Last week I learned that a friend of mine passed away,
and in tribute to her memory, this week I am reviewing one of her favorite
films. The film is 1942’s Now Voyager
and it is considered one of the best of the ample canon of films that featured the
ever versatile Bette Davis. The film is a densely packed drama that explores
the familiar themes found in many melodramas of its day such as illicit
romance, personal transformation, family angst, and the emerging impact of
psychology on modern life. Despite its plethora of familiar ‘40’s trappings,
however, the film manages to remain relatively grounded and tells a heartfelt
tale of one woman’s struggle to lead a life of confidence and purpose after
years of being taught she isn’t worthy of such happiness.
The story begins with timid Boston socialite Charlotte
Vale (Bette Davis) receiving a visit from psychiatrist Doctor Jacquith (Claude
Rains) regarding a case of depression or anxiety that the film labels a
“nervous breakdown”. While Charlotte’s mother (Gladys Cooper) and well-meaning
sister-in-law (Ilka Chase) have orchestrated the appointment, Charlotte is
completely unaware of the doctor’s ulterior motives, and believes that his
visit with the family is purely a social one. Soon, however, Charlotte’s mother
spitefully reveals the ruse and tries to shame her daughter into refusing treatment.
Eventually, the doctor coaxes Charlotte into opening up and learns of the ways
in which her domineering mother has ruled over her life since childhood.
Confronted with her own pathetic state, Charlotte finally breaks down and makes
her first step in reclaiming her life by asking the doctor to treat her against
her mother’s wishes. After months at a posh facility, Charlotte embarks upon a
cruise to South America to debut her new look and new attitude. While on the
trip, she meets charming architect Jerry (Paul Henreid), and the two strike up
a friendship. As they get to know each other, the pair realize that they have
been leading similarly stifled lives and start to fall for each other. When the
cruise ends, however, the couple are forced to return to the very broken homes
that they had fled and Charlotte’s recovery is put to the ultimate test.
Much like its ugly duckling heroine, Now Voyager is not the film that it
appears to be. While it does contain enough twists, romantic entanglements, and
coincidences to fill a full season of a soap opera, the film is strangely
restrained and poignant. The histrionics of the ‘weepies’ of its day are absent
as the script examines the effects of loneliness and abuse. Instead of
resorting to types, the film treats all of its relationships with an
objectivity that provides each character with a level of understanding that
makes them and their predicaments relatable. For instance, Charlotte’s mental
illness is revealed to be a side effect of constantly being oppressed by a
mother who made it all too clear that she would have been happier had
Charlotte, her ‘change of life baby’, never been born. Similarly, Jerry only
strays from his wife after years of suffering through a dictatorial
relationship in which he was forced to repeatedly give up his passions and
friendships. Thus, the couple create a believable portrait of two people trying
to reach out from their isolation rather than the saucy sinners that the plot
would suggest. Even Charlotte’s
vindictive mother is shown to be suffering from feeling abandoned and obsolete
as she desperately tries to maintain a role in her daughter’s changing life.
Beyond its characterizations, the film also
successfully manages to balance its complex script. Although the plot seems to
twist into a serious tangle, its later developments are really just an echo of
its essential premise. When Charlotte finally frees herself from her oppressive
family she creates a new life by making her own family, and when she meets
Jerry’s similarly depressed daughter (Janis Wilson) at Dr. Jaquith’s facility
she helps the girl by becoming part of her family. Through these parallel plot
lines, the film reiterates its emphasis upon the ways in which we can all
overcome adversity, with a little help from those around us. Similarly, the
echoing events show that depression and alienation are issues that can be found
in many homes of all kinds, rather than the marks of shame that Charlotte’s
mother attempts to portray them as. The film is also surprisingly progressive
in its portrayal of gender roles. For example, while Charlotte’s relationship
with Jerry is a turning point in her story, their romance does not solve any of
her problems. It is only when Charlotte decides to face her mother on her own
terms that she begins to overcome a lifetime of adversity. Furthermore, the
script presents her proposal to move out and get a job rather than continue
living with her mother as a logical plan instead of a radical last resort. The script
even remedies its portrayal of Charlotte as a stereotypical spinster by having
her end the film as independent and single by choice rather than the spinster
without options that she opens the story as. The script also offers a similarly
modern take on psychiatry with Doctor Jaquith portrayed as an average man
trying to do his job rather than the genius (as seen in Spellbound) or malignant force (as seen in Cat People) that therapists were often portrayed as in this era.
The script refreshingly avoids the familiar clichés of blot tests and hypnosis
and instead shows the hard work and dedication that treatment requires. Finally, the film realistically portrays the
ways in which treatment alleviates, but does not obliterate mental illness as
Charlotte continues to struggle, albeit with increasing success, against her
own trauma and insecurity.
The cast provide uniformly excellent performances that
bring the story alive with an elegance and emotional honesty befitting a true classic.
Bette Davis is a revelation as Charlotte and conveys each stage of her
character’s evolution with intelligence and empathy. Paul Henreid makes Jerry a
fully fleshed person in his charming performance rather than a generic love
interest and portrays his outward joviality and inner torment with equal skill.
Janis Wilson provides a generally believable performance, but occasionally displays
the theatricality of many child actors. Claude Rains lends excellent support as
the understanding Doctor Jacquith as does Gladys Cooper as Charlotte’s vicious
mother.
Through its combination of believable writing and captivating
performances Now Voyager conveys an
emotional tale that rises above its label as a melodrama. The film relays a
resonating message; happiness is possible for any of us as long as we are able
to work for it and recognize it in its myriad forms. The title of this film
comes from a quote from Walt Whitman in which he instructs us to “go now
voyager to seek and to find”; I strongly encourage you to seek out this film
and find all of the pleasures that it has to offer.
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