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litlover12) wrote2015-08-02 12:24 am
litlover12) wrote2015-08-02 12:24 am
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The Scapegoat (1959)
This post is for the British Invaders Blogathon at A Shroud of Thoughts.
Novelist Daphne du Maurier is best known for Gothic romances like Rebecca; her 1957 novel The Scapegoat -- part mystery, part thriller, part domestic drama -- though excellent, has largely flown under the radar. A recent BBC adaptation starring Matthew Rhys, which changed the setting from France to Britain and altered many other major elements of the story, brought some attention to it. But there's a previous version, a 1959 feature film directed by Robert Hamer and starring two of my favorite actors -- Alec Guinness and Bette Davis -- that I believe deserves to be much better known. (Hopefully, its release on DVD by Warner Archive will help with that!)
The story concerns John Barratt, a British teacher on vacation in France. The film opens with his melancholy voiceover telling us of his loneliness and lack of prospects for the future. But in one particular town, he suddenly seems to have friends everywhere, with various people greeting him as though they recognize him. He soon discovers why: There's another man in town who looks exactly like him, a French count named Jacques De Gué. The story is largely a realistic one, but du Maurier never could resist a touch of the uncanny even in her most realistic stories, and the moment when John confronts his doppelganger in a bar has that in spades.
Things are about to get even more uncanny for John. His double proceeds to get him drunk, take him to a hotel to sleep it off, and then abscond with his things, leaving John the next day to protest to Jacques's chauffeur that, no, he's not actually a French count. Naturally, he isn't believed. The chauffeur manages to get him to the family chateau, where none of Jacques's family believes him either, but he finds himself instantly bonding with Marie-Noel, the count's young daughter. Before long, not having any other choice, the unassuming Brit soon finds himself settling into the role of landowner, business owner, and family man (though the last part gets a bit complicated when he discovers there's a mistress in the picture as well). In fact, he finds himself becoming even better at the role than Jacques himself, being a kind person who wants to help this troubled family rather than a cold and calculating specimen like the original count. The darkness and cramped feeling of the early scenes lightens and lifts as the movie progresses, and not just because the chateau is a more expansive setting than the small bar and the seedy hotel, but because John is finally finding a place in life among people he cares for.
What John isn't counting on is that Jacques, though not on the scene, is still calculating, and that his plan -- the whole reason he forced John to take his place -- may bring disaster on the unsuspecting family.
Various tensions on the set -- Davis being her most diva-ish, Hamer's drinking interfering with his directoral duties, a falling-out between du Maurier and Guinness, script problems, and more -- resulted in an unhappy shoot and a film that most of those involved considered a failure. I disagree. I find it a taut, well-told story with compelling characters and strong performances. Guinness is famous for his ability to create remarkable and eccentric personalities (Professor Marcus in The Ladykillers, Col. Nicholson in The Bridge on the River Kwai, all eight D'Ascoyne relatives in Kind Hearts and Coronets), but sometimes I like to watch him play it straight, and see the emotional depth he can bring to even the most "ordinary" of characters. Plus there's the fun of watching him play against himself! Reportedly Cary Grant was originally up for the double role, but -- and I say this as one who loves Cary Grant and deeply admires his talent -- I don't believe he could have shown the subtle but sharp differences between the two characters as successfully as Guinness does.
He doesn't do a French accent as the count, but then no one in the film does. I think this was a mistake, but at least they didn't make the bigger mistake of having a hodgepodge of accents among the supposed French people. (Only Nicole Maurey as the mistress has one, and I'm not even sure what it's supposed to be -- the actress was French, the character in the book was Hungarian, but Bette Davis's character refers to her as an Italian! Since she doesn't interact with anyone but Guinness, however, it's not a big deal.)
The rest of the cast is quite strong as well; I'll take time to mention just a couple of them. Davis, as the count's mother, has only three scenes, but as you might expect, she makes the most of them. Guinness and du Maurier didn't like her performance -- Guinness thought she simply spat out her lines without really getting deep into character -- but, again, I have to disagree. Spit them she might, but her towering personality suits the role and she makes it work.
Young Annabel Bartlett had a big challenge in the role of Marie-Noel, a young girl with a morbid imagination and an overdeveloped taste for saints and martyrs, but she handles it quite well. She makes her character just weird enough to fascinate but not weird enough to repel, and her bond with her "father" feels warm and real. Her spirituality may come across as somewhat wacky, but it too is very real, and it allows her to serve, however unwittingly, as a sort of guide and helper to John in the middle of his ethical difficulties.
The story in fact has religious overtones that are rather interesting coming from du Maurier, who was not especially religious. It would have had even more of them, but the final scenes were significantly changed, giving the film a superficially satisfying ending. The original ending was bleaker in one way, but deeper and more fulfilling in another way -- one reason I recommend reading the book.
But I also recommend seeing the movie as well. No one involved may have liked it much, but they put some very good work into it all the same, and their accomplishment has held up quite well over the years. I even have a picture of Guinness and Bartlett pinned on my bulletin board (not the same picture as the one above, but one from the same scene), as a testament to my affection for this odd but enticing little film.
Novelist Daphne du Maurier is best known for Gothic romances like Rebecca; her 1957 novel The Scapegoat -- part mystery, part thriller, part domestic drama -- though excellent, has largely flown under the radar. A recent BBC adaptation starring Matthew Rhys, which changed the setting from France to Britain and altered many other major elements of the story, brought some attention to it. But there's a previous version, a 1959 feature film directed by Robert Hamer and starring two of my favorite actors -- Alec Guinness and Bette Davis -- that I believe deserves to be much better known. (Hopefully, its release on DVD by Warner Archive will help with that!)
The story concerns John Barratt, a British teacher on vacation in France. The film opens with his melancholy voiceover telling us of his loneliness and lack of prospects for the future. But in one particular town, he suddenly seems to have friends everywhere, with various people greeting him as though they recognize him. He soon discovers why: There's another man in town who looks exactly like him, a French count named Jacques De Gué. The story is largely a realistic one, but du Maurier never could resist a touch of the uncanny even in her most realistic stories, and the moment when John confronts his doppelganger in a bar has that in spades.
Things are about to get even more uncanny for John. His double proceeds to get him drunk, take him to a hotel to sleep it off, and then abscond with his things, leaving John the next day to protest to Jacques's chauffeur that, no, he's not actually a French count. Naturally, he isn't believed. The chauffeur manages to get him to the family chateau, where none of Jacques's family believes him either, but he finds himself instantly bonding with Marie-Noel, the count's young daughter. Before long, not having any other choice, the unassuming Brit soon finds himself settling into the role of landowner, business owner, and family man (though the last part gets a bit complicated when he discovers there's a mistress in the picture as well). In fact, he finds himself becoming even better at the role than Jacques himself, being a kind person who wants to help this troubled family rather than a cold and calculating specimen like the original count. The darkness and cramped feeling of the early scenes lightens and lifts as the movie progresses, and not just because the chateau is a more expansive setting than the small bar and the seedy hotel, but because John is finally finding a place in life among people he cares for.
What John isn't counting on is that Jacques, though not on the scene, is still calculating, and that his plan -- the whole reason he forced John to take his place -- may bring disaster on the unsuspecting family.
Various tensions on the set -- Davis being her most diva-ish, Hamer's drinking interfering with his directoral duties, a falling-out between du Maurier and Guinness, script problems, and more -- resulted in an unhappy shoot and a film that most of those involved considered a failure. I disagree. I find it a taut, well-told story with compelling characters and strong performances. Guinness is famous for his ability to create remarkable and eccentric personalities (Professor Marcus in The Ladykillers, Col. Nicholson in The Bridge on the River Kwai, all eight D'Ascoyne relatives in Kind Hearts and Coronets), but sometimes I like to watch him play it straight, and see the emotional depth he can bring to even the most "ordinary" of characters. Plus there's the fun of watching him play against himself! Reportedly Cary Grant was originally up for the double role, but -- and I say this as one who loves Cary Grant and deeply admires his talent -- I don't believe he could have shown the subtle but sharp differences between the two characters as successfully as Guinness does.
He doesn't do a French accent as the count, but then no one in the film does. I think this was a mistake, but at least they didn't make the bigger mistake of having a hodgepodge of accents among the supposed French people. (Only Nicole Maurey as the mistress has one, and I'm not even sure what it's supposed to be -- the actress was French, the character in the book was Hungarian, but Bette Davis's character refers to her as an Italian! Since she doesn't interact with anyone but Guinness, however, it's not a big deal.)
The rest of the cast is quite strong as well; I'll take time to mention just a couple of them. Davis, as the count's mother, has only three scenes, but as you might expect, she makes the most of them. Guinness and du Maurier didn't like her performance -- Guinness thought she simply spat out her lines without really getting deep into character -- but, again, I have to disagree. Spit them she might, but her towering personality suits the role and she makes it work.
Young Annabel Bartlett had a big challenge in the role of Marie-Noel, a young girl with a morbid imagination and an overdeveloped taste for saints and martyrs, but she handles it quite well. She makes her character just weird enough to fascinate but not weird enough to repel, and her bond with her "father" feels warm and real. Her spirituality may come across as somewhat wacky, but it too is very real, and it allows her to serve, however unwittingly, as a sort of guide and helper to John in the middle of his ethical difficulties.
The story in fact has religious overtones that are rather interesting coming from du Maurier, who was not especially religious. It would have had even more of them, but the final scenes were significantly changed, giving the film a superficially satisfying ending. The original ending was bleaker in one way, but deeper and more fulfilling in another way -- one reason I recommend reading the book.
But I also recommend seeing the movie as well. No one involved may have liked it much, but they put some very good work into it all the same, and their accomplishment has held up quite well over the years. I even have a picture of Guinness and Bartlett pinned on my bulletin board (not the same picture as the one above, but one from the same scene), as a testament to my affection for this odd but enticing little film.
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