Sangue Cigano

A mysterious & headstrong gypsy girl falls in love with THE LITTLE MINISTER called to pastor in a small Scots village. Soon her influence has him behaving in a most unclerical manner, with repercussions for the entire community.

Although sadly neglected & overlooked, this fine, sentimental film, based on a 1891 novel by Sir James M. Barrie, features excellent performances and superior production values. RKO lavished care & money to get the details just right; it is a fine example of how Hollywood films of the period could evocatively portray other times, other places.

Katharine Hepburn has one of her most fetching roles in the exuberant Babbie. Full of boundless energy & good humor, yet fiercely protective of those weaker & less fortunate than she, Hepburn turns in a beguiling, always entertaining, performance. While there is really no mystery as to the true identity of her character, this in no way hinders Hepburn from continually delighting her expectant audience.

In the title role, John Beal (born James Alexander Bliedung in 1909) had doubtless the best role of his career in this, his second, film. By underplaying his scenes, he holds his own with the vivacious Hepburn. Exhibiting real star quality, it is unfortunate that the good movie roles failed to materialize. Beal did quite a bit of work through the years on the stage and had a triumph in television's THE ADAMS CHRONICLES in 1976. John Beal died in 1997 at the age of 87.

A very fine supporting cast lends depth to the smaller roles: Andy Clyde as the lonely village policeman; Donald Crisp as the local doctor; Reginald Denny as a pompous army captain; Mary Gordon as an elderly indigent; Alan Hale as the community's repentant drunk; Lumsden Hare as a strict & powerful church deacon; Eily Malyon as a member of the aristocracy; Beryl Mercer as Beal's devout mother; and Dorothy Stickney as a fluttery maid.

Mention should be made of Max Steiner's lovely score, which incorporates old & familiar tunes.

A couple of historical notes: the Auld Licht (Scottish for 'Old Light') is mentioned many times in the film. This was the very conservative Church of Scotland, or Presbyterian Church in America, which had the allegiance of a majority of the Scots people. Barrie's original novel was of the Kailyard (Scottish for a small cabbage patch near a cottage) School of writing which had great favor in Scotland in the late 19th Century. This style featured highly idealized & sentimental representations of Scottish village life. Thrums in THE LITTLE MINISTER would certainly be a prime example.

It's 1840 Thrums, Scotland. Gavin Dishart arrives with his mother to be the new Minister in the rural town. The town is impressed with his righteous talk. Babbie (Katharine Hepburn) is a cunning irreverent gypsy and there is a town ban on the gypsies. She pranks them by inciting a revolt against imaginary troops and then the real soldiers arrive. At every turn, Babbie is able to trick Gavin until finally, he is able to proclaim his love for the gypsy.

It's silly that Hepburn is playing a gypsy and she is dressed like the most stereotypical gypsy. It is saved by her shear playfulness and the eventual explanation of the truth. Initially, she's the cat and Gavin is little more than her play thing. That's kinda fun. She broadly play acts and he falls for it every time. It turns into a romantic melodrama and she makes it work.

I really enjoyed this sentimental antique. Hepburn and Beal are terrific. Movie music fans should not miss this early Max Steiner score. I had never heard of it. It's one of his earliest through-composed soundtracks. I loved the meticulous scoring and varied arrangements of the folklike love theme, which is fully stated in the opening credits (a one minute burst of romantic fervor) and is then interpolated and altered throughout the film, first returning when Hepburn says "I do believe you've liked me all the time" to which Beal replies with the question that sums up the film's theme "Can a man like a woman against his will?". There's a great sequence where Hepburn shines a lantern through the minister's living room window. Listen to how Steiner punctuates the flashes of light. As with all good symphonic scores the love theme returns finally to tie everything together, but not before we've heard it played on everything from solo violin to bagpipes.

I have watched this movie twice in the last year, after the BBC unearthed it from some long forgotten vault. There's no question that it seems an oddity, archaic in style, tone and subject matter. But if the viewer can overcome these barriers, and in my case the poor sound quality of the version the BBC showed, it's an involving tale with engaging central performances from the principles (and pretty reasonable Scottish accents too) and fine support from stalwarts such as Alan Hale and Donald Crisp who became well known faces over the next 40 years. What also interests, is that the period the movie was made is now over 3/4 of a century ago, and we see the earlier period of the story (1840's) through the prism of the sensibilities of that era (1930's) a similar distance from our own times. The view of the relationships, between men and women, between people of faith and the church, between individuals and the community identity they are a part of, at first they seemed to be so alien, and then I saw that these are still areas of tension in society, perhaps for ever, and in seeing that, I felt lucky to get a glimpse into history, to two pasts as it were. This is something the 20th century and the invention of cinema are giving us for the first time in human history.

Its tender sentimentality is out of fashion today, of course, and has been for decades. But that's the point -- and that, for me, is the beauty of this film: it's positively luminous with an innocence and understated nobility that put our postmodern "edginess" to shame. I have to wonder if we've lost the capacity to experience and appreciate such rarefied sweetness of feeling. A sadly neglected film, with one of Katharine Hepburn's incomparable early performances -- radiant, charmingly quirky, and more emotionally expressive than a dozen Garbos. Sad, too, that co-star Robert Beal never crashed into the upper ranks of stardom; I saw tremendous potential in that performance.