Canto d'amore

Considering this screenplay was for a major film studio and geared for the general public, rather than professional musicians or scholars, the five writers who contributed to the script did a decent job.

Centered in the enactment is that of Clara Wieck, played fervently by Katherine Hepburn, who enjoyed a full life of commitment to her composer husband Robert Schumann, large family and artistic ideals.

Clara's strength held the household together, which included border composer Johannes Brahms, played earnestly by Robert Walker.

Paul Henried has the difficult assignment of portraying Robert, a musical genius suffering from depression. Whereas today medication easily placates these symptoms, in the 19th century, people just had to suffer from the ailment, which affected all those around. Henried manages the role with sensitivity.

Clara was known to eschew technical "brilliance" that was the earmark of Franz Liszt, and in one telling scene she conveys her embodiment of "loving simplicity" over Lisztian "show." It's a provoking moment that conjures relevance today, where "young piano whiz kids" often may play up a storm technically, while seldom penetrating the spiritual heart of the score.

Clara apparently was one of the strongest women of the 19th century, in a male-dominated society, successfully surmounting a father's legal challenge of her marriage, the deaths of a number of her children, and a husband who constantly needed attention--all the while composing, arranging, and giving concerts.

In a touching scene Walker's Jonannes admits to his love for Hepburn's Clara. It's not a far-fetched scene, according to musicologists, though there's hardly concrete proof for substantiation.

The film is rich in the works of Brahms, Schumann and Liszt, and Hepburn and Henry Danielle (as Liszt) do commendable physical renderings of mock piano playing to sublime recordings of Artur Rubenstein. Clarence Brown directs with his usual sure hand.

With the word "song" appearing in the title, this must be another Hollywood biopic about a famous composer: in fact, we get no fewer than 3 here (Robert Schumann, Johannes Brahms and, once again, Franz Liszt), as well as an accomplished female pianist (Clara Wieck, later Schumann)! Being an MGM production and starring Katharine Hepburn to boot, I was prepared for the worst – but I have to admit that I was pleasantly surprised by the result; mind you, I love Hepburn's classic comedies with Cary Grant and Spencer Tracy – yet, given her predilection for theatricality, I tend to approach her dramatic work with less enthusiasm!

The acting is fine all around, but I feel that the honors in this case should go to the consistently underrated Paul Henreid: he tackles the most difficult role as Schumann – whose lack of personal success, and being essentially forced to live in the shadow of his wife and depending financially on her own career, gives him severe bouts of melancholia (brought about by the persistent hearing of one particular dissonant note) which even lead to an attempted suicide and ultimately land the composer in a mental institution (though history tells us this isolation was self-imposed)! At this time, Hollywood was not yet rooted in the concept of rewarding actors playing these type of challenging parts (especially when they are based on real figures), so Henreid's performance – indeed, the whole film – was ignored by Academy voters: another category where it ought to have been a sure-fire consideration was the black-and-white cinematography (back then, color films were separately judged) in view of the exquisite lighting, courtesy of Harry Stradling, throughout.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand: the picture opens on a concert given by Clara where she is constantly being corrected by her stern father (Leo G. Carroll) sitting right behind her! She rebels, however, when – instead of the usual encore – she opts to play a piece by a new composer, Schumann, with Caroll forced to swallow his pride since it particularly pleases the royalty in attendance! After the performance, though, he and Henreid (whom the older man had taken in as a student) exchange harsh words (since the latter apparently intends marrying his mentor's daughter) and, when Schumann leaves, Clara goes with him! Cut to 10 years and 7(!) children later, Brahms (Robert Walker) arrives on the scene – pretty much a younger version of Schumann himself, and who is platonically doted on by both husband and wife. That said, it turns out that he harbors feelings for Clara, and which emerge the more Schumann retreats into himself on account of his condition (reaching its zenith during his conducting of the self-penned opera "Faust" in concert form). For the record, Liszt (Henry Daniell) had been instrumental in securing its production, in an effort to help the Schumanns' impecunious situation (the husband had already been humiliated by seeing Hepburn forced to resume performing after several years but, while the result proves a resounding success so that her agent hopes for a run of such concerts, she is adamant that it be for a one-time engagement only, just so the family can rise above water financially!).

Still, unable to hold himself back any longer, Brahms decides to leave the Schumanns' residence. Following Robert's death, his own career flourishes but, learning of Clara's secluded life, he visits her and, naturally, hopes to fill in the blank of both husband and father (he had been especially close with one of their girls, which the young man had even seen through a case of measles), yet the now-ageing lady tells him that she is still Mrs. Schumann, at which he gracefully retreats…but not before telling her that, if her love for her husband is still so passionate, she should do her utmost to bring his music to the world! The film, then, ends with Clara (towards the end of her own life) sitting down at the piano before vast audiences once again and opting to play the very composition that had received the approval of the present King (who was no more than a boy back when we first heard it!) against her father's better judgment.

SONG OF LOVE has all the ingredients for a sophisticated entertainment – comedy (especially involving the antics of the Schumanns' cantankerous old nanny), drama, romance, child interest and, of course, classical music (that said, even if this is copious throughout and involves all four musically-inclined protagonists, it is hardly memorable in comparison to the recently-viewed A SONG TO REMEMBER {1945}, about Frederic Chopin, and SONG WITHOUT END: THE STORY OF FRANZ LISZT {1960}) – and it is all tastefully handled by veteran Brown, enough to make it palatable for most of its somewhat overgenerous 118 minutes. Although the movie has now been officially released on DVD-R via the "Warner Archives" collection, the copy I acquired is plagued by intermittent wobbliness in the picture (despite being sourced from a TCM transmission).

SONG OF LOVE is a tastefully romanticized biography of the Schumanns (Clara and Robert), as portrayed by KATHARINE HEPBURN and PAUL HENRIED, in a glossy tribute to their classical music. Their life changes when they take in a boarder/student by the name of Brahms, ROBERT WALKER, who immediately falls in love with Clara.

While she makes a successful career as a pianist, her husband is less successful in pursuing his serious work as a composer. The story chronicles the highs and lows of their marriage as they struggle to raise seven or eight children while juggling their professional lives. Whether the romantic angle with Brahms falling deeply in love with Clara is accurate or not, I don't know. I'll have to read more about them to get the full picture, but it makes for an interesting romantic drama with lots of classical music, courtesy of Rubenstein at the piano.

An unusual film for Katharine Hepburn, who does beautifully at the keyboard looking as though she's really playing the instrument, as well as Henry Daniell as Franz Liszt who is quite adept at the fingering.

Good performances throughout, but I suspect that it's a film for classical music lovers only.

And Johannes Brahms. The music performances are completely devoid of the usual dumbing-down that was par for Hollywood in this era. Artur Rubinstein provides exquisite versions of the piano pieces, and the orchestral performances are authentic and done beautifully. The story is a sensitive abridgement/invention of the biographies of these three musical greats. The actors are uniformly superb with Henreid and Walker at the top of their game and Hepburn perfectly cast and giving it all she's got. I expected cornball trash. Instead this is one of the best music bios Hollywood ever produced. Clearly the producer/director Clarence Brown appreciated this music and brought together artists who could do it justice. Bravo!

This was produced as a sincere attempt to tell the story of the relationship between composer Robert Schumann, his wife Clara, and an up-and-coming youngster, Johannes Brahms.

The story is largely a fictionalized version of the true tale. According to their letters, Clara's feelings for the young Brahms were more of a motherly than a romantic nature. Brahms did indeed feel a great deal for Clara, but he knew the parameters of their relationship and accepted them. The portrayal of Robert in this film is the worst written and least accurate, probably accounting for Henreid's pallid performance. Brahms was only one of the young male talents that Robert befriended and aided, while Clara looked the other way. We now know too that Robert's illness and cause of death was most likely the ravages of syphilis. The picture skirts the issue and never really makes clear what is wrong with him.

The portrayal of the resourceful and strong-willed Clara is more accurate, and Hepburn is a good casting choice, though on the surface an unlikely one, and the best part of the picture is the portrayal of the boisterous Schumann household, which she essentially heads, leaving her husband free to pursue his own interests and talents. And after Robert's death, the real Clara did indeed devote her life to preserving his legacy.

This film is not a bad one, though the reverential way these three people are treated, and the stilted dialogue written for them, gets in the way. Walker looks so much like the portraits of the young Brahms, especially Brahms in his thirties, that it's uncanny.

The choice of Artur Rubenstein to play all of the solo piano pieces on the soundtrack is a puzzling one, as he makes little attempt to differentiate between the styles of playing of the different characters. And Rubenstein was never a particularly strong player of Brahms and Schumann. His playing of Liszt is much better.