A Walk in the Spring Rain

A Walk In The Spring Rain has Fritz Weaver and Ingrid Bergman as a college professor of political science going on sabbatical in the Great Smokey Mountains of Eastern Tennessee. Him for peace and quiet for a year so he can publish rather than perish, she for a little time away from being a mom, grandmother, and babysitter not necessarily in that order.

They take a cottage and the local handyman is Anthony Quinn doing a Smokey Mountain version of Zorba the Greek. He's married to psalm singing Virginia Gregg and she's no fun. Quinn has a son in Tom Holland who like his dad takes his action where he finds it.

The educated Bergman intrigues Quinn and he gives all kinds of hints as to his availability. But this one is doomed for all kinds of reasons.

I'm all for romantic stories with older protagonists and Quinn and Bergman fit the bill. The stars get good support from the rest of the cast. This is Bergman and Quinn's second film together and they acquit themselves well.

Still it won't be listed among the best for either.

Admirers of classic films will no doubt enjoy seeing Anthony Quinn reunited with Ingrid Bergman, his co-star from 1964's "The Visit"; they're an interesting screen match, but here, in 1970, with handyman Quinn talking in a southern drawl and matronly Bergman playing a professor's wife living on a farm in Tennessee, one cannot help but feel a sense of central dislocation. Bergman's husband (American actor Fritz Weaver) takes a year off from teaching to write a textbook, but instead stares at his typewriter, pipe firmly stuck between his teeth (his wife isn't frigid, but he is). It's no wonder then that Bergman enjoys Quinn's advances, but since they're both married--and have problems with their selfish children besides--it's hardly a December-age romance. Dreary melodrama, adapted from the book by Rachel Maddux, with clumsy exposition and even clumsier attempts to modernize an old formula. Charles Lang's cinematography is a visually jarring mix of location shots, back projection and ugly sets, while miscast Quinn is overly-friendly and solicitous (he makes the audience as uncomfortable as Ingrid's chilly spouse). While it's good to see the two stars together again, this Smoky Mountains scenario is a drag: colorlessly staged, poorly-conceived, predictable and depressing. ** from ****

This is an excellent film which I caught accidentally on a rainy afternoon on cable. A professor and his wife head to the appalachians for his 1-year sabbatical. They rent a house from Will Cade (Anthony Quinn), an overly-friendly, hospitable country bumpkin. Will from the very beginning makes comments about how pretty the professor's wife is, and that's just the beginning. While the absent-minded professor is lost in his own world, concerned about his career and completing his book, Will Cade seems to just have too much time on his hands and spends it making the professor's wife more familiar with the wonders of Appalachia. He brings her flowers from the countryside, buys her animals to keep her company, takes her to see the beautiful scenery. None of these are overt passes, but they all could be interpreted either way, which is part of the genius of the film: on the one hand, Will Cade really is doing a lot of things for this woman and anyone would be touched by them; he is extremely sincere. But on the other, there is something about him which makes you uncomfortable, maybe his over-familiarity with people he doesn't know. In this way, it's similar to Cape Fear since it indirectly says a lot about social class--the professor is overly intellectual, but passionless and emotionally handicapped, unable to think of others besides himself; while the country bumpkin is not wordly, but very genuine and giving. There are two other subplots involved a daughter of the professor and his wife, and the Will Cade's son, with whom he has conflicts which are never fully explained. Eventually, the woman gives in and kisses Cade, and I won't give away the rest of the story. But the mood of the film is very well set. There is a great scene at an appalachian country fair where Will is in rare form and the professor is clearly uncomfortable in this "culture" which he doesn't consider a "culture". The whole story is set in this haunting, appalachian environment, which is how it is similar to "Deliverance". There is that fantasy which urban dwellers have of the simple, personal country life, and then there's the in-breeding, backwardness, and so-on they are repulsed by. I highly recommend this film.

First review above slams the people of the hills of Tennessee, assuming that they are backward, in-bred people. It's too late now, but I would have objected strenuously to that misguided garbage. The reviewer probably never met a real hillbilly, and no, "Deliverance" is not about real people, it's a fictional account invented in Hollywood. Please, you idiots, stop slamming mountain people. You don't even know any.

The problem I see with the movie is casting Anthony Quinn as a mountain man. I never saw any backgrounder that said he was an immigrant from Italy, Greece, or Mexico who moved to the mountains. With the character name they gave him, I assume they were seriously trying to palm Anthony off as a Tennessean. I did notice that they never actually showed his lips moving when he was delivering his lines: Anthony's accent wasn't identifiable as such, but it certainly wasn't TN mountains. I may well be missing something. But, one thing I'm not missing is the outright prejudice, and even hate, I see for the people of the mountains. Shame!

A good-looking soap opera buoyed by veteran star power with a rather relentlessly melodious score by Elmer Bernstein and plush photography by Charles Lang; which when not taking in the vibrant Smoky Mountain local colour is concentrating upon the noble features of glamorous grannie, the eternally radiant Ingrid Bergman.

She's stuck with dry, pipe-smoking hubby Fritz Weaver (on sabbatical to write what sounds like a spectacularly dreary academic book), when fate sends her as her handyman sensitive hunk Anthony Quinn, who declares "You're full of love, ain't you Miss Roger?". What follows manages to be both melodramatic yet curiously passionless.