LOVE AMONG THE RUINS: Blu-ray (ABC Circle Films, 1975) Kino Lorber
A joyous meeting of two great thespians, George Cukor’s
1975 made-for-television dramady, Love Among the Ruins is a radiant, if nostalgic
aide-mémoire of just how much has been lost to us with the passage of time,
inevitably to inflict its withering on Hollywood’s golden age of inimitably
great talents. Katharine Hepburn and Sir Laurence Olivier charm the angels down
from the heavens as stalwart lovers from another bygone era in this absolutely absorbing
exercise, reveling in the quaint absurdities of our cultural manners and mores.
In an age where affectation means nothing, and, the very definition of social
graces has been distilled into whether or not one is self-obsessed in the
navel-gazing and maladroit art of ‘tweeting’, Love Among the Ruins
reminds us of a different time – though, arguably, not a simpler one – as human
beings have always been complex creatures of habit. But when one observes Hepburn
and Olivier – two irrefutable artists in their respective mediums, aged – yes,
but otherwise to have not lessened one iota in their level of craftsmanship –
the resultant spectacle of their craft finely wrought together is an experience
neither to be missed nor underappreciated. When in observation of these two,
you really have ‘lived’ a moment, and, been given nothing less than the best
Hollywood once had to offer.
By 1975, a story like Love Among the Ruins
could no longer be conceived for theatrical release. Regrettably so, but quite
simply, the audience was no longer there. Mercifully, they were willing to stay
home and tune into this ABC Circle Films’ production for the BBC, making Love
Among the Ruins one of the irrefutable high-water marks of the broadcast season.
And herein we must pause, at least for a moment, to reconsider the ballast and cache
that a ‘personality’ has to offer the cultural landscape of mass entertainment.
While the argument can be made, Sir Larry Olivier was a great actor – first – his
status as an unassailable dignitary of the film-actor’s profession arrived to second-best,
Kate Hepburn was most unaffectedly and categorically a great ‘temperament’ –
hand-crafted by the studios of yore, and, from a vintage in which such commodities
– though unique unto themselves – were cultivated in Hollywood as ‘a dime a
dozen.’ Yet even then – in 1975, with the bloom of youth long since turned to chalk,
both actors remain in their prime. Real talent, you see, has absolutely nothing
to do with the weathering of the façade through the years. And better still, both
were very much in high demand – the indestructible Hepburn, having only recently
won her 3rd Best Actress Academy Award for The Lion in Winter
(1968), and, with one more yet to come her way, for On Golden Pond
(1981), still a force to be reckoned with – on and off the screen. Arguably,
Hepburn’s Teflon-coated reputation would remain intact until her death in 2003;
a very – very – resilient lady to the end. As for Olivier, he had just put
the finishing touches on ten iconic years at England’s National Theatre where
he created or otherwise contributed to some of the most enduring incarnations
of Shakespearean stagecraft in the ‘then’ modern age of live performance.
In Love Among the Ruins, Olivier is confirmed
old bachelor and barrister, Sir Arthur Granville-Jones – ‘Grannie’ for short, whose
services and cunning are very much sought out by Jessica Medlicott (Hepburn) –
a wealthy socialite and one-time actress who, in her youth, seduced Arthur
while on a theatrical tour in Toronto. He recalls those three absolutely blissful
days through the rose-colored rubric of youthful folly, and, as pure escapist
romance, whereas Jessica feigns absolutely no recollection of them at all. It
ought to have been the beginnings of a life together. Instead, Jessica, fearful
of poverty, fled from his arms, and into an arranged marriage to a prominent
British businessman, very much her senior, and for some time now, deceased –
leaving the widow Medlicott to her most recent folly – a dalliance with
twenty-something opportunist, Alfred Pratt (Leigh Lawson). At present, Pratt is
suing Jessica for ‘breach-of-promise’ as his expectations to marry her –
presumably, strictly for her money (or rather, it and the estate of her late
husband), have crushingly come to not. Reintroduced by her solicitor, George Druce
(Richard Pearson), Sir Arthur is devastated when his initial
investigation of Jessica’s memory appears to yield no such fond afterglows from
their mutual past – even as afterthoughts.
Bitter, Arthur nevertheless takes on the case to
defend Jessica against Pratt’s allegation. At trial, Pratt cleverly expounds upon
the made-up tragedy of his wounded heart and pride, his enterprising mother,
Fanny (Joan Sims), observing as her son spins a yarn of spurned love to the
court. Council for the plaintiff, J. F. Divine (Colin Blakely) is intrigued by
the turn of events, as even he can plainly see his arch rival, Sir Arthur,
harbors certain lingering romantic aims towards his own client. These emotional
attachments present a distinct conflict of interest, surely to muddle Sir
Arthur’s good judgement and reason. Indeed,
at intervals, Sir Arthur appears to doddle, drift and otherwise wander
aimlessly through a collage of forgotten moments from his own past. At one
point in his cross-examination of Jessica’s devoted housemaid, Hermione Davis
(Gwen Nelson) Sir Arthur even appears to be working for the plaintiff –
exposing the reluctant Davis’ ability to recall, almost a moment-by-moment
account of the romantic overtures, encouraged up to a point by Jessica, to have
since inspired Pratt to take up against her mistress. Instructing his client to
dress ‘more discriminately’ as a woman of her years, in order to help influence
the jury, Sir Arthur is disgusted when Jessica instead, defies him by attending
the trial in outfits, increasingly to better reflect her ostentatious and devil-may-care
attitudes about love – the epitome of her lavish absurdity, brought forth in a
fire-engine red gown, trimmed in a plumage of white feathers and plush ivory
boa. To counterbalance Jessica’s desperate pursuit of the specter of youth, Sir
Arthur instructs the jury to reconsider his client for what she truly is – a brittle
stick of kindling, barely recognizable as the voluptuary from his own youth, utterly
shameless in her refusal to accept that the girl who once was has yielded to
the old crone.
Outraged by Sir Arthur’s insinuations, and, the Judge’s
(Robert Harris) total tolerance of this perverse line of interrogation, Jessica
defies Sir Arthur with an outburst of her own. But this, instead, provokes her
physical removal from the courtroom – carried out, literally, kicking and
screaming to an adjacent antechamber. Well aware that, although the lawsuit
itself is not unique, its circumstances - having been brought by the man
against the woman – are, Sir Arthur now begins his deft summation, laying bare
the particulars of the case: that Pratt, far from playing the jilted suitor,
expects to be reimbursed £50,000 in damages, presumably to compensate for his wounded
pride. In fact, he had no such intentions to wed the widow Medlicott, but
rather extort as much money from her as possible – a plot to have backfired,
since, now the matter is to be decided in a court of law. Having seemingly savaged
his own client’s reputation to spare her the indignity of being considered a frivolous
old fool by the prosecution, Sir Arthur now instructs the jury to remember what
time does to all people – externally, at least, to steal their sex appeal, but
otherwise, leave them with more than a trace of that fiery, headstrong desire from
youth to be loved, alas, destined to remain unfulfilled in the passing parade. His
eloquent summation strikes at the heart of the jury, who render a verdict in
Jessica’s favor, thus casting Pratt and his mother out on their ear as
penniless as when they first entered the courtroom.
In the post-trial assessment, Jessica quietly reveals
to George she remembers almost every second she spent with Sir Arthur those
many years ago in Toronto; that, when she encouraged George to hire him on her
behalf, she did so, knowing he too would fondly recall those golden moments of
yore, and thus be a passionate proponent in her defense. She furthermore
confesses to Sir Arthur to never entirely have loved her late husband, whom she
wed out of anxieties about being poor. Although she grew to greatly admire and
respect this man – remaining his dutiful wife for 40-years, in the end, Jessica’s
one true love has remained Sir Arthur Granville-Jones. In revealing the victory
of Jessica’s verdict to her now, Sir Arthur is quietly startled when Jessica
begins to account for the particulars with instant recall from their three
passionate days spent together. Indeed, she remembers the entire weekend as
though it had happened only yesterday. Arthur is immensely affected by her love
and offers Jessica his hand. She lovingly accepts it in kind, the two exiting
the courthouse and strolling down the lane, presumably to pick up where they
left off.
As brilliantly scripted by Emmy Award-winning dramatist,
James
Costigan, Love Among the Ruins is the sort of unvarnished dramedy that,
given to another cast, director, time and place, could so easily have devolved
into a big heap of wordy, melodramatic tripe. The picture is, in fact ‘all-talking’,
the bulk of its stately eloquence to be derived from the superb sparing between
Oliver’s stoic lawyer, rummaging through the reminiscences from his youth with aggrieved
tenderness, and Hepburn’s spry and caustic, razor-back unaffectedness, never anything
less than authentic. Director George Cukor, who must emphatically be noted as
the foremost proponent of such evenly paced cinema story-telling, is undeniably
working with two of the greatest talents of the 20th century. Yet,
Cukor’s contribution cannot be overstated – his expertise in drawing out the
subtleties in their respective performances almost exclusively, sustains our
admiration and interest in this sensitive tale of love reincarnated among these
ruins. The reality of age, to have, with cruel generosity, afflicted not only
the stars – whose ambient sparkle has otherwise not diminished – but also Cukor,
who would die in 1983, after giving to the world a peerless catalog of filmed
entertainments, among the offerings – though by no means a definitive
filmography: 1932’s A Bill of Divorcement, 1933’s Dinner at Eight,
and, Little Women, 1935’s David Copperfield, 1936’s Romeo and
Juliet, and Camille, 1938’s Holiday, 1939’s The Women,
1940’s The Philadelphia Story, 1944’s Gaslight, 1949’s Adam’s
Rib,1950’s Born Yesterday, 1952’s The Marrying Kind, and, Pat
and Mike, 1954’s A Star Is Born, 1964’s My Fair Lady, and,
1981’s Rich and Famous (too many irrefutable masterpieces still MIA on
Blu-ray!), has equally allowed Cukor a glimmer into that sobering clarity to re-examine
love through lens of his own mortality, and, the results herein are bittersweet,
mature, and, immensely gratifying.
While Kate ‘the great’ Hepburn cut her teeth on many a
screwball from the mid-1930’s, Olivier’s métier was almost always assigned to
intensely felt ‘serious’ roles. So, it is even more refreshing to discover each
actor, reigned in and fine-tuned in their strengths to a finite precision, capably
to reach common ground in Costigan’s witty dialogue, so impeccably evolved as to
effortlessly toggle between candid responsiveness and an almost diaphanous
comedic farce. Douglas Slocombe’s cinematography, John Barry’s tender score,
Carmen Dillion’s art direction, and, Margaret Furse and Germinal Rangel’s
costuming have all conspired to will a sumptuous period piece to life. But
again, it remains Cukor’s ability to stage the action here with minimal intervention
from the camera – cutting to a close-up, only when absolutely necessary, and
allowing his actors their moments uninterrupted, with only the subtlest
movement between characters within the frame, that makes Love Among the
Ruins an absolutely sustainable and totally rewarding entertainment. These
are intelligent craftsmen, functioning at the highest levels in performance.
The results, are therefore, nothing less than splendid.
Interesting to reconsider what this movie would have
been had Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne, the legendary toasts of live theater, accepted
the opportunity to perform it on stage-bound sets – as it was originally
planned. Mercifully, the pair dropped out and Love Among the Ruins was
instead earmarked as a full-fledged ‘made-for-television’ movie, shot on
location in London in a scant 6 weeks. The picture’s cache and caliber, in
terms of star power and overall narrative perfection, easily bested most anything
that came to the local movie houses in 1975. Indeed, the format, procured by
ABC for their ‘film division’ and begun in 1969 as 90-min. ‘movies of the week’,
was to morph into full-fledged, 2-hr. product with substantially higher budgets
by the time Love Among the Ruins had its premiere. Sad too, to recall
that the movie was punctuated by Olivier’s muscular disease, an affliction to gradually
put a period to his career and life. As such, Love Among the Ruins remains
the benefactor of seasoned pros, conceiving it, very much, as though it were
still a period glam-bam, hewn from Hollywood’s golden era: built like a tank
and given class plus, in front of and behind the camera.
Long overdue for rediscovery, Love Among the Ruins
arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber, properly framed in 1.66:1, and in a new 2K
master that will surely not disappoint. While the color palette is subdued, and
contrast occasionally falters – the image appearing a little too dark – much of
what is here looks positively gorgeous. There are splashes of bold color – here
and there – but most of the image is resolved in monochromatic tones of
browns/beiges/blacks, with the intermittent burst of tangerine orange in the
reflection of cloud-burst sunlight filtering through Sir Arthur’s windows, or Jessica’s
ostentatious yellow Rolls-Royce, and, her even more daring red dress, offset by
Fanny’s coral blue and pink ensemble. Fine details are rather nicely resolved
in all, except for a handful, of scenes. Again, when contrast waffles and the
image become slightly darker, we generally lose the preciseness of background
detail for a moment or two. Nothing egregious. There are also no signs of
age-related artifacts, though on two occasions, a curious moiré pattern briefly
emerges. Enough said. Moving on. The DTS 1.0 mono is, of course, in keeping
with the picture’s original intent – to be aired on primetime television in an
era when sound-design was not an issue as stereo on the boob tube was not even
an afterthought. As this is a dialogue-driven
movie, ambient sounds are kept to a bare minimum. We lose nothing in this.
Better still, Kino Lorber has shelled out for an audio commentary from Stephen
Vagg that delves into a many-splendored history of both the production, its
stars’ respective careers, and the premise of the title – the elegant poem
written by Robert Browning in 1855, and, read in its entirely by Vagg. We also
get several trailers for other product of a similar pedigree that Kino is
peddling. Bottom line: Love Among the Ruins is a sublime effort by all
concerned; an immensely satisfying valentine to that eternal perfection of
first love – made whole, intangible and bittersweet by the ravages of
time. What a sheer joy it remains today.
Very – very – highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
1
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