A MAN CALLED PETER: Blu-ray (2oth Century-Fox, 1955) Twilight Time
In a life all
too brief yet legendary, Scots-American preacher, Peter Marshall stood firm as
one of the foremost partisans of the Christian faith, imbued with an
unvarnished tenacity and clear-eyed concentration, eloquent in disseminating the
word of God, not as much from the pulpit as from the heart. Marshall preferred
to speak instead of preach and inform without indoctrination. Ultimately, he
rose to the pinnacle of his chosen calling; first, as minister of Washington
D.C.’s august New York Ave. Presbyterian Church (a.k.a. The Church of the
Presidents) and later, as chaplain to the United States Senate. In hindsight,
there is nothing in his background that might have foreshadowed this dramatic awakening
as America’s foremost ecclesiastic; this Scotsman, born to meager circumstances
in Coatbridge, troubled in his youth, who, penniless and uneducated,
nevertheless emigrated to New York City in 1927, graduating from Columbia
Theological Seminary four short years later. Yet, practically from the outset, as
pastor of the then ailing First Presbyterian Church in Covington, Georgia,
Marshall was to distinguish himself as a voice for truth, ascending the ranks
to another pastorate at Atlanta’s Westminster Presbyterian Church in 1933. If
not for his marriage to Catherine Wood, a student from Agnes Scott College, the
name Peter Marshall, though mightily felt around the nation at the time of his
untimely passing in 1949 (he was just 47), might have perished from the earth. We
give it to Mrs. Marshall then, having the good sense to chronicle her late
husband’s achievements in a prideful biography, A Man Called Peter – first, published in 1951, and destined to
become an even more heartrending and unexpected Oscar-nominated movie.
Director, Henry
Koster’s A Man Called Peter (1955)
is rare among the many films of faith that once permeated Hollywood’s yearly
output. For, it neither endeavors nor strains to make the gospel its central
focus but, as unassuming as the man whose virtue it extols, creeps up on the
viewer, with nearly 30 minutes of undiluted sermonizing interpolated throughout,
almost as an afterthought. These riveting speeches spoke to the faithful in
1955. Yet, perhaps even more miraculously, they continue to resonate and
crystalize the perennial relevancy of God in the 21th century (an
age, tainted by high profile church scandals, unremittingly to have stepped away
from the teachings of Christ). And indeed, in less capable hands, such devout
ambitions – unquestionably exalted and celebratory – so easily could have
devolved into just another religious potboiler, viewed from today’s jaundice
vantage with a rather cloying fondness, only by those old enough to recall its
more sturdy, steadfast and elegant time. Several things prevent this from
happening, not the least A Man Called
Peter, under Koster’s formidable sponsorship, is blessed to have been made
at 2oth Century-Fox – the Cartier of classiness, though particularly where
spiritual celluloid tomes are concerned. It seems strange to think of Hollywood
(then, as now, referenced mostly by those on the outside looking in, as something
of a modern-age Sodom and Gomorrah) as the purveyors of pop-cultured Christianity;
even more ironic when one stops to consider that a good many of its ‘below-the-line’ contributors were of
Jewish extraction. Though perhaps, director, William Wyler – the master
craftsman of the greatest Bible-fiction epic of them all, 1959’s Ben-Hur, said it best, “It takes a Jew to do this stuff well!”
The film
industry in 1955 was dominated by men of the Jewish persuasion who, either from
centuries-old inculcated, subtler shame regarding their overwhelming good
fortune and success in America, an abject and lingering fear of being dictated
to by outside political influences, or most astutely, driven by their
unwavering pursuit to make ‘good pictures’ keeping pace with the times, put
forth an embarrassment of riches committed to the doctrines of Christ: Bible-fiction
costume spectacles, missionary tales, biopics extolling the more famous saints,
and, last but not least, genteel comedies, gingerly invested in the quaintly/saintly
foibles of nuns and priests, guaranteed to fatten their respective coffers,
even as they spoke to a world at war. Debuting as it did in 1955, the absolute pinnacle
of the post-war economic boom, A Man Called
Peter is precisely the sort of robustly satisfying reflection of ‘in God we trust’ that Americans longed
to see. Marshall’s imagining of Christ as “sun-tanned,
bronzed, fearless, knuckles big in his carpenter’s hands” liking “all kinds of people” from the sophisticates
to the irreligious, and not above kindling laughter derived from a good joke, addresses,
perhaps even more so today, our modern covet for a relatable Jesus, hopefully, just
as able to relate to us as someone never to frown upon our ever-constant,
collective failure to disappointment Him.
A Man Called Peter is the recipient of many Jewish
artisans toiling in unison: director extraordinaire, Henry Koster; producer, Samuel
G. Engel; cinematographer, Harold Lipstein, and finally, legendary composer,
Alfred Newman who, having scored so many of the studio’s religious-themed
pictures throughout the 1940’s, once laughingly mused that every time he
dressed for work his collar automatically went on backwards. We have yet to mention the cast, that, despite
some exceptionally fine supporting bits, essentially, boils down to two: Irish-born,
Richard Todd and Ohioan, Jean Peters. As the eponymous Peter, Todd’s is the
flashier part, and he embraces it with all the Gaelic vigor of a common
assemblage of clay stirred to greatness by the hand of the Lord. Todd, it
should be noted was not the first choice for the part. That dubious distinction
goes to Richard Burton, Fox’s go-to guy after his magnetic debut in their first
Cinemascope religious epic, The Robe
(1953). Due to prior obligations, Burton proved unavailable.
Burton’s loss,
Todd’s, the movie’s and our monumental gain, as Todd’s deference to the content
of Marshall’s character is both uncanny and sublime. Nowhere is Todd more thrillingly
alive than when delivering his unvarnished and frank recollections from the pulpit,
tackling – in some cases – five to eight minutes of uninterrupted monologue
that, under another actor’s strain, would stifle creativity. And yet, Todd is
never anything less than enigmatic. When he challenges Westminster’s dwindling
congregation to look beyond their sacred past, first, to the all-important ‘now’
and next, ‘the future’, or later, when addressing impressionable Annapolis
cadets on the eve of their deployment into the European conflict, with the sobering
specter of renewed life, only possible after death, Todd appears to be cribbing,
not from Marshall’s immortal sermons, nor even Eleanore Griffin’s well-expressed
screenplay, but the unvarnished outlook of a vast resource beating in tandem with
the universal principles of Christ himself, remade more palpable, though no
less truthful or direct for this modern age.
We doff our caps
herein also to the multi-talented Jean Peters, whose short-lived tenure at Fox –
and, indeed, the movies (A Man Called
Peter, her swan song), yielded memorable performances in such classic fare
as Captain from Castile (1947), Viva Zapata! (1952), Niagara (1953), and, Three Coins in the Fountain (1954).
Peters selectiveness, and, her resistance to being transformed into just
another contract glamour girl, greatly irked studio chief, Darryl F. Zanuck.
Nevertheless, Zanuck valued Peters as an actress and she was afforded good to
great parts in solid pictures. That Peters chose retirement – and marriage to
Howard Hughes – in lieu of stardom was therefore something of a surprise to
many, including Zanuck. Though she befriended Marilyn Monroe during the making
of Niagara and beyond, Peters was candid
about her own sex appeal, recognizing her strengths in playing the girl next
door rather than the sexpot. In many ways, the role of Catherine Marshall is
tailor-made to suit Peter’s persona. And Griffin’s screenplay presents the
exiting Peters with an authoritative oration that bears repeating, if not in
its totality herein, then most assuredly in its attitude. Begun in nervous
response to quell a somewhat hostile youth rally, Catherine’s reflections on a
woman’s place in the 20th century at first, mark her as ‘lucky’ to
have been born in the age of emancipation and progress. But as Catherine points
out, ‘emancipation’ is Christianity’s
achievement, as one woman above all others received the highest honor as mother
of the Savior of the world, crowned with such glory that for century’s thereafter
she would remain revered, contented and loved.
“…woman had not been equal to man - but superior,” Catherine points
out, “To stand equal with men, naturally
she had to step down. Now, being equal with men, she has won all their rights
and privileges: the right to get drunk…to swear…smoke…work like a man…think and
act like a man. We have won all this. But how can we feel so triumphant when
men no longer feel as romantic about us as they did about our grandmothers. We’ve
lost something sweet and mysterious…poets have become immortal by remembering
on paper a girl’s smile. But I’ve never read a poem rhapsodizing over a girl’s
giggles at a smutty joke. And I’ve never heard a man brag that his sweetheart
or his wife could drink just as much as he and become just as intoxicated. I’ve
never heard a man say that a girl’s mouth was prettier with a cigarette hanging
from it or that her hair smelled divinely of stale tobacco. That’s all I have
to say. I’ve never made a speech before.” All evidence to the contrary. And
despite the rancor of 20th century feminism, likely to poo-poo a
Catherine Marshall, or even a Jean Peters today as hopelessly muddle-headed and
blind-sighted by the patriarchy, there remains – (perhaps even more so now) -
something genuine, truthful and edifying about these ruminations.
A Man Called Peter opens with Alfred Newman’s
exquisite fanfare and main title; the rather lackluster credits belying the
extraordinary story about to unfold. We find young Peter Marshall (Brian
Franklin) a constant source of concern for his mother and stepfather. Growing
into adulthood, Peter seems lost at school, and, with no forward direction to
propel his life and career. One foggy eve, while returning home from his
studies, he is imbued with a divine moment of introspection, and immediately
sets upon a path to join the local seminary college. We fast track through
these formative years, picking up the story as Peter sets forth to America.
Toiling at odd jobs, and indulging his hearty Scots’ strength for physical labor,
Peter graduates and is called as pastor to a small church in rural Covington,
Georgia. In no time, his sermons draw crowds from near and far. Among these is Catherine
Wood, a student at nearby Agnes Scott College. Desperately in love with Peter,
Catherine keeps silent, painfully enduring his obtuseness. Indeed, he does not
even know she is alive. Nevertheless, Catherine manages to ingratiate herself
into Peter’s traveling ministry. Her impromptu sermon on the sanctity of
womanhood highly impresses Peter. Gradually, he finds other reasons to regard
Catherine as his soulmate.
Blissfully wed,
Catherine’s sea sickness all but ruins a happy honeymoon while on an ocean
cruise. But Peter’s love of the sea will not be denied. He charters a small
boat to go fishing. Catherine absolutely
refuses to ever set foot in it. Back home, Peter is elated to learn he is being
offered a position as the new pastor of New York Ave. Presbyterian Church in
Washington D.C. Indeed, this is the very church where President Lincoln took services.
Alas, Peter’s elation is modestly dampened as he prepares for his first sermon.
The congregation is sparse; among its worshippers,
the stalwart, Miss Laura Fowler (Marjorie Rambeau), who adamantly resists Peter’s
earthier approach to the gospel. Also, in attendance is Senator Willis K.
Harvey (Les Tremayne), who, after years of doubting his faith, embraces Peter
Marshall as a dear friend. As before, Peter works a minor miracle on this
dwindling flock – all except Miss Fowler, who continues to withstand his
influence, yet in the same instance cannot deny the sway of his sermonizing, if
only in its ability to reinvigorate church attendance.
Catherine give
birth to son, Peter John (Billy Chapin). Yet, even this happy moment is turned into
disbelief as the nation learns Pearl Harbor has been attacked by the Japanese.
Already called upon to preach at the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis,
Peter is compelled by the news of the day, Peter to speak to the cadets – many of
whom will go off, but never return from war – from his heart. His sermon on
life after death is as stirring as it proves provocative. However, nothing is
more appalling to Miss Fowler than realizing Peter has opened his church to
servicemen, establishing an after-hours canteen; serving sandwiches, coffee,
common sense and hearty songs by the piano. Disapproving of this secular
philanthropy, Miss Fowler is further disgusted, and stirred to recommend to the
Church Board Peter’s prompt dismissal after discovering a young sailor and his
girl necking in the Lincoln chapel. As repulsed by her insinuation he would
allow any lewd behavior to go on inside the church, Peter confronts Miss Fowler
and the Board with the truth; that, he sanctioned this couple to retire to the
chapel in private, having married them only several hours earlier; the sailor,
about to be sent off to war, and likely, not to see his bride for some time –
if, in fact, ever again.
Not long
thereafter, Peter collapses from a coronary thrombosis and is rushed to
hospital. His miraculous recovery mirrors Catherine’s earlier, lengthy and near
fatal bout of tuberculosis. Over the course of one glorious summer holiday, the
Marshalls retreat to their newly acquired summer home in Cape Cod by the sea –
Catherine, still refusing to get into the small boat with her husband and son
who, daily, revel in their fishing expeditions. Arriving back in Washington,
Peter informs Catherine he has decided to accept an appointment as Chaplain of
the United States Senate. Although she is concerned for his health, Catherine
realizes her husband is doing precisely what he was born to do. Regrettably, Peter
awakens in the middle of the night in grave pain, imploring Catherine to call
for the ambulance. As paramedics take him away, Peter gently makes Catherine a
faint promise to see her in the morning. Tragically, Catherine receives a phone
call from the hospital early the next morning. Peter has died. Leading from another
promise Catherine made to Peter, Catherine takes their son to the cottage at Cape
Cod. However, as Peter John prepares to
go sailing, Catherine is suddenly overcome with fear. Peter John gently reasons
that if she would only get into the boat all her concerns would be assuaged. Overcoming her anxiety and sea sickness,
Catherine gathers up the family dog and climbs aboard, suddenly imbued with a
miraculous feeling that Peter is watching over them. In her mind, she hears her
voice fulfilling their promise to meet one another ‘in the morning’, looks up
into the sun-filled sky and bravely smiles.
In these
penultimate moments, A Man Called Peter
is a top-quality tearjerker; never mawkish, but instilled with a delicate joie de vivre. Richard Todd and Jean Peters have never been more impeccably well-matched
for their corresponding roles; each tenderly tugging on the other for
inspiration. We can imagine in them a reasonable facsimile of the Marshalls. It
ought to be pointed out that Henry Koster’s direction is sometimes episodic;
especially, the early sequences devoted to Peter’s wayward youth and epiphany
to join the seminary; also, his early rise to prominence in America, prior to
his pastorate in Washington. However, once the picture hits its stride with the
solidly grounded romance between Peter and Catherine, the audience is provided
with ample nourishment to become invested in this triumphant celebration of an astoundingly
genuine life. Apart from interiors built inside sound stages at 2oth
Century-Fox, wherever possible, A Man
Called Peter is photographed at the actual locations documented for
posterity in the movie. Fox was always progressive in this regard; the studio,
under Zanuck’s guidance, one of the first to reconsider production value to be gleaned
outside of the Hollywood vacuum. In Cinemascope and Color by De Luxe, A Man Called Peter is an exuberant
reminder of what Hollywood’s well-oiled studio system could achieve in an era
when virtually all talents necessary to make just such a quality affair were
housed – ostensibly – under one roof and overseen by a mogul with a singular
guiding principle: to make the very best pictures that could satisfy the popular
tastes – not just of their time, but for all time. On this occasion, as with
many, Zanuck succeeded.
A Man Called Peter arrives on Blu-ray via Fox’s third-party
distribution deal with Twilight Time. The results are not altogether
impressive, chiefly because this 1080p transfer is derived from earlier
archived materials, not afforded a more recent digital scan or even basic clean-up
to ready them for their hi-def debut. The image, while solidly defined, lacks subtler
color balancing. Flesh tones are frequently pasty. Worse, age-related artifacts
are everywhere and, during the latter third of the movie, arise as severe vertical
scratches. These could have, and should have been digitally scrubbed to
minimize or even eradicate their presence. Virtually all the montages,
dissolves and fades are plagued by intermittent color fading, with a
considerable – if only momentary – loss of fine detail. Given some of the
exemplary work Fox has previously afforded other ‘scope’ releases to Blu-ray, A Man Called Peter’s visuals are underwhelming
to say the least, and such a shame for a movie this fine and compelling. The
4.0 DTS soundtrack delivers all of the oomph of vintage Cinemascope ‘Westrex’
stereo. TT affords us another isolated track to experience Alfred Newman’s
superb underscore in its entirety sans dialogue. Extras are limited to a brief
sermon by the real Peter Marshall, a truncated Fox Movietones newsreel and
original theatrical trailer, looking much too old and careworn. Bottom line: A Man Called Peter is far and away one
of the most rewarding ‘religious-themed’
motion pictures ever made. But this Blu-ray is adequate, if unremarkable. Judge
and buy accordingly.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
3
EXTRAS
2
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