I had never heard of this one before, just chose it at random on the Kindle. I am so glad I found it – I could watch it over and over. It's a psychological melodrama, somehow a mix in plot and tone of Humoresque (poor violinist struggles to become a concert performer and find happiness amid lots of classical music) and Jane Eyre (young orphaned girl comes into the employ of a mysterious and gruff older man who controls but ultimately romances her). I didn’t realize until the opening credits that fave James Mason is in it, all young and juicy. It is called The Seventh Veil. The film is British, from 1945, and stars Ann Todd (whom I had never heard of, but who apparently was able to convincingly fake playing the piano in several concert scenes when a stunt double wasn’t at the keys).
Todd plays Francesca, who at the start of the film is hospitalized for an undisclosed malady. She sneaks out of the hospital, slinks through the streets and jumps off the nearest bridge. She is rescued but seems catatonic until she is put under the care of a psychiatrist, played by Czech hottie Herbert Lom (those eyes! that voice!), who uses sodium pentothol and hypnosis to get the whole tale out of her. His theory is that there are seven veils of consciousness, and he must penetrate each one to find out why she tried to kill herself. She regresses to childhood and begins her story:
When 14-year-old Francesca loses her father she is sent to live with a distant rich cousin, played by Mason. He is a bitter, 30something bachelor with a limp and walking stick who treats her gruffly until he discovers that she plays music, and then he treat her only slightly less gruffly. A music scholar himself, Nicholas” pushes her into becoming a concert pianist. He alternately oversees grueling practice sessions and disappears for long stretches, leaving her alone with the servants. We never find out the mysterious reason Nicholas has been emotionally and physically crippled – it is mentioned that his mother ran off with a singer when he was a young boy.
Francesca goes on to a London music college, where she meets a brash American saxophone student and falls in love. Desperate to get away from Nicholas, she informs her guardian that she is engaged to be married. Nicholas is having none of it; he locks her in her room, and the next day drags her off to Paris to continue her musical training. Years pass. She ultimately makes a successful concert debut, but is haunted by memories of being caned on the hands by a teacher, making her fail a music fellowship exam (her hands were too swollen to play properly). She also longs for Peter, the fiancé she was forced to abandon. Still, she is resigned to her existence, every facet of which is controlled by Nicholas (mean and brooding, yes, but damn, Mason is fine!) Back in London, she makes her professional concert debut, but afterward shakes Nicholas and dashes around the city in search of Peter. She finds him leading a swing band at a supper club. When he sees her, he wordlessly sweeps her into his arms for a dance to their favorite song. But it is not to be: Peter married someone else. Francesca remains with Nicholas, who tells her which shows to perform, what to wear, and where to eat for dinner. Nicholas seems to anticipate her every need and want, but while she finds it satisfying she resents it too.
Nicholas engages a famous German painter to create her portrait. Max initially says he no longer does portraits, but Francesca, bored with having only Nicholas to talk to, taunts Max into taking on the job. The two spend hours together and soon the artist is head over heels. Francesca agrees to run away to Italy with Max, but when she coolly informs Nicholas of her plans, he goes ballistic and actually whacks her knuckles with his cane. Injured – and reminded of the awful moments as a child when her hands were caned so badly she couldn’t play -- she runs into Max’s arms, and they drive off toward Italy. But, wouldn’t ya know, the car veers off the road, crashes, and goes up in flames.
Francesca and Max are rescued and taken to the hospital. Francesca is convinced she will never play piano again and tells Max she no longer wants to live. It is later that night when she makes the suicide attempt we see at the top of the film and lands in Dr. Larsen’s care.
Max is no fan of psychotherapy. When one of Dr. Larsen’s attempts fails to snap Francesca out of her malaise, the artist spirits her from the hospital to his palatial home. (I guess there is no such thing as a starving artist in 1940s England.) Dr. Larsen tracks down former fiancé Peter -- now divorced -- to find out more about what happened between them. Next he visits Nicholas to ask for help in curing her – which sends Nicholas into a rage and gives the doc a clue as to the real nature of his feelings for his ward. Nicholas heads straight to Max’s to confront Francesca. He tells her that she can play again, and reminds her that they have a strong bond that they have built up over the years. Max busts in and demands that Nicholas leave, but too late, the Nicholas Svengali Effect is already working its magic.
Francesca agrees to submit to another therapy session. Dr. Larsen plays one of her recordings, compelling her to play along on the piano and see that she can indeed play. Max, Nicholas, and Peter are waiting to see her. When she descends the stairs her face lights up, and she runs into the arms of … Nicholas, who was there for her all along.
NOTES:
I found the story compelling, and the script is great. Ann Todd reminds me of Joan Fontaine: a mix of helplessness and grit. Herbert Lom’s psychiatrist is so good – so commanding, so soothing, so earnest and empathetic – he practically had ME hypnotized through the screen. If I were Francesca, I would have chosen the good doctor.
The American boyfriend Peter also gets a lot of the great lines. Francesca berates him for his rudeness and lack of refinement, saying, “It must be how you were brought up,” and Peter, unfazed, quips, “I was dragged up – I know it!” He also has a sequence where he woos the shy rich girl by telling her what happens between men and women in the movies – very clever.
James Mason is pure ice for most of the movie. He's like Heathcliff plus Mr. Rochester plus Henry Higgins. When Francesca tries to tell Nicholas about her engagement, she is at his feet begging. “Nicholas, I’m engaged!” And he’s like, “Hmmm. Go to bed.” “Did you hear what I said?” “Yes. And pack a bag before bed because we’re going to Paris in the morning.” Of course Francesca has a snit fit and screams “I won’t go, I tell you!” and Nicholas cracks her one in the face. I was shocked, frankly. “How old are you?” Nicholas demands. “Seventeen,” she whimpers. “Exactly,” he says, in Mason’s rich and oily vocal cadence. “You are still my ward. Do you know what that means? It means that until you are 21, you are under my guidance and protection, and you live under my roof. Should you try to run away, I can have you brought back immediately -- by the police if necessary. Do you understand? Now go to bed.” And she does.
She also has Max spouting some flowery sentiments; when he tells her she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever painted, she counters saying that he’s painted the portraits of numerous beauties. “I say this not only because you’re beautiful, but because I love you,” he flutters. When he asks her to run away with him, she falls into his arms and muses, “How do we do this, Max? Should we get married?” Max pulls back, not in alarm, but just says, “I hadn’t thought of that.” “It doesn’t matter,” she says. Remember—this film was made in 1945! The heroine has chosen to go live in sin with her German lover in Italy – but of course, Nicholas puts the kibosh on it.
Finally – the music is incredible. As I mentioned, I chose the flick at random as it was related to some other older films I was looking at. If it had turned out to be corny or horrible, I just would have quit in the middle and watched something else. But The Seventh Veil had me spellbound from the opening credits because of the music – the soundtrack was wonderfully nuanced, carefully orchestrated, and dynamic. No wonder – the London Symphony Orchestra was playing it all, including the concert sequences, which included Chopin, Beethoven, Dvorak. Highly recommended.
No comments:
Post a Comment