A PLACE IN THE SUN: Paramount Presents...Blu-ray (Paramount, 1951) Paramount Home Video

When director, George Stevens returned home from the war, he re-entered civilian life greatly impacted by the atrocities personally witnessed abroad during the liberation of Hitler’s concentration camps. Arguably, Stevens maturation as a movie-maker was not altogether predicated on these war-time experiences. The creator of such frothy and delightful fare as Alice Adams (1935), Swing Time (1936), and, Gunga Din (1939) had already begun to pursue more progressive subject matter in movies like Penny Serenade (1941), Woman of the Year (1942) and the superb, yet devastatingly underrated, The Talk of the Town (1943) before his departure abroad. There is, however, little to deny Stevens’ film-making acumen took on a more sober introspection after WWII, arguably, beginning with 1951’s A Place in the Sun, and to culminate with the retrospectively heart-wrenching classic, The Diary of Anne Frank (1959). Nearly 70-years removed from its theatrical debut, A Place in the Sun is a fascinating movie to re-consider – partly, for its sexual politics (now, to appear more than slightly dated, if nevertheless unnerving) – but mostly as a ‘then’ contemporized version of Theodore Dreiser’s 1925 novel ‘An American Tragedy’ – made into a play of the same name in 1926. Dreiser had based his book on an infamous 1906 case, the untimely murder of Grace Brown at the hands of Chester Gillette, resulting in Gillette’s execution in the electric chair two years later.

Dreiser did not have very far to go for inspiration. Indeed, his novel is practically a retelling of the actual crime; Gillette, poor, but reared in a stringently religious household, seducing a fellow employee at the factory where both worked. Brown and Gillette’s sexual relations reached their crescendo when Brown informed her lover she was with child, and, increasingly demanded from him a proposal of marriage. Returning to her family briefly, Brown was to discover Gillette was courting other women in her absence, including a wealthy socialite, Miss Harriet Benedict. Confronted by Brown, though denying the rumors, Gillette stalled in his commitments until an impromptu decision to whisk the girl away to a retreat in the Adirondack Mountains. At this point, Brown may have mis-perceived Gillette’s intentions as a prelude to a proposal and elopement. Instead, Gillette registered under a false name at the Glenmore hotel, borrowing a rowboat on Big Moose Lake. There, he bludgeoned Brown with his tennis racket before dumping her lifeless remains into the lake and swimming for shore, leaving behind the overturned rowboat and his hat as ‘proof’ they had both drowned together. Alas, hiking through the woods, and checking into the Arrowhead Hotel under his real name, Gillette was promptly apprehended for his crime after Brown’s badly beaten body resurfaced the next afternoon.

As a movie, A Place in the Sun occupies a curious fork in the road for its stars, Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift. First, to Taylor – whose arrival in Hollywood in 1942 had created a minor stir as the ‘new find’, a determined child, with uncannily haunting violet eyes and dark ebony tresses. Taylor’s swift promotion in movies, appearing in such classics as Lassie Come Home (1943) and National Velvet (1944) was inexplicably stalled in her teenage years, seemingly by MGM’s inability to conceive of her as anything better than an exquisite fashion plate and raven-haired beauty. The movies between 1944 and 1951 are therefore largely forgettable with a few bright spots feathered in, among them – A Date with Judy (1948), Little Women (1949), and, Father of the Bride (1950) - the latter, rushed into production to capitalize on Taylor’s pending marriage to hotel magnet, Conrad ‘Nicky’ Hilton that same year. The marriage, alas, did not withstand a rather disastrous honeymoon, barely surviving a year thereafter, before the young marrieds separated. In the wake of this debacle, Taylor’s reputation in pictures could not go back to her being casting as the innocent.  And so, the sex pot/screen siren was born – or rather, cultivated by well-calculated studio PR to catch up to where America’s opinion of the star already resided.  Taylor’s performance as the uncannily mature society girl, Angela Vickers in A Place in the Sun earned her the respect of the industry. Indeed, in retrospect, it marks a turning point in Taylor’s career aspirations – Stevens’ gentle coaxing, to will a startling depth of character from the star who had only previously ‘twinkled’ in MGM’s frothy fare. The somberness with which Taylor infuses Angela’s romantic devastation at the discovery her lover has murdered another girl, truly haunts from the peripheries of the screen as Taylor’s doe-eyed sadness is made wholly believable.

Comparatively speaking, Montgomery Clift had the more ‘important’ career then - the young closeted gay leading man, billed as the all-American stud, to have marked his territory first in Howard Hawks' Red River (1948), then, swiftly as the mind-bogglingly callous suitor in William Wyler's The Heiress (1949), Clift’s performance in A Place in the Sun would cement his popular appeal with young girls, misled to believe his intuitively fragile inner torment was mere sensitivity, and not a predilection for young men. Along with Brando and James Dean, Clift was a disciple of ‘the method’ and a ‘freelancer’, refusing to ‘sign’ a long-term contract with any one studio. This latter decision would greatly benefit his career. And Clift and Taylor would bond over their appreciation of one another’s studio-created hyperbole about their respective sexual proclivities; she, perceived as the viper-ish sexpot, and he, the strapping young buck of every chambermaid’s desires. In hindsight, Clift’s performances in virtually every movie from Red River to 1953’s I Confess, and, From Here to Eternity, reeks of a sort of urgently delicate masculinity, momentarily masked by his undeniable good looks.  And, against Taylor’s patently matured Angela Vickers, Clift’s shy and conflicted George Eastman reveals Clift’s own homosexuality, never more thinly veneered on the screen. Taylor and Clift would remain lifelong friends. Taylor was ardently in support of Clift even after a tragic car accident in 1957 virtually eroded both his looks and confidence overnight.

A Place in the Sun really does present Taylor and Clift at the pinnacle of their physical beauty. Two more handsome people were never seen on the screen – and each’s ability to act as well as look good, amplifies the tragedy of the piece. We bear witness to a couple, so right for each other it hurts, torn asunder by the man’s shortsightedness and blindsided desperation to aspire to a life of affluence with the only woman he truly loves. If not for a Montgomery Clift, the character of George Eastman could so easily have devolved into just another unscrupulous fortune hunter who, having impregnated a girl of ‘his class’, and amplified this mistake by murdering her, now seeks to conceal his crime by inveigling himself into the good graces of a well-to-do household who firmly believe in his innocence. In its day, A Place in the Sun was highly praised. In more recent times, it has become somewhat fashionable to discount Stevens’ methodical pacing as ‘tranquilizing’ and his approach to the intoxicating romance between Angela and George as ‘embellished’. What Stevens has actually done is allow his audience to regress into that moment of euphoria, only completely experienced when one is under his/her own delusional sway of love itself. In one of the movie’s most famous scenes, Stevens allows Taylor and Clift’s gorgeous visages to completely fill the screen, even to the point of going slightly out of focus as the couple draw nearer into each other. It is a mesmeric moment that lets the audience in on Angela and George’s all-consuming lust – the spark, instantly an inferno, felt between these two vibrant, young people, and, crackling with an audacious sexual chemistry rarely witnessed on movie screens at that time.

The screenplay by Harry Brown and Michael Wilson is amply endowed with deliciously escapist passion to briefly intoxicate and detour our Lochinvar from his hefty responsibilities toward Alice Tripp (Shelley Winters), the girl to have come to George first, and, whose pregnancy now hangs about his neck like a millstone, very soon, to become his noose. Ironically, Winters came to A Place in the Sun, not only as its ‘third wheel’ but also, the most accomplished of this triumvirate of stars. Born Shirley Schrift, Winters began her professional career as a model, before studying acting and appearing on the stage in 1941’s The Night Before Christmas, and then, Die Fledermaus which ran for nearly 2 years, from 1942-44, and, 611 performances. Winters also received acclaim as Ado Annie in Broadway’s Oklahoma!, directly to lead to her long-term contract with Columbia Pictures. While the studio kept her working, the pictures were not altogether memorable – or even good; Columbia, mining out her talents to MGM and UA. She would eventually make her splash as the unintended ‘victim’ in George Cukor’s A Double Life (1947), resulting in a move to Universal Studios. Again, a spate on unremarkable movie roles followed; Winters’ most notable performances in 1949’s The Great Gatsby (for Paramount), and Winchester ’73 (1950) for Uni. Originally pegged as the newest ‘bombshell’, Winters campaigned for the role of Alice Tripp in A Place in the Sun to countermand that image of the blonde sexpot by washing off her makeup and appearing for her audition in dowdy rags, more suitable to a girl of Alice’s station in life. Evidently, the trick worked, both with director, Stevens, and AMPASS, who nominated Winters for Best Actress. It would be another 8-years before the little gold statuette adorned her mantel piece.

A Place in the Sun was also nominated for 8 additional Oscars, winning for Stevens (Best Director), screenplay (Michael Wilson/Harry Brown), cinematography (William C. Mellor), costumes (Edith Head), editing (William Hornbeck) and score (Franz Waxman), and, was the first-ever recipient of a Golden Globe for Best Motion Picture. And while the picture dealt with some fairly weighty subject matter, the Production Code’s only real objection was to Alice’s inference of an abortion, altered in a single line, from “Doctor, you’ve got to help me!” to “Somebody’s got to help me!”  A Place in the Sun opens in contemporary 1950. George Eastman – the poor relation of wealthy industrialist, Charles Eastman (Herbert Heyes), is hitchhiking his way into town in the hopes of inveigling himself into Charles’ good graces. Regarded as an outsider by the family, Charles nevertheless takes pity on George, offering him a ground-level job in his company where George proves himself to be resourceful and uncomplaining. While at the factory, George engages fellow factory worker, Alice Tripp, in defiance of its workplace rules about co-worker fraternization. Poor and inexperienced, Alice’s head is easily turned by George’s romantic overtures, and soon, the two become lovers. Time passes. George’s hard work pays off. He moves into a supervisory position, his recommendations for streamlining the workflow reaching Charles’ ears. As fate would have it, this leads to George’s ‘cute meet’ with playful socialite, Angela Vickers. From the outset, it is rather obvious a spark has been lit between these two young people. Soon, George is seen squiring Angela to all the social events, putting a distinct crimp in Alice’s plans to wed George – that is, until she announces she is pregnant with his child.

Clearly anticipating her news will lead to a proposal of marriage, George instead puts Alice off to pursue Angela and spend all of his spare time with her well-heeled friends. George insists Alice abort their child, but to no avail. Regrettably, the whole messy affair culminates with a Labor Day initiation by Angela to the Vickers’ lake house. George lies to Alice about the reasons for his ‘mandatory’ attendance and spends a final, blissful weekend with Angela and her rich cohorts on Loon Lake. There, Angela informs George about a terrible drowning last summer.  Alone in her apartment, Alice spies a picture in the local paper’s society column of George and Angela and demands George make the announcement of their marriage immediately, and this, on the cusp of his achieving every dream he has ever had in life. Alice intrudes on George’s dinner with the Eastmans and Vickers, telephoning the lake house to inform him she is on her way. Shaken by the news, George agrees to collect Alice at the bus depot, returning to the party, but lying to Angela and their respective families that his mother (Ann Revere) has fallen ill and requires his attention immediately. The next morning, George and Alice drive to City Hall to get married. As it is Labor Day, the offices are closed, much to George’s relief. Instead, he takes a very reluctant Alice to the lake, renting a boat. Unsuspecting of his intentions, Alice waxes about their future together, accidentally tipping the boat over when she tries to stand up. Capsized and unable to swim for shore, Alice drowns. 

Although Hollywood’s self-governing Code would not allow George to ‘murder’ Alice, as in Dreiser’s novel, Alice’s death is chocked up as George’s ‘good fortune’ – that is, until he swims ashore, stumbling upon campers who regard his behavior as highly suspicious. Swiftly, George makes his way back to the Vickers' summer home where he awkwardly feigns nonchalance. Alas, George is a terrible liar. Angela senses his unease and, as yet unsuspecting of its crux, tries to comfort him. Meanwhile, Alice’s body is dredged up from the lake with the police, treating it as a homicide. At the lodge, George becomes the police’s prime suspect – a devastating blow to his planned engagement to Angela. George is arrested and tried for Alice’s murder, his secretive behavior before and after her death cited as proof of his complicity and premeditation. The jury agrees. Despite George’s protestations, he is found guilty and sentenced to death in the electric chair. On the eve of his execution, a priest suggests to George, while he may not have actually killed Alice, he did not endeavor to save her either. Hence, in his heart, he had already committed murder. George concurs with this assessment, parted from Angela one last time. She pledges her undying love to him, even as he is taken to be put to death.

A Place in the Sun’s penultimate moments of confession, regret and bitter resolve to be forever parted from true love, effectively earns the picture its place in the pantheon of great American tragi-romances; a sort of fractured Romeo and Juliet, torn asunder by one man’s shabby and frantic ambitions to rise above his station in life. In hindsight, it is the near misses to have derailed our lovers from their perfect union that continues to gnaw at our conscience, stimulating an uncanny pang of regret for George and Angela, even as we regard Alice as the ultimate innocent – and victim – of this tale. Never before – and arguably, never again – would Montgomery Clift allow such transparency into his own closeted homosexuality to be as thinly veiled on the big screen. In hindsight, Clift appears to be reaching from his own wellspring of fear and frustrations to will the complexities of his alter ego - George Eastman into the uneasy strains of a gorgeous, but sincerely flawed leading man. It is this ‘tortured quality’ in Clift’s performance that resonates more clearly today than, perhaps, it did in 1954 with those outside the actor’s inner circle, still unaware of his propensity for male companionship. Alas, the painfulness of that secret would only hasten Clift’s decline after his hellish car accident in 1957, effectively to deprive him of this thin veneer, otherwise effectively to have concealed the truth from the outside world. Without his striking features, Clift’s decline, both emotional and professional, resulted in what would later be coined as ‘the longest suicide’ – Clift, actually dying of a heart attack on July 23, 1966, brought on by occlusive coronary artery disease, and, discovered in his bathtub by his private male nurse. He was only 45-yrs.-young.

Viewed today, A Place in the Sun remains an iconic cornerstone in director, George Stevens’ post-war career. Indeed, Stevens would curtail his activities after the war. Though still highly regarded, and very much in demand, Stevens’ two ambitious projects to follow - 1956’s Giant (for which he won the Oscar as Best Director), and, The Diary of Anne Frank (1959) - seemed to drain the master craftsman, not only of his merits, but also his desire to go on. Stevens would make only two more movies after this – 1965’s The Greatest Story Ever Told - a sprawling, though failed all-star Bible/fiction epic, more readily regarded today for its leaden and plodding narrative, as well as a truly laughable cameo from John Wayne as a Roman Centurion, and, The Only Game In Town (1970) – a footnote in the careers of both Elizabeth Taylor and Steve McQueen. That same year, Stevens was invited to head the jury at the 20th Berlin International Film Festival, a decision to end in scandal when Stevens insisted director, Michael Verhoeven's anti-war film o.k. was anti-American and demanded it be stricken from the roster for consideration. Although he would serve as a member of the jury in Moscow’s 8th International Film Festival in 1973, Stevens had effectively taken his final bow from the limelight, dying two years later of a heart attack on his ranch in Lancaster, California – age, 70.

Shelley Winters, who went on to have a lucrative and enduring career in both the movies and television after A Place in the Sun, would always regard the movie as one of her highlights. Suffering a heart attack in 2005, Winters lingered until the following year, succumbing to heart failure on Jan. 14 – age, 85. Elizabeth Taylor, the longest surviving alumnus of this troop, lived to endure the slings and arrows of a rocky personal life, to include 7 husbands (8, if you count Richard Burton, whom she married twice), a ‘home-wrecking’ scandal, and, an uneven spate of movies to ‘advance’ her professional career well into the 1980’s, using her celebrity as an AIDS activist and perfume/jewelry promoter. Arguably, Taylor remained one of the last indestructible links to ‘golden age’ Hollywood; made a ‘dame’ in 2000, and outlasting the title by 11 years, only to die of congestive heart failure on March 23, 2011 – age, 79. And while movies are often regarded as ‘great art’ in their own time, only to fade into the annals of history, weathered by changing times and tastes, A Place in the Sun remains an affecting tale, truly to live up to Dreiser’s original title as an ‘American tragedy.’ In an age where the word ‘sacrifice’ is an anathema to this go-getter’s acumen, firmly anchored to the cliché of the American dream, A Place in the Sun is a solemn reminder how quickly such aspiration can turn on its possessor, and how suddenly that dream can become our own worst nightmare.

A Place in the Sun arrived on Blu-ray in 2020, from Australian indie label, ViaVision as part of their ‘Imprint’ line and blessedly, ‘region free’ – meaning, it would play anywhere in the world. Alas, the image, advertised as a ‘restoration’ from Paramount, derived from a ‘new’ 4K scan was a travesty, though arguably for good reason. For as Paramount now has deigned to re-issue the picture as part of their own Paramount Presents…collector’s edition line-up, we can clearly see what the ravages of time and a devastating film vault fire have done to one of America’s finest motion pictures. No original camera negatives exist and the elements that have survived are at least 2 generations removed from even a viable print master.  Curiously, the tired old DVD release from 2001 still looks marginally sharper than these Blu-rays, although I suspect this is from an artificial boosting in the contrast which is not present on either hi-def edition. Let us merely suggest that image quality on both Blu-rays is virtually identical, except that Paramount’s release boasts a slightly higher bit rate. This offers a very minor uptick in image stability which, at times, is highly questionable on both releases, with background aliasing adding yet another layer of distortion to an image already to appear tragically soft and slightly out of focus, thoroughly to obscure fine details that were once present in William C. Mellor's Oscar-winning cinematography. My heart bleeds for A Place in the Sun – the image that once was and might have otherwise been in a perfect world where original elements had survived. Paramount’s edition only offers us a 5.1 Dolby Digital audio. The ViaVision was good enough to also include a 2.0 LPCM mono.

Extras have all been ported over from the retired DVD, and include an audio commentary with George Stevens Jr. and associate producer, Ivan Moffat, recorded in 2001, a brief featurette, George Stevens and His Place in the Sun, chocked full of archival snippets from Elizabeth Taylor, Shelley Winters and George Stevens, Jr., plus George Stevens: The Filmmakers Who Knew Him, where directors, Warren Beatty, Frank Capra, Rouben Mamoulian and many others affectionately wax about Stevens – the man, the creative, and, the legend. Finally, we get an original – and badly worn – theatrical trailer. Both Blu-rays contain these aforementioned extras. The Paramount Presents…edition adds a barely 7-minute Filmmaker’s Focus introduction by Leonard Maltin. A bone of contention here. While ViaVision’s release offered us a beautiful slipcover depicting the 3 stars in original artwork to promote the film, the Paramount Presents…edition has gone for some truly dull and uninspired photoshopped ‘pop art’. Like all Paramount Presents…titles, this opens into a gatefold containing different, though nevertheless, original poster art.  I don’t usually complain about the way any studio markets its movies, but honestly, a film to star two of the most stunningly handsome gods of cinema and we get neither depicted in the cover art used to promote the Blu-ray? Are you kidding?!? Bottom line: A Place in the Sun looks nothing like it did when released theatrically. But this is likely as good as it will ever look ever again. When I think of the sheer waste and loss to future generations who will never truly know the magnitude of its one-time Oscar-winning cinematography, I just want to throw up.  For all intent and purposes, the glory that once was A Place in the Sun is a film lost to us for all time. If you already own the ViaVision release, there isn’t any reason to double dip for this one. Regrets.

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

4.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

2.5

EXTRAS

3