The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry

The setting is a small New England town where the residents are, according to the disembodied narrator, "not much different from yourselves", which means, of course, that they're perfectly willing to contemplate murder when a loved one becomes an insufferable nuisance. George Sanders plays an otherwise kindly bachelor forced to take drastic measures after a too-possessive younger sister spoils his plans to wed a beautiful, sophisticated big city girl. His plot backfires, naturally, and the consequences proved to be so downbeat that a bogus Little Nemo epilogue had to be added by studio censors. It never was a major motion picture, but when seen today is certainly an enjoyable and well-crafted diversion.

The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry (1945)

George Sanders is a wonder of subtlety, and he rules this movie almost from secrecy he's so quiet and nondescript to a T. He lives in a small town with all the usual small town ways, including insularity. There are three women around him: a plain sister who is simple and sweet and loves him, a beautiful sister who is obsessed with keeping him a bachelor, and a newcomer, a New Yorker who is in town because of the fabric factory that dominates the town.

This is pretty much the set up, and it's plenty because it is the subtle and not so subtle interactions and cross purposes of these three women and the somewhat hapless Mr. Sanders that makes the movie. It's really funny and sad and romantic in its own quirky way. It never loses its way, and the types that each women represent get developed with clarity enough to make you really want what Sanders wants. And doesn't get.

The director Robert Siodmak would be famous soon for a series of great film noirs, but it was his next film that seems to mark a transition, "Spiral Staircase." In that, the photography soars and the sinister aspects surrounding ordinary people add a level of intrigue and fear that this movie simply doesn't want to have. And so you might in some ways find it a little plain, a little sweet without the hard edge that the nasty sister is meant to alone supply. Still, she convinces me just fine, and I rather like the confident New York woman (a little like Bacall in this way).

It does come around to Sanders, the man who committed suicide with a note saying he was just a little bored with life. You can feel that in him here, remarkably. He's so perfectly weary, and yet rather content still. In fact, one treat in the middle of things is him playing piano (he does play) and singing. A remarkable man and unusual actor, worth seeing here.

I strongly disagree with Norm Vogel's comments regarding Leonard Maltin's remark about "censorship" and the ending. Without giving the ending away, I can only say that because of the strict censorship code that existed in 1945, the ending HAD TO BE CHANGED to conform with the rules involving crime and punishment. Thus, the film is weakened in straying from the original ending that was used in the stage play on which this is based--and which had more impact.

George Sanders gives a quietly effective performance as the harried man torn between two sisters, one of whom has a neurotic stranglehold on his affections (Geraldine Fitzgerald). Interesting melodrama given taut direction by Robert Siodmak. Ella Raines is effective in a sympathetic role and Geraldine Fitzgerald is fascinating as a hypochondriac, whining sister who makes Harry's life miserable.

Again, Leonard Maltin was right--censorship had everything to do with the ending.

The movie does a good job looking at both sides of small town life. Poor Harry, he's essentially a prisoner of his upbringing and the closeness of his small mill town community. Middle- aged, he's still a child in many ways. Lacking independent judgement, he depends on what's expected of him by others, especially his clinging younger sister Lettie (Fitzgerald). And, of course, there are the gossip mongers always ready to enforce the small town norms. In many ways, he's already an old man, but not resentful of his dull existence. After all, there's the fellow-good-feeling he shares with the guys in their informal singing group, plus the big family house and his good standing within the community. His may be a narrow existence, but it's not without compensations.

But then Deborah (Rains) (note the contrast in the girls' names—the provincial 'Lettie' and 'Hester' versus the uptown 'Deborah') enters his life. She's from New York, bringing with her the sophistication and independent thinking of a career-minded city girl. Surprisingly, she takes a liking to Harry, probably because he's so innocently appealing compared with the city wolves she's used to. And Harry's drawn to her independent ways and outside perspective. So, it's a budding romance despite the differences.

But this is where the movie really gets strange, especially for the 1940's. Lovely younger sister Lettie seems to have more than a sisterly attachment to brother Harry. Instead, it's one loaded with the forbidden. Thus, she views Deborah as not just a disruptive influence on Harry's settled life, but as a rival to his affections. Naturally, the script has to play this hint of incestuous attachment in a very careful way, given the prevailing Production Code of the time. Still, the implication is clear, thanks mainly to Fitzgerald's excellent nuanced performance. In turn, it's hard at times to read Harry's feelings toward Lettie. Nonetheless he's always ready to respond to her faked illnesses that she uses to manipulate him.

So now Harry is faced with a disruptive conflict—will it be Lettie or Deborah. Each is pulling in a different direction. In fact, the scenes between the two rivals are deliciously played by Rains and Fitzgerald, their smouldering dislike carefully concealed under a polite exterior. Then, there's one particularly decisive symbolic scene between Harry and Deborah on the hilltop when both finally tire of Lettie's obstructionism. There Deborah invites Harry to leave the narrow confines of the town below and go with her to New York to be married. Harry surveys the town, the only home he has ever known, and agrees to go. This is one of the few outdoor scenes of the film. But then it had to be outdoors in order to catch the hill-top symbolism as Harry finally manages to break out of his narrow confinement with an independent judgement. It's also meaningful that these scenes are inter-cut with church service scenes where the community has happily congregated, but from which, Harry is no longer a part. The question now is what will Lettie do since it appears Deborah has won. Also, now we know it's not the community that's holding Harry back, rather it's Lettie's manipulative attachment.

The movie has several unnerving twists that suggest a hand of fate hanging over Harry's head. And had the story been allowed to end where it appears to-- with a severe Lettie standing in the doorway—Harry's fate would have been sealed in a memorably ironic fashion, while Lettie would have gone down as one of filmdom's most perverse creations.

For some reason, the movie's more obscure than I think it should be. Perhaps it's the rather daring theme or perhaps it's that dreadful Code imposed ending (I'm glad producer Harrison quit Universal because of the travestied ending to an otherwise fine film). Anyway, if I were casting Harry's part the cynical, self-assured Sanders would never occur to me. Nonetheless, he's excellent in a highly subdued role that I'm sure really challenged him as an actor. It's Sanders as I've never seen him before. Then too, I suspect it's no accident that the lovely- looking Rains and Fitzgerald resemble one another, adding another possible dimension to the incest angle.

All in all, the movie's an excellent psychological drama, well-acted, and exceptional for its time period, despite the unfortunate last few minutes.

Geraldine Fitzgerald is the sister from hell in "The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry," a 1945 film directed by Robert Siodmak, who knows a thing or two about suspense. The film stars George Sanders, Ella Raines, Moyna Macgill (Angela Lansbury's mother), and Sara Algood.

The Quincy family, a brother (Sanders) and two sisters (Macgill and Fitzgerald) live in an big, old house - all that was left to them by their parents. Harry is the head designer of patterns in a cloth family; his sister Lettie (Fitzgerald) is a professional invalid; and his other sister, Hester (Macgill), is a rather silly, complaining woman who feels unappreciated.

When a New York firm comes to town to look at the cloth factory, Harry meets and falls in love with Deborah (Raines) and announces they are going to be married. Hester is thrilled beyond belief for him; Lettie, on the other hand, is very upset. Deborah has her number immediately and is determined not to allow Lettie to break up her relationship with Harry.

Lettie and Hester are supposed to move into another house, but that doesn't happen. On the day Harry and Deborah are to leave for Boston to be married, Lettie has one of her "attacks" and Harry refuses to leave town. Deborah realizes that he will never leave his sisters and walks out of his life. When Harry finds out that Lettie's inability to find a suitable house after six months and her illness were just manipulations to drive Deborah away, something in him snaps.

Based on a play, this film proved somewhat controversial. Censorship would not allow the original ending, so five different endings were filmed and shown in preview. The ending that was chosen is derivative, drawing on a device used successfully in the past.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I really loved the way it ended, in spite of some people seeing it as a cop-out. I liked it because of my sympathy for Harry, so well portrayed by George Sanders, who was cast against type here.

Geraldine Fitzgerald gives a fantastic performance as the awful Lettie, an unbelievable shrew. Fitzgerald was perfect. Macgill is excellent as well, likable because she sincerely wants the best for Harry, and annoying because she's a whiner. Ella Raines made a lovely Deborah.

Very entertaining - I loved it!