dir. Frank Borzage
writ. Jo Swerling, play by Lawrence Hazard
feat. Spencer Tracy, Loretta Young, Marjorie Rambeau, Glenda Farrell, Walter Connolly, Arthur Hohl
Another gem from the early 30s that depicts an unexpected side of life. Bill (Tracy) and Trina (Young) meet on a park bench, Trina alone and not for sale though starving, while Bill wears a tux, tossing popcorn to pigeons. Abandon all presumptions as what follows tosses the audience on its collective ear. Bill is a wanderer, picking up odd jobs (I'll save you explanation of the tux for your own viewing pleasure), living in shantytowns, then moving on, a free spirit, untamed and alive. Trina has no such rambler ambitions, preferring some security, at least a roof over her head, and if possible, Bill to come home to her each night.
Bill is wary of the long-term relationship, quick to criticize Trina for being too skinny, too late now for her ever to look like a proper woman. He dishes out the criticism all too eagerly, the couple's own form of foreplay, Trina deftly parrying while Bill assures himself that he hasn't committed to anything permanent. But love is a patient suitor, and Bill finds himself smitten if conflicted, slowly sliding down the path to homebody, the gleaming white presence of a new stove a potent reminder of the life he might be giving up.
Ultimately, the film turns playful, finding a path so that Bill may have his cake and eat it too, perhaps unrealistic but fitting of the oddly enchanting dream that the picture weaves.
No comments:
Post a Comment