Weißer Oleander (1946)

Weißer Oleander: Directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz. With Gene Tierney, Walter Huston, Vincent Price, Glenn Langan. A simple Connecticut farm girl is recruited by a distant relative, an aristocratic patroon, to be governess to his young daughter in his Hudson Valley mansion.

“The success of Hitchcocku0026#39;s u0026#39;Rebecca (1940)u0026#39; triggered a mighty insurgence of similarly-themed Gothic post-marriage melodramas – in which naive young women mistakenly fall in love with wealthy but secretly-disturbed, and usually recently widowed, husbands. They were whisked off the production shelf with admirable efficiency, each title starring a promising or established young beauty of the decade: Fontaine in u0026#39;Rebecca,u0026#39; Bergman in u0026#39;Gaslight (1944),u0026#39; and Bennett in u0026#39;Secret Beyond the Door (1947).u0026#39; John M. Stahlu0026#39;s u0026#39;Leave Her to Heaven (1945)u0026#39; is notable in that it turns the gender tables, emphasising the lovely Gene Tierney as the spouse whose dubious intentions could destroy an innocent loveru0026#39;s life. The following year, in u0026#39;Dragonwyck (1946),u0026#39; Tierney appeared in a more conventional variation of the theme, as an inexperienced Connecticut farm girl who falls for Nicholas Van Ryn (Vincent Price), an aristocratic patroon who represents arrogance, injustice and everything against which her strictly-religious father (Walter Huston) had warned her. This, the fourth and final film to co-star Tierney and Price, features one of the latteru0026#39;s most demented, unforgettable performances.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eI could tell you that I watched u0026#39;Dragonwycku0026#39; to enjoy the earliest available film from director Joseph L. Mankiewicz, but you and I both know this to be untrue: I watched it because of Gene. Her mere presence is enough to brighten up even the darkest drama, displaying a graceful poise even as the pictureu0026#39;s innocent and vulnerable heroine. Price, in one of his early, largely-neglected roles, is absolutely wonderful, a simmering melting-pot of self-pride and contempt, obscured behind a icy blue-eyed stare. He obviously relished the opportunity to play a tyrannical aristocrat wife-hater, though his drug addiction (presumably to opium) regrettably remains unexplored beyond a brief mention. Glenn Langan, playing the obligatory nice-guy character, is a largely uninteresting creation, serving only to remind us that itu0026#39;s the raving maniacs whom we enjoy watching the most. Cinematographer Arthur C. Miller pulls out the usual photographic tricks, turning the looming Dragonwyck estate into a moody mansion of shadows and suffused light.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eThe screenplay was adapted by Mankiewicz from a novel by Anya Seton, and, despite the storyu0026#39;s clear derivation from previous films, his writing is adequate if unremarkable. Some elements have undoubtedly aged, most especially Miranda Wellsu0026#39; ecstatic Bible-school exclamation of u0026quot;golly Moses!,u0026quot; and nowadays Nicholasu0026#39; fervent atheism doesnu0026#39;t seem like quite the evil quality it was sixty years ago. The story itself also feels half-cocked, the screenplay skipping key moments of the narrative, as though with the understanding that weu0026#39;ve seen enough of these sorts of films to fill in the gaps ourselves. Additionally, and perhaps most damningly, the supernatural subplot – of the tragic Van Ryn ancestor who can occasionally be heard playing beautiful music – is underexplored to such an extent that I wonder why this was even included to begin with. But, of course, in my haste to criticise, Iu0026#39;m neglecting to mention the finer points of Mankiewiczu0026#39;s screenplay, with plenty of sharp dialogue and strong characterisations for the most part. This isnu0026#39;t u0026#39;Rebecca,u0026#39; but itu0026#39;s worth a look.”