Best Actress 1949: Deborah Kerr in "Edward, my Son"

What qualifies an actor or an actress to become one of Oscar’s biggest losers? It certainly can’t be a lack of talent – after all, a lot of nominations are necessary to be among the biggest losers and nominations need to be earned just as much as the actual win. For the same reason it also cannot be described as a case of lack of admiration by Academy members. The most obvious reason is clearly the simple fact that Academy members never considered any of the nominated performances in an actor’s career as the best of the year – this is basically also the reason for any Oscar loss but there need to be some other factors that can explain why an actor or an actress was able to collect and impressive number of nominations but simply was never able to turn one of them into a win. Besides the feeling that none of the nominated performances were ever the best of the year it must have been a case of wrong timing plus a lack of sentiment and attention at the crucial time – some actors can be seen as overdue when they receive their second nomination, others can be a five-time loser and still don’t become a factor in the race. Of course, the status ‘overdue’ should not be the main token when Academy members fill out their ballots but the truth is that more than one Oscar winner benefitted from a surge of ‘isn’t it time?’ feeling among Oscar voters, irrespective of the quality of their performances which might either have been strong enough to actually merit an Oscar by themselves and received only additional support by this sentimentality or which would most likely not have taken home the award without it. But how does this sentiment arise in some cases and fail to emerge in others? Surely the impact that the actor made during those previous losses plays an important part in this – how close was this person ever to winning and how satisfied are Academy members with the actual choices they made those years? Were the previous losses a surprise or had they been expected? And even if the sentiment for an overdue award is strong, the nominated performance still needs to provide some kind of artistic or popular appeal to convince Academy members to give their vote to an actor or actress whom they might otherwise have ignored. Obviously, all of this is pure speculation but it provides an interesting look at the fate of Deborah Kerr, with six losses over a time span of 11 years between 1949 and 1960 the biggest loser in the Best Actress category before she finally received her blessing from the Academy with an Honorary Award in 1993. Why was she never able to turn one of her nominations into an actual win – again, the most obvious answer is that Academy members simply never considered her performances the best of the year but why was there never a surge of sympathy or support that maybe could have turned her into an Oscar winner when so many other performers were able to finally triumph after a couple of unsuccessful nominations? Overall, her misfortune during those 11 years can most likely be explained as a combination of all different circumstances – the constant presence of an overwhelming frontrunner or at least strong co-favorite made her losses always expected and therefore less noticeable during all those years, sentimental reasons that might have existed were constantly overshadowed by even more sentimental reasons for the actual winner and her performances maybe qualified as ideal nominees but lacked the overall impact that most other Oscar winners during those years provided. But why was this? Unlike many other performers, Deborah Kerr was able to secure a nomination for the most iconic role of her career – the adulterous wife who makes love to Burt Lancaster on the beach in From Here to Eternity. Considering the popularity of From Here to Eternity, which was the first movie to tie the overall Oscar record of Gone with the Wind, and her change of image from a constant display of lady-like dignity to a bitter and unfaithful retaliator, Deborah Kerr could have been a strong contender but the appearance of Audrey Hepburn on the international movie scene made a win out of the question for her. Besides this, her part in From Here to Eternity lacked the screentime and importance of other leading ladies during that year and contributed no more to the overall tone of the movie than Donna Reed’s Oscar-winning supporting role which most likely also prevented an Oscar win for Deborah Kerr in 1953. Three years later Deborah Kerr won her next Oscar nomination for her performance in the musical The King and I which was a popular blockbuster with audiences and critics alike and had already brought a Tony to Getrude Lawrence for her work in the same role on the Broadway stage. The King and I was also popular enough to gain an Oscar for leading man Yul Brynner but co-star Deborah Kerr again faced a definite frontrunner as Ingrid Bergman’s performance in Anastasia had not only been hailed and awarded by critics but also marked her official return to Hollywood after her ‘exile’ in Italy. Of course, it’s impossible to say how the race would have turned out without Ingrid Bergman but it’s easy to imagine that Deborah Ker might have had a legitimate chance for the Oscar since the performances and movies of Nancy Kelly or Carroll Baker had most likely been too controversial for most Academy members and surely no one was eager to give Katharine Hepburn a second Oscar for her third nominated lonely spinster in The Rainmaker. The following year provided another good chance for Deborah Kerr to win an Oscar for her work as a stranded nun in Heaven knows, Mr. Allison – it was her fourth nomination, she had received the New York Film Critics Awards and she must have slowly been starting to appear as an ‘Oscar waiting to happen’. But Deborah Kerr always faced either a seasoned veteran or a promising newcomer who gave the kind of performance that the Academy loves to honor. And in 1957, newcomer Joanne Woodward played the part of a woman with three different personalities which was surely an almost engraved invitation to an Academy Award and had therefore turned her into a likely winner on Oscar night. The following year, Deborah Kerr received not only her fifth nomination but her third in a row – two facts that would usually put a lot of attention on her and her work but the circumstances of the race were again against her. Just like in From Here to Eternity, Deborah Kerr was again nominated for a role that could be described as supporting and again lacked the necessary impact to benefit from any sentiment that might have been on her side. But more than that, 1958 also saw the fifth nomination of Susan Hayward who had never made any secret of her desire for an Oscar and, after several losses for playing drunk, drunk and singing or wholesome and singing women finally took the last step and dared Academy members to deny her the award for portraying a woman walking innocently into the gas chamber in I want to live. But Susan Hayward’s performance not only overshadowed the work of Deborah Kerr like Joanne Woodward did the year before – her previous losses had also been much more noteworthy and she was most likely a close second in 1955 and the only alternative to Shirley Booth in 1952, making her win in 1958 an almost sure thing even with other overdue contenders like Deborah Kerr and Rosalind Russell in the race. And when Deborah Kerr received her sixth and final nomination, it was the beginning of a new decade, the consolidation of new talent and a change of style which makes it’s debatable how much Academy members were actually still paying attention to her career – maybe her sixth nomination could have created a sense of sentiment and considering that her performance had won Deborah Kerr a record-breaking third award from the New York Film Critics a vote for her work would not have been a purely sentimental choice but her losses and nominations had been so quiet over the years that it’s unlikely that she could have turned into a serious threat for the win now, especially since the ceremony in 1961 was completely overshadowed by the longing of the Academy to bestow the honor on Elizabeth Taylor whose tragic illness turned her critically panned work in BUtterfield 8 into a sure victory on Oscar night. After this last nomination, Deborah Kerr continued to deliver noteworthy performances but the Academy had moved on – Deborah Kerr had just not been its true love but rather a good friend with whom it had spent a couple of years but dropped after a while when its taste and interest shifted. So basically, Deborah Kerr combined all the factors that were needed to turn herself into the biggest loser in the Best Actress category – her losses were never surprising nor considered undeserved in their days which also led to little attention to her overdue status and her performances simply did not offer enough impact to convince Academy members to bypass the strong frontrunners or obvious choices she was competing against. At the end all the favorites took home the gold, the missions were accomplished and casualties are to be expected. Promising newcomers and seasoned veterans won the awards over Deborah Kerr and she somehow never managed to be either of them…Her maybe biggest misfortune at the Oscars is probably the fact that she might have had the best chance to win during her career in 1947 – her work in Black Narcissus was honored by the New York Film Critics and it was also generally considered one of the weaker years for Best Actress which might have allowed her an actual win but the Academy did not nominate this particular performance but waited another two years before they recognized her for the first time for her role as the suffering wife of Spencer Tracy in the movie version of the stage play Edward, my Son. This first nomination has not been mentioned yet in the look at Deborah Kerr’s Oscar nominations and again it’s easy to state that there has been little chance for her to win the award as Olivia de Havilland was the overwhelming frontrunner due to her universally acclaimed transformation from a shy, introvert girl into a remorseless spinster in the Best Picture nominee The Heiress. Of course, this look at Deborah Kerr’s Oscar chances over the years is based on the trends of the time, what is known about the respective races and how her performances were perceived during their time and not any kind of indication of the quality of her actual work, if her losses were underserved or justified and it also doesn’t mean that she would have easily won without the actual winners in the competition – but this review of the nominated performance that started her relationship with the Academy seems like an ideal opportunity to speculate why she never benefitted from a surge of sympathy during her career like so many other performers did and how close she actually ever was to win the coveted award. But an actual analysis of her efforts needs more careful consideration and it is also not meant as a mere comparison of different performances but an appreciation of her work judged by itself. So the question is not if Deborah Kerr’s performance in Edward, my Son was actually more deserving than that of winner Olivia de Havilland but rather how strong it was, irrespective of her competition or any other circumstances.

Most of the talk on the Best Actress lineup of 1949 seems to focus on the aforementioned transformation of Olivia de Havilland’s character in The Heiress – but the year actually saw two equally drastic changes in the category that were equally caused by bitterness, desperation and regret but shaped more strongly by the influence of alcohol which turned Susan Hayward’s Eloise from lovelorn college girl into a bitter and regretful drunk and Deborah Kerr’s Evelyn from a supportive wife to a desperate and lonely shell of her former self. In the case of Deborah Kerr, it’s a change that doesn’t come over a short period of time but actually slowly develops over the course of many years, from the birth of her beloved son Edward to his ultimate death as a young man at the beginning of World War II. It’s a character arc that can be viewed in clear, distinctive steps during Edward, my Son – the character of Evelyn is not of secondary importance in the story but she is still a secondary role compared to Spencer Tracy’s Arnold who drives the story forward with his desire to spoil his son and giving him everything humanly possible, with means that are both legal and illegal, and ruins more life than one during the run of the story. His wife Evelyn appears in various, almost closed chapters that constantly display a different side to the character and show her way to a destruction that is both self-inflicted and caused by her husband in precise steps. The part could be considered supporting but unlike From Here to Eternity and Separate Tables, the two other movies that won Deborah Kerr leading nominations for comparatively small roles, Edward, my Son does not feature another prominent female character and the struggle between Evelyn and her husband is the main emotional center of the movie, even if Evelyn constantly drops out of the story which focuses more strongly on the character of Arnold anyway. Interestingly enough, the most important character in Edward, my Son remains an invisible influence – like Sebastian in Suddenly, Last Summer, Edward is the constant reference point of the story, the constant subject of conversation, the reason for the action of all other characters and the only thought in the life of his mother and also like Sebastian he always remains unseen and unheard, only existing through the reflections of his parents, friends and acquaintances. Their thoughts and ideas on Edward differ drastically and while Arnold worships his son and is willing to do everything to get him ahead, his mother cannot overlook the faults of his characters even if they are mostly caused by the actions of her husband – the money, influence and actions of his father have apparently gone to his head and turned him into a spoiled and careless young man who treats other people with the same lack of respect as his father does. It is ultimately the combination of these two men that will cause the downfall of Evelyn – her inability to shape her son according to her own ideas and teach him the meanings of such values as respect, self-responsibility or humility and the hate of her own husband who is even willing to destroy his own wife as long as he can keep his influence over his son lead to her decline and downward spiral of despair, surrender and alcohol. It’s a surely drastic and unlikely character arc and the lack of screentime could easily have resulted in an exaggerated development but the role benefits from a clear presentation at each state of this arc, making the different steps in the life of Evelyn both believable and memorable. Still, a character like Evelyn Boult seems to be strangely unprobable for an actress like Deborah Kerr – even in her most unusual parts she always possessed a rare charisma of poise and elegance and while Evelyn was allowed to display those qualities in some parts of the story, the role mostly asked Deborah Kerr to be exactly the opposite of those features and appear completely ordinary in the beginning and broken-down and washed-up in the end. Most of all, the role of Evelyn stands as a symbol for all the damage that her husband is causing – like a vessel that has to accept and absorb all the pain he is inflicting on others and herself, Evelyn Boult stands as the constant reflection of her husband’s actions. She doesn’t benefit from his way to the financial top and has clearly never been more happy in her life than when she and Arnold were an ordinary couple without a large amount of money but still happy around each other and adoring their little baby boy without knowing yet how he would turn out as a young man – she is the living reflection of her husband’s amorality, being destroyed more and more as he sinks lower and lower on the scale of moral behavior even if his actions are not always directed against herself. But Evelyn accepts her burdens and maybe creates even new ones for herself – the story and her husband leave the opportunity to accept her life as it is and make the best out of it but Evelyn’s arc leads right into a mere existence of pity and self-pity, wondering where everything went wrong while doing nothing to try to set it right. All this makes the role of Evelyn Boult both exhausting and exciting because the rise from housewife to trophy wife and subsequent decline to bitter drunk while also presenting the movie’s sole conscience is thrilling and impressive but the passive nature of the part and the little influence it presents in the story also make it difficult for an actress to not let the tragedy completely overshadow her own intentions. Deborah Kerr’s own interpretation of the role made it possible for Evelyn Boult to fulfill all the tasks of the story and she successfully adds the emotional intensity to both her role and the picture to become a contrasting mirror for her husband’s actions but Deborah Kerr could not avoid all the traps of the role, especially in the final parts of the movie which show that she was not always comfortable outside of her usual acting style.

If the appearances of Deborah Kerr in Edward, my Son are single chapters, then the first one would likely be titled ‘happy housewife’ – but maybe the word ‘happy’ is already too strong because even if Deborah Kerr is showing her character at her most carefree and relaxed, she still already showed hints of her inability to fully grasp all of her husband’s ideas and intentions and is not able or willing to understand all of his plans for their future life and his business. But even more noticeable in those moments is how much Deborah Kerr is unlike her usual screen-personality, letting the normality of the character shine with little but still intriguing acting choices like silently quieting her husband down so that he won’t wake up their baby boy or quickly cleaning up the room before a visitor comes to their son’s birthday party. She also portrays Evelyn as a woman who is more than content with the life she is leading, telling her husband how happy she is with the way things are for them right now but she again injects this moment with a certain worry as if Evelyn is trying to prevent her husband from doing anything that might damage their life, apparently already sensing his determination to get ahead for the sake of his son and consequently ruining those around him. But even with those frail hints at the movie’s later scenes, Deborah Kerr also uses this first scene to display the passiveness of her role and shows how Evelyn is constantly willing to accept her husband’s plans and behaviors as long as it benefits their son and how she is already completely focusing her life on her child, letting Evelyn react with a mixture of delight and implicitness to her husband’s announcement that their new baby carriage was the best in the store. A later scene of secondary importance might be titled ‘suffering mother’ as Evelyn and her husband learn of their child’s threatening condition but the scene itself does not allow Deborah Kerr more than a display of tears and worries and she also tends to be slightly overdramatic in those moments, emphasizing the sorrow of her character too strongly without finding the right balance to her more quite and dignified screen personality. Her maybe strongest impression comes in her next two chapters which could be called ‘trophy wife’ and ‘rebellious wife’. After her husband has managed to turn himself into a rich, influential but morally more and more dubious character, Evelyn constantly rejects his decision for Edward and the life he is giving him while taking that exact lifestyle also for granted. She cannot stop herself from quietly mocking and blaming Arnold for organizing an extravagant skiing trip for Edward but accepts those opportunities and possibilities for herself apparently without thinking about it. Nevertheless, Deborah Kerr adds another intriguing layer to this character by hinting at the fact that Evelyn is very much aware of her own status and of her dependence from her husband but also the benefits she gets to enjoy – but she fears that her son might turn out to be just like her and Deborah Kerr movingly shows a woman who has apparently given up hope for herself but still thinks that her child can be different and find a way of life that she could not. When she asks an old friend to talk to Arnold about Edward and tell him that one can kill somebody else by not treating that person as a human being, there is little doubt that she is talking on her own behalf just as much as on that of her son – but that scene also stands as a symbol for the major problem that draws through her performance, namely that of a melodramatic tendency that lets her acting style appear too stylized and exaggerated in certain moments. But it’s also a testament to the strength of Deborah Kerr’s screen presence that even if those moments always become clearly obvious she still avoids to ruin the effect of her performance by crafting the tone of that moment in perfect harmony with the tone of her own intentions – she might be exaggerating her emotions or staring too strongly into the open space but she still always adds the necessary amount of gravitas and pathos to the moment without either letting any opportunities pass by or overdoing them. Even if her acting style might somehow be too melodramatic, the melodrama itself always finds the right balance, becoming a part of the story instead of interrupting it. Her whole appearance in this scene is an effective and intriguing display of a woman who beings to doubt everything she has achieved in life so far but is not able yet to try to direct her will in a different direction. But Deborah Kerr laid another foundation in this scene for her next chapter ‘rebellious wife’ in which the marriage between Arnold and Evelyn has turned into open despise and she openly questions the character of her son, fearing that the influence of her husband will destroy his morals completely. The whole scene is dominated by the theme ‘will she or won’t she?’ which Deborah Kerr handles with both plausibility and ambiguity. Even despite the fact that her Evelyn clearly enjoys the privileges that come from her husband’s wealth, making trips around the world with her son and having no worries except how this son is being raised, her plan to abandon Arnold and his money together with Edward and teach him the importance of earning money and living a life away from prosperity and importance feels plausible and believable and in this constant struggle between husband and wife both actors make it very easy to let the audience sympathize with Evelyn and her intentions. Deborah Kerr’s delivery of the line that Arnold’s carelessness about the wrong-doings of their son is the most terrible aspect of this whole situation summarizes the whole relationship with her husband and her son and shows that she hasn’t given up her hopes yet completely. But on the other hand, Deborah Kerr doesn’t let Evelyn talk about her plans with too strong emphasize and she gives up those same plans almost too quickly again after her husband defies and openly threats her – obviously the structure of the movie doesn’t leave a lot of room for Evelyn’s character to develop and therefore often has no other choices but reduce her to a passive and accepting victim to get the story and its message across but Deborah Kerr’s acting makes those shortcomings plausible by doubting if Evelyn would really ever possess the strength to turn her plans into reality or if she actually hadn’t expected that her plans would succeed in the first place. But she also avoids letting Evelyn appear too weak in those moments – instead, her performance always works as the aforementioned reflection of her husband’s emotional cruelty and she effectively and touchingly shows a woman whose entire life and existence is turned to ruins by the actions of her husband and own inability to reject those actions. In the end, her final chapters ‘drunken wife’ summarize this whole destruction when Evelyn has turned into a bitter and delusional drunkard, finding no other solution to cope with her daily life anymore. In those moments, Deborah Kerr clearly suffers from two things – the fact that her make-up and costumes too much exaggerate her appearance but also her own acting which turns Evelyn too often from character to caricature, portraying the intoxication with a stumbling speech and shaky body movements that again could easily distract from the situation. But in those final scenes Deborah Kerr again fulfills the task of being the movie’s conscience, showing a woman standing in front of the ruins of her own existence, desperately shouting that she doesn’t know why it all went wrong and not able to find any use anymore of the company of her old friend Larry with whom she might have had the happy marriage that she couldn’t find with Arnold. Her acting does become too overdone too many times in those moments and she clearly plays the sort of drunk she and the movie imagine a drunk would be like but she still knows how much the camera can take and how far she has to go to fulfill the movie’s message and she even adds some unexpected humor when she wants to get out of a social event by pretending to have a headache and Arnold demands of her to go anyway and she slyly thanks him for curing her so fast. And most of all, Deborah Kerr provides the single most haunting moment of the story when Evelyn finally stands up against Arnold, positioning herself opposite him for the first time and telling him that he can pretend all he wants but that he himself, too, has lost every sense of direction – it’s a moment that Deborah Kerr portrays with the spontaneity of a drunk who just gave in to a sudden urge and with an impression of careful preparation, of finally wanting to say what should have been said for far too long.

In the end, it’s an almost confusing performance – Deborah Kerr always improves Edward, my Son whenever she appears but the effect of her performance is always diminished when she leaves the screen for too many scenes and even years. Edward, my Son does not show the process of her transformation but only the results and Deborah Kerr’s acting style feels clearly out of her comfort zone during her final moments. But even with all those problems she still makes the transformation of Evelyn completely believable and she manages to find the story’s most moving and memorable moments in her performance, avoiding to let Evelyn appear too constructed by making her suffering and downfall a plausible consequence of her husband’s actions. And even her final scenes which could have been easily destroyed by her slightly unadjusted acting style still manage to dominate the movie and bring it to a haunting and devastating conclusion that evokes the overwhelming feeling of a wasted life and missed opportunities. A moving, occasionally heartbreaking and intriguing performance that maybe could have achieved more but still came to life with haunting reality.

Best Actress 1949: Loretta Young in "Come to the Stable"

An overwhelming frontrunner in a praised and award-winning dramatic performance and a field of four nominees that all seem to be have not a single chance for the gold, including Loretta Young with a light and charming performance in a popular and crowd-pleasing dramady. The Best Actress category of 1949 appeared to have all the ingredients to become a perfect copy of the race in 1947, only this time the favorite actually managed to win the award – and a loss for Olivia de Havilland might have been an even bigger upset than the loss of Rosalind Russell whose Mourning Becomes Electra was much less acclaimed than The Heiress and who hadn’t established herself as the same kind of admired and respected thespian even if she was among the biggest stars in Hollywood. And simultaneously a win for Loretta Young in 1949 would also have been an even bigger shock than her legendary out-of-nowhere-win in 1947 because it would have been her second Oscar in three years and Come to the Stable is an even less likely ‘Oscar movie’ than the already harmless and unaspiring The Farmer’s Daughter, despite the fact that this story of two nuns who collect money to build a children’s hospital was among the most-nominated movies of 1949 – Oscar voters obviously responded very well to the message and sentimentality of Come to the Stable which shows how never-ending faith and goodness can create little miracles but in the end they denied it an actual award and the outcome in all the races turned out as expected, including the winner of the Best Actress award. But even if Loretta Young did not win another Oscar for her work in Come to the Stable it’s easy to imagine that the movie itself and the character of Sister Margaret were still much closer to her heart than Katrin Holstrom and The Farmer’s Daughter since she was probably the most famous member of the Catholic Church in Hollywood, a devout Christian who liked to set up swear jars on movie sets and apparently more than once annoyed co-star Celeste Holm by telling her to act and behave more like a nun during the filming of Come to the Stable. In some aspects, Come to the Stable therefore appears to be some kind of ‘passion project’ even if it is not the same kind of ‘star vehicle’ that The Farmer’s Daughter had been for Loretta Young – it did not allow her any tricks, didn’t give her any laughs or an engaging love story and instead demanded a very straight-forward approach that would carry the picture without taking away from the overall storyline. And so Come to the Stable never turns into an actor’s showcase but at the same time it completely depended on the actors abilities to bring the sentimentality of the story to live without letting it appear implausible or too sugary. That’s why it cannot be called a true ‘passion project’ because Come to the Stable lives from its simplicity, its modesty and its lack of vanity in every aspect of its implementation and never comes across as the kind of movie that was made out of a deep desire or was the result of live-long efforts – instead, it combines a light playfulness, a slight touch of humor with a visible seriousness and dedication and turns into an artless and often hollow but still strangely engaging story thanks to its worthwhile cast which actively created this playfulness and seriousness and also knew how to balance these two differences. Considering Loretta Young’s own dedication to the Christian faith it is not surprising that hers was the more serious and thoughtful approach while her co-stars Celeste Holm and Elsa Lanchaster provided the lighter, more humorous moments of the story. This again further underlined the contrariness of a movie that did not give its actors much to work with while depending on these actors at the same time – Come to the Stable needed its cast to work in harmony with its own modesty and simplicity, therefore asking them to reduce their own presence to the point of becoming a vessel for the story’s message but it also needed their commitment to give this message personality and character. And what does this finally mean for its actors? Looking at the Oscar nominations that Come to the Stable received it appears that they more than succeeded in their tasks and even went beyond any limitations of the script – with three acting nominations, Come to the Stable after all positioned itself above movies like Nashville, Gosford Park, The Best Years of our Lives or Hannah and her Sisters. And so the movie invites to a closer look at its lauded cast to find out if Academy members only allowed themselves to be touched by the inspirational story which made them give their blessing to Loretta Young, Celeste Holm and Elsa Lanchaster or if these three actresses, and in particular Loretta Young, were able to use the simplicity of their roles to give performances that subtly suggested and hinted at something more beneath the surface and to inject these characters not only with the message of the screenplay but a life of their own.

The portrayal of characters than can be described as wholly good and wholesome is one that can easily be underestimated. Usually evil or ambiguous characters, anti-heroes that cannot easily be classified gain the larger amount of critical praise. The reason appears simple since these kinds of characters usually give the actors more opportunities to develop their own style, they allow different shades and variations and they tend to create a stronger influence over their picture. But it can actually be more difficult to carry a picture or simply brining a role to live with a constant focus on an undying goodness – Jennifer Jones is a beautiful example of an actress who was able to build her entire performance around the innocence and simplicity of her character in The Song of Bernadette and Gregory Peck almost embodied decency and respect in To Kill a Mockingbird without appearing saint-like in any way. But these two performances also point out that characters like this need to be tested in their goodness, need to face certain challenges to cause a variation in the personality and the performance or there is a danger of repetition and one-dimensionality very soon. Ingrid Bergman’s work in The Bells of St. Mary’s faced these kinds of problems for most of the movie’s running time until the last 15 minutes allowed her to create some haunting moments of self-doubt and quiet desperation. And Paul Scofield’s Sir Thomas Moore would also have been only half as interesting if his adhere to his personal believes had not been responsible for his ultimate downfall. In this aspect, Loretta Young benefitted from the script of Come to the Stable since the struggle of Sister Margaret to raise money for her hospital is its major storyline but Come to the Stable is also a movie that never truly dives into its broader issues and constantly stays on the surface of its own presentation. It never offers any true obstacles but only contemporary setbacks and always wants to keep a certain ‘feel-good-feeling’ to the point that the plot becomes of almost secondary importance since all outcomes and twists are already expected long before they happen and Come to the Stable becomes more noteworthy for its parts instead of its whole – even the task of getting land for the hospital from what appears to be well-known criminal takes only a matter of minutes for these two persistent nuns. Come to the Stable obviously never intends to challenge itself or the audience and it completely fulfills its goal of becoming the kind of heartwarming and engaging story that can be enjoyed on a rainy afternoon but this also indicates that none of the actors are truly ever challenged in any way or asked to craft a character out of their templates. And Loretta Young is actually the cast member that suffers the most from this since Celeste Holm and Elsa Lanchaster are not asked to do much more than add some comedic touches to their performances which they both do adequately and without throwing the story off-balance. But Loretta Young has the task of focusing more strongly on the serious moments of the script while actually starring in a movie that is not truly offering such moments. And since her fight for the hospital is always done in the most harmless but also heartwarming way, her moments of quiet desperation, contrary to those of Ingrid Bergman’s nun in The Bells of St. Mary’s, never appear as grand as they would like to be – which basically leaves Loretta Young with little else to do than the aforementioned display of goodness and warmth without any shades or any deeper look at the inner depth of Sister Margaret. And this thinness of the central part makes Loretta Young’s performance also one that is quite peculiar in the Best Actress category – seldom has a nomination been given for a role that so completely lacks every bit of character, every bit of wider life outside a single mission, every bit of depth and even the smallest kind of development or storyline that is not solely focused on the major plot. It’s a performance that can be praised for being heartwarming and doing nothing wrong and can at the same time be criticized for doing nothing at all – and both statements are true. The role of Sister Margaret is almost completely empty – but thankfully Loretta Young’s performance isn’t and like Come to the Stable itself, her work is more noteworthy for smaller details than its entirety. Her performance shows how close the overall theme of Come to the Stable had been to her heart and how strongly she connected to the role of Sister Margaret, proving the truth of the fact that she doesn’t do a lot – but what she does strangely works even if the limits of the part can never be left behind.

Come to the Stable is the story of two nuns who come to a little town to build a children’s hospital but the category placement of Loretta Young and Celeste Holm is not truly a reason for outrage. Both actresses can be considered co-leads but Loretta Young’s performance is much more substantial and the different natures of the parts put Sister Margaret almost naturally at the centre of Come to the Stable – she is not only the woman who is pushing the story forward but also woman who is much more aware of the world, who naturally takes charge and to whom others quickly turn for guidance and support. Celeste Holm’s Sister Scholastica might share equal screen time but she is always a companion who goes along without ever stepping into the foreground, who is often mostly defined by her naivety and who lacks the same kind of determination and leadership qualities – both women might be equal in their faith and their human spirits but this role allocation made the classification of Loretta Young as leading actress and Celeste Holm as supporting actress both convincing and satisfying. And even though Loretta Young suffered from the fact that her performance, more than all the others, had nowhere to go, she still fulfilled the task of personalizing the story’s overall theme and motives, using only her rich and distinct voice and her bright face in a characterization that is never deep or truly challenging but serves the movie’s purpose and adds the necessary amount of honesty and sincerity without feeling either too forced or too exaggerated. This crafting of Sister Margaret as a sincere woman is probably the most laudable aspect of Loretta Young’s work – as mentioned before it’s not easy to create a character that is purely good and honest without appearing implausible but it cannot be denied that the constant happiness and warmth that Loretta Young displays always feels sincere and believable. And as mentioned before, too, such a characterization could easily become too repetitive after a while but in this regard Loretta Young benefitted from Celeste Holm’s work since the limited characterizations of both actresses successfully complement each other and made the one-dimensionalities of both parts less noticeable.

The performance of Loretta Young in Come to the Stable is the kind of work that is easy to overrate whenever it finds any chances of suggestions at the inner character of Sister Margaret because these kinds of small successes appear grander than they really are in the context of a role that only exists to express unlimited optimism and trust in the help of God. But these small moments only further underline that Loretta Young was always in full control of her character and understood that the story’s aim to entertain rested on Celeste Holm’s charm and lightweight acting style while its plausibility depended on her own ability to bring a certain level of deeper understanding to Sister Margaret and let her appear not only optimistic and faithful but also give her a sense of pragmatism and everyday capabilities and there are small moments during which she is able to emphasize the character of Sister Margaret a little more than the script would have done. The same kind of naivety that dominates the performance of Celeste Holm cannot be found in the work of Loretta Young and she demonstrates that Sister Margaret’s innocence and sincerity are more often than once just weapons that she uses precisely at the right moment to get what she wants – but Loretta Young is still honest enough in her performance to prevent the character from becoming calculating or slyly. Loretta Young was maybe not able to insert Sister Margaret with an inner depth but what she did was still crafting her as a believable and strangely complete character –it never feels unsatisfying in her work that Sister Margaret is a woman who only exists for a single purpose since her focus on this episode of this woman’s life made it appear that there could be many untold stories even if Come to the Stable decided not to tell them. When she tells Sister Scholastica that this is not the right time to ask a man for a donation or that they cannot ask for more support from Mr. Rossi, Loretta Young adds a friendly yet decisive guidance to her role and again fulfills the task of giving plausibility to the story of two nuns who are able to get everything they want not just by persistence and faith but also their own kind of wisdom. Again, it’s easy to overrate these parts of her performance which would probably have been realized by any other actress in this role, too, but they also deserve a closer consideration since Loretta Young’s strong screen personality and sincerity in the role added a special aura to Sister Margaret which maybe those other actresses might have missed. It’s mostly this high level of honest concern and open kindness that gives Come to the Stable the kind of atmosphere that would most likely be described as ‘heartwarming and uplifting’. Celeste Holm adds the needed humor to the proceedings but Loretta Young gave it spirit and its raison d’être. And so it’s not a surprise that her most memorable moment comes when this honest concern is at its most effective display – when Sister Margaret learns that the son of Mr. Rossi used to fight at Normandy, she tells him that he and his wife must be very proud and prepares to leave before she turns around again and asks, with a sensible tone of care, ‘Mr. Rossi, your son did come back, didn’t he?` When his answer turns out to be negative, Loretta Young’s face expresses the right amount of sorrow and condolement and her answer ‘How sad for you and your wife’ is as straightforward as possible, neither trying to give him any comfort when she knows that she can’t and neither trying to add even more pathos to the moment – the honesty and careful consideration of Loretta Young in this role is never more visible than in this short moment. But if this performance deserves a closer look at any almost hidden moments of occasional triumph then it also has to be observed for moments of failure. Because even if the role does not offer Loretta Young a character that goes deeper than her desire to raise money for a hospital, there are still a few moments that might have deserved more consideration – when Sister Margaret tells about her experiences in Normandy during the war when the hospital in which she worked was close to being destroyed, Loretta Young avoids all sentimentality but she also avoids all possibilities that could have showed how this time shaped and influenced her character apart from her desire to thank God by coming to America and build a hospital herself. And later, when she learns from Mr. Mason, a musician next door, that he knows the city in Normandy where Sister Margaret used to work, she only replies with a bright ‘Oh, how nice’ – Loretta Young is surely not to blame for the dialogue in this moment but since the audience knows what this expression means and it also knows that Sister Margaret must understand the deeper meaning of these words, too, she could have used this moment to show more than just kindness but also to communicate her own experience and the connection between herself and Mr. Mason. Loretta Young deserves praise for letting the kindness and gentleness of Sister Margaret dominate her performance without overbearing it but this approach also missed the chances to inject more shades of her past experiences into the role – as small as these chances might have been.

Overall, Loretta Young’s performance is nice too look at and she serves the movie well by never contradicting its intentions and it is also noteworthy that she is completely believable as a nun – scenes of her praying or praising God seem to flow naturally from her body and her spirit and it demonstrates that the combination of actress and character worked very well in Come to the Stable. But all this doesn’t change the fact that Come to the Stable wants to be a heart-rending and diverting experience without any complexity – the role of a determined nun who overcomes all obstacles to raise money for a children’s hospital could have provided a more multilayered approach but this was not the intention of Come to the Stable. All this is perfectly fine and Loretta Young clearly understood her material and the successful simplicity of her work is beautiful to look at and even makes her Oscar nomination appear logical and deserved despite the underdevelopment of her character. And so what’s on the screen is a strangely peculiar performance that offers occasional moments of grace and love but mostly lacks all of the qualities that would usually be expected from an Oscar-nominated piece of work. Still, Loretta Young’s distinctive screen presence and her ability to radiate warmth and kindness leave a maybe not lasting but often satisfying impression.

Best Actress 1949

The next year will be 1949 and the nominees were

Jeanne Crain in Pinky

Olivia de Havilland in The Heiress

Susan Hayward in My Foolish Heart

Deborah Kerr in Edward, My Son

Loretta Young in Come to the Stable

Ranking of the judged performances so far

This is the ranking of the updated performances so far.

You can read the full reviews by clicking on the name. 

Best of the Best

1. Anne Bancroft in The Graduate (1967)
2. Edith Evans in The Whisperers (1967)


Fantastic

3. Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and Clyde (1967)


Great

4. Gene Tierney in Leave her to Heaven (1945)
5. Bette Davis in Now, Voyager (1942)


Strong

6. Greer Garson in Mrs. Miniver (1942)


Very Good

7. Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce (1945)
8. Ingrid Bergman in The Bells of St. Mary's (1945)
9. Katharine Hepburn in Woman of the Year (1942)


Good

10. Katharine Hepburn in Guess who's coming to dinner (1967)
11. Audrey Hepburn in Wait until Dark (1967)


Acceptable

12. Teresa Wright in The Pride of the Yankees (1942)
13. Rosalind Russell in My Sister Eileen (1942)
14. Greer Garson in Valley of Decision (1945)
15. Jennifer Jones in Love Letters (1945)

YOUR Best Actress of 1945

Here are the results of the poll:

1. Joan Crawford - Mildred Pierce (28 votes)

2. Gene Tierney - Leave her to Heaven (13 votes)

3. Ingrid Bergman- The Bells of St. Mary's (4 votes)

4. Jennifer Jones- Love Letters (3 vote)

5. Greer Garson - Valley of Decision (0 votes)

Thanks to everyone for voting!

Ranking System

 Here is an overview of my ranking system

and what the different grades mean

---------------------------------------------------------

Best of the Best

Fantastic

Great

Strong

 

Very Good

 

Good

Acceptable

Unsatisfying

Disappointing

Bad

Some fun stats...

Just for fun, here are some statistics:


Most wins: Meryl Streep & Vivien Leigh (2 times each)

Most losses without a win: Greer Garson (4 times)

Most losses overall: Katharine Hepburn (6 times, but 1 win)

Most reviewed: Katharine Hepburn (7 times)

Most 5-star reviews: Bette Davis, Vivien Leigh & Meryl Streep (2 times each)

Most last places: Katharine Hepburn (3 times)

Most runner-ups: Bette Davis, Katharine Hepburn & Renée Zellweger (2 times each)

Best Actress 1945 - The resolution

After having watched and reviewed all five nominated performances, it's time to pick the winner!

5. Jennifer Jones in Love Letters

Jennifer Jones is mostly hold back by the script but her shortcomings as an actress, that can be very obvious whenever a role is not truly in her comfort zone, are often visible, too. Still, whenever she is allowed to shine and a scene allows her to display her own mysteriousness with the needed subtlety, Jennifer Jones truly creates some unforgettable and beautiful moments.

4. Greer Garson in Valley of Decision

                     

It seems that Greer Garson's talent was simply both too big and too small for movies like this – because on the one hand the role does not offer her anything to truly work with apart from feeling torn apart between different people and groups but at the same time she seems lost with the low quality of her material, unable to rise above it and only able to retreat to her own comfort zone which unfortunately too often contradicted the intentions of the script.

3. Ingrid Bergman in The Bells of St. Mary's

There are many moments in Ingrid Bergman's performance that never reach above average but she created something otherworldly during her final scenes and if she had been allowed to be on this high level all the time, then her performance would definitely have been much stronger and memorable. As it is, the strength of the final scenes does not help her to overcome the limitations of the script but she still leaves a lasting, heartwarming impression.

2. Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce

Joan Crawford’s work in Mildred Pierce is one of the strangest ones in this category – she so obviously lacks many important qualities that the part needed but she also feels so right in the role, so irreplaceable and so satisfying that it’s hard to deny her the respect she obviously demands. And she clearly fulfills the task of carrying the picture and turning it into a captivating and intense experience, making not only the flaws of her own work but even those of the script seem forgettable.                

1. Gene Tierney in Leave her to Heaven

Gene Tierney gave a chilling and noteworthy performance that perfectly fulfilled all the tasks of the script even if it sometimes remained too limited. Still, her ability to show Ellen’s slow descent into the darkness of her own mind, her inability to stop her actions to be completely alone with the man she loves and her way of beautifully underplaying all the madness and demons that haunt her results in various unforgettable scenes.

Best Actress 1945: Gene Tierney in "Leave her to Heaven"

What is a film noir? There seem to be a lot of answers to this questions but what a film noir basically always requires are a collection of dubious characters, some kind of mysterious, dangerous woman, stylized dialogue and actions, sexual tension around almost every corner and a combination of crime and lust. Does Leave her to Heaven fit into all this? Well, it probably fits into this template enough to quality for the title – the movie is undoubtedly extremely stylized, lust and desire drive the plot and Gene Tierney’s Ellen Harland certainly deserves to be called ‘dangerous’ even if she is not a typical femme fatale. In this way, Leave her to Heaven certainly resembles other classics from its era, most notably Double Indemnity which caused a whole series of movies telling a fatal, tragic and criminal story in flashbacks (even in the same year Mildred Pierce did just the same). Yes, Leave her to Heaven does have what it takes to be called a film noir, most notably the kind of artificial action and dialogue which very often is extremely superficial but, when done right, creates a whole world of its own in which everything makes sense, in which sexual tension believable influences a character’s decision in a few minutes and which not only exists despite all its stylized elements but actually because of it. And, of course, there are the other ingredients of film noir – a grim black and white cinematography, dark figures hiding in foggy alleys, crimes committed in the emptiness of a sullen street, a world that almost knows no sunlight. And obviously, this is the one aspect in which Leave her to Heaven couldn’t be more different – instead of darkness and gloom it gives the viewer an array of colors that would put Douglas Sirk to shame, blue skies and green trees dominate the landscape, a crime is committed in open daylight on a wide, beautiful lake, everything is covered with a bright, light and beautiful surface – but underneath, Leave her to Heaven hides the same kind of dark secrets that its brothers in black and white offer, a horrible truth behind respectful facades. This stark contrast between exterior and interior crafts a strikingly undecided atmosphere and presents a place that should be quiet and peaceful but is constantly haunted by tragedy and thus is maybe the biggest asset of Leave her to Heaven – or actually rather its second-biggest asset since the greatest aspect of Leave her to Haven is undoubtedly its leading lady who plays a role that maybe makes it very easy to leave a lasting impression since the actions and deeds of such a woman are impossible to forget but also has to be played with careful attention to remain probable enough on its own but also fits into its stylized surroundings.

Martin Scorsese apparently called Gene Tierney one of the most underrated actresses of the Golden Era – I cannot comment on this since my knowledge of her filmography is not extended enough for this but she was certainly much more than a pretty face and never afraid to show a dark, off-putting and arrogant side in her characters. And the words ‘more than a pretty face’ not only refer to her talents as an actress but also to the fact that the word ‘pretty’ doesn’t even begin to describe her riveting and transcendent beauty which maybe sometimes made it hard for her to get the credit as an actress she deserved but wonderfully helped her to overcome various problems in Leave her to Heaven’s script. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder and there are various different kind of beauties that have lightened up the movie screens over the years – there is the unique, sometimes sharp beauty of actresses like Katharine Hepburn or Bette Davis, the exotic and mysterious beauty of Greta Garbo or Marlene Dietrich, the sex-filled but also innocence looks of Marilyn Monroe, the elfin beauty of Audrey Hepburn or the timeless elegance and flawless looks of Grace Kelly. Most of all, Gene Tierney seems to fit into the category of Grace Kelly, a flawless and elegant beauty but she also possessed an exotic, even more obvious pulchritude that made her an almost surreal presence in her pictures. In black and white, Gene Tierney could glow and shine even in the darkest settings, in color she almost looked like a painting. Whenever she is given one of Leave her to Heaven’s long, wordless close-up, the strong, rich colors of the picture make her appear like a creature out of a fairy-tale – unreal and mystical but Gene Tierney’s face also knows a certain hardness and bitterness that helped her to always show the danger and rage hiding behind her eyes. Her beauty, despite its elegance and style, never appears innocent or soft – instead, she could explore various shades and layers in her characters, turning her face more than once into a window to her inner feelings and this way extend the women she played beyond her own beauty. As just mentioned, she could portray women who were charming and graceful but also spoiled, mean-spirited, arrogant and self-righteous. This was never displayed better than in The Razor’s Edge in which she constantly pushed the character of her alcoholic friend to the edge of her own mental and physical stability to regain her influence over the man she loved her whole life but rejected too many times. It’s a realistic portrayal in which Gene Tierney was willing to create a strongly off-putting but still intriguing character. This unlikable, ignorant quality somehow was very often visible in the women she played – and Gene Tierney’s voice, her elegant but also hard face, her representation of the feeling of constant superiority helped her immensely in her creation of Ellen Harland, a woman who slowly, step by step, reveals her obsessive nature and a feeling to have the right to sacrifice the existence of others for her own happiness.

In Leave her to Heaven, Gene Tierney’s beauty helped to cover various simplifications in the plot but her own interpretation of Ellen Harlan always goes beyond this and crafts this women with a clear, sometimes limited but still captivating determination. The truth is that the screenplay of Leave her to Haven offers Gene Tierney much less than what could be expected based on the premise of the part. Ellen Harland may be the movie’s centre and most vigorous character but she only exists on the surface and the role is almost a cliché, created only as a vessel for the movie’s plot and filled with all the expected ingredients – hidden moments of obsession, child-like innocence mixed with murderous energy, a constant change of mood and all the other aspects expected from such a character. Furthermore, the screenplay also never invests any time in the relationship between Ellen and Richard. The idea that Ellen’s obsession comes from Richard’s resemblance to her beloved, idealized father may offer some interesting thoughts but is mostly too flat and stereotypical for any deeper observations. Because of all this, Leave her to Heaven mostly rests on the fascination that it thinks Ellen Harland can evoke in its audience – but this concept only works if the actress actually possesses this fascination. In this aspect, Gene Tierney was certainly the right choice for the role as her unique, fascinating beauty and ability to be so completely engaging from the first moment on helped to make the sudden romance between Ellen and Richard believable and also created the following tone of the story in which Ellen more and more showed her true nature but still possessed enough appeal and charm to keep Richard close to her. But while Gene Tierney certainly made the most of her role, the script unfortunately did not allow her to find more subtle shades in Ellen, give more reason to her love and her obsession beyond the clichés of the script. This is why Ellen Harland, as stated before, is not the typical femme fatale – she does not seem to act out of her own decision but rather seems controlled by her own obsession. The part of Ellen Harland does not allow Gene Tierney the same playfulness and risks as Double Indemnity did Barbara Stanwyck – both had to face the difficulty of portraying characters that had to be strangely unreal in the context of her story but also believably enough to capture the audience’s attention. Both actresses succeeded in this part but Barbara Stanwyck’s Phyllis Dietrichson was still a woman who was very much the master of her own mind and could therefore show a whole amount of subtle hints at the thoughts going on inside her head. Gene Tierney’s Ellen Harland did not give her the same chances because she had to follow a certain formula and could not truly invest in any deeper layers because Ellen only exists as a woman driven by her own madness.

So, Gene Tierney was given the luxury of a scene-stealing and unforgettable part but she was not allowed to act beyond the tight guidelines of the script and had to play a psychopath with all the expected moves and actions. But miraculously, Gene Tierney still came out of this battle victorious since her embodiment of this woman, predictable as it may seem sometimes, works surprisingly well – Ellen may be a predictable character but Gene Tierney knows how to keep her surprising, making Ellen’s desperateness, her constant change of moods, the unfriendliness and hate that becomes more and more apparent with every day she cannot have Richard for herself extremely disturbing and memorable. Right from the start, Gene Tierney knows how to establish Ellen as an unforgettable presence before she even opens her mouth during the first seconds of her appearance thanks to her dark, mysterious beauty which is so immensely helped by the stark colors of the movie. And when she finally does open her mouth, the effect is staggering – instead of a deep and husky voice, Gene Tierney sounds almost like a little girl, saying the words ‘Thank you’ without any hint at a mature, experienced and self-assured beauty. Gene Tierney apparently started smoking to lower the sound of her voice, stating that she sounds like an angry Minnie Mouse but this soft and slightly child-like sound only added to her portrayal of a woman who acts with the determination of a spoiled child. In later scenes, she unfortunately sometimes overdoes the effect of her voice, reducing her lines to a dramatic whisper even when there is no need to do it. But what Gene Tierney does not overdo in those early moments of Leave her to Heaven is the slow process during which Ellen becomes more and more obsessed with Richard – only in small steps she begins to reveal Ellen's true nature. Her remarks how much Richard resembles her father might seem like the sorrow of a devoted daughter, her attempts to prevent Richard’s little brother from living with them already feel rather peculiar (even though Gene Tierney wonderfully displayed a refreshing honesty in Ellen, both in the scenes opposite Danny whom she clearly loves as long he does not come between her and Richard and opposite Danny’s doctor whom she unsuccessfully tries to convince that Danny should not come with them) and finally her open hate opposite her family which is disturbing her quiet life with Richard fully materializes the woman that Ellen truly is.

It’s intriguing that neither Leave her to Heaven nor Gene Tierney really decided on the character of Ellen – Ellen may constantly seem lost but Gene Tierney isn’t, even when she is keepng her character in the dark. Most of all, her Ellen is not a psychopathic mastermind – rather she crafts her as a women who doesn’t know when to stop, who is unable to see the world beyond her obsessive love and is therefore mostly a pitiful creation, dangerous as she may be. She never seems to be truly satisfied about her deeds but doesn’t regret them either. This way, she perfectly manages to make the viewer wonder and shiver at the same time. And when Ellen finally decides for herself to take a tragic step to have Richard all for herself, Gene Tierney creates the most unforgettable scenes of 1945 – when she sits in a little boat, just waiting for ‘her problem to solve itself’, Gene Tierney is able to communicate all of Ellen’s feelings even through a large pair of sunglasses, moving her lips and distorting her lower face without truly moving a single muscle. It’s the wonder of Gene Tierney’s beauty that she is able to look so completely off-putting in this scene, displaying her hate on her face without ever losing her classic elegance. But instead of turning Ellen into a symbol of evil, Gene Tierney more than once finds the child-like innocence in Ellen again, making it visible how desperate, lost and lonely she feels and that she cannot find an escape from her own obsessions. Gene Tierney thankfully doesn’t use these moments to try to evoke sympathy for Ellen or her actions but instead tries to give reason to unreasonable deeds. She even seems to regret her own doings before she started them, trying to convince Richard’s brother to leave them alone and almost showing a feeling of regret when she does not succeed – regret not for herself but even more for him. In the following scenes, Gene Tierney again underlines the child-like nature of Ellen as she is unable to connect to Richard again after what happened – nor can she stop her ever increasing jealously from further alienating herself from everyone around her. Gene Tierney manages to never turn Ellen into the kind of stereotypical villain that deserves the audiences’ hate but rather creates her as a victim of her own obsessions, unable to keep control over herself, acting more out of fear than anything else. But even in the child-like innocence, Gene Tierney also finds an almost shocking amount of truth when she lets Ellen speak so depreciatory about her unborn child. Gene Tierney intensifies both Ellen’s desperation for her own situation and open disdain for everything that is not Richard and constantly lets these emotions clash with each other to further and further destroy the balance in Ellen’s life and mind. The look on her face when she is standing at the top of the staircase is a perfect combination of determination, doubt, hatred, seclusion – and madness.

Overall, Gene Tierney gave a chilling and noteworthy performance that perfectly fulfilled all the tasks of the script even if it sometimes remained too limited. Still, her ability to show Ellen’s slow descent into the darkness of her own mind, her inability to stop her actions to be completely alone with the man she loves and her way of beautifully underplaying all the madness and demons that haunt her results in various unforgettable scenes for which she receives

Best Actress 1945: Greer Garson in "Valley of Decision"

Greer Garson…Greer Garson…Greer Garson…Greer Garson…Greer Garson…She just couldn’t do wrong, could she? In 1946, she received her 6th Best Actress nomination in 7 years which was also her 5th in a row and even more remarkable is the fact that she only made 10 movies in this period. And after that? Where did Greer Garson go? Nowhere, she stayed right where she was and she even became the leading lady of Clark Gable’s first post-war movie but she would not get another Oscar nomination until 1960. It’s actually always interesting to think about why some performer suddenly drops from the Academy’s radar. There are actresses like Susan Hayward or Susan Sarandon who accumulated an impressive number of nominations in a relatively short period of time – and then, after they finally won, disappeared from the nomination lists. It could be a case of ‘She’s taken care of, let’s move on’ but Greer Garson more resembles later actresses like Sissy Spacek or Ellen Burstyn who also received nominations quite regularly and then suddenly dropped from the nomination list for a long time until they received one more nod for a performance that put them back in the spotlight. But for a performer who was not only nominated a lot of times in a short period of time but literally every year, the case of Greer Garson seems to be much more interesting – could it have been a simple case of fatigue, a feeling of a Greer-Garson-overkill? After all, not even her reprise of her Oscar-winning turn as Kay Miniver in The Miniver Story could secure her another nod (but, of course, this sequel received in no way the same amount of attention as its predecessor did). But maybe it was also time for a change. Not only Greer Garson, but also other Oscar-favorites of the early 40s like Bette Davis, Teresa Wright, Ingrid Bergman, Jennifer Jones or Joan Fontaine fell out of the Academy’s sight in the second half of the decade (of course, the extend differed – Ingrid Bergman got one more nod in 1948 but her affair with Roberto Rossellini had already turned her into an outcast by then). The time apparently seemed right for some new blood – Olivia de Havilland dominated this period with her two wins and high quality of roles and performances, Jane Wyman, Loretta Young and Susan Hayward received multiple nods and more new faces appeared when the new decade began. Basically, the taste and appreciation shifted after the war – not only of the Academy but also of the public since Greer Garson’s popularity not only dropped with Academy members but also with the audience. Her kind of ‘women’s picture’ came out of vogue, the appeal of her combination with Walter Pidgeon was over and other actresses became the first choice for roles that she might have gotten a couple of years earlier. So, in some ways, her nod for Valley of Decision is her swan song – yes, she made more movies and got another nomination but it basically was the end of her peak, the end of her prime, the end of her ability to turn everything she did into gold.

Interestingly, by the time that Valley of Decision came around, Greer Garson had basically perfected her own screen persona – the noble, dignified, elegant woman, sometimes shy but confident in the end and always a symbol of style and grace, no matter if she is a British housewife, the American campaigner for children’s rights, a French scientist or an Irish maid. Her movies usually demonstrated how she struggled against various obstacles, may it be a war against Nazi Germany, hidden radioactive elements, the laws of Texas or another woman, only to come out as the winner at the end, always having morals and righteousness on her side. In some ways, all of this could easily have threatened her screen personality and appeal – after all, who wants to see an actress as the same good girl all the time? Actually, Greer Garson’s screen credits during the years 1939-1946 lacked all the appeal and diversity that such a popular actress usually should offer – her roles may have varied on the surface but most of the time presented the same essence. At the same time, Bette Davis found a wide variety of different roles as she played suffering heroines and unforgiving tyrants with the same dedication and precision, never being comfortable with any kind of overall screen personality. Katharine Hepburn may be mostly remembered for her creation of strong, independent women but she still found a wide array of human conditions beyond this and never threatened to just repeat herself. Barbara Stanwyck never allowed herself to be identified with any kind of specific part or role and also other contemporaries of Greer Garson like Olivia de Havilland, Rosalind Russell or Ingrid Bergman found different women, stories and fates in their own acting. Greer Garson, on the other hand, specified herself in a certain niche with a certain style and a certain realization – successfully, obviously. The audience clearly adored Greer Garson and the critics were also on her side. But despite this, Greer Garson’s inability to develop herself or her characters beyond this pure and noble image must have been the main reason for the slow decrease of her popularity after Valley of Decision. But what was it about Greer Garson that made her able to stay at the top for so long despite playing a certain type of character over and over again and often starring in less-than-average pictures? Well, most of all, there was that undeniable amount of charisma and charm – it seems impossible to dislike Greer Garson in any way and few British actresses have been able to be so honestly youthful, charming, appealing and very often heartwarming while also preserving that kind of grace and style that come to them so easily. And all these characteristics obviously helped her to excel in her own comfort zone, filling rather uninteresting parts in often average movies with an undeniable pep and a huge amount of personality. Any actress who turns movies like Madame Curie or Valley of Decision into some of the most popular movies of their respective years cannot be underestimated in terms of star quality. But it seems that the sentimentality of these stories was just what audiences during World War II wanted to see – and stopped wanting to see when the war was over, making it harder for Greer Garson to find the kind of roles that had fitted her so nicely.

Anyway, let’s not forget that Valley of Decision was one of the most popular movies of 1945 – but was this only because of Greer Garson? The movie somehow appears to be a product of a transition period, filled with steel mill workers on strike and class differences – the kind of realism that must have appeared strong and shocking at its time but has lost its effectiveness over the years. What now remains is a mostly disappointing and banal presentation of a certain time and place, wrapped in a sentimental love story, devoid of any true meaning or significance. Still, in 1945 a story likes this surely attracted audiences and Greer Garson only added to the overall appeal – but in some ways, the success of Valley of Decision is probably less a testament to Greer Garson’s popularity but rather to that of rising star Gregory Peck who appeared as Walter Pidgeon alias Paul Scott alias the obligatory man Greer Garson wants to have. Mostly, Greer Garson’s Oscar nominations always came for movies that were either the Greer-Garson-show or also featured some kind of noticeable supporting cast (with the obvious exception being Goodbye, Mr. Chips). Blossoms in the Dust or Madame Curie were basically one-woman shows since Walter Pidgeon’s lifeless and uninspiring performances never had enough strength to make any kind of impact. Mrs. Parkington at least offered a nice turn by Agnes Moorehead and, of course, Mrs. Miniver, had a large and memorable supporting cast. Valley of Decision offers less interesting supporting performances but more interesting supporting actors even if they are not really giving a lot to do. Gladys Cooper, Donald Crisp and Lionel Barrymore are dependable as always and it’s a treat to see Jessica Tandy when she is not…old. So, even if Valley of Decision does not feature a truly gripping story it still manages to be some kind of time capsule that shows some of Hollywood’s most treasured supporting stars and the rise of a future movie star. But what about the leading lady? How can she be remembered in the context of Valley of Decision? This is actually hard to say – the movie is neither the kind of example that would explain her loss of appeal since she plays her part with the same charm and talent as always nor does it present Greer Garson at the peak of her artistry. If anything, Valley of Decision showed that even Greer Garson could not always handle all aspects of roles that seemed to be tailor-made for her – and that apparently even she herself grew tired of playing these kind of characters over and over again.

Greer Garson’s performances worked always more when the sentimentality of the story was not used for sentimentality itself but in the movie’s greater context – Goodbye, Mr. Chips succeeded perfectly in presenting the sentimentality of the story as something worthwhile in itself, as necessary and as part of the overall account of this man’s life. Mrs. Miniver managed to find the brutal honesty of war beyond the sugar-coated image of an ideal England and Blossoms in the Dust showed an important fight of a determined woman hidden underneath a colorful love story. Valley of Decision is not so successful as neither the love story nor the fight of the steel mill workers achieve any kind of impact and the whole story of Mary Rafferty, may it be her relationship to Paul, his family, her father or the people of the town, feels unnecessarily sweetened, even in darker moments and never goes beyond the standard ‘Greer-Garson-movie’ in which she can display poise and elegance, mixed with slight concern. In some ways, Valley of Decision’s Mary Rafferty is a role that offers Greer Garson her usual standard repertoire and also allows her to create the illusion of stretching herself artistically (she plays a maid with an accent!) but the movie puts too many obstacles in her way and while she usually is able to leave a lasting impression thanks to her wonderful on-screen personality, it all unfortunately does not go over so smoothly this time.

The main problem that Greer Garson faces in Valley of Decision is the fact that the character of Mary Rafferty, as tailor-made as she may seem, actually does not feel right for Greer Garson’s repertoire. There is a lot that she does with her material but more than once she feels defeated not only by the script and the direction but also her own inability to craft a real human being out of the writing. Most of all, she faces a problem she is unable to overcome in any way – her age. Many times in movie history, the age of an actor does not harm the performance in any way – Julie Harris certainly never looks like a 12 year old girl in The Member of the Wedding but it somehow never affects her performance. Do Leslie Howard and Norma Shearer look like two teenagers in love in Romeo and Juliet? Certainly not but the problem never becomes too apparent since the love story itself somehow goes beyond the pure matter of age. But in Valley of Decision it is hard to overlook the fact that Greer Garson just seems completely wrong for the part right from the start. Is she an old, insecure maid who tendered her father for her whole life and is now taking the chance to find a new meaning in life or is she supposed to be a young, inexperienced girl, still trying to find herself and her own views? The screenplay suggests the latter, hinting that Mary might get her new position in the Rafferty’s household after a personal recommendation from her school. But 41-year old Greer Garson seems unsure how to establish this character and often seems to switch between these different spectrums, neither doing herself nor the movie any favor. Especially the scenes between Mary and the Rafferty’s daughter Constance show how vaguely the whole character of Mary is presented as Constance constantly changes the way she is talking to her, sometimes treating her as her best friend with whom she can share her secrets and sometimes as a rather motherly figure who looks after her with wisdom and experience. Greer Garson herself does her best to adjust her acting style to the situations needed – there is plausibility in her presentation of Mary’s shyness and uncertainty in specific moments, especially around her disapproving father, but these moments win their strengths from Mary’s inability to cope with the social norms and the clash of her own family and the family she is working for. Other scenes that demand of Greer Garson to create the shyness of Mary out of her character don’t work quite so well – Greer Garson’s own screen personality makes it impossible for her to embody either a young and inexperienced girl or an old, shy maid and so scenes of her being unable to get the attention of her employees when she wants to announce dinner or awkwardly looks for the entrance of the house on her first day are rather comical and misplaced instead of moving or a comment on social differences. Sadly, Greer Garson not only has problems to craft a layer of social awkwardness over her character but also cannot deny the usual intelligence and sophistication that shape her performances. Her confidence in front of the camera always also affects her performances and therefore distracts in scenes with Gladys Cooper since both women appear so self-assured and world wise, much more equal than the script allows, even if Greer Garson tries to achieve exactly the opposite. If the character of Mary had been better constructed and presented by the screenplay, Greer Garson could easily have been much more satisfying but the uncertainty regarding her whole personality made it hard for Greer Garson to fully grasp and construct her.

Obviously, her work with co-star Gregory Peck also suffered from all this – both actors unfortunately failed to create a believable affection between these two characters that are pulled apart by various obstacles. It’s less the age difference but rather the sheer fact both actors seem completely uncomfortable around each other, following the script with looks and gestures that are expected but never feel genuine. Valley of Decision shows a Greer Garson that is not able to fully communicate with her co-stars – except for Lionel Barrymore. Greer Garson feels much more sure of herself whenever she has to portray Mary’s inability to deal with her father’s hatred and disapproval and her understandably shocked reaction after his hateful words when she told him of her future plans is one of her most moving moments. In these scenes, Greer Garson manages to make Mary’s fears and doubts about the future truly captivating, mostly because her acting is much more relaxed in those scenes. But opposite Gladys Cooper, Marsha Hunt or Gregory Peck, Greer Garson does not succeed in the same way since she apparently cannot decide on how to portray Mary in these surroundings, either as a good-natured girl, a self-doubting woman or a helpless child. So, she impresses mostly in scenes that truly focus on her and that don’t depend on any interaction – her scenes with Gregory Peck in which she tells him that she cannot be with him comes quite suddenly, both in the context of the movie but also Greer Garson’s performance because her work, for a few scenes, is perfectly real and engaging, displaying all the sorrow and pain her character is experiencing. And later in the movie, Greer Garson gets to deliver the most captivating and poignant moments of the story when she pleads to keep the steel mines of the town going – her monologue is done without any exaggeration or pressure, rather she keeps Mary’s quietness intact and for the first time truly seems to find a use for Mary’s shyness, turning it around for the sake of a passionate speech but still staying true to the character, displaying a strong yet subtle determination, letting Mary’s words speak for themselves. And Greer Garson also has to be applauded for the way in which she tells Paul’s wife that she has always loved him – again it’s done very quietly but completely determined and therefore extremely memorable, both for the audience and Paul’s wife. Like Ingrid Bergman in The Bells of St. Mary’s, Greer Garson truly saved her performance with her final scenes.

As just mentioned, Greer Garson may not be able to truly connect with her character but she still manages to be sincere in her execution. Taken in the context of the story, she struggles to make Mary Rafferty fully believable but Greer Garson is still able to come across as somehow real and honest. She believable shows Mary’s struggles between her responsibility for her father and her love for Paul without feeling lost or insincere. Somehow, Mary Rafferty is one of her most ‘unlike’ performances and she feels less like Greer Garson than in much of her other work but while such a statement would usually mean high praise since it can only mean that the actress in question moved herself out of her comfort zone, it is rather the opposite in this case since Greer Garson does not fully know how to move outside her comfort zone. Her strong Irish accent somehow helped her to become this insecure and unsure woman, as if the accent was the tool she needed to acquire such characteristics, and she remains consistent during her entire performance – as always, she stays on a certain level in her acting and even if this level had been higher in the past, it still helped her to carry the movie on her shoulders. At the end, Greer Garson was able to show a certain development in Mary and she displayed the strength and assurance that she tried to cover during her entire performance now with full conviction, making these scenes the highlight of her work. Overall, her performance is, no doubt about that, lovely to look at and in the simple context of Valley of Decision, she certainly created some touching and memorable images and moments. But it seems that her talent was simply both too big and too small for movies like this – because on the one hand the role does not offer her anything to truly work with apart from feeling torn apart between different people and groups but at the same time she seems lost with the low quality of her material, unable to rise above it and only able to retreat to her own comfort zone which unfortunately too often contradicted the intentions of the script. On the surface, the role looks like typical Greer Garson and there is still much to admire and at the end of the day her screen presence is still the most noteworthy aspect of the whole movie, no matter if it fits the story or not. But at a closer look, there is little beyond the surface and the strength of a Greer-Garson-performance depends very strongly on the strength of the writing – Kay Miniver or Katherine Chipping were characters that not only benefited from Greer Garson’s talents but also offered her the chance to use the talents in the best way possible for her. But if the writing does not help her, then Greer Garson has little to add herself. Sometimes in Valley of Decision, the writing actually does help her but most of the time it does not.

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