Saying goodbye to the First Lady of Hollywood’s golden age.
The Archivist — Welcome to the Archive. As home video formats have evolved over the years, a multitude of films have found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Manufacture-On-Demand DVD operation devoted to thousands of idiosyncratic and ephemeral works of cinema. The Archive has expanded to include a streaming service, revivals of out-of-print DVDs, and factory pressed Blu-ray discs. Join us as we explore this treasure trove of cinematic discovery!
There have been a number of tributes which have expectedly and rightfully come out in honor of Olivia de Havilland’s passing last month at the age of 104. Possibly the final true emblem of the golden age of Hollywood, de Havilland was one of the last who could share stories about the likes of Errol Flynn, Bette Davis and recall the experience of making Gone with the Wind. With two Oscars to her name (among a slew of other awards which I’ve no doubt took up their fair share of space in her magnificent Paris home), it’s safe to say that de Havilland was an actress whose style and technique remains uniquely her own. So many titles come to mind when de Havilland’s name is brought up, owing to both her versatility and willingness to challenge herself as an actress. For me, the beauty of Hold Back the Dawn (for which she was also Oscar-nominated) and the southern gothic mood of Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte make for stellar movies in their own right, but are greatly heightened by the actress’s undeniable talent. Check out my past pieces to both films here and here.
Whether it was Gone with the Wind, The Adventures of Robin Hood, In This Our Life, or The Snake Pit, de Havilland never ceased to command the screen in a way which all but enlivened whatever film she was in as the actress brought empathy and devotion to every character she took on. In honor of the great Olivia de Havilland, we here at The Archivist have decided to pay tribute to her with some thoughts on her work in 1959’s Libel and 1962’s Light in the Piazza, both sterling performances from a remarkable actress.
Libel (1959)
Based on the acclaimed stage play, Libel tells the story of Sir Mark Loddon (Dirk Bogarde), a highly-regarded member of London’s upper class who is married to the beautiful American Margaret (de Havilland). While the two live a happy life as members of high society, the pair’s marriage is suddenly rocked by the appearance of Jeffrey Buckenham (Paul Massie), who insists that he served with Mark Loddon during WW2 and that the man married to Margaret is an impostor. The claim results in a scandal which erupts in a headline-grabbing case in with everyone, especially Margaret, wondering if the man on the witness stand really is Mark Loddon.
Libel is one of those hidden gems that truly offers plenty for fans of dramatic mysteries and classic films. The story itself is a carefully executed mystery with surprising layer after layer that causes everyone watching to question what they’ve seen and what they think they know. In fact, not until Libel’s final moments can the audience truly trust what they’ve seen and the outcome the characters arrive at. The film is also perhaps one of the best portraits of a post-WW2 England. Shot in the late 50s when the country was knee-deep in trying to repair itself following the war, the clinging to the continuation of tradition and every day life is apparent in scene after scene.
Meanwhile, the emotional effects of the war play out brilliantly throughout the story, especially where the damaged Mark is concerned. The appearance of a surprise witness also drives this point home in a stark illustration. Bogarde is great in a dual role, but it’s de Havilland who surprises in what could have come across as an underwritten part. Seeing Margaret stand by the man she loves, refusing to let any questioning or doubt invade her is spellbinding to behold in de Havilland’s hands. The actress nails all of her “impassioned speech” scenes with seeming ease, but nothing is more powerful than her moments in court as she tries to fight her greatest fear.
Light in the Piazza (1962)
Most know Light in the Piazza as the dreamy and romantic Broadway musical, but far too many don’t know the dreamy and romantic movie from which it came. Shot on location in Italy, Light in the Piazza centers on Meg Johnson (de Havilland), an average American housewife traveling with her daughter Clara (Yvette Mimeixu) throughout Europe. When Clara meets a charming local from a well-to-do family named Fabrizio (George Hamilton), there’s no stopping the romance that quickly develops between them. However, Meg is weary of her daughter’s newfound love due to a childhood accident which left Clara mentally challenged. While Meg gradually warms up to this newfound romance, she wonders if love really is possible for her daughter.
I do sincerely wish movies like Light in the Piazza came around more often than they do. The movie is so whimsical and full of charm without having to try that hard at either. The stunning locales, the chemistry between the actors (Hamilton, especially, is so endearing) and the way the movie alternates between plot, character and moments of beautiful pensiveness all makes for the kind of winning and delightful experience lovers of vintage cinema crave. There’s also a braveness to Light in the Piazza regarding the way it treats the character of Clara and her condition. Never once does the movie dismiss her or use her disability for cheap effect. Instead it chooses to show her as a young woman in love with both life and the Italian young man smitten with her.
Part of what helps to see Clara as a fully-fleshed character is through the journey of Meg. As played by de Havilland, Meg is a woman who has spent the majority of her time as a mother atoning for whatever part she feels she played in her daughter’s mental condition. The shots of de Havilland strolling around the streets of Italy not only make for some lovely visual moments, but the way she emotes Meg’s feelings about letting go of not just her daughter, but of the guilt and worry she’s carried with her for most of Clara’s life results in one of the actress’s most poetic and poignant turns as well as the soul of the movie.
Libel and Light in the Piazza are both available on DVD from Warner Archive.
