THE MAJOR AND THE MINOR: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1942) Arrow Academy

Based on Fanny Kilbourne’s enchanting little story, ‘Sunny Goes Home’ – later translated into Edward Childs Carpenter’s play ‘Connie Goes Home’ – Billy Wilder’s The Major and the Minor (1942) is an enormously delightful light comedy of errors that continues to amuse, primarily due to Ginger Rogers’ convincing portrayal of an adult revisiting her second childhood out of necessity.  In retrospectives, Rogers’ career has been rather unfairly summarized almost exclusively as the ‘other half’ of Fred Astaire’s tenure at RKO. Rogers in her golden years, indeed, took umbrage to this myopic view of her talents. “I did a lot more than that,” she once told a reviewer. And most definitely she had. Rogers, who began her career as a common hoofer and chorine in movies like 42nd Street (1932) and Gold Diggers of 1933, before finding ever-lasting recognition as Astaire’s revived dance partner, would move into a spate of superb roles, including an Oscar-winning turn in Kitty Foyle (1940), and far better performances (the Academy overlooked) in Stage Door (1937), Vivacious Lady (1938), Roxie Hart (1942), I’ll Be Seeing You (1944), and Storm Warning (1951), to name but a handful of her 94 film credits. The truth is Ginger Rogers was already a star before she met Fred Astaire, an independent and her own woman while making the Astaire/Rogers pictures, and afterward, remained the epitome of ole-time Hollywood glamour and professionalism until her death in 1995; a great lady to the last. Perhaps the most incredible thing about her performance in The Major and the Minor is that, at age 31, Rogers manages to convince not only co-star, Ray Milland, but also the audience she can pass for a love-struck girl of barely thirteen.
I am not entirely certain by what actor’s osmosis this metamorphosis works. But it does, and, to utterly marvelous effect; Rogers, indulging in a sucker, or making one out of Milland and his male cohorts, thoroughly true-to-life as she convinces us she can barely tie her own shoes, much less share in the full-bodied affections with the forthright mature male of the species. The part was, in fact, very dear to Rogers' own heart, reminiscent of those early hard years when money was tight and, while touring in Vaudeville with her mother, Rogers had to feign the pallor of youth to escape paying full fare when travelling. To add to the authenticity of her chameleon’s turn, Rogers would roll down her stockings and clutch a tattered dolly. Meanwhile, by 1942, co-star, Ray Milland had amassed a decade’s worth of impressive credits to his name. Prior to becoming an actor, Milland served in the Household Cavalry as an expert shot in his company’s rifle team. The acting bug bit after he was introduced to American actress, Estelle Brody in 1928; his meager first appearance on film marked one year later in E.A. Dupont’s Piccadilly (1929). Within the year, Milland had achieved a six-month contract. Then, in 1930, Milland was offered a nine-month contract at MGM; Hollywood’s beckoning, leading to minor parts in the studio’s homegrown product and several loan outs to Warner Bros. Alas, when MGM elected not to renew, Milland discovered the cruel pall of unemployment. It lasted 5 months, with a move back to Britain; then, another back to the U.S. and the real kick-start of his rise to prominence at Paramount Pictures. Signed to a 7-year contract, for the first little while, Milland split his time between Paramount and loan outs to Universal. As his popularity with audiences blossomed, so did his salary.  
Arguably, what made Milland so utterly appealing during these early years was his adaptability, as easily ‘at home’ in romantic comedies as period dramas and congenial to a fault, never upstaging the many leading ladies – some more temperamental than others – with whom he was paired. Everyone like Ray Milland and by the time of The Major and the Minor, he was considered Grade ‘A’ Hollywood beefcake, to be peddled and paraded at a premium on the screen.  As the U.S. entered WWII, Milland was slightly unsettled by his rejection from enlistment due to an impaired left hand.  Nevertheless, he did his part as a civilian flight instructor for the Army. If anything, one can see a certain ambivalence in Milland’s Maj. Phillip Kirby – a sort of reluctance to appear in the uniform he would never ‘officially’ wear in life. Nevertheless, Milland’s giddiness plays exceptionally well against Rogers’ adolescent confidence in the picture – their playful sparring reaching its zenith of awkwardness during the cadet’s ball, where Kirby clearly feels a sense of duty to protect Rogers’ Susan Applegate, not only from the roués and cads, but also his own uncertain, yet burgeoning feelings of a love most improper between a teenager and an adult, but absolutely acceptable between a full-grown woman and a man. Reportedly, director, Billy Wilder, having already observed Milland’s work on the screen, made the impromptu offer for him to co-star in the picture while catching up to his automobile at a red light. Startled by the proposal, Milland agreed to read the screenplay by Wilder and Charles Brackett, telephoning the director later, after having read it, with eagerness to play the part originally scripted for Cary Grant. Initially, Wilder planned to cast noted actress, Spring Byington as Susan’s mother. Rogers, instead, suggested her real-life mama play the part. Wilder agreed and Lela was cast.
As a neophyte director, Billy Wilder was to place his faith and trust in editor, Doane Harrison who was then editing Hold Back the Dawn (1941) – the picture Brackett and Wilder had written just prior to this one. Incidentally, The Major and the Minor contains a hilarious moment where a young girl at the train depot shows her mother a newsstand magazine with the gripping headline reading, ‘Why I Hate Women: by Charles Boyer’ – a snub at Boyer who, having co-starred in Hold Back the Dawn had used his considerable clout to get a particular scene of which Wilder and Brackett were proud, excised from its final cut. It was precisely this sort of sardonic sweet revenge for which Billy Wilder’s latter-day films would be celebrated. If Wilder cared not for Boyer, he would go on after The Major and the Minor to sing Harrison’s praises; the editor affording Wilder a backstage glimpse into the ‘technical’ side of film-making and the strengths of ‘cutting in camera’ to hasten the spontaneity of the editing process. This not only expedited post-production considerably, but it also saved money on film stock during principle photography, and such economizing highly pleased the executive brain trust running the studio. Harrison would remain Wilder’s ‘go-to’ on every picture from The Major and The Minor, right on through to 1966’s The Fortune Cookie.
Since Rogers’ Oscar-win for Kitty Foyle she had been afforded director approval on all subsequent projects. As Leland Hayward represented both Rogers and Wilder, he interceded on Wilder’s behalf to arrange a luncheon appointment to discuss this project with Rogers. To say Rogers found Wilder charming during this initial meeting is an understatement. "I've always been a good judge of character,” Rogers later recalled, “He was a real European gentleman and I decided then and there…Wilder had the qualities to become a good director. (He) certainly understood how to pay attention to a woman.” Despite his lack of experience, Ginger Rogers’ admiration for Billy Wilder only continued to grow as production commenced. “We had a lot of fun making the picture. It was that kind of story. And even though it was his first film, from day one I saw that Billy knew what to do. He was very sure of himself. He had perfect confidence . . . I've never been sorry I made the film. The Major and the Minor really holds up. It's as good now as it was then.”
In The Major and The Minor, Rogers is a New York scalp massage treatment therapist, Susan Kathleen Applegate. Assigned to a private session at the apartment of wily middle-aged playboy, Albert Osborne (Robert Benchley), Susan quickly discovers Al wants a lot more than his scalp massaged. After assaulting him with some raw eggs, Kathleen makes haste to Grand Central Station – resigned to give up the big city and go back home to Iowa. One problem, the original fare she saved for this rainy day has since been increased by the railroad. However, Susan gets the bright idea to impersonate a child of twelve, thereby only having to pay half fare for her trip. Cleverly disguised sans makeup and with pig tails, bobby-socks and a balloon no less, Susan convinces a conman (Tom Dugan) to impersonate her father and buy the ticket. He does – then absconds with the remainder of Susan’s money leaving her penniless. After some awkward business with the conductors, Susan hides in the traveling compartment of Major Philip Kirby (Ray Milland at his most aimable and charming). Alas, he buys into Susan’s act, lock, stock and barrel. She is a 12-year-old child and he takes pity on her, offering his lower berth for the night. Philip even encourages Susan to call him ‘uncle.’ However, when the train becomes stranded in the middle of nowhere, Philip is retrieved by his fiancée, Pamela Hill (Rita Johnson), who first ‘mistakes’ Susan for his love interest, then accepts the aptly nicknamed ‘Su-Su’ as a child and moves her into her home until suitable transportation can be arranged to get her home.
Pamela’s home is conveniently located near a military training academy run by her father, Colonel Oliver Slater Hill (Edward Fielding). Philip is one of the school’s instructors. Hence, ‘Su-Su’ quickly finds herself at the mercy of adolescent testosterone-kicking young men eager to make her acquaintance. She is fawned over and pawed by the cadets in some truly inspired hilarity. While the adults are haplessly hornswoggled by Susan’s baby talk, Pamela’s younger sister, Lucy (Diana Lynn) is not buying the act for a minute. Confessing the truth to Lucy, Susan becomes involved in Lucy’s plan to free Philip from her sister’s clingy reserve that has thus far stifled his desire to travel the world as part of the Armed Forces. In the end, it ends predictably enough, with Susan, having confessed both her age and her love for Kirby, and having it reciprocated in return.
The Major and the Minor did more than mark Billy Wilder’s directorial debut at Paramount. It firmly established him as a force of rare sardonic wit, amply endowed with the spark of creative genius that could straddle two chairs at once: screenwriter, and, director. Wilder reportedly chose to make this movie because of its commercial viability – a ploy to win points with the studio’s top brass so he could then pursue more ambitious projects later on. Indeed, in retrospectives of Wilder’s career, The Major and the Minor is often, either never even mentioned, or only briefly footnoted as the springboard for the illustrious career that followed it – a genuine shame, since the script is a winning succession of rare comedic twists and even more joyously unusual surprises, freshly blended into a seemingly effortless souffle. Finding Ginger Rogers in rare form, playing less than half her real age, and convincingly, is only part of the picture’s enduring charm and legacy. Rogers excels so completely at faking adolescence that she easily turns back the clock. And Ray Milland, then something of the matinee heartthrob du jour, has never been more charismatic as a leading man – with few exceptions, an underrated actor of considerable scope and depth. The supporting cast all perform with great skill and agility. In the final analysis, The Major and the Minor is a movie to be revisited over and over again – a rare gem, warm and generous in its laughter, hewn from a vintage when such gems were very plentiful indeed.
Arrow Academy’s Blu-ray, derived from Universal’s alliance, reveals more information within the frame than the DVD release from 2008. The image is also considerably brighter and sports a heavy patina of film grain. A word on this: I am unable to completely recommend the overall lighter image as it fails to introduce any real blacks; the register falling between mid and high range with velvety grays and occasionally blooming whites. Is this how The Major and the Minor really looked in theaters in 1942? There is, I might also point out, nothing wrong with the way this image looks. It just lacks the subtleties in lower registers of contrast I anticipated. Age-related dirt and artifacts still appear, but are greatly tempered. Arrow’s DTS 1.0 mono audio is satisfactory with zero hiss and pop. Arrow packs on the extras, starting with an informative audio commentary from film scholar, Adrian Martin who provides the most comprehensive coverage, not only of the movie’s production but the period and climate at the studio in which it was made. Top marks for this! We also get a half-hour appreciation by critic, Neil Sinyard, plus another half-hour archival interview with Ray Milland, and, the rarely heard hour-long radio adaptation from 1943 starring Rogers and Milland. Add to this, an image gallery, trailer, reversible packaging with original and commissioned artwork, plus a 20-page collector's booklet with photos and an essay by Ronald Bergan and, well, this is a classy release of a great vintage comedy. Bottom line: The Major and the Minor is a deliciously ribald comedy that turns sexual mores on their head as much as it warms the heart with its heart-felt ‘feel good’ story. This Blu-ray exhibits a solid, if marginally brighter than expected 1080p transfer with higher than normal grain levels. Is it genuine to the original look of the movie? I can’t help to think not, and would have liked to see Uni go for a full-on remastering effort before exporting this to a third-party distributor like Arrow. Judge and buy accordingly.
FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)
4.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS

4

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