“The Woman in White” (1948) is an example of how Hollywood
can “borrow” a classic novel, change things around, slap together “locations” on
a soundstage and back lot, even alter the ending, and still, sometimes, get it right. This movie is a winner because of its
engaging cast, and a director who employs film noir techniques on a Victorian
mystery.
How the movie succeeds is probably because this is one of
the few times where that old bemused studio system arrogance that altered the
plots of classic novels as often as it changed the names of its contract
players actually came up with a plot that works for this movie. This is not to say that the movie is the
ultimate version of this story, written by Wilkie Collins in 1859—it does not
strictly adhere to the plot—but I will say that no filmed version of this story
I have seen, including two BBC miniseries (and nobody dramatizes their literature
like the British), are better. All take
liberties with plot and characterization. This movie, I think more closely follows the
spirit, certainly energy, of the book.
Long post. I hope you
brought an overnight bag.
The film, directed by Peter Godfrey, employs an economy of
script and cinematography to capture the essence of the story. If there was one thing Old Hollywood did well, it was atmosphere.
The novel was a smash in its day. It was at the forefront of the rise of the
sensation novel, and one of the first to use a character, or in this case, two
characters, to follow logical detection to solve the mystery. Or mysteries.
There are several. According to
Matthew Sweet, who wrote the introduction to the Penguin Classic version published
in 2009,
“The progress of the
plot became a dinner-table topic and bets were struck on the outcome of this or
that situation. Collins received letters
from single men demanding to know the identity of the original for his heroine
Marian Halcombe, and if she would accept their hand in marriage…The future Prime
Minister William Gladstone cancelled a theatre engagement in order to continue
reading it...Prince Albert was a great admirer, and sent a copy to the royal
family’s most trusted adviser, Baron Stockmar.” (p. xv)
The book is very long and the
subplots are intricately entwined. A
modern reader might be surprised to discover that a book written in 1859 could
have such a “modern” feel in pacing, but it really is a quick read if only
because you can’t put it down. A
charming approach the author uses to create intimacy with the reader is to
break up the book into separate first-person narratives with many different
characters each taking a turn at bat and giving their perspective on what is
happening.
We know that Marian Halcombe is
intelligent, loyal, and forthright, speaks her mind, because of her impressions as she relates
them. We know others regard her with
admiration because they say so. We know
Walter Hartright is the hero because he tells us he suspects the ladies are in danger and he wants to help them. We don’t entirely know who the villains are
at first, but slowly we begin to realize from the testimony of others that some
people are not to be trusted.
The movie similarly sets us up right away on the characters
of Marian, played by Alexis Smith; and Walter, played by Gig Young. We know right off the bat they are to be
trusted, because both director and novelist know we have to come to the table
trusting somebody. We experience the
mystery through them. I like Gig Young
in the role. He’s stalwart and
transparent, and we need to see him as the Rock of Gibraltar.
In the book, Marian is described as tall and graceful, but with an
unattractive face. Some critics may
fault the film or at least smile at it because Alexis Smith was not
unattractive. However, the previously
mentioned BBC offerings featured actresses in the role who were also
attractive, so it seems a moot point among directors to regard that bit of
information on Marian as unimportant.
And so it is.
Miss Smith is warm and natural in her role, speaks her accent with a greater ease than the other Americans, enjoyed good reviews, but this was one of the last films she made for Warner Brothers, having finally worked her way to star billing.
Walter Hartright is called to the mansion of Frederick
Fairlie to teach his nieces to draw.
In the book, the young women are half-sisters, who share a mother. Their parents are all deceased and Laura, the
younger, is Fairlie’s ward. Laura,
through her father, is the heiress of a great fortune. Marian, who is a few years older, has only a
small income. They are inseparable and
devoted to each other. Marian tells
Walter at the beginning that neither she nor Laura can do without the other, so
he must please both of them. In the end,
he does.
In the movie, Marian and Laura are cousins. I’m not sure what necessitated this
particular change in script, but the novel deals with Laura’s father having an
illegitimate child, and maybe this was too close a relationship to make the
censors happy. Beats me. That child is Anne, who in this movie becomes
yet another cousin. She is a near
lookalike to Laura. So, in this movie
both Anne and Laura are played by Eleanor Parker.
I won’t go play-by-play from here on in, but what the movie
does change from the novel is a skillful paring down of a very long story to
under two hours of film. The movie
should be taken separately from the novel as its own creation, and will be best
appreciated as such.
For instance, and here is a big fat spoiler—in the movie,
Walter falls in love with Laura, but later circumstances change and he falls in
love with Marian. In the novel, Walter
falls in love with Laura and marries her.
In this case, I prefer the movie version. Laura is a weaker character and by the end of
the novel, quite emotionally and physically dependent on Marian and Walter to
take care of her. She draws our
sympathy, but does not seem like she should be an object of passion. Marian, however, has been at Walter’s side
through thick and thin, helping him and facing danger. He tells us how much he admires her, and
other characters in the story do, too. One villain in particular is infatuated with
her. It seems more logical that Walter would be, too. The author’s only reason for Walter’s
romantic disinterest in Marian seems to be that she’s ugly.
Eleanor Parker, one of Hollywood's most gifted actresses, is quite good in the dual roles of Laura and
Anne. Laura is charming, lighthearted,
and unaffected. Anne, who has just
escaped from an asylum, is tense, with a wandering mind and an overly emotional
response to others. There may be a bit
of scenery chewing here, but Anne’s at the edge and sometimes all an actress
can do is go to the edge with her.
John Abbott plays Frederick Fairlie, plays him so well you
wonder why he didn’t star in films instead of just play bit parts or uncredited
walk-ons. Frederick is a self-absorbed
fop, dramatically fussing about his nerves and comically displaying a
disinterest in everything but himself.
Mr. Abbott is spot-on and terrific in this role. He’s hysterical. It’s like this guy knew he was given the role
of his life. He takes the baton and runs
with it.
Poor Curt Bois, who I think gets one line in the film, is
his bullied servant. With a slackened
stance and hangdog look, he seems to be channeling Buster Keaton in a couple
scenes, and makes the most of his part.
John Emery is Sir Percival, who is engaged to marry
Laura. He’s charming one minute, and a
villain the next. He’s out for her
money.
The best for last.
Sydney Greenstreet. It’s as if
Wilkie Collins had Sydney Greenstreet in mind when he wrote the complicated
character Count Fosco. A brilliant man
of self indulgence, who plays human beings like chess pieces, and is so wicked
that writes his own rules. And usually
gets away with it.
We know early on Mr. Greenstreet must be wicked,
because the director gives us a hint at the very beginning of the movie. Gig Young is walking in the twilight mist of
the English countryside of the back lot.
He meets Anne, learns a bit of her story, learns she is running away,
and then she bolts as a carriage approaches. A man asks if Young has seen an escapee
from the asylum. Inside the carriage where
Gig Young can’t see him, is Sydney Greenstreet with a scowl on his face. He looks mean.
We next see Greenstreet when he pops through the French windows
from the terrace as Mr. Young is welcomed to the mansion by Alexis
Smith. She is delighted to see Mr.
Greenstreet, and treats him like a fond and funny uncle. It's as if he is a different person. So, we see from the start his character
is duplicitous.
We are quickly fed the plot in bite-size chunks—about
asylums (there will be more than one escape before the movie is through), about
inheritance, and getting robbed of one’s inheritance, and how to foil the bad
guys.
Alexis, by virtue of her being the older girl and because
John Abbott can’t be bothered, takes responsibility for the younger Laura. When she senses Gig Young falling for Laura,
she warns him that Laura’s already engaged and he has to knock it off. We see, though he does not, that Alexis is
falling in love with him. A few nice very light touches by the director indicate her desire. In one scene,
he questions Mr. Greenstreet's motives, and she tells him not to overstep
his bounds.
The camera is on her as she
turns her back to him and proceeds to leave the room, but she thinks the better
of it, softens, and turns to address him again.
The camera shows us he has already turned his back to her
and is walking out to the terrace to be with Laura. Camera cuts back to Alexis, who looks like a despondent
wallflower at a country dance. We can
imagine she has been in this situation before.
In another scene he plans to leave the estate because
Laura is going to marry John Emery. He kisses Alexis’ hand and she leans over
him slightly as his head is bowed. She
lingers as if she will touch him or say something, but doesn’t. These are great clues that will make their
union logical at the end, except we get no clues from Gig Young. The director doesn’t set up any scenes with
his reactions to her. His later declaration of love for her seems a surprise, to us as well as her.
The director gives us some other shots though, that are
splendid, uniting the 1940s with the 1850s in a neat way. Lots of ground-to-ceiling film noir shots
that show menacing figures, a few shadows on the wall.
There’s a spiffy scene shot from the ceiling
to the floor through the crystal jungle of a chandelier. It is morning, and a few characters leave the
room through a door, closing it behind them.
Then, instantly it is night, the chandelier is lit, the door
opens, and another character walks through.
It is a seamless showing of the passage of time.
On another occasion, Gig Young and Eleanor Parker are spied on through a telescope, and the camera takes a view of them through the
telescope that looks like an iris shot from a silent movie. Then it opens up, and we are no longer
watching them from a distance; we are right behind them. We could touch them.
I also really like the score of this movie. Max Steiner is credited, but some of the English
country ballad flourishes sound authentic to me, and I wonder if he adapted
some traditional music?
Laura, who has now married Sir Percival, may be in great
danger.
We suspect this when Alexis, who
has spent a few months with relatives in the country while Laura and Sir Percival
are in Europe on their honeymoon, returns to silly John Abbott’s mansion to
wait for them.
Hey, none of the servants
are familiar!
They’re all new!
Including marvelous
Anita Sharp-Bolster, who we discussed here in this previous post.
That woman, with her stupendous profile, could play scary/funny like
nobody.
Alexis is given a different room on the other side of the
mansion! Away from Laura!
Alexis confronts John Abbott about this. He attempts a tantrum, but his blood sugar level is too low.
Alexis discovers that Sydney Greenstreet is living here now with
his wife, played by Agnes Moorehead. She
is an enigma, and takes the character from the novel to a different, more
intense, level. We may puzzle at
Greenstreet’s hold over her, that allows him to taunt and manipulate her, but still
waters run deep. There’s a lot more
going on here. We will soon see she’s
not just a wax figure under her husband’s thumb. Miss Moorehead does so much with a small role, it's like she conducting a master class in acting.
When the honeymooners return, Laura is a changed person—haughty,
gaudily bejeweled and attempting to smoke at the dinner table. (GAD!)
She has not replied to Alexis’ letters to her during their separation.
Back in her room that night, Alexis writes her fears in her
diary that Laura is lost to her. This is
about the only scene, except for some beginning narration by Gig Young, that
tries to imitate the novel in first-person perspective, but that’s hard to keep
up in a movie.
Later Laura sneaks into Alexis’ room, tells her she has to act out a part because she’s in danger. Alexis gets to do some girl power stunts when
she climbs out on a ledge in a storm to eavesdrop (quite literally under the eaves)
on the plans of the bad guys.
She returns to her room and we see her figure in a shadow on
the wall as she is changing from a rain-soaked nightgown to a dry one. Then the curtains part, and it’s Sydney
Greenstreet! He thinks she knows too
much. He’s also attracted to her.
There’s a nifty exchange between them when she asks, “Was it
necessary to hide there and shame me as well?”
He responds with that gravely-voiced huff, “I was only too
happy to discover at last something as flawless in form as it is in spirit.” It took me several viewings of this movie to
realize that meant he’d been watching her undress. Yes, I am that obtuse.
There’s nothing quite so charming as Victorian lechery.
And, funny enough, just before this a scene where we hear
John Emery muttering his frustration and he appears, if I’ve heard right, to
use the word “bugger”. Obviously, to us
in the US this is just a funny sounding oath, but in British English it’s a
vulgarity. It may have lost quite a bit
of its punch through the decades and no longer so offensive, but at the time
story is set, it was quite vulgar and author Wilkie Collins never used it. I guess those minding the store didn’t know
that.
Actor and screenwriter 1, Production Code 0.
Because Anne and Laura are played by the same actress, we do
have one Patty Duke Show scene where
they’re together, but it’s not overdone.
I don’t think we ever mistake one for the other because they behave
differently, and Anne’s makeup, with her dark circles under her hollow eyes
indicates she is sickly. But others
mistake them, and I won’t tell you what happens because of it. So there.
Mr. Greenstreet gloats over Alexis when she refuses his
offer to be his mistress, predicting she will return of her own accord. She does, when she thinks Laura’s in too big
a jam and Walter unable to help. She
offers herself to the big guy if he lets Laura go.
Alexis Smith appeared with Sydney Greenstreet in
“Conflict”(1945) discussed here, and she enjoyed working with him.
On “The Woman in White”, her husband in real
life, Craig Stevens, was quoted in
The
Women of Warner Brothers by David Bubbeo (McFarland and Co., Inc.:
Jefferson, NC, 2002) “Alexis was mesmerized by Sydney Greenstreet…He memorized
the entire script.
He knew everyone else’s
role.
She just thought he was
fascinating to be around.”
In the novel, Marian describes Fosco as a man, “who devours
pastry as I have never yet seen it devoured by any human beings but girls at
boarding-schools…” In a nutshell we have
Fosco’s love of food, and Marian’s witty sense of humor.
In another passage, she tries to get Laura to leave her
cruel husband, “Are you to break your heart to set his mind at ease? No man under heaven deserves these sacrifices
from us women. Men! They are the enemies of our innocence and our
peace—they drag us away from our parents’ love and our sisters’ friendship—they
take us body and soul to themselves and fasten our helpless lives to theirs as
they chain up a dog to his kennel. And what
does the best of them give us in return?
Let me go, Laura—I’m mad when I think of it!”
Doesn’t sound very Victorian, does it? The book also has an astounding subplot of
murder by a 19th century style Italian Mafia.
Watch the movie and enjoy it for all it is, which is
plenty. But treat yourself to the book
as well. Hollywood exploited popular
literature and classic literature, but also introduced a fair number of its audience to these
books for the first time.
A lovely co-dependence. Like
Marian and Laura.
