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Quite possibly the only sensible film to watch in this time, since there's enough soap overloaded in this for ten Covid-19 swamped hospitals!
Seriously, Now, Voyager has been on my radar since I was a small kid, even if I had little interest in actually watching it - my mother had only a handful of VHS tapes of her own in our kitchen (ie The Crying Game, Jules & Jim for example) and this was one of them - and I know I had a pretty immature sense about what to watch or not to watch for too many years (as in, "pfft black and white soap opera romance/mother-daughter fluff, who needs that"). Im happy to say that I have a little less idiocy now about me, and have over the years seen many Bette Davis movies, from the notorious (Baby Jane) to lesser known works (Marked Woman).
Coming to this was one of the major works to finally check off my list, if only so I can finally talk about it with my mother... As she did with her own mother, whenever it came on TV one would call the other and they'd light up and watch together even if living apart, but I digress.
Come to think of it, this is one of the heavy-duty mother-child tug of war stories (different POV of Mildred Pierce, less homicidal than Norman Bates, get my drift), and that is really what is at heart here in this story: how to break away from one's upbringing and get out on one's own. That there is romance in this isn't besides the point, far from it, as this is one of the most endearing and lovely and welcoming romantic Hollywood films of the time; it means to have escapism on its mind, as Charlotte goes off on a cruise ship and meets a dashing man with a good accent and keen ability with lighting two cigarettes at once (and the occasional deep thought to ponder over whilst overlooking Buenos Aires from a swanky villa at night, as one does), but it doesn't mean to be that in a shallow way in this part of the story but be about that. And when Charlotte has returned, life... Has to go on, including with her controlling, unflappable, other-words-I-care-not-to-say mother.
Come to think of it, this is one of the heavy-duty mother-child tug of war stories (different POV of Mildred Pierce, less homicidal than Norman Bates, get my drift), and that is really what is at heart here in this story: how to break away from one's upbringing and get out on one's own. That there is romance in this isn't besides the point, far from it, as this is one of the most endearing and lovely and welcoming romantic Hollywood films of the time; it means to have escapism on its mind, as Charlotte goes off on a cruise ship and meets a dashing man with a good accent and keen ability with lighting two cigarettes at once (and the occasional deep thought to ponder over whilst overlooking Buenos Aires from a swanky villa at night, as one does), but it doesn't mean to be that in a shallow way in this part of the story but be about that. And when Charlotte has returned, life... Has to go on, including with her controlling, unflappable, other-words-I-care-not-to-say mother.
What impresses me the most is how the filmmakers show us Charlotte truly growing and changing from the start of the story to the end, and that while it's a character study in some part it doesn't put aside telling us a story of self-actualization couched with the joys, thrill and sadness that can come with love - or that is to say, the love that can't be (and as of on cue, Henreid and Rains went off days after the shoot on this ended to Casablanca, with the former playing the opposite of his role here). And what else is there to say about Bette Davis that hundreds of other critics haven't said over the decades? Why this became such a smash hit isn't a surprise since for the audience perhaps *the* draw is seeing her "become" how she was most likrd to be seen: confident, with a wink in her lips and a curve in her eyes, from big eyebrowed "ugly duckling" to smooth great hat wearing and cigarette smoking operator that she could be. But beneath all of that is a mess of complexity she brings to the emotional range of many scenes, in particular with the actor playing the mother.
Is it a little shy of being All Time Great? On a first viewing, yeah a bit; there's a portion midway through involving a bumbling foreign cab driver that means to add some comic relief, a small touch of suspense and miscommunication, but feels awkward and dated today; except for one part after a significant turning point, be narration is unnecessary; and as much as I love Max Steiner's score it is here in so much of the film that a few scenes could have used no music and been more dramatically impactful (I know that's not a strong critique on a first viewing, like saying the lush gravy is slathered a bit too much on the gourmet mashed potatoes for dinner).
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This is just me picking the nits of what is an exceptionally crafted and executed take on Cinderella for a modern sensibility, a classic of the kind of movie it wants and aims to be, and the last act is surprisingly poignant in how mother-daughter roles take on another context. And to say it closes a chapter in my life finally seeing it is an understatement.
