The Holly and the Ivy (1952)

When it’s on: Monday, 25 December (2.10 pm)
Channel: Talking Pictures
IMDb Link

I confess I had never heard of The Holly and the Ivy before watching it for this piece, and it’s easy enough to see why the film slipped gently into obscurity. Its British middle class setting has little resonance in an era that was being taken over by the kitchen sink, while World War Two, though mentioned in the film, was better remembered in a string of compelling releases throughout the 1950s. Moreover, it’s an adaptation of a play by Wynyard Browne, ensuring the story takes place for the most part in a confined set and focuses on characters talking at the expense of any real action. Relatively short at little more than 80 minutes in running time, there’s an air of lightness, even of whimsy, and a suggestion that the film is inconsequential and eminently missable.

My main reason for acquiring a copy was for the presence of Celia Johnson, one of those actors whose name on the bill guarantees my interest. I haven’t seen many films starring her, principally because she made limited appearances on celluloid and favoured the stage, however she’s always a treat. Best known for Brief Encounter, Johnson was the epitome of that tragic English lady, saddled with duty and what’s expected of her while her emotions and longings are buried as well as they can be. In her case, the feelings would be expressed in her lamplight eyes, the little jawline set as she looks on to some distant horizon to which her dreams are vanishing, wanting to follow and knowing she cannot. In The Holly and the Ivy, she plays Jenny, the eldest daughter of Reverend Martin Gregory (Ralph Richardson), trapped in a life of serving him dutifully while wanting to marry David (John Gregson) and go with him to his job in South America. The contract runs for five years, which means if she doesn’t go then her opportunity for wedded bliss will be over. It’s the quintessential Johnson role in other words, and she doesn’t disappoint.

Her story is one in a sequence of dramatic threads that play out over the course of the narrative. The family is returning for Christmas to the little Norfolk town where Martin lives in his parsonage. For some, like Aunt Lydia (Margaret Halstan, reprising her role in the play), it’s a reprieve from her widow’s existence of living in hotels. To others, the cossetted little world to which they return holds little meaning, as it does for Margaret (Margaret Leighton), Martin’s other daughter who works as a fashion journalist in London. Margaret appears to be the the classic ‘flown the roost’ child who’s moved on to bigger and better things, but she carries a dark side, lapses into alcoholism, which has its origin in a devastating secret that she’s kept for some years. As the family gathers for a happy time together, the demons and resentments they carry will be prised out, and reveal much about how everyone is playing a part so that they don’t upset the Pastor in his Christian and supposedly limited world view.

The comment on tensions between family members at Christmas strikes a note that can resonate with everyone, and there are references to the time it was made that add to the charm. The Holly and the Ivy is set in early 1950s Britain, still an era of post-war austerity that affects everyone, even this middle class family that can’t afford the services of a housekeeper for Martin, in which post-dinner cigars are handed out as a rare treat rather then the norm. Martin’s son, Michael (Denholm Elliott) is in the army, a temporary move he has made to put off his decision over whether to go to Cambridge University, which he knows will be costly. The family’s relationship with their head of the household Pastor is one of falseness, a series of bland pleasantries in which their paramount sensibility is not to upset his beliefs and values, yet withholding information from him is doing him a disservice. As Michael points out, his role isn’t only to provide sermons but to help people, and that includes his own family.

The story therefore builds up to a happy conclusion of sorts, one in which the sources of stress are largely resolved and point to a more hopeful future. In that sense it’s a little pat. The most tragic element of kitchen sink dramas is that there was often no happy ending. No matter what was overcome during the course of the film, the troubles of a difficult working class life remained and always would, so the neat climax as shown in The Holly and the Ivy was simply one battle won in a war of endless attrition against poverty and privation. And in that sense, you can see how this one carries little that can be identified with. That however isn’t the fault of the film, which is set within its own circumstances and remains a nicely acted drama, its characters largely drawn well and calling on memorable turns notably from Johnson, Richardson, Leighton, and Maureen Delaney as a caustic, well meaning Scottish Aunt, played largely for comic effect.

It’s certainly worth a watch, for its ultimate message of hope and its fine acting, also because it’s been very nicely restored and looks good. Fans of Celia Johnson will have much to enjoy; I know I did. As a drama it’s refreshingly adult in tone, one that dwells not at all on fantastic elements or those appealing to children, but rather on the theme of Christmas as a family time, with all the problems and potential for optimism that comes with it.

The Holly and the Ivy: ***

Just to wish everyone who reads these pages a very happy Christmas! Thank you for your support and for reading – love and peace to you all 🙂

Brief Encounter (1945)

When it’s on: Friday, 27 July (3.00 pm)
Channel: Film4
IMDb Link

This can’t last. This misery can’t last. I must remember that and try to control myself. Nothing lasts really. Neither happiness nor despair. Not even life lasts very long.

The 100th review on this site covers one of the unimpeachably finest examples of British cinema, and a reminder that before he was handed lavish budgets and dealt with grand subjects, David Lean was capable of producing genius from intimate little films about ordinary people.

Brief Encounter marked the final collaboration between Lean and Noel Coward. It’s based on the latter’s play Still Life, Lean taking a hand in the linear narrative by telling the story in flashback. Both are instances of economic construction. Celia Johnson was given the role played on stage by Gertrude Lawrence of Laura Jesson, a housewife in her 30s whose routine includes Thursday trips into Milford. It’s during one of these visits, while Laura waits in the Milford Junction train station cafe for her connection, that her ‘brief encounter’ begins. Suffering from grit in her eye, she’s attended to by Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard), a physician who successfully removes it before catching his own train home. Laura thinks little of the incident besides a feeling of gratitude and mild interest, but a chance meeting the following week gives the romance a chance to blossom. Before long, the pair are spending their Thursdays together, Alec forgoing his practice to meet Laura in restaurants and going to the cinema with her. And then they kiss, the start of an affair both know is wrong yet neither wants to end.

The story is told from Laura’s perspective, and her narration provides the film’s heart. From the start of the affair, it’s made clear that she doesn’t really like it. The love she quickly develops for Alec is a sensation she’s trapped within. It’s something she literally can’t help, but it brings her no happiness, only guilt as she returns home to her solid, boring husband (Cyril Raymond), treats every illness her children succumb to as moral punishment and listens to the emotionally turbulent piano concertos of Rachmaninov, which are wholly reflective of her mood. The comparisons with Wuthering Heights – another tale of passion between two people that’s ill advised and brings only misery – are possible to make, but the resolution is entirely different. The film’s called Brief Encounter for a reason. Laura and Alex never go beyond their stolen Thursdays together, and the affair ends when the Doctor takes a job in Johannesburg, giving every impression of fleeing the country rather than letting their relationship develop beyond something they can control.

Also worthy of note is the way the affair develops, from nothing and entirely based on a chance encounter. It’s a sentiment never overly stated, the randomness of life and the way it’s filled with moments like these. What matters is how they’re acted upon, the decisions by Laura and Alec ultimately to suppress their desires and go back to their normal lives. The film’s ending may appear downbeat; it’s easy to imagine a twenty first century picture finishing on the couple giving up their past lives because ‘they’re made for each other’, yet real life isn’t like the movies and Laura and Alec’s parting has the whiff of authenticity. Neither’s a bad person. Both have family commitments, not to mention the fact they love their spouses and children.

Trevor Howard’s career broke on his performance as Alec. He spent the rest of his acting life trying to live the part down, but in hindsight had the happy record of looking back on major roles in the top two British films of the 20th century. But this is Celia Johnson’s picture. Her narration – my copy of the Carlton DVD release features her quietly desperate voice on the menu; it’s really haunting – is just lovely, delivering all the misery and hysteria that her face only rarely conveys. It’s a performance that is surprisingly unsexy. Again, almost impossible to imagine now, but her affair is restricted to passionate kisses. No clothes come off. Neither is she the kind of beguiling beauty that one imagines, though when she breaks into a smile her entire face lights up.

The town scenes were filmed in Beaconsfield, whilst Carnforth Station doubled as Milford Junction as it was on the main line and shots of real expresses powering through could be filmed. The cafe, the film’s pivotal set, was filmed in a studio, and allowed supporting players Stanley Holloway and Joyce Carey to blossom. Holloway’s good natured station master is a treat and plays beautifully against the cafe manager, with Carey affecting graces and sticking to rules in running a tight ship.

Brief Encounter is a wonderful piece of work, acted sublimely and directed perfectly by Lean, who makes it look so natural as though he simply pointed the camera at his performers and let them do the rest. There’s just one scene that lapses into outright fantasy (Laura imagining a glamorous life for Alec and herself); the rest feels organic and so unforced that it’s possible to get the impression the characters ignored the script and started taking the film in the direction they wanted it to go. But that’s great art, and that’s life. As Alec and Laura spend their last, gloomy minutes together in the cafe, they’re interrupted by one of the latter’s gossipy friends. The moment’s shattered. That final kiss never happens. It’s one final tragedy in a film filled with them.

Brief Encounter: *****

This Happy Breed (1944)

When it’s on: Tuesday, 29 May (4.45 pm)
Channel: Film4
IMDb Link

This Happy Breed was the second collaboration between Noel Coward and David Lean. Their first, In Which we Serve, featured Coward as very much the senior partner, co-directing with Lean, the latter taking on the more technical side of the job and the editing process. Two years down the line and Lean was fully in control, adapting Coward’s play with the latter even being gazumphed in the role of Frank Gibbons, the lead part he’d taken on the stage, by Robert Newton.

In many ways, This Happy Breed doesn’t square well with our perceptions of the patrician Coward. Yet the flamboyant wit came from lowly roots, brought up in Teddington, and his play is a kind of paean to the indomitable spirit of the working classes. This is channelled in the film, Lean’s first in colour. It’s about the Gibbons, a family settling into their new Clapham home in 1919, through to their departure in 1939. The head is Frank, returning from World War I to settle back into a normal working life. He likes a tipple, especially with his neighbour and war comrade, Bob Mitchell (Stanley Holloway), but he also has a nice line in earthy wisdom, for instance when dismissing his son’s leaning towards Socialism as a symptom of attempts to seek a better world that will always be undermined by basic human nature. John Mills takes a supporting role as Bob’s son, in love with Frank’s daughter, Queenie (Kay Walsh), and forging a career with the Royal Navy.

Frank’s wife, Ethel, is played by Celia Johnson. A renowned stage actress who was soon to produce her star-making turn in Brief Encounter, Johnson is fantastic as the living personification of the Keep Calm and Carry On ethos. Not exactly a beauty and made up to look appropriately haggard as the lived-in mum of This Happy Breed, Johnson’s performance is just note-perfect. The understated pain she portrayed in Brief Encounter is just as evident here, her saucer-like eyes conveying all the grief and challenge faced by a working class matriarch who’s helpless in the face of her family’s movements.

As Britain recovers slowly from the Great War and slides towards its sequel, the Gibbons keep calm and carry on. They survive the death of one family member, the elopement of a daughter, the tensions inherent in a group of people shoehorned into a house with little diversion but each other’s company. The period detail is wonderful, from the tea service to the new wireless that takes pride of place on the mantelpiece.

There’s an impression of Lean that because he often enough got to work with the best of cast and crew, great films were made almost in spite of him, as if all he had to do was point the camera in the right direction and the various talents around him filled in the great art. The stage origins of the material are clear enough in the way most of This Happy Breed takes place in the Gibbons’ home, but there’s plenty of time for nice little directorial touches that prove Lean’s abilities. A parade of battalions returning from World War I is a collage of different coloured uniforms and triumphal marching music, only for the camera to distance itself from the images and sounds, focusing instead on a cenotaph. Later, the conveying to the Gibbons of their son’s death happens off screen, the camera remaining discretely in the living room and instead picking up the incongruous sounds of the big band music on the radio and kids playing outside, as though it would be unconscionable to intrude on their grief.

It’s a lovely film, worth sticking with through a slow start as the narrative steadily immerses us in the main characters. This Happy Breed also lives on in the theatres, as a run in 2011 starring Dean Lennox Kelly demonstrates. Both the play and film offer us glimpses into a British society that barely exists any longer, such is the effect of two world wars, political shifts and the passing of time.

This Happy Breed: ****