hrd1963

Romanticized account of the life of the Brontes with particular emphasis of course on older sisters Charlotte and Emily. It's slow moving at times and should not be relied upon for historical accuracy but, of its kind, it's fairly well done and entertaining. Olivia de Havilland (looking very pretty) is the imperious and ambitious Charlotte, aggressively courting literary success, while Ida Lupino, as Emily, remains at home, engaging in fanciful reverie and harboring a secret passion for the local clergyman. Both offer strong, capable performances. (It's been said that de Havilland, who had been fighting with Warner Brothers over better scripts, was given third billing as punishment by studio chief Jack Warner. By the time the film was released, in 1946, she had successfully sued the studio for release from her contract and would go on to win two Oscars as Best Actress). Nancy Coleman has the thankless role of younger sister Anne, Arthur Kennedy is their dissolute brother Branwell (his self-destructiveness is never adequately explained and simply becomes tedious after a while) and Paul Henreid is the Reverend Arthur Nichols, the object of Emily's unrequited affection (a contrivance thought up by the screenwriter). With Sydney Greenstreet as the novelist William Makepeace Thackeray and Montagu Love, Ethel Griffies, Victor Francen, Odette Myrtil and Dame May Witty.

Henry Bellamann's account of small town life at the turn of the twentieth century, with its central themes of incest, suicide, religious fanaticism, homosexuality, euthanasia and sadism (among other less controversial topics), assured its best seller status when the book was first published in 1940. When Warner Brothers released its film version two years later, much of the story's sensational content was altered or eliminated entirely and yet the movie remained surprisingly compelling. The first part of the film concerns itself primarily with Parris Mitchell (Robert Cummings), the sensitive and idealistic doctor-in-training, and his volatile relationship with his childhood sweetheart, Cassie (played by Betty Field), and it's less successful because of the films inability to deal honestly with the demons that haunt Cassie. (The revelation that Cassie is being molested by her father is jettisoned completely and the movie, instead, settles for the explanation that Cassie is mentally ill. The frantic and desperate interludes that Parris and Cassie share, however, fevered by a kind of histrionic intensity, don't make much sense within this context and the viewer is left feeling somewhat bewildered by it all). The second part of the film, which focuses on the other major love story, that of Parris' best friend Drake (Ronald Reagan) and Randy (Ann Sheridan), the poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks, is more faithful to Bellamann's novel and altogether more satisfying. There is also a fascinating subplot, involving Drake's abandoned sweetheart, Louise (Nancy Coleman), that helps to sustain the film and propel the movie to its dynamic conclusion. Though Cummings, as Parris, is bland and overly-sincere, the movie contains what is considered to be Ronald Reagan's finest screen performance (not that the competition had been that keen) and Ann Sheridan is an immensely warm and lovely presence. The film belongs, however, to it's amazing supporting cast, comprised of some of Hollywood's finest character players: Betty Field, touching as the frightened and disturbed Cassie; the wonderful Claude Rains, beautifully underplaying as Cassie's sad, troubled father; Maria Ouspenskaya, characteristically cast as Parris' wise and loving grandmother; and, in particular, Nancy Coleman as the hysterical Louise, the sexually repressed daughter of religious fanatics (Charles Coburn and Judith Anderson). The memorable score, by Erich Wolfgang Korngold, adds immeasurably to the mood.