Touches You

Too much of everything

Expected more

One of the worst ways to make a cult movie is to set out to make a cult movie.

Director: EDMUND GOULDING. Screenplay: Edmund Goulding. Suggested by the 1914 stage play Outcast by Hubert Henry Davies. Photography: Ernest Haller. Film editor: Jack Killifer. Music: Max Steiner. Art director: Max Parker. Costumes designed by Orry-Kelly. Wardrobe master: Elmer Ellsworth. Wardrobe mistress: Mary Dery. Hair styles: Mary Donovan. Stills: Bert Six. Music director: Leo F. Forbstein. Grip: Stanley Young. Gaffer: Claude Hutchinson. Continuity girl: Alma Dwight. Property master: William L. Kuehl. Assistant director: Chuck Hansen. Unit manager: Robert Fellows. Sound recording: Dolph Thomas. Associate producer: Robert Lord.Copyright 26 July 1937 by Warner Brothers Pictures, Inc. New York opening at the Strand: 15 September 1937. U.S. release: 18 September 1937. 93 minutes. SYNOPSIS: Although loved by her employer, a successful lawyer, a gangster's widow marries the weakling son of a powerful tycoon who soon has her marriage annulled. COMMENT: A partial remake of "The Girl from 10th Avenue" (1935) with Ian Hunter virtually repeating his role from that film. Davis, however, is no longer the girl, but the woman. And a very glamorous woman at that, though still, of course, supremely self-sacrificing. In fact, it seems to have been Goulding's intention to load his screenplay with every cliché known to women's magazine fiction (including Madame Butterfly). Character, continuity, credibility - all simply go by the board. Not that Bette minds in the least. As long as Haller's camera stays firmly focuses upon her (which it does) and she's indulged in the full "star treatment", she's happy. Ian Hunter presumably didn't mind either. He could now play the part standing on his head. But Henry Fonda was heard to object that his role was a thankless one that would hardly induce picture-goers to cheer in the aisles. His objections were brushed aside. It's Davis's movie. Flatteringly costumed and photographed (often in radiant close-up), Bette has a field day.It's amazing how you can recognize Goulding's style (even if you come late and miss his name on the credits). Not only are close-ups liberally used to hold up the action throughout (always meticulously composed and beautifully lit), but the characters themselves are imbued with a larger-than-life quality (which I must admit some movie fans find attractive), which is further emphasized by somewhat stilted dialogue delivery and slow, mannered movements. Not only does Davis benefit from this style of actor-coddling direction, but also Ian Hunter, Donald Crisp and Dwayne Day. Fonda is obviously putting up a fight. In his earlier scenes, he has reams of dialogue which he reels off at a commendably breakneck pace which must have had Goulding in a fury. No doubt he was pacified by Miss Davis, for the quicker Fonda's scenes were over and done with, the more the camera could linger on her brave fortitude and inward tears. Yes, this is firmly Bette's movie. Aside from an occasional emphasis on the Ian Hunter character, and a bit of boring business with young Dwayne Day, plus a nod or two in the directions of Hugh O'Connell and Donald Crisp, the other players have little to do.Anita Louise's role is ridiculously small. And as for the big line- up of character players, aside from Mary Phillips and Frank Darien, if you blink you'll miss them!

Yes, it's a ridiculous, confusing plot. Yes, the characterizations are clichéd archetypes. The portrayal of her son shows a child yanked around with what we would see today as neglect, or even cruelty. But David fully commits, and elevates the entire enterprise. She is showcased, and provides a subtlety and range of emotion far beyond the script, e.g., she makes her interaction with the child actor believable. Fonda hangs in there, but his character doesn't give him much to work with. And some scenes rise to her level -- especially the conversation with Anita Louise in her wheelchair. We see the characters reacting to one another in an unlikely and awkward plot contrivance, and simultaneously see two skilled actresses working together to make all this believable and even moving. Plus, the wheelchair action is ... remarkable. Davis looks great, beautifully photographed, well-lit, with the famous eyes showcased repeatedly, to great effect. The finale has to be seen to be believed. What the involved viewer expected - and dreaded - is suddenly revealed to have taken place, and the effect is -- hilarious relief. Certainly not a great film, but essential for those who appreciate and admire Davis.

This is a superior and under-rated "woman's picture" that really has all the elements of the classic weeper: star-crossed lovers, twists of fate, and self-sacrifice. It also has a sterling performance from Bette Davis which gives a strong indication of why she would soon be a superstar and regarded as the screen's best actress: Her belief in a character could suffuse it with passion and poignancy and transcend the shallowness of the accompanying story. She's supported by an excellent cast - Henry Fonda (in a basically thankless role), the ever-reliable Donald Crisp (her showdown scene with him oddly foreshadows similar scenes with Gladys Cooper in NOW, VOYAGER), Mary Phillips (in a role that in a later version would obviously have gone to Thelma Ritter), who was, at the time, Mrs. Humphrey Bogart (in the same year's MARKED WOMAN Davis would appear with Mayo Methot, the next Mrs. B., and Ian Hunter. Edmund Goulding, who excelled at this kind of thing, wrote and directed it - he would later direct Davis in two other notable soapers, DARK VICTORY (one of her most celebrated performances, as Judith Traherne), and THE GREAT LIE (for which Mary Astor won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar). It's all served up in the best Warner Bros. tradition, but doesn't seem to be as well-remembered as other such films of the era, such as MAGNIFICENT OBSESSION, STELLA DALLAS, or MY FOOLISH HEART.

Audiences will groan at the character of Mary Donnell. Bette Davis is normally looking out for number one--and she's definitely her good old self in the first half of the movie. The widow of a gangster, Donnell has become a super-competent legal secretary for a respected attorney in a big firm. She fends off unwanted press attention and generally handles herself quite well as a tough single girl in the big city.She becomes the mistress of her married boss at the law firm (although the Hays Office undoubtedly required the removal of any breath of sexual content here, it should be pretty obvious to all what is going on). In the second half of the movie, which focusses on Jack Merrick (Henry Fonda), whom Donnell has always loved, she achieves peaks of self-sacrifice that will send you staggering to the bathroom to throw up.This is the sort of film that gives soap opera a bad name.