Who is the main antagonist of 'The Heiress'? Is it Dr. Sloper, who continually humiliates his daughter because she can't measure up to his deceased wife but ends up leaving his fortune to her anyway? Or is it Catherine, whose self-esteem growing up, takes a beating at the hands of her father, only to transform herself later on into a calculating independent woman who coldly fails to visit her father on his deathbed and takes revenge on a conniving suitor? Or is it Morris Townsend, the ne'r-do-well who brings a little excitement into the life of the socially backward Catherine but all along is simply after her inheritance? It is precisely these ambiguities that have sparked so much discussion on the internet regarding this flawed but fascinating film classic.
Many internet posters consider Dr. Sloper the true villain of the piece. But is he? By the standards of the 21st century, some view him as a classic misogynist. But in terms of when the story is supposed to take place, the 1840s, he's actually a true man of his times. When Catherine brings the fish she's bought from the fish vendor into the house, Dr. Sloper gently reminds her that she's failing to follow the typical class protocol of the time—which is to have the vendor bring the fish into the house. But does he run down the street and thrash the vendor with a cane because the man failed to assist his 'social betters'? The vendor's 'faux pas' along with Catherine's, hardly concerns the good doctor.
But there are those who fault Dr. Sloper for being violent on the inside—the way in which he inflicts grave psychological harm to his daughter. He tells his sister, Mrs. Penniman, that he considers Catherine "mediocre" and "lacks poise" but on the other hand, gently reassures her to her face that "she's not a disturbing person". Today, young people who are developmentally disabled are not stigmatized the way they were 160 years ago. They see psychologists or go to special schools. But in 1849, there were no shades of gray when it came to mental health. Those who were considered 'slow' or 'childlike' had to 'sink or swim'. Dr. Sloper's patronizing attitude toward his daughter was a mixture of both contempt and true parental concern. In a sense, Dr. Sloper was a 19th century advocate of today's 'tough love'. He 'expected' his daughter to adjust but when he saw that she didn't have the insight to see through Morris, he didn't forbid her never to see him again—rather, he judiciously suggested a compromise where he took her to Europe, where he was hoping that she might come to her senses.
After their return to New York, Dr. Sloper made some hurtful, inappropriate comments to Catherine after she informs her father that she hasn't changed her mind and still intends to marry Morris. He tells her that she has nothing to offer and men will be only be interested in her for her money. Clearly, he's frustrated with her since she can't see through Morris and leaves her with the famous line that her only real talent is her neat embroidery. Catherine's emotional transformation from naive waif to the steel-hearted heiress in a heartbeat is perhaps the least convincing scene in the movie. But hey, that's what melodrama is all about! To confess, I liked Olivia de Haviland in the second half where she's much better at playing a Cruella de Ville than a Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.
As for Catherine, it's clear she's depicted as a tragic figure, incorporating all of her father's bad points and becoming even more inflexible than he. When Dr. Sloper is dying, he's even willing to praise her gumption in deciding not to go with Morris. But as he reaches out, Catherine falsely tells her father that she's still in love with Morris, just to get back at him even more. The coup de grace is when she fails to visit her father on his deathbed. I would say a majority of people when they get older, forgive their parents and acknowledge that they tried their best. But not so with the embittered Catherine.
Finally there's Morris Townsend whose character was modified to be more benign from the original source material of the play the movie was based on. This was done at the behest of the film's producers, who felt that the public would not accept a romantic leading man such as Montgomery Clift, as a malevolent villain. Morris is the weakest of the three principals, precisely because we find out so little about him. He's a charmer and has a nefarious plan and that's it. And while he deserves his comeuppance when Catherine locks him out of the house, I found the way in which she takes revenge to be rather a dull and unoriginal plan. There needed to be something a little more dramatic and clever for the finale, instead of Montgomery Clift locked out of the house and simply banging incessantly on the door.
I would be remiss if I also failed to mention the comic relief of the story—and that's Aunt Lavinia Penniman. She's also an ambiguous character in that she's quite supportive of Catherine but undermines her at the same time due to her support of Townsend. Penniman's problem is she's addicted to romance novels. So it doesn't matter whether Townsend is a scoundrel or not; her need is to live vicariously and have her 'fix' of romance--blinding her to the reality of Townsend's scheme which ultimately contributes to Catherine's heartache, by egging her on into the lion's den.
Has Catherine actually turned a new page in her life after taking revenge on Morris? Like so many other scenes in this film, it's ambiguous. But it's really the dynamic father-daughter relationship which makes the film so compelling and has led to so much stimulating discussion about it on the internet.
Many internet posters consider Dr. Sloper the true villain of the piece. But is he? By the standards of the 21st century, some view him as a classic misogynist. But in terms of when the story is supposed to take place, the 1840s, he's actually a true man of his times. When Catherine brings the fish she's bought from the fish vendor into the house, Dr. Sloper gently reminds her that she's failing to follow the typical class protocol of the time—which is to have the vendor bring the fish into the house. But does he run down the street and thrash the vendor with a cane because the man failed to assist his 'social betters'? The vendor's 'faux pas' along with Catherine's, hardly concerns the good doctor.
But there are those who fault Dr. Sloper for being violent on the inside—the way in which he inflicts grave psychological harm to his daughter. He tells his sister, Mrs. Penniman, that he considers Catherine "mediocre" and "lacks poise" but on the other hand, gently reassures her to her face that "she's not a disturbing person". Today, young people who are developmentally disabled are not stigmatized the way they were 160 years ago. They see psychologists or go to special schools. But in 1849, there were no shades of gray when it came to mental health. Those who were considered 'slow' or 'childlike' had to 'sink or swim'. Dr. Sloper's patronizing attitude toward his daughter was a mixture of both contempt and true parental concern. In a sense, Dr. Sloper was a 19th century advocate of today's 'tough love'. He 'expected' his daughter to adjust but when he saw that she didn't have the insight to see through Morris, he didn't forbid her never to see him again—rather, he judiciously suggested a compromise where he took her to Europe, where he was hoping that she might come to her senses.
After their return to New York, Dr. Sloper made some hurtful, inappropriate comments to Catherine after she informs her father that she hasn't changed her mind and still intends to marry Morris. He tells her that she has nothing to offer and men will be only be interested in her for her money. Clearly, he's frustrated with her since she can't see through Morris and leaves her with the famous line that her only real talent is her neat embroidery. Catherine's emotional transformation from naive waif to the steel-hearted heiress in a heartbeat is perhaps the least convincing scene in the movie. But hey, that's what melodrama is all about! To confess, I liked Olivia de Haviland in the second half where she's much better at playing a Cruella de Ville than a Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.
As for Catherine, it's clear she's depicted as a tragic figure, incorporating all of her father's bad points and becoming even more inflexible than he. When Dr. Sloper is dying, he's even willing to praise her gumption in deciding not to go with Morris. But as he reaches out, Catherine falsely tells her father that she's still in love with Morris, just to get back at him even more. The coup de grace is when she fails to visit her father on his deathbed. I would say a majority of people when they get older, forgive their parents and acknowledge that they tried their best. But not so with the embittered Catherine.
Finally there's Morris Townsend whose character was modified to be more benign from the original source material of the play the movie was based on. This was done at the behest of the film's producers, who felt that the public would not accept a romantic leading man such as Montgomery Clift, as a malevolent villain. Morris is the weakest of the three principals, precisely because we find out so little about him. He's a charmer and has a nefarious plan and that's it. And while he deserves his comeuppance when Catherine locks him out of the house, I found the way in which she takes revenge to be rather a dull and unoriginal plan. There needed to be something a little more dramatic and clever for the finale, instead of Montgomery Clift locked out of the house and simply banging incessantly on the door.
I would be remiss if I also failed to mention the comic relief of the story—and that's Aunt Lavinia Penniman. She's also an ambiguous character in that she's quite supportive of Catherine but undermines her at the same time due to her support of Townsend. Penniman's problem is she's addicted to romance novels. So it doesn't matter whether Townsend is a scoundrel or not; her need is to live vicariously and have her 'fix' of romance--blinding her to the reality of Townsend's scheme which ultimately contributes to Catherine's heartache, by egging her on into the lion's den.
Has Catherine actually turned a new page in her life after taking revenge on Morris? Like so many other scenes in this film, it's ambiguous. But it's really the dynamic father-daughter relationship which makes the film so compelling and has led to so much stimulating discussion about it on the internet.