B.F.'s Daughter

Barbara Stanwyck plays the title role of B.F.'s Daughter, a very wealthy heiress who marries iconoclastic liberal minded economics professor Van Heflin. B.F. is Charles Coburn and he's one of those people who's two initials everybody knows because he's that wealthy and powerful.

Coburn is a firm believer in Herbert Hoover's rugged individualism and he's inculcated those values in his daughter. Stanwyck falls for a man who is the antithesis of her father's values, but he's barely getting by on his professor's salary. She decides to help by using her piece of her father's fortune to send him on a lecture tour for one of his books. Heflin turns out to be a natural, but he's never to know that his wife bought him a career.

The novel was written by J.P. Marquand who is best known for those Mr. Moto mysteries. It was published at the beginning of World War II and MGM took several years to finally get it to the screen.

Rich heiresses who overpopulated the cinema in the Thirties were a dying breed of movie heroines by the time B.F.'s Daughter came out in 1948. Stanwyck however makes it work and Coburn is in most familiar surroundings as the gruff millionaire.

Van Heflin had teamed well with Stanwyck the year before in The Strange Loves Of Martha Ivers and he does well in somewhat lighter fair by comparison. Margaret Lindsay does well as Stanwyck's best friend who marries yuppie Richard Hart who goes to war. The term yuppie was not in use back then, but that is what Hart is. He proves to have the right stuff when that is questioned by Keenan Wynn.

Wynn plays a part that seems a dress rehearsal for the role of the news commentator in The Great Man. A little less bitter, but just as cynical and he's got an incredible knack for predicting events wrong.

B.F.'s Daughter is a great part for Stanwyck and a great film for her as well.

The original book about a tycoon's daughter marrying a left-wing economist was one of John P. Marquand's less cheerful novels. The plot had the economist taking a high-ranking civilian job in World War II while his one-time "establishment" rival joined the military and was given a dangerous assignment. Some critics attacked the book as a smack at liberals' love of country, while its defenders saw it as an antidote to wartime stories that celebrated the "common man" as the only true patriot. The movie glides over all that serious business, changing the class conflicts from serious issues to mere impediments to true love. While preserving a considerable number of the book's situations and even large chunks of its dialogue, the movie changes everything that's important, turning the couple's serious marital problems into simple misunderstandings. The result is a mostly dull romance, with Heflin and Stanwyck showing little chemistry. It would have been better if the filmmakers had gone further and turned the story into a comedy.

Probably one of the worst scripts ever given to Stanwyck, who shines like only she can despite the severe shortcomings of the dialogue. Maybe she saw something in it that she liked - plays like your average soap opera.

John Marquand didn't deserve to have his novel turned into this film, which was probably a vehicle for its star, Barbara Stanwyck. Mr. Marquand was a writer whose books were popular and some of them endured the passing of time.

It appears that MGM asked screen writer Luther Davis to transform the novel into something that the book was not. Under the direction of Robert Z. Leonard, one gets the impression this was a movie to show us how a woman in love can throw away all the comforts and perks of her wealthy life for a man that could not make a decent living to keep her in style.

It doesn't make sense that Tom sweeps Polly off her feet by their first encounter in that "divine" little bistro in the Village, circa 1940s. Polly in furs and Tom in rags, give me a break! It would be laughable with today's audiences.

Barbara Stanwyck and Van Hefiln, by the magic of the celluloid never age; if anything they get better looking. Ms. Stanwyck was a marvelous actress with the right material, but in here, she is bogged down by a the mediocrity of the writing. Ms. Stanwyck and Mr. Heflin worked together to better results in two other films. This film has to be viewed as curiosity piece that never made it big.

Richard Hart was perfect as the stuffy Bob, the fiancee that is left behind when he can't cut the mustard. Charles Coburn also appeared in other films in which Barbara Stanwych shone, like "Lady Eve", and he is perfect as B.F. Fulton, Polly's father. He always played rich men. Margaret Lindsay has only a small part. Keenan Wynn is perfect as Marty Ainsley, Tom's friend.

On one positive note, the decor of the homes we see in the film is just "divine", to imitate what Apples would say, as are the costumes and the glossy look they gave the film.

Barbara Stanwyck gets to turn the faucets on for three different men as well as model some pricey threads in BF's Daughter. While clearly a star driven vehicle the storyline itself is a paean to American capitalism summed up in the benign performance of Charles Coburn as a fair minded captain of industry and the abrasive wrongheaded muck wracking of an agitator commentator played by Keenan Wynn.

Polly is the spoiled daughter of industrialist BF Fulton. Engaged to be married she has her head turned by a progressive man of the people, Tom Brett ( Van Heflin ) who has little use for the money of men like BF. She marries Brett who rejects her lifestyle even though it is her money that brings him exposure and fame. The two drift, BF gets ill and the ex-paramour flies off on a dangerous mission giving Polly plenty to fret about.

BF suffers from too much comparison to other works involving the cast. Stanwyck's spoiled rich girl doesn't seem to dig as deep as she does in Sorry, Wrong Number. Her father daughter reprise with Coburn worked better when they were on the other side of the law in The Lady Eve. The same can be said with Heflin in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers.

Robert Z. Leonard's direction is sound and cinematographer Joseph Ruttenberg delivers some stunning compositions but the story itself is a soapy melodrama that ultimately turns to sap.