The Woman in White

Notice how fluidly the one-and-only Sydney Greenstreet moves his prodigious bulk across drawing-room floors, like a greedy shark among stumbling minnows. No movie with him can be ignored, especially one that showcases his heavyweight talent. Here, as Count Frasco, he schemes ruthlessly to cheat hapless Eleanor Parker (in a dual role) out of her family fortune. And he does it with such style and civilized malevolence. Without him, the film would amount to little more than a well-mounted and occasionally engaging Gothic mystery. With him, it appears better than it is.

Except for a few grotesque close-ups of Greenstreet, director Godfrey films the scenes in straightforward fashion, as though they come straight from the pages of the Collins book. Thanks, however, to Warner's art department and set designer, the visuals come across as generally atmospheric and evocative of the period. Nonetheless, someone should have told composer Max Steiner that not every scene needs scoring, especially when the notes sound as if they thunder from the bottom of a well. Then too, the script should have made better use of the great Agnes Moorehead (just count her lines), one of the few actresses with enough gravitas to go toe-to-toe with the formidable Greenstreet. You just know at first glance, she's no one to mess with.

Somehow, I kept wishing Val Lewton ("Cat People", "Seventh Victim") had gotten hold of the material first. This movie could have used his eye for combining the literary with the uncanny, which would go beyond atmosphere to cast a much-needed hypnotic spell, particularly in Anne's outdoor scenes (the actual woman in white). As things stand, the movie's an okay entertainment, with a chance to view some of Warner's leading contract players, circa 1948.

Gothic, eerie, studio vision of what a Wilkie Collins novel should and would look like, The Woman in White manages to successfully transcend the written page and give the viewer a good, old-fashioned mystery with some excellent performances and some crafty direction. Though the trimming/cutting/changing of the novel is awkward at times(sometimes even downright blunt), the script does manage to convey the basic premise of the story about a mysterious woman shrouded at night who asks a walking stranger for the time and then tells him that she is being hounded by forces she cannot explain. The walking stranger, an artist on his way to a new job, is then introduced to a household of unique personalities and a woman who could be the exact double of the woman he met on the road. This is a Victorian mystery all the way and the script is heavily aided by the skill of Godfrey the director. Swirling fogs, moonlit nights, and the ever-engaging, ever-looming, ever-massive presence of one Sydney Greenstreet make it more than what is could and would have been without them. Greenstreet gives a wonderfully droll, pernicious, charming portrayal of Alessandro Fosco, the primary villain in the piece. His Fosco is witty and yet can make a wicked look faster than any actor I have seen. Greenstreet and his agile bulk glide in oily joy from one scene of menace to another. Watching him smugly and contemptuously speak condescendingly to each and every character was great fun. Greenstreet is ably aided by some other equally memorable turns: Agnes Moorehead in a brief role as his wife, beautiful Alexis Smith as Marian, Eleanor Parker in dual roles, John Emery as a British blighter in the Terry-Thomas tradition, and John Abbott creating a minor comedic gem as Frederick Fairlie with all his "problems." Gig Young is the male lead and even though he probably is miscast he does do a decent enough job and does not detract in any way. The Woman in White is not a great film but a very good film with some wonderful atmosphere, skilled direction, and the indomitable Sydney Greenstreet. Should you, could you, would you need more than that? In the words of Greenstreet himself, "Ha, ha, Hmm - I should think not. Most definitely not. Ha. Hmm."

One of the quintessential novels of the Victorian era, 'The Woman in White' features sensational aspects that were common to books originally published in weekly installments - in this case, false identities, secrets, crime, and adultery. It also includes the belief in mesmerism, with the evil Count Fosco exerting mind control over many characters, as well as the practice of committing those who were troublesome to one's plans - usually women - to asylums, both of which were real trends in the 19th century. It was highly popular in its day, with a readership approaching 100,000 copies a week.

Unfortunately, the movie adaptation from 1948 is a mixed bag. It stumbles early with the initial meeting of the 'woman in white' by a man on a road at night. Wilkie Collins' friend Charles Dickens considered it to be one of the most dramatic descriptions in literature, but in the film, there is no ethereal shock, and it comes across as a pretty simple meeting. The film captures the dress and language reasonably well though, and there are a couple of excellent performances - Sydney Greenstreet as the mastermind Count Fosco, and John Abbott as Frederick Fairlie, lord of the estate, who is demented, highly eccentric, and fragile. Some of his lines early on to his beleaguered servant Louis are quite funny. I should also say that Eleanor Parker is also fine in her dual role, and Alexis Smith is pretty good as her cousin too - so there are no issues with the cast.

There are two main problems as I see it, and the first is with the story itself, which asks the viewer to swallow a somewhat convoluted plot with some pretty big coincidences. What worked in installment form, or even in the published novel in 1860, is hard to translate successfully to film. The second issue is in cinematography, and overall tone. While it has a few nice moments, it's just not striking or tense enough, starting with that scene on the road at night, and continuing on through the movie. The result is that you've got a story teetering on the edge of being creaky, filmed in a way that pushes it over that edge. Watch it for the performances, or if you're a fan of the novel and want to see an old film version, maybe to compare it to the 2018 BBC mini-series version.

I'll sheepishly admit to having seen NO version of the apparently VERY popular Willkie novel until seeing the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical adaptation on Broadway recently. Came out of the Marquis Theater with a passion to see ALL prior adaptations, and this delectable one is my first. LOVED it! Without doing any "spoilers," let me advise others like me who are seeking this out in the wake of the musical that the musical cut one MAJOR character, that being the Countess Fosco (played here with breathtaking abandon by the fabulous Agnes Moorehead), and despite several story alterations to the musical that I appreciate (it's a bit more emotionally gripping), the Countess might have helped improve the musical. But mostly I'm coming here to make a statement of appreciation for the great Sydney Greenstreet, whose Count Fosco is simply as masterful a portrait of evil as I've ever seen, and a career peak for one of the cinema's greatest character actors. Only problem with the film, whose cast is wonderful in its entirety, is that at its finale, it just sorta trickles away into a forced and artificial-feeling happy ending that I just KNOW couldn't have been in the novel. Otherwise, a swift and engrossing 109 minutes.

Gig Young and his magnificent sideburns are hired as Eleanor Parker's drawing instructor. Walking to the big house in the dark, he encounters Miss Parker all dressed in white, but it's not the Miss Parker he will be tutoring. Once at the house, he meets the various occupants: the glittering-eyed, hypnotic, Italian Sidney Greenstreet and his wife, the silent Agnes Moorhead; the hypochondriac John Abbott (he makes John Ruskin look macho!); Miss Parker, as the center of this tsimmis; Alexis Smith, as a beautiful plot device; and Curt Bois, Abbott's portfolio stand.

Wilkie Collins is interesting in literature because he took the model of the detective story that Poe had invented and turned it into a genre. This was not one of those, but a melodramatic story of beautiful women being menaced, and people explaining the major plot points in poorly written monologues to Miss Smith. Peter Godfrey was never one of Warner's stronger directors. What chance would he have against Greenstreet anyway? Instead, he seems to have turned the entire shoot over to DP Carl Guthrie. Every shot looks like an illustration tipped into those cheap sets of 200 Great Novels By People You Never Heard Of that could be found in every suburban home of pretension half a century ago: bound in fake leather, from slightly worn steel plates. You could write your name on the bookplate that was glued to the insider of the cover, announcing "This book is from the Library of" and then a large space, so that everyone would know this copy of ESTHER WATERS was yours, and not your brother's. If anyone wanted to know about Victorian baby farming, you were the man.

Apparently the Warner Brothers felt about this movie the way I do about that last paragraph (and ESTHER WATERS), because it sat on the shelf for a couple of years. Mind you, it's fun in a "what were they thinking?" way, and Guthrie's camerawork is amazing. Pause the film at any moment, and you get a fine image, just right for a steel-plate illustration.