Night Unto Night

I was a young teenager when this film came out. I couldn't recognize a set from the real outdoors and, of course, knew nothing about plot and character development, pacing, conflict resolution, etc. But now, viewing it with a more critical eye I can see its weaknesses. Still I need to make one comment. In the film there is a romantic interlude that takes place at night on the beach. It culminates in a long, lingering kiss. For some reason the technicians, especially the lighting technicians, took a great deal of time setting up the scene. The amount of time and effort even became part of what little lore remains about the picture. Well, to a young, impressionable lad, that was my first sense of the warmth of romance in films. Before this, my only interest were comedies and adventures. Now I sensed their potential for romance--and I liked it.

In the wake of WW II, when so many lost so much, a story about the nature of death that offered hope for a spirit world, must have seemed appealing. In this, Don Siegel's second feature, a good cast giving strong performances, keeps interest alive. The moody atmospherics work very well, but there is some confusion in the script between the supernatural and epilepsy, which keeps this picture out of the "Rebecca," "Wuthering Heights" or "Pandora and the Flying Dutchman" territory.

Stunning photography and Don Siegel's direction make the most of an unusual overly melodramatic story starring Ronald Reagan as a scientist with epilepsy who goes to south Florida on doctor's orders and meets a young woman, (Viveca Lindfors) recently widowed, who is haunted by the voice of her dead husband. Reagan rents her slightly dilapidated beach mansion and experiences several epileptic episodes, but tries his best to keep his condition a secret. Broderick Crawford's role as an artist who lives close by verges on annoying as he goes on and on about art and life. Ossa Massen gives the film a boost as Lindfor's scheming, jealous sister who tries seducing Reagan and later drunkenly blurts out his secret when she realizes that she can't have him. The concluding hurricane arrives just in time, with all the main characters assembled for dinner in the creaky old mansion, and Reagan pushed to verge of suicide by the shame of his medical condition, while Lindfors begs him to reconsider.

Let's just get the best part of Night Unto Night out in the open: Ronald Reagan looks great in a uniform. He's very handsome, and when he smiles the entire screen lights up, but the movie isn't very good. He plays an epileptic recluse looking for peace and quiet, but when he rents a beach house from Viveca Lindfors, he doesn't find either. Viveca has mental problems and is grieving over her late husband, and her emotional outbursts are cries for attention. She and Ronnie share a romance, but it's difficult because of their own issues, and also because of her flirtatious, manipulative sister.

If you're a particularly big fan of Broderick Crawford, you might want to check this one out. He plays against type, an artistic intellectual who lends a sympathetic and wise ear to Ronnie's plight. I was watching it for the eye candy, and while I wasn't at all disappointed, I'm objective enough to realize any other Ronald Reagan movie could have done the trick. On paper, the plot is very interesting, as it discusses philosophy, mental illness, suicide, and the afterlife. However, Viveca was pretty irritating, as were the supporting characters, save Broderick. If the entire movie was just Ronnie and Brody talking, it would have been very good.

A curious, brooding drama with metaphysical airs, Night Unto Night holds interest by its very oddity (and to some extent as an early directorial effort by Don Siegel). It's set in pre-boom, primitive Florida near the Everglades and takes its redemptive close during a purging hurricane, along the way touching on transcendent themes - though it seems to confuse spirituality with spiritualism. These are its dramatis personae:

. Ronald Reagan plays a biochemist (!) come to coastal Florida seeking a simple, reclusive life; he's been diagnosed with epilepsy and, man of science or not, he views his condition as a mysterious and terrible curse. So he rents a gloomy old pile of a house from a young widow where he sets up a laboratory to fiddle with his molds and spores. He's a disturbed, perhaps suicidal man, but, Kings Row notwithstanding, Reagan is an actor who leaves the impression of never having been troubled a day in his life.

. Viveca Lindfors is the widow, who must vacate the house because in it she keeps hearing the voice of her dead husband, whose boat was torpedoed just offshore. Lindfors was imported to Hollywood in an attempt to recreate the mystique of Ingrid Bergman, whom she resembled in voice and visage, but the imposture never quite worked. Still, she's as good here as she ever was and gives a glimpse into the thinking that brought her from Sweden.

. Broderick Crawford is a friend and neighbor. In a drastic stretch, he plays a painter who earns his living doing commercial art but saves his talent for vast murals in what looks like the Socialist-realism school. Nonetheless, he serves as the spokesman for faith, which he carries like a chip on his shoulder, waylaying the scientists and psychiatrists he meets with harangues about their puny rationalism.

. Osa Mussen, though a Dane not a Swede, plays Lindfors' twisted sister, a spiteful hedonist who throws herself at Reagan and does not suffer rebuff kindly. She drinks too much and ignites the volatile gases of the plot's alchemy.

The story, from a novel by Philip Wylie (whose 15 minutes of notoriety would come in the mid-1950s with his book Generation of Vipers), has a reach which far exceeds its grasp. While it does hold interest - thanks chiefly to Siegel's shifting but steady pace - it raises questions which it does not bother to (or cannot) resolve. Too many of its strands (the spirit of the dead man, the murderous enmity between the sisters, Crawford's ill-packed intellectual baggage) start to flap in the winds of the concluding hurricane and fly off, never to be seen again. At the end, all that we're left with of the ineffable is plain old guy-meets-gal chemistry.