Movie Review: Separate Tables (1958)

Genre: Drama  

Director: Delbert Mann  

Starring: Burt Lancaster, Deborah Kerr, Rita Hayworth, David Niven, Wendy Hiller, Rod Taylor, Gladys Cooper, Cathleen Nesbitt  
Running Time: 100 minutes  

Synopsis: The setting is the The Beauregard Hotel in Bournemouth, England. The residents include the gossipy Mrs. Railton-Bell (Gladys Cooper) and her obedient and dowdy daughter Sibyl (Deborah Kerr), who has a crush on the talkative Major Pollock (David Niven). The divorced John Malcolm (Burt Lancaster) drowns his sorrows at the local pub but promises to marry the hotel manager Pat Cooper (Wendy Hiller). Medical student Charles (Rod Taylor) is prevented from concentrating by feisty girlfriend Jean (Audrey Dalton). The guests' established rhythms are first disrupted by the arrival of John's ex-wife Anne (Rita Hayworth), a glamorous model, and then by a shocking scandal.

What Works Well: The adaptation of two stage plays by Terence Rattigan (who co-wrote the screenplay) deploys sharp writing to create a rich texture of turmoil churning beneath staid surroundings. Director Delbert Mann teases out a Britain in post-war transition, the older generation holding on to conservative ideals while the younger members frolic and test new boundaries. David Niven (as Pollock encounters the limits of deceit) and Deborah Kerr (as Sybil finally cracks her shell) shine brightest in a stellar cast that allows mannerisms, etiquette, and social norms to collide with secrets, scandals, emotional releases, and new beginnings.

What Does Not Work As Well: The production is strictly stage-bound, and unsurprisingly a few scenes slip into theatrical melodrama. While the emotional untidyness is welcome, a few character decisions in the final act demonstrate genuinely suspect judgement.

Key Quote:

John Malcolm: You know something, Ann? No one I know of lies with such sincerity.

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Movie Review: Dream Wife (1953)

Genre: Romantic Comedy  

Director: Sidney Sheldon  

Starring: Cary Grant, Deborah Kerr, Walter Pidgeon, Betta St. John  

Running Time: 100 minutes  

Synopsis: While on a trip to the oil-rich country of Bukistan, American businessman Clemson Reade (Cary Grant) is offered a marriage to the ruler's daughter Princess Tarji (Betta St. John), who has all the attributes of a perfect traditional wife. Back in the United States, Clemson breaks off his engagement with his workaholic fiancée Effie (Deborah Kerr), a State Department official finalizing a critical oil deal with Bukistan. Tarji accepts Clemson's marriage proposal and travels to the US, with Effie is assigned to chaperone the couple.

What Works Well: Some chuckles are found in the sharp contrasts between Clemson's idealistic vision of a dream wife dedicated to her man's every need and Effie's no-nonsense, all-business, always-on-the-phone modern woman.

What Does Not Work As Well: The tin-eared plot stumbles to develop the simple be-careful-what-you-wish-for battle-of-the-sexes premise, and sacrifices all common sense and cultural continuity in search of cheap laughs. From the State Department micromanaging a courtship to Tarji's quick acclimatization, the comedy disintegrates into silliness. The foundational cracks include the supposedly suave and sophisticated Clemson being dumb enough to propose marriage across oceans to a woman he barely knows, who can't speak his language, and who comes from a culture he does not understand. Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr drift through the dross with noted disinterest.

Key Quote:

Clemson (arguing with Effie): I want a full-time wife and you want a part-time husband, it's as simple as that.



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Movie Review: Black Narcissus (1947)

Genre: Drama  

Directors: Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger  

Starring: Deborah Kerr, David Farrar, Sabu, Flora Robson, Jean Simmons, Kathleen Byron  

Running Time: 100 minutes  

Synopsis: Calcutta-based nuns are invited by a governing General to establish a school and hospital at a remote and dilapidated palace in the Himalayan mountains. Although not ready for leadership, Sister Clodagh (Deborah Kerr) is selected to head the mission. Once at the palace, the nuns struggle against howling winds and a foreign culture while interacting with locals including the Young General (Sabu) and native girl Kanchi (Jean Simmons). The rugged presence of the General's agent Mr. Dean (David Farrar) unleashes lust within the order, unhinging the erratic Sister Ruth (Kathleen Byron). 

What Works Well: A seemingly straightforward story of religious colonialists on a mission to do good takes a dark turn, as directors Powell and Pressburger are most interested in the seeds of failure lurking within the artificialities of cultural conquest. The nuns are misfits within walls depicting the palace's harem origins, while the locals are more dutiful than appreciative by lining up for education and medicine because they are paid to do so. Under the weight of an unwelcoming physical and emotional environment, the presence of a frequently bare-chested man unlocks havoc. Vivid colours and the incessant sound of wind augment the creeping mental disintegration.

What Does Not Work As Well: The first half is slow and deliberate, with only hints of what is to come. The ambitious introduction of multiple characters is hampered by a modest running time, resulting in some truncated or altogether abandoned resolutions. 

Conclusion: Saviors in need of salvation.



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Movie Review: Quo Vadis (1951)

Genre: Historical Epic

Director: Mervyn LeRoy

Starring: Robert Taylor, Deborah Kerr, Peter Ustinov, Leo Genn

Running Time: 171 minutes

Synopsis: In Rome circa 62 AD, victorious military commander Marcus Vinicius (Robert Taylor) returns from a successful campaign to find Emperor Nero (Peter Ustinov) increasingly unstable. Marcus falls in love with the initially reluctant hostage Lygia (Deborah Kerr), and she introduces him to Christian teachings being spread by disciples Paul (Abraham Sofaer) and Peter (Finlay Currie). Marcus' Uncle Petronius (Leo Genn) is within Nero's inner circle, but the Emperor's second wife Poppaea (Patricia Laffan) also exerts influence. When Nero burns Rome for artistic inspiration and then blames the Christians, Marcus and Lygia are caught in the violent consequences.

What Works Well: Massive crowd scenes, lavish sets and costumes, an ambitious scope encompassing Christianity's early days, strong-willed characters, an ardent romance, and a mammoth running time combine to create a grand spectacle. Director Mervyn LeRoy demonstrates agility and control over all the narrative threads and achieves some legendary highlights: the burning of Rome features impressive destruction and large-scale panic, while the scenes of Christians being fed to the lions and burned at the cross are potent and painful. Towering over all the dramatic sprawl is Peter Ustinov's performance as a ridiculous, pathetic, and unforgettable Nero.

What Does Not Work As Well: The opening hour is slow, some of the speechifying is self-consciously solemn, and Robert Taylor only rarely finds the necessary tones.

Conclusion: A fine feast of Hollywoodized history. 



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Movie Review: The King And I (1956)

A musical drama and romance, The King And I enjoys a larger-than-life Yul Brynner performance and a couple of good musical numbers, but otherwise sags under the weight of a turgid production.

It's the 1860s, and British teacher Anna Leonowens (Deborah Kerr) and her young son arrive in Siam. She has accepted the position of educator to the children of King Mongkut (Yul Brynner), but is disappointed to learn from Prime Minister Kralahome (Martin Benson) that the King has reneged on a promise to provide her with a private house outside the castle.

Anna finds the King a stern but intriguing man, the arrogant father of numerous children but keenly interested in expanding his knowledge of science and international politics. She establishes a good rapport with her students and also meets Tuptim (Rita Moreno), the Burmese slave wife of the King who is still secretly in love with her beau Lun Tha (Carlos Rivas). Anna gradually establishes herself as a capable advisor to the King, but their relationship remains complex.

Based on the 1951 Broadway musical which in turn was an adaptation of the 1944 book Anna and the King of Siam by Margaret Landon, The King And I features the music of Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II and Yul Brynner's career defining performance. Recreating the role he made his own on the stage, Brynner dominates the screen with a restless, authoritative fists-on-hips display of power.

While Kerr (with her singing dubbed by Marni Nixon) adequately grounds Anna in predictable British mannerisms, most of the rest of the film does not live up to Brynner's energy level. Getting To Know You and Shall We Dance? are superlative set-pieces, but the rest of the musical numbers are eminently forgettable. And for a film drawn out to 133 minutes, the supporting characters are close to nonexistent. Anna's son Louis appears at the start and end and otherwise disappears entirely, while Prime Minister Kralahome is equally underutilized. The lingering romance between Tuptim and Lun Tha is reduced to the simplest of fallow sketches.

The King And I features a bewildering play-within-a-play, an artistically staged eastern version of Uncle Tom's Cabin, converted by Tuptim into a condemnation of the King's attachment to wife enslavement. The sequence is both enchanting and distracting, a misfit in the overall narrative arc but nevertheless captivating in its simplistic beauty.

Director Walter Lang confines the action to a few studio-created sets representing various mammoth rooms within the King's castle. Captured in CinemaScope, the set design is impressive and colourful, but the film never threatens to escape its stage origins. Meanwhile the core story suffers from a tired west-is-best mentality, and is further hindered by a hideous make-up job to unconvincingly transform white and Hispanic cast members into Asians.

The King And I enshrines Brynner's forceful screen persona, but is an otherwise confounding royal encounter.

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Movie Review: The Night Of The Iguana (1964)

A drama about life's dead-ends, The Night Of The Iguana aims for profound but lands on the wrong side of laborious.

Reverend Lawrence Shannon (Richard Burton) suffers an emotional meltdown and is locked out of his own church. He re-emerges as a cut-rate tour guide in Mexico, escorting a group of women unfortunate enough to find themselves on his cheap bus. He clashes with the prim Judith Fellowes (Grayson Hall), the stressed chaperon for the underaged but oversexed Charlotte (Sue Lyon), who in turn is intent on seducing Shannon and re-triggering the cause of his downfall.

With Judith starting to make long distance phone calls to probe into Shannon's background, he leads the group to the Puerto Vallarta hilltop villa hotel operated by his earthy friend Maxine Faulk (Ava Gardner). They are soon joined by penniless sketch artist Hannah Jelkes (Deborah Kerr), who is traveling with her delipidating grandfather Nonno (Cyril Delevanti), a presumed poet. Shannon, Maxine and Hannah engage in discussions about life and love, while Charlotte and Judith continue to pursue their own agendas.

An adaptation of the 1961 Tennessee Williams play, The Night Of The Iguana explores the downfall and potential salvation paths of one man as he tangles with the consequences of succumbing to temptation, argues against himself, and surrenders to the charms of a young women and the more potent influence of the bottle. The film placed Puerto Vallarta on the map, and the congregation of Hollywood superstars and their entourages at the remote Mexico location, with Elizabeth Taylor joining her lover Richard Burton on-set (they were both married to others), has entered Hollywood folklore. The movie itself, however, is a largely insufferable excuse to wallow in self-imposed misery, despite dripping with displays and discussions of sexuality.

Shannon's inability to control his impulses represents a short-cut to ignominy, and four unmarried women offer the disgraced Reverend opportunities for either further debasement or redemption. Judith looks down upon him as filth as she desperately tries to protect Charlotte's reputation in a case of apportioning all blame in completely the wrong direction. Maxine is pragmatically engaged in a hedonistic lifestyle and enjoying the on-demand company of two perpetually maracas-shaking virile and much younger locals. She understands Shannon's weakness in front of the flesh all too well.

Hannah is touring the world riding the generosity of others, although she offers her amateur artistry and her grandfather's tottering talent in return. She connects with Shannon as another soul peddling culture to cover up abject failure. And finally Charlotte has embarked on an unconstrained expedition of sexual discovery, the presence of her chaperon a minor and inconsequential inconvenience.

Despite the potential for intrigue residing within the characters, director John Huston gets bogged down in static, long, and mind-numbingly talkative scenes. His script is unable to expand the material into a meaningful cinematic format and particularly in the second half settles for dialogue that would sound hopelessly artificial even on stage. The cast members don't help much, Burton (resigned), Gardner (jaunty) and Kerr (perceptive) appearing to be in different movies but all of them marginally overacting just the same.

An iguana spends a long time on a leash as Reverend Shannon is also roped to protect himself from his own worst tendencies. For both man and lizard, The Night Of The Iguana is tightly tied to the deep malaise of failure.

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Movie Review: King Solomon's Mines (1950)

An on-location treasure hunt adventure, King Solomon's Mines offers plenty of exotic safari-style thrills but a rather scarce plot.

Allan Quatermain (Stewart Granger) is a big-game hunters' guide in deepest Africa, growing disillusioned with his life. He is offered a large sum of money by the brother and sister team of John Goode (Richard Carlson) and Elizabeth Curtis (Deborah Kerr) to guide them into unexplored and dangerous territory in search of Elizabeth's missing husband, who disappeared while searching for the mythical treasure of King Solomon.

The journey is arduous, and features many encounters with wild animals, difficult terrain and hostile tribes. But Allan does pick up clues of the missing man's progress and the party pushes on. They meet a fugitive calling himself Smith (Jugo Haas) hiding in a tribal village, and are joined by the mysterious and exceptionally tall local man Umbopa on a mission of his own.

The second of numerous screen adaptations of Sir H. Rider Haggard's 1885 novel, the 1950 version of King Solomon's Mines is perhaps the best known. MGM spared no expense, with the story unfolding in colourful settings, against wondrous vistas, and in various exotic African locations. Co-directed by Compton Bennett and Andrew Marton, the film is a sturdy old-fashioned adventure story, enjoyable for the numerous encounters with wild animals but otherwise stretched for content.

In terms of human drama the opening 30 minutes are the most fulfilling. Quatermain is losing his zest for hunting, his sense of living on borrowed time growing thanks to the latest casualty on his team, his enthusiasm waning in inverse proportion to his growing reputation. Elizabeth and John work hard to convince him to lead their ill-conceived search, and finally it's a combination of a ridiculous financial offer and Allan's curiosity about Elizabeth's real motives that engage his motivation.

Once the group move into unexplored territory the humans are sidelined and the animals take over, large and small, individually and in groups, on land and in rivers. King Solomon's Mines settles down to a series of sequential encounters with lions, zebras, giraffes, hippos, elephants, crocodiles, tarantulas, leopards and a massive stampeding herd, to name just a few. It's a dream for lovers of nature and wild animals, but the storyline slows to a crawl, barely afforded breathing room amongst all the hooves, claws and paws.

In between scenes featuring the animal kingdom, the tension between Allan and Elizabeth slowly turns to admiration, in a predictable but chemistry-light romantic subplot. The drama comes back to life late in the film, but the main characters become observers to a stale and poorly defined tribal civil war.

King Solomon's Mines conveys the sweaty beauty of Africa, but fades into a safari trip postcard with a bit of plot on the margins of the pretty pictures.

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Movie Review: Thunder In The East (1952)

A war drama and romance set in India, Thunder In The East aims for a Casablanca vibe but settles for methodically mixing the ingredients without any of the magic spices.

It's 1947, and India has just won independence from the British. Jaded American arms trader Steve Gibbs (Alan Ladd) lands his plane loaded with machine guns and ammunition in remote Ghandahar province, intending to sell the weapons to the local Maharaja. A local rebel group under the leadership of the elusive Newah Khan is threatening to seize power, but Prime Minister Singh (Charles Boyer) believes in Gandhi-like peaceful negotiations and blocks Gibbs' sale, instead impounding and storing the weapons.

The stymied Gibbs mingles with a group of foreigners caught up in the violence, and starts to fall in love with blind British woman Joan Willoughby (Deborah Kerr), the granddaughter of local priest Dr. Willoughby (Cecil Kellaway). Seductive French woman Lizette Damon (Corinne Calvet) throws herself at Gibbs to try and win a seat on his outbound plane. But with Khan's men making rapid progress and Singh refusing to authorize the use of heavy weaponry in defence of the government, options to evacuate the city start to diminish, and Gibbs reveals his true colours.

Alan Ladd tries his best to channel his inner Humphrey Bogart, the character of Steve Gibbs intermittently aligning with Bogart's emotionally independent mercenary persona. But the Thunder In The East script, based on the novel The Rage of the Vulture by Alan Moorehead, patently lacks the bright spark and sharp wit needed to ignite the drama and romance around its cynical anti-hero. The film settles into average territory and oscillates between an awkward love-hate relationship between Gibbs and Joan as the romantic anchor, while Singh's internal conflict, his abhorrence of violence confronting increasingly desperate surroundings, represents the dramatic counterweight.

In support of Ladd, Deborah Kerr flirts with abject boredom as the too-pure Joan who may have enough angelic dust to save Gibbs' soul, but certainly doesn't offer anything else of interest. Charles Boyer just about overcomes the bizarre spectacle of a French actor playing an Indian Provincial Prime Minister.

Director Charles Vidor does a decent job of creating an exotic India location out of the Paramount Studios sound stages, although some of the backdrops are painfully clear paintings and rolling footage. Vidor conjures up a modest sense of overlapping sweaty crises and subplots, with relatively minor characters like Lizette, the retired General Harrison (John Williams) and Dr. Willoughby adding welcome depth in several sequences. The action-oriented scenes of siege, shoot-outs and explosions are mostly held in reserve until late in the proceedings, and then handled proficiently.

With the situation desperate, Thunder In The East finds a surprisingly potent emotional crescendo, but then lands a bewilderingly abrupt ending. Once the bullets start to fly with steely intent, there is apparently not much more to say.



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Movie Review: The Sundowners (1960)

An amiable adventure story set in rural Australia, The Sundowners zooms in on a family grappling with simple but important choices, and provides a satisfying tale of life in the outback.

It's the early 1920s in Australia's back country. Irish immigrant Paddy Carmody (Robert Mitchum) is a sheep drover and shearer, and enjoys his nomadic lifestyle, always on the move, living in a tent, and generally penniless. But his wife of 16 years Ida (Deborah Kerr) and their teenage son Sean (Michael Anderson Jr.) are starting to get tired of the continuous traveling and yearn to settle down, especially once they spot a quaint riverfront farm for sale.

The Carmodys meet resourceful Englishman Rupert Venneker (Peter Ustinov) and he joins them for a large sheep drive that is almost derailed by a wildfire. Ida finally convinces Paddy to accept a steady job for a few weeks at a shearing camp, where she also takes on responsibilities as the camp's cook. The family makes new friends and Ida does her best to save every penny towards a farmhouse down payment, but Paddy enjoys his drinking and gambling, and convincing him to settle down will not be easy.

An adaptation of the Jon Cleary book directed by Fred Zinnemann, The Sundowners is old-fashioned in the best possible way. Featuring no heroes, villains or contrived drama, this is a jovial movie that goes searching for life's small but essential building blocks. The film may lack punch and any memorably epic moments. But with a rich visual style breathing deeply from the Australian environment (Zinnemann insisted that filming take place on-location), The Sundowners builds slowly and effectively, and happily succeeds in making regular folks, with all their flaws, matter deeply as the champions of their own story.

The Carmody family dynamic features plenty of love, respect and joint effort, but also a steady current of tension, conflict and unease as the family reaches a crossroads. The film works as a metaphor for an evolving society, where setting roots is important to build a community and ultimately a nation, but goes against the spirit of the men who tamed the land.

The Sundowners presents both sides of the debate: Paddy is sure that worrying about drought, flooding, crops and fires at a farmhouse is not worth the trouble; he effectively feels that he owns all of Australia, rather than a small patch. Ida is tired of sleeping in a tent. She pragmatically senses the wear and tear of the passing years, and wants a kitchen and house she can call her own. She is also aware that Sean's ambitions may exceed his father's, touchy terrain that Paddy avoids at all costs, and that their son needs a place to call home and help secure an education.

The highlights are derived from routine milestones that turn into major events in any family's chronicle. The wildfire not only threatens the sheep drive but momentarily separates Paddy from Ida, driving home what they mean to each other. Ida is unexpectedly called upon to help deliver a newborn, while all the men are conveniently out getting drunk. Paddy represents his work crew in a shearing contest that does not go as planned.

Each event is another ring in the tree of the marriage between Ida and Paddy, both testing their patience with each other and strengthening their mutual dependency. And as their adventures reach a conclusion, young Sean is called upon to ride a racing horse called Sundowner, and in the unlikeliest fashion the family's fortunes are inexorably linked to the horse's performance.

Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr effortlessly build on the chemistry they established in Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison. Their relationship as the Carmodys has an easy, authentic vibe to it, built on years of joint exploits and still thriving on reservoirs of love and physical lust. Kerr gives Ida plenty of verve and independence without emotionally abandoning Paddy, while Mitchum finds the right tone as a man stuck in the danger zone between masculine instincts to irresponsibly move on, and more evolved imperatives to at least consider doing right by his family.

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Movie Review: The Grass Is Greener (1960)

A miserable adaptation of a dull play, The Grass Is Greener is a hopelessly dated mostly unfunny romantic comedy set in an English estate.

Victor, Earl of Rhyall (Cary Grant) and his wife Hilary (Deborah Kerr) have had to open their English countryside estate to tourist traffic in an attempt to make ends meet. Their only other source of income is a modest mushroom farming operation. One day American oilman millionaire Charles Delacro (Robert Mitchum), part of a tour group, barges in on Hilary in the private section of the house, and after five minutes of banter they fall in love.

Hilary contrives a trip to London and spends a few days with Charles, enjoying a whirlwind affair. But Victor will not give up on his wife without a fight, and with the help of his former girlfriend and sharp-tongued society girl Hattie Durant (Jean Simmons) concocts a plan to invite Charles to the estate to defend the honour of his marriage.

It's difficult to imagine that The Grass Is Greener was ever current or funny, either on stage or on film circa 1960. As directed by Stanley Donen, this is a stilted, witless, stage-bound and endlessly talky comedy of British manners that would have appeared old in the 1940s. The four stars are utterly wasted, the script not finding any genuine passion or plausible pretexts to create neither appealing drama nor dreamy romance.

Grant, Kerr and Mitchum fire off their lines with little conviction while Simmons parades around in a succession of Dior outfits and provides some spark, but too little and too late. At least the set design, and most of the film is in one room, is understandably lavish and colourful, given the setting.

The script by Hugh Williams and Margaret Vyner (who wrote the play) tries to make some intelligent commentary about the institution of marriage, and throws in some remarks about the differences between British and American sensibilities. Very little of it works or rings true, as the endless scenes drag on in a remarkable display of more is less, not helped at all by lazy and static directing from Donen.

The Grass Is Greener just turns into a sickly brown all over.

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Movie Review: Tea And Sympathy (1956)

A fervent drama about the price of not conforming to society's suffocating norms, Tea And Sympathy is a potent study of bullying as ingrained into the institutional psyche.

At an upper-class all-boys high school, 18 year old Tom Lee (John Kerr) lives in a rooming house managed by Bill Reynolds (Leif Erickson) and his wife Laura (Deborah Kerr). Tom is different than the other boys. Instead of partaking in typical activities like wrestling and mountain climbing, he prefers reading, listening to quiet music, and the company of older women. His gait is feminine, he actually enjoys sewing, and he refuses to get a buzz cut like all the other boys. As a result of not fitting in, Tom is labelled "sister boy", and subjected to merciless bullying.

Tom enjoys spending time with Laura, and she tries to help him by encouraging his individuality and shielding him from the bullying. She also stands up to Bill when he remains insensitive to Tom's plight. Tom's father Herb (Edward Andrews) makes an appearance but proves to be part of the problem. Despite Laura's best efforts Tom falls deeper into the clutches of an uncaring school environment that viciously mocks his uniqueness, while Laura realizes her marriage to Bill is also on extremely rocky ground.

To accommodate the cinematic restrictions of the times, the film version of Tea And Sympathy broadens Tom's predicament from being gay to being a misfit. Although Robert Anderson's script (adapting his own play) drops clear hints that Tom's effeminate tendencies are at the root cause of the bullying he has to endure, the film is equally clear that he likes the opposite sex, but is attracted to unattainable and mature women like Laura. Tom's broken home, lack of traditional parenting, and disconnected father are presented as causes for his unconventional behaviour.

Despite the reorientation, Tea And Sympathy is a devastatingly effective study of society's inability to accommodate those who differ from majority norms. Over the 122 minutes of running time, and with the film only occasionally breaking out of the confines of its stage origins, director Vincente Minnelli finds the creeping rot at the core of a seemingly idyllic academic setting. Tom's classmates, father and Mr. Reynolds are active participants in piling on the agony, knowingly or not, and eventually even his supportive roommate Al (Darryl Hickman) is pressured into shunning Tom. The film offers no reprieve, as Tom's life moves from one episode of emotional torture to the next, and all his attempts to either conform to the norms or challenge them end in failure.

Laura offers the only rock to hold onto in the swirling river of Tom's agony. Deborah Kerr, at her peak and in the same year as The King And I, delivers a remarkable performance full of courage and complex self-doubt, as she demonstrates the meaning of caring. As Laura faces her own demons of marital misery, she finds more than one reason to reach out to Tom and offer comfort, while almost openly admitting that her motives are not altogether unselfish.

John Kerr (no relation to Deborah) is also excellent in reprising his stage role and bringing Tom to life, all twisted discomfort as he tries to fit in. Leif Erickson convincingly represents the traditional 1950s husband, more comfortable wrestling with teenagers on the beach than talking with his wife.

With every door seemingly slamming in his face, Tom reaches the depths of despair, and Tea And Sympathy follows him all the way as he tries to force his way through the one remaining logical escape hatch. But Laura gets one more chance to exert her influence, and she gets to deliver the immortal line "Years from now, when you talk about this, and you will, be kind". Tom will forever struggle to fit in, but now with more than just tea and sympathy to sustain his full transition into adulthood.

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The Movies Of Deborah Kerr

All movies starring Deborah Kerr and reviewed on the Ace Black Movie Blog are linked below:

Black Narcissus (1947)

The Hucksters (1947)

King Solomon's Mines (1950)

Quo Vadis (1951)

Thunder In The East (1952)

Julius Caesar (1953)

Dream Wife (1953)

From Here To Eternity (1953)

The King And I (1956)

Tea And Sympathy (1956)

Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957)

An Affair To Remember (1957)

Separate Tables (1958)

The Sundowners (1960)

The Grass Is Greener (1960)

The Night Of The Iguana (1964)

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Movie Review: Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957)

A two-character World War Two drama, Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison deftly explores themes of survival, companionship and the potential for impossible love when two strangers find their fate tied together.

It's 1944 in the South Pacific, and after a mission gone bad U.S. Marine Corporal Allison (Robert Mitchum) drifts alone in a raft, washing up at a seemingly abandoned fishing village on a remote island. He finds Sister Angela (Deborah Kerr) all alone, and she explains that the villagers had fled or were forcibly recruited to the Japanese army, while the clergyman who ran the church has recently died.

Allison and Angela explore the island and consider building a raft to sail towards civilization. But these plans are disrupted by a bombing raid followed by the arrival of Japanese troops to set up a weather station. The nun and the Marine have to confine themselves to a cave to avoid getting captured. When food begins to run short, Allison has to risk a raid into the Japanese camp to find supplies. With the passing days, Allison develops feelings towards Angela, and they discuss her vows and their surprisingly similar devotion to two separate causes. But the war rages on, and they have to face increasing danger from larger concentrations of troops landing on their little island.

Sharing some basic plot elements with The African Queen (1951), director John Huston goes back to the theme of two fundamentally incompatible characters thrust together under extreme stress. The hostile jungle and serpentine river environments are replaced by a more docile South Pacific island, but Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison enjoys more sharply defined characters and career choices to play with.

The conflicts and commonalities between a nun and a Marine make up the heart of the film, and Huston, who co-wrote the script with John Lee Mahin based on the Charles Shaw novel, elegantly probes the cultures that produced Sister Angela and Corporal Allison. Dedication to duty, a strict code of conduct, and unwavering belief in the cause are common to both, and apart from one drunken slip by Allison, the two survive the ordeal thanks to a strict adherence to the principles of their chosen lives.

Huston keeps the movie well balanced between relationship development and the dangers posed by the war. As Angela and Allison negotiate their strange life together, their habitat is constantly evolving. Isolation is followed by bombing, the establishment of a Japanese weather station, a distant naval battle, more isolation, then occupation by a full contingent of Japanese soldiers. The cave becomes a sanctuary, forcing Angela and Allison to become physically closer and challenging their boundaries.

Mitchum and Kerr are both excellent. Effectively in every scene, this is one of Mitchum's more engaging performances, as he displays a range of honest emotions not often required in many of his other roles. Kerr is more secretive as Sister Angela, hidden from head to toe in her habit. Kerr allows Angela to be a sweet but complex puzzle for Allison to assemble, from her unexpected presence on an isolated island to her decision to become a nun.

The film takes no easy shortcuts, and finds a gracious ending that leaves room for open questions. Of course, the answer to what happens next is Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison.

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Movie Review: Julius Caesar (1953)

A sincere adaptation of the Shakespeare play, Julius Caesar adheres to stage rules but still finds the passion at the heart of the story of intrigue and betrayal among Rome's elite.

After defeating Rome's enemies, Julius Caesar (Louis Calhern) is at the height of his power, and the expectation is that the Senate will offer him the position of Emperor for life. Afraid that Caesar is becoming too ambitious and placing his personal glory ahead that of Rome, a group of noblemen plot an assassination. Cassius (John Gielgud) is the ring leader, and he invites the well respected Brutus (James Mason) to join the conspiracy, appealing to Brutus' love of Rome's ideal model of governance.

After agonizing over the decision, Brutus joins the band of assassins, and Caesar is stabbed to death on the Ides of March. At the insistence of Brutus, and despite Cassius' unease, the killers spare the life of Caesar's loyal companion, the athletic Mark Antony (Marlon Brando). Antony pretends to be resigned to the will of the conspirators, but he uses his charisma and spectacular skills in oration to turn the public against the assassination, triggering a brutal battle for power.

If Shakespeare needs to be filmed, it's likely best to do it this way: a stellar cast, lavish sets, and top production values. This takes away, somewhat, from lingering questions as to why the ancient Romans may choose to speak in 16th Century English. The trouble with Julius Caesar, as with any faithful movie adaptation of classic theatre, is the confines of dialogue written to dominate, where characters don't so much converse as trade volleys of soliloquies. This is forgivable in the cozy setting of the stage, but comes across as exceedingly stiff on the modern and expansive format of film.

Julius Caesar overcomes these challenges as best at it could, thanks to Brando, Mason and Gielgud all delivering committed performances. Mason finds all of Brutus' intellectual self-doubt and higher purpose in defending Rome's reputation even at the cost of the ultimate betrayal. Gielgud is pure conspiratorial evil, his brooding Cassius the head of the plot but smart enough to acknowledge the importance of bringing Brutus into the fold. And Brando enjoys his one mammoth scene, roaring with rage to shake Romans out of their slumber and spark the civil war to oust the conspirators.

Joseph L. Mankiewicz directs with appropriate reverence to the source material, packing the play into a tidy 121 minutes, and finding impressive-looking sets to stage the action. However, some of the dialogue is delivered breathlessly quickly, which does not help to convince that the characters are actually thinking before reciting their prose.

Almost totally wasted are Deborah Kerr as Brutus' wife Portia, and Greer Garson as Caesar's wife Calpurnia. MGM likely wanted a star in every key role, but Kerr and Garson each get exactly one relevant scene, and then they both comprehensively disappear from the action, leaving the men behind to battle over the soul of Rome.

Which is maybe just as well, as women are less likely to ever justify or condone the sordid backstabbing at the heart of the story. Riding the quality of the epic source material all the way to a bloody conclusion filled with perforated peers, Julius Caesar is a potent parable of power and politics.

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