THE EGG AND I: 70th Anniversary Blu-ray (Universal, 1947) Universal Home Video
Claudette
Colbert and Fred MacMurray discover just how unenlightened they are about the
rigors of life on a farm in Chester Erskine’s The Egg and I (1947), a charming little comedy programmer with
plenty of heart to spare. The movie is based on Betty MacDonald’s runaway 1945
best-selling memoir, itself, a tongue-in-cheek account of the author’s
self-discover and pratfalls while following first husband, Robert Heskett’s
blind ambition to start a little chicken farm near Chimacum, Washington. While MacDonald’s
experiences were enough to wreck the marriage, mercifully, Erskine’s adaptation
leaves its newlywed protagonists modestly bruised, but unbowed, their marital
bonds actually strengthened by the end of the ordeal. The Egg and I plays into the usual hokum and stereotypes; corn-fed
country bumpkins mostly, with Louise Allbritton as the sassy, rich gal thrown
in for good measure. Colbert had, in fact, segued out of precisely this sort of
savage and internationally savvy ‘bright young thing’ role, after having appeared
as everything from a viperous Roman goddess (The Sign of the Cross, 1932), to spoiled rich heiresses (It Happened One Night, 1934). Very
early in her career however, Colbert took on motherhood in Imitation of Life (also, 1934), usually
the kiss of death for actresses aspiring to be sexy; thereupon, illustrating
the point that an actress need not be old to play maternal.
In The Egg and I, Colbert takes a step
back for womanhood, playing MacDonald as a doting and subservient ‘little
woman’ ascribing to her husband’s dreams wholesale. Does she like where things are headed? Not
particularly. Does Bob know where
things are headed? Hmmm. Like all dreams, this one quickly takes on the pangs
of an all too concrete misfire of the best of intentions. Bob wants to be
independent. So, he casts off the daily grind of an aspiring big city law
career after getting the silly little notion he and his bride are born farmers.
Oh, broooother! There is the hardest work in the world. The Egg
and I may not exactly derive from an original premise (the ‘fish out of
water’ scenario has been conquered ad nauseam) but what it does spectacularly
well is to represent these floundering fops as well-rounded, well-intended,
real people caught in an error of their own design. As such, the comedy plays
more genuine and we truly come to care about what happens to Betty and Bob. The Egg and I is also noteworthy for
the debut of Ma and Pa Kettle (played with resplendent boisterousness by
Marjorie Main and a sly and mostly silent, Percy Kilbride). The appearance of
these two countrified kooks would spawn one of Universal Studio’s most beloved
franchises; the pair (a regular Min and
Bill for their generation) given star billing in nine additional movies
between 1948 and 1957.
At its core, The Egg and I is a story about being
tested; accepting life at face value, as it comes, and, being rewarded for the
industry of hard work by those as devoted to its cause. Along the way, all
sorts of misadventures happen; some, more convincingly realized than others. Our story begins inauspiciously one morning in
Manhattan as a nervous Bob giddily reveals to his war bride, Betty he has
already quit his promising career at a law firm to pursue a new venture –
chicken farming! Having acquired a dilapidated
truck loaded with livestock and other accoutrements necessary to launch their
new enterprise, Betty’s reluctance blossoms into full-blown apprehension at the
first sight of their shabby shack - an overgrown and dusty ramshackle. Bob has lost his mind! This place is a
rundown sty with a roof as leaky as a sieve. Worse, Betty doubts she has what
it takes to make a success of the Herculean task to transform this hovel into a
home. Her initial confrontation with an unmanageable wood-burning stove seems
to suggest it’s going to be anything but ‘smooth sailing’ ahead. But gradually
– very gradually, in fact – Betty begins to wend her way through this quagmire
of self-discovery; learning to plant an herb garden - in the wrong spot, making
a mishmash of collecting freshly laid eggs, and generally unable, even to
manage feeding the hog.
Meanwhile, an
ebullient Bob plots his itinerary for breeding livestock. Rather idiotically,
the birth of his first child is also slotted into this 12-month plan. Bob is an
optimist; his good nature tested by their closest neighbor, Franklin ‘Pa’
Kettle, who promptly borrows more than several planks of wood and a bucket of
nails Bob has only just purchased to build his own chicken coop. That same
afternoon, Betty is horrified to find two Indians, Geoduck (John Berkes) and
Crowbar (Vic Potel) peering through her kitchen window (shades of Colbert’s
reaction to Indians in John Ford’s 1940 drama, Drums Along the Mohawk). However, unlike the rather ruthless
savages depicted in Ford’s film, Geoduck and Crowbar are domesticated
merchants, merely come to peddle fresh fish. Truth be told, Betty has just
about reached her threshold for playing ‘old
Susanna’ down on the farm, her mood unabated when Cleopatra, their
pot-bellied pig, knocks her into the mud up to her elbows; hardly the way she
would have preferred to first encounter their slinky neighbor, Harriet Putnam.
A rich divorcee,
and owner of the stately Bella Vista Farm, Harriet proves she is more than just
a pretty face, luring Cleopatra back into her pen with ease. Betty’s abject
gratitude quietly devolves into animosity as Harriet puts the moves on Bob, who
is seemingly oblivious to her charms. However, Bob is interested in Harriet’s skills as savvy business woman of the
most profitable chicken farm in these parts. Unable to dissuade her husband
from believing Harriet may have ulterior motives, Betty allows Bob a certain
latitude to pursue her as an invaluable connection for future distribution of
the goods they too are planning to sell. While Bob is off overseeing Harriet’s
state-of-the-art operation, Betty is besought by Billy Reed (Billy House), a
real pain in the denim traveling salesman, nevertheless unsuccessful at
hornswoggling Betty into buying his wares. Not long thereafter, as remuneration
for the lumber he managed to pilfer, Pa sends Tom (Richard Long), the eldest
and most intelligent of his nine children, to help the MacDonald’s in their
daily chores. Indeed, Ma confides in Betty she and Pa depend greatly on Tom for
his support and hard work. It matters not Tom has a mind destined for a
brighter future, if only he could afford to go to college. But no – the Kettles
need him at home.
Bob returns from
Bella Vista with a promising dinner invitation from Harriet to discuss
business. Betty knows exactly what sort of ‘business’ Harriet is likely to transact
if she fails to attend. So, off to Bella Vista she goes, only to quickly find
herself the third wheel in Bob and Harriet’s impassioned discussions about
chicken farming. Harriet offers to set up a meeting between the MacDonald’s and
Mr. Henty (Donald MacBride) – a distributor of farm goods. A nod from Henty can
mean the difference between success and failure. Alas, Henty makes an impromptu
visit to the MacDonald’s modest abode on the very evening the couple have
elected to ‘dress up’ and pretend they are back in New York, enjoying an
elegant candlelit dinner in their own living room. It all looks too chichi for
Henty, a real stick in the mud. Despite Bob’s many attempts to ingratiate themselves
to their unexpected guest, Henty departs without agreeing to buy their produce.
Sometime later, Betty arrives at the Kettles with a present for Ma – a new
dress she has sewn so the Kettles can attend the local barn dance. Again, Betty
makes a pitch for Ma to consider letting Tom go off to college to improve his
mind. This time, Ma agrees to at least consider the possibility.
At the dance,
Harriet quickly monopolizes Bob’s time, incurring Betty’s disquieting anger as
she becomes inveigled with a series of clumsy dance partners from the local
gentry. Alas, the night’s festivities are cut short when a neighbor bursts into
the auditorium to inform everyone the Kettles’ barn, where Pa has set up a
makeshift distillery for moonshine, has caught fire. As it has been a terribly
dry season, the modest blaze has already spread across the dry brush,
threatening adjacent properties, including the MacDonald’s. Bob and Betty make valiant attempts to save
their farm. Nevertheless, they are faced with the reality nothing can stop this
inferno from destroying their hard-earned efforts. As the fire eats through
their outbuildings, including the chicken coop and their crops, the wind shifts
and badly needed rain begins to fall from the skies. And although the main house
is spared the deluge, for once, Bob finds very little to rejoice. Indeed, the couple’s finances have run out.
There is no money to rebuild and nothing left to do but go crawling back to his
bosses in the hopes he can still get his old job back. Mercifully, at dawn the
MacDonald’s are awakened by the clatter of car horns. It seems the entire
community has turned out to help them rebuild; each family offering what they
can in the way of supplies, food and livestock for Bob and Betty to begin their
enterprise anew. Even Mr. Henty has had a change of heart, offering the
MacDonald’s a 2-year egg contract at premium prices.
More determined
than ever to see Tom become a scholar, Betty decides to enter the quilt Ma
Kettle made for her in the county fair. The prize money would be enough to pay
for Tom’s tuition. Alas, the contest is a rigged game, the fair’s judges all
relatives of local maven, Birdie Hicks (Esther Dale), who is sure to win first
prize. Remembering Billy Reed is the
fair’s Master of Ceremonies, Betty bribes him into affording the quilting prize
to Ma Kettle instead. Betty’s victory is short-lived, as she spies Harriet and
Bob pairing off together. She suffers a fainting spell. Ma has seen it happen
lots of times before. Betty is pregnant!
To celebrate, Betty prepares a surprise dinner at home, intruded upon by
Emily (Ida Moore), a slightly pixelated old biddy who has magical conversations
with her invisible husband and regales Betty with a horror story about a
vicious giant chicken. Before long, the kindly Sheriff (Samuel S. Hinds)
arrives, explaining to Betty how Emily used to live on this particular farm,
but went insane after her husband ran off with another woman from a neighboring
property. Believing the same fate may befall her if she remains (perhaps it
already has…), Betty retreats in tears to the city to live with her mother
(Elisabeth Risdon).
Time passes.
Betty is wounded by the fact Bob has never sought to woo her back. Bitterly,
Betty refuses to open any of his letters and later, gives birth to their
daughter in secret. After more level-headed contemplation, Betty elects to
reconcile with Bob and boards a train for the country. However, at the station
Betty instructs a taxi driver to take her to the MacDonald residence, startled
when he instead drives straight to Bella Vista Farm. Believing Bob and Harriet
have moved in together, Betty jealousy plots to drive off before Bob can see
her. Then, even more fretfully, she confronts him as a deceiver and bigamist.
In his own defense, Bob explains that, while it is true he now lives at Bella
Vista, it is not with Harriet, but rather – totally alone – having mortgaged
everything to buy this property from Harriet for Betty. In fact, he wrote her
incessantly of his plans but never received any reply. Sheepishly realizing
what an absolute fool she has been, Betty now introduces Bob to his newly born
daughter, reminding him that according to his itinerary they are still ‘right
on schedule’. As the couple embrace, a car drives up to alert Bob of yet
another crisis at the chicken house. As Bob dashes off in his night clothes to
meet this latest challenge, Betty looks on affectionately. Yep, she has married a farmer – through and
through. Time to hunker down and let the real work begin.
The Egg and I is unobtrusively warm-hearted. Chester Erskine and
Fred F. Finklehoffe’s screenplay dotes on the particulars of MacDonald’s novel
without ever belaboring the comedic, dramatic or poignant elements to the point
where the laughter becomes absurdly screwball or the affecting dollops of
sincere emotion, maudlin. Colbert’s performance can veer into the theatrical on
occasion but that is part of its charm. Colbert, oft known for being difficult,
was nevertheless a wonderful actress, imbued with the presence of mind to sell
whatever the role as the epitome of truth in the moment. Hence, despite her
never waning glamour and Brymore-esque poise, she conveys genuine warmth and an
affecting homespun charm. The silent and tearful humility expressed by both
Colbert and co-star, Fred MacMurray as the community turns out to replenish
things lost in the fire is undeniably a tour de force. Budgeted at just under
$2 million, The Egg and I would go
on to reap $5,750,000 – making it one of Universal’s most profitable movies.
In hindsight,
one can definitely see it as a forerunner to TV’s Green Acres (1965-71). Milton R. Krasner’s B&W cinematography
is gorgeous. But the picture’s ‘dark horse’ surprise are Marjorie Main and
Percy Kilbride as the kindly/kooky Kettles. It is easy to see how Universal
could spin this pair into their own lucrative franchise with varying degrees of
success. Both Main and Kilbride have that ‘lived in’ quality a goodly sum of
vintage ‘contract players’ possessed during Hollywood’s golden era. Indeed,
stock company performers of their ilk were as valued then as ‘the stars’,
chiefly for their ability to offer up some ready-made character traits on
demand, however inconsequential the roles. It is a joy to observe these two old
hams sparking off one another, convincing as on-screen marrieds. In retrospect,
with her scampering manner, riotous voice and the blasé personality, Main had the
more lucrative career, a beloved of MGM’s stock company, appearing in such
diverse and high-profile fair as Stella
Dallas (1937), The Women (1939),
Heaven Can Wait (1943), Meet Me in St. Louis (1944), The Harvey Girls (1946) and Summer Stock (1950). Calling it quits in 1958, Main would appear
only once more in public, this time at the 1974 premiere of That’s Entertainment! receiving a
rousing round of applause from the crowds lining the street.
The Egg and I arrives on Blu-ray via Universal’s usual cut-rate lack
of attention to detail – hardly what ought to be expected of a disc advertised
as a 70th Anniversary release. Once again, Uni is dealing with
archival mastering that is suspect. Although the B&W image is very clean
and sports excellent contrast and, on occasion, some impressive detail, what’s
missing here is the presence of indigenous film grain. These elements have been
scrubbed with a wee bit too much DNR. Although they are not as waxy as one
might anticipate, the absence of grain itself makes for an image more
artificially video than film-based. There is also a curious split-second video ‘warp’
occurring during one scene, easily correctable if only a bit more due diligence
had been applied during ‘quality control’. The DTS mono audio sounds fairly
impressive – so, no complaints there. Uni has recycled its featurettes on
Colbert’s career, a real ‘nothing’ junket, plus one of their 100 Years
featurettes, this one on the studio’s founding father, Carl Laemmle – proof positive
The Egg and I was likely planned to
help celebrate Universal’s 100th anniversary back in 2012. For one
reason or another this never happened so, once again, what we have is a disc
with no main menu or chapter stops. It boots up and plays to the finish. Those
who read this blog regularly know I am a stickler for Blu-ray authoring. Do it
right and afford us at least the basics. That’s all I ask. Bottom line: The Egg and I is a charmer. This disc
is merely a middling effort. Judge and buy accordingly.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
3
EXTRAS
1
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