Al's Omniflick: Al's Omniflick Spotlight: Deborah Kerr

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Al's Omniflick Spotlight: Deborah Kerr

Deborah Kerr is one of those unsung talents in film history who had her share of accolades but whose career is now sadly eclipsed by the Hollywood glamour of yesteryear. If a critic or cinephile recalls actors and actresses of the 40s' or 50s', Kerr's name never or rarely rates a mention but one only need scan a list of her films and the brilliant directors she collaborated with to know how astonishing her career really was. Six Oscar nominations yielded no statuettes for Kerr but awards are seldom a true assessment of one's greatness.

Born in Scotland in 1921 and reared in England, Kerr cut her thespian teeth on London stages before landing her first screen role (actually her second; her scenes were deleted in her first film) in the 1941 production of Major Barbara; an adaptation of a George Bernard Shaw play. She performed in several more films before being cast in the now classic Black Narcissus, Michael Powell's haunting story of a monastery in the Himalayas. Denied her full femininity in a Nun's habit, Kerr manages to be luminous and lovely while offering a searing performance as a Nun whose desperate attempts to run a monastery in the dizzy Himalayan heights leads to the madness of isolation among some of her colleagues.

Kerr earned her first Oscar nomination for her role in George Cukor's Edward, My Son, sharing top billing with Spencer Tracy. The 1950s' saw Kerr merit 5 more Oscar nominations, including iconic roles in From Here to Eternity and The King and I. Her beach interlude with Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity has become one of the most enduring images in cinematic history, while Yul Brynner specifically requested Kerr for the role of the governess in The King And I. Kerr's last Oscar nomination came in 1960 for The Sundowners, which re-teamed her with Robert Mitchum; the two shared the screen only three years before for Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison for which she received another Oscar nomination.

My favorite Deborah Kerr performance and my favorite of her films is the 1961 adaptation of Henry James' Turn of the Screw; re-christened The Innocents for the screen. Truman Capote's brilliant script, Jack Clayton's inspired direction and Freddie Francis' superb, spookily moody cinematography all contribute to the film's enduring magnificence but it is the sum of Kerr's masterful performance as the governess that makes the whole. Her character, Miss Giddens, begins a seemingly innocent position as a governess to two children, only to find the spirits of lovers who once worked on the estate are using the children as conduits for their diabolical trysts. As the creepy happenings accumulate, Miss Giddens is driven to near madness and despair as she tries to save the children. Kerr's performance captures Miss Giddens' naivete, her fear and finally her manic obsessiveness, which is tinged with a touch of subtle malignance.

Her film roles continued on through the 60s' though her career came to a halt in the 70s'. She acted in T.V. roles in the 80s' before retiring from acting but received received an Honorary Oscar for her screen work in 1994. She passed away in 2007.

Mentioning an actor's Oscar nominations really says nothing and means nothing in terms of talent and work. That Oscars have been awarded to many undeserving recipients attests to the statement's validity. Oscars don't really matter; enduring, solid, imaginative work does and Kerr's legacy reflects that notion. A luminous, delicate face with expressive, lovely eyes, an unerring taste for roles with dimension and shadows; a bend-but-doesn't-break fragility and a presence like that of a Black Narcissus flower with its colorful yet dark shades, define Kerr's onscreen personae and career. Kerr left many stirring characters for us to explore. And re-explore.

THE DEBORAH SIX: A few films from Kerr's singular career

1. Black Narcissus (1947) Kerr plays Sister Clodagh who is assigned to run a Himalayan monastery. Michael Powell's direction is excellent as is Kerr's performance. Kerr's performance is notable for being "face-only," as she wears a nun's habit the film entire, leaving her face to carry the emotive load. Luckily Kerr's talent and superlative eyes manage quite nicely.

2. From Here to Eternity (1953) Kerr's rollick on the beach with Burt Lancaster is a sexy, iconic scene. Her role as Karen Holmes allowed Kerr a rare opportunity to be a siren and she makes it pay dividends. Terrific performance. Kerr held her own against Lancaster's Adonis-charisma.

3. The King and I (1956) One of Kerr's most famous roles as a governess hired by the King of Siam (now Thailand) to instruct his children. Kerr's singing voice was dubbed but she still sparkles and again, more than holds her own against a very charismatic male lead.

4. Heaven Knows Mr. Allison (1957) Kerr plays a nun who finds herself alone on a Pacific island during WWII. She meets a marine who paddles his boat to the beach after the submarine he was on is sunk by the Japanese. The two unite to survive the enemy occupation of the island and form a bond in the process. Again Kerr dons a nun's habit for a film but Sister Angela is no Sister Clodagh; she is less angst-ridden and more life-loving but no less interesting. Mitchum and Kerr's chemistry makes the film though John Huston provides some lovely images. Kerr again shows her ability to act within sartorial limits.

5. The Sundowners (1960) Kerr plays Ida Carmody, wife to Robert Mitchum's Paddy as the couple and their child brave the Australian outback as sheep drovers. Again Kerr and Mitchum are teamed up and again, both scintillate. Kerr shows some wonderful moxy as she and Mitchum pull the family in different directions.

6. The Innocents (1961) Kerr shines as a governess hired to care for two children on a large, rural estate. The house is full of dark secrets and even darker shadows. Kerr demonstrates that her best work was wasn't all behind her. Her role as Miss Giddens is one for the ages.

To read an extended, more comprehensive bio on Deborah Kerr, click here: Deborah Kerr

1 comment:

UnknownMay 9, 2014 at 12:06 PM
Great post! Now I want to see ALL her films. And Mitchum's and Lancaster's too! So good to have a suggested viewing list... The picture montage rocks!
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On DVD

Fury (1936)

Director: Fritz Lang

Though we might normally think of the films M and Metropolis when director Fritz Lang becomes the topic of conversation, less known is the legendary director's work in Hollywood. Having fled the ever-growing menace of Nazi Germany for America in the early 1930s', Lang eventually found himself under contract for MGM.

Though his work in Hollywood is very uneven, one standout is Fury, from 1936. Starring Spencer Tracy and Sylvia Sydney, the film's condemnation of mob justice seems spectacularly daring now, considering lynching was still a reality in Depression-era America. We don't see one black person in the film entire but we know precisely for whom Lang film is sympathetic.

Spencer Tracy plays Joe Wilson, who is arrested in a small town while en route to meet his fiance, Katherine (Sylvia Sydney). Suspected of being part of a kidnapping of a little girl, Wilson is arrested on the flimsiest evidence. While he sits in cell; angry and indignant, Katherine is puzzled as to why her fiance hasn't arrived at their prearranged meeting place.

But Wilson's fortunes take a darker and more dangerous turn when a mob--already on edge--is roused to anger. Egging one another on, the mob moves on the jailhouse where Wilson is being held. As the angry gathering becomes a mass, drawing citizens of the town into their swelling numbers, a lynch-mob begins to form. The sheriff, determined to see due process take its course, refuses their forceful demands. Becoming angrier and angrier and bolder and bolder, the crowd storms the jail, overwhelming the sheriff and his deputies. Unable to unlock the cell doors to reach Wilson, the mob sets the jailhouse ablaze as an alternate method of lynching.

Katherine, having arrived on the scene, faints when she sees flames engulf the cell where her fiance is held.

In spite of the mob acting as a faceless entity, its principle members are brought to trial though the town and the defendants maintain a conspiracy of silence, hoping to escape convictions and censure.

A sure acquittal seems imminent until damning evidence assures their guilt. When the majority of the members receive death sentences, Wilson turns up at his brothers, having survived the fire. Knowing the public is unaware of his survival, he vows to stay in hiding to ensure the mob conspirators are executed.

The scene where Katherine, nearly insane from grief, comes face to face with Joe is a powerful moment in the film. As she slowly recovers from her state, she realizes Joe's vindictive determination to see the mob hang is in itself a great injustice.

The story climaxes during a stirring courtroom scene that brings the fascinating story to a close.

I would have never expected Hollywood to make a statement as powerful as Fury made in 1936. Given the fact that lynchings in America at the time went unpunished, the movie railed bravely, in spite of the main character being white rather than black, against what was then the status quo. The Oxbow Incident would make a similar and commensurately powerful statement seven years later.

The film's willingness to peer into the darker side of American life could be partly attributed to Lang, who co-wrote the story and who was no stranger to exploring the darker side of humanity. Having seen evil flower in his home country, it makes sense Lang would choose to tell this story.

Spencer Tracy and Sylvia Sydney give wonderful, emotionally layered performances. Katherine's near descent into madness is depicted touchingly by Sydney. To see Tracy's mild-mannered Wilson become angry and vengeful is heartbreaking.

Even watching Lang's film on a small screen does little to diminish its power. Weeks after the viewing, I still can't shake its indelible images or its angry indictment of one of America's great crimes. One couldn't devise a better title than one it was given eighty years ago. Fury indeed.