Bette Davis Carries “The Corn is Green” 1945

Emlyn Williams' play, "The Corn is Green," is based on the Welsh writer's beginnings. Bette Davis is Miss Moffat, a teacher who mentors John Dall's miner, Morgan Evans.

 

Though old-fashioned and sentimental, the classic story of The Corn is Green is well-acted and heart-felt. What’s especially noteworthy is that it’s based upon playwright/actor Emlyn Williams own life.

Emlyn Williams' "The Corn is Green" was a stage success first.

The London version of the play starred Williams himself as the Welsh student who struggles to lift himself up from the coal mines. Dame Sybil Thorndike played his mentor, the strong-minded teacher, Miss Moffat. A hit, The Corn is Green then came to Broadway in 1940, with Ethel Barrymore a rousing success as the teacher, and Richard Waring as the miner/student, Morgan. When WB snapped up the rights, it was no surprise that their first lady of drama, Bette Davis, would play Miss Moffat. Ironically, Waring, who played Bette's brother in Mr. Skeffington, missed out on Morgan because he was serving in WWII.

Bette Davis is modern-thinking, practical Miss Moffat, who opens a school in a Welsh village.

It was noted that at 36, Bette was 15 to 20 years too young for the spinster teacher. But Davis had already played "older" a number of times, so audiences didn't mind. I recall James Agee's famous review, declaring that Bette had started acting "first lady-ish" in her roles, to which there was some truth. Still, given what was to come, Bette as Miss Moffat is one of her last restrained performances, which she brings her usual intelligence, empathy, plus brisk humor. Davis also chose some of her favorite crew to help her create Miss Moffat: Orry-Kelly for the padded costumes; Perc Westmore for the subtle “older” makeup; Sol Polito for cinematography; and one-time favorite director Irving Rapper, who Bette now clashed with. Bette was correct in one of her beefs: the Welsh lads and school kids sing like heavenly choirs, instead of small town folk.

Joan Lorring & John Dall in what looks to be the WB cafeteria.

It's ironic that the young stars, John Dall and Joan Lorring, received best supporting actor and actress Oscar nominations in the year Bette got shut out. Both praised Bette for helping them as newcomers with their roles. While they perform far better as their characters mature from flighty teens, Bette is the backbone of The Corn is Green. I can see why Dall never made the top tier in Hollywood. Now it's fashionable to say that’s because he was gay, but frankly, he just didn't have leading man looks or personality, and seemed more suited to villain roles. Joan Lorring's Bessie is such an insufferable ditz, and when she finally gets to show some bite in the last act, she’s tarted out like a Somerset Maugham slattern. 

Joan Lorring is a teen vixen who distracts John Dall's student in "The Corn is Green."

And why Bette wasn’t nominated for The Corn is Green? The prestige film got mostly good reviews and was a solid hit at the box office. Back then, the studios typically put their Oscar votes behind their “big” picture and its stars. For this year, WB’s money was on Joan Crawford’s colossal comeback in Mildred Pierce. And don’t think that Bette didn’t take notice!

WB always liked to blow its own horn, but while "Green" did bring in some green,
it wasn't the smash that "Mildred Pierce" was that same year.

Nigel Bruce does his usual blustering bit as the squire, and Mildred Dunnock seems impossibly young here. The supporting cast performs their roles well: Rhys Williams, Rosalind Ivan, Arthur Shields, and William Roy.

Not sure why some critics zero in on the sets of "The Corn is Green."
This was common during Hollywood's golden era, especially during the war years.

Often commented is how stage-bound The Corn is Green looks. Well, this was the '40s WWII era, so a trip to Wales was out of the question. Also, WB was one of the most frugal studios, so it was considered more economical to build a lavish set. Frankly, the story is so sentimental that the artifice fits right in.

Emlyn Williams as an actor.

Emlyn Williams paid it forward
as a mentor to Richard Burton later in life.

Just as Emlyn had his Miss Moffat, Williams was a mentor and life-long friend to fellow Welshman Richard Jenkins. Richard was actually adopted by his true mentor, teacher Philip Burton. When I watch The Corn is Green, I think of how such gestures of help amidst the poverty of Wales must have seemed miraculous. Watching this version of The Corn is Green is worthwhile for the story, Bette Davis, and WB’s skilled studio filmmaking.

One of Bette Davis' pet peeves was when WB would try
to sex up her costume movies by selling it as a hot romance.

FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 

Check it out & join!  https://www.facebook.com/groups/178488909366865/

As Miss Moffat, Bette Davis offers one of her best sympathetic performances.

Now, Voyager 1942

Bette Davis in her greatest sympathetic role, as Charlotte Vale, in 1942's 'Now, Voyager.'

Warner Brothers’ most famous slogan for their top star, Bette Davis, stuck with her: “Nobody’s as good as Bette when she’s bad!” However, Now, Voyager is proof that nobody’s as good as Bette when she’s “good,” as well.

Bette's critics claim that Davis only shines when playing showy villainesses. True, some of Bette’s very best roles were bad to the bone, like Of Human Bondage, Jezebel, The Letter, The Little Foxes, and Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?

Bette Davis as browbeaten and beetle-browed old maid Charlotte Vale.

Now, Voyager shows that Davis could be just as brilliant playing a sympathetic, complex role. Bette’s Charlotte Vale goes from a neurotic spinster to a stylish but insecure socialite to finally, a self-assured, independent woman. Davis takes Vale through an emotional minefield: a monster mother, a kind but married lover, and a rich but dull fiancée. And Davis’ character evolves every step of the way. Even after her “cure,” Charlotte is still uncertain, a voyager in uncharted waters. Had this been a MGM production, with Joan Crawford or Norma Shearer, Charlotte Vale would have been fine and dandy after her therapy and makeover!

Paul Henreid as Jerry meets Bette Davis' Charlotte Vale on an ocean cruise. Yes, their journey becomes romantic!

Though Now, Voyager’s plot is pure soap, the story still resonates with emotional truth and empathy. Bette Davis once wrote that she never received as much fan mail as she did for Now, Voyager, with people writing about their own tyrannical family members.

Now, Voyager is classic '40s cinema, yet certain attitudes are forward-thinking. Though some critics at the time complained that the finale reeked of soapy self-sacrifice, Charlotte’s decision to remain a single woman, instead of marrying for convenience, and enjoy what happiness she can, seems smart to me. Most significant is that Now, Voyager may be the first film to deal with psychiatry in a serious way.

Gladys Cooper is great as monstrous mother Mrs. Vale, to Bette's daughter.

At the core of Now, Voyager are two great performances, by Bette as the oppressed daughter Charlotte, and Gladys Cooper as the overbearing matriarch, Mrs. Vale. Davis, never afraid to look bad for a role, is an overweight, frumpy, beetle-browed old maid at the film’s beginning. Davis makes the metamorphosis from spinster Charlotte to stylish social butterfly, with the help of her great WB crew: Orry-Kelly’s brilliant costumes; Sol Polito’s beautiful cinematography; Perc Westmore’s expert makeup; and Maggie Donovan’s hairstyles.  

The other classic performance is by Gladys Cooper, as the monstrous mother, Mrs. Vale. Cooper was 54 at the time, but plays the aged Boston society woman with malice and occasional high-handed humor. I’m always riveted by Cooper’s Mrs. Vale, especially in the scenes where she browbeats poor Charlotte. Gladys Cooper gives a fully-dimensional performance, and is a great foil to Davis’ beleaguered heroine. No surprise then that Davis and Cooper were both Oscar-nominated.

Claude Rains, superb as always, as no-nonsense Doctor Jaquith.

However, the entire cast of Now, Voyager is terrific. Claude Rains as Doctor Jaquith is another one of his great star character roles. In an era of typecasting, Rains was so lucky to have reigned with the complex roles he got to play. His Doctor Jaquith is sympathetic but strong-minded, speaking his mind to the bully mother, while gently keeping the daughter on course. Paul Henreid earned his leading man stripes in Now, Voyager as Jerry, the married man saddled with a witch of a wife. Henreid has never been as warm and appealing as he is here—Paul and Bette make a memorably mature couple. I recall reading that Davis said she thought Charlotte would continue working with Doctor Jaquith, a lovely thought.

Ilka Chase and Bonita Granville are bright spots as always, as Vale family members who watch Charlotte's transformation with amazement.

Bette Davis with scene-stealer Mary Wickes as wickedly funny nurse, Dora.

A special shout out to Mary Wickes, who made her film debut in 1942, in six movies! The classic character comedienne plays Dora, the no-nonsense, sassy nurse who expertly deals with the cranky Mrs. Vale. Wickes' trademark humor took off from here, working all the way to her death in 1995, in Postcards from the Edge, Little Women, and the Sister Act movies. This is also one of three films she made with Davis—The Man Who Came to Dinner and June Bride, as well as Now, Voyager. Charlotte’s classic line to the crafty nurse, who runs interference: “Dora, I suspect you’re a treasure.”

And on a Michigan note, a nod to one-time Detroit TV 50 movie host, Bill Kennedy, who had a bit role as Hamilton Hunneker. He’s the polo player who escorts Davis' Charlotte off the cruise ship. Kennedy looks handsome in a Robert Taylor type of way, charming in his cameo role—certainly more appealing than wooden John Loder, who plays Bette’s prospective groom.

Now, Voyager is of the most romantic movies of the ‘40s, helped immeasurably by Max Steiner’s lovely score. The refrain became the hit song, ‘It Can’t Be Wrong,’ a wartime favorite. Steiner won an Oscar for his work here. Irving Rapper directs stylishly and Casey Robinson’s screenplay is filled with memorable lines. Now, Voyager is Warner Brothers’ studio era filmmaking cooking on all burners.

After the cinematic Cinderella makeover: Bette rarely appeared more beautiful on film.

The final scene of Now, Voyager is one of the most memorable in movies: Jerry lights two cigarettes, for both Charlotte and himself, while musing over their romantic dilemma. Charlotte replies, as the camera sweeps out the window, into the night sky: “Oh, Jerry, don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.”

No matter how many times I watch that scene, my heart always melts. Now, Voyager is a movie trip well worth taking.

The stars shine brightly in 'Now, Voyager.'

FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 

Check it out & join!  https://www.facebook.com/groups/178488909366865/

Deception 1946

1946 'Deception' recap: Bette with gun & shoulderpads, conductor Claude killed, & Paul Henreid as a jealous cellist!

I often watched 1946’s Deception, a twisted triangle set to classical music, on the afternoon movies while growing up. This Warner Brothers melodrama seemed very grownup to a ‘70s high school kid.

After not seeing Deception for decades, I re-watched the sudsy drama recently, and managed to make it half way through, before giving up in exasperation.

Claude Rains steals 'Deception' as the catty conductor, Alexander Hollenius.

Deception has a dazzling cast—Bette Davis, Paul Henreid, and especially Claude Rains—tangling with one another in a jealous triangle that leads to murder. The acting is fine, but the trio is done in by a premise that is patently unbelievable.

Bette Davis is Christine Radcliffe, a struggling pianist who lost her lover, cellist Karel Novak (Paul Henreid), in Europe five years ago to a concentration camp. Relocated in post-war NYC, Christine rediscovers Karel after the war, when she sees his name in a concert review. Speaking of names, Christine tells Karel that she took Radcliffe as her “professional name.” I guess Christine Sarah Lawrence sounded too pretentious!

Bette Davis and Paul Henreid as musical lovers reunited in post-war NYC.

Christine’s first line is as declarative as only Davis can be: “I thought you were dead!” Equally subtle is when Karel takes her hand, and Christine holds both up: “No rings.” Reunited, they return to her apartment. On the way up the stairs, Christine tells Karel that she struggles to make ends meet as a pianist, by giving lessons. Unfortunately, once they walk through the door, her apartment is actually a luxurious loft. Hanging up his jacket, Karel notices several fur coats in the closet. Looking around the loft, the cellist sees lots of lovely paintings and sculptures. Christine soft pedals all this obvious luxury. However, Karel is not just a cellist, but a jealous cellist! He attempts to choke her to stop her barrage of non-stop lies. 

After apologies, Henreid’s Karel decides the best thing for them to do is marry as quickly as possible. Bette turns her big eyes away from Henreid, and pops them for the camera…uh-oh.

The deadly...dull triangle that is 'Decption.'

You see, Bette’s been living large due to a beau, egomaniacal maestro Alexander Hollenius. And the maestro is mad as hell about getting dumped by Christine, on her impromptu wedding day, practically. Despite Karel telling her that it tortures him when he feels she’s not telling the truth, and with numerous opportunities to do so, Christine refuses to fess up.

What transpires is a prolonged cat and mouse game: Can Christine keep piling on lies to pacify jealous and insecure Karel? Can she keep equally jealous and self-centered Hollenius from spilling the beans? Can Christine keep the cellist and the conductor from killing each other as they collaborate? About half way through, I decided I didn’t care anymore and ditched Deception.

The most fascinating part of 'Deception' is the loft, that Bette's pianist tries to tell Henreid is paid for by giving lessons!

I’m pretty good at suspending disbelief and not imposing today’s social mores onto old movie conventions and morality. Here’s the big problem I have with Deception: the premise makes ZERO sense. This was also the critics’ problem with Deception over 70 years ago. Why should Christine try to hide a lover from Karel? They weren’t married when the war separated them. She thought he was dead—for five years! Was she supposed to become a nun? First off, Christine’s living situation is suspect. Also, all the people that she invited to her and Karel’s wedding know…because they were her and Hollenius’ friends! What’s to keep any of them from spilling? Plus, the maestro crashes the couple’s reception and acts absurdly jealous. Finally, Hollenius threatens to tell Karel from the get-go.

Paul's Karel is constantly jealous; Bette's Christine endlessly lies!

Most importantly, Bette’s character has NOTHING to feel guilty about, even by 1940s standards. Still, many film write-ups I’ve read about Deception refer to Christine as the conductor’s mistress. According to good old Merriam-Webster, a mistress is a woman who is having extra-marital relations, usually with a married man. Neither character was married during their affair. Yet Davis’ Christine lies her head off, just to keep two hot-headed men appeased. 

Specifically, I gave up after Deception’s famous “dinner scene.” Claude Rains as Hollenius has a field day here. The conductor treats the couple to dine at a fancy French restaurant and proceeds in taking great delight in showing off his talents as a gourmand. The maestro’s game becomes so protracted that Karel becomes unglued—perhaps he was just “hangry.” Though devilishly performed by Rains, and with increased agitation by Davis and Henreid, the whole scene feels as forced as the film’s premise. There’s no story to go forward, so Deception is just all snarky cocktail party chat.

Joan loved to talk about Bette's B.O.! 'Deception' was Davis' first 'disappointment'for WB, and the beginning of her box office slide.

If you can get past the major plot obstacles—there’s fun to be had. The three leads, who all worked together in far better films, do well with the rather unappealing characters they’re playing. The dialogue is sharp—especially the digs by the catty conductor. The sets that depict upscale NYC life are marvelous, especially Bette’s loft with a skylight that covers the entire living room. The classical music and film’s score, by Erich Wolfgang Korngold, set the mood.

Bette's character tries everything to soothe Claude's maestro...even grovelling!

Claude Rains does a delicious turn as Alexander Hollenius: childlike, sexy, jealous, devilish, sarcastic, egotistical, spiteful, and funny. Despite an intense performance by Paul Henreid, his character frequently comes off as peevish. Even with fits of violent jealousy, he ultimately just stews. In the original play, the Henreid’s character rises to the occasion and kills Hollenius. Wait just one minute! Since this a Bette Davis movie, where nobody is as good as Bette when she’s bad, Davis gets to do the dirty deed. Even so, Christine is a thankless character and Davis can’t do much more than to work herself up in a dither of denial.

Irving Rapper, who always seemed good with actors, does what he can with his collaborators, and gives Deception a smart visual style. The screenplay moves heaven and earth to compensate with occasional sharp dialogue to make up for the lack of story. My favorite credit for Deception is Jack Daniels listed as dialogue director—indeed!

Bette Davis as Christine, with a Rita Hayworth pompadour!

Bette Davis often played older and in period pictures. But when Bette essayed modern roles, she kept her look simple. Here, for the only time in her career, Davis sported shoulder pads, a hugely popular but short-lived trend. In fact, in the climactic scene, Bette sports a white fur over her shoulders, and I thought of Carol Burnett’s “curtain dress” take-off on Scarlett O’Hara. And through most of the movie, Bette sports a WWII-era pompadour, with an uncharacteristically lush mane that Rita Hayworth would have envied.

Bette Davis prays that Ernest Haller's noir-style lighting hides all that's going on off-camera!

Perhaps Bette overcompensated because she wasn’t looking her best. Davis’ character is amusingly described as a music student when she met the maestro four years earlier—struggling and taking “rich, untalented students” to get by…and pushing 40! Pregnant and ill during Deception, plus her new marriage was to jealous, violent artist William Grant Sherry—life imitating art? Davis’ favorite cinematographer, Ernest Haller, did what he could. Note that in certain scenes, especially evening shots, Bette’s face is totally surrounded by shadow. Bette admitted later that she wasn’t at her best here. Perhaps driving Davis was that Joan Crawford was following up her Mildred Pierce comeback in a romantic melodrama with a classical music backdrop, Humoresque. Neither films were smash hits, but Joan’s came off better and also turned a better profit, since Bette ran up her film’s budget by her pregnancy, plus emotional and health issues.

Deception isn’t a dud, just an exercise in style—great style, for sure—but no substance. 

The happy newlyweds are taken out for dinner by the maestro, not realizing they're the main course!

FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 

Check it out & join!  https://www.facebook.com/groups/178488909366865/