A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Mr. Skeffington (Vincent Sherman, 1944)

Bette Davis and Claude Rains in Mr. Skeffington
Cast: Bette Davis, Claude Rains, Walter Abel, George Coulouris, Richard Waring, Marjorie Riordan, Robert Shayne, John Alexander, Jerome Cowan, Johnny Mitchell, Dorothy Peterson, Peter Whitney, Bill Kennedy. Screenplay: Julius J. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein, based on a novel by Elizabeth von Arnim. Cinematography: Ernest Haller. Art direction: Robert M. Haas. Film editing: Ralph Dawson. Music: Franz Waxman.

Although the title role of Mr. Skeffington belongs to Claude Rains, the movie is really centered on Mrs. Skeffington, née Fanny Trellis, played by Bette Davis, a fact reflected in the Oscar nominations to Davis for best actress and to Rains for supporting actor. It's a film that gives Davis the opportunity to run the age gamut, from youthful beauty to haggard old lady. Unfortunately, although the screenplay is credited to the usually reliable Julius and Philip Epstein, who also served as producers, the director is the undistinguished Vincent Sherman, and the resulting film is tediously conventional. It lacks some of the verve of Hollywood movies of the era that was often supplied by a gallery of character players, leaving Davis and Rains to do what they can to carry the story: Spoiled, flighty woman marries a rich man she doesn't love, both of them suffer but are reconciled at the end when she's old and he's blind. It has the distinction of being one of the few films of the period to deal directly with antisemitism, but it doesn't do so with much real conviction. Still, Davis is always fun to watch, even if the nearly two and a half hour run time tends to challenge even that fun.