Disperato d'amore

Ida Lupino was nearing the end of her Warner Bros. career when she did 'Deep Valley' with Dane Clark, Wayne Morris, Fay Bainter and Henry Hull. Sensitively directed by Jean Negulesco (who did 'Johnny Belinda'), she is a repressed farm girl with a speech impediment who befriends an escaped convict (Dane Clark). She blossoms as romance slowly develops, his love helping her to emerge from her shell, away from her bickering, embittered parents (Hull and Bainter).

A forgotten film, it derives much of its power from Ida Lupino's intense, believable performance in a strongly sympathetic role as the girl who is cured of her affliction by the love of a convict. It has the same kind brooding atmosphere that director Jean Negulesco would bring to 'Johnny Belinda' the following year. Variety called it "a first-class melodrama marked by distinctive performances". Jack Warner was so impressed, he wanted Lupino to extend her contract but she refused, tired of being treated as a second-class Bette Davis. She turned her back on the studio, intent on finding artistic freedom elsewhere.

Unfortunately, the film itself has become one of those "lost between the cracks" kind of things instead of being released to video. It was a bit too bleak and perhaps too downbeat to achieve any sort of popularity at the box-office and it's really too slim a story to sustain a one hour and forty-four minute running time. However, Ida's luminous performance makes it worth catching. Wayne Morris is wasted in a supporting role but Dane Clark does well with the male lead.

A down-trodden girl, a mutt dog, and a criminal fugitive on the run. Sounds a lot like 1941's High Sierra, even down to lead actress Ida Lupino. But it doesn't matter that these elements got recycled, because Deep Valley is a really watchable 90 minutes of Hollywood melodrama. Sure, it's hokey at times, especially the weepy ending that's squeezed for all its worth. But the movie is also a testimonial to the demandingly high standards of Hollywood studio production-- scope out the great farm house that almost looks like Katrina hit it, and the road project that looks so real, I expect it was. There's also the exquisite b&w photography from cameraman Ted Mc Cord, along with expert direction from studio ace Jean Negulesco. But most of all, it's the absolutely luminous performance from Lupino in the central role. Was there anyone ever better at playing soulful parts. Here, her stuttering, long-suffering farm girl whose only joy is her dog and the great outdoors, is enough to move the Rock of Gibraltar, and is surely Oscar-worthy. Speaking of the outdoors, it's also a measure of the film's underlying romanticism that the lovers seek refuge in the liberating openness of nature, and away from the blessings of civilization. For each has been brutalized by societal forces larger than themselves. Dane Clark is very good too, even if he never got past second fiddle to John Garfield-- then too, his strictly blue-collar personality was a poor fit for the upwardly mobile 1950's, and by that white-collar decade, he was gone. Anyhow, this super-slick film again demonstrates how wonderfully vital B-pictures of the studio era could be, and is well worth a look see.

Ida Lupino (Libby) plays the socially isolated daughter of Henry Hull (Cliff) and Fay Bainter (Ellie). They live in the middle of the nowhere and Lupino is the glue that keeps the family together as her parents don't speak to each other and live on separate floors. She acts as a go-between. One day, after wandering through the woods, which is her only enjoyment in life, she stumbles across some convicts who are building a road. One of them, Dane Clark (Barry) takes her fancy. Can these two misfits get together? Wayne Morris (Jeff) also takes a shine to Lupino and her father wants to encourage this relationship. Lupino has other ideas.

The cast are good with the central performance of Lupino leading things along as she develops a relationship with Clark and we see her change into a happy girl. However, this is ultimately an unhappy story that you will probably be able to predict. It does provide tense moments, though. Personally, it was too obvious for me and I would have preferred a different ending. It's still worth keeping onto.

A touching story of people finding (or re-discovering) within themselves a capacity for love: low-keyed, underplayed, and presenting an extraordinary challenge to Ida Lupino as a young woman totally lacking in confidence or a sense of self-worth, an emotionally stunted creature whose needs and aspirations are internalized, until.....

Her marvelous performance must rely on nuance to acquaint us with what is going on within the character: a lowering of the eyes, a tilt of the head, an ungainly walk without swinging her arms, a halting, inarticulate stammer, and more - much more - the types of things that define excellence in acting, absent of any opportunity to chew the scenery.

Long acknowledged as a first-rate talent who never received her due (and whose career was never properly promoted), Ida Lupino demonstrates in this film just how much she was capable of achieving, if given the opportunity.

I caught this on Turner Classic Movies, during a showcase of movies that are not yet available on video. And what a shame, because this is a remarkably vivid, extremely well produced effort, featuring a typically marvelous performance from the so called "poor man's Bette Davis" Ida Lupino - her last as a Warner Brothers star. As well as an intense, believable turn from one of the WB's preferred non-glamour, refreshingly regular Joe's, Dane Clark.

She plays a stuttering, socially backward young woman living in a dark household where her petty, nagging father (Henry Hull) gloomily inhabits the first floor and her helpless, self-pitying mother (Fay Bainter) occupies the second one. Her only function, beyond tedious daily chores, is to be the convenient target of her parents' scorn and disappointment, the scorn and disappointment they actually intend for each other but are too weary to express - as they literally haven't spoken for years. Not helping matters is the fact that there are no other neighbors for miles, as the three of them are fenced in, both physically and now emotionally by the surrounding hills.

Lupino's only refuge is the woods, where she often blissfully roams for hours with her dog. During one of her excursions she stumbles across a work crew of convicts on a construction project, supervised by an agreeable WW2 veteran played by Wayne Morris. She is instantly captivated by one of the men (Clark, who is friendly towards her dog) despite the fact that the undoubtedly more respectable Morris soon drops by the house to get water for the crew and is clearly taken with her. But she prefers the dangerous Clark (from afar - they've only made eye contact) and is concerned that he has been placed in isolation as a result of a violent, if provoked, rage.

Soon, a terrible storm hits. Clark escapes his confinement in the mayhem, as does Lupino, deciding she can no longer withstand the unrelenting hopelessness her parents are inflicting on her. She and Clark run into each other in the woods and ... well, they fall in love.

I'd hate to give any more away but, as with all good movies, there are surprises in store and events to unfold. The characterizations are three dimensional, lived in, particularly those of Bainter and Hull as Lupino's folks. It would've been all too easy for them to have come across as simply nasty and grotesque, but they both do a wonderful job of shading their performances so that you can sense the buried humanity, the regret, the slender possibility of some kind of redemption. There's a tantalizing hint of mystery in Morris' nice guy supervisor as well. It's a relatively small role, but he seems TOO nice, TOO forgiving of and understanding of Lupino's stuttering and social backwardness. Though it's understandably left largely unexplored, you find yourself wondering about the guy's true intentions.

Wonderful film. There's a good amount of suspense too in the second half, as the authorities keep closing in and things get very tense. A colorful, cagey sheriff who appears to enjoy his work a bit too much comes out of nowhere and almost steals the show.

The director, Jean Negulesco, has put together a beautiful film. It's worth seeing for the stunning cinematography alone. Couple that with flawless performances across the board and an insightful, nuanced script ... "Deep Valley" has the richness and texture of an old hardback novel you pick off the shelves of a good used bookstore and can't put down. How do movies like this get so lost when mediocrities abound? (Didn't mean to rhyme.)