Cast: Bette Davis, Paul Henreid

Director: Irving Rapper

Screenplay: Casey Robinson

Running time: 1 hrs 58 mins

Genre: Dramas



CRITIQUE:


Former Bette Davis collaborator Michael Curtiz was once attached to helm this modern reworking of the classic fairy tale ‘The Ugly Duckling’. Davis, ever the adamant diva, both persuaded Warners that she’s perfect for the role of the repressed Bostonian dame Charlotte Vale and subsequently refused to work with the director. Curtiz dropped the project and went off to make Casablanca, whilst Davis toiled away with Irving Rapper, whom she would further collaborate for three more films. Strangely enough Casablanca and Now, Voyager were released the same year; of course, the former now being gilded in the annals of great American cinema whilst the latter ended up backlogged in the women’s picture canon. Davis must have been furious. It’s easy to claim that Casablanca is a far superior film, but that shouldn’t undermine the fine qualities of this Bette Davis three-hanky weepie – branding this as a women’s picture is not only fair as much as apt. See its influence on James Cameron’s sinking-ship tearjerker Titanic, which still dominate the all-time box-office stakes. Thou shall not belittle the all-mighty power of women, eh?


This swoon-inducing love story of a bushy-browed spinster-turned-glamorous-chick is the stuff that fairy tales are made of, hence its morally cleaner narrative compared to, say, Casablanca. Here, this is a world where unattractive women, socially secluded women domineered by prissy, supercilious mothers (here Gladys Cooper reigns as the monstrous matriarch) have the chance to cruise on ships, wear fabulous ensembles and gets hitched with good-looking men. If not for Rapper’s sparkling direction and the excellent performances all around, this may be classed as a soaper. Cynicism aside, at the crux of this tale is a rousing spectacle of a woman claiming her right to freedom from parental jurisdiction. Davis is superlative and impeccably poised as the emboldened Vale (one of her most famous roles), drawing a brilliant character arc at the final act. The black-and-white photography gives a smoky, understated presence to Vale’s transformation, and Max Steiner’s Oscar-winning killer score emphasises much of the melodrama. And of course, who could forget Paul Henreid’s classic gesture, lighting two cigarettes at once and handing the other to Davis – pure exquisite. If that isn’t enough for reinforce its status, Davis’s concluding line, with tears glittering like pearls in her eyes, “Don’t let’s ask for the moon, we have the stars,” may be Now, Voyager’s “Here’s looking at you, kid.”


VERDICT:

A quintessential Hollywood soaper featuring a glittering performance by Davis, a debonair Henreid and a lot of cigarettes. Unapologetically romantic and perhaps one of the finest melodramas ever made.



RATING: A+