The Man Who Loved Redheads

John Justin plays a wealthy Brit who has never forgotten the redhead he met at a party when he was a teenager. He marries and goes along in life until he spots a redhead on a London street, arranges for a tryst at a friends house and embarks on a lifetime of meeting a succession of redheads roughly from 1917 to 1955.

Charming comedy keeps it all light and bubbly and features a solid performance by Justin and a super performance by Moira Shearer, who plays all the redheads. Shearer plays the teenager Sylvia, the cockney secretary Daphne, the Russian ballerina Olga, and the model Colette. It's quite a showcase for Shearer, including a lengthy sequence from the Sleeping Beauty ballet. Roland Culver plays Justin's jovial friend. Gladys Cooper appears toward the end of the film to add the perfect ending touch of irony. Denholm Elliott plays the son. Beautifully filmed in Technicolor, the entire film has the look and feel of something from Powell and Pressburger.

The new title alone of this adaptation of Terence Rattigan's 1950 West End hit 'Who is Sylvia?' made me think of Michael Powell; since it boasts Powell's protege Moira Shearer as four different redheads in the life of one man, compared to Deborah Kerr's three in 'The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp' (with which it also shares colour photography by Georges Périnal and the presence of Roland Culver, here repeating his role from Rattigan's play).

Sadly this particular soufflé gets little chance to rise under the leaden direction of Harold French, and John Justin is plainly no Roger Livesey. But there are odd moments as narrated by Kenneth More - particularly the brief shot of Sylvia near the end - that actually achieve the touching quality it aspires to and which 'Blimp' achieved throughout.

This engaging and witty production was star Moira Shearer's favourite of her film roles. She shines playing the four variations of 'Sylvia' though, perhaps inevitably, is most at home as Olga, the ballerina, with her performance of the Pas de deux from The Sleeping Beauty Act 3 one of the highlights. As is her delectably danced Charleston. Her titian tresses are illuminated by Georges Perinal's photography, while the otherwise preponderance of pastel shades accentuate the slight unreality of the proceedings. Kenneth More, whose charm and humour come over as the narrator, would have been preferable to John Justin who nevertheless doesn't do a bad job. Several enjoyable performances include Roland Culver, who never puts a foot wrong playing the aware and insouciant Oscar and Harry Andrews as the unflappable, worldly-wise butler, Williams. Patricia Cutts contributes a delightful cameo as Bubbles, the dizzy flapper, as do also Moyra Fraser as the eccentric Ethel and Joan Benham as a haute couture model. Gladys Cooper is especially memorable in the final scene.

This is a film based upon Terence Rattigan's play WHO IS SYLVIA, which in turn takes its title from both the original poem by William Shakespeare and its setting to music as a song by Schubert (a song with which my grandfather, a baritone, won much admiration). Rattigan also wrote the screenplay. This is definitely not one of Rattigan's happier moments. The film is ridiculously dated and corny, bordering on a travesty. The story is a simple one: the 'hero' played by John Justin fell in love at first sight at the age of 14 with a girl named Sylvia who had red hair and blue eyes, but he then lost contact with her. For the rest of his life he cheated on his wife and had a mews house in London for trysts with a succession of redheads who reminded him of Sylvia. Pretty silly, really. Harry Andrews plays a butler, Roland Culver has a jolly time playing a pal of Justin's who does the same sort of thing, though not with redheads, Denholm Elliott plays an earnest young son of the older Justin, and Kenneth More does a lively job of satirical narration (we do not see him). Gladys Cooper comes in towards the end with her usual assured style. It is Moira Shearer, seven years on from THE RED SHOES (1948), who plays all the redheads in succession, culminating in one who is a Russian ballet dancer named Olga. As Olga, we watch a great deal of Shearer dancing SLEEPING BEAUTY. Indeed, so much does the camera dwell on Shearer as a dancer, that one nearly forgets the film entirely. (By the way, the set and costume designs for that ballet production are simply appalling, quite a disaster.) This was the last feature film directed by Harold French, who by the way lived to be 100 and died in 1997. He made the excellent UNPUBLISHED STORY thirteen years earlier (1942, see my review). It is a pity that this film is based entirely upon wholly obsolete social codes of a bygone era, that its comedy is tepid, and that it is just not very good.

The theme of this film,namely a man who has an obsession about redheads was not very original when made.It was particularly common in the forties.Why even The life and death of Colonel Blimp has this as one of its narrative threads. I wonder if the narration by Kenneth More was in the script or added later.It certainlyvdoes little to add to this film.