Anne Whitfield -- Susan Waverly's White Christmas

 

Susan Waverly, the granddaughter of General Tom Waverly, has a larger role in White Christmas (1954) than might be noticed at first viewing.  She has few lines and is a minor character.  Upon successive viewings (at least once every Yuletide season would rack up a lot of times watching this movie -- some of us watch it more often than that) we see that Susan is a major player.  She's in almost every pivotal scene.

Anne Whitfield was about fifteen years old when she played the part of Susan.  Her passing last March at the age of 85 brought to mind how much I've enjoyed her work over the years -- in television guest roles, and on radio, especially as one of the daughters of Alice Faye and Phil Harris on their radio comedy program -- and certainly as Susan Waverly in White Christmas.  According to her obit online (which you can read here), Anne celebrated the 70th anniversary of the movie by watching it with her family last Christmas. 

Happily for us, a few years ago she did a charming podcast interview with Tammy Tuckey and discussed her impressions of working on the movie. Listen to it here.

We meet Susan for the first time as she enters with an armload of firewood behind her grandfather, played by Dean Jagger (whom, Anne says in the podcast interview was "a sweetie").  Musical performers Vera-Ellen and Rosemary Clooney have just arrived, booked here over the Christmas holidays, to work in Dean Jagger's Vermont Inn.  With them are Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye, big-time Broadway producers and performers who have latched onto the ladies.  When Bing and Danny see Dean Jagger coming through the door they are shocked: he is their old army general, and their bumbling salutes and obvious respect are noticed by Susan.  It's quite endearing how she beams with pride over her grandfather (and will again in a famous scene at the end of the movie).

More than pride, Susan has that look of delight to be a fly on the wall in the world of grownups, where from the safety of her own innocence and perhaps insignificance, she can discover all that is profitable about people-watching.  And to Anne's credit, she does look deeply into the faces of the other actors when they are speaking.  This is not only generous to her castmates, it actually strengthens the character of Susan.

We don't really know much about Susan's backstory.  She lives in the inn with her grandfather and their housekeeper, played by the wonderful Mary Wickes.  We assume she is in the care of her grandfather, now retired from the military, because she has lost her parents, but this is never mentioned.  We don't know how long Mary Wickes has been in the general's employ.  Her crusty, no-nonsense repartee with him, particularly when he blows up at her for sending both of his two suits to the cleaners and she reminds him that when he was in the army, "it took 15,000 men to take my place," that perhaps she has been with the family for a long time, maybe even helped raise Susan.  Miss Wickes and Mr. Jagger do seem something like an old married couple at times.

Susan is quiet, kindly, and respectful.  She has no scenes of teenage angst or drama.  We do not see her friends.  However, she is not mousy or a shy child; she actually seems to enjoy being included in the grownups' world.  She moves about the room during the cast party with a tray of cups of coffee, but we also see her mingling in the background, laughing and talking.  When Danny Kaye and Vera-Ellen announce their pretend engagement, Susan is in the background, but standing right between them in the shot.

Though she lugs firewood and acts as a waitress in the inn's restaurant, she does not seem to be an overworked drudge, but gives the impression of enjoying tagging along with her grandfather and noticing everyone about her.  She understands the importance of making the inn profitable.  When Bing and Danny come up with the idea of bringing their roadshow to the inn, she remarks, "This will bring in business, Grandpa!"

We find her importance to the setting of the inn, if not important to the plot of the movie, and yet she is present at turns in the plot.  When Mary Wickes eavesdrops on Bing's phone call to New York and misinterprets what she hears, causing problems and misunderstandings, Susan interrupts her with an armload of parcels, "Here's the laundry, Emma."

When Rosemary Clooney trots off to New York, putting distance between her and Bing, Susan brings the note to Vera-Ellen to give her the news.

When Danny Kaye has to keep the general busy so he can't watch the TV show Bing Crosby is appearing on to plan a big surprise for him, Susan offers, "Grandpa, the battery's dead on the jeep."  When Danny fakes an injury to keep the general's attention on him, Susan smiles, catching Danny's wink.  She is not just an observer of grownups' antics; this time she is part of the adventure.

There is famously that lovely look of pride on her face when her grandfather comes down the stairs in his Army uniform (she rates a closeup), and she takes his arm.  "Grandpa, you look wonderful!"  They head into the large restaurant where Bing, Danny, and the general's old unit pay him tribute.   Susan and Mary Wickes step back and give the general his moment in the spotlight. But they are there in the background and we see them.

When the long-awaited snowfall happens, the general steps out onto the porch and basks in its loveliness--and the knowledge that the local ski areas will be booming and so will his business.  Susan and Mary Wickes are standing together in the background, his "womenfolk," moved by the moment and happy for him.

At the end of the film, when we take that long pan down the tables of ex-GIs and their families, everyone toasting to the sentiment of the holiday, Susan sits next to her grandfather at the head table and passes a champagne glass.  Perhaps she gets to take her first sip of the bubbly.  She beams a beautiful smile, enjoying being grown up and yet not so grown up that she will ever forget the excitement of the evening.

Just before "The End," if you look hard, you can see Susan leaning over to kiss Grandpa's cheek a second time.

Anne Whitfield, no older than Susan Waverly, seems to have been just as decent, humble, and mature a young lady as the part she played.  Perhaps that is why, as she stated in the podcast interview, that the role was enlarged by director Michael Curtiz, giving her an extra line, a bit of business, including her in the background of yet another scene--because he liked her.  Me too.

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TODAY, December 19th, I'll be a guest on the podcast Forgotten Hollywood, hosted by Doug Hess.  We'll discuss Christmas movies and my book, Christmas in Classic Films, and renew auld acquaintance with some of our favorites.  I hope you can listen in here at this link.

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Jacqueline T. Lynch is the author of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. and Movies in Our Time - Hollywood Mirrors and Mimics the Twentieth Century and Hollywood Fights Fascism and Christmas in Classic Films. TO JOIN HER READERS' GROUP - follow this link for a free book as a thank-you for joining.

The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima - 1952

Tomorrow, Friday, October 13^th, marks the 100^th anniversary of the “Miracle of the Sun,” the final apparition in Fátima, Portugal, of the Virgin Mary after several successive months of appearing to three children.  We turn our attention today to The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima (1952), which dramatizes these events.

The story is inherently dramatic, involving the supernatural, as well as historical fact, but the obvious third leg of the stool—our human capacity for faith and what we choose to do about it—is not as strong an element in this movie as it might be.  Much of the unquestioning faith of the children, and the doubtful faith of their elders, seem conveyed as a lesson learned by rote.

One is tempted to regard this movie as an attempt by Warner Bros. to cash in on the tremendous critical and financial success of The Song of Bernadette (1943), made nine years earlier at 20^th Century-Fox, and which garnered several Academy Awards.  That movie addressed the visions of the Virgin Mary at Lourdes, France, in 1858 to Bernadette Soubrious. We discussed that movie here in this previous post.  Here, from that post:

The Song of Bernadette (1943) pits man against miracle in a many-layered universe. The first layer of this complicated universe is the historical 19th century event on which the story is based.  Then, there is the book by Franz Werfel and the World War II climate under which that book was written and published.  Finally, there is Hollywood, that tries diplomatically to be both pious and frank, spiritual and temporal, to present a money-making story, and yet present it under the auspices of a religious experience…

Man is by nature a creature which believes. We have religions and sometimes complicated protocols of faith. We have superstitions, and we have good luck and bad luck, and we have worries and fears and paranoia, and that is all part of what we willingly believe without proof. On the opposite side of man’s nature is an innate skepticism.

Someone who believes in the efficacy of the prayers of his own faith, may disbelieve the efficacy of prayers of another faith.  An atheist may disbelieve the efficacy of any prayer at all, and yet wholeheartedly believe in luck, or horoscopes, or that a co-worker who gives him a dirty look is out to get him.  It may be the co-worker is just in a bad mood, but that does not shake the belief of the paranoid.  A lot of logical, sensible people knock on wood.  Even people who believe in nothing believe in something, even if it is only the superiority of their own opinions.

So, we believe, regularly, commonly, without proof.  It may be part of our DNA.  But at the same time we are skeptical over someone else’s experiences.  The Song of Bernadette shows these disparate sides of human nature and the clinging onto of human dignity more than it puts forward of one belief over another, or promotes miracles.

That The Song of Bernadette dramatizes the struggle of faith as something normal and yet at the same time, monumental, is one of its most intriguing elements.  There are many other factors which, added together, simply make Bernadette a much better movie, including a strong cast of familiar character actors, and a strong script.

The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima relies on a cast largely unknown to us, though there are numerous uncredited extras that may make you play the old game “spot the villager”: Mae Clark, Jack Kruschen, J. Carroll Nash, and Anne Whitfield (our Susan Waverly from White Christmas).  Jay Novello has a role as the father of two of the children, but the only featured adult role in this film belongs to Gilbert Roland, a favorite of mine whom we saw here in The French Line (1954) and We Were Strangers (1949).  Mr. Roland’s role is a fictional character, a lovable rogue who does not believe, but who attempts to protect the kids when townspeople and officials go after them from spreading tales about being visited by the Virgin Mary.

Perhaps the biggest problem with the film is that it centers on the three kids.  Susan Whitney is Lucia, the eldest of the three who is the leader, and her cousins, Jacinta and Francisco, who are brother and sister, played by Sherry Jackson and Sammy Ogg.  All three child actors went on to do television in the 1950s, but Susan Whitney had the briefest career.  Sherry Jackson had an uncredited role as an extra in The Great Caruso (1951), which we discussed here.

 Unfortunately, there is no depth to the children’s roles as written or as played, so they come across as something of cardboard cutouts.  It might have been better if this had intentionally been made as a children’s film, giving them a stronger screen presence and focusing on their world rather than the angry grownups, who disbelieve them, try to silence them, imprison them, and ultimately relent in a burst of dancing sunlight.

Conversely, it might have also been a better film had it addressed that wider world in which these awesome, and harrowing, adventures take place.  That is the chief difference that would have stood apart from The Song of Bernadette, which had its roots in a novel about an event from the middle of the nineteenth century.  The Fátima apparitions occurred in one of the most tumultuous years of the twentieth century, and set the foreboding prologue for what was to come in decades hence.  It is the modern aspects of the story of Fátima that makes it so compelling, even eerie, and would have made a stronger film.

The historical setting begins before the 1917 start of the film story and extends beyond its epilogue of the modern basilica in 1951 at the site of the former apparitions.  In October 1910 Portugal endured a violent political revolution, one consequence of which was the closing of many churches and imprisonment of many clergy.  The three children of the story are poor, living a secluded rural life as shepherds, pastorinhos, and are unaware of most of the politics of their own country, let alone the enormous events taking place in the rest of Europe.  We are in the thick of World War I, begun with an assassin’s bullet and toppling the governments of several nations, leaving millions of dead strewn across muddy battlefields, and millions of refugees starving.

One government in peril is czarist Russia.  The coming communist regime will have consequences for the rest of the world, for the rest of the century.  When the Virgin Mary appears to the three children, she brings messages of future chastisement of the world if people do not repent and pray, including the daily praying of the Rosary, and the coming of a worse war if her warnings are not heeded.  She also tells the children, who are illiterate, they must learn to read and write, so that they may tell others of her messages to them.  The two younger children will die in the impending Spanish Influenza pandemic, which killed possibly as many as 100 million people worldwide.  These are only some of the modern events that serve as backdrop to the Marian apparitions of Fátima that made it a quite different tale to dramatize than the backdrop to the events at Lourdes, and which should have induced Warner Bros. to intentionally make Fatima a movie with a different slant and not lazily follow a template of how simple villagers take to miracles.

Interestingly, the real-life Lucia, who, as the Virgin Mary instructed her, did learn to read and write and carefully documented her experiences, recalled that when they were first told to pray that Russia might be converted, she had never heard of Russia.  The kids thought Russia was probably another little girl who needed prayers.  At the time of these apparitions from May to October 1917, Russia had not yet even become communist.  The request for prayers for Russia’s conversion was a prediction.

So too was the prediction of a second, more brutal war.  Though the Soviet Union eventually collapsed and the Cold War ended without nuclear war, still it does not take too much of a stretch of the imagination to concede the warning about the future spreading of Russia’s “errors” to the world include the current threat to overthrow our own government and democracy at the direction of the soulless Vladimir Putin, with the help of his acolyte Bannon and his puppet, Trump.  The political background of the story about three kids entrusted with heavenly messages, dire warnings, and even well-publicized three “secrets” is enough material to make a movie that is not only entertaining, but even astounding.

The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima remains today as a simple primer to show at Catholic school assemblies, but is little more than that, and I can’t imagine that was what the execs at Warner Bros. really wanted to create.  Perhaps miracles, in any form, are really too uncomfortable for us to tackle.  We want miracles, nice miracles, like winning the lottery, but when faced with miracles that carry so much weight and consequence, perhaps we really just don’t have the “courage of our convictions.”

The Miracle of the Sun was an event well documented by the press, as tens of thousands gathered to the spot where the three kids observed their last encounter together with the Holy Mother.  They had requested from her a sign that the grownups would believe them.  They were getting a little sick of being told to shut up, and put in jail.  The Blessed Mother came through big time.  While the multitudes stood in the rain, the sun came out and wobbled around, zigzagged a bit, changed colors, seemed to pulsate, and then the sun starting growing bigger, as if it was hurtling toward the earth.  The people panic.  This part in the movie where the sun comes at us is pretty scary, even despite the simple technical craft of the day.  You may find yourself running for the exits.

Then the show stops, and all the people, though having been standing in the rain for some hours, are completely dry, and the ground is all dry, and the newspaper men have quite a story to tell in their next edition.

In the movie, the rascal Gilbert Roland becomes a true believer when he sees the Miracle of the Sun, and we see him in the epilogue talking to Lucia, now a nun, many years after the event.  Oddly, the director chose to use the same child actress, Susan Whitney, to play the adult Lucia, but who speaks lip-synching to the voice of an adult actress.  It has a weird effect and seems a very poor compromise at establishing the continuity between the child and the adult visionary.

Lucia lived to be 97 years old, and died in 2005.  This past May 13^th, on the 100^th anniversary of the first apparition of the Virgin Mary at Fátima, Pope Francis canonized the two younger children, Jacinta and Francisco.  World-wide prayer services will commemorate the October 13^th “Miracle of the Sun” and pilgrims to Fátima will likely add a great number to those who regularly flock to that site.  Fátima, unlike the well-intentioned movie, is indeed a modern tale with political and social threads; that is it’s compelling “hook” and is still with us.

Letters in Old Movies

Humphrey Bogart stands on the train platform in the rain, reading the letter Ingrid Bergman has written to him.  The next few frames of the movie are focused on the letter, its handwriting melting to a blur as the ink bleeds down the page from the rain.

Today we join the Words, Words,Words Blogathon sponsored by the Classic Movie Blog Association.

Some classic films, such as The Letter (1940) and Love Letters (1945) discussed here, and The Shop Around the Corner (1940) discussed here, have plots that are predicated on a letter.  A letter is the catalyst for conflict in the story.  There are a lot of movie plots we could add to this category, like A Letter to Three Wives (1949).  A letter is the incriminating evidence, or provokes a mystery, or a love letter may bring the wrong lovers together, or incite jealousy. 

But the use of letters, moreover, showing the handwriting on the letter is such a typical device used in old movies that we might regard it a cliché, though I don’t think I’ve ever seen it parodied.  It certainly could be, but perhaps the image of handwritten letters is so natural to this era that we accept it without thinking.  In this previous post, readers responded with what were their favorite images commonly seen in old movies: the passage of time with flipping calendar pages, or the candle stick desk phones, men’s broad-brimmed hats, etc.  We can also see all of these in modern movies set in the 1930s or 1940s, and we can see them in parody skits, but I don’t think the use of a handwritten letter has been used in decades since the era when handwritten letter were the major form of communication, in business and in personal use.

I especially love moments in old movies where a letter has nothing to do with the plot, but it’s there as a convenience.  Consider White Christmas (1954), where Anne Whitfield passes a letter written by Rosemary Clooney to her sister, Vera-Ellen.  The letter informs Vera-Ellen that Rosemary, not wanting to stand in the way of what she thinks is her sister’s impending marriage, breaks up their stage act and has taken a job in New York.  Vera-Ellen merely glances at the letter to know all the contents, and passes it to Danny Kaye, who, likewise, merely glances at the letter to know all its contents.  They may be speed readers, but the director gives us a few frames of the actual letter to read because we don’t read as fast.

We are included in the letter reading.  It is as if Vera-Ellen has passed the letter around to us too.  The audience shares the news “real-time.”  We are reading over her shoulder.

Who really wrote the letters in the movies?  Was it a staff of talented handwriting stand-ins?  A studio secretary with a high school prize for penmanship?  I’d love to know.  A reader commented once that the handwriting in two different letters in two different movies looked the same.

I suppose the most famous letter in literature is the very long and detailed letter Mr. Darcy wrote to Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, explaining the back story of his relationship with Mr. Wickham and the treachery done to his sister, and why Darcy interfered with Mr. Bingley’s relationship with Elizabeth’s sister Jane.  It’s a bomb dropped in the middle of the story, and turns the whole plot on its head. 

He may be a closemouthed fellow when it comes to talking, but in a letter, Darcy goes on forever, yadda, yadda, yadda.  We would not likely see such a long letter printed verbatim in a modern novel. Even modern film adaptations of Darcy’s famous letter tend to abbreviate his epistle, or illustrate its points instead in dramatic flashback scenes.  The directors must think modern audiences will not sit still for a little juicy letter reading.

In many schools today, cursive handwriting is no longer taught.  Many of us have youngsters in our families who cannot write or read cursive handwriting.  This is unfortunate on many levels, most especially that they will not be able to read historic documents, including the personal letters preserved in their own families.

But it also means they will not be able to read Rosemary Clooney’s letter to Vera Ellen, or Ingrid Berman’s letter to Bogie, or any of the notes and handwritten clues as to why the actors are behaving the way they do—remember, their actions are not always explained.  Reading the letter saves us from having to say what has happened off screen.

“Why is Bogie sad, Mommy?”  Now, doesn't that just tear your heart out? 

The letter writing and letter reading scenes are passive, yet still powerfully dramatic.  The letters convey intimate news.  Sometimes they are kissed or embraced because they represent the person that wrote them.  Sometimes they are stashed quickly in a hiding place.  Sometimes they are burned, or crumpled and thrown away. 

This is what Bogie does when the goodbye letter that kicks his guts out has become illegible from the rain, substituting for tears, as Ingrid’s words bleed down the page.  He stands on the steps of the now moving train, crushes the soggy paper in his fist, and tosses it to the tracks.

Deleting an email, or "un-friending" someone was never so dramatic, or so satisfying.

What are some other favorite “letter scenes” of yours?

Please have a look at the other great posts in the Words, Words, Words blogathon.

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"Lynch’s book is organized and well-written – and has plenty of amusing observations – but when it comes to describing Blyth’s movies, Lynch’s writing sparkles." - Ruth Kerr, Silver Screenings

"Jacqueline T. Lynch creates a poignant and thoroughly-researched mosaic of memories of a fine, upstanding human being who also happens to be a legendary entertainer." - Deborah Thomas, Java's Journey

"One of the great strengths of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is that Lynch not only gives an excellent overview of Blyth's career -- she offers detailed analyses of each of Blyth's roles -- but she puts them in the context of the larger issues of the day."- Amanda Garrett, Old Hollywood Films

"Jacqueline's book will hopefully cause many more people to take a look at this multitalented woman whose career encompassed just about every possible aspect of 20th Century entertainment." - Laura Grieve, Laura's Miscellaneous Musings

"Jacqueline T. Lynch’s Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is an extremely well researched undertaking that is a must for all Blyth fans." - Annette Bochenek, Hometowns to Hollywood

Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. 

by Jacqueline T. Lynch

The first book on the career of actress Ann Blyth. Multitalented and remarkably versatile, Blyth began on radio as a child, appeared on Broadway at the age of twelve in Lillian Hellman's Watch on the Rhine, and enjoyed a long and diverse career in films, theatre, television, and concerts. A sensitive dramatic actress, the youngest at the time to be nominated for her role in Mildred Pierce (1945), she also displayed a gift for comedy, and was especially endeared to fans for her expressive and exquisite lyric soprano, which was showcased in many film and stage musicals. Still a popular guest at film festivals, lovely Ms. Blyth remains a treasure of the Hollywood's golden age.

The eBook and paperback are available from Amazon and CreateSpace, which is the printer.  You can also order it from my Etsy shop. It is also available at the Broadside Bookshop, 247 Main Street, Northampton, Massachusetts.

If you wish a signed copy, then email me at JacquelineTLynch@gmail.com and I'll get back to you with the details.

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My new syndicated column SILVER SCREEN, GOLDEN YEARS, on classic film is up at Go60  or check with your local paper.