Caged Hearts—A Valentine Series (Part 2)
BETTE DAVIS AYES! or Yet Another Nod to WINTER MEETING
This week, I’d like to take some time to trim a little more lace on my Valentine’s Day homage to the film, Winter Meeting prior to my re-wrapping it in tissue and replacing it in my movie memory hope chest. Hope is after all the character of this film. As I mentioned previously, Ethel Vance’s novel was purchased by Warner Brothers as a vehicle for Bette Davis and was released theatrically by the studio in 1948. It represents something unusually simple, elegant and honest in Ms. Davis’ at times histrionic canon of brilliant work. It’s lovingly realized as a kind of chamber piece directed sensitively by Brentaigne Windhust. The movie has a subdued tonality that’s rarely seen in Warner Brothers films of the 1940s. In its lyrical handling, I’d say that it’s as close as Warner Brothers ever got to producing a visual tone poem.
Winter Meeting tells of a closed heart’s cautious attempt to reopen itself to love during an unexpected winter’s meeting—a blind date arranged by a friend between two strangers, a woman poet and a returning naval war hero. What begins as a dalliance evolves into something much deeper. The romance ends almost as quickly as it began. And the gain won by both the man and woman sets each of them in healing directions that might never had occurred if it wasn’t for their almost accidental coming together. In the part of Susan, Ms. Davis is simultaneously ingenuous and aloof. We are aware of her concrete hold on her feelings almost immediately. As a successful poet, she’s closed her heart for years—burying herself in writing books of poetry—objectifying herself in words and divorcing herself from any human contact that might crack the walls of her staid and apparently sad routine. But, after both she and her veteran friend choose to confess something quite personal to each other, she makes the decision to accept the spiritual gift that he’s left in his wake—a key to the emotional cage she’s locked herself inside of. In the end, the woman is once again alone. But, as we watch her, partially hidden through the frost of her living room window in the film’s beautiful last shot, we hear strength rising in her voice and a willingness to meet and embrace her vulnerability. She’s placing a very difficult telephone call in hopes of healing a self afflicted wound—the lie that she’s lived with for most of her adult life. Max Steiner’s lovely score gently masks our ability to hear all of this conversation. We’re left only to imagine what we hope will be the joy she finds in surrendering to her new found emotional freedom.
Author Ethel Vance, focuses on the strength found by her female characters when confronting and defying deep seated personal issues. Two other film adaptations of her novels starred two very strong women of equal stature to Davis during their Hollywood reigns; Barbara Stanwyck in The Bitter Tears of General Yen, and Norma Shearer in Escape. An interesting note regarding the latter novel. Vance had been publishing under her actual name, Grace Zaring Stone up until 1939 when her novel, Escape was written. Ethel Vance, her new name, was created specifically for the publication of this anti-Nazi novel as at the time of its publication her daughter, Eleanor was living in occupied Europe. Grace Zaring Stone changed her name so as not to put her daughter in peril.
And, just out of curiosity...Are you thinking what I’ve been thinking?
Ethel Vance?
Ethel Mertz? Vivian Vance? Hmmm…
But, I digress…
Remain open hearted, everybody. It’s good to exercise the muscle.
Be well. Stay engaged.
And hope to have you join me again here next time.
