THE RAINS CAME (2oth Century-Fox, 1939) Fox Home Video
Widely regarded as the most prestigious year in motion
pictures, 1939 remains a cultural touchstone and the standard bearer for
Hollywood’s industry standards. With so much iconic entertainment being
produced during this twelve-month stretch it is almost forgivable Clarence
Brown’s The Rains Came (1939) escaped the Oscar nomination for Best
Picture. Cribbing from Louis Bromfield’s
celebrated novel, screenwriters, Philip Dunne and Julien Josephson managed a
minor coup, faithfully adapting Bromfield’s dense prose into a comprehensively
enthralling cinema language. The Rains Came is book-ended by romance and
tragedy, also by spectacle and sin – always a winning combination at the box
office. The picture is permeated with some of the finest travelling matte
special effects, and, exceptional performances throughout. For once, 2oth
Century-Fox studio chief, Darryl F. Zanuck looked outside his own stable of
stars, acquiring the loan outs of leading man, George Brent from Warner Bros.
and Myrna Loy and director, Clarence Brown from rival MGM. The machinations
Zanuck must have gone through to secure these talents (in an era when stars
remained indentured to one studio under ironclad contracts, and the
cross-pollination of the star ‘gene pool’ was virtually unheard of) must have
been considerable. The fruits of their participation in this movie are nothing
short of commendable. The rights to The Rains Came had actually been
acquired first by David O. Selznick, alas, by 1938, embroiled in the many
production delays incurred on what would ultimately become his opus magnum – Gone
With The Wind. It is likely Selznick relinquished his stakes to Zanuck
simply because he had neither the time, money, nor even the patience to produce
another hefty adaptation. Whatever the circumstances, Zanuck acquired the
rights to Bromfield’s book without much of a struggle, rumored to have paid a
cool $25,000 for the honor.
Today, Louis Bromfield’s literary distinction has been
all but mislaid. However, in his own time he was one of the most prolific
authors of that rare ilk with an uninterrupted streak of thirty best
sellers, rivaling the prowess and popularity of such literary giants as Ernest
Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Hollywood courted Bromfield like no other as
writers were then considered a dime a dozen and paid almost as little for their
wit and prose. But to Bromfield, the gates to Tinsel Town were thrown open with
great fanfare and admiration, affording the author unprecedented access to this
movie-making mecca, and, the opportunity to befriend some of the biggest and
brightest names working in the industry, many of whom became lifelong friends
(Greer Garson, Humphrey Bogart, Myrna Loy, Mae West, Lana Turner, and James
Cagney among them). You know what they say about Hollywood - it’s all about the
nepotism. Bromfield’s novels were among the very first to be adapted into
feature-length films. By the mid-1930’s, he was already a legend in his own
time, considered something of a cultural mandarin in two forms of popular
entertainment - literature and the movies. Bromfield’s own celebrity extended
well beyond these fabled walls. Indeed, his engaging personality, occasionally
prone to fits of pomposity, had won him the respect of Indian maharajahs and
British royalty. He would spend a lifetime torn between two great loves –
writing and farming, his experimental concept of crop rotation (then considered
brazenly unorthodox) eventually accredited with bringing about an end to
America’s dust bowl. At the height of his affluence and influence on popular
culture, Bromfield threw it all away to move back to Ohio and establish Malabar
Farm – a conservationist preserve that continues to operate as both a functioning
farm and state park to this day. It is here where he wrote his two most
acclaimed novels; The Rains Came and Mrs. Parkington - each
imbued with Bromfield’s inimitable brand of unvarnished critique of cultural
prosperity run amok.
In hindsight, The Rains Came is the beneficiary
of Clarence Brown’s astute gifts as a storyteller. Like Zanuck, Brown
worshiped great literature as his God. Brown’s back catalog of accomplishments
at MGM reveal a very fine array of screen adaptations, spanning the
intellectual chasm from Leo Tolstoy to Eugene O’Neill, from Enid Bagnold to
James Fenimore Cooper and beyond. Working very closely with Zanuck and
screenwriters, Dunne and Josephson, Brown tempers Bromfield’s more unvarnished
portrait of British colonialism with a warm rose-colored patina that harks even
further back to England’s supremacy on the world stage; Bromfield’s
fictionalized province of Ranchipur the beneficiary of Brown’s beloved
valentine. Today, we tend to forget Britain never ruled the whole of India, but
rather principalities and provinces within its vast and socio-politically
complex makeup, occasionally working with the Indian aristocracy to ensure a
general continuity of culture, though not without infusing these newly acquired
dominions with their own time-honored traditions and laws, oft at the point of
a gun, always at the expense of even the most basic understanding for whatever
social etiquette already existed. This disconnect in imperial colonialism, and
its inevitable resentment by the indigenous peoples, is completely absent from The
Rains Came; Zanuck, determined to open with that warm and fuzzy declaration
of communal well-being, also adding his own prescient commentary on the looming
European conflict soon to engulf half a hemisphere in flames.
Our protagonist, Tom Ransome (George Brent) is thus
seconded to the cause of instilling this sad-eyed clarity, made from the
comfort of his veranda (an obvious reference to America’s own affinity for home
and hearth) as he admiringly stares at a statue of Queen Victoria. “I’ve got faith in a lot of things…” Tom
tells Major Safti (Tyrone Power cast as the copper Apollo of the piece), “For
instance, Queen Victoria. To you she’s only a statue. But to me, she’s an old
friend. A living reminder of the fine brave days before the world went to seed.
When London Bridge did it’s falling to a dance step – not to the threat of
tomorrow’s bombs. When every American was a millionaire…or about to be one…and
people sang in Vienna. There she stands in her cast iron petticoat, unconcerned
about wars, dictators and appeasement, as serene as ever. God bless her.” Tom
is a weary middle-aged romantic, misinterpreted by his contemporaries as
something of a wanton, thanks to a series of indiscretions committed in his
youth. But he is more clear-eyed and clairvoyant than any who surround him,
able to see India for her innate value and beauty; also, to appreciate the
tenuous nature of his own presence – and that of the British consignment within
her borders, telling his former flame, Edwina Esketh (Myrna Loy) “….in
Ranchipur, the important things in life are the elemental things… crops,
starvation, and weather. In Europe, when someone says ‘It looks like rain’, in
all probability, he’s trying to make polite conversation. But here, where
people die as easily as they’re born, they’re speaking in terms of life and
death. You'll see what I mean, if you're still here when the rains come. You'll
see them overnight turn the fields, the gardens and the jungles from a parched and
burning desert, into a mass of green that seems to live, to writhe and to
devour the walls, the trees and the houses.”
There is, of course, a sort of native prophesizing to
Tom’s character, only possible when looking back on one period in history from the
vantage – and advantage – of another considerably removed. But the
Dunne/Josephson screenplay does more than its fair share of foreshadowing, and,
rather successfully too. The Rains Came is imbued with all the exotic
mysticism for this far off land. One of Hollywood’s great pictorial strengths
has always been its ability to will verisimilitude from its own preconceived
and glamorized notions about other cultures. There’s just enough of the ‘real
India’ in The Rains Came to make one forget what we are seeing is not
India, or even a reasonable facsimile, but the clever reconstitution of its
finer points of interest, cleverly remade lush and idyllic on a back lot in
Southern California. As many living in America then had never had the
opportunity to see India firsthand, much less study it in any great detail in a
book of pictures – this facsimile of Ranchipur both serves and satisfies the
Anglo-Saxon/Judeo-Christian impression of another place worthy of our need to
daydream. Zanuck’s re-education of America’s fascination for foreign cultures
is complimentary to Bromfield’s rich tapestry of melodrama and Zanuck’s own
compellingly opulent pictorialization of the tragi-romance.
The Rains Came was an important film for 2oth
Century-Fox. Indeed, Zanuck was committed to elevating the overall tenor of his
still fledgling studio in direct competition with Hollywood’s big leagues, most
notably, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. The Rains Came manages not only to hold
its’ own in a year of bright, shiny baubles put forth by the other dream
factories, but also to stand head and shoulders above most any of its
competition - save Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz and,
arguably, Gunga Din. Despite Zanuck’s zeal for nuggets of wisdom, the
audience is never cheated out of the story’s intrinsic entertainment value. We
get both style and substance here, sumptuous visuals wed in their purpose and
platitudes; all of it, infectiously blended into one telescopically focused
artistic mélange designed to impress, enthrall and, yes, entertain with a
capital ‘E’. The Rains Came is
also unique among the studio’s output for its rather superficial gloss. Zanuck
was generally interested in stories that explored some sort of moral, social or
political crises. The Rains Came does touch upon all of these factors at
varying intervals. But never do any of the aforementioned become ‘the issue’ of
the picture. In hindsight, this allows the audience their own refreshingly
original perspective, while affording them the opportunity to bask in the
supreme artifice offset by this doomed triumvirate of lovers: Edwina – caught
in a loveless marriage until fate intervenes, and, caught between her past as a
malicious man trap, and future happiness never to be with the more altruistic,
Major Rama Safti (Tyrone Power at his most dashing) who might have embraced
Edwina’s reborn piety, if only she had lived to see the day.
The movie’s strength is, of course, encapsulated
within these sexual intrigues, some more seriously handled than others.
Edwina’s spurious former life is given more critical merit and weight than
Ransome’s carousing, viewed within the sexual politics of its day and context
of the film and its’ even more Puritanical code of ethics, from an almost
playfully screwball perspective, particularly George Brent’s scenes played
opposite, Brenda Joyce, making her screen debut as the winsome – if gingerly
sly Рing̩nue, Fern Simon. Despite her
youth, Fern is already a woman, and on par with Ransome’s predilections for
sultry gals who know the score and aren’t afraid to keep a running tally besides,
though it will take the better half of the movie – two natural disasters (an
earthquake and a flood), and, a national crisis (the death of the region’s
beloved Maharajah, played by H.B. Warner) - for Ransome to realize as much. Our
story begins at Tom Ransome’s home. Ransome, something of a disgraced –
although highly eligible – aristocrat, is lazing around his front porch on a
stiflingly hot afternoon, content to pick off playful monkeys from a nearby
tree with his slingshot. At once, we sense Ransome is a dabbler, bored with
life and its shallower pursuits, finding himself the best company of all –
except perhaps for Major Rama Safti, who in short order arrives for his
afternoon call - the car driven by nurse Mac Daid (Mary Nash). Noticing the
half-completed portrait of the Maharani resting on a nearby easel, Safti
questions whether Tom has plans to ever finish anything he starts. In reply,
Ransome offers Safti a drink, the men enjoying each other’s company until the
unwelcomed intrusion of enterprising, Mrs. Simon (Marjorie Rambeau) and her
daughter, Fern. Simon has come with an
invitation to a party she is giving at the British Colonial Club later in the
afternoon for the newly arrived, Lily Hoggett-Egburry (Laura Hope Crews).
Ransome attempts to disentangle himself from this
invite, but to no avail. A short while later, he attends under duress, but not
before making a momentary stop at Mrs. Phoebe Smiley’s (Jane Darwell) modest
abode facing the club. Smiley, who is also Ransome’s aunt, runs a small
missionary and school house. We are introduced to her better half, the Rev.
Homer Smiley (Henry Travers). Alas, duty calls and Fern is flung at Ransome’s
head, much to her father, Rev. Elmer’s (Harry Hayden) displeasure. Elmer is a
pious man. Moreover, he is apt to believe the wild rumors about Ransome, dead
certain his daughter will not be among Tom’s future conquests. To stave off the
inevitable, Elmer elects to send Fern away to school. Ransome is spared Elmer’s
penetrating glare and Fern’s fawning by a royal invitation to the palace.
Dressing for the occasion, he arrives early and is heartily greeted by the
Maharajah and Maharani (Maria Ouspenskaya), also Victor Bannerjee (Joseph
Schildkraut), an Indian desperate to fit in and who has adopted British customs
as his own. It seems the party is being given for Lord Albert Esketh (Nigel
Bruce) and his bride, Edwina. Albert is
an arrogant snob. Moreover, he is boorish toward Edwina, who seems perfectly
content to have married ‘a title’ rather than the man. Unhappy circumstance for
all, Ransome and Edwina were once lovers, or rather, Tom was desperately in
love with her, once upon a time. Albert senses the transparency of lingering
emotions but is unable to pinpoint the true significance of their past
relationship.
On advice of the Maharani, who can plainly see there
is something more between Tom and Edwina, Ransome is asked to take Edwina on a
private tour of the palace. Separated from the other guests, these two old
flames exchange cordial stories about what has happened in their lives since.
Ransome rather dolefully hopes Edwina might still be the girl he remembers
rather than the woman she has since become. It’s no use. Time and experience
have had their corrupting influences. Moreover, upon rejoining her husband in
the main ballroom, Edwina is instantly attracted to Major Safti whom she
nicknames the ‘bronze Apollo’. Ransome quietly discourages Edwina of her
infatuation. Safti has important work to do as a newly graduated physician,
recently ensconced at the local hospital. Moreover, it is hinted the Maharajah
and Maharani, though childless, have been contemplating making Safti their heir
apparent. The next day, Albert falls ill with malaria. Bedridden and unable to
keep tabs on his wife, Edwina exploits this opportunity to invite Safti to
their home – presumably to gain his physician’s expertise on a diagnosis for
Albert, but later, plying Safti with a polite cup of tea and some fairly
obvious hints she would like him to show her around the city. At first, Safti
declines. He has heard something of Edwina’s reputation from Miss Mac Daid.
Moreover, he is a very busy man. Still, Edwina is charming, and quite
persuasive. So Safti elects to make time for Edwina, showing her various points
of cultural interest, including the hospital and a music conservatory where
famed Rajput singer of songs, Jama Singh (Lal Chand Mehra) entertains them with
an old chant. The mood is mysteriously dark and foreboding, sending a sudden
chill down Edwina’s back. Meanwhile, Fern has run away from home in the pouring
rain to pledge her love to Ransome. He is, understandably, taken aback by her
impetuosity and sends her home almost immediately.
As the monsoon season approaches, Edwina is invited to
Banerjee’s home for cocktails, along with Miss Mac Daid, Safti, Ransome and a
few other locals. Alas, the evening will take a harrowing turn. An earthquake
levels Ranchipur and causes its nearby damn to collapse, decimating the
village. Safti and Miss Mac Daid make it to higher ground before the bridge is
washed out behind them. But Lord Esketh is doomed, caught in the raging flood
waters. At the palace, the Maharani feverishly works to free her husband from
fallen debris. Mortally wounded, the Maharajah is moved to more comfortable
quarters. The Maharani calls upon Ransome and Safti to mobilize the rescue
efforts. Safti dedicates himself at the hospital while Ransome goes in search
of survivors. Mercifully, his Aunt and Rev. Smiley have been spared, taking
refuge in the mission along with many children who are now orphaned by the
disaster. As plague rips through Ranchipur, Fern and Ransome’s bond of reunion
is strengthened, growing into sincere love. To prove hers to Safti, Edwina
enlists at the hospital. Miss Mac Daid sets an itinerary of mostly appalling
tasks for Edwina to complete, certain she will fail and thus discrediting her
in Safti’s eyes.
Instead, Safti is disturbed by Mac Daid’s lack of
compassion and has Edwina reassigned to nursing duties where she dutifully
tends to the sick and the dying with never a selfish thought for herself. Even
Ransome is impressed by Edwina’s newly discovered sense of duty and propriety,
coming to believe she is, at last, the sort of woman who might make Safti a
noble wife. Tragically, it is not to be. For Edwina, pulling double duty at the
hospital, and momentarily made forgetful with exhaustion, drinks from a
contaminated glass belonging to a dying patient instead of her own, thus
infecting herself with a lethal dose of the plague. A short while later, Edwina
collapses while on duty, dying with Ransome, Fern and Safti at her side.
Tortured by the sudden loss, Safti momentarily slips into self-despair, stirred
and spurred on to assume his rightful duty as the heir apparent to the throne
of Ranchipur - the movie, ending with the Maharajah’s passing and Safti’s
coronation.
Made in any other year, The Rains Came not only
would have been nominated for Best Picture, it almost certainly would have won.
Although Zanuck’s supremely entertaining disaster classic was nominated for six
Oscars, including Best Cinematography and for Alfred Newman’s Original Score,
the singular statuette went to Fred Sersen and Edmund H. Hansen for their
special effects, beating out Buddy Gillespie’s formidable efforts on The
Wizard of Oz (no small achievement). Viewed today, The Rains Came
has lost none of its appeal. Perhaps most startling of all is Tyrone Power’s
stoic performance as an East Indian, ably to convince – or at least bamboozle –
the audience in all its faux glamorization, and, in a way Richard Burton’s
Safti in Fox’s 1955 remake ‘The Rains of Ranchipur’ never even
comes close to achieving. Still, it’s George Brent’s compassionate charmer who
steals the show, and – to a lesser degree – Myrna Loy’s sinful come self-sacrificing
fallen woman, redeemed only to be martyred to the cause in the end. We tip our
hats too to Brenda Joyce, a novice among these ripened talents, but an
undeniably effervescent presence; also, Maria Ouspenskaya – an ensconced and
beloved character actress and acting coach, one of Hollywood’s ‘fixtures’ who
is more indelibly etched into our collective memories in a small role than most
actresses become in much bigger parts.
In the last analysis, The Rains Came is ‘boffo’
big-budget/big-time box office entertainment. It excels, as so many films from
1939 did, in telling its’ human saga. The movie’s message is potently clear and
ultimately life-affirming. Try as they might – the rains cannot wash away the
inevitable march of mankind. No doubt, today’s environmentalists will scoff and
say, “Pity that.” Bottom line: an absolute must!
Will we ever see The Rains Came on Blu-ray?
Debatable, given the acquisition of the Fox library by Disney Inc. Fox Home
Video’s DVD transfer from 2006 is mostly marvelous. Although age-related
artifacts are present, the gray scale is perfectly rendered. Solid blacks,
clean whites and some very sharp contrast levels are all to the good. On the
negative side, there is some light sprocket damage, noticeable in infrequent
gate weave and occasional flicker. We also have some damage in the second reel,
looking faintly reminiscent of ‘Technicolor mis-registration’ if only The
Rains Came were not shot in B&W!
Distracting halos suddenly appear around Fern and Tom in the scene where
she skulks off to his home in the pouring rain to profess her love. It’s a
brief sequence, the anomaly briefer still and correcting itself. Otherwise, the
image is fairly refined and with a goodly amount of fine detail that will
surely not displease. The audio has been remixed to 2.0 Dolby Digital faux
stereo. I am not a huge fan of this, since the effect is not all that
impressive, re-channeled to come out of all the speakers instead of one, but
with no ‘discrete’ channeling between sound effects, music and dialogue.
Thankfully, we also get the original mono, which is more than adequate. The
only other extra of merit is an interesting audio commentary by film
historians, Anthony Slide and Robert Birchard. The stills gallery is little
more than an excuse to slap together a handful of movie poster art and a few
B&W photographs taken on set. We also get a severely worn theatrical
trailer. Bottom line: very highly recommended for content. Recommended for
presentation. Now, if we could only get Disney’s home video division to commit
to a Blu-ray...hmmm.
FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
2.5
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