None but the Lonely Heart (1944)
An odd but actually really interesting American movie set in London (and made on a huge soundstage built for the filming in California). At first you might twitch at Cary Grant's slightly affected accent—except that he grew up in working class London, though with a different neighborhood accent than this. His mother, played by Ethel Barrymore, doesn't even pretend at an accent, which is fine. She's tough as nails and she fights for her son's dignity with maternal hardness. "A breath of homeless wind," she calls him.
This makes sense in context—the movie is from the big turning point and gruesome zone of World War II. It seems the Germans are losing ground at last, and Britain, a short Channel away from enemy soldiers, is desperate to keep morale up. A final scene has some badly done shadows of planes falling on a third major character, as he and Grant look up at the sky.
There are a hundred great moments here, many of them in the clever, homey script (which is filled with old school aphorisms like, "They milk the cow that stands still"). And then there's the moment when Grant appears at the bottom of the stairs in a new striped suit. What a sight!
Underneath all this is a tender, sad, triumphant story amidst the ruins of this mother and son family. You can read it two ways. The first is simple: a gadabout young man hasn't paid much attention to his aging, widowed mother and the two have to find ways of getting to know each other again. Both of the leads are terrific actors, and though they might seem mismatched in style, they are decent enough to pull of this seesaw of emotions.
The other story is a social message about young men with skills coming to the aid of those who need them. In the bigger picture this means Great Britain in its fight against the Nazis. As the personal ups and downs fly around us while we watch (there is tumult of romantic and criminal activity), the bigger truth is developing—Grant's troubled character has to find some inner stability to make him a useful, happy human being. It's not about being a homeless wind after all.
Overall there is a stage-like stiffness to part of the film (Odets was a playwright above all), but it's so moving at times, and so well written at others, I recommend it anyway. A classic? No. But it helps fill in some gaps in Grant's career (he just finished filming "Arsenic and Old Lace") and it does satisfy some dramatic impulse in me.
An example of a great tidbit? Midway, Grant is making advances on the leading lady, and she rebuffs him flat. "Rolled a nice cold pickle jar down my back, you did," he says. A little later she says, "There's about twenty good kisses left in me but you'll never get one." Where the heck does this kind of great, old-fashioned, writing come from? The writer of the movie, of course, Clifford Odets, who also is directing. This is one of two movies the great writer directed. And this, in the end, is why to see it. He's not a terrific director, but he knows how to respect a good writer when it's himself. And there is so much that works here amidst the slightly awkward direction it's worth seeing.
For those who love old movies, that is. And for anyone trying to get a grip on the effect of WWII on England, and London, and regular folk.
An odd but actually really interesting American movie set in London (and made on a huge soundstage built for the filming in California). At first you might twitch at Cary Grant's slightly affected accent—except that he grew up in working class London, though with a different neighborhood accent than this. His mother, played by Ethel Barrymore, doesn't even pretend at an accent, which is fine. She's tough as nails and she fights for her son's dignity with maternal hardness. "A breath of homeless wind," she calls him.
This makes sense in context—the movie is from the big turning point and gruesome zone of World War II. It seems the Germans are losing ground at last, and Britain, a short Channel away from enemy soldiers, is desperate to keep morale up. A final scene has some badly done shadows of planes falling on a third major character, as he and Grant look up at the sky.
There are a hundred great moments here, many of them in the clever, homey script (which is filled with old school aphorisms like, "They milk the cow that stands still"). And then there's the moment when Grant appears at the bottom of the stairs in a new striped suit. What a sight!
Underneath all this is a tender, sad, triumphant story amidst the ruins of this mother and son family. You can read it two ways. The first is simple: a gadabout young man hasn't paid much attention to his aging, widowed mother and the two have to find ways of getting to know each other again. Both of the leads are terrific actors, and though they might seem mismatched in style, they are decent enough to pull of this seesaw of emotions.
The other story is a social message about young men with skills coming to the aid of those who need them. In the bigger picture this means Great Britain in its fight against the Nazis. As the personal ups and downs fly around us while we watch (there is tumult of romantic and criminal activity), the bigger truth is developing—Grant's troubled character has to find some inner stability to make him a useful, happy human being. It's not about being a homeless wind after all.
Overall there is a stage-like stiffness to part of the film (Odets was a playwright above all), but it's so moving at times, and so well written at others, I recommend it anyway. A classic? No. But it helps fill in some gaps in Grant's career (he just finished filming "Arsenic and Old Lace") and it does satisfy some dramatic impulse in me.
An example of a great tidbit? Midway, Grant is making advances on the leading lady, and she rebuffs him flat. "Rolled a nice cold pickle jar down my back, you did," he says. A little later she says, "There's about twenty good kisses left in me but you'll never get one." Where the heck does this kind of great, old-fashioned, writing come from? The writer of the movie, of course, Clifford Odets, who also is directing. This is one of two movies the great writer directed. And this, in the end, is why to see it. He's not a terrific director, but he knows how to respect a good writer when it's himself. And there is so much that works here amidst the slightly awkward direction it's worth seeing.
For those who love old movies, that is. And for anyone trying to get a grip on the effect of WWII on England, and London, and regular folk.