The way Teresa Wright tenderly dries Dana Andrews' face. When Frederic March is drunkenly dancing with Myrna Loy there's a sudden, brilliant moment when he looks like he doesn't recognise her. The way Gregg Toland's camera very elegantly moves in the ladies' scene to find a more intimate mirror shot with focus on Teresa Wright learning what Andrews's wife Virginia Mayo is really like. When March confronts Andrews in the booth at Butch's and tells him he can't see Wright any more, the length of time the camera just rests on Andrews' face, such a long linger, while he's furiously thinking. And the way he tears the foursome photo in half, so it's just he and Wright, but then tears that up as well (a perfect show don't tell). And throughout it all, that emotive, brave, proud score by Hugo Friedhofer (one of its seven Oscars).
The film is exalted at a level few films reach.
I first watched it on TV on 2 April 1978, aged 14, and gave it 7/10.
No comments:
Post a Comment