I know of no
other movie in cinema history that can justly be considered both as perfect
entertainment and as nourishment for the nation’s collective soul. But director
William Wyler’s The Best Years of Our
Lives (1946) is arguably both - its poignantly disquieting critique of the
changing American landscape G.I.s faced upon their return from WWII resonating
with audiences then and delivering a potent message that time has been
powerless to disavow since. By 1946 Hollywood’s interpretation of the war had
decidedly shifted from more glamorous fare like Mrs. Miniver (1942) and Since
You Went Away (1944) to frank and sobering reflections. The harshest
realities would not surface on celluloid for a few decades more, perhaps
because the Hollywood moguls wisely perceived that those who had lived through
the hardship wanted to place their painful memories in the past and move
forward.
However, the
transition from war to peace time would prove anything but smooth for thousands
of returning veterans. Grittier critiques (Twelve
O’Clock High 1949) examining the psychological fallout of war would all
come later. But The Best Years of Our
Lives captures the truthful essence of that hopeful anxiety facing the
conquering hero; his re-assimilation into a complacent civilian world, perhaps even
misplaced as a distant dream, already moved on without him.
Written by
Robert E. Sherwood and Mackinlay Kantor, The
Best Years of Our Lives charts this bittersweet and occasionally very
awkward period of transition with frankness, honesty and a sense of empathy. Director
William Wyler had the original ailment of post-traumatic stress syndrome shifted
from the character of Homer Parrish, the sailor, to Fred Derry, the pilot
bombardier and then actively sought out Harold Russell – a real life double
amputee – for the role of Homer; the only non-actor in the film’s ensemble
cast. Russell’s performance proved so enigmatic as the linchpin of the story
that he won two Oscars; one for Best Supporting Actor, the other an honorary
statuette in acknowledgement of his extraordinary bravery in bringing social
acceptance about for the physically disabled.
The three
service men whose lives become intertwined once their uniforms have been
shelved in mothballs are bombardier Fred Derry (Dana Andrews), platoon
sergeant, Al Stephenson (Fredric March) and sailor Homer Parrish (Harold
Russell); men of varying social backgrounds brought together in the twilight’s
last gleaming after D-Day as they travel back to their home town of Boone City
in the nose of a B-52. Anxious for different reasons, Homer, Fred and Al
quietly observe the relatively unchanged landscape of their home town by air,
taking comfort in the fact that most of what they see is sweetly familiar. But
the similarities witnessed from above are, of course, superficial and cosmetic.
For upon closer inspection at ground level it becomes immediately apparent that
the community around them has changed, the ground beneath their feet having
shifted further still.
Fred and Al
are quietly impressed by Homer’s agility, and perhaps even more with his seeming
sunny outward optimism. Despite the loss of both hands from burns sustained
after his aircraft carrier was sunk, Homer is able to sign his name with a pen,
carry his own duffle bag, and even light a cigarette using his prosthetic metal
hooks. After their plane ride, the boys share a cab. Homer points out Butch’s
Bar – an old haunt owned by his uncle that he, Fred and Al vow to return to
once they have settled into their old lives. But as the cab approaches Homer’s
address his confidence drains. He nervously suggests they turn around and have
a drink at the bar now, before ‘going home’. Al wisely forces Homer out, saying
“You are home, soldier.” But Fred
delays the cab a moment as Homer is reunited with his aged parents (Walter Baldwin
and Minna Gombell) and former sweetheart Wilma Cameron (played to winsome
perfection by newcomer, Cathy O’Donnell).
Al’s reunion
with his family is no less poignant. He is met at the front door by his stunned
and tearful daughter, Peggy (Teresa Wright) and overjoyed son, Rob (Michael
Hall); encouraging both to keep his arrival a secret from their mother, Milly
(Myrna Loy) until she suddenly becomes aware of the deafening silence in the
next room, emerging from the kitchen with her simple joy fulfilled at being
reunited with her husband.
The least
welcome of all the homecomings is Fred’s; returning to a cramped little shack
he once shared with Marie (Virginia Mayo); the war bride he married on the fly
while still in basic training. Marie is a heartless creature, more enamored
with Fred as a flyer than she is with him as a man – even less so when he
informs her that due to limited employment opportunities he is returning to his
former career as a drug store soda jerk. Marie, who has since become a cocktail
waitress at a nightclub, is accustomed to high times and wild parties. She
wants excitement, money and uninhibited fun; tangibles that Fred can neither
afford or finds particularly unattractive since his sobering return from the
war.
Al’s future is
hardly as bleak. In fact, the bank where he once worked has offered to
reinstate him with a promotion and a raise, viewing his war record as an asset
when dealing with other vets seeking loans from the bank. Al gratefully accepts
this position, but like his two contemporaries, has already begun to suffer
from some deep seeded social angst. In Al’s case, he manages to console his
reoccurring fears with alcohol. When the bank decides to hold a dinner in his
honor, Al regrettably arrives mildly inebriated but still manages to impart an
eloquent speech that champions the bank aligning its interests to help servicemen
rebuild their lives in a country whose precepts they defended in the war.
Meanwhile, the
relationship between Homer and his parents becomes strained. Mrs. Parrish in
particular cannot bring herself to anything but tearful frustrations over the
loss of her son’s hands while Homer’s father seems unable to articulate his
worried confusion beyond evasive reflections about the past. Although engaged
to Wilma before the war, Homer now encourages her to leave him and seek her
happiness elsewhere. But Wilma has been in love with Homer for many years. The
loss of his hands has not changed her affections and she remains steadfast in
her devotion – not out of a sense of pity or even moral duty – but from a
genuineness and unerring love that Homer is reluctant to realize as pure of
heart.
Peggy and Fred
accidentally meet after she arrives to collect her father from Butch’s Bar
where the three old buddies have reunited to drink themselves into oblivion. On
the surface Fred pretends that his life is solid and secure. But nightly he
suffers from terrors and sweats that Marie is unable, or perhaps unwilling to
tolerate. Fred takes comfort from Peggy, who finds Marie utterly shallow. An
unexpected spark of romance kindles between Peggy and Fred. This infuriates Al
and he orders Fred to stop seeing his daughter.
Realizing that
Al only has Peggy’s best interests at heart, Fred reluctantly agrees to steer
clear of her, but thereafter begins to resent Al’s self-righteousness. Homer
comes to the drug store where Fred is working, but is dealt a blow by an
obnoxious customer who suggests that the war was fought against the wrong
enemy. An altercation ensues and Fred loses his job as a result. Afterward Fred
and Homer share a heart to heart and Fred, ever loyal and encouraging, tells
Homer he should marry Wilma with all speed. Fred even offers to be Homer’s best
man.
However, upon
returning home in the middle of the day, Fred discovers Marie locked in a
passionate embrace with Cliff (Steve Cochran). Marie tells Fred that she has
decided to divorce him because he is a failure – at least, in her books.
Briefly believing this snap assessment himself, Fred tosses his father (Roman
Bohnen) the various medals and citations he earned during the war, glibly
suggesting that they were “passed out
with the K-rations”. Realizing what a war hero his son is Mr. Derry
encourages Fred to remain in town. But Fred wants out and fast. He books
himself on a waiting list for the first outbound plane to anywhere, but then
takes a side trip to the nearby war airplane graveyard where vivid memories of
combat leave him momentarily despondent.
When Fred is
interrupted by the boss of the work crew salvaging the aircraft’s aluminum for
scrap, he finesses his way into a job to help with the disassembly. Having resurrected his future from the ashes,
Fred decides to pursue Peggy once more. Meanwhile, Wilma tells Homer that her
parents have decided to send her away, presumably to forget him. At first,
Homer believes this is the best for all concerned, but when Wilma makes it
pointedly clear that her place is with him, Homer realizes how much she still
loves him and agrees to marry her.
True to his
word, Fred stands up for Homer in the wedding. Newly divorced, Fred eyes Peggy
from across the room during the service and later, he and Al reach a tentative
reconciliation in their fractured friendship. Fred approaches Peggy with the
understanding that it may be years before he can find true comfort in civilian
life; but reassesses that none of it will mean anything if she is not at his
side. The honest gesture is enough. Peggy smiles and kisses Fred, the promise
of their life together finally secured.
The Best Years of Our Lives is a
flawless, unvarnished masterpiece; perfectly scripted and peerless in its acting. It
remains the cinematic touchstone by which all other home front melodramas are
judged. The real magic of the film is that it seems more genuine than
manufactured; its’ mid-town America backdrop palpably atmospheric and true to
life. Director William Wyler evokes the heartfelt without veering into
sentimental treacle. None of his actors overplay their hand. Of the lot, Dana
Andrews and Teresa Wright strike a perfect chord; symbolic of the ‘new
American’ optimism about what the future may bring. Cathy O’Donnell’s screen
debut is as impressive; her sad-eyed tenderness the perfect foil for Harold
Russell’s wounded pride. Is it any wonder then that The Best Years of Our Lives took home Best Picture honors at the
Academy Awards?
Warner Home
Video’s pathetic reissue on DVD is a ‘money grab’ if ever I saw one. There had been rumors that The Best Years of Our Lives was being gussied
up for a Blu-ray release. That would have been much appreciated because The Best Years of Our Lives has never
looked anything but utterly abysmal on DVD. I recall purchasing the title back
in 1997 when HBO was distributing the movie. But then the Samuel Goldwyn
library fell into the holdings of MGM and then MGM/Fox, who wasted no time
re-issuing the same tired old transfer over and over again.
Contrast is
blown out with stark whites and a loss of mid-register gray scale. A ton of age
related artifacts intrude as does some rather heavy edge enhancement. Are there
any improvements over previous editions on DVD? NO!!! Warner has merely lopped
off the old MGM/Fox logos, added a new FBI warning and redressed the keep case
cover art to reflect the DVD reissue as part of their Samuel Goldwyn library.
What a crock and a sham! The audio is
mono and adequate, though hardly exceptional. We get two tired snippets, billed
as interviews with Virginia Mayo and Teresa Wright and an even more
pathetically worn theatrical trailer. For shame! For Shame, and decidedly not
recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
1
EXTRAS
1
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