La Madonna delle 7 lune

Reportedly one of the most successful films of its year in Britain, this 1945 Gainsborough production obviously provided high escapism for its war-time audience.

The plot revolves around Phyllis Calvert's Maddalena who we first see as a young convent-girl chased and we are left to assume attacked and raped by her pursuer. Brought up to adulthood in the convent in a very opulent-looking between-the-wars Italy, without any consultation she is unwillingly married off by her absent father to a wealthy Italian gentleman who provides her with doting attention, a lavish lifestyle and then a free-spirited daughter. Despite this "arranged marriage" she, her husband and daughter all seem genuinely happy, so why does she go missing for months at a time before returning to the fold with apparently no recollection of where she's just been?

The answer we're given is that her trauma has forced her to create for herself a second personality as Rosanna, a confident, sexy, gypsy girl who has beguiled the leader of a band of brigands, a dusky, tousle-haired Stewart Granger. However, every time she encounters a stressful situation in either persona, she reverts to the other with no memory of her previous actions. It's her daughter, Patricia Roc who decides to solve the mystery of her mother's disappearances with her only clue being a brooch bearing a design of the Madonna of the Seven Moons which leads her to the the shady part of town where Granger and his gang coincidentally are planning a robbery at Maddalena's own house the night of a grand ball there and so the scene is set for the Maddalena / Rosanna secret to finally be revealed as the movie hurtles towards its tragic conclusion.

It's a strange movie. For the first half-hour everything's very hoity-toity and upper-class and you're wondering where the dreary story is going and then it's as if someone's thrown a box of fireworks at a funeral as the story gues berserk through to the end.

The legend at the beginning defiantly and proudly asserts that Maddalena's story is based on real-life cases, which of course we know nowadays to be true, but there's no explanation given as to why she goes from docile society hostess to the wanton partner of a scurrilous bandit. I'd certainly have preferred if the story hadn't felt the need to fly up into the stratosphere of heightened melodrama where it ended up.

Its difficult to rate the performances of the actors. Calvert is certainly better playing the lady than the tramp and Granger, who hated the picture apparently, struts his dusky stuff all over the place.

I didn't hate the movie myself and it was competently directed by first-timer Arthur Crabtree but really it teetered and fell over on its own pretentions almost the second the plot twist of Maddalana's identities was revealed.

This is arguably one of Gainsborough's best films ever, and as important in its own way, as "Brief Encounter." Gainsborough is sometimes criticized as a purveyor of "high toned" tosh for shop girls, yet no one did what they excelled in as well.

And "Madonna of the Seven Moons" excels in all departments. If some of its scenes and dialogue seem to beg a Carol Burnett parody, the film nonetheless grabs you from the first moment and doesn't let go till "The End."

Just try looking away!

The story: A convent bred schoolgirl is molested by a peasant, leading to dramatic repercussions in her later married life that impact both her husband and daughter.

And what a slick, juicy cinematic feast it is--with all the trimmings: psychiatry, nervous breakdowns, rebellious teen-age daughters, rhumba bands, dens of iniquity, fashion shows, Stewart Granger in gypsy pancake, male suiters and gigolos seemingly recruited from a "Brideshead Revisited" casting call, and all set against lavish settings from England to Italy (the art direction is A-1).

With such breadth of scope, mood, and tone, one would not be remotely surprised to see both Todd Slaughter and Olivier show up in the same scene, even though they don't.

The religious beginning and closing, with a genuinely touching depiction of Extreme Unction are deeply affecting.

It's also nice to see British stage great Reginald Tate in a rare screen performance.

Sin, redeem and save never had it so good! Highly recommended.

Phyllis Calvert speaks obliquely with Mother Superior Helen Haye about something terrible. We then jump forward in time to a scene in which she and super-wealthy husband John Stuart are awaiting the return of their daughter, Patricia Roc. Things go along swimmingly for a while. Miss Roc wears shorts hangs out with the arty set, and the staid Miss Calvert attempts to bond with her. Then, after about 40 minutes of this, we hear a theremin. Miss Calvert puts a handkerchief over her head and goes to the slums, where she reunites with lover Stewart Granger, with apparently never a memory of her other life. Stuart confesses to Miss Roc that mummy has disappeared before. Miss Roc goes looking for Miss Calvert.

It took me several minutes to realize that this was all set in Florence, such was the posh manner in which everyone spoke and dressed. It's only when a character showed up wearing a biretta that I twigged; such are the conventions of the era that no one seemed to notice that Miss Calvert was only four months older than Miss Roc. Neither is whatever trauma led Miss Calvert to this odd double life ever explained, even though the opening titles insist that there was a real person who went through this.

That said, Arthur Crabtree's first movie as director is typically lush Gainsborough piffle of the era, with the ex-cinematographer supervising Jack Cox's camerawork through several sumptuous sequences. The cast is strong, as it needed to be to put over this nonsense, including Peter Glenville, Dulcie Gray, and Jean Kent.

While the holes in the story -- mandated, no doubt, by the censors --annoy me, there's no doubt that this is fine commercial film-making. Still, it's not a movie I'll be revisiting.

The ego to the id of 'Brief Encounter', this rollicking nonsense described by the Robsons as "typical Italian schizophrenic rubbish" made the hearts of British women race when it originally hit cinemas eighty years today during the final winter of the war.

They thrilled to the exploits of respectable middle class housewife Phyllis Calvert and her wanton alter ego as a curly haired hussy regularly bursting into song and flashing her heels in a succession of low dives to the accompaniment of a gypsy guitar; although it later prompted Stewart Granger to lament "Oh dear, I should never have signed that contract" as in the words of the late David Shipman the film "gets dafter and dafter".

Wonderful!!

I enjoyed this movies more than some of the stuff turning up on our screens today. While some of the acting wasn't brilliant the story line was excellent and the characters were interesting, if not over the top sometimes.

Phyllis Calvert played the the lead very well. Extremely well spoken, something you don't find in movies of late.

Worth a look...