"All This and Heaven, Too," is a soap opera, but of the best kind. It tells an adult story in a genuinely moving way. The involved viewer will have cried several times before the final fade-out; the movie earns its tears, and then some.
Its best features include:
Bette Davis' performance. Before this I knew she was a spectacular entertainer; now I know she can act. She is subtle and yet tremendously powerful. Her eyes, her dignified intelligence, and her self-restraint speak volumes. No camp here, just the telegraphing of quiet power.
Charles Boyer. Boyer was a man of substance; he served his country in World Wars I and II, studied philosophy at the Sorbonne, and stayed married to the same woman for over forty years. Again, as with Davis, he is restrained, as the narrative demands, but his substance telegraphs out of his body, his forced, tragic smiles, his stiff mien suddenly breaking into fitful efforts at frivolity, the quiet endurance with which he, at first, suffers his hated wife.
Barbara O'Neil is unforgettable as the Duchess de Praslin. O'Neil was the model of noble womanhood as Scarlett O'hara's mother; here she casts her decorum aside, after, first, shredding it to bits. I think I'll never be able to watch her in GWTW again without cracking up. Every Gothic Romance, including this one, requires a Hoyden - Rochester's mad wife, "Rebecca's" Mrs. Danvers. O'Neil chews them all to bits and spits them out. Even her false eyelashes appear as weapons, able to eviscerate her husband and her hated governess.
The supporting cast is no less superb. June Lockhart is a believably loving daughter; Harry Davenport, utterly un-French, is a wonderful, prophetic Pierre who warns Bette Davis and the viewer that when they enter the house of the Duke and Duchess, they enter Hell, and all hope should be abandoned.
Even the nasty girl who taunts Bette Davis at the opening of the film could not have been better cast.
Though black and white, the film reveals its high production values; it is rich and varied and offers the eye a sumptuous feast of fabrics, surfaces, and shadows. You won't miss color here at all.
I am torn about the plot, trying to decide if the movie wanted to make me, the viewer, experience the Duke as a weak man who allowed Mlle D, Bette Davis, to be exposed to so much social and emotional danger. I'd welcome others' thoughts on this question. In his apparent weakness, the Duke reminded me of the Paul Henreid, "Jerry" character in "Now Voyager," another married man who loved, and failed, a Bette Davis character.
Its best features include:
Bette Davis' performance. Before this I knew she was a spectacular entertainer; now I know she can act. She is subtle and yet tremendously powerful. Her eyes, her dignified intelligence, and her self-restraint speak volumes. No camp here, just the telegraphing of quiet power.
Charles Boyer. Boyer was a man of substance; he served his country in World Wars I and II, studied philosophy at the Sorbonne, and stayed married to the same woman for over forty years. Again, as with Davis, he is restrained, as the narrative demands, but his substance telegraphs out of his body, his forced, tragic smiles, his stiff mien suddenly breaking into fitful efforts at frivolity, the quiet endurance with which he, at first, suffers his hated wife.
Barbara O'Neil is unforgettable as the Duchess de Praslin. O'Neil was the model of noble womanhood as Scarlett O'hara's mother; here she casts her decorum aside, after, first, shredding it to bits. I think I'll never be able to watch her in GWTW again without cracking up. Every Gothic Romance, including this one, requires a Hoyden - Rochester's mad wife, "Rebecca's" Mrs. Danvers. O'Neil chews them all to bits and spits them out. Even her false eyelashes appear as weapons, able to eviscerate her husband and her hated governess.
The supporting cast is no less superb. June Lockhart is a believably loving daughter; Harry Davenport, utterly un-French, is a wonderful, prophetic Pierre who warns Bette Davis and the viewer that when they enter the house of the Duke and Duchess, they enter Hell, and all hope should be abandoned.
Even the nasty girl who taunts Bette Davis at the opening of the film could not have been better cast.
Though black and white, the film reveals its high production values; it is rich and varied and offers the eye a sumptuous feast of fabrics, surfaces, and shadows. You won't miss color here at all.
I am torn about the plot, trying to decide if the movie wanted to make me, the viewer, experience the Duke as a weak man who allowed Mlle D, Bette Davis, to be exposed to so much social and emotional danger. I'd welcome others' thoughts on this question. In his apparent weakness, the Duke reminded me of the Paul Henreid, "Jerry" character in "Now Voyager," another married man who loved, and failed, a Bette Davis character.