The first time we meet Arthur Kennedy as Branwell Bronte, brother of THE Brontes, he's carousing on the grass with De Havilland as Charlotte, the more headstrong of the sisters. He tosses her into the pond while they both laugh. Ida Lupino, as Emily, the sober and sensitive one, chides them. Branwell snaps back, "I am sickened by your idealistic prattle." Anne, the third sister, looks on with a smile.
That first scene tells us a lot. First of all, everyone is too close, too happy. Little do they know that tragedy lies just around the corner, although the screenwriters know it all too well. Second, this character Branwell is headed for trouble. I figured he was dead meat, correctly, as it turned out. Third, Charlotte is going to have to go through some troublesome times that will drain her of that excess élan before she finds happiness. Fourth, sullen Emily will finally find some lonely soul who has adored her from afar -- perhaps a village cobbler -- and settle quietly down into a life of pastoral torpor. Fifth, no matter what her accomplishments, Anne won't be seen much in the movie.
I was wrong on Number Four. Paul Henreid comes to the village as a gentle vicar, not a cobbler. Emily falls for him hard. It's obvious to Henreid but Emily's love remains unspoken and unrequited. Charlotte, the gay little thing, develops an ambivalent attraction to him as well, but she's so wrapped up in herself that she doesn't notice Emily sulking in the background.
By the way, the screenwriters are so clumsy that few viewers will discern any real attraction between Charlotte and Henreid, so that when they fall into each other's arms at the end, it comes as a big surprise -- "I love you, Charlotte. I've always loved you." Or maybe my intuition is getting rusty. Women are better at these things than men.
Emily was the one who wrote "Wuthering Heights," a tragic tale, and Charlotte wrote "Jane Eyre," which isn't nearly so sepulchral. I just mention that in case you get them mixed up, as I often do.
As Emily, Ida Lupino is pretty but withdrawn and doesn't seem like she'd be much fun to be married to anyway. She has a recurring dream in which she stands alone on the foggy moor in the moonlight and a dark figure on a horse gallops up to her. In her final such dream, the figure sweeps her up and carries her off.
Olivia De Havilland is bright, wide eyed, and breathless, although she's no longer the frangible kid she'd been ten years earlier in "Captain Blood." She has a delightful laugh and in one scene reveals a charming but modest bosom. With the success of "Jane Eyre," she gets swept up in the London literary life with William ("Vanity Fair") Thackerey and she gets a glimpse of Charles Dickens. Her novel is a runaway success. The book shop windows are piled with copies. If my work had been promoted with such abandon it would have become a best seller too. I'd have made a lot of money and you can be sure I wouldn't be sitting here pounding out movie reviews for nothing. Come to think of it, I don't like her too much.
As the vicar that the two women hunger for, Paul Henreid is a sympathetic character but his looks and gentlemanly demeanor do nothing for me. Arthur Kennedy, I think, is miscast. He's great at certain kinds of roles, whining and indignant, but he's not the son of a vicar on an isolated English moor.
I have no idea how closely the screenplay sticks to historical facts. If the other examples of period Hollywood biographies are any guide, not very close. The musical score by Erich Wolfgang Korngold is subdued and enchanting. It's hard to believe this is the same composer who gave us the bombastic scores for "Captain Blood" and "The Sea Hawk." The special effects get the job done nicely. That dark horse and dark rider emerging from the misty gloom is pretty spooky.
That first scene tells us a lot. First of all, everyone is too close, too happy. Little do they know that tragedy lies just around the corner, although the screenwriters know it all too well. Second, this character Branwell is headed for trouble. I figured he was dead meat, correctly, as it turned out. Third, Charlotte is going to have to go through some troublesome times that will drain her of that excess élan before she finds happiness. Fourth, sullen Emily will finally find some lonely soul who has adored her from afar -- perhaps a village cobbler -- and settle quietly down into a life of pastoral torpor. Fifth, no matter what her accomplishments, Anne won't be seen much in the movie.
I was wrong on Number Four. Paul Henreid comes to the village as a gentle vicar, not a cobbler. Emily falls for him hard. It's obvious to Henreid but Emily's love remains unspoken and unrequited. Charlotte, the gay little thing, develops an ambivalent attraction to him as well, but she's so wrapped up in herself that she doesn't notice Emily sulking in the background.
By the way, the screenwriters are so clumsy that few viewers will discern any real attraction between Charlotte and Henreid, so that when they fall into each other's arms at the end, it comes as a big surprise -- "I love you, Charlotte. I've always loved you." Or maybe my intuition is getting rusty. Women are better at these things than men.
Emily was the one who wrote "Wuthering Heights," a tragic tale, and Charlotte wrote "Jane Eyre," which isn't nearly so sepulchral. I just mention that in case you get them mixed up, as I often do.
As Emily, Ida Lupino is pretty but withdrawn and doesn't seem like she'd be much fun to be married to anyway. She has a recurring dream in which she stands alone on the foggy moor in the moonlight and a dark figure on a horse gallops up to her. In her final such dream, the figure sweeps her up and carries her off.
Olivia De Havilland is bright, wide eyed, and breathless, although she's no longer the frangible kid she'd been ten years earlier in "Captain Blood." She has a delightful laugh and in one scene reveals a charming but modest bosom. With the success of "Jane Eyre," she gets swept up in the London literary life with William ("Vanity Fair") Thackerey and she gets a glimpse of Charles Dickens. Her novel is a runaway success. The book shop windows are piled with copies. If my work had been promoted with such abandon it would have become a best seller too. I'd have made a lot of money and you can be sure I wouldn't be sitting here pounding out movie reviews for nothing. Come to think of it, I don't like her too much.
As the vicar that the two women hunger for, Paul Henreid is a sympathetic character but his looks and gentlemanly demeanor do nothing for me. Arthur Kennedy, I think, is miscast. He's great at certain kinds of roles, whining and indignant, but he's not the son of a vicar on an isolated English moor.
I have no idea how closely the screenplay sticks to historical facts. If the other examples of period Hollywood biographies are any guide, not very close. The musical score by Erich Wolfgang Korngold is subdued and enchanting. It's hard to believe this is the same composer who gave us the bombastic scores for "Captain Blood" and "The Sea Hawk." The special effects get the job done nicely. That dark horse and dark rider emerging from the misty gloom is pretty spooky.