Best Actress 1949: Olivia de Havilland in "The Heiress"

When Olivia de Havilland received the second Best Actress Oscar of her career in 1950, the Academy could already look back at a history of 22 years. These years had seen favorites, dark horses, upsets and write-in candidates, likely or expected winners and open races – but Olivia de Havilland’s work in The Heiress had been the first overwhelming frontrunner, the first real ‘lock’ in this category to actually win the award. Of course, others before her had been considered overwhelming frontrunners, too – but their expected wins ultimately turned into some of the biggest upset losses this category had ever seen. Greta Garbo was already a living legend by the time she gave her most lauded performance as a dying courtesan in Camille and was the kind of undeniable star and praised actress that would usually be eagerly embraced by Academy members but they ultimately denied her the award and instead honored Luise Rainer who received her second Best Actress award in a row for her work as a Chinese peasant who has to face famine, revolution and infidelity in The Good Earth. And legend has it that in 1948, Rosalind Russell was already raising from her seat seconds before Frederic March announced the Best Actress winner to collect an award that had been so expected that one newspaper already announced her victory in the headline of their printed edition for the next day – only to learn that Academy members did not feel in the mood for her dramatic performance in the moody tragedy Mourning Becomes Electra and gave their votes to Loretta Young for her charming and light performance in The Farmer’s Daughter instead. Both Rosalind Russell and Greta Garbo were certainly the strongest frontrunners that this category had seen in its existence so far but they both went home empty-handed in the end, learning that frontrunners and favorites are never immune to underdogs. And the other Best Actress winners so far? Was there really not a lock like Olivia de Havilland among them? Cleary the lack of numerous pre-Oscar awards (or any pre-Oscar awards at all), the absence of campaigns and detailed analyses of the races made ‘locks’ highly unlikely in those times anyway but there still haven been favorites and unexpected winners over the years. The first Academy Awards saw Janet Gaynor as the winner who was announced weeks before the actual ceremony – without official nominations it’s hard to say if this decision could be called surprising or expected but her combination of three celebrated performances in popular and critically acclaimed movies certainly gave her a strong edge over the other female contenders that year. Mary Pickford was a likely winner the next year, being one the Academy’s founding members, one of America’s biggest stars and having invited the voting committee to tea and cake but the different circumstances of the voting procedures again make it impossible to call her a lock or a favorite. The same is true for Norma Shearer, Marie Dressler and Helen Hayes the following years who were all likely or obvious winners but still faced a rather open competition. Katharine Hepburn received all four of her Oscars in what could be considered ‘upset wins’ – she wasn’t very popular among the Hollywood community when she won her first award in 1933 and faced strong competition from the leading star of the eventual Best Picture winner Cavalcade and an established veteran in the likeable role of a dedicated mother but her breakthrough year and promising career perspectives still convinced members to give her the award for her aspiring young actress in Morning Glory. The following winner Claudette Colbert could be considered both – an upset and a favorite. She starred not only in the Best Picture winner It happened one Night but in two more Best Picture nominees and was therefore the most noticeable female star of the year, a position which should have made her a likely winner but Bette Davis’s omission for Of Human Bondage and the visible campaign made on her behalf gave her a strong possibility to win based on write-in votes alone. In the end, Bette Davis won the Oscar one year later – sentiment on her side and the uniqueness of her acting style surely turned her into the favorite on Oscar night but it would be overstated to call her a ‘lock’, mostly because Oscar races in those days were still a completely autarkic process that could not be predicted in the same way as they could be in later years. With a New York Film Critics Award and the most talked-about acting scene of the year on her side, Luise Rainer was the favorite to win for The Great Ziegfeld but she was still an outsider and among her competition was Hollywood royalty like Carole Lombard and Norma Shearer. Her second win the next year was, as already mentioned, the biggest upset the category had seen so far, but the second win for Bette Davis the year after was more expected even if her co-nominees like Margaret Sullavan and Wendy Hiller could also count on various passionate supporters. Vivien Leigh’s win as Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind must appear like one of the easiest choices ever in the history of the Academy from a modern perspective but the category in 1939 was actually extremely close, with many commentators predicting a third win for Bette Davis for what was considered the finest achievements of her career so far as a dying young woman in Dark Victory. The following year, the Academy introduced the famous envelopes and began to keep the winners a secret until their names were announced during the ceremony, making the different races more open than ever. Ginger Rogers was a popular winner for her change of image in Kitty Foyle but certainly part of very wide race that included strong competition from Joan Fontaine in the Best Picture winner Rebecca, Katharine Hepburn in her comeback role in The Philadelphia Story and Bette Davis who continued to dominate this category with her performance as murderess Leslie Crosbie in The Letter. The winners during the following years were all likely and expected choices and the Academy Awards began more and more to turn into the race they would be known for from those moments on – but even if Joan Fontaine, Greer Garson, Jennifer Jones and Ingrid Bergman were the predicted winners, none of their wins could be called a ‘lock’, mostly because all those years offered other nominees that could easily have triumphed over those predicted winners and probably nobody would have called it any kind of upset or surprise. In the following years, Joan Crawford and Ingrid Bergman were both considered part of a very close neck-and-neck race that could easily have ended either way and Olivia de Havilland’s first win at the Oscars came over a very even competition Rosalind Russell emerging as her biggest threat during the awards season for her dramatic turn in Sister Kenny. One year later, Loretta Young followed the upset win of Luise Rainer one decade earlier with her own upset win and Jane Wyman won her Oscar in a close race against over-due contenders like Irene Dunne and Barbara Stanwyck and the critically hailed Olivia de Havilland in The Snake Pit. So, most of those races had likely winners that appear like obvious choices but except for two nominees that ended up losing, none of them had the same momentum and dominated her competition like Olivia de Havilland who was not just the only nominee starring in a movie that was also nominated for Best Picture but she also won the most important pre-Oscar awards and most importantly had collected by far the most favorable reviews of the year while her co-nominees were unable to gain the same kind of acknowledgement and excitement – the fact that Olivia de Havilland had established herself as one of the most critically lauded thespians of her generations and was already a strong contender for the win during the previous season for her work as a mentally unstable woman in The Snake Pit was therefore only the final factor that turned her win into a truly foregone conclusion on Oscar night. So everything clearly came together ideally for Olivia de Havilland – but was her win ultimately a result of the favorable surrounding circumstances or was her performance strong enough to also win against a more competitive field that maybe would have included sentimental favorites or other leading ladies who carried a Best Picture nominee?

Throughout her career, Olivia de Havilland constantly showed a strong willingness to not only develop but also challenge herself as an actress, especially during the peak of her career in the second half of the 1940s – but even before that she already knew how to establish her position as a popular star and use this position to display her distinctive talents and versatility as an actress, too. From her debut role in A Midsummer Night’s Dream to her collaborations with Errol Flynn in popular movies like The Adventures of Robin Hood to her first ‘prestige’ pictures like Anthony Adverse, she carefully constructed an undeniable résumé and later showed that her willingness to challenge herself was not only reduced to her roles but also her determination to get them when she personally pleaded to Jack Warner’s wife to be released from her contract to play the most famous role of her career in Gone with the Wind. Later she used her success in the part of Melanie Hamilton to demand stronger and more satisfying roles, taking her position as a star to expand her strength as a character actress. And when her studio would not be willing to let her go at the end of her contract, demanding an additional six months of work for her periods of suspension, she followed the footsteps of Bette Davis and defied the studio system, forever changing the way studios could dominate their contract players in the end. It was a deciding moment not only for Hollywood but also for Olivia de Havilland who gained greater control over her career path and was finally able to demonstrate her abilities as an actress and entered her most fulfilling phase as an actress, winning an Oscar for her work in To Each his Own and stunning audiences and critics with her roles in The Dark Mirror, The Snake Pit and ultimately The Heiress. It’s a transformation that almost resembles her willingness to transform herself on the screen, playing characters from their youth to their days as middle-aged women or shy and repressed girls who turn into bitter avengers and like her Catherine Sloper, Olivia de Havilland discovered the limitations and the trap of her own characteristics and formed a new life for herself, even if for Olivia de Havilland, this transformation was desired and the result of her own efforts. But even if Olivia de Havilland found a chance to develop her own personality on the screen, she constantly used the experience she had gained in the previous years as the solid foundation of her later characteristics – for most of her career, Olivia de Havilland used her own screen presence to emphasize the charm and the ‘niceness’ of her characters, crafting damsels in distress or women who stood as a symbol of goodness against the darker, more brooding characters of the story. She achieved the epitome of these qualities in Gone with the Wind where it was her task to craft Melanie with an almost saint-like personality that would never give in to any darker feelings as the years of war and austerity went on – and Olivia de Havilland fulfilled this almost impossible task without crafting Melanie as a symbol of naivety or denial, instead portraying her as a woman who maybe understands more than anyone around her and is always aware of the actions and intentions of the others but who remains true to her own philosophy of life. With this part, Olivia de Havilland showed that she understood how constant goodness can be a means to an end, how it can be used to achieve a certain goal or even simply shield a broader truth away from one’s own personality – it’s the exploration of an apparently simple character for the sake of a greater truth. Her own screen presence combined with her thoughtful approach to her roles helped her to craft those intriguing human studies without dishonesty or deceitfulness – it’s not hard to imagine Olivia de Havilland in the role of co-nominee Loretta Young in Come to the Stable since Sister Margaret was another woman who used her own modesty and kindness with clear determination but by this point in her career, Olivia de Havilland had already left this concept behind her, clearly proving that her search for more serious and demanding parts was not a hoax. And she used this chance to accept parts that not only asked of her to fill this goodness with an inner life but actually go beyond it and craft various contradicting emotions – her experience that she gained in the early years of her career clearly benefited her later characteristics but the goodness in those roles was not the ultimate goal anymore and instead only the foundation of a deeper and more complex development. This goodness was the basis of a woman whose inability to connect to her own child influenced her whole life, of a woman who appears to have forgotten about this goodness inside her and became mentally unstable and a woman who was destroyed by her own character and finally left this kindness behind her, finding her own voice in a strikingly different manner. It seems an almost logical step that Olivia de Havilland, after having played these kind, polite and gracious characters without too many shades or edges, finally began to explore their darker and deeper sides, often surprising the viewer with her direct approach that contained both mystery and honesty and she used her own talents to combine the technical aspects of her acting with the demanded emotions of her characters to constantly display their inner thoughts, feelings, ideas, fears and hopes. And this combination of technique and emotion also allowed her to craft the development and change of Catherine Sloper with stunning precision and cogency.

British character actress Wendy Hiller was the first performer to bring Catherine Sloper to live on the stage and apparently Olivia de Havilland immediately became interested in the material after she saw the Broadway production with Peggy Ashcroft in the leading role. And it is easy to see how the role of the young, shy and socially awkward woman who suffers from her disapproving father and suddenly finds herself an unexpected object of affection and later turns into a merciless and bitter revenger would appeal to an ambitious performer – but the role not only assuaged the appetite of Olivia de Havilland for great parts but also perfectly fitted her own style and strengths as an actress since it gave her the opportunity to portray the goodness and naivety of Catherine while also displaying her darker sides with a stronger technical approach that balanced the needed emotional intensity with a clear yet arcane approach, resulting in an emotionally devastating but technically fascinating performance. Her Catherine at the beginning of The Heiress is one of those pure and consenting characters that she had played many times before but there is a helpless and withdrawn quality that also separates her from those earlier creations. Catherine is a woman who is unable to overcome her own reclusiveness, who is unable to connect to other people even when she tries since she constantly fails to make others interested in her words, actions and ultimately herself. It’s a portrayal that might have seemed exaggerated very soon especially since Olivia de Havilland herself apparently exaggerated Catherine’s inability to behave the way she would like to but her portrayal benefitted from her focus of Catherine’s unwieldiness on the character of her father – and by giving a clear reason to Catherine’s actions and helplessness, she created an absorbing atmosphere and constantly added new dimensions to the character and the movie itself, positioning herself as its driving force and most complex asset. Her portrayal might appear too technical or calculated at some points but Olivia de Havilland actually displays the behavior and emotions of a woman who has been criticized and put down her whole life – even if she still has hope left inside herself. Dr. Sloper constantly compares Catherine to her late mother, a woman whom he idolized since her death and a day doesn’t go by without him blaming Catherine for her shy appearance, her lack of social skills or her looks – and so Olivia de Havilland’s constant immediate retreat, her way of recognizing her own mistake when her father criticizes her for carrying a fish she just bought inside the house herself or dancing shiftless at a party is much less a woman who cannot live up to her father’s demands but rather a woman who has experienced so many years of criticism and humiliation that she almost automatically acts the ways she does, wanting to show her father that she is herself aware of what she did and tries to please him as much as possible but always feels herself under surveillance, always feels the eyes of her father watching her and has entered a never-ending circle in which she already expects to displease her father before she even acts, consequently retreating more and more into her own shell. It’s a thoughtful and calculated approach but the result is a powerful presentation of a woman who finds herself cornered by her own intentions – even if she could be strikingly different. Olivia de Havilland shows how practical, outspoken and amusing Catherine can be whenever she is alone with her aunt and how she herself if very much aware of her inabilities to act just like her father wants her to – her quick ‘I can’t’ when her aunt asks her to be more social and talk to other people is delivered without any false hope or desperation, but a completely honest look at her own situation that Catherine must have taken many times already. But it is not until Montgomery Clift’s Morris Townsend enters the story that the ambiguity of the main characters becomes truly noticeable. Catherine’s aunt Lavinia is the only simple-minded and straight-forward character of the story, both in the writing and the acting by Miriam Hopkins while the other three main characters all offer different interpretations of their main motives and actions. The sudden interest of Morris in Catherine starts the main action of the story and poses the question if he is truly interested in her or only her money. Dr. Sloper and Morris Townsend portray the two different men in the life of Catherine Sloper – two men who might appear to be the exact opposite of their actual behavior. Dr. Sloper appears cold and distant to the extent of being emotionally abusive but he might love his daughter and actually only have her best interests at heart. Morris Townsend is a loving, gentle and humorous man who wins the heart of Catherine easily and who could give her the kind of emotional support and love that she has missed for so long but be might actually only be interested in her money and her inheritance. Both actors keep these ambiguities of the script alive in their acting and fulfill their parts with the right amount of uncertainty while they fight for control over Catherine’s actions and thoughts. The character of Catherine actually appears to be of a rather passive nature in this structure at first – she is the one who is constantly influenced by others without taking any true action and the screenplay also presents a clear path for her development, focusing on her naivety and helplessness at first and her bitterness and independence later. But Olivia de Havilland, too, created a certain ambiguity in her character, one that might not have been visible in the structure of the script but came to life in her own interpretation – her shyness and insecurity remain a part of her character but she lets Catherine handle Morris’s interests still with much more complexity than the script asked for. Catherine might not know what to say or how to react but she still creates an undeniable charm in Catherine’s awkwardness thanks to her own distinctive screen presence that makes the ultimate question of The Heiress much more difficult than initially expected – does Morris love her or is he only interested in her money? Neither the movie nor any of the actors provide a final answer to this question even if the ideas of the characters are always clear. But beyond this, Olivia de Havilland also denied an answer to the question of just how aware Catherine might actually be – she clearly believes Morris’s words of love but there are small moments in her work during which she makes it seem as if she wants to believe them more than anything else, desperately longing for love and kindness, willing to accept it in any form it may come. Olivia de Havilland finds a tragic and desperate core in Catherine, a childlike innocence that fights for acceptance. The Heiress might be the story of the transformation of a woman but more than that it tells how innocence and kindness can be manipulated and destroyed beyond repair.

It appears that the on-screen chemistry between the three main actors in The Heiress was strongly influenced by their relationships behind the camera – Montgomery Clift apparently kept mostly to himself during the shooting while Ralph Richardson did his best to take attention away from all other actors and neither of the two men apparently thought too highly of Olivia de Havilland’s acting talents. But it all resulted in a captivating triangle in which no character ever seems to truly touch the other – even the relationship between Catherine and Morris is more defined by what is left unspoken rather than by what is said and done and Olivia de Havilland masterfully maneuvers Catherine through this unknown territory, letting her get caught between the two men in her life. There is something completely irresistible about her innocence during her scenes with Montgomery Clift, again letting it appear completely possible for just one moment that he might actually be interested in her or at least as much interested in her as in her money – when Catherine says the words ‘I love you’, Olivia de Havilland beautifully lets Catherine be overwhelmed by her own actions just as much as she is by those of Morris, hiding her face on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness in this moment that has escaped her all her life. It’s a quiet desperation for love that she later reprises when she says goodbye to Morris before going to Europe with her father and a moment that further underlines Catherine’s craving for emotional contacts – Catherine’s aunt later says that even if Morris might only be interested in her money he might still make her very happy nonetheless and Olivia de Havilland shows that maybe Catherine is even thinking of this herself, that she might be not entirely sure of Morris’s intentions either but is willing to accept them simply because the feeling of love and support is too overwhelming for her to ignore or reject. Olivia de Havilland is not afraid to appear desperate or pleading for love even if she seems to believe Morris’s intention. She let her be shivering with insecurity and wide-eyed surprise in one moment and smile brightly in the next – during the run of The Heiress, not only Catherine’s inner character changed but also her way of expressing herself and her face which used to be an open window into her soul turned into an enigmatic mask and that bright, slightly exaggerated smile that so often lightened up her face has gone forever. Furthermore, Olivia de Havilland did not turn Catherine into a woman who suddenly blossomed once Morris entered her life and instead kept that childlike innocence and showed that the only alteration in her character happened towards her father. Olivia de Havilland’s control over her characters is always most visible in such small nuances that slightly change her role with great consequences – the scene in which Catharine openly stands by Morris’s side against her father’s will is a grand decision that Olivia de Havilland portrays with subtle determination. But even then she makes it clear how much Catherine is still trying to please her father, that her marriage to Morris is not something she sees as an escape but rather hopes that the love she thinks both men feel for her will lead them to also accept each other’s presence – until her father finally decides to take one last step to prevent this marriage and openly tells his daughter that there is nothing about her that a man could love except her money. It’s a deciding moment for both The Heiress and its title character and Olivia de Havilland uses the foundations that she laid in her performance so far, especially the fact that all of her insecurities are based on her desperate attempts to please her father, to let her performance turn around completely. It is true that The Heiress doesn’t do its leading lady any favors by demanding this complete turn-around of her character in just a few scenes as Catherine becomes an almost completely different woman after she recognized Morris’s true intentions – it’s a change of character that would easily overstrain most actresses and there is also a high risk of losing the ‘old’ Catherine or letting the ‘new’ Catherine appear like an unbelievable extension of her character. But Olivia de Havilland carefully mastered this task by showing that the realization that her father actually despises her and that there is nothing she can do to ever please him is like a clearance for her character, a catalyst that causes a first discovery of her unforgiveness, of her ability to reject people once she recognized her true intentions – it’s a development that is completed by Morris’s betrayal that same night when Catherine suddenly learns that the two men she trusted absolutely never cared for her, that all the negative words of her father about her were apparently true and that all her years of trying and suffering had been a wasted life. Yes, the transformation might come sudden but Olivia de Havilland gave enough reasons to make it appear entirely believable which is maybe the most important aspect of her entire performance. When she tells Morris that even if her father would change his mind, she would not, Olivia de Havilland already gives a first hint at her new, deeper and unforgiving voice that will dominate the final part of her performance, casting a dark foreshadow on the further development of Catherine and slowly uncovering how the actions of her father and Morris will influence her own behavior from now on – in the acting of Olivia de Havilland, Catherine’s transformation does not appear like something that was put upon her from outside but rather like something that was waiting to happen and she gave logic to an almost illogical development.

Olivia de Havilland’s ability to balance the emotional and technical aspects of her work helps her immensely to keep constant control over her part while letting the pathos and tragedy of the character influence her own decision just as much. She beautifully shows Catherine caught between her sudden and newfound rejection of her father and her desperate attempt to fill this gap with the newfound love for Morris when she meets him outside in the rain, pleading him to marry her as quickly as possible while also carefully informing him of her disengagement from her father and his money. Olivia de Havilland plays this scene with a swift and urgent rhythm that she interrupts herself with a slower tempo, pledging her own love and affection while convincing him to do the same. His assurance that he will pick her up later that night is enough for her to be convinced of his love and loyalty even when she will be disinherited or maybe she convinces herself even more, later telling her aunt that Morris ‘must come’ and take her away, must love her for all those who didn’t. In this scene when Catherine waits for Morris at night only to learn that he will never pick her up, Olivia de Havilland again constantly shows Catherine as a woman who faces one self-realization after another, realizing that her aunt, just like her father, also thinks that Morris is only interested in her money, and she bounces back and forth between the naivety and wide-eyed smile and the resentful, bitter and silent infuriation that shapes her future self. It’s a slow breakdown that not only leads to a single realization but instead leads Catherine to reconsider her whole existence and Olivia de Havilland shows with stunning precision how the pressure of those passing hours slowly destroys the goodness that has dominated her so far. And in her concussive scene when Catherine walks up the stairs to her room, having realized that she has been deserted this night, Olivia de Havilland brilliantly evokes an overwhelming feeling of forlornness as Catherine has not only lost her love but also her only opportunity to leave this house and now has to face her father again – even if she will chose a new roll allocation for their next meeting. For the rest of The Heiress, Olivia de Havilland excels in a technical and controlled display of Catherine who completely changed herself after the humiliations she experienced – Olivia de Havilland plays Catherine with a new voice, a new face and new body language that leave the old, shy and helpless creature behind and gave her a new self-assurance based on her hate and rejection. Again, it would have been easy to disconnect these two parts of Catherine but Olivia de Havilland made this transformation plausible and believable, explaining it with her own acting choices and fulfilling it with her ability to present two polar opposite of the same person. It’s a chilling and breathtaking metamorphosis – Olivia de Havilland’s cold and empty voice, her revengeful but also calculating line delivery are combined with a certain maturity that show that her Catherine has not only experienced humiliation but also learned from it. ‘She has such dignity now’, is how Morris later describes her new personality, a statement that might be more accurate than he thinks. Olivia de Havilland lets Catherine’s newfound rejection towards her father result in a fast eruption of accusations and anger, forever breaking the bond with him and her old life – and those moments are a true masterpiece of coldness and Olivia de Havilland uses every chance the screenplay gives her to distance Catherine further and further away from her former self. But she also finds some remaining traces of that gentle and kind woman she used to be – when Catherine hears Morris’s voice again, Olivia de Havilland’s face suddenly softens and almost completely transforms her own appearance before it hardens again, reminding the viewer and herself that her days of believing and loving Morris are gone forever. And Olivia de Havilland also masterfully builds Catherine’s final revenge, teasing, manipulating, offending, rejecting and accepting Morris during their conversation, playing with him with strong self-assurance before she tells her aunt that she can be very cruel since he had been taught by masters – it’s a moment that Olivia de Havilland doesn’t play with bitterness or emptiness but actually a slight smile that seems to indicate that in this one moment Catherine is actually resembling her own father and his determination, proving that The Heiress does not only refer to her inheritance of her father’s fortune but also his character and personality, getting much closer to him despite having rejected him so strongly. But she then made the startling choice to let Catherine’s final walk up the stairs not be a lonely moment of triumph but instead shows that she might actually fear this moment, questioning her own decisions, recognizing that this chapter of her life has now been closed forever, wondering if anything in her life will ever replace this emptiness. Olivia de Havilland plays her moments of revenge with just as much self-doubt as pleasure and she keeps her future just as open as her whole relationship with Morris had been an unsolved secret.

The role of Catherine Sloper is certainly a thankful one that gives an actress many possibilities to run a vast amount of different emotions until the complete transformation at the end. But all those possibilities also provide many traps, even for the most experienced actresses, but Olivia de Havilland not only avoided any failure in this part, she actively exceeded her accomplishments by exploring the different aspects and motivations of Catherine Sloper and filling them with logic and reason. It’s a performance that combines emotional honesty with technical perfection and Olivia de Havilland is in constant control of every situation the script finds Catherine in – she can crumble emotionally when her father indirectly insults her looks in a new dress, she can give in to Morris’s affection in the early scenes just as easily as she can reject them later and she constantly sets the tone and atmosphere of the film itself. After The Heiress, Olivia de Havilland did not deliver any more performances that gained her recognition from the Academy and the quality of her future roles did also not reflect her dominance over the second half of the 1940s anymore – so maybe The Heiress was not only a peak but also the final peak for her career. But it is a performance that deserves to be called the highlight of Olivia de Havilland’s résumé – her Melanie might have immortalized her personality but her Catherine Sloper immortalized her talents. Yes, the stars all aligned perfectly for her win but her performance did not benefit from this since it is an achievement that could just as easily have won over a stronger competition. In the end, it’s an outstanding portrayal of desperation, hope, regret, hate and fear that stands among the finest this category has ever seen.

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 have ignored otherwise. 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 appears to be 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 for the Oscar trophy but the appearance of Audrey Hepburn on the international movie scene with her praised and award-winning first major film performance as a lugubrious princess in Roman Holiday made a win for her out of the question rather quickly. Besides this, Deborah Kerr's 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 her 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 Award 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 which was caused by her extramartial affair with director Roberto Rossellini. Of course, it’s impossible to say how the race would have turned out without Ingrid Bergman in the running 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 previously 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 who was haunted by 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 overall but also 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 out 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. But her maybe biggest misfortune at the Oscars was most likely 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 in My Foolish Heart and Deborah Kerr’s Evelyn from a supportive wife to a desperate and lonely shell of her former self in Edward, my Son. 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 than one life 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 father but 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 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 she 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. The next appearence of Evelyn might be titled ‘suffering mother’ as she 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 in certain moments but she still always adds the necessary amount of gravitas and pathos to her scenes 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 to teach him the importance of earning money himself and living a life away from prosperity and bravado 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 not 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"

The Best Actress category of 1949 appeared to have all the ingredients to become a perfect copy of the previous race in 1947 – both years featured an overwhelming frontrunner in a praised and award-winning dramatic performance that received accolades from critics and industry insiders and was sure to win the Oscar without any serious threat from the four remaining nominees who both times included rising star Susan Hayward, twice nominated as a woman facing the consequences of her alcoholism as she looks at the ruins of her own life and popular, endearing leading lady Loretta Young who received her two career nominations for light and charming performances in crowd-pleasing dramadies, one time as a housemaid running for congress and later as a nun determined to build a children’s hospital in New England. But the main difference between these two occasions was the fact that in 1950, Oscar favorite Olivia de Havilland did indeed and expectedly win the award over Susan Hayward, Loretta Young, Jeanne Crain and Deborah Kerr for her acclaimed performance as a shy young girl who experiences rejection and betrayal in director William Wyler’s The Heiress, becoming the first overwhelming frontrunner in the Best Actress category to actually win the Oscar in the end – contrary, the year 1948 saw one of the biggest upsets ever in Oscar history when Rosalind Russell’s work as Lavinia in the movie adaptation of Eugene O’Neill’s Mourning Becomes Electra lost the Best Actress Award to Loretta Young for her performance as Katie Holstrom in The Farmer’s Daughter. So, both years had many of the same premises but saw strikingly different results – and a loss for Olivia de Havilland might have been an even bigger upset than the past loss of Rosalind Russell who maybe received strong praise for her performance in Mourning Becomes Electra but the movie itself was met with little critical acclaim and, as legend has it, even made the head of her PR campaign fall asleep during a screening, while The Heiress, despite disappointing box office results, was one of the most acclaimed movies of the year and one of the five contenders for the Best Picture Award. And furthermore Rosalind Russell hadn’t established herself as the same kind of admired and respected thespian like Olivia de Havilland even if she was among the biggest stars in Hollywood and constantly made a smooth transition between drama and comedy, finding success in both genres quite easily – but Olivia de Havilland received an undeniable amount of appreciation from critics and the Academy for her change from admired movie star to respected character actress and her willingness to constantly challenge herself as an artist during the second half of the decade, making an upset win by Susan Hayward, Deborah Kerr or Jean Crain even more unlikely. And just as unlikely must have been another upset win for Loretta Young – after her Oscar for The Farmer’s Daughter, she found herself again nodded for a similarly innocent and reserved role, showing that Academy members clearly responded to this phase and these parts of her career but a second Oscar in three years appeared rather improbable, not only because of Olivia de Havilland’s dominance in the race but also because Come to the Stable is an even less likely ‘Oscar movie’ than the already harmless and very often rather unaspiring The Farmer’s Daughter, even if this story of two nuns who collect money to build a children’s hospital was among the most-nominated movies of 1949, proving that Oscar voters obviously reacted very well to the positive message and sentimentality of the plot which tells how never-ending faith, honest decency and goodness can create little miracles and help those around to find a new and deeper meaning in life. But Katie Holstrom, despite the guileless and simple execution of The Farmer’s Daughter, gave Loretta Young a character that maybe lacked complexity and depth but still remained the sole focus of the picture’s attention, allowing her to charm and beguile audiences and she took full advantage of her frank nature and combined it with a sparkling personality and an amusing accent that enabled her to turn the role into a characteristic ‘star vehicle’ that lived from the mild comedy and an engaging love story, making it easy for audiences to appreciate Loretta Young both as a star and a lightweight comedienne and character actress. In contrast, the role of the dedicated and more serious Sister Margaret in Come to the Stable asked for a much more straightforward approach, both in context of the story but also in Loretta Young’s demands towards her own performance to carry the picture without taking away from the overall storyline – Loretta Young was among the most famous members 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 and considering the rare opportunity to find a role that so wholeheartedly embraces personal faith, it is likely to imagine that Loretta Young’s inner beliefs also influenced her work and her approach to the role. But even if Loretta Young did not win another Oscar for her work in Come to the Stable, the project itself and the character of Sister Margaret were most likely much closer to her heart than Katie Holstrom and The Farmer’s Daughter, giving her the chance to realize her religious feelings on the screen and presenting audiences with a warm and touching story that embraced the idea of Christian virtues and its power to change the world for the better. Come to the Stable must therefore have been a true ‘passion project’ for Loretta Young – but one that lived from its simplicity, modesty and her own willingness to play a role that offers no vanity or artistic challenges as the movie never turns into an actor’s showcase since the characters are always of secondary importance to the mawkishness of the plot and its uplifting message. And so Come to the Stable became a passion project without being a star vehicle, asking Loretta Young to reduce her own star presence for the sake of her character’s humility and devotion, letting her carry the significance of goodness and decency without actively asking her to shape a three-dimensional person underneath the habit – it was a task that came certainly easy to Loretta Young and she implemented her part with the right style and tone but Sister Margaret was still a part that put its limitations too visibly and strongly on her performance. But even if the role did not allow Loretta Young a precise characterization, she still found some room to add a spark of personality and individuality, avoiding the risk to become a mere symbol of Christianity and successfully combined her star qualities with the demands of the script, giving a performance that fulfilled the task of existing behind the overall storyline but also realized that its sentimentality and positivity still depended on the cast to be brought to live and be filled with reason and character.

While the tone and style of Come to the Stable may have been created in regards to a serious topic, the movie itself still aimed for a lighter approach, trying to achieve a goal that would be described as ‘heartwarming’ and ‘enchanting’ and balancing an honest earnestness with a facetious overtone – an execution that was not only realized by the screenplay and the direction but especially by the cast which had to craft these different aspects and circumstances into the presented characters and performances, balancing a light playfulness, a slight touch of humor with a visible seriousness and dedication. Considering Loretta Young’s own dedication to the Christian faith, it is not surprising that her Sister Margaret stood for a more serious and thoughtful approach, one that moves the story along and fills it with the necessary solemnity and determination while her co-star Celeste Holm provided the lighter, more humorous moments of the story as her companion Sister Scholastica, a nun who is characterized by the same amount of faith and goodness but lacks the same determination and experience, following Sister Margaret in her quest and often adding unexpected wit with her naivety and frankness. These separate additions that both actresses provided to the story further underlined the contrariness of a movie that did not give its actors any complex or profound material, often asking them to reduce their own presence to the point of becoming a vessel for the story’s own intentions while depending on the commitment of these actors to carry its message nonetheless and work in harmony with its own modesty and simplicity to insert a variety of distinct personalities into the happenings. This already indicates that Loretta Young could not rest on her star appeal in the role of Sister Margaret and that she was also not offered any kind of challenging material that would have asked her to add unexpected layers to a rather flat character but as the story’s main link between its different principles, she nonetheless needed to find the right rhythm and tonality in her performance that would give the picture a grounded sense of reality but would also leave room for a more fairytale-like interpretation, using the simplicity of her role to give a performance that subtly suggested and hinted at something more beneath the surface and to inject her character not only with the message of the screenplay but a life of its own. It’s a task that did not find its solution in a multifaceted portrayal but rather in a straightforward presentation of goodness and gentleness as Loretta Young’s work left little doubt about the honesty of Sister Margaret’s intentions and the seriousness of her ambitions – and while Loretta Young put those limitations in the context of the story, moving the character within the boundaries of the screenplay and giving it the needed sincerity to support Come to the Stable in its aims to both entertain and move the audience with its edifying structure, the overall result was nonetheless a performance with clear limitations and an often distinct superficiality since carrying a picture with a role that only exists in connection with a constant focus on an undying goodness is a task that can easily create a sense of repetition and unimaginativeness. Loretta Young might sometimes have 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 and presents a constant array of different obstacles and challenges that need her guidance and consideration, giving both Sister Margaret and Loretta Young the chance to find new or maybe even unexpected sides in themselves 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 therefore never offers obstacles that truly endanger the mission of Sister Margaret or finds her doubting her own abilities but rather only presents contemporary setbacks, always maintaining the sentimentality of the story and never trying to add a darker or more demanding angle to the proceedings as all outcomes and twists are already expected long before they happen and Come to the Stable very often becomes more noteworthy for its parts instead of its whole, letting single moments become more engaging for small incidents within instead for their results as even the task of getting land for the hospital from what appears to be well-known criminal is only a matter of minutes for these two persistent nuns. Come to the Stable obviously never intended to challenge itself or the audience, providing light entertainment instead of deeper social questions or a closer look at the different roles of religion in the life of its various characters – this also signifies that all actors in the picture suffered from the thin writing and the underdeveloped templates they are asked to play but Loretta Young is actually the cast member who faced the most severe problems in this aspect as the presence of her co-star Celeste Holm but also Elsa Lanchaster, as a slightly confused but goodhearted painter of religious pictures, is primarily needed to contribute a charming and comedic touch to Come to the Stable, an exercise they both fulfilled adequately and with the required facileness but this ultimately shows that their performances are mostly defined by being a counterbalance to Loretta Young and their restrained and secondary parts also allowed them to stay more decisively within the frames of the script since they mostly added to the story without having to carry it. Loretta Young, on the other hand, needed to be the more plausible character, the one who drives all events and therefore had to shape Come to the Stable with a balance of sentimentality and realism, focusing more strongly on the serious moments of the script – and all this while actually starring in a movie that is not truly offering such moments since Sister Margaret’s fight for the hospital is always done in the most harmless but also heartwarming way, resulting in moments of quiet desperation that never feel as grand as they would like to be. All this unfortunately leaves Loretta Young with little else to do than present the aforementioned display of goodness and warmth without any shades or any look at the inner personality of Sister Margaret. And this thinness of the central part makes Loretta Young’s performance also one of the most peculiar in the history of 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 at the same time be criticized for doing nothing at all – and both statements are true. The role of Sister Margaret is indeed almost completely empty – but thankfully Loretta Young’s performance isn’t and like Come to the Stable itself, it is more noteworthy for smaller details than its entirety. Her performance undoubtedly 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, willing to accept all limitations for the sake of the greater theme – which was certainly a noble choice, further underlining the importance of this passion project for her own beliefs, but consequently also denied her the possibility to give a truly multidimensional piece of work.

As mentioned above, the performance of Loretta Young in Come to the Stable mostly impresses with its attention to detail and her ability to find small suggestions at the inner core of a character that was written without any depth at all. Such small moments show that Loretta Young was always in full control of Sister Margaret and understood that the story’s aim to entertain rested on Celeste Holm’s charm and lightweight acting style while its credibility depended on her own ability to bring a certain level of deeper understanding to her role and let her appear not only optimistic and faithful but also give her a sense of pragmatism and everyday capabilities. She is not only the main force who pushes the story forward but also a woman who is much more aware of the world than initially expected, who naturally takes charge and to whom others often 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 even if both women might be equal in their faith and their human spirits – but the acting of Celeste Holm and the presentation of her character nonetheless supported Loretta Young in her own work thanks to the creation of an entertaining and charming contrast, showing how both actresses carefully constructed their work in relation to each other. Loretta Young maybe suffered from the fact that her performance, more than all the others in the picture, had nowhere to go but 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. It's a natural friendliness and honesty that was eagerly embraced by Academy members – 30 years had passed between her film debut and her first Oscar nomination for The Farmer's Daughter, making it seem that Oscar voters did not pay attention to her work in comedies of the sexes, romances or dramas but waited until Loretta Young re-invented her personality and turned herself into a symbol of decent wholesomeness in the later parts of her career. Her Katie Holstrom displayed strong inner beliefs despite a certain naivety while her Sister Margaret is much more worldly-wise, despite the contrary ideas of those around her, but both women always believed in a greater good and the general benevolence and kindness of people that needed to be supported against darker influences. In the case of Sister Margaret, this display faced a much stronger danger of becoming repetitive very soon since the character had significantly less personality than her Katie who was not only following a single goal but still had to find her place in society but Come to the Stable was smart enough to let the two central characters constantly counterbalance each other for the sake of the overall story arc – both Loretta Young and Celeste Holm faced limited characters but the combination of humor and sincerity made it possible to let both parts appear more dimensional than they really are and the chemistry between both actresses helped to underline the friendship and respect that these two Sisters share while letting the different aspects of their work intertwine in effective harmony as the humor of Celeste Holm lets Loretta Young appear less straightforward and limited while the seriousness of Loretta Young gives Celeste Holm's performance more maturity and sincerity than the role itself intended to. It's an effect that both actresses wisely used to their own advantages and that helped to keep the viewer's interest in these two characters alive throughout the story and gave Loretta Young the chance to demonstrate 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 in the process and there are little scenes during which she is able to emphasize the character of Sister Margaret a little more than the script actually asked her to. It is certainly easy to overrate Loretta Young's work whenever it finds any chances to suggest 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 and Loretta Young was also not able to insert Sister Margaret with a true inner depth or an identity of her own – but what she did was still crafting her as a believable and strangely complete character who maybe only exists for a single purpose but her performance and strong personality made it appear that there could be many untold stories about Sister Margaret even if the picture decided not to tell them this time. When she informs 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 and social competence. Obviously it is rather likely that many other actress would have realized the same kind of small successes in this role, too, but Loretta Young’s strong screen personality, even if it was not permitted to truly shine, still added a special aura and sincerity to Sister Margaret since her personal connection to the part most likely caused an even more precise consideration of the role and its characteristics. And so it is not surprising that her most memorable moment on the screen comes when this honest concern and thoughtfulness 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 also not trying to add even more pathos to the moment. But while Loretta Young occasionally found a beautiful immediacy in her character, she let various moments that would have allowed a more personal realization quietly gone by, again underlining her determination to carry the sentimentality of the story without adding any complexity but a deeper look at her character would have been possible during certain moments, even within the thin writing, and would have opened her interpretation without throwing the movie off-balance – when Sister Margaret begins to reveal her reasons for her determination to build a hospital and talks about her experiences in Normandy during the war when the hospital in which she worked was close to being destroyed during a military attack, Loretta Young wisely avoided any sentimentality, reminiscing about this time in a way that emphasizes her positive outlook on life as she only wants to remember the positive events she experienced but also does not want to burden Ms. Potts with her personal backstory, further underlining the lack of darker aspects within the story, but with this approach Loretta Young also avoided all possibilities that could have shown how this time shaped and influenced her character, how she truly feels about these memories and what they ultimately mean for her apart from her desire to thank God by coming to America and build a hospital herself. A later scene repeats Loretta Young’s neglect of a more widened look at her own part when Sister Margaret learns from Mr. Mason, a musician next door, that he knows the city in Normandy where Sister Margaret used to work, and she only replies with a bright ‘Oh, how nice’ – Loretta Young may be 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 at this deciding moment. So while Loretta Young deserves a certain recognition for letting the kindness and gentleness of Sister Margaret dominate her performance without overbearing it, she also missed the chances to inject more shades into this character – as small as these chances might have been.

Overall, Loretta Young’s performance serves the movie well by never contradicting its intentions and it is also noteworthy that she is not only believable as a women of kindness and decency but also as a nun – scenes of her praying or praising God seem to flow naturally from her body and her spirit and demonstrate the closeness between herself and her character as well as her personal belief in the production and its wider theme. But even if Loretta Young made many right or sometimes even intelligent choices in her performance, the role of Sister Margaret never allowed a multilayered approach – and Come to the Stable also did not need it, only existing on a carefully defined surface without any deeper emotions. Therefore, Loretta Young clearly understood her material and the simplicity of her work is beautiful to look at but her work is nevertheless often shockingly empty even if it provides occasional moments of grace and love. In the end, Loretta Young’s distinctive screen presence and her ability to radiate warmth and kindness leave a maybe not lasting but often satisfying impression that never symbolizes an outstanding artistic achievement but fulfills its overall goals nonetheless.

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

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 - The 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