THE WHITE CLIFFS OF DOVER (MGM, 1944) Warner Archive

MGM marked its 20th anniversary in picture-making with Clarence Brown's elegant production of The White Cliffs of Dover (1944), a generational family saga, extolling the fortitude of human sacrifice during two world wars. Based on Alice Duer Miller's popular poem, the screenplay by Claudine West, Jan Lustig and George Froeschel (with additional poetic passages inserted by Robert Nathan), manages to retain Miller's melodic and timely intercontinental charm while adding grand production values for which MGM in its heyday was justly famous. Going outside its own gated community of stars, director, Brown cast Irene Dunne as his winsome heroine, Susan Ashwood. Beloved by costars and directors alike, Dunne would earn the nickname, ‘First Lady of Hollywood’ because, as director, Leo McCarey later hypothesized, “… she was the first real lady Hollywood has ever seen.” These sentiments were echoed also by director, Gregory LaCava, who added, “If Irene Dunne isn't the first lady of Hollywood, then she’s the last one.” Indeed, Dunne was a beloved of Hollywood almost from the moment she appeared in pictures, cultivating a lady-like persona that, by all accounts was true to her real-life pedigree. Adding an ‘e’ to her surname – for flourish – Dunne signed her first film contract with RKO in 1930, appearing to excellent effect in Back Street (1932), Magnificent Obsession (1935), Universal’s lavishly appointed adaptation of Show Boat (1936) and the three-hankie weepy, Love Affair (1939). By mid-decade, she had turned the corner, from such light-hearted screwball fare as Theodora Goes Wild (1936), The Awful Truth (1937) and My Favorite Wife (1940), to more serious roles in Penny Serenade (1941) and, Anna and the King of Siam (1946). Yet, for all intent and purposes, Dunne seems to have come to acting as an afterthought, once commenting in an interview of her lack of ‘terrifying ambition’ and adding “Acting is not everything. Living is!”

The White Cliffs of Dover finds Dunne in full women’s’ weepy regalia, the sincerity in her tenderly wrought performance as the long-suffering Susan Dashwood, a Red Cross relief nurse, never veering into maudlin treacle. Dunne’s great gift to this picture (and, indeed - pictures) is her ability to convey so much, seemingly without doing all that much to convince us she is a great actress. While others of her ilk and time might have exhibited greater depths of controlled theatrics, or, delivered on a more robust proficiency for letting the subtler art in their craft show, to prove a point that ‘reel acting’ is work, Dunne’s approach here is to sustain a performance, apparently, by accident. We relate to Dunne as Dunne, rather than the character she is supposed to be playing – or perhaps, because we are naïve enough to suspect Dunne is merely being herself when, in fact, she is plying her craft to the character as charged. Joyously, Dunne excels at gently wringing tears from the faintest whiff of sentiment. The picture also stars then popular second-string leading man, Alan Marshall (born, Alan M. Willey) as Susan’s loyally wed husband, John, and up-and-comers, Roddy McDowell and Peter Lawford – each, playing the couple’s son, John Jr. at various stages of his adolescence and young manhood. The Australian-born Marshall was, for a time, much sought after in Hollywood, in support of leading ladies with egos larger than his own, primarily because actresses felt secure in his complete lack of a 'primadonna' complex. Indeed, Marshall could be counted upon to do his part without ever upstaging his costar. Following a successful career on Broadway, he became a contract player with Selznick International, his contract bought out by MGM, who initially borrowed his services for Parnell (1937), but liked what they saw and made Selznick an offer he could not refuse to acquire Marshall on a more permanent basis. Perhaps his greatest part until this, was in 2oth Century-Fox's The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939). In The White Cliffs of Dover, Marshall is wonderfully sedate, his tenderness and admiration for his costar, translating to an endearing romantic slant that is palpably warm-hearted.

Apart from pooling its vast resources on this timely bit of war-time propaganda, MGM also gathered together virtually every newcomer it was then grooming for stardom, as well as all of their Brit-based stalwarts from the old home guard. To this end, The White Cliffs of Dover contains some remarkable cameos from Frank Morgan as Hiram Porter Dunn, Van Johnson (Sam Bennett), C. Aubrey Smith (Colonel Walter Forsythe), Dame May Whitty (Nanny), Gladys Cooper (Lady Jean Ashwood), Norma Varden (Mrs. Bland), June Lockhart (Betsy Kenney, age 18) and Elizabeth Taylor (Betsy Kenney, age 10). Assigning the project to two of their most respected cinematographers, George J. Folsey and Robert H. Planck, The White Cliffs of Dover is also the beneficiary of a superb crew toiling behind the scenes to pull off the illusion of a film made in England when, alas, and by 1939, fear of reprisals from Adolph Hitler’s night raid bombings on London had put a period to MGM’s Brit-based film-making apparatus. In lieu of the real thing, MGM relies on beautifully crafted facsimiles from Cedric Gibbons and Edwin Willis, a romanticized score by the studio’s resident workhorse/composer, Herbert Stothart, and Gil Steele’s excellent costuming.

The White Cliffs of Dover begins with our first glimpse of an aged Susan, working as a Red Cross relief nurse in the emergency ward inside a London hospital. Exhausted and careworn, Susan gazes lovingly at a portrait of her son and our story regresses in flashback to a happier, simpler time just before WWI. Susan and her publisher father, Hirum Porter Dunn have newly arrived in England on business. Staying at Mrs. Bland's boarding house, Susan and Hirum are introduced to retired Col. Walter Forsythe, who invites Hirum to his room for a game of chess. The match, however, turns ugly when Hirum learns they are playing on a vintage chess board stolen from The White House by the British during Madison's presidency. Nevertheless, Forsythe invites Susan to a grand ball at the Duchess of Waverly's estate where she meets elegant playboy, Sir John Ashwood. Taken by her beauty, Ashwood courts Susan with slick panache. Susan informs John she must return to America with her father in a few days. But Ashwood has other plans and his smooth charm and impeccable timing reluctantly convince Hirum to leave his daughter behind in England while he sails on the next boat.

John takes Susan to his ancestral estate, presided over by his mother, Lady Jean. There, Susan also meets John's brother, Reginald (John Warburton), Lady Jean's sister, Mrs. Bancroft (Isobel Elsom) and Nanny: the doting – and ever so slightly dotty - housemaid who raised Lady Jean’s children. Although cordiality is the order of the day, the family's brittle comments about Susan behaving not at all like an American, coupled with Susan's own homesickness, eventually get the better of her. Determined to sail on the next available boat, Susan's plans are once again thwarted by John, who now proposes marriage. Unable to deny her heart, Susan sends a telegram to Hirum who sails on the next available voyage for their wedding. Hurt feelings reconciled, Susan and Lady Jean become great friends. Alas, the blissful happiness of Susan’s wedding is blunted when war is declared. John departs to join his regiment, leaving Susan and Lady Jean with their careworn and anxious fears. After Reginald is killed in battle, John is granted a furlough in Dieppe where he and Susan spend a glorious week in a quaint French villa overlooking the sea. At the end of their stay, Susan learns America has decided to enter the war. Barely able to contain her sadness, Susan returns to England, already carrying John's child.

Giving birth to John Ashwood II (Bunny Gordon), Susan proudly hails her son as 'part Yankee' to the Ashwoods and revels in America's involvement in the war. Regrettably, on the eve Armistice is declared, Susan learns from Col. Forsythe that John has been killed in action. From here the story fast tracks to the mid-1930s. John Jr. (now played by Roddy McDowell) grows into a respectful, introspective and intelligent youth whose compassion for the men and women working his father's land is both heartfelt and sincere. John Jr.'s attentions are mostly focused on the Kenney family whose daughter, Betsy (Elizabeth Taylor) is smitten with him. Shades of another looming war begin to encroach upon this idyllic country estate after John invites two German brothers, Dietrich (Norbert Muller) and Gerhardt von Biesterberg (Steven Muller) to lunch. Seated at table with Hirum, Susan and Lady Jean, the brothers gradually begin to reveal their distaste for England and its people. Hirum bates the boys by telling them he has recently been to Germany and witnessed their meteoric industrialization since the last war. Gerhardt hints that these factories are making implements for another European conflict and Dietrich challenges Hirum with an ominous diatribe about what the new Germany will do 'next time' to ensure they do not remain, as Hirum has suggested, a defeated people.

Lady Jean, who has been in ill health for quite some time, quietly dies in her bed. Later, Hirum wisely suggests to Susan that she save her son from following in his father's footsteps by whisking the boy off to relative safety in America. However, after closing up the estate and giving Nanny her leave, on a train bound for their sailing ship, John informs his mother that his duty is first and foremost to England in her hour of need. Realizing she cannot dissuade John from his destiny, Susan reluctantly agrees that they shall return to John's ancestral home and face whatever the future holds in store. The narrative jumps forward again with John (now played by Peter Lawford) saying his farewells to Betsy (now played by June Lockhart) in a taxi just before he is shipped off to battle. We find Susan, as in the beginning of the film, a nurse with the Red Cross, receiving a litany of wounded soldiers brought in on stretchers from the latest battle. One of the them is John. As he is carried into the ward, John recalls for Susan the sad destruction of Dieppe. Fatally stricken, John's final hours are spent with his mother at his side as just outside his hospital window, American troops march down the avenues of Piccadilly with Susan hopeful her fallen son's sacrifice has not been in vain.

On any level one may choose to ascribe to it, The White Cliffs of Dover is a poignant and poetic masterpiece. Irene Dunne, a sadly underrated actress today - but one of the most revered in her time - delivers a superb performance that ranks among her finest. She is precocious and inviting as a young woman and convincingly careworn as the dutiful matriarch. The usually befuddled Frank Morgan provides a tenderly nuanced portrayal of parental dotage as does Gladys Cooper as Lady Jean. But the picture belongs almost exclusively to Dunne, who shoulders the transitional periods with exceptional depth of character without ever veering into the patriotic saccharine oft afforded such roles. Dunne just appears to be living this part, and, as ably assisted by the various ‘men’ in Susan’s life, she yields to a quiet rectitude and moral grace that is both invigorating and richly rewarding to be around.  Cedric Gibbon's impeccable art direction resurrects the elegant refinement of 'merry ole England' from pre-WWI and then extols its sad decline between the two World Wars, with meticulous attention to ever last detail. George J. Folsey's glossy cinematography and Herbert Stothart's original score lend immeasurable support. This is one humdinger of a good show - a film that deserves our renewed respect and viewing.

The White Cliffs of Dover is a Warner Archive burn-on-demand DVD release. Aside: it ought to have been a WAC Blu-ray release by now! Like others in this cannon, this standard transfer has its faults. The gray scale is often nicely balanced, although certain scenes appear to have had contrast slightly boosted. Also, certain scenes appear softly focused. Occasionally, the image wobbles, drawing attention to the hanging mattes and miniatures employed for long shots. There is also a considerable amount of thick grain in the early scenes, but thankfully minimal edge enhancement and NO chroma bleeding (a flaw in many other WAC DVD releases). The only real pitfall here is considerable amounts of age-related artifacts that have not been cleaned up for this presentation. It should also be noted there is a curious absence of picture for a brief few seconds during the transitional sequence where baby John becomes young John riding on horseback through the countryside. The audio - a voice over supplied by Irene Dunne - continues but the image suddenly blacks out - presumably missing a few frames. The 1.0 mono is well represented. This being an early WAC release, there are NO extra features, save a brief theatrical trailer. Again, while I applaud Warner Home Video's attempt to make titles such as this available to consumers, I would encourage the studio to reconsider this as a viable candidate for a Blu-ray upgrade in the very near future. The White Cliffs of Dover is a gorgeous and poignantly told tale of human integrity and sacrifice during those terribly years at war. It belongs on everyone’s top shelves, preferably in hi-def.  Bottom line: recommended on MOD DVD for now.

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

1