SEPARATE TABLES

Rita Hayworth and Burt Lancaster

SEPARATE TABLES (1958). Director: Delbert Mann.

"I have no curiosity about the working classes." -- Mrs. Railton-Bell.

"Being alone in a crowd -- it's so painful ... frightening." -- Ann Shankland.

At the seaside Beauregard Hotel in Bournemouth, England -- where several people are permanent residents -- certain little dramas are unfolding. The highly snobbish Mrs. Railton-Bell (Gladys Cooper) has discovered the inappropriate behavior of Major Angus Pollock (David Niven), who has bored everyone with fictional stories of his allegedly heroic wartime exploits. Mrs. R-B gathers the other residents to vote on whether or not to insist that the man be thrown out of the hotel. Mrs. R-B's neurotically shy daughter, Sibyl (Deborah Kerr), who is exceptionally fond of the major, undergoes an emotional crisis when she learns of his illicit activities. Meanwhile, the proprietress, Pat Cooper (Wendy Hiller), who has become the lover of American resident John Malcolm (Burt Lancaster), discovers that his ex-wife, Ann (Rita Hayworth) is still in love with him and has taken a room in the hotel.   

David Niven and Deborah Kerr

Separate Tables was originally two plays by Terence Rattigan, sharing several supporting characters, that took place in the same location and were presented together on one evening in the theater, Although Rattigan was importuned to change this before the play debuted, the Major was originally a closeted homosexual and not a pervert who bothered women in a movie theater. (Although the movie is quite sympathetic to the major, it's a question how this would play in these post- MeToo days.) 

Separate tables indeed

The two plays have been intelligently put together and opened up (but not too much) and the film never appears stage bound or too talky, undoubtedly because Rattigan's dialogue is often excellent and perceptive. David Niven won a Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal and Deborah Kerr, who is outstanding, should have won but was only nominated. (Niven is quite good but a cut below Kerr. Hiller won Best Supporting Actress but was surprised by this, as she isn't onscreen very long and complained that her best scenes were cut.) Playing a comparatively superficial if vulnerable character, Rita Hayworth is effective as Ann, as is Burt Lancaster, although he really can't compare to some of these venerable British actors. Gladys Cooper and Cathleen Nesbitt as her friend are exemplary, as are Hiller, Felix Aylmer as Mr. Fowler, and Mary Hallatt as the brisk and self-sufficient Miss Meacham. Rod Taylor and Audrey Dalton have the thankless roles of a young couple temporarily staying in the hotel, their lines undoubtedly cut back to make room for the emoting of Hayworth and Lancaster.  Delbert Mann also directed the beautiful Middle of the Night and many others. 

Verdict: Superior British drama with some excellent performances. ***1/4. 

THE YELLOW ROLLS ROYCE

Alain Delon and Shirley MacLaine

THE YELLOW ROLLS ROYCE (1964). Director: Anthony Asquith. Screenplay by Terence Rattigan

"Oh, God. How I'm going to hate living from now on."

This is a trio of tales loosely tied to the same beautiful title automobile -- copulation occurs in the back seat of the rolls in each story, but even that doesn't make this picture entertaining. Surely a movie built around such a premise could have turned out better than this, but it's as if playwright Rattigan [The Browning Version] decided to throw together scrips and scraps from his discarded idea book to come up with this mess. The first story, starring Rex Harrison [My Fair Lady] as a member of the Foreign Office, is easily the best, and even manages to be somewhat moving in its tale of Harrison being cuckolded by his wife (Jeanne Moreau) and her lover (Edmund Purdom), who works with Harrison, on the day he should be happiest. The second and worst story has to do with a gangster (George C. Scott) traveling in Italy with his moll (Shirley MacLaine) who encounter a handsome man (Alain Delon) who makes tips selling photos to tourists; you can guess what happens. This exercise in tedium can't even be saved by the actors (including Art Carney as Scott's Man Friday) and has a flat wind up to boot. Delon and MacLaine have little chemistry. The third and last story is a contrived bit of business in which a fussy and wealthy woman (Ingrid Bergman) agrees to take a Yugoslav (Omar Sharif) across the border to aid his king and country just as the Germans are attacking. This termagant has more intestinal fortitude than anyone would ever have imagined, but her romance with Sharif is unconvincing, to say the least. (It would have been even less convincing had the more appropriate Katharine Hepburn been cast, as one critic suggested). Bergman is miscast, Scott [The Exorcist III] is excellent as the mobster, Delon succeeds at being charming, Moreau is creditable, and Harrison, with that stiff British upper lip, underplays quite satisfactorily. The best performance, however, is given by a winning and credible Sharif.

Verdict: The first episode is good, but the last two make two hours seem like ten. *1/2.

THE BROWNING VERSION (1951)

Brian Smith and Michael Redgrave

THE BROWNING VERSION (1951). Director: Anthony Asquith. Screenplay by Terence Rattigan, based on his stage play.

Andrew Crocker-Harris (Michael Redgrave), a teacher at a boy's school, is having a pretty lousy day. Ill health has necessitated his going to another school with less strenuous duties, but he may not be given a pension. His bitter wife, Millie (Jean Kent), is having an affair with another teacher, Frank (Nigel Patrick). And Andrew is beginning to realize that his attitude towards his students, brought about by his disappointment in life, marriage and career achievements, has turned him into a stuffy, rather unpleasant fellow whose students call "Himmler." Yet there is a young boy named Taplow (Brian Smith) whose compassion for the older man might be his saving grace ... The Browning Film is a rare gem, one of those beautiful movies that gives you hardly anything to quibble about. Although Michael Redgrave [Dead of Night] at first seems to be bordering on caricature, channeling Richard Haydn, he actually gives a wonderful and touching performance. The second best performance is from young Brian Smith, who essays a kindly, decent fellow who is wise beyond his years. Years ago Andrew began a new translation of Agamemnon and Taplow gives him a copy of "The Browning Version," translated by Robert Browning. Patrick and Kent [The Prince and the Showgirl] are also quite good as the dissatisfied lovers, with Frank ultimately ashamed of his actions, and neglected Millie unable to cope with the fact that her husband wanted companionship and she wanted much more. There's also nice work from Ronald Howard [Black Orchid] as Gilbert, who will take over Andrew's teaching duties, and Wilfrid Hyde-White as the headmaster. All aspects of the production are superior. Young Brian Smith, who was 19 but looked much younger, amassed sixty credits after completing this picture. Remade with Albert Finney in 1994.

Verdict: Beautiful and moving classic movie. ****.

GOODBYE, MR. CHIPS (1969)

     

Petula Clark wonders what she ever saw in Mr. Chips?

 GOODBYE, MR. CHIPS (1969). Director:    Herbert Ross. Screenplay by Terence      Rattigan.

 "Yesterday I was their age. Tomorrow they'll    be my age. Sooner, much sooner, than they  know."

  This version of the classic film Goodbye, Mr.    Chips adds technicolor, panavision, music and lyrics, as well as a half hour to the running time, and it still can't compare to the original. Although he gives it -- pardon me -- the old college try,  Peter O'Toole is gravely miscast as Mr. Chipping. His performance has some good moments, but by and large he fails to make Mr. Chips anything more than an old fuddy duddy that would hardly endear himself to students, women, or anyone else. In the original, Robert Donat was a fuddy duddy, yes, but he imbued the character with warmth, charm, and humanity, things O'Toole completely lacks. Surprisingly, Petula Clark, better known as the pop singer of "Downtown" and other hits but who also had an acting career, gives a sharp and confident and believable performance as Chips' wife, the colorful entertainer, Katherine. In the original film, Chips' wife, played by Greer Garson, was another more or less genteel soul (although more outgoing than her husband) so her union with Chips never seemed implausible. But in this remake, one can't ever imagine the free-spirited Katherine seriously hooking up with the dense, stuffy and altogether unpleasant school teacher, Chips. If the on-camera relationship works, it's strictly because of Clark. The only scene in this movie that ever comes close to having the quality of the original version is when Chips is in the classroom when he discovers his wife has died -- not in childbirth as in the first movie, but blown up by a German bomb. Otherwise, this movie is not very moving (not even the aforementioned scene, frankly) and seems to do everything it can to avoid even honest sentiment. Except for one incident, WW1 is glossed over as if it hardly happened and Mrs. Chips might just as well have been killed in a car accident. The songs, with both music and lyrics by Leslie Bricusse, (John Williams also contributed to the score), are hit or miss. There's a lovely boys chorus early in the picture, and an excellent "London is London" production number when Katherine appears in a stage musical before meeting Chips, some mildly pretty ditties, but with few exceptions the lyrics are trite and cliche-ridden. Petula Clark has a perfectly good voice, but O'Toole should have been strongly importuned to have his singing dubbed -- he is, in a word, awful. Herbert Ross' [The Last of Sheila] direction is fairly leaden and it is an effort to even sit through this all the way to the conclusion. Michael Redgrave is okay but nearly invisible as the headmaster; Sian Phillips [Becket] scores as Katherine's friend, the pixilated Ursula Mossbank; as does Michael Bryant [The Ruling Class] as fellow teacher, Max; and there is some very nice work from the boys, especially Michael Culver, Tom Owen, and John Gugolka.

Verdict: Pretty bad remake that seems to get worse the longer it goes on. **.

THE WINSLOW BOY (1948)

THE WINSLOW BOY (1948). Director: Anthony Asquith. Screenplay by Terence Rattigan, from his play.

Retired for health reasons, Arthur Winslow (Cedric Hardwicke) is disturbed to learn that his 12-year-old son Ronnie (Neil North) has been thrown out of the Royal Naval Cadets on a charge of stealing. Ronnie insists that he is innocent, and his father believes him -- and becomes increasingly angry at the fact that his son was never given a real chance to defend himself in a trial. Enter solicitor Sir Robert Morton (Robert Donat) a heavyweight who decides to take the case-- after grilling the boy intensely, almost savagely -- but the first hurdle will be to get past the fact that it is unheard of to, in effect, sue the Queen. We see the effect all the publicity has on the rest of the family, especially sister Catherine (Margaret Leighton) who may lose her fiance over the brouhaha. Even Ronnie's mother wonders if it's worth the financial cost and everything else to pursue the matter. The film works up quite a bit of suspense in wondering what will happen and what the outcome of the trial -- if there is one -- will be.

The Winslow Boy is the real deal. The characters are real, living, breathing, three-dimensional human beings, not stereotypes (even Morton, who at first does come off as a "type"). The acting by the entire cast is uniformly excellent, with Donat and Hardwicke neck and neck in the competition for most superb performance. And the movie rivets your attention from start to finish. Composer William Alwyn has contributed an almost [Richard] Straussian score. If I have any quibble with the film it's that I wish we were shown more details of the trial, considering the circumstances. NOTE: There was a creditable remake in 1999 as well as at least two television versions.

Verdict: Pounce! ****.