J'ai épousé un Français

Rossano Brazzi plays the most arrogant man in the world in Count Your Blessings. He meets Deborah Kerr, and even though she's engaged to a fellow soldier, he actively tries to wear her down and seduce her even when she repeatedly refuses his advances. His excuse? It's wartime, and the other man "left his side unguarded." Removing the ridiculous casting decision to pick an Italian actor as a Frenchman, assuming that American audiences couldn't tell the difference between Rossano's accent and Maurice Chevalier's-who plays his father-accent, the movie is still ridiculous.

It's made extremely obvious from the get-go that the only connection Rossano and Deborah have is in the bedroom, but they get married anyway. They bicker constantly, disagree on major life issues, and suffer from culture shock at each other's attitudes. And to top it all off, before they have the chance to enjoy a honeymoon, Rossano is captured and Deborah is left pregnant and alone. She waits for years-yes, that's right, years-for him to return, and raises a son alone. She's wasted her youth and pines away for a man she only knew for a few days, and when he finally returns, they're faced with the same old problems. He's an unfaithful jerk, there's a culture clash, they don't really like each other, he's not sympathetic towards his son-but the moment they're left alone in the bedroom, all is right with the world. How are we supposed to root for this romance?

Even the title sends the wrong message to the audience! When absolutely everything is wrong with in a relationship, you should "count your blessings" and only focus on the one physical aspect that keeps you together? Well, if you subscribe to that theory, you might actually like this movie. As it is, I'm past my teens, so I have the life experience to know that the main message of the movie is wrong. I hated this movie. If there was even one more connection between the two leads, I'd have given it more leniency, but they were so incredibly ill-suited for one another! I'll leave you with one of Rossano's lines, so you can fully understand his awful character: "You must always smile at women. If they're pretty, it gives you pleasure. If they're not pretty, it gives them pleasure, and you have the satisfaction of having done a good deed."

Sometimes you watch films for others, and this was one of them. I thought it might lighten darker days, but it had the effect of making me very depressed. Not about its content but about why it was made at all. Deborah Kerr in her most true blue way was terrible to watch, filled with empty mannerisms and surrounded by greed and wealth. She could be a good actress and a mediocre one, and this performance was truly bad. She marries a very rich Frenchman played by Rossano Brazzi ( the Italian accent made this nonsense ) and they have a young son who should never have been let out of the playpen!!! He complicates their lives and plays with a small Guillotine ( don't even think about it ) and the one good actor, Patricia Medina is given a rotten role of no consequence. There is also Maurice Chevalier being as always himself, and seemingly incapable of doing anything else as Brazzi's father. Accents clash again, even topping Kerr's excruciating high-pitched and immitating badly the Queen of England's voice. Negulesco directed some stinkers at the end of his career and this is one of them. Snobbish and unendurable this film grinds to a halt in one of the most absurd scenes I have ever seen in what is sometimes laughingly called the cinema. I recommed it to all those who kick expensive furniture ( as Kerr does ) and who say, " I am not French!! I am English, English, English ", and let them endure this travesty of cinematic self-indulgence.

Englishwoman gets swept up by a Frenchman during the war. They marry and he is gone nine years. He comes back, meets his son and they encounter his "distraction" during the interim. Their mores clash; they talkety talk and somehow it all comes right in the end.

Not a bad story. Anything can happen in the movies, right? Not this time. It played out that way, but nothing ever "happened" in this. It needed artificial respiration, but never got it. It just comes off artificial.

There are beautiful locations and sets. You think -- surely with Deborah Kerr. You think -- surely with Rossano Brazzi. There are attractiveness and talent available ... But it never connects in this very lame presentation. Brazzi just plods along with the program. Ms. Kerr tries to infuse enthusiasm several times, but, well, I was embarrassed for her. Chevalier approaches it bravely, just chattering along obliviously.

A reviewer excuses the actors and the director, but states "... many inconsequential, unbelievable, and spiritless emotional reactions, even in potentially dramatic situations. There is absolutely no chemistry between the leads." Actually, those elements are all exactly the province of the actors and director. How does a bad script keep actors from having chemistry between them, or from rendering appropriate portrayals? And, isn't the director supposed to be taking the pulse of things as it goes along? Where was he with the pervading false note in this? Was he hampered by the producer or someone else?

While Ms. Kerr is a gifted, beautiful and enduring actress, she doesn't pull it off every time. She can over-emote and requires some rein on that. Brazzi seems about the same in everything. No doubt, he is a gorgeous specimen, but his abilities are such that he can't carry it on his own. They could have both used some able directorial assistance here.

What happened? What didn't happen? Oh well, heed a warning and spare yourself. If you do, you can count that a blessing.

Grace Allingham (Deborah Kerr) is an English woman struggling on the home front during WWII. French officer Charles Edouard de Valhubert (Rossano Brazzi) has a message for her from her boyfriend Hugh Palgrave. The message is nothing much and the French man is terribly rude and aggressive. It's a short romance and a quickie marriage after only 3 days.

Negging is a way of enticing gorgeous females by praising them with little put-downs. Apparently, it works on some women. It definitely does not work for romantic movies especially rom-coms. I simply don't understand the theory of it as movie writing. It's a horrible meet-cute. There is nothing funny about it although again, it may work on some people. The female in question should be uppity and bringing her down could be funny. That's not the case for Deborah Kerr. None of this is funny. Nor is it romantic. I don't get them as a movie pairing.

I count my blessings that I have learned to stay away from Deborah Kerr movies except out of morbid fascination with what moviegoers could possibly have seen in her.

I count my blessing that the PVR makes it possible to record bad movies, zip through the terrible parts, stop, delete, and then move on to better movies, most not starring Deborah Kerr.

I count my blessings that for all its failings, Hollywood has consistently made far, far better movies than the British.

Oh, the movie: Kerr is a frigid soccer mom, from what I can see. Some Italian guy I've never heard of plays the French husband. They have all the chemistry of oil and vinegar. He goes away. He comes back. They find out they hate each other, or something. I think I fell into an irreversible coma.