Johnny Belinda, l'enfant du silence

That Jane Wyman, then in private life Mrs. Ronald Reagan, was able to find the strength to film this masterpiece of her career so soon after the birth and death of her baby daughter in 1947 is a glimpse to us of her utter sheer determination and complete professionalism. Miss Wyman uses milestones of her own life in her acting; she becomes the character and thus we catch emeralds and wheats, the good and the bad, the happy and the sad. It makes for a performance the audience never forgets and the film remains fresh after having had seen it several times. The supporting cast is pure gold. I understand that Jack Warner buried the film for nearly a year after completion and only got on the band wagon after Wyman made him take out an apology in the trades which lead to the big Oscar buildup which snagged Jane Wyman her best actress oscar for 1948. Sadly her greatest professional triumph marked also the death of her marriage to husband Ronald Reagan.

Am 79 years old. Saw it at age 23. Saw it again on TV tonight.It is still a stunning film, the black and white cinematography could not be achieved by many of today's a.s.c. people. Anybody can shoot color.

She was poignant in every scene. The northern California coast doubles nicely for Nova Scotia from whence my maternal ancestors emigrated.

I have difficult time seeing Lew Ayers not in a German soldiers uniform but he was wonderful in this as he was in "All Quiet..." Bickford is always Bickford but in this he is truly in character. And who can deny Moorehead? Direction is flawless as is the casting. The score is gripping.

"Johnny Belinda" is a triumphant story on several levels. The first is obvious - a beautiful but edgy story for 1948 about a deaf mute (Jane Wyman), the ignorance of many around her, and the discrimination against her when she has a child out of wedlock. The child is the result of rape, but no one knows that.

The second is the incredible acting by the entire cast: Jane Wyman (who at 31 looks like a teenager), Lew Ayres, Charles Bickford, Agnes Moorhead, Steven McNally and Jan Sterling. They are each in their own way very powerful.

The third is the fantastic direction by Jean Negulesco, who really seemed to have his heart and soul into this.

The fourth is the vindication of Lew Ayres, whose career was over when he became a conscientious objector in World War II. He was MGM's Dr. Kildare but the series quickly became Dr. Gillespie. People understood conscientious objectors better in the Vietnam era; during World War II, it wasn't understood. Ayres did serve as a medic in World War II. When he came back, Warner Brothers cast him in this, and he won an Oscar.

The story of a lonely young woman living on a farm in the desolate Cape Breton and the doctor who takes an interest in her, teaching her sign language, is a beautiful one. The screenplay by Irma Von Cube and Allen Vincent is stunning. This film swept the 1948 Oscars, and with good reason. Highly recommended.

On the surface, this highly regarded movie, (12 Oscar nominations, though only one win for Wyman), might seem to be little more than a lurid melodrama, but scratch beneath and you'll actually find a scathing scrutiny of life in a small, cloistered community and early markers for societal issues such as single-parenthood, bullying, discrimination against the disabled, victim shaming and rape. Markers mind you, not out and out campaigns for social improvement, at least not overtly, but one would like to think that this serious content opened the eyes and ears of at least some of its widespread audience back in 1948, when it was a big commercial success.

Set in a small community in turn of the 20th century Nova Scotia, whose connection to my homeland might explain some of the very approximate attempts at a Scottish accent by the likes of Charles Bickford and Agnes Moorehead, the plot revolves around Jane Wyman's deaf-mute young woman, Belinda who is demeaningly christened "Dummy" by everyone, including her doughty widowed father and crusty old spinster aunt Bickford and Moorehead with whom she shares farm accommodation. Not that they give her preferential treatment, quite the reverse as, being younger than they, she's given the lion's share of the heavy lifting jobs going.

Things change when a smooth but conscientious doctor, Lew Ayres comes to town and reaches out to Belinda, learning her sign language and lip-reading to encourage her to reach out from behind her invisible walls and connect with society. Unfortunately, society at large connects with her in the loathsome person of the local big-shot, Locky, played by Stephen McNallly, who ruthlessly rapes the defenceless girl and in so doing, impregnates her. So traumatised is she by her experience that she mentally blocks out recollection of the incident, no one is brought to justice for the crime and indeed she's the one who's shamed by the self-styled "principled" citizens of the town, including a sanctimonious shop-keeper and a terrible trio of old, gossiping women who more belong around a witches cauldron. Rumours even circulate that Ayres might be the father, but while he does out of pity offer to marry the girl after she has her child to reduce her local infamy and she clearly loves him, it's in a way he can't reciprocate.

The rapist however can't let alone and decides he wants the child for himself, figuring he can trick his newly-wed wife into getting Belinda to sign adoption papers over young Johnny in their favour. When Belinda's dad gets wind of what he did to his daughter, he confronts Locky, who he's never liked, resulting in a cliff-top fight from which only one walks away. Still Locky persists in his aim, climaxing in a second confrontation with Belinda and her child at the farmhouse which ends with a gunshot.

Well directed by Jean Negalescu in the appropriate noir fashion, (filtered light, dark closeups, darker secrets abounding) and well acted by Wyman, Ayres, Bickford and even, och aye, Moorehead, this is satisfying period noir which probably broke down some barriers both in Hollywood and beyond back in its day.

To me the Academy Awards are much more a matter of industry politics than real artistic achievement. Here, however, that's definitely not the case. Wyman's deaf mute is one of the more moving portrayals that I've seen in some 60-years of movie watching. She manages to express more with her eyes alone than most actresses do with their entire emoting. Thanks to Wyman, it's a rare glimpse into a delicate soul, though I do hope she wasn't being paid by line of dialog.

In fact, the entire cast is outstanding, though visually McNally and Sterling approach caricature in his dark looks and her blonde cheapness. Of course, the topics of rape and a wedlock baby were pretty explosive stuff for the Production Code of the time, but the writers handle the material deftly. At the same time, the murder of MacDonald (Bickford) is often overlooked in terms of the Code. After all, the murder goes unrecognized in the courtroom accounting and in that sense goes unpunished even in an expanded moral sense.

Something should also be said about director Negulesco's compelling visual compositions. Happily, so many of the interior frames are arranged richly in detail, while the moody landscapes reflect a perceptive artistic eye. All in all, we get both an atmospheric fishing village and a series of eye-catching visuals both of which expertly complement the storyline.

No need to echo more aspects of this much-discussed film, except to say that Hollywood managed here to overcome one of the industry's biggest pitfalls—a kind of soap opera that's truly touching without being sappy. Thank you, Warner Bros.!