It is often said that when something seems too good to be true, it probably is. That may be so, but there are exceptions to every rule. THE HEIRESS is certainly cause for exception.
This film carries with it an emotional power that is unequaled by so many films in the history of American cinema. There really are no bad roles in this film, and all of the supporting players turn in good performances with what they are given. Miriam Hopkins and Montgomery Clift give tremendously adept performances as Aunt Penniman and Morris, but the film is carried to completely different heights by Olivia de Havilland and Ralph Richardson.
As Catherine walks up the stairs after being abandoned by Morris, it is wholly possible for the viewer to feel the weight of her pain and the burden of her struggle. It almost seems like the staircase is interminable, and that she will never make it to the top. When Catherine fumbles around for her dance card, nervous and excited due to Morris' attentiveness, one might be able to sense her giddiness, and want to reach through the screen and assist her. So real and so palpable is de Havilland's performance, that even her most seasoned fan can watch this film and completely forget that he is watching Olivia de Havilland; this film is about Catherine Sloper, and she is the only one de Havilland presents from the opening frame to the end credits.
Ralph Richardson gives a performance of equal magnitude in his portrayal of Dr. Austin Sloper. Richardson creates a rather believable, rather human duality in the character of Dr. Sloper -- after countless viewings of this film, I am still not completely sure if he is more guided by love ("I don't want to disinherit my only child!") or spite ("Only I know what I lost when she died...and what I got in her place."). Richardson tackles each facet of the character with great integrity, never once wavering in his skill and performance.
On a technical note, this film is fascinating for director William Wyler's use of space. When several people are conversing in one area, he does not always have them relating to each other all on one level. In the bon voyage scene, for example, Dr. Sloper stands nearest to the camera, gazing away from the action happening to his left. The viewer then has the opportunity to see Morris and Catherine's tender parting moment, Sloper's disgusted reaction, and Aunt Penniman's giddy/uncertain response. Numerous things occur simultaneously, just as they would in a real-life situation. The multiple layers of action allow even someone who has seen the film countless times to spot something new and different with each viewing. Further, Wyler's use of mirrors and lamp light is stunning as well, and serve to set the mood in a rather large, rather empty (physically and emotionally) mid 19th century home.
I have said so much already, and I know I could say much more in praise of this film if I allowed myself. Suffice it to say, this film is a must-see for all classic film fans, and even for people who don't know they are. It is certainly one of the finest in Hollywood history, and I am confident it will be discussed for many years to come.
This film carries with it an emotional power that is unequaled by so many films in the history of American cinema. There really are no bad roles in this film, and all of the supporting players turn in good performances with what they are given. Miriam Hopkins and Montgomery Clift give tremendously adept performances as Aunt Penniman and Morris, but the film is carried to completely different heights by Olivia de Havilland and Ralph Richardson.
As Catherine walks up the stairs after being abandoned by Morris, it is wholly possible for the viewer to feel the weight of her pain and the burden of her struggle. It almost seems like the staircase is interminable, and that she will never make it to the top. When Catherine fumbles around for her dance card, nervous and excited due to Morris' attentiveness, one might be able to sense her giddiness, and want to reach through the screen and assist her. So real and so palpable is de Havilland's performance, that even her most seasoned fan can watch this film and completely forget that he is watching Olivia de Havilland; this film is about Catherine Sloper, and she is the only one de Havilland presents from the opening frame to the end credits.
Ralph Richardson gives a performance of equal magnitude in his portrayal of Dr. Austin Sloper. Richardson creates a rather believable, rather human duality in the character of Dr. Sloper -- after countless viewings of this film, I am still not completely sure if he is more guided by love ("I don't want to disinherit my only child!") or spite ("Only I know what I lost when she died...and what I got in her place."). Richardson tackles each facet of the character with great integrity, never once wavering in his skill and performance.
On a technical note, this film is fascinating for director William Wyler's use of space. When several people are conversing in one area, he does not always have them relating to each other all on one level. In the bon voyage scene, for example, Dr. Sloper stands nearest to the camera, gazing away from the action happening to his left. The viewer then has the opportunity to see Morris and Catherine's tender parting moment, Sloper's disgusted reaction, and Aunt Penniman's giddy/uncertain response. Numerous things occur simultaneously, just as they would in a real-life situation. The multiple layers of action allow even someone who has seen the film countless times to spot something new and different with each viewing. Further, Wyler's use of mirrors and lamp light is stunning as well, and serve to set the mood in a rather large, rather empty (physically and emotionally) mid 19th century home.
I have said so much already, and I know I could say much more in praise of this film if I allowed myself. Suffice it to say, this film is a must-see for all classic film fans, and even for people who don't know they are. It is certainly one of the finest in Hollywood history, and I am confident it will be discussed for many years to come.