David Clyde Movies

Ayn Rand wrote this adaptation of Chris Massie's book Pity Mr. Simplicity, about a soldier who falls in love with a former comrade's wife -- an amnesiac who may have murdered her husband. The story begins in Italy when two soldiers, Allen Quinton (Joseph Cotten) and Roger Morland (Robert Sully), hatch a scheme concerning Singleton (Jennifer Jones), his girl back home. Allen agrees to write love letters to Singleton for his friend and, based on the heartfelt emotions evident in the letters, she falls in love with Roger. Returning home, Singleton and Roger marry, but Roger proves to be a drunken, abusive husband. One night, as Roger is beating Singleton, he is stabbed to death by her stepmother. Singleton goes in to shock, rendering her unable to recall the murder, while her stepmother has a stroke, making her unable to speak. Accused of murder, Singleton is sentenced to a year in jail. Allen, in the meantime, hears about the murder of his friend and comes to visit Singleton, and the two proceed to fall in love. ~ Paul Brenner, Rovi

Roundly blasted upon its release because of the extreme liberties it takes with the truth, Devotion is better as cinema than as history. Not that it's great cinema, mind you, mainly because the filmmakers opted to replace historical fact with either tired dramatic clichés or wild improbabilities. As an example of the latter, the film posits that Paul Henreid's character, who is a standard-issue film romantic hero (troubled, but understandably so), is the inspiration for two of the most passionate, fiery characters in the canon of English literature. Arthur Kennedy as brother Bramwell is much more passionate and fiery, a fact which tends to further muddle things up. The generic setting is also disappointing; these ladies wrote as they wrote because of where they lived and how they lived, but little of this makes it to the screen. Fortunately, Devotion has Olivia de Havilland and Ida Lupino on hand. De Havilland is quite good, grabbing hold of whatever she can find in the script and milking it for all it's worth. Lupino does even better, often making this standard-issue (at best) writing seem engaging and moving. As indicated, Kennedy also makes things work for him, and Nancy Coleman does what she can with the little she is handed. Erich Wolfgang Korngold's score provides plenty of the atmosphere that Curtis Bernhardt's direction often lacks. Ultimately, Devotion's assets, particularly Lupino and de Havilland, manage to squeeze it into the winner's column -- but it's a pretty close call. The film was produced in 1943, hence the presence of Montagu Love, who died that year. ~ Craig Butler, Rovi

Billy Wilder's searing portrait of an alcoholic features an Oscar-winning performance by Ray Milland as Don Birnam, a writer whose lust for booze consumes his career, his life, and his loves. The story begins as Don and his brother Wick (Philip Terry) are packing their bags in their New York apartment, preparing for a weekend in the country. Philip, aware of his brother's drinking problem, is keeping an eye of him, making sure he doesn't sneak a drink before the departure of their train. Arriving at the apartment is Don's girlfriend, Helen St. James (Jane Wyman), who has tickets to a Carnegie Hall concert that night. Don persuades Wick and Helen to go to the concert without him, hoping to find one of his well-hidden bottles of booze. But when Wick and Helen go to the concert, Don discovers that Wick has gotten rid of the liquor. Don has no money, so he can't visit the neighborhood bar -- that is, until the cleaning lady arrives to reveal money hidden in a sugar-bowl. Don grabs the cash and hits the street, heading off to Nat's Bar. Nat (Howard Da Silva), a bartender who has seen it all, is surprised to see Don. But when Don shows he can pay for his drinks, Nat reluctantly serves him, telling Don, "One's too many and a thousand's not enough." Soon Don plunges in an alcoholic haze, his boozing landing him in a harrowing drunk tank, presided over by the cynical attendant Bim (Frank Faylen). ~ Paul Brenner, Rovi

The Uninvited is one of the rare Hollywood ghost stories that does not cop out with a "logical" ending. In fact, the film has more in common with British ghost tales of the period, in that the characters calmly accept spectral visitations as though they were everyday occurrences. Roderick Fitzgerald (Ray Milland) and his sister, Pamela (Ruth Hussey), buy a house on the Cornish seacoast, never suspecting that it is a "bad" house, subject to haunting. Before long, Roderick and Pamela are visited by Stella Meredith (Gail Russell), whose late mother, it is said, is the house ghost. It is further supposed that the ghost means to do Stella harm. Stella's grandfather Commander Beech (Donald Crisp) is close-mouthed on the issue, but it is clear he knows something that he isn't telling. Sure enough, there is a secret to the manor: it is inhabited by not one but two ghosts, one of whom is merely trying to shield Stella from harm. Once the film's deep dark secret is revealed (courtesy of a virtuoso "mad speech" by supporting actress Cornelia Otis Skinner), Roderick is able to single-handedly exorcise the estate and claim Stella as his bride. Based on the novel by Dorothy Macardle (with a few uncredited "lifts" from Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca), The Uninvited remains one of the spookiest "old dark house" films ever made, even after years of inundation by computer-generated special effects. Less effective was the 1945 sequel, The Unseen, which starts well but degenerates into a substandard murder mystery. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Jim Hetherton (Franchot Tone), the scion of an aristocratic rural English family, was traumatized from boyhood by a shooting accident and reaches adulthood as a sincere and dedicated pacifist -- like many of his generation in England. He makes his way through life as a schoolteacher with a promising future, and even ponders the possibility of marriage with Dora Bruckmann (Veronica Lake), the governess of his young nephew. But then the Second World War breaks out, which creates a crisis for Jim and his family and household. He decides that he can't a won't fight if it means killing another human being, and is accepted as a conscientious objector by the authorities. But in doing so, he is forced to give up his teaching position and take a job in farming, to contribute to the economic good at home. He soon finds himself being shunned by much of the village for his beliefs, and discovers that even amid a manpower shortage, securing a job to fulfill his service requirement is no easy matter. Meanwhile, his brother (John Sutton) is called up by the RAF, and his father (Henry Stephenson) joins the home guard. And Dora seems headed to an internment camp, until Jim marries her. But what neither he nor anyone else suspects is that Dora is actually an agent planted by the Germans, part of a team of fifth columnists working to undermine the British war effort. And her main concern is finding the location of a secret British airfield in the vicinity of the Hetherton estate. She manages to manipulate Jim by preying on his beliefs, and maneuvers him into potentially betraying his country. ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi

Cary Grant delivered Oscar-calibre performances all his life, but only when he played against type in None But the Lonely Heart did the Academy Awards people break down and give him a nomination. Grant plays a restless, irresponsible cockney who seeks a better life but doesn't seem to have the emotional wherewithal to work for such a life. The hero's shiftlessness extends to his love life; musician Jane Wyatt genuinely cares for him, but he prefers the company of fickle gangster's ex-wife June Duprez. June's former husband George Coulouris convinces Grant that the quickest means to wealth is a life of crime, but Grant drops this aspect of his life to take care of his terminally ill mother Ethel Barrymore. While Cary Grant did not win the Oscar he so richly deserved for None But the Lonely Heart, Ethel Barrymore did cop the gold statuette. Written and directed by Clifford Odets, None But the Lonely Heart unfortunately lost money for RKO, which could have used a little extra cash after paying the expenses of temporarily closing Ms. Barrymore's Broadway play The Corn is Green. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Director Robert Stevenson collaborated with novelist Aldous Huxley and theatrical-producer John Houseman on the screenplay for this 1944 adaptation of Charlotte Bronte's gothic romance Jane Eyre. After several harrowing years in an orphanage, where she was placed by a supercilious relative for exhibiting the forbidden trait of "willfulness," Jane Eyre (Joan Fontaine) secures work as a governess. Her little charge, French-accented Adele (Margaret O'Brien), is pleasant enough. But Jane's employer, the brooding, tormented Edward Rochester (Orson Welles), terrifies the prim young governess. Under Jane's gentle influence, Rochester drops his forbidding veneer, going so far as to propose marriage to Jane. But they are forbidden connubial happiness when it is revealed that Rochester is still married to a gibbering lunatic whom he is forced to keep locked in his attic. Rochester reluctantly sends Jane away, but she returns, only to find that the insane wife has burned down the mansion and rendered Rochester sightless. In the tradition of Victorian romances, this purges Rochester of any previous sins, making him a worthy mate for the loving Jane. The presence of Orson Welles in the cast (he receives top billing), coupled with the dark, Germanic style of the direction and photography, has led some impressionable cineasts to conclude that Welles, and not Stevenson, was the director. To be sure, Welles contributed ideas throughout the filming; also, the script was heavily influenced by the Mercury Theater on the Air radio version of Jane Eyre, on which Welles, John Houseman and musical director Bernard Herrmann all collaborated. But Jane Eyre was made at 20th Century-Fox, a studio disinclined to promote the auteur theory; like most Fox productions, this is a work by committee rather than the product of one man. This in no way detracts from the overall excellence of the film; of all adaptations of Jane Eyre (it had previously been filmed in 1913, 1915 and 1921, and has been remade several times since), this 1943 version is one of the best. Keep an eye out for an uncredited Elizabeth Taylor as the consumptive orphanage friend of young Jane Eyre (played as child by Peggy Ann Gardner). ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

A princess finds love with a regular American Joe in this patriotic romantic comedy. A European diplomat (Charles Coburn) is named an ambassador to the U.S., and when he relocates to Washington D.C., he's accompanied by his niece, Princess Maria (Olivia de Havilland). Maria's uncle hopes that she'll meet an eligible American bachelor during her visit, since potential husbands are in short supply at home. Maria tires of her uncle's attempts at matchmaking, and when he suggests that she take a side trip to San Francisco, she leaps at the chance. However, Maria has a fear of flying, and when she's given tranquilizers to settle her nerves, she passes out in mid-flight. Maria is down for the count when bad weather forces the flight to return to Washington, and pilot Eddie O'Rourke (Robert Cummings) volunteers to put her up for the night. When Maria comes to, she's struck by Eddie's decency and charm, and it's love at first sight for them. However, Maria's uncle was hoping for someone higher up the social ladder than a pilot, and the lovebirds have an uphill battle getting him to consent to their wedding. No one seems sure if it's actually President Franklin D. Roosevelt appearing in the film's final scenes or just an impersonator, but apparently FDR's dog Fala did actually play himself. ~ Mark Deming, Rovi

This rambling historical drama covers 109 years in the life of one woman. Encased in convincing old-age makeup, Barbara Stanwyck reminisces on her experiences in the American West. As a young woman, she is squired by gambler Brian Donlevy, but her heart belongs to dreamer Joel McCrea. She chooses McCrea, and the first years of their marriage are poor but happy. Then McCrea strikes oil, becoming one of his state's richest men. With Stanwyck at his side, McCrea climbs up the ladder of success all the way to the political arena--while Donlevy lurks in the background in hopes of reclaiming his girl. The Great Man's Lady is a surprisingly sedate vehicle for both Stanwyck and action director William A. Wellman. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

In this grim melodrama, Barbara Stanwyck plays the eldest of three wealthy sisters who become orphans when their father dies in France. Threatened with the danger of losing the opulent family home, Big Sister makes a grand sacrifice and secretly marries a real estate developer so she can inherit her aunt's fortune. A few years later, she learns that he is after the family estate and wants to tear it down so she leaves him and tries to stop him. More time passes and the husband ends up taking her to court when he learns that she has borne him a son without telling him. The part of "Gig Young" was played by actor Byron Barr who later assumed the name before he became famous. ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

With America's Air Force not completely mobilized in mid-1942, Universal paid tribute to those foresighted Yankee flyboys who joined England's Royal Air Force before America's entry into WW2 in Eagle Squadron. Robert Stack stars as Chuck Brewer, one of several US flyers participating in RAF bombing raids of Germany. The film stresses the importance of hands-across-the-sea teamwork in this massive undertaking, concluding with Brewer leading his British compatriots on a Commando raid behind enemy lines, the better to capture a revolutionary new Nazi war plane. Every so often, the story slows to a walk as Brewer romances British lass Anne Partridge, played by the unfortunate Diana Barrymore in her last truly important screen role. Producer Walter Wanger made special arrangements with the British government to incorporate several exciting shots of authentic air battles in the film's 108 minutes. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

An expert cast of farceurs goes through its customary paces in MGM's The Feminine Touch. Don Ameche plays college professor-turned-author John Hathaway, who hits upon a potential best-seller with his book on marital jealousy. He heads to New York with his lovely wife Julie (Rosalind Russell), there to commisserate with publisher Elliot Morgan (Van Heflin), whose job it is to "popularize" Hathaway's scholarly tome. Instead, Morgan falls head over heels in love with Julie, forcing John to consult his own book as a balm to his own jealousy. Meanwhile, Morgan's sweetheart Nellie Woods (Kay Francis) tries to take drastic measures to win back her beau, leading Julie to conclude that Nellie is making a play for John! And that's the name of the tune for the remainder of the film's 97 minute. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi