Mrs. Miniver

Mrs. Miniver Tugs Your Heart Strings with the Best of Them

By Kristin Battestella

My Dad swears by Greer Garson, and thus he adores the 1942 William Wyler gem Mrs. Miniver. Despite my bend to the classics, I had actually never seen Mrs. Miniver or anything with Greer Garson in it! After years of Dad bugging me about this error, I finally sat down for a night with the Mrs. Well, Shame on me for waiting so long!

Mrs. Kay Miniver (Garson) and her husband Clem (Walter Pidgeon) nonchalantly worry about the little extravagances-like an expensive hat or a new car. Eldest son Vin (Richard Ney) returns from college to romance Lady Beldon’s (May Whitty) granddaughter Carol (Teresa Wright). Little Toby (Christopher Severn) and Judy Miniver (Clare Sandars) are just peachy, too. Unfortunately, when the Vicar (Henry Wilcoxon) reads England’s declaration of war against Germany, the blissful lives of the Minivers are changed forever.

More and more, I’m having trouble with these summaries and revealing plot information in my reviews. Some films you just have to go into cold, and Mrs. Miniver is one of them. I knew next to nothing about the film when I settled in, and William Wyler’s (Ben-Hur, Best Years of Our Lives, Friendly Persuasion) touching wartime piece is better this way. Yes, columnist Jan Struther’s book of essays written as the fictional persona Mrs. Miniver was adapted to the screen for wartime propaganda more than anything else. Like Thomas Paine, however, the subtle example of the stalwart civilian at home never gets old and always puts even the toughest viewer in tears- or even helps President Roosevelt weigh in on America’s eventually joining the war. Mrs. Miniver begins somewhat snotty, with uber wealthy but charming British folks debating their indulgences and the aristocratic merits of the yearly flower show. By the end of the film, however, we learn the value of the kindhearted neighbor, the stalwart vicar, the weight of the civilian life at home, and the power of the flower show that must go on.

I’ve heard comparisons between Greer Garson (Madame Curie, Goodbye Mr. Chips) and fellow English redhead Deborah Kerr. Now, not only do I not like Deborah Kerr, but I can see Garson has it all over her! Despite the luxuries, we like the titular Mrs. Miniver from the start. Garson’s pairing with Walter Pidgeon (also Madame Curie and That Fortsyte Woman with Garson) is wonderfully real and intimate. Their kindness to the less fortunate and wit against the snotty nobility is great fun to watch. Though we don’t know what the Mrs. did or didn’t do before that war that she needs all kinds of help about the house, the change in the idyllic sentiments is immediately shown. As the war sets in, Garson expertly handles the agony of the waiting parent at home. She knows what enlistments, letters from the front, and the phone calls at 2 a.m. really mean- but no one wants to admit these fears to themselves or the family. Garson owns a simple but beautiful scene of listening for the sputtering engine signal from her son flying his plane overhead. Forget all the special effects, there’s nothing a human responds to more than seeing another human run the emotional gauntlet. If Greer Garson never made another film after Mrs. Miniver, her place in the classics still would have been sealed by her Oscar win here.

Now then, you must allow me one complaint about Mrs. Miniver. Why in these old films are there always such weird ages for the kids? The older husband and pretty wife always have an older teen or college child, then a hip ten or twelve year old, followed by someone five or under. Is that eight years between pregnancies- it’s a little unrealistic, isn’t it? The interchangeable kids are a little annoying but also understandably innocent, asking the questions the adults can’t or won’t. The young and in love Richard Ney (Joan of Arc, The Fan) and Teresa Wright (Pride of the Yankees, Best Years of Our Lives) are in such a rush thanks to the war. However, the silent, quiet looks and tight, multi-layered Oscar winning script from James Hilton (Foreign Correspondent, Lost Horizon), Arthur Wimperis George Froeschel, and Claudine West (Random Harvest, The White Cliffs of Dover) do more than modern snogging-before-you-go ever could. Again, the age disparity between Ney and real life future wife Garson hinders him a bit, but the always wholesome and charming Wright is wonderful as Garson’s understudy and the second Mrs. Miniver. In some scenes, you even wonder which Mrs. is meant to be the titular lady. Wright’s Oscar winning warmth and melting of fellow Best Supporting Actress nominee Dame May Whitty (Night Must Fall, The Lady Vanishes, Suspicion) represents all the youthful hopes for the idealistic end to the war.

We don’t see as much of Walter Pidgeon as I might have liked, but his dutiful dad is delightful, as is Henry Travers’ (that’s Clarence from It’s A Wonderful Life) elder innocence over his Mrs. Miniver rose. These seemingly trivial things come to represent how critical the civilian part at home is in Mrs. Miniver. The waiting agony all around is done quietly or in clipped dialogue. There’s actually little music here, no overdone orchestrations to build suspense. Mrs. Miniver capitalizes on fine silent interplay- as in Kay’s encounter with a crashed German soldier. Helmut Dantine’s (Casablanca, Northern Pursuit) enemy pilot is a little stereotypical; but his and Garson’s examination of fear, wanting to help the wounded, and foreign capture keeps your eyes glued to the screen.

One strike against Mrs. Miniver is unfortunately the black and white photography. The music knows when to be still, yes, but the civilian sea action at Dunkirk is tough to see-and perhaps for those who don’t know the history, tough to grasp the scope of the evacuation. Thankfully, the Starlings house puts things in perspective for the viewer. At first, we might not notice the fancy pieces of the Miniver home. As the film progresses, however, we see subtle changes about the house-it’s less stylized, not as fancily dressed, understandably war torn as time goes on. By time we get to the Miniver’s bomb shelter, the war at home mood is definitely secured. Likewise, the snotty nobility is whittled down from their posh church boxes into do their wartime parts and sacrifices. Though not super-thoroughly British, Mrs. Miniver sets the tone for war-time London with talk of the Thames, aristocracy, and hints of accents. We have a stereotypically hysterical and chubby hackneyed cook Ada (Marie De Becker, Random Harvest) and a typical thin and mousy, aloof maid Gladys (Brenda Forbes, The White Cliffs of Dover); but I enjoyed the time capsule of forties filmmaking and lifestyles. Our devoted couples all have separate beds, the milkman makes his morning house call, gentleman stand when a lady enters and exits, and shocker of shockers it’s polite to offer a cigarette to someone! There’s something enchanting about these old-fashioned manners, perhaps simply because they are old and even a little out of touch with how supposedly lower class but realistic people behave. Who still wears hats and stakes their yearly comeuppance on a rose competition, really? By contrast, the onscreen simplicity of Mrs. Miniver is dynamite compared to today’s oversaturated pictures. There’s a lot less over acting here than typical of the day, and the shrill pitch of falling bombs and exploding shells are all the music that’s needed. The relatable fears of light during a black out and air raids are always relevant. The audiences today who know their World War II theater are perhaps doubly moved knowing the final devastation this war brought. The Minivers reliance on radio for news of the outside world also makes today’s viewers feel even more helpless, for we wouldn’t know what to do without our lit up electronics!

Mrs. Miniver had a serious political impact in its day, but I’m afraid this picture doesn’t get its due respect today. I read comparisons to The Best Years of Our Lives online, but I think the two are companion pieces-one dealing with the war at home during, the other the post-war difficulties after. Either way, the sentiments here never grow old. If Mrs. Miniver were made today, I have no doubt those fans of the big action war pictures would love it. However, I don’t know that casual audiences or non-classic fans can fully appreciate this film. Can a book or movie such as Mrs. Miniver do today what it did then-can any book or movie have the power to change the world in this day and age? Was it merely the humongous stakes and necessities of World War II that brought about such influential film and literature, or do we have no great cause or too many little causes in today’s generation and too much media distractions for a powerful story to take the world by storm? Mrs. Miniver is successful in its quietest, simplest moments. Four people sequestered into a tiny bomb shelter, the cat sleeping under the makeshift beds while Kay knits and Clem smokes a pipe. How accustom to raid living they’ve become; yet the adults still flinch, even reading Alice in Wonderland to each other. By time we’re down to the concluding sequences with the two trapped Mrs. Minivers, well all I can say is Wow!

Yes, I’m late in realizing it, but Mrs. Miniver deserves its place among the classics and great war films. Super young audiences might be scared by all the bombing sounds and seriously tense scenes, but older students and teachers can enjoy a classroom viewing. War buff families can also take in a viewing with the DVD. Begin your classic viewing experience tonight with the Mrs.

The Best Years of Our Lives

Best Years of Our Lives Still One of The Best

By Kristin Battestella

I consider myself a serious classic movie buff. Friends can’t understand my affinity for black and white pictures-my husband hates them! After this renown for such classics, my father was miffed that I had missed one of the greatest films of all time: The Best Years of Our Lives.

Now certainly I’d heard of William Wyler’s haunting classic about a trio of soldiers adjusting to life in post World War II America. I love Wyler’s previous works- The Big Country, The Depsperate Hours, The Heiress, and of course Ben-Hur. I’m also fan of war movies- The Longest Day, From Here To Eternity, Mr. Roberts-even Wyler’s own The Memphis Belle: A Story of a Flying Fortress. The stars, however, seemed lined against me and this film (and The Sand Pebbles for some reason. I can’t catch that one, either.) Every time The Best Years of Our Lives was slated on television I missed it. Until at last, this summer the stars realigned!

PBS. No power outages, no place to be but before the tele with my dad. A blank tape was in the VCR, too. I was taking no chances for this momentous occasion. Only twice before have I taped a movie without having seen it, and both films I now absolutely adore-Laura and Rebecca.

Speaking of Laura, I was confused at first by its stars Gene Tierney and Dana Andrews-I thought Dana was Laura! No mistaking it here- Dana Andrews, Fredric March and Harold Russell are the triple focus of Best Picture winner The Best Years of Our Lives. The three neighbors meet by chance while returning home from Europe after the war. Former uppity banker Al Stephenson has to adjust to the poor life with his wife Milly (Myrna Loy) and daughter Peggy (Teresa Wright) while decorated Captain Fred Derry (Andrews) has no opportunity on the home front- he returns to his previous job as a soda jerk. His wife (Virginia Mayo) can’t get used to him out of uniform, and the quickie marriage falls apart. By contrast Homer Parrish (Russell) would seem to have it all. He returns to his family home and the perfect girl who loves him-but he wavers between happiness and despair while he and his family come to terms with the loss of not one, but both of his hands.

Unlike pro war movies made during the battles-everyone’s a hero, evil is defeated, the good guys always get the girl- The Best Years of Our Lives sheds light on the plight of the soldiers’ return. Indeed it is not all parades and parties and everything one desires on a silver platter. How can a man who’s gone for five years and taught to kill or drops bombs be expected to fit into civilian society? How does society deal with the influx of such thousands? Work, housing, money, relationships, these aspects and more all have a serious statement to make in The Best Years of Our Lives.

Strange that The Best Years of Our Lives hits the nail on the head with the post World War II troubles, but what saddens me the most is that we seemed to have learned nothing since this 1946 release. When a simple soldier comes to Al’s bank for a loan with no collateral, home, or money but a dream of a farm of his own-banking wise, he should be denied. When Al gives him the loan, I cried. I cried because we are still dealing with the mistreatment of veterans in this country.

Google it and you’ll see all the statistics about American veterans in the 21^st Century. One in four veterans is homeless, and one million are uninsured and ineligible for VA assistance. If The Best Years of Our Lives were in color and the women took off their hats, it would be today. This timeless quality and truth is what kept the boomers hounding me about seeing this film. Gone With The Wind, Citizen Kane, Casablanca. You talk to a classics fan, it’s only a matter of time before you’re asked, “Have you ever seen The Best Years of Our Lives?”

The title alone is haunting and deserves analysis. This is supposed to be the best time of these people’s lives? Are you for real? It’s the worst. Why is that? It shouldn’t be.

Of course, there’d be none of this deserved hype for The Best Years of Our Lives without the spot on cast. Dana Andrews (Crash Dive, The Ox-Bow Incident) looks like a suave bombardier and no doubt he’s got the range to be suave and in love or angry as the over grown soda jerk. WWII movies today don’t have the air as the films of old, largely because modern actors don’t have the look and style of the forties. It looks like playing dress up.

Fredric March (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) plays the high scale banker to a Best Actor winning T. He can’t get used to no servants and nasty bosses, yet March sells the drunken slumbers and problem conversations with his wife, son, and daughter. The Thin Man alum Myrna Loy and Teresa Wright (The Pride of the Yankees) are also stellar as the patient ladies who’ve held things together before, during, and now after the war.

But of course, real life veteran and double amputee Harold Russell steals the show as Homer. A good chunk of time on film is spent in silence watching Homer use his hooks to do-or not do- routine tasks. The audience watches in twisted fascination at his skill to eat or light a cigarette, but Homer can’t button his shirt or close his door at night because he can’t turn the handle. Today, a film would never spend time on a real life person like this; much less let this heartbreaking situation speak for itself. Cudos to Best Supporting Actor winner Russell and Best Director Wyler for rising to the occasion. Some dialogue you can tell that this is Russell’s first film, but he holds his own against the stellar cast around him. In fact, his simplicity makes the film in many ways.

Based on a script by Robert Sherwood (who was also nominated for the adaptation of Rebecca) from the novel by MacKinlay Kantor, The Best Years of Our Lives won seven Oscars-including Adapted Screenplay. Words like this just aren’t spoken onscreen anymore. What’s said needs to be said. All the cues are made and lines delivered, but Wyler and Sherwood also know where to let the expressions, lighting, music, and action speak for itself. As heavy as The Best Years of Our Lives is, the audience is never hit over the head or underestimated.

There’s just so much to be said for a film of old, and The Best Years of Our Lives is the perfect time capsule. Not only could the style, look, and feel, of the post war era not be replicated today, but such a serious topic would not receive the direction, script, and time it deserves. Young folks today will probably find Best too slow, melodramatic, and cliché. Some might even laugh at the signs of the time captured on film. Women in hats and gloves, the slide across the front seat of a car (that’s not even possible in today’s models!), even the drinking, smoking, and eating habits portrayed have changed. We don’t even have soda jerks anymore-and Dollar Tree and Five Below have replaced five and ten cent stores.

All these changes and yet The Best Years of Our Lives captures America’s reactions and relationships to soldiers then and now. Not one minute of its near three hour run time is wasted, and once you sit down, you can’t turn away, despite how uncomfortable some scenes can make you feel. These things need to be witnessed.

The Best Years of Our Lives can’t be appreciated by cgi spoiled young folks. Although there’s no blood, little violence, and no language to speak of, the subject matter in The Best Years of Our Lives is not suitable for children or the overly sensitive. Boomers no doubt know the film by heart, and a DVD upgrade is definitely necessary for the tech savvy and collectors. If you’re interested in war films or are a budding classic enthusiast, you can’t watch The Best Years of Our Lives soon enough.