Triumph des Herzens

It must have taken courage to cast Cornel Wilde as the frail composer and Merle Oberon as George Sand, but in the Hollywood of 1940s all of the studios were busy churning out inaccurate biographies of musical greats. (Biggest miscasting was Cary Grant as Cole Porter in "Night and Day").

So, it was no surprise when Columbia cast Cornel Wilde, handsome, debonair and athletic, as the composer and proceeded to create a script that had little to do with Chopin's actual life. But they can be forgiven. Film buffs who love serious music will have no qualms with the superb piano work by Jose Iturbi. Wilde does an excellent job of fingering as though he is doing the actual playing--perhaps the reason he won an Oscar nomination.

Handsomely photographed in fine technicolor, it's certainly pleasing to look at and easy to listen to. The only major flaw is Paul Muni, whose acting style here is so grotesquely hammy it belongs to the silent period of film acting. He's given too much footage.

Movie buffs will certainly enjoy this one for the pleasure of seeing Cornel Wilde in his star-making role and Merle Oberon at the peak of her beauty. If it's accuracy you insist on, stay away. It takes all the artistic liberties imaginable--and then some!

For a movie that's about the life of Fredric Chopin the guy who's playing Chopin gets third billing in the film. Cornel Wilde had to settle for third place behind Paul Muni and Merle Oberon. But he's the one that came away with the Oscar nomination for Best Actor.

We're lucky this film got made at all. Paul Muni was a great actor, but sometimes could be very difficult. While he was at Columbia where this film turned out to be the second of three he did there, he formed a friendship with Glenn Ford. But in 1943 Ford went into the Marines and didn't return to Hollywood until 1946. Cornel Wilde who had enlisted earlier got out earlier and when the Chopin project was ready to roll he was assigned the part.

Which disappointed Muni and he made no secret of it to Wilde. Wilde who had admired Muni as an actor and looked forward to working with him was miffed to say the least.

Harry Cohn in his infinite wisdom also banned Bella Muni from the set of A Song to Remember. Muni did EVERYTHING with his wife and she really was his best critic. At Warner Brothers they put up with her. If she said a take was no good, Muni had them do it over. Worked for Emile Zola and Louis Pasteur. But Cohn banned her. As a result Muni was criticized for overacting his role of Joseph Elzner, Chopin's teacher and mentor. It's not his finest hour on the screen, though I love to see him in anything.

Muni also had his supportive side. Nina Foch who played Chopin's sister speaks of Muni's kindness and encouragement to her to stretch herself as an artist.

No acting involved for Merle Oberon as novelist George Sand. The male trousers of George Sand fit Oberon quite well. So does the character. Oberon and Sand were both known to get around in their day.

In real life Fredric Chopin had no conflict between his art and his politics. Though Poland was not a nation for about 130 years, the people in the various countries that occupied Polish soil never forgot they were a nation and would be one again. On instructions after his death, Chopin's body was buried in his adopted city of Paris, but his heart was removed and buried in Poland.

Chopin composed some of the best music that was ever heard on this planet. Jose Iturbi played the various Chopin melodies that will live on until this planet's sun does a supernova.

Cornel Wilde was nominated for Best Actor, but lost to Ray Milland's drunk act in The Lost Weekend. A Song to Remember was nominated in several categories, Best Story, Best Sound, Best Color Cinematography, Best Costumes, Best Musical Scoring. But didn't take home the big prize for anything.

Overlooking some of the historical inaccuracies and Paul Muni's overacting, A Song To Remember is a film to remember.

"A Song to Remember" is one of many bios and biopics based on the lives and careers of great composers. It is a superficial and inaccurate account of Frederic Chopin, executed with rich production values, colorful performances, and fine piano renderings on the soundtrack.

What makes filmmakers constantly churn out these gross fabrications on composers? Probably because with all the emotional and dramatic power of their music, these creative artists surely must have lived very exciting lives.

In truth, the dramatic power and emotional expressiveness undoubtedly took place in their studios, where all the action and revelation raged within their heads, through their fingers, and onto score paper.

Theirs was a world of technical concentration, dedication and execution. It was about problems of form, balance, themes, voicings, instrumentation and the like -- in other words, matters concerning the elements of music.

Not much there in the way of dramatic subject material. Yet screenplay writers, producers and directors go on concocting characters that never existed, situations that never took place, and scenes that impose 'modern' views upon 'classic' events.

Thus we have Lizst ("Song Without End") Mozart ("Amadeus") Beethoven ("Immortal Beloved") Schumann and Brahms ("Song of Love") Kern ("Til the Clouds Roll By") Rodgers and Hart ("Words and Music") and countless others being given The Treatment. Is it truly a song without end?

In "A Song to Remember" we are required to suspend our historical knowledge and go with the flow of romantic melodrama, as the life and career of the Chopin is brazenly exploited for dramatic purposes. Thus we can thrill to the the pianism of Jose Iturbi, revel in the beauty and grace of Merle Oberon, enjoy the young and debonair Cornell Wilde, and devour the rococo posturings of Paul Muni. Were only life really as dramatically pat as this.

Legally filmmakers have no worries over such exploitation. The subjects and families are all conveniently deceased, and it's fair game without risk of lawsuits or infringment cases. Further, the music is, for the most part, in public domain, cancelling out copyright costs.

Therefore we simply place a mental inscription over the portal to these fanciful journeys: "Abandon Your Senses, All Ye Who Enter Here."

Knowing that this was Liberace's favorite film should give you an idea of what this film is like--in fact, his trademark candleabra on the piano was taken from one of the most memorable moments in the film.

This was a high profile production for Columbia in 1945, with lots of money thrown at the sets and costumes, and actually filming in color (remember, Columbia was still a second-rank studio during World War II--usually only spending major money on its Rita Hayworth films). Consequently, this biography of Chopin is beautiful to look at--but a bit overboard at the same time. It's certainly not minimalist!

As if competing with the lavishness of the design, the acting (particularly by Paul Muni) is waaaay over the top, and the storyline refashions Chopin's life into a very heavy melodrama. The dramatics are so ham-handed that the Harvard Lampoon in 1945 gave the film an award for the "ketchup on the keys" sequence. Possibly the most interesting aspect of the film (other than its campiness) is how this costume biography is inflected with aspects of 40s film noir. Merle Oberon as author George Sand is the film's femme fatale, potentially drawing Chopin down the wrong creative path. And, since the film was made while World War II was still being fought, the film has to make allusions to patriotic duty (especially since Chopin was Polish, and World War II officially broke out when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939).

So--you have tons of visual excess, some sumptious renditions of Chopin pieces, and a weird discussion of gender relations and wartime responsibilities. All in all, it's a wild piece of gorgeous junk.

A Song to Remember looks bad now not because it is 54 years old but because it is bad and, notwithstanding its blockbuster reputation, it was bad in 1945. The story is a falsification of Fredric Chopin's life. The miscasting of muscular Cornel Wilde as the consumptive composer is a travesty. And the over-acting of Paul Muni, uncontrolled by the director, is an insult to the intelligence and good taste of the spectator; besides, too much footage is dedicated to him. The magic is, of course, the music, the way Jose Iturbi plays it, and the magnificent color and art direction. But the writing, the direction and the acting are all abominable.