I wanted to return to "In a Movie Place" after a six-month break to recognize the 100th birthday of Olivia de Havilland on Friday, July 1. She is the last of the great movie stars of the Golden Age of Hollywood.
Her longevity, in our time, is a living link to a distant period of great creativity and innovation. She helped shape the movies and the industry that makes them, so I wanted to celebrate her varied career and a very long life seemingly lived with wit, beauty, graciousness and grace.
Her longevity, in our time, is a living link to a distant period of great creativity and innovation. She helped shape the movies and the industry that makes them, so I wanted to celebrate her varied career and a very long life seemingly lived with wit, beauty, graciousness and grace.
As
a young film buff, I was struck by de Havilland’s girlish regality, yet I came to
see the undercurrent of fire and toughness that lay beneath the ladylike exterior. I discovered varying aspects of this remarkable woman's work, depending on the
film I was watching and at which point in her long career. When she was good, de Havilland was very good. And at
times, she was brilliant. Let’s take a look at some of her best work over four key decades.
After a couple minor films, de Havilland appeared as Hermia in an
ambitious 1935 film adaptation of Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
Just 19, she is radiant, conveying the promise, energy, and joy of youth. (And
a tremendous ease with Shakespeare.)
During this decade she began her legendary teaming with
Errol Flynn. They would make six movies together. Whether playing princesses in
peril, Lady Marian to his Robin Hood, or a spunky gal of the Wild West, she
provided Flynn with a beautiful, charming foil. But these were hardly the difficult
roles she wanted. As de Havilland herself wryly observed, “The life of the love interest is really pretty boring."[1]
She closed out the decade of otherwise frustrating
limitations with “Gone with the Wind” in 1939. It was her turning point. She
imbues the doomed Melanie with a requisite softness, but calls upon an
undeniable strength. Her sensitive portrayal garnered her first Academy Award
nomination as Best Supporting Actress—and put her on a new career footing.
Having proved herself as part of an outstanding ensemble in
“Gone with the Wind,” de Havilland followed as the star of “Hold Back the Dawn” (1941). She plays a naive schoolteacher duped by a man (Charles
Boyer) who marries her only to gain American citizenship. De Havilland brings a
definite pathos to the role, and was nominated for the Academy Award for Best
Actress. This achievement marked the beginning of a decade that brought big
changes to her career—and to the filmmaking industry.
During WWII, de Havilland made only five films. She spent a
significant part of this time volunteering with the USO, visiting troops in
psychiatric wards. At the same time, she was embroiled in a court case against Warner
Brothers Studios to fight against the seven-year contracts that typecast, limited, and sometimes destroyed actors’ careers and generally forced them to abide by the whims of the studio.
She was fighting against one-dimensional roles and substandard films, and she won the case—known as the de Havilland Decision. Her efforts changed the studio system forever, helping to usher in the era of independent talent.
She was fighting against one-dimensional roles and substandard films, and she won the case—known as the de Havilland Decision. Her efforts changed the studio system forever, helping to usher in the era of independent talent.
Having won that victory, the post-war years heralded her
best period. In “To Each His Own” (1946), she portrays an unwed mother who
gives up her child to avoid scandal. She becomes a successful businesswoman while
watching from a distance as her son grows over 25 years. The film illustrates the
possibilities—and limitations—of career women in the first half of the 20th century. She's so good, so moving, that she snagged her first Academy Award for Best Actress.
Montgomery Clift is dashing but duplicitous. |
But it’s the last movie she made in the 1940s that is the
capstone of her career. “The Heiress” (1949) is a brilliant adaptation by
director William Wyler of Henry James’s novel Washington Square. She plays
the shy, homely daughter of a widowed doctor (Ralph Richardson) in the 1880s, who scorns her social awkwardness and unattractiveness.
She falls for a dashing young man (Montgomery Clift), believing—incorrectly—she
has found love at last. But a pivotal turn of events enables de Havilland to sharpen her patented sweetness, revealing a fierce edge tempered by the realization that she has been fooled. Her final scene demonstrates masterful film acting
in what is the best movie of her career. She rightfully won the Academy Award for Best
Actress.
Like many actresses of her generation, the 1950s wasn’t
a particularly fruitful decade for de Havilland. She only made five films, and
in most there is an artificiality to her performances that stands in contrast
to the more naturalistic acting then coming into fashion.
One performance, however, stands out. In “Proud Rebel”
(1958), she is a tough landowner in post-Civil War America. A former
Confederate soldier (Alan Ladd) has come to her Illinois town as he is
making his way to Minnesota, where he hopes to get surgery for his mute young
son (played by Ladd's real-life son David). While there, he runs afoul of a nefarious family that
wants de Havilland’s land.
De Havilland gives the best performance of her post-studio
period, eschewing the saccharine quality of her lesser outings and tempering tenderness with a gritty world-weariness. As a widow with a sad
personal history, her pain and concern for Ladd’s little boy is etched on her
face. In this rugged setting, she is like an older, more jaded version of some
of the spirited ladies she played opposite Errol Flynn 20 or more years
before. This is a highly underrated film that deserves a look, if only for her work in it.
Long after many of her contemporaries had already moved into
“older woman” roles (or retired altogether), de Havilland embraced middle age by starring
in “The Light in the Piazza” (1962), as the caring mother of a mentally
challenged teenage daughter. She turns what could have been a one-dimensional
portrayal into a moving and heartfelt characterization, conveying the clash between her protective instincts and the wish to permit her
daughter a degree of personal freedom. The film is rooted in mid-century ideas of morality, but de Havilland's performance still stands out.
Her last two titles of this tumultuous decade followed the trend of
casting older actresses in horror films. In “Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte” (1964), de Havilland's sweetness is laid on thick, but it's just a precursor to a sadistic turn as she
terrorizes her cousin (Bette Davis). Following on that film's success, de Havilland took the lead in the exploitative thriller “Lady in a Cage." Here, thugs hold her hostage in the elevator of her swanky apartment and terrorize her, demonstrating that no one is safe from a changing and increasingly violent world.
Perhaps the film is a metaphor for actresses of her generation at that time; in films
at least, de Havilland’s regal bearing was becoming an anachronism, and women her age had no real place in Hollywood any longer. It's not a very good movie.
De Havilland closed her career as an actress in the 1970s
and '80s with guest spots, including disaster movies, made-for-TV outings, miniseries, and popular shows like
“The Love Boat.” (Everybody was doing it). She took her last acting role, in any medium, in 1988.
Never a performer who relied upon patented mannerisms or
affectations, de Havilland did have a tendency to overact if she wasn’t reined in. At times she could be alternately cloyingly sweet or overbearing, especially when she attempted comedy (not her forte).
As a friend recently pointed out, she was at her best when she held still.[2] But still waters, as they say, run deep; when she had the opportunity to supplant her inherent wholesomeness with an underlying darkness, she could be surprising.
As a friend recently pointed out, she was at her best when she held still.[2] But still waters, as they say, run deep; when she had the opportunity to supplant her inherent wholesomeness with an underlying darkness, she could be surprising.
She said in an interview in 2006: “My ambition had been to
play difficult roles or to do difficult work and to do it well.”[3] I’d say that,
over a career spanning more than 50 years and encompassing iconic milestones in
film history—both on camera and off—she accomplished her goal.
Olivia de Havilland represents the very last of the Golden
Age of Hollywood of the 1930s and '40s. But her best work will endure, as will her contribution to
the creation of the style and technique of the movies as a modern medium. We’re
fortunate to have been connected to her living presence for so long—an entire century, in fact. So, here's to the lady rebel whose legacy will be good work done well.
1 and 3: Academy of Achievement, “Interview:Olivia de Havilland - Legendary Leading Lady,” October 5, 2006
2: Dave Singleton, author of "Crush," "The Mandates" and many articles on popular culture.
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