Saturday, February 24, 2018

Best 'BUtterfield 8' Moments from Taylor & O’Hara


Elizabeth Taylor wakes up to MGM's "BUtterfield 8!"

If Elizabeth Taylor wasn’t the star, would 1960’s BUtterfield 8 be worth watching at all? While the sexy soap opera has curiosity value, the movie was made for one reason—MGM wanted to cash in on its star, before Taylor checked out of her long-time studio.
BUtterfield 8 isn’t a great movie—or even a good one, in reality. The slick saga of a sinner has been routinely scorned, with no revisionist reappraisals. Elizabeth Taylor’s performance, though mostly praised upon its release, has since been overshadowed by her sympathy Oscar win, for nearly dying of pneumonia that year. Even the John O’Hara novel gets a knee jerk reaction as trashy, though it’s one of his best books.
A rare happy moment between the happy couple of 'BUtterfield 8.'
Even then, Harvey's Weston Ligget has a pouty moment!

Despite controversy and criticism, BUtterfield 8 is worth watching: as a look at sexual attitudes of the Playboy generation; as how morally two-faced filmmaking was in mid-century Hollywood; and especially, as proof of star power, pulling in audiences with a weak vehicle.
MGM played up the connection between O'Hara's Gloria Wandrous & Hollywood's Elizabeth Taylor to sell the movie.

The back story to BUtterfield 8: Elizabeth had shot to superstardom with WB’s Giant in 1956, but was still working off a measly contract with MGM. When Taylor married showman Mike Todd, they forced Metro to agree that 1958’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof would be her last film for them. Todd famously died in a plane crash that year—and guess what? The gentleman’s agreement between Mike and Metro went poof! MGM let Taylor make Suddenly, Last Summer as a freelancer, but when she started negotiations for Cleopatra, Metro reminded Taylor that she owed them one more film for $125,000—not quite the million she was angling for Cleo. When Elizabeth asked MGM head of production Sol Siegel if this was anyway to end an 18 year relationship, he famously replied, ‘Fortunately, or unfortunately, Miss Taylor, sentiment went out of this business a long time ago.’ That quote illustrates why Taylor became such a tough customer to studios, as an independent star.
Elizabeth Taylor's message to MGM, when forced to make 'BUtterfield 8,' or to sit off-screen
for two years?

Another reason MGM was so hot to get another movie out of Taylor is because she had become a bigger star than ever, with the legendary Liz-Eddie-Debbie scandal. I once read that MGM offered Elizabeth three scripts in a row for that last film role—all prostitutes. If you look at Metro’s miniscule 1961film releases during this time, it’s not hard to figure out the other two flicks: Ada was a southern hooker who ends up a politician’s wife. This epic would surely have come back to haunt Elizabeth when she later became a Republican senator’s wife! Susan Hayward, 15 years older than Taylor, played the tough hooker. The other, demurely titled Go Naked in the World, went to Gina Lollobrigida as a hooker who falls for prodigal son Tony Franciosa, only to find out blustering Greek tycoon Ernest Borgnine was one of her best customers! For those who think BUtterfield 8 was bad, just imagine Elizabeth stuck in one of these clunkers.

John O' Hara's second novel captures an era.

What’s a pity was that BUtterfield 8 is based on one of John O’Hara’s most praised novels. Set in early ‘30s New York City, post-stock market crash era, looks at the last days of a notorious party girl, Gloria Wandrous. And if you think Gloria’s name is a bit much, she was based on Starr Faithfull, who died young, under mysterious circumstances. The story is surprisingly sympathetic toward the heroine and is a sharp snapshot of an era.
Gloria Wandrous from the BUtterfield 8 novel and her real-life inspiration Starr Faithful are routinely described as a call girl, prostitute, or nymphomaniac. There is no evidence that Starr Faithful was a prostitute; nor is Gloria Wandrous described as a call girl in the novel. Starr and Gloria were both promiscuous, stemming from issues of molestation as a child. I’m no sex therapist, but female promiscuity isn’t the same as nymphomania, is it? The movie is ambiguous over Gloria’s morals and how she makes a living. She fusses over “taking money” for a torn dress. Her character is unashamedly sexual, so she must be a nympho, right?

Taylor & Harvey laugh with director Daniel Mann. It's been said ET didn't like Mann,
but I've lots of happy shots like these. 

However, the script Elizabeth received was modernized and turned into a voyeuristic soap opera that capitalized on her own personal scandal. Taylor’s defiance at being forced to perform in BUtterfield 8 actually worked for the role of wild child Gloria. Long-time MGM producer Pandro S. Berman made Elizabeth a star in National Velvet 15 years prior.  Berman knew that despite her threats, Taylor’s professionalism had been drummed into her head starting at age 10 by Metro and Sara, her stage mother. Berman told ET: “Play this and you’ll win the Oscar.”
I recall watching the Oscars back in ’77, when Berman was given the honorary Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award, they ran clips from the producer’s long career. When snippets of BUtterfield 8 with Taylor were shown, there was a ripple of laughter from the audience—that’s how legendary the feud between the producer and his star had become. Ironically, the big winner of the night was Network’s Paddy Chayefsky, a friend of Elizabeth’s who did some rewrites for BUtterfield 8 as a favor. When Taylor presented the revisions to Berman, he tossed them in a waste paper basket without even looking. According to the producer, Taylor flew off the sofa, ready to claw his eyes out. Personally, I think Pandro saw their prior collaboration, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, a few too many times!
Elizabeth Taylor as a bad brunette & Dina Merrill as a pure blonde at odds over bad boy Laurence Harvey.

What’s amazing is how the MGM script throws Elizabeth’s tabloid notoriety in her face under the guise of Gloria getting flack. In the novel, the other characters do not insult Gloria for her supposed lack of morals. And in the text version, Gloria knows she is deeply troubled, but she’s not teary and ashamed, like Taylor’s Wandrous in the last half of the film.
Like so many movies from the first half of the ‘60s, BUtterfield 8 has one foot stuck in the fuddy-duddy ‘50s while trying to swing with the ‘60s. The film feels contradictory because it’s hypocritical. First, BUtterfield 8 salivates over Gloria’s “sinning” and later slams her for it, by humiliating and punishing her. Once Gloria falls in love, she’s in misery. The screenwriters are forced by the censors to fall back on the old clichĂ©: once a whore, always a whore.
No sale! This was how MGM was selling ET post Liz-Eddie-Debbie scandal.

As for Taylor’s “sympathy” Oscar, won after having almost died six weeks prior to the ceremony— obviously the star won out of sentiment. What’s been forgotten: Elizabeth was nominated for playing Gloria Wandrous before she was near death. And that BUtterfield 8 was MGM’s biggest grossing movie of 1960. The Academy, especially then, liked nominating box office hits. Also, Elizabeth got mostly good personal reviews—and it was widely known that Taylor was forced to play her part. This was Taylor’s fourth consecutive Oscar nomination, after career-changing Giant: Raintree County; Cat on a Hot Tin Roof; Suddenly, Last Summer; and now BUtterfield 8. Maybe Shirley MacLaine should have won for The Apartment, but Taylor’s win wasn’t a total head scratcher. Robert Osborne compared Taylor’s win to when Bette Davis won a consolation Oscar for 1935’s Dangerous—anyone remember that classic?—when Davis was famously overlooked for her career-defining Of Human Bondage. Davis put over Dangerous, much like Taylor enlivens BUtterfield 8.
Shaky Elizabeth Taylor accepted her Oscar only six weeks after nearly dying.

A testimony to Taylor’s drawing power was that—despite people who wrote to fan mags, columnists, and MGM, swearing they’d never see an Elizabeth Taylor picture again—moviegoers flocked to her films. It didn’t matter whether it was artistic fare like Taylor’s Tennessee Williams, Edward Albee, or Shakespeare adaptations, or sudsy cinema that played off her personal life, like BUtterfield 8, The VIPS, or The Sandpiper. In that sense, the public was just as hypocritical as MGM.

I’ve always heard that the movie version of BUtterfield 8was totally different from O’Hara’s novel. Frankly, in an era when the studios bought novels for their premise only or a Broadway musical for a couple of hit songs, I was surprised that even the framework of the novel made onscreen. Aside from the updated era, the movie’s attitude is what’s so different from the novel. It’s too bad the 1935 book feels more mature and three-dimensional than the 1960 film.
The dense atmosphere of the novel is lost in the film update, yet BUtterfield 8 offers a glossy snapshot of sex in the Playboy era. Participants play like they’re swingers, but there’s lots of ‘50s Hollywood guilt attached, especially for the woman. Gloria’s married lover Weston Liggett comes off like a sourpuss version of Mad Men’s Don Draper, jealous, judgmental, and berating Gloria for her behavior, which is the same as his—except she’s not judging. BUtterfield 8 now seems ironic, since this was how Elizabeth Taylor was judged at the time. Everyone in the movie takes potshots at Gloria/Elizabeth, with the cast voicing what a segment of the audience was probably thinking about the star. Taylor was routinely referred to as a home wrecker, but Eddie Fisher, who left his wife and children, was just viewed as helpless.
'Peyton Place' stars Mildred Dunnock & Betty Field spend most of their time in 'BUtterfield 8' gossiping about Gloria.

As for the acting, Elizabeth is especially zingy as the unrepentant party girl. When the script has Gloria go from lust to love, the movie becomes a sappy soap opera. Taylor tries to inject pathos into the part, but she must contend with the scriptwriters making Gloria character traits change on a dime. BUtterfield 8 has a terrific supporting cast, but they’re all archetypes or stereotypes: Dina Merrill as Emily Liggett, a nicer Betty Draper; Susan Oliver as Norma, the jealous girlfriend; Mildred Dunnock as Gloria’s mother in denial; Betty Field as Mrs. Wandrous’ snarky best friend; and Kay Medford as “Happy,” the one hour motel owner.
Laurence Harvey as married cad Weston Liggett, played with charm that made Larry the ideal 'Manchurian Candidate.'

The two men in Gloria’s life are hopeless. Laurence Harvey was a charming party boy off-camera and became instant friends with Elizabeth Taylor. In his heyday, Harvey always played the sneering heel. As Weston Liggett, Harvey looks sleek as the rich ne’er-do-well, but his supercilious disposition becomes borderline psychotic. Why a fiery, fun girl like Gloria would give the film Weston the time of day, much less her phone number, is beyond me. Harvey always seemed to be rehearsing for The Manchurian Candidate! Eddie Fisher, whose character was named Eddie in the novel, is changed to Steve for the film. Either way, Fisher is lethargic and dour, and hard to imagine why Gloria has remained life-long friends with this lackluster pal.
Elizabeth Taylor as Gloria gets some advice from 'Happy' the motel owner, zesty Kay Medford.

As for the film itself, Daniel Mann directs competently if not excitingly. For those who say that BUtterfield 8 is a bore, I’d say that’s half true. The film has some memorable moments, mainly in the first half: the opening near-silent scenes of Gloria’s ‘morning after’; Gloria scrawling ‘No Sale!’ in lipstick on her lover’s mirror; Taylor in a slip, covered only by a mink; Wandrous and Liggett’s sparring in a cocktail lounge, capped by her grinding a stiletto into his instep; Gloria’s repartee with her pal’s fiancĂ©e and her mother’s best friend; Gloria and Mrs. Wandrous’ confrontation, capped by Taylor crying, ‘Face it, Mama. I was the slut of all time!;’ Liggett’s nasty showdown with Gloria in the bar over the mink coat; Gloria’s childhood confession to pal Steve; and of course, Gloria’s red sports car crashing over an embankment.
Yes, the film drags once Gloria finds love, but not happiness. The movie’s muddled morals make for confusing character development. Blame MGM and the censors for that.
 BUtterfield 8 may not be great, but not because of Elizabeth Taylor or John O’Hara. Taylor’s herculean efforts and O’Hara’s intriguing heroine makes BUtterfield 8 worth a watch.
Eddie & Elizabeth to Susan Oliver: Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Debbie Reynolds?!

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Thursday, February 15, 2018

Finding Frances Farmer: Fact VS Fiction

A natural beauty, Frances Farmer in a photo by the great Edward Steichen.

There are books, films, and even songs about actress Frances Farmer—always focusing on the most lurid legends of her life. About the most mind-blowing myths: Did you know there’s never been proof that Farmer was given a lobotomy during her institutionalization? Or never proven that Frances was raped by male orderlies and marauding soldiers? Or that there is proof Lillian Farmer was not a monstrous stage mother who had her daughter locked away for rejecting a movie comeback? Yet, this and much more, is accepted as fact by many people who think they know Frances’ story. And I was one of them.

Frances Farmer got her break in her first year in films, a dual role in '36's 'Come and Get It.'

I was a ‘70s teen who obsessed over old-time movie stars like Frances Farmer, while other kids were mega fans of Peter Frampton and Farrah Fawcett. I watched with morbid fascination when Detroit TV 50 played a few of Farmer’s films on Bill Kennedy at the Movies. The golden girl onscreen was impossible to reconcile with the off-screen Frances Farmer, whose career ended after a public breakdown, and who then spent nearly a decade in mental institutions.

Farmer & Bing Crosby: 'Rhythm on the Range.'
Frances Farmer became a popular starlet right from her 1936 start in films. Her third movie that year, Rhythm on the Range, opposite Bing Crosby, was a hit. Frances also starred in ’36 with Joel McCrea and Edward Arnold, in Come and Get It, with a showy dual role for Farmer as mother and daughter. Two of Hollywood’s leading alpha male directors, Cecil B. DeMille and Howard Hawks, publicly praised her star potential. Farmer went on to star opposite Ray Milland, Cary Grant, John Garfield, and Tyrone Power. Frances was lovely in the patrician way that movie makers then worshiped. She also radiated intelligence, intensity, authority, and possessed a strong, rather deep voice. Farmer should have been a shoo-in for major stardom.

However, Frances preferred the stage and seemingly disdained the conventions of movie making. Unlike fellow mavericks Katharine Hepburn and Bette Davis, Farmer’s fussing didn’t lead to better roles. All I can figure in reviewing her career is that Frances Farmer played the Hollywood fame game badly, which ended in disaster instead of diva-dom.
Frances with first husband Leif Ericson, a later star in 'High Chaparral.'

When I watched Bill Kennedy’s show, he read juicy excerpts from Frances Farmer’s posthumous memoir, Will There Really Be a Morning? Farmer had died in 1970 of cancer at age 56, and her story was finished by friend and companion, Jean Radcliffe. I ordered Farmer’s autobiography from my small town Upper MI bookstore and devoured The Snake Pit-like story. In 1978, Seattle film critic William Arnold wrote an even more bizarre version of Farmer’s life, Shadowland. I snapped that one up, too. Arnold wrote a damning story of her time in Washington’s state hospital, with tales of neighboring soldiers’ gang rapes, and the revelation that Farmer was given a transorbital lobotomy. A few years later, Jessica Lange played Frances Farmer in 1982’s Frances, cementing these sensational stories about the star in the eyes of the public forever, much like Mommie Dearest and Joan Crawford.
Frances Farmer with Ray Milland in 1937's 'Ebb Tide.'

Even at the time of Frances’ making, both books’ authenticity was questioned. Rumor had it that to help sell the near-forgotten Farmer’s story, Jean Radcliffe had heavily embellished Will There Really Be a Morning? And when Mel Brooks’ production company scooped Farmer’s story for a film, Shadowland author Arnold admitted in court that he made up the book’s most controversial claims. In recent years, both books have been essentially discredited as heavily fictionalized.

After Lange’s film debut in the lambasted ’76 King Kong remake, Jessica was striving to be taken seriously as an actress. Lange had a fair resemblance to Farmer, received mostly positive personal notices, and got her first Best Actress Oscar nomination. However, Frances received mixed-to-poor reviews for its rambling storytelling, fictionalized story, and bland male lead, Sam Shepard. Frances was not a financial success, either.


Jessica Lange as Frances Farmer in 1982's 'Frances.' 
Clint Eastwood offered his take on Jessica Lange as Frances Farmer: “The worst piece of ham acting I’ve seen in my life. I just see technical bullshit when I watch an actress like her.” Wonder what Clint thought of Jessica as Joan Crawford!

I was excited to see Frances, but was disappointed by the reviews and that the movie never made it to Traverse City, Michigan, where I lived as an adult. Ironically, Frances Farmer had performed at Traverse’s Cherry County Playhouse in the play, The Chalk Garden, back in the 1960s.
Famer's memoir, completed by a 'friend.'

When Frances was released, fellow Pacific Northwester Jeffery Michael Kauffman saw a double feature of the Lange film and Farmer’s Come and Get It. Kauffman was instantly intrigued by Frances Farmer. The writer/musician set off on a 20 year journey, first exploring her controversial life, and then setting the record straight on her. Kauffman befriended the Farmer family, got access to her personal and medical documents, tapes from late-life friends who had helped the star with her memoir, and much more. Kauffman deconstructs both Farmer’s memoir and Arnold’s Shadowland, exposing the inaccuracies in both, especially the obvious errors and wild accusations of Arnold’s book. Kauffman’s research on Farmer contradicts the common myths about the star. Despite his extensive ties and research regarding Farmer, Kauffman has never written his own Farmer book—the information is on his website for free. How admirable that he chose not to profit off Frances Farmer.


Here are Kauffman’s findings on Farmer:
And here is Kauffman, writing about how he first became fascinated by Frances: http://jeffreymichaelkauffman.com/the-frances-labyrinth/

This later bio was riddled with errors
and sensational claims.

Frances and Frances Farmer eventually faded from the forefront of my mind.  End of story, right?
I came across Frances recently and finally watched the film in January of 2018. My reaction? The critics were right. The highlight of Frances is the phenomenal pairing of Jessica Lange, coming into her own as Farmer, and a comeback by legendary method actress Kim Stanley, as her formidable mother, Lillian. Otherwise, the movie is wildly uneven in its pace and tone, and worthless as a biography. Also, the meandering second half causes the movie to run into overtime, at a whopping two hours and twenty minutes.

It’s fascinating that Frances came out a year after Mommie Dearest, based on another controversial life story of a Hollywood star. Frances seems diffused and drawn out, while Mommie Dearest feels like a frantic ‘sizzle reel’ of Joan Crawford’s greatest hits in misbehavior. However, both only offer the bare bones of the actual stars’ lives, with plenty of fictionalized soap opera or questionable ‘facts’ as filler. While not as cartoon-ish as the Crawford rendition, Frances’ stock clichĂ©s raises more red flags than it answers questions.
Frances Farmer & John Garfield got screwed over by the Group Theatre's production of 'Golden Boy.' 
She later lost her role to a rich actress, & they reneged on giving John the title role.

Unlike Mommie Dearest, with its composites or caricatures of real people, Frances features a fictional studio head, director, and worst of all, a life-long knight in shining armor for Farmer. The film’s doctors, lawyers, and studio figures are all villainous cartoon characters eager to take Frances down. Frances’ fictionalized version of husband Leif Ericson leaves over her affair with the totally fictitious Harry York. Playwright Clifford Odets, Farmer’s married lover, gets the blame for throwing Frances in an emotional tailspin, though their affair ended five years before her breakdown. Frances’ dramatic structure is a phony Hollywood house of cards.

Director Graeme Clifford said on the 2002 DVD commentary of Frances: “We didn’t want to nickel and dime people to death with facts.” Why, Ryan Murphy couldn’t have said it better! Recently, Murphy star Ricky Martin defended their TV series about the Versace murder, citing the show as “a painting, not a photograph.” This disingenuous Hollywood attitude is why I’ve given up on showbiz film bios. The recent Bette/Joan fan fiction that was Feud finished off any curiosity I have for seeing Hollywood history recreated—or more accurately, re-imagined.
Shepard's 'Harry York' takes Frances from the nuthouse to a roadhouse!

My biggest problem with Frances is Sam Shepard as activist/journalist “Harry York.” Shepard’s folksy, basic narration underlines the movie’s absurd storyline. And for a made-up character, next to Lange, Shepard has the movie’s biggest part! Harry is literally Johnny-on-the-spot for every one of Farmer’s crisis moments. At the film’s start, both rebels show up in movie newsreels back to back, for their activist antics. It doesn’t matter whether Farmer’s embroiled with movie moguls, lying theater types, a monster mama, or mental hospital bureaucrats—Harry is there. By the end of the movie, it feels like a running gag. After watching Frances humiliated on TV’s This is Your Life post-psychiatric hospital, Harry runs down to the TV studio to see her one last time. How did he know which studio Frances was at? Or whether the show was live or taped? The dramatic gesture is utterly ridiculous. At the movie’s finish, a post script appears that Frances Farmer died alone (not true) and that Frances and Harry never saw each other again. Now, that is true—because Harry didn’t exist! Shepard as Harry is onscreen strictly to provide Frances a love interest (well, at least Jessica got one in real life with Sam!) and to soften Farmer’s sad journey.
Frances plays Farmer as the noble victim, fighting her hypocritical hometown, phony Hollywood and Broadway, and dysfunctional family battles. All these situations are portrayed in clichéd ways that feel rote. The film never explores whether Farmer actually had psychological issues or if she was just sensitive and high-strung.

Lange & Kim Stanley in 'Frances,' 
whose performances are the film's greatest asset.

The production side of Frances provides a more convincing scene than the screenplay, through the atmospheric cinematography, set design, and John Barry score. Ultimately, the two female leads, Lange and Stanley, are who truly make Frances worth watching.  Unfortunately, their scenes hinge on the long-running myth that Lillian Farmer was determined to get Frances back into films, whereas she wanted to retire from the screen. Lillian decided her daughter must be crazy to give up stardom. Kauffman cites various interview quotes where Lillian Farmer and family demure as to whether Frances would ever be fit to resume her career. The one person quoted as expressing interest in getting back into film was Frances herself.
Frances Farmer with family and then-husband Leif Ericson. 
Contrary to myth, they didn't desert her when she broke down.

Contrary to the common story, Frances’ mother didn’t have her locked up as revenge. Frances went through a cycle of various institutions, homecomings, breakdowns or running away, before ending up at Washington’s Western State Hospital. Farmer’s parents and family visited her weekly. Also, ex-husband Leif Ericson kept in touch with Farmer and her family, and even appeared on Farmer’s movie hosting show in the 1960s.
Frances Farmer was a popular movie host and summer stock actress in the '60s,
making the claim that she was given a lobotomy highly unlikely.

It’s one thing to condense, recreate, and create composites in the name of dramatic license or coherent storytelling. Knowingly dramatizing a lie for entertainment or dramatic value is still a lie. Frances Farmer, the once-forgotten starlet is now one of Hollywood’s legendary cautionary tales. To heap further sleazy untruths upon the memory of Frances, of all people, is especially sad. It’s like the creeps who crawl out of the woodwork every few years with a “shocking” new book about Marilyn Monroe.

Frances Farmer at CBS, for 'The Ed Sullivan' show.
Some people feed on the misery myth of certain stars. They seem to get off on the sensationalized version of Frances Farmer, gone crazy, given shock treatment and a lobotomy. The same is true of movie “fans” who want to think Joan Crawford was a drunken, crazed shrew 24/7, or wallow in the Judy Garland “tragedy,” or that miserable Marilyn was murdered by the mob. I recall watching Phil Donahue’s show, when The National Enquirer’s editor, Mike Walker, was the guest. Phil asked him why the public reads scandal rags like the Enquirer. Walker’s answer was that people like to read that the rich and famous are unhappy, despite fame and fortune.

As I’ve grown older, I have learned that the truth usually falls in the middle, people deserve empathy, and that movie stars are not gods and goddesses, but all too human, too. And I think Frances Farmer deserves to be remembered for who she actually was.
Frances Farmer in 'Come and Get It,' before stardom slipped through her hands.
FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 


Friday, February 2, 2018

Now, Voyager 1942

Bette Davis in her greatest sympathetic role, as Charlotte Vale, in 1942's 'Now, Voyager.'

Warner Brothers’ most famous slogan for their top star, Bette Davis, stuck with her: “Nobody’s as good as Bette when she’s bad!” However, Now, Voyager is proof that nobody’s as good as Bette when she’s “good,” as well.
Bette's critics claim that Davis only shines when playing showy villainesses. True, some of Bette’s very best roles were bad to the bone, like Of Human Bondage, Jezebel, The Letter, The Little Foxes, and Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Bette Davis as browbeaten and beetle-browed old maid Charlotte Vale.

Now, Voyager shows that Davis could be just as brilliant playing a sympathetic, complex role. Bette’s Charlotte Vale goes from a neurotic spinster to a stylish but insecure socialite to finally, a self-assured, independent woman. Davis takes Vale through an emotional minefield: a monster mother, a kind but married lover, and a rich but dull fiancĂ©e. And Davis’ character evolves every step of the way. Even after her “cure,” Charlotte is still uncertain, a voyager in uncharted waters. Had this been a MGM production, with Joan Crawford or Norma Shearer, Charlotte Vale would have been fine and dandy after her therapy and makeover!
Paul Henreid as Jerry meets Bette Davis' Charlotte Vale on an ocean cruise. Yes, their journey becomes romantic!

Though Now, Voyager’s plot is pure soap, the story still resonates with emotional truth and empathy. Bette Davis once wrote that she never received as much fan mail as she did for Now, Voyager, with people writing about their own tyrannical family members.
Now, Voyager is classic '40s cinema, yet certain attitudes are forward-thinking. Though some critics at the time complained that the finale reeked of soapy self-sacrifice, Charlotte’s decision to remain a single woman, instead of marrying for convenience, and enjoy what happiness she can, seems smart to me. Most significant is that Now, Voyager may be the first film to deal with psychiatry in a serious way.
Gladys Cooper is great as monstrous mother Mrs. Vale, to Bette's daughter.

At the core of Now, Voyager are two great performances, by Bette as the oppressed daughter Charlotte, and Gladys Cooper as the overbearing matriarch, Mrs. Vale. Davis, never afraid to look bad for a role, is an overweight, frumpy, beetle-browed old maid at the film’s beginning. Davis makes the metamorphosis from spinster Charlotte to stylish social butterfly, with the help of her great WB crew: Orry-Kelly’s brilliant costumes; Sol Polito’s beautiful cinematography; Perc Westmore’s expert makeup; and Maggie Donovan’s hairstyles.  
The other classic performance is by Gladys Cooper, as the monstrous mother, Mrs. Vale. Cooper was 54 at the time, but plays the aged Boston society woman with malice and occasional high-handed humor. I’m always riveted by Cooper’s Mrs. Vale, especially in the scenes where she browbeats poor Charlotte. Gladys Cooper gives a fully-dimensional performance, and is a great foil to Davis’ beleaguered heroine. No surprise then that Davis and Cooper were both Oscar-nominated.
Claude Rains, superb as always, as no-nonsense Doctor Jaquith.

However, the entire cast of Now, Voyager is terrific. Claude Rains as Doctor Jaquith is another one of his great star character roles. In an era of typecasting, Rains was so lucky to have reigned with the complex roles he got to play. His Doctor Jaquith is sympathetic but strong-minded, speaking his mind to the bully mother, while gently keeping the daughter on course. Paul Henreid earned his leading man stripes in Now, Voyager as Jerry, the married man saddled with a witch of a wife. Henreid has never been as warm and appealing as he is here—Paul and Bette make a memorably mature couple. I recall reading that Davis said she thought Charlotte would continue working with Doctor Jaquith, a lovely thought.
Ilka Chase and Bonita Granville are bright spots as always, as Vale family members who watch Charlotte's transformation with amazement.
Bette Davis with scene-stealer Mary Wickes as wickedly funny nurse, Dora.

A special shout out to Mary Wickes, who made her film debut in 1942, in six movies! The classic character comedienne plays Dora, the no-nonsense, sassy nurse who expertly deals with the cranky Mrs. Vale. Wickes' trademark humor took off from here, working all the way to her death in 1995, in Postcards from the Edge, Little Women, and the Sister Act movies. This is also one of three films she made with Davis—The Man Who Came to Dinner and June Bride, as well as Now, Voyager. Charlotte’s classic line to the crafty nurse, who runs interference: “Dora, I suspect you’re a treasure.”
And on a Michigan note, a nod to one-time Detroit TV 50 movie host, Bill Kennedy, who had a bit role as Hamilton Hunneker. He’s the polo player who escorts Davis' Charlotte off the cruise ship. Kennedy looks handsome in a Robert Taylor type of way, charming in his cameo role—certainly more appealing than wooden John Loder, who plays Bette’s prospective groom.
Now, Voyager is of the most romantic movies of the ‘40s, helped immeasurably by Max Steiner’s lovely score. The refrain became the hit song, ‘It Can’t Be Wrong,’ a wartime favorite. Steiner won an Oscar for his work here. Irving Rapper directs stylishly and Casey Robinson’s screenplay is filled with memorable lines. Now, Voyager is Warner Brothers’ studio era filmmaking cooking on all burners.
After the cinematic Cinderella makeover: Bette rarely appeared more beautiful on film.

The final scene of Now, Voyager is one of the most memorable in movies: Jerry lights two cigarettes, for both Charlotte and himself, while musing over their romantic dilemma. Charlotte replies, as the camera sweeps out the window, into the night sky: “Oh, Jerry, don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.”
No matter how many times I watch that scene, my heart always melts. Now, Voyager is a movie trip well worth taking.
The stars shine brightly in 'Now, Voyager.'
FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page.