O Segredo do Pântano

I'm not really familiar with Renoir's movies: I watched "The Woman on the Beach" a number of years ago and enjoyed it for Robert Ryan's performance, and its unusual plot and characters (especially Charles Bickford as the blind artist.) Unlike others, my appreciation of "Swamp Water" was not affected by its comparison to other films by the great French director. I came across "Swamp Water" online and, not knowing anything about it, initially thought it was either a horror movie or one of those cornpone looks at the "poor ole souls" of the deep South. The film's credits lifted my spirits, and assured me that I was in for a surprise. And I was. I love this movie: the cinematography, the subtle characterizations, the dialogue (especially Brennan's cosmic musings.) Dana Andrews (never my favorite actor, always to me a poor man's Robert Ryan) is superb, Walter Brennan, as usual, transcendent, the women complex and not condescended to, and the array of familiar character actors round out the cast with their usual more than competent contributions. Swamp Water has a psychological and emotional complexity unusual for such a simply plotted film, and its haunting evocation of the mysterious region in which it is set assures it will remain one of my favorites.

Having seen almost all Renoir's works, I was eager to see this one, the master's first film of his american stint. If you have seen Renoir's The River (1951), one of his loveliest masterpieces, the feeling cames to you, when you are watching this 1941 movie, that you are seeing just a preparatory exercise for that later piece of art. Just listen Walter Brennan's lines when he first meet Dana Andrews about how the death of an individual begets new life elsewhere.

Sometimes also in the movie I had the resemblance of watching a John Ford movie, specially in the town scenes, more obvious in the ball scenes, the guy with the girl chatting, the dancers background, and suddenly a huge thug coming out, and the fight therefore. More hints about this: the writer is Dudley Nichols, a Ford habitual collaborator, and among the cast, John Carradine and Ward Bond, also from Ford's troup. Anyway, it's a Renoir. Watch it (it's short and pleasant, and hide two or three great moments.)

When Ben (Dana Andrews) heads into the dangerous Okefenokee Swamp to search for his missing hunting dog, he finds fugitive Tom Keefer (Walter Brennan) living like a wild man. After a rough beginning, Ben and Tom grow to trust each other, and Tom reveals that he was falsely convicted of murder, which is why he's hiding out. Ben promises to look in on Tom's daughter Julie (Anne Baxter), which leads to romance, but when townsfolk begin to suspect that Ben's frequent trips into the swamp may be connected to Keefer, everyone is put in jeopardy.

This was one of the few American films that French master Renoir worked on, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. He and producer Darryl F. Zanuck fought over everything, particularly location shooting, which Renoir preferred, versus studio shooting, which the cost-conscious Zanuck wanted. Most of the film ended up being shot in the studio, but some location shots were done in the real Okefenokee by dialogue director Irving Pichel. The movie is okay as far as films about "backwoods simple folk" subgenre movies go.

The cast is good, especially Brennan, but Walter Huston is wasted as Andrews' disapproving father. Anne Baxter replaced the fired Linda Darnell, and while I normally prefer Darnell, I don't think she would have been right for this part. Baxter has a certain feral look to her eyes that fit the wild-child role, even if her perfectly drawn eye brows don't. As for director Renoir, he accused Zanuck of butchering the film in the editing process, and canceled his Fox contract as soon as he was able.

If one didn't know beforehand who directed this film (which proved to be Renoir's U.S. debut), he would be excused for thinking it was made by John Ford - given the presence of a good number of his stock company of actors (Walter Brennan, John Carradine, Ward Bond, Russell Simpson) and the music score utilizing themes from THE GRAPES OF WRATH (1940), which was also a 20th Century-Fox production! Still, Renoir's uniquely humanist outlook is unmistakable - which is only betrayed by the one-dimensional Tweedle-Dee/Tweedle-Dum pairing of Bond (here practically duplicating his villainous role in Ford's YOUNG MR. LINCOLN [1939]) and Guinn Williams.

An altogether impressive production, with the overpowering atmosphere of the Okefenokee beautifully captured by Renoir and veteran cinematographer Peverell Marley (despite some obvious back-projection); the use of shadowy lighting is especially striking. Its concern with realism also extends to some rather physical violence for the time and a couple of unnerving scenes involving prowling alligators and snakes! Consequently, the film is vastly underrated in the director's canon (especially having now watched all his American features). While it may have served as a sort of dry run for Renoir's own THE SOUTHERNER (1945), the film also looks forward to INTRUDER IN THE DUST (1949) - which, similarly, dealt with a miscarriage of justice.

With regards to casting, I don't agree with Leonard Maltin who felt that Walter Brennan's fugitive constituted "bizarre miscasting" (certainly no more than his uncharacteristic if brilliant turn as Old Man Clanton in Ford's MY DARLING CLEMENTINE [1946]): despite receiving top billing, he appears very little but his presence permeates the entire film. Walter Huston is never less than good in anything he does, but his gruff patriarch here isn't all that central to the plot; interestingly, the actor later appeared in a film by another expatriate French director - Rene' Clair's AND THEN THERE WERE NONE (1945). Conversely, Dana Andrews makes quite an impression as his rebellious but subsequently heroic young son - and this film must surely have put him on his way to becoming a veritable leading-man. The film also has Andrews forsaking egotistical village belle Virginia Gilmore for the raggedy but radiant Anne Baxter (whose real identity has been shielded from most of the community). To spite Andrews, the former takes up with another man: the actor's face was familiar to me but I couldn't quite place it, that is, until I saw his name during the end credits - it was none other than Matt Willis, who would go on to play Bela Lugosi's werewolf acolyte in THE RETURN OF THE VAMPIRE (1944)! Similarly, Huston's young bride (played by Mary Howard) is pursued by an atypically meek, almost pitiful Carradine - though it later transpires that he was involved in Brennan's framing!

Surely one of the film's most endearing aspects is the unconditional love shown by both Andrews and Brennan to the former's wayward dog, hence the name of Trouble (which even occupies the film's very last shot via a well-deserved close-up!). As for the attractively-packaged DVD itself, the overall quality of the film's transfer was acceptable (though print damage was evident on occasion); I don't usually buy bare-bones discs, but the very reasonable price-tag and the fact that this rarely-screened film is as yet unavailable on R1 made the purchase virtually a no-brainer - and it has certainly made me game to pick up some more exclusive R2 stuff, above all the SE of Lewis Milestone's war drama THE PURPLE HEART (1944), also featuring Dana Andrews and a film I missed out on during my tenure in Hollywood...

If one had missed the opening credits, he would be forgiven for thinking that 'Swamp Water (1941)' was one of John Ford's lesser-known efforts. If the cast of familiar Ford faces – including Walter Brennan, Ward Bond and John Carradine – didn't lead you up the wrong path, then it's the smaller touches that characterise the director's Westerns: a close-knit community, an impassioned brawl, an innocent young lass, a significant father-son relationship. In this case, however, the credit doesn't belong to one of America's greatest filmmakers, but to the French equivalent {though it comes as no surprise that writer Dudley Nichols was a frequent Ford collaborator}. 'Swamp Water' was Jean Renoir's first picture following his migration to Hollywood in the early 1940s. Interestingly, considering the distinctive brand of auterist film-making evident in 'The Rules of the Game (1939)' just two years earlier, there's little here to suggest that Renoir is seated behind the camera. Aside from a waterbound opening shot that calls to mind several scenes from 'A Day in the Country (1936),' this film bears little resemblance to the other seven Renoirs I've seen to date.

When hunter Ben Ragan (Dana Andrews, in an early role) ventures into the feared Okefenokee swamp to retrieve his lost dog, he happens upon the hiding-place of Tom Keefer (Walter Brennan), a convicted murderer who escaped custody and has been living in isolation for several years. Despite having become a rugged and slightly eccentric recluse, Keefer firmly professes his innocence and spares Ben's life, in exchange for keeping silent about his whereabouts. Back in town, and to his sweetheart's (Virginia Gilmore) chagrin, Ben befriends Keefer's daughter Julie (Anne Baxter), a raggedy young beauty who shies away from social interaction like a frightened kitten {fortunately for her career, Baxter would play a substantially more independent character in Wilder's 'Five Graves to Cairo (1943),' and I certainly don't need to mention 'All About Eve (1950)'}. Meanwhile, Ben's father Thursday (Walter Huston) watches out for the cowardly ruffian who has been bothering his younger wife Hannah (Mary Howard) – the perpetrator is, of course, the suitably pathetic John Carradine.

Even if it doesn't attain the dizzying heights of Renoir's other offerings, 'Swamp Water' deserves to be seen for his marvellous and atmospheric cinematography (the stifling swamp photography was captured by Peverell Marley) and strong performances. Andrews perhaps wasn't the most authentic actor of the 1940s, but here he plays the young hero with a tenacity that signalled a successful future in Hollywood. Huston is, of course, terrific, and I've found it interesting that he never seems to play the same character (to such an extent that in 'And Then There Were None (1945)' and 'Dragonwyck (1946)' it took me a while to even recognise him!). But the heart of the film belongs to Brennan, who comes across as sympathetic and likable without even trying, though he brings an added toughness to this role that I liked – by the way, how the heck did they film the snake-bite scene without risking their top-billed star? I don't know if 'Swamp Water' could be confidently recommended to fans of its French director, but John Ford aficionados could certainly do much worse.