel "The Blessing" becomes somewhat uneasy romantic vehicle for Deborah Kerr and Rossano Brazzi, neither of whom are especially adept at light comedy. During the London blitz, an English girl (already somewhat engaged) shares a whirlwind courtship with a brash, handsome (and fabulously rich) French Captain, whom she promptly marries; after a three-day honeymoon, he receives his 'orders' and leaves for duty, disappearing from her life for nine years. Upon the Captain's return, the couple's reunion is strained by the child she had in his absence, an impertinent lad who hopes to keep the squabbling lovebirds apart. In the key role of the son (nicknamed Siggy!), little Martin Stephens is too intense for this featherweight scenario (although this same intensity would serve him well in 1961's "The Innocents", wherein he also co-starred alongside Deborah Kerr). As for the grown-ups, Kerr and Brazzi seem typecast in their roles: she as a prudish standard bearer, he as a Euro cad. Kerr's early fidgeting (and her eventual anger over being forgotten) are well-wrought; however, the chemistry she shares with Maurice Chevalier as Brazzi's uncle is far stronger than Kerr's connection to her leading man! The production is certainly attractive, and there are some interesting exchanges of dialogue questioning why women hope to change the men they marry (and, if wives are willing to make changes to suit their husbands, why can't the husbands do the same?). Not a smooth mix of moods, and with stagy action from lead-footed director Jean Negulesco, but far from terrible. **1/2 from ****