NFR Project: “Now, Voyager”
Dir: Irving Rapper
Scr: Casey Robinson
Pho: Sol Polito
Ed: Warren Low
Premiere: Oct. 22, 1942
117 min.
It’s the most romantic film you could possibly hope for. It’s a woman’s film, but remarkably it’s not about a woman’s relationship with a man; it’s about a woman establishing herself as an independent, integrated personality.
Most “women’s pictures” revolved around a woman’s relationship with a man, for better or worse. Instead, Now, Voyager is about the central character’s liberation from a repressed personality to a free-willed, confident member of society. Containing a revelatory performance from Bette Davis, the movie speaks to the possibility of freeing oneself from negative, destructive patterns into a life marked by inner peace and contentment, a remarkable statement for its time.
Davis is Charlotte Vale, a wealthy Bostonian, a dowdy, subdued, and overweight young woman dominated by her controlling bitch of a mother (Gladys Cooper). She lives quietly in her room until she is treated by the psychiatrist Dr. Jaquith (Claude Rains), who takes her into his care and teaches her how to think, and live, for herself. Almost magically, Charlotte drops some weight and restyles herself into a beautiful swan of a human being.
Jaquith sends her on an ocean cruise to avoid her mother undoing all the work she has done. There she meets Jerry (Paul Henreid), a dashing architect who happens to be trapped in a loveless marriage. The two fall in love, but realize they cannot be together. In a grand romantic gesture, Jerry lights two cigarettes at once and hands one to her – an iconic move repeated throughout the film. (Max Steiner’s lush score underpinning every significant moment, is magnificent.)
Charlotte returns home, and handles her mother handily. (She lights a fire in her home’s long-unused fireplace, symbolically relighting her spirit. She wears camellias, a reminder of her romance with Jerry.) Charlotte gets engaged to a fellow high-society member, but cancels the engagement when she reaizes she still loves Jerry. She tells her mother, who verbally abuses her. Charlotte stands up for herself and it literally kills her mother!
She returns to Dr. Jaquith’s sanitarium, and there meets Tina, the alienated daughter of Jerry and his wife. She befriends her, becoming a second mother to her. Jerry finds out, and wants to relieve Charlotte of the burden of caring for Tina. But Charlotte refuses, insisting that, even though they can’t be together, they can share in the upbringing of Tina. “Oh, Jerry,” she says, “let’s not ask for the moon; we have the stars!”
Davis gives bravura
performance as an ugly duckling who transforms into a healthy and sane person.
She learns how to overcome her feelings of inferiority, asserting herself and
charting her own path in life. (Of course, being a millionaire helps; her gowns are gorgeous.) Now,
Voyager is a paean to self-realization.
The NFR is one writer’s attempt to review all the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological order. Next time: Road to Morocco.
