Un mari [presque] fidèle !

Although boasting a strong cast,this film just fails to attain the anticipated level of entertainment. The movie has an interesting premise,with Rex Harrison as a bigamist,several times over,who has forgotten about his Marital escapades due to his waking up in a Welsh hotel suffering from amnesia. Unfortunately,the film does not quite achieve it's billing as a Comedy,as very few humourous moments are to be seen! However,the acting is solid throughout,with Rex Harrison ideal as the caddish Husband, and there is strong support from Kay Kendall,as his latest Wife...Perhaps? French favourite Nicole Maurey is in spirited form as the Italian "Spitfire",and the always watchable Margaret Leighton is fine as his Barrister. Of interest in the supporting cast,as the Italian "Mama",is Marie Burke,who,in 1928, sang the Helen Morgan role of Julie LaVerne in the original London stage production of "Showboat",and did a fine job! The storyline of "The Constant Husband" would have us believe that all seven of the (known) Wives ,plus a surprise new addition,could be waiting earnestly for such a scandalous cad after he has faced up to the obvious consequences of his previous actions! Unlikely,to say the least. In conclusion,Sidney Gilliat's direction is more than adequate,but as Co-Screenplay Writer a livelier input was required.

Rex Harrisons house is in The Bishops Avenue and owned by a friend of my late father.This is an amiable comedy which has its best moments earlier on.By the time it gets to the trial it has run out of wit and invention.Launder and Gilliat would make far better films with lesser casts.They,the Boultings and Ealing all made some fine comedies in the fifties

It is hard to believe that there was a time when some of the last century's greatest artists were considered mere entertainers: Hitchcock made thrillers, Sirk made weepies, Hawks made comedies. Of course, we now know that these auteurs worked in genres that many other directors worked in, but transcended them by subversion, critique, extension, parody, genius.

There aren't so many English genres - the documentary-style war film is probably the most persistent - but in the 1950s, there were a spate of comedies that ran the gamut from glossily glamorous (GENEVIEVE etc.) to the cheerfully cheap (all those precursors to the CARRY ONs, like TWO WAY STRETCH and TOO MANY CROOKS), all of which invariably starred a small pool of exceptional players, including Alistair Sim, Terry-Thomas, Kenneth More, George Cole, John le Mesurier, Michael Hordern, etc.

Like most generic products, these films were modest, content to entertain in an unsurprising fashion, which they did. But, as with every genre, there is always a superior artist who expands its limits. Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat may not, as a directorial team, reach the dizzy heights of the Archers, but, since writing THE LADY VANISHES for Hitch in 1938, they produced a steady stream of highly literate and cinematically inventive comedies, which, while smuggling in complex and disturbing ideas, never failed the first duty of comedy, which is to be funny.

THE CONSTANT HUSBAND may not be a masterpiece, but it is extraordinarily daring. A lot of critics like to talk about disjunction and alienation implied in films, disturbances in character, crisis in identity, but it's rare to find a supposedly frothy comedy which has this as its overt subject matter. A man (Rex Harrison) wakes up dazed in a strange country with a strange language, no idea who he is, or how he got there.

With the help of a professor of psychiatry, Llewellyn (THE LADYKILLERS' Cecil Parker), he pieces together his life, and discovers that they are indeed pieces, that he is a cad, a gold-digger and a bigamist, who hit on women with the prospect of wealth, and dumped them when it fell through. He is rather appalled by his past, and is brought to court for bigamy. Yet such is his charm that all his normally intelligent wives pay for his defence, and declare they would gladly take him back.

From the opening sequence, you know you are watching something special, as Gilliat presents us with a series of fragments (a lampshade, a view out the window, a wardrobe mirror) as a dazed man comes back to consciousness. We do not see him first, but his reflection, as he looks in the mirror; the sequence is very broken in its editing to suggest the characters alienation from himself. In one hilarious sequence, he ponders the various possibilities of who he is - judge, priest, sportsman etc. - which are visualised in the mirror.

And this is what the film essentially is, a detective story, as a man searches for himself, his true identity. As such, it can be counted as an early anti-detective film, three years before VERTIGO. Unlike a normal detective, objectively analysing a crime, Harrison is personally involved; like Oedipus, the first detective, he is the answer to the question. But it is not a reassuring answer - the further Harrison searches the truth, the more diffuse that answer is - he is not one person, he is a series of endlessly proliferating identities, an abstraction made concrete in the number of wives he collects. And while this might seem to minimise women, it obliterates him until he becomes nothing. This leads to genuine, if comic, bewilderment in the court, as legal questions of identity and responsibility take on an ontological aspect.

This is a man who has so effaced himself that he can no longer live in the world, and sees prison as a refuge. I think it was Andre Breton who once suggested that Surrealism never took off in England because its desperate normality is already so surreal, and it is amazing how many predictions of the late Bunuel can be found here, as in so many English comedies of the period.

The great thing, though, is how accessible all this is: the comedy is expert and witty; the identity mystery compelling; the ending up in mysterious Wales mind-boggling. The faded 50s colour is beautiful, doubly so when you think of the monochrome uniformity of the war films that dominated the period; and the old hands in the cast are a joy, as is sexy Rexy, who cannot help (unconsciously?) repeating his past mistakes, adding another ironical layer to the film.

Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat enjoyed a fruitful partnership starting in 1929. One of their most interesting ventures was 'The Rake's Progress'. That film featured Rex Harrison playing an unmitigated cad. Ten years later we have another Launder/Gilliat production again featuring sexy Rexy as yes, an unmitigated cad! The two films are of course as different and chalk and cheese and the later film has not dated nearly as well as the earlier. Harrison is immaculate and never misses a beat. Not for nothing was he considered by Noel Coward to be the second greatest light comedian, the greatest being Himself naturally.

He is complemented here by a lovely cast notably Cecil Parker, the ill-fated Kay Kendall whose 'chemistry' with future husband Harrison is palpable and the superlative Margaret Leighton. Gilliat's script is excellent although let down by the ludicrous trial scene.

'A testament to the unutterable folly of Womankind'. These words are uttered by the female lawyer who defends Harrison's character on a charge of bigamy. Upon his release from prison he finds this same lawyer plus all of his wives awaiting him with eager anticipation. This spectacle is one that will surely cause assorted feminists to boil over with rage and indignation, assuming of course they have endured it this far.

A period piece to be sure but beautifully performed by all and hopefully can be enjoyed for that alone.

This is certainly a film to savor for marvelous performances and the style of an almost fine film maker as he slowly peels back the layers of the onion skin of a story with the audience struggling right along with the lead (the always charming Rex Harrison) to find out who and what he is after he comes to in a seaside Welsh hotel with no memory of either.

Unfortunately, the original ad campaign seriously undercut the chief interest in the film as a light hearted mystery, trying to lure audiences with a presumably "racy" tag line about the "Intimate revelations" of Rex's character who "went one better than Henry VIII" (all told in "Blushing Technicolor")! Tack that onto a plot which, once the past nature of Rex's character was revealed, had no where to go even with a courtroom full of women still anxious to throw themselves at him, and you can readily understand THE CONSTANT HUSBAND going straight to TV in the U.S. - the first relatively major film to do so - not getting a theatrical release for two years.

You certainly cannot blame the sterling cast for the film's ultimate letdown - any film with BOTH Margaret Leighton and Kay Kendall (the soon-to-be Mrs. Rex and reputedly the love of his many partnered life off-screen) AND droll performances from Cecil Parker, Robert Coote, Michael Hordern, Valerie French and a generous bevy of other beauties is going to hold the viewer's delighted interest right up to the end. If the film HAD an end or any idea how to end, I suspect it would be a perennial which we would play constantly on both sides of the Atlantic like so many of the sublime Ealing comedies, rather than only now (in 2010) enjoying a British DVD release with no likelihood of being offered in the Colonies.

Instead, THE CONSTANT HUSBAND (a/k/a MARRIAGE ALA MODE - no relation to the brilliantly satirical Hogarth painting) just peters out - leaving a hint in the resemblance of the leading ladies what a better director (than Sidney Gilliat) might have done with the property had he chosen to have ALL the women in Rex's life played by the same actress (either Kendall or Leighton would have been marvelous) the way Alec Guinness famously played all the doomed members of the D'Ascoyne family six years earlier in the dazzling KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS. Just that little touch of style might have made all the difference. It might have even made the lame final fade out make some sense...the 84 minutes which preceded it were such fun.