I haven't seen 'Love Affair (1939),' but I have seen 'An Affair to Remember (1957),' and that film undoubtedly owed something to Tay Garnett's 'One Way Passage (1932).' In McCarey's film, a trans-Atlantic liner becomes a metaphor for love: two people fall hopelessly for one another, becoming adrift on a vessel of passion that precludes all former relationships or future life plans. When the ship reaches its destination – New York – reality intrudes on emotion, and love is thrown into turmoil. In 'One Way Passage,' the reality is death itself. Joan (Kay Francis) has been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and will be lucky to survive the journey to America. Dan (William Powell) has been convicted for murder, and in San Quentin awaits his gallows. Neither knows that the other is walking death row, either figuratively or literally, but love intercedes on their behalf: just as a star is brightest before its extinction, so too is love at its most passionate when the lovers' time is limited.
Despite its very brief running time (67 minutes), 'One Way Passage' is one of the great unsung romances. An aura of hope pervades the film. Though the viewer is always aware of the inevitable, I loathe to describe the story as a "doomed romance." Such a label would properly refer to, say, Lean's 'Brief Encounter (1945)' or Ophüls' 'Letter from an Unknown Woman (1948),' in which the prevailing mood is that of tragedy and misspent emotion. In 'One Way Passage,' not an ounce of passion goes to waste, each lover fully aware that their time together is brief. I was also struck by the notion that love doesn't necessarily entail complete openness between lovers. Lying, if done to protect rather than deceive, can be the most heartbreakingly romantic thing of all (I'm reminded of the devoted father in 'A Night to Remember (1958)' who, with admirable composure, assures his family that the Titanic will not sink, despite knowing that his own death is unavoidable). Garnett's casual use of long takes in masterful, giving the story a poetic fluidity without drawing attention to itself.
William Powell was one of the busiest stars of the 1930s, enjoying the security of, not one, but two recurring characters (Philo Vance and Nick Charles, both detectives). 'One Way Passage' was produced by Warner Brothers before he moved to M-G-M in 1934. Even before 'The Thin Man (1934),' however, Powell was one of the classiest stars in Hollywood, here delivering his dialogue with unsurpassed aplomb. Kay Francis was a new face for me, but her eyes simply sparkle with life and emotion, her character torn between the joys of love and the heartbreak of impending death. Of the supporting players, only Frank McHugh – as a drunken pickpocket with a weaselly cackle – destroyed the mood of the film, his alcoholism far less amusing than Nick Charles' subsequent hankering for martinis. While Aline MacMahon and Warren Hymer are strong, 'One Way Passage' truly belongs to Powell and Francis, and to a love than persists long after its participants have moved on to other worlds.
Despite its very brief running time (67 minutes), 'One Way Passage' is one of the great unsung romances. An aura of hope pervades the film. Though the viewer is always aware of the inevitable, I loathe to describe the story as a "doomed romance." Such a label would properly refer to, say, Lean's 'Brief Encounter (1945)' or Ophüls' 'Letter from an Unknown Woman (1948),' in which the prevailing mood is that of tragedy and misspent emotion. In 'One Way Passage,' not an ounce of passion goes to waste, each lover fully aware that their time together is brief. I was also struck by the notion that love doesn't necessarily entail complete openness between lovers. Lying, if done to protect rather than deceive, can be the most heartbreakingly romantic thing of all (I'm reminded of the devoted father in 'A Night to Remember (1958)' who, with admirable composure, assures his family that the Titanic will not sink, despite knowing that his own death is unavoidable). Garnett's casual use of long takes in masterful, giving the story a poetic fluidity without drawing attention to itself.
William Powell was one of the busiest stars of the 1930s, enjoying the security of, not one, but two recurring characters (Philo Vance and Nick Charles, both detectives). 'One Way Passage' was produced by Warner Brothers before he moved to M-G-M in 1934. Even before 'The Thin Man (1934),' however, Powell was one of the classiest stars in Hollywood, here delivering his dialogue with unsurpassed aplomb. Kay Francis was a new face for me, but her eyes simply sparkle with life and emotion, her character torn between the joys of love and the heartbreak of impending death. Of the supporting players, only Frank McHugh – as a drunken pickpocket with a weaselly cackle – destroyed the mood of the film, his alcoholism far less amusing than Nick Charles' subsequent hankering for martinis. While Aline MacMahon and Warren Hymer are strong, 'One Way Passage' truly belongs to Powell and Francis, and to a love than persists long after its participants have moved on to other worlds.