Holy Matrimony

"Holy Matrimony" existed for me only as legend for the longest time. My father's friend Bill Gitt (renowned projectionist and elder brother of film preservationist Bob) was a great fan of this and often spoke of it, though I can't recall ever seeing it as a young lad. But I searched long and hard and finally tracked down a DVD of it (not a bad print at all), and it is truly enchanting. Marvelous, marvelous performance by Monty Woolley, in a very understated mood -- those who know him only from "The Man Who Came to Dinner" will, I think, be quite pleasantly surprised by his work here and, from Gracie Fields, a miraculous one. The first time I watched it I thought, well, she doesn't do much. But then I wanted to see it again almost immediately. And it's true, she doesn't do much, but the little things she does are simply exquisite. A great, really subtle performance, not at all played for laughs, but funny all the same. Her delivery of the simple line, "That's it," is a lesson in charming simplicity. John M. Stahl, that strange, almost mythical director, has a marvelous effect on actors (see, for example, Adolphe Menjou in "Letter of Introduction," where he really plays sincerity... well, sincerely): without fancy photography, he seems able to give them an almost mystical radiance. And he has an amazing cast of character actors to work with here: Eric Blore, Una O'Connor, Alan Mowbray, George Zucco, Laird Cregar, Melville Cooper, Ethel Griffies. A superb Nunnally Johnson script (his best?) and an excellent score (Cyril Mockridge) -- typical of Fox films of the 40s and early 50s. A film worth seeking out, one you will want to watch time and again.

This is a virtually flawless little gem. Quiet, perfectly paced.

Actors who do only caricature in most movies - Franklin Pangborn - show that they can actually act here. Eric Blore gets a death scene. Imagine that! Everything just moves on, with a warm charm that never descends into the sentimental, much less the saccharine. The timing is perfect.

It's not witty. It's not particularly clever, though it is certainly humorous at times. You like the main characters, though they certainly have their faults.

I'm starting to repeat myself here to fill enough lines, and I don't want to blather on. But if you get a chance, watch this movie. It's just very well done.

Monty Wooley is British artist Priam Farll in "Holy Matrimony" from 1943.

Farll is a reclusive painter living in a remote area with his manservant, Henry Leek (Franklin Pangborn). The two return to London when Farll is told he is going to receive a knighthood.

Leek, however, becomes ill with pneumonia and dies. When the physician mistakes him for Farll, Farll goes along with it and takes on Leek's identity. This way, he can avoid the knighthood ceremony, which he dreads.

Then Farll receives a letter from one Alice Chalice (Gracie Fields), a widow who has been in correspondence with Leek through a marriage bureau and is expecting to meet him. A complication.

That's a tame complication compared to what's coming. Leek, apparently, was already married (to Una O'Connor) and has two grown sons. She sues for bigamy.

Farll and Chalice marry, and he continues to paint, but that causes problems too. His paintings are being sold as originals, but he was supposedly dead when they were painted.

Amusing film with wonderful performances and a good story. Wooley is great as a stubborn man who is determined to protect his privacy and hold onto the life he has.

Gracie Fields gives a very straightforward, honest performance as the strong Alice. And Franklin Pangborn is his usual delightful self, though we see way too little of him.

Monty Woolley plays Britain's most distinguished artist who lives the life of a recluse in the jungle with his valet. When the valet dies, Woolley assumes his identity to continue a life of peace and becomes wedded to Gracie Fields. All is bliss.....for a while.

Utterly charming and devilishly witty. Woolley is terrific as Field's adoring husband but has a razor sharp tongue for everyone else. The couple go very well together and their relationship comes across as very sweet and totally believable. The strength here though is the script which is full of caustic one liners and enjoyable characters for Woolley to let rip at.

When talking about the great writers of Great Britain from 1880 - 1940, one thinks of Wilde, Shaw, Wells, James, Conrad, Hardy, Kipling, Stevenson - maybe Conan Doyle, Beerbohm, Chesterton. There is one name that was once fully worthy of being listed in this group, but this person has sort of vanished (except for one novel) from public attention. The writer was Arnold Bennett. In his day novels like CLAYHANGER, RICEYMAN STEPS, THE CARD, and BURIED ALIVE were known around the English-speaking world. Bennett was the chronicler of the "Five Town" area of London, where his main fiction characters (usually lower or blue-collar types) came from - for Bennett came from that area originally. In the film THE CARD (with Alec Guinness and Glynnis John) there is a statement at the start that mentions the Five-Towns.

But after Bennett died in 1931, his readership disappeared. The sole exception was THE OLD WIVES TALE, a grown-up view of the unsuccessful married lives of two sisters. The others were basically forgotten.

Aside from Guinness's THE CARD, the only other Bennett novel to reach the screen was BURIED ALIVE, made twice into sound films (in 1933 with Roland Young and Lillian Gish, and in this 1943 film, HOLY MATRIMONY). It is a wonderful comedy, and gave Monty Wooley another specialized film to give his patented irascibility full flower. Here he plays Priam Farli, the leading English painter of his day, who returns from the South Seas to be knighted, only to find that his dead valet (Eric Blore) is mistakenly identified as him. The valet is buried in Westminster Abbey (with King Edward VII in attendance) while Wooley watches from the public benchs. Wooley sets up a house, under his valet's name, and hires Gracie Fields as his housekeeper. Eventually they fall in love and marry. But money is running out, and Fields (noting her husband's artistic abilities) sells several to a dealer (Laird Cregar). Cregar recognizes them as Farli's pictures and sells them very quickly. But one of the buyers finds that the picture she bought was of an incident that happened after Farli died. Cregar is sued, and confronts Wooley. Eventually it boils down to a second legal problem: that Wooley finds his valet was married before, and never got a divorce. Confronted with bigamy charges (the first wife, Una O'Connor, can't recognize Wooley is her husband or not), Wooley is finally confronted with the only way of identifying himself as Farli or the Valet - by physical means that he opposes revealing.

All the performances are wonderful, led by Wooley and Fields (who would do a second film, MOLLY AND ME, in a year). Cregar's Clive Oxford again showed he could play comedy (possibly even more subtlety than we think - Hector Arce's biography of Tyrone Power mentions that Power noticed that his friend Cregar coughed in a suggestive manner as though to suggest that Oxford was a homosexual who disapproved of his secretary's preening herself). Even George Zucco, normally a master of film menace, here managed to portray a prosecuting barrister doing slow burn after slow burn when dealing with the irrascible Wooley in court. Altogether a grand show. And a good place to go in order to get reacquainted with a forgotten literary master.