Ruby Gentry

Ruby Gentry Misses the Mark, to Say the Least.

By Kristin Battestella

I like Charlton Heston and I like Karl Malden, and thus I was willing to hold my less than love for Jennifer Jones in check for the 1952 southern melodrama Ruby Gentry. Unfortunately, the clichés and bad acting make this one a not so enjoyable hot mess.

Dr. Jim Gentry’s (Malden) invalid wife Letitia (Josephine Hutchinson) dies and he quickly marries the poor, socially unacceptable Ruby (Jones). Of course, Ruby is in love with Boake (Heston), of the once high and mighty Tackman family. Unfortunately, his family disapproves of Ruby and he must marry rich to save their plantation. Once fate has given Ruby the means to have her cruel way with the townsfolk who previously despised her, however, then not even Boake can stand in her way.

Ruby Gentry starts off on the wrong foot with unnecessary narration, a whole lot of telling instead of showing, and flashbacks that suggest the story told before the movie begins is the one we want to see. These tools and all the repeat dialogue reiterating the social divides and back story seriously slow down the 80 minutes here and confuse the current events. What is the point of this tale and where is it headed? Director King Vidor (The Champ, War and Peace) takes too long to introduce the players and the budding love triangles, yet Ruby Gentry never fully clarifies its outlandish circumstances and incoherent plot. Is this film about Ruby and Boake, Ruby and Jim, or Ruby’s bitchy takeover and lame revenge? As soon as the audience remotely cares about a situation, Ruby Gentry haphazardly moves on to the next soap operatic element. With Jennifer Jones at its fulcrum, Ruby Gentry patterns itself exactly like Vidor and Jones’ Duel in the Sun, right up to its ridiculously similar finale. Personally, I would have much rather seen a film solely about Boake and Jim with an absentee Ruby haunting their antagonism. It doesn’t seem like there would be a lot there, but it has to be better then the feigned tawdry or would be classic comeuppance here. 

Prior to his Ben Hur and The Ten Commandments fame and glory, Charlton Heston was very young, almost too young in Ruby Gentry.  Though not grown up in appearance or southern dictation, Boake is still dangerous to encounter on a dark, swampy night. He’s jonesing for Ruby, but it’s too creepy instead of romantic or scandalous. Chuck Heston knocking on your backwoods bedroom door late at night – it’s played too stalker for the viewer to enjoy this increasingly ridiculous would be couple. We know this relationship won’t end well thanks to this headstrong, cat scratching violence, and the turbulence grows stupid fast.  Boake is smart to not marry the titular crazy. However, after they’ve apparently been getting it on, Ruby Gentry somehow switches to a rapacious buildup before sending the duo hunting together where somebody else shoots at them. I just don’t see the hair brained character motivations here.

Likewise, the young Karl Malden (I Confess, Streets of San Francisco, On the Waterfront) doesn’t have much to do and what Jim Gentry does have is all over the place. The good doctor seems a step above this backwater crowd, yet there’s an amoral touch in his marrying Ruby while his first wife lies barely cold.  Unfortunately, the bizarre narration takes over most of Malden’s action, allowing no room for character development, and ultimately, a barely there presence in the movie. Jim Gentry is hardly seen even liking Ruby, yet he just has to have her so badly.  Why?  Likewise, Barney Phillips (12 O’clock High) as fellow doctor and narrator Manfred is fairly pointless, and Ruby’s creepy guitar playing relation James Anderson (To Kill a Mockingbird) is too dirty and touchy feely. Ironically, Josephine Hutchinson’s (Son of Frankenstein) first Mrs. Gentry is the nicest, classiest character – but she is done away with far too quickly in Ruby Gentry. 

I admit to not being a fan of Jennifer Jones (The Song of Bernadette, Love is a Many Splendored Thing). Film after film, I see her woefully miscast against better leading men, and her Ruby looks and sounds totally out of place against Malden and Heston. Granted, that may have been intentional here. However, her southern accent and immature ways are stereotypical, even offensive. The performance feels very inappropriate, indeed, as if Jones is mocking slow persons and insulting southerners. How old is Ruby supposed to be? To see her knowingly or unknowingly lead men on isn’t alluring in any way.  It’s uncomfortable to watch these backwater men drooling and even feeling up what appears to be a special needs minor. Unfortunately, this aspect fills the majority of Ruby Gentry, and those who were able to get past the Duel in the Sun parallels might be put off by this element.  A more skilled actress could have brought more conflict, sympathy, or even an Oscar worthy performance, but as Ruby grows in her cruelty, Jones becomes more annoying. What exactly is the audience supposed to like about Ruby?  Temptation incarnate and wild or sexy my foot!

Though fitting to the film, the looks old and invoked poor production really feels too backwoods dusty for the audience to enjoy. The southern locales and wildlife scenery are charming, yes, but Ruby Gentry isn’t a colorful, sprawling epic looking the part of the torrid swamp. Cool cars and too little too late upscale dressings and typical fifties finery can’t save the cliché melodrama. The instrumental guitar chords, sweeping music, and onscreen ballads are also misused thanks to some seriously over the top soap opera crescendo cues.  I must say, this exaggerated fail doesn’t even qualify Ruby Gentry for my beloved Hokey Heston category, for it’s neither corny enough nor badly bemusing to enjoy. Once I realized the level of negativity in my composition, I almost didn’t want to finish this review – that’s never happened before!

If you like bad fifties films or need an example of run of the mill mid century melodrama, this is it. Even bad old horror movies can be a lot of fun, but after watching Ruby Gentry again, I seriously wonder why this near pointless excursion was even attempted.  Fans of the cast will especially cringe.

I Confess

I Confess a Lovely Little Murder Mystery Thriller

By Kristin Battestella

I’m not sure why the 1953 Alfred Hitchcock noir treat I Confess seems so unloved. Bias alert! I love Montgomery Clift, I love Alfred Hitchcock, and despite their trouble behind the scenes, this Catholic infused and French flavored thriller feels like a match made in heaven.

Father Michael Logan (Montgomery Clift) is alone in his Quebec City rectory one night and finds handyman Otto Keller (O.E. Hasse) distressed. Father Logan hears Otto’s confession, and it is indeed a confession – to murder. Soon enough, Inspector Larrue (Karl Malden) is investigating the crime, and each clue leads him to suspect Father Logan –who is increasingly wracked with guilt over this truth he cannot reveal as Keller pressures him and further implicates Father Logan to the police.  The distraught priest turns to his pre-war flame Ruth Grandfort (Anne Baxter), but their friendship is more a hindrance than a help for Father Logan. Not only is he a priest, but Ruth is married to a high profile politician. To keep her past romance with Father Logan from becoming public scandal she was being blackmailed – by Keller’s victim.

 

I Confess has a very interesting premise and plot from writers George Tabori (Thunder in the East) and William Archibald’s (The Innocents) adaptation of Paul Anthelme’s original play. The crime preys upon our religious securities and sanctities at a time when the church was absolute- further heavies were excised from the first draft due to the studio’s fifties sensibilities. This is sacred stuff- even a murder heard in confession – and the dark filming, lighting tricks and shadow works, and claustrophobic designs add to the atmospheric dilemma. Director Hitchcock (no reference needed) films in cramped confessional booths with extreme angles and lighting thru gratings and objects. Backs are turned in the frame, faces are hidden, and strategic shadows overwhelm the background. Camera shots on the conflicted Clift are up close, tight, and intense like his inner turmoil or wide extremes of the tiny robed man in the big city or crowd, overwhelmed by the situation. By contrast, Law offices and court proceedings are traditionally shot bright and revealing sequences – each visual is used to reflect the mood at hand perfectly. Flashbacks are used to tell the crime itself or past happiness, and the recountings work because these memories and viewpoints are shaded, distorted, and unreliable testimonials. The audience knows who the killer is, yet the pace, story, and cast deliver the suspense, scandal, blackmail, and twists.  

Considering his Old Hollywood movie star looks, it seems odd to say Montgomery Clift (From Here to Eternity, A Place in the Sun) looks the part of a priest, but his method works are simply on form.  Father Logan is humble in his robes, delicate about setting the alter, and unassuming of all else. Any other day, he seems like he would be a likeable, dutiful, good, believing, and God-fearing man. Clift quickly ingrains this history before the titular confession, pursuit, and lost romance slowly unravels both the man and the priest.  Everything Father Logan is withholding is to help others at the expense of himself; it’s a willingly martyrdom because it is the right, by the rules thing to do, yet Father Logan has been given too much to handle and unwilling carries this secret. He could walk away, make it easy for himself – but he doesn’t. Father Logan’s conviction is both admirable and undoing him. So, let’s add what looks to be an affair on top of that turmoil! Despite my Monty love, I can see how his obsessive not breaking character routine – especially for a character that’s so priestly calm on the outside and boiling inside – would drive Hitchcock insane. However, I must say the behind the scenes antagonism probably added to Clift and his character in knots portrayal. It’s a pity star and director didn’t get along, as I would have liked to see this push and pull collaboration again. I Confess gets more intense as it goes on, and this is one of those films where you find yourself getting closer to the TV and shouting.  Halfway thru I’m always yelling, “Just tell them! Tell! God will forgive you just this one time if you tell!”

Where classic film aficionados may argue for and against Clift and Hitchcock, I think it is universally agreed that Anne Baxter is the weakest point of I Confess. Certainly that old time censorship was already touchy over relations between a married woman and a priest, but Baxter (All About Eve, The Ten Commandments) is too clingy and over the top compared to Clift’s decidedly subdued style. They don’t have a lot of chemistry; in fact, they seem rather awkward – especially when Ruth is adorned with pigtails in the romancey flashback.  Normally I love Baxter in her feisty, sassy, tough roles, but Ruth is too fearful and jittery for someone who is supposed to be an upscale politician’s wife.  She’s made up to look so golden and wholesome, yet Ruth is also portrayed as a scandalous, illicit housewife. Perhaps one woman could be both, but that balance isn’t happening in this love story offshoot.  Of course, if Ruth appeared less, it wouldn’t be so bad, but her narration of said romancey flashback drags down the interrogation in the middle of the film and forces an unnecessary female element into I Confess. The man alone inside/out priest conflicts, O.E. Hasse (Betrayed) and his crazy desperation wild eyes, and Dolly Haas (Broken Blossoms) as Keller’s haggard, fraught wife are far more interesting than any decades old love lost.

Fortunately, Karl Malden (A Streetcar Named Desire, The Streets of San Francisco) as Inspector Larrue proves a worthy chest player for Clift’s Father Logan. Their interrogation scenes are great – what begins as supposedly casual and open, helpful conversations repeatedly wear and rise into angry, difficult, intrusive trial drama.  The viewer dislikes Larrue because he is wrongly pursuing Father Logan.  Yet as fellow puzzle piecing players, we like his rough, go to techniques and want to see him find the truth and catch the real killer. Despite their fundamental impasse, both men do want the same thing.  What first time viewers won’t know is how far Larrue is going to take his incrimination of Father Logan. Technically both sides have every rule abiding reason to take their respective courses of action – but only one can be the victor and justice must be done.

The Quebec City scenery itself also lends unique support to I Confess.  The outdoor filming and lovely church iconography add a distinctly foreign and ecclesiastic flavor, and these elements standout among Hitchcock’s repertoire. Likewise, multiple Hitch composer and Oscar winner Dimitri Tiomkin’s (High Noon) score accents the highs and lows perfectly as the intensity of I Confess escalates. Granted, some of the mid century Canadian legal practices might be confusing to those accustomed to today’s typical and oft seen American law dramas. However, the courtroom elements and any French references don’t hinder the plot at hand. Subtitles are essential to hear some of the soft voices, and the Turner Classic Movies Hitchcock Thrillers Collection DVD set offers a behind the scenes short and vintage newsreel treats.  Of course, I own this set I Confess shares with Suspicion, Strangers on a Train, and The Wrong Man, and yet I can’t help but watch every time it comes on television.  You think you know it by heart and can just casually have it on in the background, but no.  I Confess draws you into its secrets. 

Longtime Hitchcock fans have probably already dissected I Confess, but budding Sir Alfred fans, lovers of mysteries and suspense, fans of the cast, and classic film connoisseurs should definitely give this little conflicted church gem their undivided attention.