Mein Glück in deine Hände

No Sad Songs For Me expresses what Margaret Sullavan wishes when she learns she has terminal cancer. She thinks she's pregnant, but that's the verdict from her doctor John McIntire. Her problem is now how best to arrange her life's final months.

She'll be leaving behind husband Wendell Corey and daughter Natalie Wood. And Sullavan has an interesting problem on her hands in the person of Viveca Lindfors, a new employee for her surveyor husband. There's a growing attraction between them and normally that would call for claws to come out. But Sullavan is thinking of Wood as well and face it Lindfors is a nice person who's not doing anything to encourage Corey.

As for Wendell he's behaving like a perfect gentleman, but the signs are there.

This is a fine and literate adult drama about a woman facing terminal illness and looking to make the best of it for herself and her family. Sullavan who mostly played tragic roles on screen gives her farewell big screen performance in No Sad Songs For Me. She did do television and stage work until her suicide in 1960.

In fact all the members of that screen family ended badly. Natalie Wood drowned way too young and Wendell Corey became a misanthropic alcoholic who died too young of liver cancer. Read Kirk Douglas's memoir The Ragman's Son to find out about how Corey's career turned bad.

But in this film all the players give strong performances and the film never turns maudlin. That final shot with Lindfors and Wood with Sullavan's shadow looming over them is unforgettable.

Well-heeled wife and mother in her forties, feeling run-down and believing she might be pregnant (!), learns from her doctor she only has ten months left to live; she keeps her secret from her husband and daughter, and doesn't interfere when her spouse gets eyes for another lady. Adapted from Ruth Southard's novel by Howard Koch, this is an infuriating undergraduate of the "Dark Victory" school of script-writing. Solely for the sake of melodrama, Margaret Sullavan's harried housewife begs her doctor to tell her the truth, but doesn't extend the same courtesy to her own husband (Wendell Corey, who instead asks over and over if she's all right, all the while with a pained expression on his face). Strictly a 'woman's picture' of the time, with a magazine serial-styled plot. Some of the dialogue confounds one with its absurdity, and Sullavan is far too efficient and business-like for a one-woman pity party. Natalie Wood skips through the movie in old-fashioned print dresses and braids, but Viveca Lindfors gets the worst of it in the obtuse role of a war-widow who begins to feel like a woman again when she's out with a married man. ** from ****

Although it's sometimes difficult to do, judging a 1950's film with 2000's social mores and sense of letting it all hang out is probably not the best way to view this film, a sensitive and understated tale of a woman with cancer. Having lived through a time when the word was usually whispered rather than stated, and was usually not talked about in polite company, I know that Sullivan's horror at discovering not only that she cannot have a child but that she is also stricken with a killer illness is quietly realistic for the time (this is not a spoiler, such information revealed with the first ten minutes of the film). Sullivan delivers an amazing subtle performance, understated in her refusal to stage hysterical scenes of unhappiness, quietly demonstrating strength in attempting, as many people do, to not "become a burden." Underrated Wendell Corey, who is a powerful player in such melodramas as Harriet Craig and Desert Fury, is Sullivan's Mr. Average Guy, an amiable husband who loves his wife, kid, and work--and it is at work he meets a young woman who tempts him, a woman whose history reveals some hidden strengths. Enough said. Sure it's a weeper, supremely so as it gathers steam, but unlike a Crawford or Davis film, Sullivan's heroine is all about self-effacement and loving no matter what the cost, and thus appears to many contemporary viewers as a dated woman; the Oscar-nominated music score George Dunning (with plenty of help from Brahms) constantly underscores the film with a quiet persuasiveness; the supporting cast, including a delightfully thoughtful Natalie Wood deliver the goods.

No actress during the golden age of Hollywood handled death with more soulful dignity than Margaret Sullavan, an actress unjustly forgotten even though she gave peerless performances in MGM classics like Frank Borzage's "Three Comrades" and Ernst Lubitsch's "The Shop Around the Corner". This modestly budgeted 1950 sudser was her last film, a decade before her own untimely death from a drug overdose. This was one of only sixteen Sullavan made since she preferred acting on stage rather than celluloid, which was a shame since she was utterly sublime no matter what the vehicle. In this appropriate swan song, Sullavan plays Mary Scott, a suburban wife and mother who learns too late that she is dying of cancer. Director Rudolph Maté holds the camera on the veteran actress for long takes as she reacts to this news.

Maté lets her mercurial moods dictate the tone of the film and allows Mary to find a way to die in the most mature way possible. This is where the insightful screenplay by Howard Koch ("Casablanca") rates a cut above similar-minded soap operas. Witness the adult way he has Mary deal with her husband Brad's infidelity and her pragmatic approach in setting up Brad's assistant-turned-mistress, a serious-minded Norwegian draftsperson named Chris, as her successor in the family. While Mary's selflessness is likely to look excessive by contemporary standards, Sullavan brings such an affecting combination of pathos and intelligence to her character that she transcends the innate limitations of the material, including a few predictable turns like a high-speed drive on a deserted highway and a comically drunken scene in an all-night diner.

She even has a couple of moments where she gets to recreate famous dramatic cues from "Three Comrades" such as her irritation at the ticking of an alarm clock and her valiant struggle to get out of bed. Character actor Wendell Corey does a fine job as Brad as does Viveca Lindfors ("The Way We Were") as early feminist Chris, although their affair is severely downplayed to appease 1950 censors. At 11, Natalie Wood was still five years away from "Rebel Without a Cause", but she manages to play Mary and Brad's precocious daughter with aplomb. The film has a low-budget look about it, but it doesn't take away from Sullavan's artistry which is on full display here. To the strains of Brahms' "Symphony no. 1 in C minor", the last scene packs the necessary emotional wallop even though you know the film's outcome from nearly the beginning. There is a newly remastered print on the 2011 DVD release.

As a cancer survivor, I was a little uneasy about watching this. But it packs no punch at all. Maybe it did at the time: After all, until fairly recently, the word "cancer" was not uttered. It is here -- only once or twice and right at the film's beginning.

Margaret Sullavan is the sick person. She has a realistic, nice cozy looking house. She's married to Wendell Corey and their daughter is ten-year-old Natalie Wood. So maybe her passive approach makes some sense. She doesn't try to do anything different or differently, to make the most of her final months, though.

However, her not telling her husband means he is free to spend time with his new assistant Vivica Lindfors (who is excellent in her role.) I guess it's that 58 years have passed since this was made. Whatever the reason, I found it myself unmoved.

Mate's direction is sure and the musical score, from Beethoven and Wagner, is appropriate. Generally, though, I found it a disappointment.