ONE TOO MANY

Ruth Warrick contemplates her next drink

ONE TOO MANY (1950). Director: Erle C. Kenton.

Helen Mason (Ruth Warrick of Guest in the House) was once a well-known concert pianist who gave it up when she married reporter Bob (Richard Travis of The Man Who Came to Dinner) and had a daughter named Ginger (Ginger Prince). She has substituted booze for her career while Bob is what Dr. Phil would call an "enabler." Helen is convinced she is not an alcoholic and can get off the sauce without going to AA. But in this she is kidding herself. Helen and Bob find their lives spiraling out of control as Helen not only continues to drink but to drive drunk, endangering herself, her daughter, and everyone else on the road ... 

The Harmonaires pad out the running time

One Too Many probably has its heart in the right place although its polemical approach to the material is not as dramatic as intended. Much of the movie has Bob and others arguing that alcoholism is a disease that needs treatment and special hospital wings, dismissing the notion that all addicts are just weak-willed drunks of low character. Unfortunately these sequences turn the movie into a lecture that makes some good points but is not terribly entertaining. Strangely, the movie is padded with a long concert sequence at the end when the black group the Harmonaires do three numbers, and Warrick plays "The Minute Waltz" and a more contemporary number on the piano in a nightclub. 

An enabler? Richard Travis

Warrick gives a good performance in this although she's not the kind of riveting actress who can give an added bite to the picture a la Stanwyck or Crawford. Travis is, as usual, likable and pleasant and laid-back even when his world seems to be falling apart. William Tracy, who plays a photographer, is given a long, tedious sequence -- more padding -- as he waits outside the window in the maternity ward where his wife is having a baby. Ginger Prince is a talented child actress who can also sing and dance. Rhys Williams, Mary Young, Thurston Hall, and Victor Kilian are all good as Sully the bartender and his wife, newspaper publisher Simes, who hates drunks, and Emery, a mayoral candidate who gets caught in an inebriated state in a bar. Larry J. Blake is fine as Helen's old friend, bandleader Walt Williams. Erm Westmore appears briefly to give Warrick a makeover. Little did audiences of 1950 know that the scourge of drugs would almost replace alcoholism as a social ill. Erle C. Kenton also directed Why Men Leave Home, which also has Westmore and Prince in it and is even worse. From Hallmark. 

Verdict: A long commercial for AA -- a cocktail might help. **. 

THE LOST WEEKEND

Belly up to the bar, boys! Ray Milland

THE LOST WEEKEND (1945). Director: Billy Wilder.

Feeling himself a failure as a writer, and living off his brother, Wick (Phillip Terry of Hold That Kiss), Don Birnam (Ray Milland) has become, in his brother's words, a "hopeless drunk" His girlfriend of three years, Helen (Jane Wyman of Johnny Belinda), refuses to give up on Don, and does her best to help him. But even when he winds up in an alcoholic ward and later gets the DT's and has scary visions, he still won't stop drinking. Will Helen be able to get through to him, to get him to let his better self come through, or is he doomed?

The Lost Weekend is based on the autobiographical novel by Charles Jackson. Although Jackson married and had children, late in life he identified as bisexual and moved in with a male lover. This aspect of his life, and the fact that self-hatred over his homosexuality added to his distress and undoubtedly contributed to his drinking, is, of course, completely unexplored in this 1940's movie. The only thing that is mildly homoerotic in the picture is an obnoxious male nurse, Bim (well-played by Frank Faylen), in the alcoholic ward. Jackson wrote other works after Lost Weekend, but none were ever as successful as his first, and, although the movie intimates that Birnam will overcome his addictions, that was, sadly, not the case in real life. In 1968 he committed suicide.

Phillip Terry, Jane Wyman, Ray Milland

Still, The Lost Weekend is a memorable film with some first-class performances. Ray Milland, who is generally excellent, won the Best Actor Oscar. (The film also won for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay [Wilder and Charles Brackett] and Best Cinematography [John F. Seitz of the silent Four Horseman of the Apocalypse].) Phillip Terry, one of Joan Crawford's cast-off husbands, had a rare opportunity in a "A" picture and delivers a solid job in probably his most memorable role. Jane Wyman is as sympathetic and adept as ever. Howard Da Silva scores as the bartender, Nat, as do Doris Dowling as the barfly Gloria and Mary Young as Birnam's landlady, Mrs. Deveridge.

An interesting aspect of the picture is that, as played by Milland, Birnam often seems arrogant about his drinking and his life, as if the world owes him a living. In a sequence when Birnam steals a woman's purse in a restaurant, he seems to smirk as if he's gotten away with something, as opposed to his being ashamed and humiliated by his actions. This suggests that Birnam has character failings that have little to do with his drinking.

Jane Wyman

The film has some notable sequences, such as when Birnam sits at a performance of La Traviata, and the opera's famous brindisi (or drinking song) sequence only reminds him of the bottle of hootch he left in his jacket at the coat check and he has to leave to get a drink. Then there's his desperate run from pawn shop to pawn shop so he can get money for his typewriter only to learn that all the shops are closed for the Jewish holiday.

As good as the film is, it now has a kind of dated aspect to it. All you have to do is look at one of the episodes of Dr. Phil where he has desperate family members bringing an alcoholic and drug-addicted person on the show for a last chance at help, to realize that a person rarely just decides to stop drinking. The film is sanitized -- what seems horrifying about the debased, pathetic lives of drunks in this film is nothing compared to the reality. As good as Milland is, he rarely looks or acts like a really hard-core drunk despite the DT's and all the rest. As noted, the photography is first-class, as is Miklos Rosza's score, although the music the composer uses to denote, so to speak, "Demon Rum," is a little over the top and sounds like something out of a science fiction movie.

Verdict: The Lost Weekend must still be remembered as probably the first movie to depict alcoholics not as comical drunks but as tormented and addicted individuals. ***