Madame Bovary 1949

MGM's 1949 'Madame Bovary' is wildly erratic and highly watchable.

The Vincente Minnelli-directed 1949 version of Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary is fascinating, but wildly erratic, much like the heroine herself.

The huge hurdles for the movie-makers with this take on the once-scandalous novel of a French housewife are never satisfactorily resolved: telling a story that would satisfy audiences, critics—and censors; movie-making with more post-war modern realism, and less from the past era’s style; and bolstering a leading lady who lacked confidence in her acting ability.

I never realized how James Mason sounded like his own best hammy imitation!

Some critics have cited the MGM treatment of Madame Bovary as anti-Emma, claiming that the studio framed the story within the censors’ rule that movie sinners must be punished by the last reel. I disagree. There are plenty of instances in the movie that defends Emma as trapped by her role of a woman, in male-dominated society. I have not read the book, but this adaptation posits that her childish ideas of life arise from her sheltered upbringing as a small town farm girl. When Emma attempts to act on them as an adult woman, the results are tragic. Director Minnelli deserves credit for a reasonably faithful rendition of Madame Bovary, filmed in an era when studios didn’t particularly care about fidelity—to a book, at least. In case you don’t get the message that Madame Bovary is great art and not scandalous trash, there’s a prologue and an epilogue that bookends the trial, which in turn bookends the movie. The idea of portraying author Gustave Flaubert on trial, to defend the decency of MGM’s Madame Bovary, must have seemed like a brilliant idea to offset showbiz censors. However, after James Mason's sonorous speechifying at the trial, we’re treated to his pompous narration that’s so intrusive that it’s comical. You’re relieved when he finally shuts up half way through.

The eternal triangle: Madame Bovary, the suave French playboy, and Mr. Bovary, the dull doctor. Guess what happens next?

This 1949 version of Madame Bovary was one of Metro's 25th silver anniversary movies, but in reality, it was their last hurrah as Hollywood’s greatest studio. Like other MGM takes on the classics about modest folk with only proximity to wealth, the stars of Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, and Madame Bovary still wear improbably lavish costumes and live in “cozy” luxury. Jennifer Jones sports gowns by Walter Plunkett, famed for his Scarlett O’Hara designs for David O. Selznick’s Gone with the Wind. Director Minnelli, despite his own love of glamour, at least attempted to give Emma's rustic life some genteel grit, but was thwarted by MGM.

Just a simple French farm girl making an omelette for the visiting doctor.!

In her first scene, when Emma is cooking breakfast, I burst out laughing. After a stormy night with rain seeping into the country kitchen, there is Jones as Emma, looking utterly pristine. Emma’s morning wear is a gigantic gown, with a huge decorative rose, as she delicately makes an omelette for visiting doctor Charles Bovary (Van Heflin.)

So it goes, with each scene, as Jones swans around in a gown or cape even more lavish and absurd than the last. How much more dramatic would it have been if Emma actually dressed like a country doctor’s wife, and finally gets to fulfill her dream at the Marquis’ ball, swathed in her soiree-stopping, snowy white confection.

Emma is encouraged to live large by the sinister shopkeeper!

Madame Bovary is one of those studio system era movies that are a mish mash of accents—American, British, and one actual Frenchman! Van Heflin is sympathetic as Charles Bovary, the benign and bewildered husband, though he is directed to play the drunken hubby at the ball very broadly, where he bursts Emma’s romantic bubble. The supporting cast, though playing archetypes, offer skillful portrayals. Ellen Corby, Grandma Walton herself, plays Emma’s long-suffering maid. I was puzzled that the great Gladys Cooper (Now, Voyager) has just one scene, making me wonder if a subplot had been cut out of the final film. Louis Jourdan plays yet another charming, smarmy French playboy, who helps lead the heroine to ruin.

Ultimately, Madame Bovary is all about Emma and the actress who plays her. There are a bevy of Madame Bovarys, all have their merits, but the Vincente Minnelli version is still the most famous. This is a bit surprising, since MGM’s Madame Bovary was a flop at the box office. Originally, Lana Turner was offered the role of Emma. This could have been an apt choice, as Turner was a romantic whose shallow outlook created as much disaster in her own life, as Emma Bovary did in hers. Lana thought the script dull and turned it down, and found out she was pregnant, as well. Minnelli was relieved, as he felt Turner’s notoriety would attract more attention from censors, and that an actress with a more respectable screen image would be a better choice.

Lana: "No, Jen, YOU play 'Madame Bovary!' You'll win a second Oscar!'

Enter Jennifer Jones as Emma. Never mind that Jones’ marriage and family with Robert Walker was wrecked when Gone with the Wind producer David O. Selznick set his sights on Jennifer. Or four years later, Selznick was still haggling with his current wife over the end of their marriage. In fact, it was during Madame Bovary’s production that Irene Selznick was granted a divorce. Ultimately, image is everything in Hollywood, and Jones was the dream girl of super productions like Song of Bernadette and Since You Went Away. Ethereal Jennifer Jones as Emma Bovary therefore took the onus off playing a scandalous character.

Jennifer Jones is one of Hollywood's most puzzling personalities. Jones grew up in a theatrical family, who owned a chain of movie theaters. She and first hubby Robert Walker were aspiring actors together. Yet, friend and co-star Joan Fontaine said of working with Jones on her last big movie, 1962’s Tender is the Night, even at that late date, acting “was a kind of torture” for Jennifer.  Jones is an anomaly among performers who grew up surrounded by showbiz—Mickey Rooney, Judy Garland, Sammy Davis—who lived for the limelight. And there are many stars that are shy off-stage, but who have brash personas. Jennifer Jones seemed a bit like Marilyn Monroe, both seeking and repelling stardom. Some critics of Jones have questioned the “shy” Jennifer, claiming it was an act to cover her ambition. To me, her reclusive nature and increasing discomfort on-screen seemed to indicate that Jennifer was not pretending. And yet Jones aspired to stardom, or she wouldn’t have broken up her family for the siren call of superstardom that Selznick promised.

Portrait of Jennifer, as Madame Bovary, dressed to the nines.

Though he technically had nothing to do with this Madame Bovary, David Selznick peppered everyone involved with his famous memos—all about how to bring out the best in Jennifer Jones. Like so many powerful Hollywood men, Selznick was obsessed with his star, and determined to make her into Hollywood’s greatest superstar. Newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst attempted the same with Marion Davies. Davies was a showgirl with a natural flair for comedy, but Hearst’s desire was to make her a great dramatic actress. Instead, they made a string of big budget flops that made Marion a punch line. Film contemporaries and historians later said that Davies might have had a more interesting and relaxed career if Hearst had just butted out. And many film folk and critics felt the same in regard to Selznick and Jones.

Jones’ ambivalence is apparent in many of her movies, which is why movie fans and critics are still wildly divided over Jennifer’s abilities as an actress. As Emma Bovary, Jones gives off a jittery intensity throughout, which serves her character well. Jennifer is also wildly uneven as the country girl who longs for romance and riches. Jones can be subtly in tune with Emma in one scene, studio era “dramatic” in the next, and feverishly unnerving after that. Even here, critics and audiences were starting to notice Jones’ nervous tics, especially her tendency to grimace during dramatic scenes.

Every time Emma embraces a new dream—a new home, a baby, a lover, or even a ball gown—Jennifer makes the pronouncement with a fixed, wild stare as if she's playing the beatific Bernadette again, seeing visions. Jennifer seems most comfortable in her love scenes, luxuriating in her romantic fantasy. Yet, as the desperate Emma calling on her former lover for financial help, Jones is theatrically obvious, and therefore, not especially sympathetic. Finally, as Emma on her death bed, after swallowing gobs of arsenic, Jones dies a realistically painful death. 

Jones as Emma, facing her ruin. Jennifer reminds me of Kim Cattrall here.

Perhaps it is Jennifer’s lack of confidence and the inability to create empathy for a basically unsympathetic character that makes Jones' Emma Bovary off putting. Vivien Leigh and Elizabeth Taylor often played passionate women who did foolhardy things (off-screen, too!) but they always retained audience sympathy, especially from female fans. Leigh, a few years before, or Taylor, a decade later, could have easily played Emma. I think MGM’s Ava Gardner might have made a fine Emma. Gardner was a small town farm girl who came to Hollywood, where her dreams turned to disillusion, too. However, Ava was about as insecure about her talent as Jones.

'Madame Bovary' comes alive in the famous waltz scene. This is one of director Vincente Minnelli's best scenes on film.

Wildly uneven as Jones is, Jennifer still has her moments. For this Madame Bovary, the famed ballroom scene is where everything comes together. Jennifer Jones, who looks lovely throughout, is especially fetching in her gauzy, snow-white gown, with black feathers across the bosom. Surrounded by admirers, Scarlett O’ Hara-style, Emma takes a breather between dances. Jourdan as Rodolphe makes his move, the suave stud ready to sweep Mrs. Bovary off her feet. Emma goes from Cinderella to belle of the ball, and this scene is the perfect moment: the increasingly giddy waltz, the camera swirling along with Emma, surrounded by aristocrats, in the arms of a handsome man, waiters who smash windows with chairs when she exclaims that she can’t breathe, and Emma Bovary’s romantic daydreams momentarily come true.

Jones’ other big scene in Bovary is when Emma plans to run off with Rodolphe. Waiting for a stagecoach on a dark, windy night, Jennifer’s intensity conveys Emma’s yearning to escape her small town life. As the stagecoach comes closer into the village, the horses’ hoof beats become louder—symbolizing Emma’s heart pounding? The stagecoach looms into view…and then passes by, followed by a huge close-up of Emma screaming, powerfully portrayed by Jones. Emma, defeated, returns to her home and husband. Charles is waiting and so is a basket of fruit, from Rodolphe, along with a farewell note. Jones’ reaction to her lovers’ kiss off is eerily catatonic.

Emma Bovary's romantic dreams go up in flames. Jones with Van Heflin as Charles Bovary.

Looking at Jennifer Jones’ career in terms of hits is bizarrely skewed. Jennifer starred in eight bonafide blockbusters: Song of Bernadette, Since You Went Away, Love Letters, and Duel in the Sun in the 1940s. Then in the '50s, there were The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, Love is a Many Splendored Thing, and the critically panned but commercial A Farewell to Arms. Finally, Jones literally went out with a blaze of glory in 1974’s The Towering Inferno. Nearly none of these movies hold up today.  After those films, Jones’ box office stand takes a huge dip when looking at her other films like Portrait of Jennie, Carrie, We Were Strangers, Tender is the Night, as well as Madame Bovary. All were box office duds. The films that have won her cult status were financial flops too, but got her good notices, like Cluny Brown, Beat the Devil, and Indiscretion of an American Housewife. I find her appealing both as the saintly Good Morning, Miss Dove and as the trashy bayou babe in Ruby Gentry—again, not big hits. In Jones’ defense, the movies that stars are most remembered for aren’t always their biggest hits, and Jennifer’s work is worth exploring. Happy hunting though, because Jennifer Jones' career is checkered, to say the least.

Bette as a bitchy Madame Bovary!

Here's a fascinating coincidence: the same year as Jennifer Jones played Emma Bovary, Bette Davis ended her Warner Brothers contract playing a modern day version of Bovary in Beyond the Forest. Having just seen Madame Bovary for the first time, I was shocked at how much Forest author Stuart Engstrand ripped off the Flaubert classic. Seriously, Beyond the Forest is pretty much a replay of Madame Bovary in modern dress. And Bette's character Rosa Moline is just a mean girl version of Emma Bovary. Like Emma, Rosa is also married to a doctor, lives for luxury, looks down on her fellow townspeople, takes a rich lover, humiliates her husband, berates her maid, and dies a slow, painful death. The only thing Emma doesn't do is shoot a porcupine and a boozy tattletale!

The best way to watch this Madame Bovary is to ignore or enjoy its contradictions. Or maybe watch Jones’ Emma as a double feature with Bette’s bitchy broad version of Bovary!

Let's leave Emma Bovary on a happy note, the belle of the ball, and surrounded by admiring men!

Mr. Skeffington 1944

Bette Davis' famed portrait as Fanny Skeffington, her society belle at age 20.

Bette Davis is definitely the belle of the ball in Mr. Skeffington, but Claude Rains in the title role is the heart of this 1944 film. Mr. Skeffington is remembered as one of Bette Davis’ big hits for Warner Brothers, but there were also telltale signs that Queen Bette’s rule at WB was beginning to wane.

Mr. Skeffington was one of those episodic bestsellers that Hollywood loved to turn into epic movies. The book was obliquely titled, because Mr. Skeffington never actually appears in the book, only recalled by his wife, Fanny Trellis Skeffington. Once Bette Davis got wind that WB optioned the novel and expressed her desire to play Fanny, I’m surprised the title wasn’t changed to MRS. Skeffington. 

Bette, nearly as painted up as the portrait, as Fanny at 20.

Never mind that Fanny was a beautiful belle of 20 at the book’s beginning—Davis was 36 and frankly, looked every year. While attractive, nobody ever considered Bette a great beauty, either. In fact, WB planned on borrowing MGM’s gorgeous Hedy Lamarr to play Fanny Skeffington. However, at early ‘40s WB, whatever Bette wanted, Bette got.

Another negating factor during Mr. Skeffington’s pre-production was that Bette Davis’ husband, businessman Arthur Farnsworth, collapsed on a L.A. sidewalk and died shortly after. Despite being extremely distraught, Davis insisted that the show must go on, with her. Amazingly, Bette came back to work a week later. 15 years later, when Elizabeth Taylor’s husband, Mike Todd, was killed in a plane crash, Taylor was back on the set of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof less than three weeks later. That’s how divas rolled back in Hollywood’s golden era!

Bette, in old-age makeup, putting out 
good vibes on 'The Mr. Skeffington' set.

Whereas Liz was vulnerable on Cat, Bette was venomous, and took out all her grief on the set of Mr. Skeffington. Davis herself admitted in her memoirs, The Lonely Life, that at that point, she was somebody “only a mother could love.” Between her age and Bette’s stressful life, Davis’ favorite makeup man and cinematographer, Perc Westmore and Ernest Haller, had their work cut out for them. First, these two long-time Davis collaborators had to make her look like the 20-ish toast of New York, circa 1914. Much has been made of the makeup Bette Davis wears when she plays 50-year-old Fanny. But Davis also looks heavily made up as the younger Fanny, especially in close-up. Davis once told a film writer, that on the set of Deception two years later, Bette cried when she saw Haller bring on the gauze covered lights for her. Well, Bette must have been butting in elsewhere on Mr. Skeffington, because Bette’s Fanny is swimming in a glowing soft haze that Barbara Walters would envy. That said, Davis was frank in her memoirs 15 years later, stating that she was no raving beauty, they used every trick in the book to convey the illusion, giving Bette the confidence to feel lovely as Fanny Skeffington. I agree, to a point. But buying Bette as the most beautiful woman in New York City is still a stretch, no matter how much makeup Perc painted on her and the gauzy haze that Haller employs.

Bette as Fanny, & Claude Rains, aptly named Job!

As Fanny Skeffington, Bette’s character is like Scarlett O’ Hara, but without brains: charming, vain, and shallow, but with no depth of character or survivor’s instinct. This must have been a difficult character to play, in terms of audience sympathy. Bette never worried about the audience adoring her, and like Vivien Leigh and later, Elizabeth Taylor, managed to create empathy for playing women dissatisfied with their men or lot in life.

Bette as flapper Fanny, & director Vincent Sherman.

Bette pulls out all the stops as Fanny, fluttering her long lashes and speaking in a high-pitched, girlish voice. It’s a trick Bette used play another flirty, younger character, in 1942’s In This Our Life. Later Davis used a similar tact, when she played another character that she was too old for, small-town sex bomb Rosa Moline in Beyond the Forest. Unfortunately, by mistake or design, Davis’ Fanny affects those mannerisms right up to her middle years.

What brings balance to Bette’s grand performance is the warm, wry performance by Claude Rains as the title character. Bette’s society belle is actually broke and marries the rich, Jewish Job Skeffington for his money. While Fanny is fond of him, she seeks fun elsewhere, with a succession of suitors—just like when she was single. Job goes gradually from indulgent to disappointed, and finally, fed up. Claude Rains was Bette’s favorite leading man, probably because he didn’t try to upstage her, but also because of his versatility. Here, as Job Skeffington, he is wounded by her hurtfulness, but not a wimp. Rains also worked well with Davis on Juarez, Deception, and especially, Now, Voyager. The Skeffingtons’ story spans three decades, starting just before World War l through the middle of WW ll.

Davis as Depression-era Fanny Skeffington.

Like many golden era movies, personal crises conveniently happen during the same time as historical moments. However, director Vincent Sherman keeps things moving at smooth clip and Mr. Skeffington never drags during its 2 ½ hour running time.

The script, by twins Julius and Philip Epstein, is clever and adult for its era. Mr. Skeffington manages to avoid the censorship trap that adulterous Fanny must pay for her sins. Near the end of the film, Fanny contracts diphtheria and loses her looks practically overnight. I guess this was considered punishment enough in during Hollywood’s glamour era!

Also noteworthy are costumes that Orry-Kelly, another Davis devotee, designed. They range from dramatically wow to drag queen wowza.

Backed by the studio system resources—lavish sets and costumes, a great cast, a skilled studio director and screenwriters—all help Mr. Skeffington richly recreate an era. Mr. Skeffington was a big success for Warner Bros., plus Bette Davis and Claude Rains rightly received Oscar nominations.

However, in retrospect, Mr. Skeffington shows the beginning of Bette’s decline. The film took forever to make, because of off-camera drama by Davis. It’s noteworthy that Bette never received another Academy Award nomination during her Warner years, especially for her subtle turn in The Corn is Green the next year. And it’s especially notable that the new gal at Warner Brothers, Joan Crawford, won the Oscar that year for Mildred Pierce. Don’t think that went unnoticed. Also, when Bette insisted on playing a young and beautiful character at 35, she may have prematurely planted the seed that Davis was swiftly becoming past her prime.

Fanny at 50, trying to hide the after-effects of illness.

Another huge debit was that both Jack Warner and director Vincent Sherman hated the old age makeup Bette insisted on as the withered Fanny. Since Bette’s character insists on trying to fool everybody by wearing heavy makeup to disguise illness, audiences are treated to Davis sporting gaudy glamour makeup on top of old age makeup. The look eerily predicts her look as Baby Jane Hudson. Also, Davis’ character loses most of her hair, so Bette sports a tightly curled wig. In short, Bette looks startling, especially surrounded by fellow cast members—even those in their old age makeup!

It’s a sign of how much power Davis wielded that tough studio head Warner deferred to her during this time. And while Sherman is a far more talented director than Hollywood historians give him credit for, he was no William Wyler. When Davis sported extreme makeup playing older in 1941’s The Little Foxes, Wyler and Davis came to such blows that they never worked together again. After Mr. Skeffington, Davis never worked with a strong director like Wyler again for the duration of her Warners’ contract.

Fanny at 40 looks like a young Baby Jane!

Bette insisted, saying her audience loved seeing her play roles that required “character” makeup. Hmmm, maybe… Still, nobody can accuse Bette of being afraid to go there, playing an unlikeable character, no matter how extreme. If the final result is somewhat indulgent, Bette Davis’ commitment to creating a full-bodied character and not just coasting on glamour is admirable. The fine supporting cast also balances out Davis’ diva performance.

For those Bette Davis critics who think she went too far, can you imagine if Hedy Lamarr had played Fanny Skeffington? Hedy was heavenly looking, but she seemed to mistake sedate for sedated. Lamarr was no actress, and I can’t even imagine her playing a 50ish ex-beauty.

Vivien Leigh, when 'Mr. Skeffington' was filmed.

Still, in my alternative casting universe, here’s my choice for the perfect Fanny Skeffington: Vivien Leigh. A great beauty and actress, playing a high-strung, vain vixen would have been right up Viv’s alley. Plus, Leigh was five years younger than Davis, and still gorgeous. In real life, Leigh and husband Laurence Olivier chose to tough it out in England during WW ll. Ironically, two years later, Vivien co-starred opposite Claude Rains in a British production of Caesar and Cleopatra. I can totally see Vivien as Fanny, coming down the top of those stairs, fending off suitors—and a brave enough actress to play her later, when Fanny’s looks have vanished. It was only six years later when Leigh played the ravaged Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire—coincidentally, a role that Warners’ considered Bette for. Film history checks and balances have a way of working out, I guess.

Bill Kennedy, kissing Bette's hand, as one of Fanny's suitors.

P.S.—When I was a kid, I watched Bill Kennedy at the Movies on Detroit’s superstation, TV-50. Kennedy introduced me to all these great old movies and he was once an actor himself, at Warner Brothers. Bill appears in Mr. Skeffington as one of Fanny’s many beaus. Bill Kennedy looks very handsome in a Robert Taylor way, and every time Bill showed this or other movies that he appeared in, the TV camera guy would spotlight his scenes with a halo. Now, that’s lighting Bette Davis would envy!

Claude Rains, whose warm performance as Job Skeffington is the heart of 'Mr. Skeffington.'