The
Heiress is a Cinematic Master Class
by
Kristin Battestella
Wealthy
but dowdy Catherine Sloper (Olivia de Havilland) is pursued by the
penniless Morris Townsend (Montgomery Clift) in producer and director
William Wyler's (Ben-Hur) 1949 The Heiress, based upon
the Ruth and Augustus Goetz play inspired by Henry James' Washington
Square. Despite his widowed
sister Lavinia Penniman's (Miriam Hopkins) support of the romance,
stern Doctor Austin Sloper (Ralph Richardson) fears Morris is nothing
but a fortune hunter after the even larger finances Catherine stands
to inherit. He insists the couple wait to marry, testing Morris and
holding his daughter to unrealistic comparisons of her late mother –
leading to lifelong bitterness and cruel revenge.
Well!
The good doctor spends a family party whispering over how he doesn't
like his unmarriageable daughter, looming large in the foreground in
his shiny top hat while his meek daughter is off to the side, small
within the picture frame. Who is this suitor asking for all her
dances? He's far too charming to like her, and the fortnight courting
moves whirlwind fast with multiple visits, flowers, and songs. The
Heiress does have awkward
humorous moments thanks to innocently deadpan responses as
Catherine drops her bag in shock when she's complimented. However,
increasing skepticism and hindrances progress as the camera reflects
each tug and pull – men debate on either side while she remains
tiny in the middle. Visual parallels mirror the one-on-one
confrontations per act with father and daughter, daughter and lover,
or father versus suitor scenes all carrying dual symbolism. The basic
man courts daughter and dad objects story may appear simple, but the
focused performances and character interplay tell the who's who
suspicion on all sides. Who is right and which one is wrong?
Catherine can't fathom Morris wanting her for her money, even though
her father already views her as the unworthy price of her mother. The
Heiress is dialogue laden
thanks to the play source, but the extra subtext translates in the
positioning and postures onscreen. One superb two-hander halfway
through presents the dilemma almost as a courtroom case, escalating
the conflict with protocol, well spoken arguments, and fallacies
disguised as pleasantries. Romantic scenes, three second kisses,
swelling music, and cinematic embraces plead for love and honesty,
and every encounter is all the more intense because The Heiress
does its bitter tragedy with
words instead of unnecessary bells and whistles. There's no
need for visual deflection because the script is so strong; stage
directions or men pacing create little need for major cuts or
editing. Catherine grows bold by turning back and forth between the
two men, leaving the camera as a witness to the unexpected twists.
One night of tense waiting hits home with ticking clock anticipation,
and nineteenth century perspectives as well as today's
interpretations can be debated as father and daughter go head to
head. By the second half of The Heiress, Catherine's stature
dominates the frame – growing larger upon the ascending stairs as
her cruelty spreads across the screen, warning those who would try it
to keep clear in an excellent,
turning tables master course finale.
Best
Actress Oscar winner Olivia de Havilland (Gone with the Wind)
is a beautiful woman but Catherine Sloper is dowdy with a severe bun,
sullen face, and ill-fitting gowns. Her shy, bumbling naivety makes
her seem younger than she really is, and she messes up everything she
does. Catherine is guided around with little will of her own and told
what to do. She can't even hold her fan right and men forced into a
dance ditch her. She thinks no one listens to her, letting others
lead the conversation by only giving yes, no, or agreeing answers –
but above all, Catherine wants to please her father. Why does
everyone have to push and manipulate her? Why can't she just mature
or wallflower at her own pace? She's not stupid and has no time for a
snobby hospice committee uninterested in cleaning or kitchen work.
Catherine has some witty banter with her aunt as well – when asked
if her late uncle is watching over them, Catherine answers, “That
depends on where he is, Aunt.” Of course, she doesn't realize when
Morris is flirting with her, and is shocked that he wants to dance
every waltz. Catherine physically bends to Morris, literally leaning
back against doors or furniture as he comes closer. She's
apprehensive at his hold over her but understandably falls in love
with him. She already has a hefty monthly sum from her mother's
estate, enough to live on if her father disapproves of a marriage and
leaves his wealth to his clinic, but Catherine says she would never
defy her father. Morris, however, asserts she is her own of age
woman, and she looks at herself in the mirror anew and carries
herself differently once kissed. Catherine tells her father they are
engaged rather than asking for his approval, for a beautiful man who
has everything a woman wants wants her. Her aunts describe Catherine
as a new woman radiant and happy at the proposal, but her father
insists Morris is worthless and Catherine is his willing victim.
Further dialogue clues suggest she is aware of his abusive tone, and
later Catherine admits a life with Morris couldn't have been as bad
as her life with her father has been. Catherine learns how deep the
despising goes after her father's terrible tirade, and she will not
relent against his scorn – thus risking her elopement as a result.
I want to quote The Heiress word for word, but can't give
everything away! Catherine's mousy unassuming voice becomes hardened
as the love she thinks will take her away from home turns into a
surprisingly progressive story about how a woman need not be bound by
a father or a lover. Unfortunately, she will be defined by their
negative ebb and flow, master makers turning the once kind girl rigid
and cruel.
Is
Morris Townsend only after Catherine's money? Montgomery Clift (From
Here to Eternity) is the epitome of fool me once, shame on you in
The Heiress, and every
time I see this, my opinion on our suitor's ambiguous
intentions changes. Morris
has an empty dance card, too; he has to count out his waltz and
promises not to kick Catherine if she won't kick him. He always has
an upper hand with a joke, wink, or smile. He makes her blush at his
improper touchy feely, and it's easy to be swept up in the
charismatic moment with that “Can't Help Falling in Love” Plaisir
d'amour. He brings the piano
music but doesn't need to look at the rehearsed notes – he clears
his throat and asks for pity if his falling in love with her makes
him sound stupid. Morris does seem to like Catherine and her genuine
manner, however, he already knows who she is when he approaches, and
his flirtatious words are hiding in plain sight responses. Did he
plan this courting or is he an opportunist taking the chance
presented to him? He's the only opportunity she has anyway, right?
Isn't the affection he offers her more valuable than money? It might
not be bad if he married her for her money but was kind and took care
of her. Morris already squandered his own inheritance touring Europe,
so is Dr. Sloper right to suspect him as a manipulative fellow?
Morris has an answer for everything, and Catherine defends him
against her father, opening her eyes to his dislike of them both. He
pushes her to stand up to her father and run away with him after only
two weeks because her father claiming he is after her money doesn't
matter if she loves him. Morris is working harder to win Catherine
because he's poor and loves her, isn't he? He isn't wrong in saying
her father enjoys making her miserable, but Morris won't marry
without his approval and agrees to wait six months to avoid causing
Catherine further unhappiness. However, he grows smug at her father's
challenge, smoking the house cigars while sipping claret with his
feet up by the fire. Morris admires Dr. Sloper as a man of fine taste
– they hate each other but like the same things. He cheats at games
with Aunt Lavinia, and Morris can for sure prove his con one moment
while pleading his defense as an unworthy poor man in love in the
next minute. He remains passionate with Catherine, ready to elope
with the reverend waiting. He and his dear girl and shall be happy –
until she stands up to her father, that is. I simply adore the scene
when Catherine wishes to leave one night early, as Clift's brief
oh...sheeettt look to
the camera becomes a stunning cinematic moment amid the sweeping
kisses and devoted promises in the rain. Can a man who really loves a
women let her lose so much for him? Or is the bluff called and Morris
gets his just desserts? The Heiress is
the first film in which I saw Montgomery Clift – taping it off AMC
way back when they showed commercial free classics – and I've been
praising him ever since. We see Morris' slick internal puppeteering
but his suave cast just enough reasonable doubt. Today's actors would
willfully break the fourth wall in scene chewing obviousness, unable
to play such subtle, shady perfection. The irony, of course, is that
Clift himself disliked his performance and walked out of the
premiere. Damn son!
Best
Supporting Actor nominee Sir Ralph Richardson's (The Four
Feathers) Dr. Sloper slams the door to make his presence known to
the courting couple. He's sophisticated, wealthy, educated – and
embarrassed by his dim-witted daughter. Sloper traded a radiant wife
for this mediocre child he dislikes but expects her to reflect well
on him rather than merely embroider neatly. He forces her to
socialize, sent her to the finest schools for failed training in
music, arts, and dance, and compliments her ballgown by saying she
looks wealthy in it but the color was worn better by her mother –
who's ear was also so impeccable she could tune her own piano. Dr.
Sloper contests Morris' feigned modesty, suggesting he go West to
make something of himself and suspecting him of looking for an
upscale position in his very house. If he had a job would Sloper feel
differently? The doctor takes his time, sits properly, and talks
smoothly – a older man of leisure himself who, while he complains
about how mousy Catherine is, likes his superiority. Morris may be
the strong son he may have wanted, but having a tough son-in-law who
doesn't stand for insults or indignities won't do, and Sloper goes on
his own quest to disprove Morris. He doubts his opinion that
Catherine is delightful, for the doctor himself values her cheaply.
Sloper lies to keep her miserable, unable to understand his refusal
of the match will break Catherine's chance at happiness – despite
every single person telling him he
expects too much of people and will always be disappointed unless he
proves his own deductions. Arranged and loveless marriages
were common then, so why not tie up the money in detailed will
stipulations or trust allowances? Dr. Sloper takes care of himself
when he becomes ill after their voyage, for he's more interested in
looking after his property and legacy than his disappointing daughter
who would tarnish his respectability with this union. He's right in
making sure Morris knows he wasn't born yesterday, but the doctor is
wrong to presume he will dictate their lives. Sloper has bent
Catherine with the unkind version of his unrealistic truth, and maybe
she wouldn't have fallen for the first questionable man to come along
if he had given her the attention she deserved. He unleashes decades
of cruel thoughts on Catherine when she grows a backbone over Morris,
and he only comes to admire his daughter too late – after her
thorny outlook turns her into an abrasive image of himself.
Despite
being a little over the top and intentionally flaky, the perfectly
cast Miriam Hopkins (Becky Sharp) earned a Golden Globe
nomination as Catherine's widowed aunt Lavinia Penniman. Dr. Sloper's
sister is surprisingly giggly for a minister's wife, a busybody who's
spent a lot of time drinking, observing others gossip, and waxing on
romance. She's still suppose to be in mourning and continues to wear
black, even briefly wondering if it is appropriate to socialize at
her sister's party. However, Lavinia says she'll just be grief
stricken wherever she may be – which happens to be on the dance
floor. The Heiress almost
requires Aunt Penniman for some expected levity or humorous
moments, but such a character is also a necessary audience avatar and
counterpoint to our stern father. Dr. Sloper keeps his sister on at
Washington Square to help Catherine mingle and mature, but Lavinia
almost seems smitten by Morris herself. She says one thing and does
another, placing both sides of the dilemma into one supporting player
who can like Morris, rebuke the elder Sloper, or otherwise address
what the viewer is thinking. As much as her father is against the
affair, Lavinia pushes Catherine in the opposite way, telling her to
be gracious to a man who's come courting. She repeatedly tells her
brother this could be a good match to be thankful for and volunteers
as a chaperon before faking a headache to leave the lovebirds alone.
Lavinia eurekas over the proposal and acts as a go between with her
letters during Dr. Sloper's insisted wait, but even the romantic aunt
comes to see the truth will out between father and daughter has gone
too far. She stands by Catherine when things take a turn for the
worst, but even she wishes her niece had indeed been just a little
more clever when it came to her inheritance versus her romance rather
than letting cruelty get the best of her.
The
Victorian finery of The Heiress is distinctly 1840s New York
rather than the casually thought of nineteenth century southern
belle, but gloves, top hats, fans, cameo jewelry, and petticoats set
off the absolutely divine Edith Head (Samson and Delilah)
Black and White Costuming wins alongside calling cards, white tie
formality, and old fashioned protocol. Men need to dress like this
again! Period clutter with crystal, glass, silverware, and candles
create a shiny silver screen glitter and shimmer reflecting the
family's titular wealth. The splendid furniture is worthy of the Art
and Set Black and White Decoration awards, and superb interiors with
pocket doors open scenes or divide players as needed – not to
mention that critical multi-storied staircase. I want to live in this
townhouse with its sweet cobblestone courtyard, fountains, carriages,
gazebos, and park views. The black and white photography is crisp
with bright staging inside and out thanks to mirrors, gaslight
chandeliers, oil lamps, and large windows. There's a beautiful glow
about the screen before the night
time scenes become progressively darker as The Heiress
turns frosty with Oscar winning
music romantic or chilling to match. Bleak capes and dark
clothing add to the gothic atmosphere, shadow schemes, and long cast
silhouettes. The Heiress remains
a brilliant production, a known classic essential nominated
for Best Picture, Director, and Black and White Cinematography with
more awards praise. However, the Universal Cinema Classics DVD
edition is bare bones but for an introduction from the late TCM host
Robert Osborne and the required subtitles, leaving The Heiress
ripe for a proper blu-ray release. None of this currently
unavailable, phantom region, non-existent nonsense! The 1997
Washington Square sourced directly from James' page also isn't
that bad a period drama as today's period dramas go, but when you see
The Heiress first, it's
bitter panache just can't be surpassed.
The
Heiress takes multiple
viewings to study each scene. It never gets old, and the more times
you see it, the more likely you are to see something new. No one can
really tell you about The Heiress, one
just has to see it and make up his or her own mind on the maybe,
maybe not payback. You can watch this from Catherine's point
of view and see her need to be loved, or from Dr. Sloper's point of
view that Morris is a louse. One can also watch The Heiress
looking for Morris in love or
purely as a fortune hunter – and there will be evidence for
each case thanks to the must see mastery here.
