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Film review: An Affair to Remember (1957)

This has a reputation (probably because of Sleepless in Seattle) of being the ultimate chick-flick/weepie.  So I was a bit leery of it, despite the evident charm of the leads.  But as it happens, it is the charm of the leads and the lightness of touch that lift this above the melodrama of its central premise.  A couple of qualifiers on those leads: Deborah Kerr can come off a bit stiff (I find her so in The King and I), and does not make a convincing beloved-music-teacher-to-slum-kids in the second half of the film, 

and Grant has by this point entered his shiny walnut era (perhaps he always was that way, you just couldn't tell in black and white) and it's reached distracting George Hamilton levels in this film.  Still these are minor complaints, and Kerr also manages small touches like emotional glances and genuinely affecting crying (obviously vital in a weepie) perfectly.  Do not like her hair in this, though - definitely dowdy.

Anyway: the plot.  Grant is an internationally famous Lothario (or "Big Dame Hunter" as the humorous recurring American TV presenter has it) Nickie (sic) Ferrante who has finally agreed to marry an obscenely wealthy heiress.  This betrothal is deemed so newsworthy that we see it being reported in the US, Italy and the UK (although the representation of British news is laughably stereotyped).  Cut to a cruise ship where a cabin boy is running around shouting for Mr. Ferrante and exciting all the people on board who know who he is.  He finds him and it's a phone call from a former lover (French, very glam) incensed at having found out he is about to be married.  He gets off the phone from her and realizes (probably because she gave it to him) that he's lost his cigarette case.  He is walking somewhere absent-mindedly when he spots someone carrying it (how he recognizes it, I don't know), and this, of course, is Kerr's Terry McKay.  Grant immediately tries to hit on her, but she rebuffs him, which, as she notes, embarrasses him.  She rebuffs him because she is involved with a millionaire called Kenneth Bradley, who has sent her off on a cruise while he takes care of some big deal.  However, she agrees to have dinner with him.  Well, as you can imagine, this leads to a slow-growing romance, helped immeasurably by Nickie (Nicolò) introducing her to his ancient (charming) French-speaking grandmother at some idyllic Mediterranean stop-off, 

where she discovers that Nickie is actually a talented painter and musician but has given both up both because he is his own worst critic, and also because he can live the idle life of the beautiful.  By the second half of the cruise they are actively trying to avoid each other for fear of gossip (there are several genuinely amusing incidents in this endeavor), 

to no avail, because the ship's photographer has captures their every unguarded moment and is selling prints to the other passengers.  

They make a pact, as they pull into New York, to disentangle themselves from their respective partners and meet in 6 months time (because Nickie has, by his own admission, never worked a day in his life, and now realizes he has to if he's going to hook up with a pauper) at a place she can name.  

At that moment, the Empire State Building comes into view and they agree to meet on the viewing deck on the 122nd (or something) floor.  Then, in perhaps the funniest moment in the film, they get to view each other's partner for the first time, and the other passengers get to watch them do it. Well, it turns out that, although rich, their respective partners (her Kenneth, his Lois) are very decent people, and take the disentanglement well (his even takes place on television, thanks to the aforementioned humorous TV host), although Kenneth never stops trying to win her back.  She, however, goes back to her Boston Night Club Singing Career, where Kenneth first discovered her, until the agreed-upon day comes.  

Meanwhile, his painting career is slow to take off, but an old friend of his in the art world does manage to sell one for $100 while he makes ends meet painting billboards.  On the day, Terry is waylaid by Kenneth and has to run to get to the Empire State Building, and is looking up as she runs across the road...  Up on the 122nd floor, we see Nickie waiting as we hear the wails of sirens from below.  He waits from 6 PM till midnight before he gives up, assuming (of course) that she has got cold feet.  Well she has, but only because she has lost the use of them, and, while Kenneth pays her hospital bills, she is determined to win her independence so that she can work back to Nickie.  Kenneth (good egg that he is) begs her to let him tell Nickie, but she wants to be able to walk first, and besides, realizes that it will eat him up that Kenneth is supporting her, while she knows that he won't have the money.  So she takes the job of teaching street urchins how to sing that the kindly priest offers her.  Meanwhile, after a visit to the grandmother's magical estate, where it is clear she has died, and where he picks up a shawl that the grandmother wanted Terry to have (she always knew that Terry was the girl for Nickie, long before they did), he throws himself into his art and starts to make genuine progress.  Then one night Lois takes him out to the ballet, and they run into Kenneth and Terry.  Both assume that the others are couples, and Nickie doesn't realize that Terry can't walk.  

Will they ever get together?  Will Terry walk again?  Will they just give up and end up with the very decent, very rich people who clearly love them?

So, as you can see, the whole accident business could very easily descend into mawkishness, but the two leads carry it off with aplomb.  Grant, in particular, is a master of conveying a lot of internal turmoil very clearly (but subtly) on his face.  And, in general, the film is very good at not hammering points home, but allowing the viewer to work things out.  The dialogue is very subtle and allusive, and some important scenes are handled off-camera (perhaps most notably when, when the couple kiss for the first time, you can just see their legs because they are standing on ladder-like stairs aboard the cruise ship).  And the final scene, when Nickie conveys to Terry how hurt he has been, he does it by appearing to let her off the hook by acting like he was apologizing to her for not being there, but you gradually realize that both of them are simply role-playing to reveal their true feelings.  And when the penny finally drops about Terry's inability to walk, Grant is very convincingly almost physically stunned.  

(The only bum note is when Nickie gives Terry the scarf and she doesn't convey enough sadness at the death of the grandmother or comfort him, knowing how close they were.)

In conclusion - very good stuff.  A bit slow in places (the cruise part drags a little) and definitely perilously close to treacly, but leavened with witty writing and genuinely funny moments.  65% on Rotten Tomatoes my ass!

Trump train derails

Hey, I actually witnessed the event described here:

Vehicle carrying massive pro-Trump display crashes into telephone pole in three-car pileup

 Here are MY pictures, no doubt now worth something:

Film review: Wife vs. Secretary (1936)

 A pretty star-studded cast for 1936: Clark Gable, Myrna Loy, Jean Harlow and a very young Jimmy Stewart.  Gable is at his most charismatic and charming, with none of the rough edges that you see in, say, It Happened One Night or San Francisco, but Jean Harlow was the revelation for me, because I just thought of her as the comedy bimbo from Dinner at Eight, but she really pulls her dramatic weight here, playing a no-nonsense, super-efficient secretary.  The basic plot is a bit tiresome: Myrna Loy (who gets the most thankless role, and has to do a bit of rather wet pining, but starts off basically doing her Thin Man role of sassy broad who has eyes for nobody but her amazing husband) and Gable are Van and Linda Stanhope - he some kind of industrialist and she his faithful wife of three years (they have their anniversary at the start of the film).  

Harlow is "Whitey" Wilson, Van's indispensable secretary for whom Linda feels no jealousy whatever until Van's mother visits the office along with her and puts the idea into her head (because Van is "his father's son" and Whitey, scary eyebrows and all, is apparently super-gorgeous).  In reality, of course, Van sees "Whitey" at most as a work pal, but basically as his right-hand woman, whom he counts on to jump at his beck and call at all hours (much to the chagrin of Stewart's Dave, who is the driver beau of Whitey's who wants her to quit her job and stay at home to start a family with him.  

(To her credit, she blows him off - this is the 30s, not the 50s)) - as seen here, when she is dressed up to go out to the theater when he calls her to get some papers from the office and bring them to his house, where he's having a party. 

Things are complicated because Van hatches a scheme to take over a 5-cent periodical from its canny old owner (J.D. Underwood) so that he can control its advertising budget, as that's his business, but this requires both secrecy and long hours at the office with Whitey, the only other person in on the secret.  This starts to look suspicious, as Linda finds out that he's been with Whitey (in reality driving to and from the house of the owner of the periodical, where Van had to get into a steam-contraption with him while trying to sweet-talk him, 

which means that his bow-tie had to be re-tied (by J.D.)) when he says he's been at the gym (to explain the tie), Linda finds out from a guest at their cards-playing party that he hasn't been there in weeks.  Then there's a scene at a company skating party, where both Dave and Linda's noses are put out of joint by Whitey's and Van's (entirely innocent) skating shenanigans.  

After this both couples get into spats: Whitey returns Dave's ring, and Linda demands that Van promote Whitey away from being his secretary.  He refuses, because he needs her (particularly because of the periodical deal) and ends up storming off to play cards at the club.  However, Linda can't keep it up and calls him to come home, which he does with great and happy alacrity.  Cue reconciliation (of one couple) and Jami asking "what are they going to do for the other half of the film?"  Well, Van promises Linda that very soon they'll both pack up and go to Havana.  Then, to her delight, he calls her a couple of days later and says to get his bags ready for a trip to Havana, and she thinks the call has come.  But in reality this is just a trip for him, to go to some advertising winding as an "observer" (his usual employee has got appendicitis) at Whitey's suggestion so that he can corner J.D. and close the deal before J.D. goes to a competitor and gets them to pay more for his magazine.  So he lets Linda down easy with promises that he'll call her at seven every night.  But Linda finds out from a freelance accountant that their rivals have been doing financial analyses of that very periodical, so she figures matters are urgent and calls Van in Havana.  He tells her to gather up all the papers on the deal and join him there.  Long story short, they close the deal over a hectic 48 hours, during which he entirely forgets to call Linda, and (horror of horrors) she is in Van's room at 2 AM (they've both got loaded to celebrate, and are on the brink of actually doing what they've been accused of doing - innuendo lies heavy in the air as she helps him off with his shoes) and answers the phone when Linda calls.  

Well, that tears it.  She refuses to see him, runs off to his mother (the cause of all this fuss, remember) and it looks like he's going to end up with Whitey, who has more-or-less convinced herself that this is what she wants.  So what's going to happen with Jimmy Stewart?  And will they be happy, or will these rich people turn Whitey's head, as Dave always said?  And how can you feel sorry for Linda when she's being so stupid?  But why didn't Van just tell Linda about the deal in the first place?  As I said, annoying.  I hate contrived misunderstandings, from Romeo and Juliet onward.  But the cast is just so amazing that you can forgive it.

Film review: Cluny Brown (1946)

If you describe this as a searing indictment of the crippling oppression of the pre-war English class system, it doesn't sound as fun as it is.  But it is that, albeit with a very light touch and more double entendres than a Carry On film. But primarily it's a romantic comedy, starring a very unworldly young woman who just loves plumbing and can't understand why people seem to want to stop her.

The film starts with a voiceover about a boring cocktail party about to begin that only the man giving it (Hilary Ames) is looking forward to.  But he is desperate because his sink is clogged, and it being Sunday, he can't get hold of any plumbers.  All of this he is explaining to some other person on the phone, and then the door of his flat buzzes and he thinks it's the plumber.  It is in fact Charles Boyer, whom nobody in their right mind would ever confuse for a plumber, but he does, and proceeds to show him his sink.  Eventually it emerges that he is Adam Belinski, a Czech writer and philosopher, in England to escape the Nazis (it's 1938) and looking for the English academic from whom Hilary sublets his flat.  So they're both disappointed, particularly Belinski, because he has nowhere to stay and is desperate for a nap.  But then the door buzzes again, and this time it is the plumber, although this time Hilary can't believe it is, because it's Jennifer Jones playing the titular Cluny.  

She's not really a plumber, but her Uncle Arn, who was the one plumber that Hilary got through to, is, but he's off on some other job, so she thought she could help out, having observed him in action many times (although she believes he's far too timid, and that he needs to give the pipes a good thump more often).  Hilary is doubtful but Belinski talks him into it ("are you the kind of man who puts on his pants to answer the phone?" - good dialogue, but it reveals its American roots, because it doesn't say "trousers") and soon Cluny has dished out a few good whacks, 

and the sink is cleared.  They celebrate by giving her a martini and she is instantly sozzled, and gets to talking, revealing that her Uncle Arn is always telling her that she doesn't know her place (she has just recently been to the Ritz for tea just to have people pamper her and pull out her chair for her and so on), which leads Belinski into a discussion of how nobody knows their place, and something about how some like nuts to the squirrels, and others like squirrels to the nuts, a phrase that becomes a leitmotif throughout the film.  Any, at this point Uncle Arn shows up and is scandalized, and in an inversion of Eliza Doolittle's father in My Fair Lady, refuses the money Hilary offers exactly because he thinks it's payment for indecent services (this film skirts any and all codes very nicely by making clear allusions to all kinds of immoral goings-on without being explicit about it).  At this point, the cocktail party begins and the focus shifts from Hilary to three of his guests (one of whom, The Honorable Betty Cream, is the only guest he specifically mentioned (twice) because she doesn't come to most parties.  The other two are her admirers - Archie, who keeps proposing to Betty (and getting rejected - he swears he's only going to do it a couple more times before giving up) and Andrew Carmel (Peter "Rat Pack" Lawford - looking very much like a taller version of Davy Jones from the Monkees), who hasn't plucked up the nerve to do it once. 

They happen upon the now-napping Belinski, and Andrew recognizes him, and, as a great admirer, insists on supporting him, which soon leads to him being invited up to Andrew's parents huge country house estate.  Coincidentally, this is the establishment that Uncle Arn sets up employment for Cluny as a maid, to prevent any more shenanigans, sending the poor girl off with just a present of a picture of himself.  

And it is at the estate that all but the coda of the film takes place at, as Belinksi falls for Cluny, but Cluny falls for (or convinces herself that she does) the stuffy mother's-boy local chemist Jonathan Wilson (who has lived his entire life in the same house and intends to live the rest of it in there).  Soon, also, Betty and Andrew show up and it looks at one point as if Belinski is going to pursue Betty, 

something which might be just the impetus Andrew needs to propose to her.  Poor Cluny, on the other hand, is having to learn the ways of the Staff (taught by the dour valet Syrette and housekeeper Mrs. Maile) 

and thus Her Place, while all the time the louche continental Belinski keeps on bucking convention, to the acute discomfort of most of the Brits (the childlike Cluny excepted).  All seems to be going well with Wilson, to the extent that he throws a party and invites several other members of the local petty (literally) bourgeoisie to hear him announce his intention to wed Cluny... but then the pipes start banging, and an infectious enthusiasm to plumb overtakes Cluny, to the horror of the hidebound Wilson.

This is an immensely enjoyable little rom-com with, as I said, a real satirical edge, albeit for a system that time has eroded anyway.  Its setting is interesting, on the cusp of WWII (a war that had just ended when the film was made), so the plucky character of the British is lauded just as their caste system is gently derided.  Interestingly, while most of the cast are really British (or Irish - Wilson's mother is played by noted Universal Monster-film screecher Una O'Connor), both young women are American, doing credible English accents (albeit slightly less so in the case of Helen Walker, the actress whose career was just about to be ruined by a car crash that killed a passenger).  The dialogue is endlessly witty and perfectly delivered, and frivolous without preventing you really caring what happens to the characters.  (You might wish that Cluny were not quite so innocent that she appears slightly simple, or that the age difference between Jones and Boyer were not so great, but these are not enough to sour the film.)  It transpires, in the end, that the only way to escape the English class system is to go to America, and support yourself writing best-selling thrillers.  Squirrels to the nuts, indeed.