Le buisson ardent

"The Bramble Bush", a melodramatic adaptation of Charles Mergendahl's equally melodramatic novel, begins with a classy credits sequence highlighted by Leonard Rosenman's sexy-menacing score--and then the troubles begin. We get a pretty aerial view of the New England town the story takes place in, but the minute Richard Burton steps off the bus (telling the driver, "Check my bag, I'll pick it up later"), we can see it's the same Warner Bros. backlot from a hundred other movies. Burton visits his parents' graves in the tiny cemetery, with headstones so chintzy I half-expected them to bend in the breeze. Burton plays a "big city doctor," begrudgingly returning to his hometown where his doctor-father was so beloved they named the hospital after him! Burton's presence opens old wounds, has female hearts fluttering, and gets him in hot water with the father of his childhood friend, slowly dying and wanting to be put out of his misery. The phony sets and backdrops aside, the main problem with "The Bramble Bush" is Burton; enunciating as if this were a Shakespearean tragedy, the miscast star is painfully earnest, robotic and virtually expressionless throughout. The other cast members don't fare much better, although Angie Dickinson has a moment or two as a smitten nurse who begs Burton to love her. Director Daniel Petrie's rhythm is thrown off by the editing, which leaves scenes either chopped short or overextended (exposing the actors in the process, Burton in particular). The film is simply Warners' attempt to cash-in on the "Peyton Place" trend: plush potboilers featuring well-heeled mannequins suffering in their estates. But the public knew a stinker when it saw one, and "The Bramble Bush" was a justifiable failure. *1/2 from ****

This movie was released in 1960, over 60 years ago. It would be unfair to judge it by today's mores and knowledge, soon please keep that in mind.

This is a very good psychological drama in which the characters struggle with all sorts of complex emotions - grief, guilt, love, frustration, feelings of failure, helplessness and more.

Perhaps this movie hits home with me because my husband suffered from the same disease as the character - Hodgkin's Lymphoma - during the early 1980's. When this film was made, the disease was nearly uniformly fatal. Thankfully, my husband was cured of the disease, and since the 1980's more strides have been made in the treatment of Hodgkin's Lymphoma.

If you are a viewer who likes psychological dramas, you will probably like this movie. If not, please pass instead of downgrading it, because for what kind of movie it is and for the time it was made, it is very good.

This is a very interesting case charting the tricky runway through thorny bushes and shallow seas of the problems of euthanasia, and no one knows how it will end. It could end up a regular tragedy, and there could also be a happy ending. There is neither, because this is strictly a medical case, and Richard Burton plays a very regular and conventional doctor who tries to keep strictly to his own business, and even his senior advises him to avoid grounding on sentimental and relational shores in the difficult navigation. His friend Larry is mortally ill and expressly calls for his old childhood friend (Burton) to take charge of his case, while his father reacts strongly and even violently against it. Larry's wife is Barbara Bush, who had a happy marriage in the beginning until he became ill, and she never got the child she so strongly wanted. Larry wants Richard Burton to take care of her after he is gone, and they actually love each other. So what is the problem? Larry pleads to Richard to take his life, and Richard can't stand seeing his friend suffer. It all ends up in a trial with some surprising turns, and the end is very unexpected. Burton acts his part with great restraint, a very unusual part in his career, but he is still young here. The others second him well, but best of all is the terrific music by. Leonard Rosenman, which adds an extra dimension to the story, raising it to a very different and higher level than Peyton Palace - only the settings are almost identical. There are many other threads as well to this small town scandal story, but the main issue is the very debatable complex of mercy killing. How much can a dying patient endure of his pains, and how much can his kin and doctors endure seeing him suffer? Lots have happened since 1960, and today the problems about this are practically solved, but the issue remains eternally bothersome.

I was 15 years old in 1960 when this flick was released (or escaped). I attended it on a blind date set up by my girlfriend, Carla. My date was a serious and proper young man who wore a suit and tie. Known for my teenage highjinks, I had assured my girlfriend that I would behave like a proper young lady. The complex tear jerking plot and multiple characters seemed to enchant the audience at the theatre on Hollywood Blvd. but kept me on the verge of laughter which I desperately attempted to stifle as the film went on...and on...and on. People were clutching handkerchiefs and sniffing back tears during the final courtroom scene when, at the sudden appearance of yet one more anguished character and one more unlikely plot twist, I gave in to a fit of teenage giggles. The scolding from my girlfriend, my date and offended members of the audience only increased my laughing fit which took on a life of its own, eventuating my removal by ushers who had to lift me out of my seat by the armpits and drag me screaming with laughter down the aisle into the lobby. Later, when I explained to my father why my girlfriend was no longer speaking to me and my date had ended early, he asked, "What was the movie?" He was a screenwriter and interested in such things. When I told him, he said, in a hushed, awed tone, "No wonder you laughed. That was the worst picture ever made." Instead of lecturing me about my improper social conduct, he commended me for having good taste in films.

No, not Elizabeth Taylor but a veteran actress just as beautiful and talented, maybe more so, a tall, trim brunette with deep-set brown eyes, lovely skin, and a great smile. She's the best thing in this post "Peyton Place" (1957) soap opera, very expressive as a dying man's wife who falls in love with his doctor (Burton). The picture features Angie Dickinson as a nurse who passively adores Burton, but she's already involved with a corrupt lawyer (Jack Carson). A murder results in a courtroom trial at the end. The drama tends to jump around a lot, but is bolstered by exceptional jazz and traditional musical score by Leonard Rosenman, and attractive imitation New England locations, in color.