‘North by Northwest’ 1959

Cary Grant & Eva Marie Saint get a "rush" of a cliffhanger in this Alfred Hitchcock classic.

The Alfred Hitchcock catch me if you can classic, North by Northwest, was the film forerunner to the modern summer blockbuster.

North by Northwest was a distinctly commercial venture after Vertigo. Hitchcock had received some criticism in the ‘50s as too smoothly commercial, with his Grace Kelly movies, The Man Who Knew Too Much, and 1959’s North by Northwest. 1960’s Psycho would be his answer to THAT criticism!

Cary Grant spends the entire time in 'North By Northwest' on the run!

Here’s the complicated plot of NBNW in a nutshell: Devil-may-care ad man Roger Thornhill is abducted by henchmen and taken to spy Philip Vandamm. He is convinced that Roger is an undercover agent. They then engage in a cross-country game of cat/mouse, when a cool blonde enters into the mix of this smart suspense thriller. The deeper Roger gets entangled into this espionage web, the more he realizes there’s a thin line between the good guys and bad guys.

Alfred Hitchcock, master of suspense AND master showman, promoting 'NBNW.'

North by Northwest was Hitch's double whammy with the plot device he called the “MacGuffin.” This was an inconsequential object of a story that sets everything in motion. While the MacGuffin here is microfilm hidden in an antique, I think that George Caplan, a non-existent person who Cary Grant's ad man is mistaken for, is the real MacGuffin here.

The microfilm revealed late in 'NBNW' may be the official 'MacGuffin,' but for me,
Grant's Roger Thornhill mistaken for George Caplan is the REAL MacGuffin!

NBNW is the epitome of a mid-century movie: sophisticated yet totally entertaining; a clever plot and plenty of action; sexy yet classy; a star and director's vehicle. North by Northwest’s story takes the audience across the much of the United States, from NYC to Mount Rushmore. This suspense film is what summer blockbusters call a "thrill ride." Unlike many modern versions, North by Northwest was meticulously thought out and filmed, with director Hitchcock at his height of storytelling talents.

Cary Grant, the essence of movie star cool, and IMO, Hitchcock's best movie hero.

Roger Thornhill was Cary Grant's last great role, though he appeared in several more popular movies before making a graceful film farewell in 1966. At 55, Cary looks like a million and deserved every cent he demanded. Perhaps the healthiest and best-preserved male movie star of his generation, Grant is stylish, sexy, fit, graceful, and charming—a total catch for any leading lady. Also, Cary’s droll humor is also on full display. Though his role resembles the government agent he played for Hitch over a dozen years earlier in Notorious, Cary is less moody here. Grant is great with a funny line, whether broad or sly, and his body language is fantastic, when playing drunk or playing the fool at an art auction. North by Northwest also demonstrates that had he been a decade or so younger, what a great James Bond he would have made in the coming decade. 

At 55, Cary Grant is still in fine form, and aged better than any of his fellow male stars.

I've written how understated Eva Marie Saint as Eve Kendall is the secret weapon of North by Northwest, which you can read here:
https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2019/07/eva-marie-saint-secret-weapon-of-north.html

Cary Grant, Eva Marie Saint, and the red & black cocktail dress.

I’ll recap that Eva brought her acting talent and sly sex appeal to the role of Eve. Saint had a great rapport with Grant and Alfred Hitchcock. I’m always a bit puzzled why Hitch didn’t use Eva Marie Saint again, in some of his ‘60s films.

Cary Grant & James Mason as hero & villain: Mason's persona makes me think of a dark side version of Grant.

"You have to choose ONE of us, Mister!" Martin Landau, James Mason's "loyal" henchman.

James Mason, who I always thought of as a mortal version of Cary Grant, is a wonderful villain in North by Northwest. Silky would be the cliché adjective to describe his Phillip Vandamm, but damn, Mason is silky and sexy. He's intelligent yet intimidating, charming yet creepy, cool but with an underlying attitude of sadness—an update of Claude Rains’ cuckold character in Notorious. It's a great role for James Mason and his ambiguous attitude toward Eve and henchman Leonard is fascinating. Martin Landau, tall and ominous—a handsome Lurch—those glaring ice blue eyes, is smartly sinister as Leonard. His attitude toward Eve and a few key lines makes it very apparent that Leonard is not just a villain, but also just a jealous guy, as John Lennon once sang.

Left: Jessie Royce Landis, amusing as Grant's exasperated mother, asking these thugs
if they're really trying to kill her son!

A fine supporting cast goes far in making North by Northwest a smooth ride: Jessie Royce Landis as Grant’s mother; Leo G. Carroll, as the FBI “good guy;” Josephine Hutchinson as “Mrs. Townsend;” and Philip Ober as Lester Townsend; Ernest Anderson as the train porter, and Ned Glass as the station ticket master who’s on to Grant are welcome familiar faces.

Eye-catching Saul Bass titles & Bernard Herrmann's score get 'NBNW' off to a rousing start!

Ernest Lehman wrote one of the wittiest Hitchcock screenplays ever in NBNW. The classic opening credits by Saul Bass, paid homage to in Mad Men, still stuns on each viewing. The energetic and slightly exotic score by Bernard Herrmann is one of his best. One of Hitchcock’s favorite cinematographers, Robert Burks was up to the challenge of framing the thrilling set pieces. Perhaps that’s why Burks shot 12 films for Hitchcock. And for a ‘50s movie, the Mount Rushmore mock ups look pretty damn good. Hitch's love of rear projection, matte work, and actual location shooting is mixed just about perfectly in NBNW.

There’s the villain’s heavenly hideout home, even though it’s just a set and a mural/miniature. How amusing that Hitchcock has the villain live in a Frank Lloyd Wright-esque house that’s located next door to Mount Rushmore—totally inconspicuous, right?

Where else would a spy's hideout be located, but in a Frank Lloyd Wright-style mansion
next door to Mount Rushmore? Talk about hiding in plain sight!

At 2 ¼ hours, my one “nay” about North by Northwest is that it’s a tad overlong. Studio era movies could be deliberate in their storytelling set up, especially to today’s attention span deprived eyes. And this was especially true of Hitch. I recall at a retrospective showing of Rear Window, there were signs of audience restlessness during the opening scenes. In NBNW, Roger Thornhill’s kidnapping, induced drinking, drunken car ride, and subsequent arrest could be much shorter. Drunk scenes for laughs don’t play well today, and it doesn’t advance the movie much, except to show Grant’s comedic skills, and Hitch’s sometimes heavy-handed humor. By contrast, the near-silent crop duster scene hasn’t a wasted moment.

As with Alfred Hitchcock’s work, North by Northwest can be enjoyed multiple times. There are so many layers to Hitch’s storytelling and he utilizes all the top notch production elements to the fullest. NBNW is a film journey I love to re-visit.

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This Julius Kroll promotional caricature captures all the elements of Hitchcock's 'NBNW.'

‘Island in the Sun’ 1957

Only Dorothy Dandridge & Harry Belafonte rise above the soapy script of 'Island in the Sun.'

Island in the Sun, by British author Alec Waugh, made a huge splash, selling 900,000 copies in 1956. The novel mixed politics, race, and S-E-X. Former 20^th Century Fox head Darryl F. Zanuck, now the studio’s independent producer, envisioned Island as an international picture, with lush locations, torrid romance, and an unflinching look at interracial relations. Well, one out of three ain’t bad!

Darryl F. Zanuck's first independent production missed the mark depicting its subject matter.

The tensions between Island in the Sun’s characters stem from personal and power struggles over race in Santa Marta, a fictional Caribbean island. The Fleury family and their sugar plantation epitomize British power. David Boyeur is a black labor leader who wants to shake up the status quo and fight for the island people. Fleury scion Maxwell, an arrogant ne’er-do-well, decides to run against firebrand David for legislature. A news story reveals that the Fleurys have island blood mixed with their British blue blood. “I wanted to keep things as they were,” the Fleury father laments. This makes Maxwell even more insecure and his sister Jocelyn frets over her chances of marriage to the Governor’s son, Euan. Speaking of the Gov, his aide Denis Archer falls in love with black shop girl, Margot Seaton. Islander David is drawn to Brit aristocrat Mavis Norman. The consequences of all this, with added soap opera twists, causes the cast to drown in the ensuing suds.

'Island in the Sun' made a boatload of money in '57, but wasn't well-liked of by audiences or critics.

Zanuck thought that tough-minded director Robert Rossen was suitable to handle the racial/interracial themes. Either Zanuck or Fox copped out on that aspect. 20^th Century Fox was especially good at the Hollywood shell game, promising scandalous controversy, but delivering mildly salacious soap opera: Peyton Place, The Best of Everything, and Valley of the Dolls are prime examples. The resulting glossy soap opera wasn’t really Rossen’s greatest genre. He made his mark with gritty films, writing A Walk in the Sun, and writing/directing Body and Soul, All the King’s Men, and finally, The Hustler.

Sold as a sexy movie, the couples of Island in the Sun rarely get up close and personal. David and Mavis barely touch each other, Margot and Denis only hug, and Jocelyn (whose racial background is questioned) and Euan first kiss just 30 minutes before Island is over! Despite the pussyfooting around, Island deserves credit for the finale, when David and Mavis break up, and he admits it’s easier for Margot to marry a white man, than for him to be with a white woman.

As close to interracial romance as 'Island in the Sun' got, with a fervent hug from Dorothy!

Still, Island in the Sun received great pre-publicity and became one of the year’s biggest hits. The sun-kissed soap also got the kiss-off by critics, which is why it’s not well-remembered these days. While the look at race and island life is surprisingly direct, interracial romance is handled very demurely, which made Island instantly dated. Still, movies like Island in the Sun took the first baby steps. There have been so few interracial film romances since, which still makes Island a significant footnote in Hollywood history.

Dorothy Dandridge should have been at the peak of a movie career, not dead at 42.

Island in the Sun possessed a great cast of veteran and then up-and-coming stars: James Mason, Joan Fontaine, John Williams, Diana Wynyard, Michael Rennie, Patricia Owen, Stephen Boyd, Joan Collins, John Justin, Harry Belafonte, and Dorothy Dandridge. What really let this solid cast down, aside from the watered-down story, is the soggy script and dialogue.

Dorothy Dandridge's spirit and beauty was a breath of fresh air in 'Island in the Sun.'

Two exceptions are Harry Belafonte and Dorothy Dandridge. Their characters are no better written than the rest, but both have charisma to burn, and Dandridge in particular rises above the stale storytelling.

Dorothy Dandridge’s sweetly beautiful face belies her strong-willed personality. As Margot, she’s a shop girl who wants to better herself—shades of ‘30s Joan Crawford! Then Dorothy falls in love with the governor’s aide, routinely acted by British John Justin. Dandridge has that young Susan Hayward energy, all smart, snappy, and sparkling. Dorothy gets a hug from her white lover, though she demurely dodges a standard screen kiss, per censor cop out. She flies off with him at the movie’s end, just like a decade later, with Sidney Poitier and white fiancée Katherine Houghton in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? They kiss, though shown in a tax rear view mirror!

Harry Belafonte has a strong screen presence as David Fleury, the man of the people.

Harry Belafonte, as David Boyeur, is a naturally commanding presence. That he gets to sing the lovely theme song and a rousing “work” ballad with island fishermen is a bonus. Harry is best as the stubborn island labor leader, who wants to help his people, and is blunt regarding class structures. Belafonte’s David meets Joan Fontaine’s Mavis, a wealthy socialite who is kind but self-admittedly useless. Whatever draws these two to one another is ambiguous, so their romance goes nowhere.

However, Belafonte’s David gets in some pointed racial commentary that still rings true today. His labor leader candidate tells a reporter at a party: “One of the most important fights is against tradition. This island is shackled by tradition.”

After heated exchanges between Boyeur and plantation heir Maxwell Fleury, he tells David that his field hand father was treated well by the Fleurys, even when he was sick. Boyeur retorts, “That was charity, Mr. Fleury. What we want is equality.”

Stephen Boyd & Joan Collins don't kiss until the movie 3/4 over! Not the most sultry 'Island.'

Whereas Harry and Dorothy rise above the script, Joan Collins and Stephen Boyd barely stay afloat. Both are in the prime of their beauty and play their parts smoothly. And that’s the problem; they’re performing like graduates of a Hollywood charm school. For once, Joan wasn’t trying to play an American; here, she’s an English ingénue. Collins was in the middle of her Fox tenure and it was roles like this that buried her. Joan was not able to rise above the lackluster script, like other genuine movie stars. Stars that are born film actors connect with the camera, and are at home in front of the lens. Great stars can usually rise above bad scripts, dialogue, and uninspired directors. Joan Collins never could.

As an actor, Stephen Boyd shows off his best assets. 

Stephen Boyd is perfectly pleasant—mostly visually—as the son of the island governor who wants to marry Joan, no matter what her heritage. While relaxed and easygoing, Boyd is a dramatic void on the screen. Stephen Boyd never became a lasting leading man, despite the buildup, because he lacked real depth or charisma. Compare Boyd to Sean Connery, a Scotsman to his Irishman from the same era, and the difference is obvious.

This is about as close to sizzling romance as Joan Fontaine & Harry Belafonte get in 'Island.'

As for Joan Fontaine, what to say? I never thought Fontaine had much range—lots of limpid eyes, the raised eyebrow, and her ubiquitous small smile or smirk. Fontaine could perform well, in an extremely small range, whether as a repressed heroine or smooth villainess. However, her patrician manner is utilized well here and Fontaine seems fond, if not wild about Harry. A still-telling scene is when Mavis and David buy local children sodas and a white mother makes her little girl give the soda back. Of the racism, Fontaine’s Mavis says, “The children don’t seem to know about that, do they?” David responds pointedly, “Not yet.”

The only overt sex scene in 'Island' is when James Mason's Maxwell commits husbandly rape.

As Maxwell Fleury, James Mason has a field day as the drunken son from a wealthy family, much like Robert Stack’s character in Written on the Wind: Self-loathing, ineffectual, and abusive. Maxwell is the personification of white privilege, especially when things don’t go his way. When he announces to his parents that he plans to run for office against David Fleury, they are rightly not impressed. Maxwell has a hissy fit, capped with, “I’d been better off if I had been born black!” This is rejoined by a slap from his mother and his father offering him a drink. Talk about a dysfunctional dynasty.

Mason’s Maxwell is a drag in other ways, too. His fatal assault and subsequent guilt trip hijacks Island in the Sun from its more topical issues. Michael Rennie’s Hilary Carson comes to an abrupt end. Rennie, a solid actor, barely has time to introduce his character, when Maxwell causes his demise.

Joan Collins & James Mason play rich kids in 'Island,' despite a quarter of a century age difference!

This was veteran British actress Diana Wynard’s last film, and is used mostly for her class, as the wealthy Fleury matriarch with a few secrets. John Williams is on duty again as an inspector, out to solve the murder of Hilary. Patricia Owen is sympathetic as Mason’s extremely put-upon wife, Sylvia.

The location cinematography— in Grenada, Barbados, and Trinidad—by Freddie Young, is superb. Young made his name in Great Britain, then in the U.S. at MGM, and finally, Freddie freelanced to great acclaim, especially as David Lean’s favorite cinematographer. As a travelogue, Island is lovely, and the few romantic scenes are artfully framed.

Island in the Sun deserves credit for stating the unfair economic, political, and social system in the Caribbean. The film gets applause for Belafonte and Dandridge getting to play strong characters, without stereotype or condescension. Island is worth watching on several levels, but the film sadly missed an opportunity to portray interracial romance with any real honesty or passion.

Things were apparently more lively off-camera than on, regarding 'Island in the Sun!'

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Madame Bovary 1949

MGM's 1949 'Madame Bovary' is wildly erratic and highly watchable.

The Vincente Minnelli-directed 1949 version of Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary is fascinating, but wildly erratic, much like the heroine herself.

The huge hurdles for the movie-makers with this take on the once-scandalous novel of a French housewife are never satisfactorily resolved: telling a story that would satisfy audiences, critics—and censors; movie-making with more post-war modern realism, and less from the past era’s style; and bolstering a leading lady who lacked confidence in her acting ability.

I never realized how James Mason sounded like his own best hammy imitation!

Some critics have cited the MGM treatment of Madame Bovary as anti-Emma, claiming that the studio framed the story within the censors’ rule that movie sinners must be punished by the last reel. I disagree. There are plenty of instances in the movie that defends Emma as trapped by her role of a woman, in male-dominated society. I have not read the book, but this adaptation posits that her childish ideas of life arise from her sheltered upbringing as a small town farm girl. When Emma attempts to act on them as an adult woman, the results are tragic. Director Minnelli deserves credit for a reasonably faithful rendition of Madame Bovary, filmed in an era when studios didn’t particularly care about fidelity—to a book, at least. In case you don’t get the message that Madame Bovary is great art and not scandalous trash, there’s a prologue and an epilogue that bookends the trial, which in turn bookends the movie. The idea of portraying author Gustave Flaubert on trial, to defend the decency of MGM’s Madame Bovary, must have seemed like a brilliant idea to offset showbiz censors. However, after James Mason's sonorous speechifying at the trial, we’re treated to his pompous narration that’s so intrusive that it’s comical. You’re relieved when he finally shuts up half way through.

The eternal triangle: Madame Bovary, the suave French playboy, and Mr. Bovary, the dull doctor. Guess what happens next?

This 1949 version of Madame Bovary was one of Metro's 25th silver anniversary movies, but in reality, it was their last hurrah as Hollywood’s greatest studio. Like other MGM takes on the classics about modest folk with only proximity to wealth, the stars of Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, and Madame Bovary still wear improbably lavish costumes and live in “cozy” luxury. Jennifer Jones sports gowns by Walter Plunkett, famed for his Scarlett O’Hara designs for David O. Selznick’s Gone with the Wind. Director Minnelli, despite his own love of glamour, at least attempted to give Emma's rustic life some genteel grit, but was thwarted by MGM.

Just a simple French farm girl making an omelette for the visiting doctor.!

In her first scene, when Emma is cooking breakfast, I burst out laughing. After a stormy night with rain seeping into the country kitchen, there is Jones as Emma, looking utterly pristine. Emma’s morning wear is a gigantic gown, with a huge decorative rose, as she delicately makes an omelette for visiting doctor Charles Bovary (Van Heflin.)

So it goes, with each scene, as Jones swans around in a gown or cape even more lavish and absurd than the last. How much more dramatic would it have been if Emma actually dressed like a country doctor’s wife, and finally gets to fulfill her dream at the Marquis’ ball, swathed in her soiree-stopping, snowy white confection.

Emma is encouraged to live large by the sinister shopkeeper!

Madame Bovary is one of those studio system era movies that are a mish mash of accents—American, British, and one actual Frenchman! Van Heflin is sympathetic as Charles Bovary, the benign and bewildered husband, though he is directed to play the drunken hubby at the ball very broadly, where he bursts Emma’s romantic bubble. The supporting cast, though playing archetypes, offer skillful portrayals. Ellen Corby, Grandma Walton herself, plays Emma’s long-suffering maid. I was puzzled that the great Gladys Cooper (Now, Voyager) has just one scene, making me wonder if a subplot had been cut out of the final film. Louis Jourdan plays yet another charming, smarmy French playboy, who helps lead the heroine to ruin.

Ultimately, Madame Bovary is all about Emma and the actress who plays her. There are a bevy of Madame Bovarys, all have their merits, but the Vincente Minnelli version is still the most famous. This is a bit surprising, since MGM’s Madame Bovary was a flop at the box office. Originally, Lana Turner was offered the role of Emma. This could have been an apt choice, as Turner was a romantic whose shallow outlook created as much disaster in her own life, as Emma Bovary did in hers. Lana thought the script dull and turned it down, and found out she was pregnant, as well. Minnelli was relieved, as he felt Turner’s notoriety would attract more attention from censors, and that an actress with a more respectable screen image would be a better choice.

Lana: "No, Jen, YOU play 'Madame Bovary!' You'll win a second Oscar!'

Enter Jennifer Jones as Emma. Never mind that Jones’ marriage and family with Robert Walker was wrecked when Gone with the Wind producer David O. Selznick set his sights on Jennifer. Or four years later, Selznick was still haggling with his current wife over the end of their marriage. In fact, it was during Madame Bovary’s production that Irene Selznick was granted a divorce. Ultimately, image is everything in Hollywood, and Jones was the dream girl of super productions like Song of Bernadette and Since You Went Away. Ethereal Jennifer Jones as Emma Bovary therefore took the onus off playing a scandalous character.

Jennifer Jones is one of Hollywood's most puzzling personalities. Jones grew up in a theatrical family, who owned a chain of movie theaters. She and first hubby Robert Walker were aspiring actors together. Yet, friend and co-star Joan Fontaine said of working with Jones on her last big movie, 1962’s Tender is the Night, even at that late date, acting “was a kind of torture” for Jennifer.  Jones is an anomaly among performers who grew up surrounded by showbiz—Mickey Rooney, Judy Garland, Sammy Davis—who lived for the limelight. And there are many stars that are shy off-stage, but who have brash personas. Jennifer Jones seemed a bit like Marilyn Monroe, both seeking and repelling stardom. Some critics of Jones have questioned the “shy” Jennifer, claiming it was an act to cover her ambition. To me, her reclusive nature and increasing discomfort on-screen seemed to indicate that Jennifer was not pretending. And yet Jones aspired to stardom, or she wouldn’t have broken up her family for the siren call of superstardom that Selznick promised.

Portrait of Jennifer, as Madame Bovary, dressed to the nines.

Though he technically had nothing to do with this Madame Bovary, David Selznick peppered everyone involved with his famous memos—all about how to bring out the best in Jennifer Jones. Like so many powerful Hollywood men, Selznick was obsessed with his star, and determined to make her into Hollywood’s greatest superstar. Newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst attempted the same with Marion Davies. Davies was a showgirl with a natural flair for comedy, but Hearst’s desire was to make her a great dramatic actress. Instead, they made a string of big budget flops that made Marion a punch line. Film contemporaries and historians later said that Davies might have had a more interesting and relaxed career if Hearst had just butted out. And many film folk and critics felt the same in regard to Selznick and Jones.

Jones’ ambivalence is apparent in many of her movies, which is why movie fans and critics are still wildly divided over Jennifer’s abilities as an actress. As Emma Bovary, Jones gives off a jittery intensity throughout, which serves her character well. Jennifer is also wildly uneven as the country girl who longs for romance and riches. Jones can be subtly in tune with Emma in one scene, studio era “dramatic” in the next, and feverishly unnerving after that. Even here, critics and audiences were starting to notice Jones’ nervous tics, especially her tendency to grimace during dramatic scenes.

Every time Emma embraces a new dream—a new home, a baby, a lover, or even a ball gown—Jennifer makes the pronouncement with a fixed, wild stare as if she's playing the beatific Bernadette again, seeing visions. Jennifer seems most comfortable in her love scenes, luxuriating in her romantic fantasy. Yet, as the desperate Emma calling on her former lover for financial help, Jones is theatrically obvious, and therefore, not especially sympathetic. Finally, as Emma on her death bed, after swallowing gobs of arsenic, Jones dies a realistically painful death. 

Jones as Emma, facing her ruin. Jennifer reminds me of Kim Cattrall here.

Perhaps it is Jennifer’s lack of confidence and the inability to create empathy for a basically unsympathetic character that makes Jones' Emma Bovary off putting. Vivien Leigh and Elizabeth Taylor often played passionate women who did foolhardy things (off-screen, too!) but they always retained audience sympathy, especially from female fans. Leigh, a few years before, or Taylor, a decade later, could have easily played Emma. I think MGM’s Ava Gardner might have made a fine Emma. Gardner was a small town farm girl who came to Hollywood, where her dreams turned to disillusion, too. However, Ava was about as insecure about her talent as Jones.

'Madame Bovary' comes alive in the famous waltz scene. This is one of director Vincente Minnelli's best scenes on film.

Wildly uneven as Jones is, Jennifer still has her moments. For this Madame Bovary, the famed ballroom scene is where everything comes together. Jennifer Jones, who looks lovely throughout, is especially fetching in her gauzy, snow-white gown, with black feathers across the bosom. Surrounded by admirers, Scarlett O’ Hara-style, Emma takes a breather between dances. Jourdan as Rodolphe makes his move, the suave stud ready to sweep Mrs. Bovary off her feet. Emma goes from Cinderella to belle of the ball, and this scene is the perfect moment: the increasingly giddy waltz, the camera swirling along with Emma, surrounded by aristocrats, in the arms of a handsome man, waiters who smash windows with chairs when she exclaims that she can’t breathe, and Emma Bovary’s romantic daydreams momentarily come true.

Jones’ other big scene in Bovary is when Emma plans to run off with Rodolphe. Waiting for a stagecoach on a dark, windy night, Jennifer’s intensity conveys Emma’s yearning to escape her small town life. As the stagecoach comes closer into the village, the horses’ hoof beats become louder—symbolizing Emma’s heart pounding? The stagecoach looms into view…and then passes by, followed by a huge close-up of Emma screaming, powerfully portrayed by Jones. Emma, defeated, returns to her home and husband. Charles is waiting and so is a basket of fruit, from Rodolphe, along with a farewell note. Jones’ reaction to her lovers’ kiss off is eerily catatonic.

Emma Bovary's romantic dreams go up in flames. Jones with Van Heflin as Charles Bovary.

Looking at Jennifer Jones’ career in terms of hits is bizarrely skewed. Jennifer starred in eight bonafide blockbusters: Song of Bernadette, Since You Went Away, Love Letters, and Duel in the Sun in the 1940s. Then in the '50s, there were The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, Love is a Many Splendored Thing, and the critically panned but commercial A Farewell to Arms. Finally, Jones literally went out with a blaze of glory in 1974’s The Towering Inferno. Nearly none of these movies hold up today.  After those films, Jones’ box office stand takes a huge dip when looking at her other films like Portrait of Jennie, Carrie, We Were Strangers, Tender is the Night, as well as Madame Bovary. All were box office duds. The films that have won her cult status were financial flops too, but got her good notices, like Cluny Brown, Beat the Devil, and Indiscretion of an American Housewife. I find her appealing both as the saintly Good Morning, Miss Dove and as the trashy bayou babe in Ruby Gentry—again, not big hits. In Jones’ defense, the movies that stars are most remembered for aren’t always their biggest hits, and Jennifer’s work is worth exploring. Happy hunting though, because Jennifer Jones' career is checkered, to say the least.

Bette as a bitchy Madame Bovary!

Here's a fascinating coincidence: the same year as Jennifer Jones played Emma Bovary, Bette Davis ended her Warner Brothers contract playing a modern day version of Bovary in Beyond the Forest. Having just seen Madame Bovary for the first time, I was shocked at how much Forest author Stuart Engstrand ripped off the Flaubert classic. Seriously, Beyond the Forest is pretty much a replay of Madame Bovary in modern dress. And Bette's character Rosa Moline is just a mean girl version of Emma Bovary. Like Emma, Rosa is also married to a doctor, lives for luxury, looks down on her fellow townspeople, takes a rich lover, humiliates her husband, berates her maid, and dies a slow, painful death. The only thing Emma doesn't do is shoot a porcupine and a boozy tattletale!

The best way to watch this Madame Bovary is to ignore or enjoy its contradictions. Or maybe watch Jones’ Emma as a double feature with Bette’s bitchy broad version of Bovary!

Let's leave Emma Bovary on a happy note, the belle of the ball, and surrounded by admiring men!