John Ford is said to have directed part of this but, as it developed, he and Ethel Waters couldn't stand one another and Ford turned the helm over to Elia Kazan. (It doesn't look typical of the work of either man.) Basically, the eponymous character is a registered nurse who has left her job in Boston and returned to her childhood home in the African-American neighborhood of a rural Southern town. She lives with her black grandmother although Pinky herself couldn't look more "white" if she'd been Jeanne Crain or somebody.
At first, as Crain wanders about the little town, folks think she's white but when it is revealed that she has a black grandmother, Ethel Waters, she's treated with the amiable disdain blacks in the rural South had to get along with in 1949.
The scene in which her True Colors are revealed is emblematic. Crain visits a black man in the seedier part of the colored neighborhood. Taking note of this, a young black woman is seized with jealousy. An altercation erupts. The redneck cops arrive and break up the fight, and when the black woman says something like, "She ain't nothing but a colored gal herself," the cops slap her around. The Head Cop turns to Crain and asks with a chuckle, "It ain't true, is it?" Upon finding that it IS, the cops slap CRAIN around! It's interesting, from a sociological point of view, that Jeanne Crain, despite her severe hair style, looks and acts as white as any of the good townsfolk. It's that drop of black blood that is the criterial attribute. Genetically she may be only one sixteenth African, but she's coded as "colored" by everyone who knows about it. This is known as "the social construction of reality." She's colored not because she's mostly of African descent but because everyone agrees that she's colored. The same is true of Halle Berry (half "white") and Barack Obama (our first "black" president).
Jeanne Crain as Pinky demonstrates her range as an actress, which isn't much but isn't dismissable either. She's a beautiful woman and in "Leave Her To Heaven", a few years earlier, was radiant. But there she was cheerful and self contained, and here she's sullen and pouting -- and that's about it. Ethel Waters gets the job done. Ethel Barrymore does rather more than that, and the supporting players do a professional job.
One thing that struck me is that, except for a couple of incidents, race really played little part in the story. An outsider from Boston disrupts the little town and insinuates herself into the good graces (and the will) of the town's richest dying old lady. The mansion and its contacts go to the damned Yankee nurse instead of the local folks who know tradition when they see it.
No one should be ashamed of his or her participation in this production. It's the product of seasoned talent, except for Elia Kazan who was just getting started. It doesn't preach. There are no Big Speeches about racism. In fact, the retired judge who sees to it that Crain gets Barrymore's mansion leaves her, saying that the outcome of the trial contesting the will, though it has gotten Crain the crumbling mansion, will bring no advantages to the community. That thought is insightful and neatly expressed.
The denouement is improbable in the extreme. It's unlikely that Pinky would decide to stay in that rude community, much less turn her old mansion into a school for children. And it's frankly IMPOSSIBLE that when her white doctor boyfriend from Boston arrives, eager for marriage, she would throw him out and decide to stay with "her own kind." A NURSE -- rejecting an opportunity to marry a DOCTOR? The last shot has the camera descend on Crain's glowing face as she rings the bell for Em's School For Girls to start. A heavenly choir may be heard. She's found fulfillment. That happily sentimental shot could have come from John Ford, who sides with tradition even if nobody else does.
At first, as Crain wanders about the little town, folks think she's white but when it is revealed that she has a black grandmother, Ethel Waters, she's treated with the amiable disdain blacks in the rural South had to get along with in 1949.
The scene in which her True Colors are revealed is emblematic. Crain visits a black man in the seedier part of the colored neighborhood. Taking note of this, a young black woman is seized with jealousy. An altercation erupts. The redneck cops arrive and break up the fight, and when the black woman says something like, "She ain't nothing but a colored gal herself," the cops slap her around. The Head Cop turns to Crain and asks with a chuckle, "It ain't true, is it?" Upon finding that it IS, the cops slap CRAIN around! It's interesting, from a sociological point of view, that Jeanne Crain, despite her severe hair style, looks and acts as white as any of the good townsfolk. It's that drop of black blood that is the criterial attribute. Genetically she may be only one sixteenth African, but she's coded as "colored" by everyone who knows about it. This is known as "the social construction of reality." She's colored not because she's mostly of African descent but because everyone agrees that she's colored. The same is true of Halle Berry (half "white") and Barack Obama (our first "black" president).
Jeanne Crain as Pinky demonstrates her range as an actress, which isn't much but isn't dismissable either. She's a beautiful woman and in "Leave Her To Heaven", a few years earlier, was radiant. But there she was cheerful and self contained, and here she's sullen and pouting -- and that's about it. Ethel Waters gets the job done. Ethel Barrymore does rather more than that, and the supporting players do a professional job.
One thing that struck me is that, except for a couple of incidents, race really played little part in the story. An outsider from Boston disrupts the little town and insinuates herself into the good graces (and the will) of the town's richest dying old lady. The mansion and its contacts go to the damned Yankee nurse instead of the local folks who know tradition when they see it.
No one should be ashamed of his or her participation in this production. It's the product of seasoned talent, except for Elia Kazan who was just getting started. It doesn't preach. There are no Big Speeches about racism. In fact, the retired judge who sees to it that Crain gets Barrymore's mansion leaves her, saying that the outcome of the trial contesting the will, though it has gotten Crain the crumbling mansion, will bring no advantages to the community. That thought is insightful and neatly expressed.
The denouement is improbable in the extreme. It's unlikely that Pinky would decide to stay in that rude community, much less turn her old mansion into a school for children. And it's frankly IMPOSSIBLE that when her white doctor boyfriend from Boston arrives, eager for marriage, she would throw him out and decide to stay with "her own kind." A NURSE -- rejecting an opportunity to marry a DOCTOR? The last shot has the camera descend on Crain's glowing face as she rings the bell for Em's School For Girls to start. A heavenly choir may be heard. She's found fulfillment. That happily sentimental shot could have come from John Ford, who sides with tradition even if nobody else does.