THE SHINING HOUR: Blu-ray (MGM, 1938) Warner Archive
Throughout her
MGM tenure, Joan Crawford aspired to be taken seriously as a great actress. Two
things prevented this; first, L.B. Mayer’s inability to see Crawford as anything
better than a money-making machine his studio could exploit in a series of ‘shop
girl makes good’ fluff that audiences of the day, nevertheless, immensely
enjoyed. In years yet to come, Mayer would brag that “the millions I made
off of Joan built the writer’s building!” Crawford played along. Or rather,
tolerated the typecasting. But she deeply resented it, as her contemporary –
actress, Norma Shearer possessed the luxury of having the studio’s second in
command, V.P. Irving Thalberg, as her lawful wedded husband who thusly
hand-crafted Shearer a career of meteoric highs and diversity in roles. “How
can I complete with that,” Crawford seethed, “She’s sleeping with the
boss!” True. But Shearer was also a great actress. And under Thalberg’s
auspices, she bounded through a unique appointment of lavish spectacles that
eventually earned Shearer the moniker, ‘queen of the lot’. Little did Crawford
suspect the writing was on the wall for her and Shearer after Thalberg’s
untimely death in 1936. Mayer, it seems, had tired of investing in
temperamental screen goddesses. He preferred younger, more malleable talent.
So, by 1938, the
year Crawford made The Shining Hour, she had slipped in box office appeal.
Not even her shopworn ‘shop girl’ fodder was making money anymore. Worse, her
second ‘open’ marriage to MGM matinee idol, Franchot Tone was badly disintegrating.
The couple would divorce the following year, with Tone taking the split badly.
Crawford and Tone had seen Keith Winters’ original play in 1934. Then, at the
zenith of her drawing power at MGM, Crawford begged Mayer to buy the property
for her. While MGM did snatch up the rights, Mayer intended to have Shearer
appear in a planned movie adaptation in 1936. For undisclosed reasons, this
project never came to fruition. Hence, Crawford, now very much on the
downswing, viewed The Shining Hour as her real chance to reinvent her screen
persona, align it more directly with her desire to be considered a superior
actress, and shore up her sagging receipts at the box office. But again, none
of this happened.
And it’s odd
too. Because the Joan Crawford we get in The Shining Hour is quite
unlike anything she had done before and even less characteristic to the
Crawford best regarded from her spate of classics made a decade later at Warner
Bros. So, the Joan Crawford we get in The Shining Hour is a ‘one off’ – or
one of only two times Crawford allowed herself to step out of her comfort zone in
a real/reel ‘character part’. But like that ‘other’ time – 1932’s Rain –
The Shining Hour has since become more of a footnote than a monument to
Crawford’s greatness as a leading lady. What it comes down to is this: Joan
Crawford was a star, not an actress. There’s nothing wrong or condescending in suggesting
as much. Part of the difficulty for Crawford here is The Shining Hour is
more of an ensemble piece than a star-building vehicle. The other problem is
Crawford’s inability to step beyond the ensconced studio glamor, that glycerin façade
she worshipped but to which she eventually became a slave after the mid-forties
as she entered her mid to late forties, while refusing to accept the
march of time and inevitable passing parade of movie stardom had tired of her
particular brand of drama queen. The Shining Hour is not a bad movie.
But it’s hardly an exceptional one either. And while it received mixed praise
upon its release, viewed today it comes across as far more a relic than a
masterpiece.
We first meet
Crawford, or rather, her alter ego, nightclub hoofer, Olivia Riley as a resilient
gal who, nevertheless, has tired of Manhattan’s fast lane. To end the boredom, Olivia agrees to wed
Henry Linden (Melvyn Douglas), a wealthy land owner in Wisconsin, much to the chagrin
of his jealous sister, Hannah (Fay Bainter) who wastes no time employing their
brother, David (Robert Young) to thwart the marriage. David attempts to impugn Olivia’s character, an
effort to earn him a well-deserved slap in the face. Partly out of spite,
Olivia marries Henry to prove to the family she is worthy of inclusion. Yet, upon
moving into her new digs, Olivia quickly encounters opposition from Hannah.
Nevertheless, she makes a valiant friend of David’s wife, Judy (Margaret
Sullavan) who is similarly ostracized by the family. The romantic situation
becomes even more complicated when, upon defending Olivia’s honor from a
wayward farmhand, David begins to harbor sincere affections towards his brother’s
wife. Henry is obtuse to this brewing infatuation. But Hannah becomes
overwrought upon its discovery, torching the home Henry built for his new
bride. Caught in the inferno, Olivia rescues a badly burned Judy from the
flames. David decides he has always loved his wife and tearfully embraces her.
Disgusted by the havoc, Olivia makes ready to depart for good. However, Henry professes
his genuine love for her. She softens and the couple reunite, leaving all the
ugliness behind them.
The Shining Hour is a pretty
pedestrian melodrama, despite the immeasurable roster of talents gone into its
creation. Crawford exudes a genuinely heartfelt exuberance that mellows, then
ripens into a stronger devotion to the man whom, ostensibly, she only wed for
money. Faye Bainter’s destructive harpy is a refreshing departure for an
actress usually typecast in matronly or ‘his gal Friday’ roles. Margaret
Sullavan’s demure lass is also finely established with sedated charm. The real
difficulty resides with the male counterparts. Robert Young’s confused and
slightly randy husband is all over the place. Young plays the early scenes with
calculated integrity. But the latter moments, when he awakens to David’s loves for
Judy, are wholly unbelievable. And Melvyn Douglas appears to have slept-walked
through much of his performance, presumably, in recognition of the fact, the
picture is a woman’s piece with a little testosterone on the side.
Studio stalwart,
Frank Borzage directs this disposable nothing, cribbing from a screenplay by
Jane Murfin and Ogden Nash, remaining relatively faithful to Keith Winter’s
original stagecraft. George J. Folsey’s gorgeous B&W cinematography shows
off time-honored master craftsmen, Cedric Gibbon’s production design, Edwin B.
Willis’ set decoration, and, resident couturier, Adrian’s impossibly
fashionable costuming to its greatest effect. Borzage, who, in a previous life was
a handsome actor, also was honored with the very first Academy Award for Best
Director for 7th Heaven (1927). During the next 3 decades,
Borzage toiled in largely forgettable melodrama, with 108 movies to his credit
(arguably, the most notable, 1940’s The Mortal Storm), switching to
television in the early fifties, with only two more theatrical features on his
horizon. He died of cancer in 1962, 68 years young. The Shining Hour is not Borzage’s
shining moment. It’s too maudlin in spots, and too lumbering elsewhere, squandering
much of its opportunity on a series of melodramatic vignettes that neither sell
the story as high art nor heighten our emotional response to these
superficially sad-eyed women. Two years later, director Alfred Hitchcock would
torch another manor house for the epic finale of his American movie debut, Rebecca
(1940), with another crazy lady – Dame Judith Anderson’s Mrs. Danvers,
toting the boxful of matches this time.
The Shining Hour arrives on
Blu-ray via the Warner Archive (WAC) in a 1080p transfer that positively
sparkles. This is a ravishing example of video mastering for which WAC has long
since become well-regarded. Contrast is universally excellent with rich,
velvety blacks and pristine whites. Fine detail abounds in every detail. Adrian’s
costuming looks spectacular. Film grain is accurately represented. Age-related
artifacts are nowhere to be found. The 2.0 DTS mono showcases Franz Waxman’s
score to its very best advantage. Dialogue and effects are properly placed. The
only extras are a radio program, several vintage cartoon shorts and a
theatrical trailer. Bottom line: for those who admire Crawford’s determination,
The Shining Hour exhibits her steely resolve to elevate lackluster
material to a finite precision in glamorous emoting. It’s still a pretty silly
movie, however, and that’s a pity when Crawford’s superior work under WAC’s
domain, like A Woman’s Face, When Ladies Meet (both made in 1941) or Humoresque
(1946) still remain MIA on Blu-ray. There are two schools of thought here, one
to suggest sour grapes and imply a ‘take what you can get’ mentality to
what the studios are willing to offer up on physical media. But we are far
enough down this rabbit hole, where more of the good stuff should be coming
down the pike along with the oddities and curious failures. Just saying.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
2
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
1
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