Major Barbara


2h 1m 1941

Brief Synopsis

A munitions manufacturer tries to reconcile with his revivalist daughter.

Film Details

Genre
Comedy
Drama
Satire
Adaptation
Release Date
1941

Technical Specs

Duration
2h 1m
Sound
Mono
Color
Black and White
Theatrical Aspect Ratio
1.37 : 1

Synopsis

A munitions manufacturer tries to reconcile with his revivalist daughter.

Film Details

Genre
Comedy
Drama
Satire
Adaptation
Release Date
1941

Technical Specs

Duration
2h 1m
Sound
Mono
Color
Black and White
Theatrical Aspect Ratio
1.37 : 1

Articles

Major Barbara


Gabriel Pascal's film adaptation of Bernard Shaw's Major Barbara (1941) remains the strongest adaptation of a Shaw play after Pygmalion (1938), thanks to the director's close collaboration with Shaw and to its outstanding cast.

The play was originally staged in 1905 at the Royal Court Theatre in London, with Annie Russell in the title role, Louis Calvert as Undershaft, and Granville Barker as Cusins. A comedy of ideas in the same vein as Shaw's Man and Superman (1903) and John Bull's Other Island (1905), Major Barbara pits the title character, an idealist member of the Salvation Army, against her father Andrew Undershaft, a wealthy arms manufacturer. Besides making a religion out of wealth, Mr. Undershaft regards poverty as a disease that should be eradicated, not as an opportunity for salvation. In his rambling 1906 Preface Shaw even refers to Undershaft as the "hero" of the play, despite his own Fabian Socialist beliefs. In fact, one working title for the play was Andrew Undershaft's Profession, playfully alluding to Shaw's banned play Mrs. Warren's Profession (1893). At the same time, Shaw also clearly admires the passionate conviction of the Salvationists to a certain extent.

Some of Shaw's other plays such as Pygmalion are more frequently revived today, but Major Barbara nonetheless stands out as an example of how Shaw can create witty dialogue and full-blooded characters around a conflict of ideas or world views. Act II in particular is brilliantly structured around Barbara's attempt to save the dissolute Bill Walker, culminating in a crisis in faith precipitated by her father arriving to make a large donation to the church. Running about three hours uncut, the play presents a considerable challenge for actors, especially the part of Andrew Undershaft. After the play's premiere, Shaw complained about the difficulty Louis Calvert had delivering Undershaft's lengthy speeches.

According to Gabriel Pascal's ex-wife Valerie, Pascal met Shaw during the mid-1920s while swimming nude at the French Riviera. Impressed by Pascal's knowledge of his plays, Shaw later granted him permission to film Pygmalion, which became a remarkable success and even earned Shaw an Oscar® for Best Screenplay. This time, unlike Pygmalion, Pascal served as both director and producer in order to retain more control over the finished product. However, his tendency to run over budget and his overly generous profit-sharing deals with financiers meant that he personally earned very little money from Major Barbara, as was the case with Pygmalion.

For the film adaptation, at Pascal's suggestion Shaw cut many pages of dialogue from the play and added new scenes such as: the prologue in which Cusins first meets Barbara, Bill Walker's failed attempt to fight with Todger Fairmile, and Cusin's drunken spree at Undershaft's house. Shaw didn't always agree with Pascal's proposed changes--in particular he objected to having Bill Walker reappear at the very end--though for the most part the finished film reflects his intentions and thus should be understood as a legitimate variation on the play.

In addition to Wendy Hiller, Marie Lohr and David Tree were carried over from the cast of the film version of Pygmalion to play Lady Britomart and Charles "Cholly" Lomax, respectively. Pascal and Shaw originally wanted John Mills to play Cusins, then Maurice Evans and Alec Guinness. However, the outbreak of war complicated their plans and they eventually went with Rex Harrison. For the part of Bill Walker, they first considered Ralph Richardson and John Clement before settling on Robert Newton. Shaw wrote the part as a tour-de-force of Cockney slang, using non-standard spelling to indicate the pronunciation: "Aw'm nao gin drinker, you oald lawr; bat wen Aw want to give my girl a bloomin' good awdin Aw lawk to ev a bit o devil in me: see?" It might seem that Newton didn't push the accent as far as the written dialogue indicates, but his memorable incarnation of Walker threatens to steal Act II and anticipates his unforgettable, menacing turn as Sikes in David Lean's Oliver Twist (1948). Shaw himself was pleased with the performance.

Ultimately, Major Barbara took six months to shoot, from June to December of 1940. From July to October of that year, the country was literally under siege from Germany during the Battle of Britain. Because of the war, the film was shot at Denham Studios rather than Pinewood Studios, and at a reduced budget. An even greater challenge was finding good quality film stock, since American Kodak stock could no longer be imported. To make matters worse, Donald Calthrop passed away on July 15, before his part as Peter Shirley was finished shooting, requiring Pascal to redistribute some of the lines and to use a stand-in for the remaining shots that required Shirley's presence. Fortunately, the finished product hardly betrays these difficulties.

Producer and Director: Gabriel Pascal
Screenplay: George Bernard Shaw and Gabriel Pascal, based on the play by Shaw.
Cinematography: Ronald Neame
Production Design: Vincent Korda
Art Direction: John Bryan and Vincent Korda
Music: William Walton
Editing: Charles Frend and David Lean
Cast: Wendy Hiller (Major Barbara Undershaft); Robert Morley (Andrew Undershaft); Rex Harrison (Adolphus Cusins); Robert Newton (Bill Walker); Sybil Thorndike (The General); Emlyn Williams (Snobby Price); Stanley Holloway (Policeman); Marie Lohr (Lady Britomart); Penelope Dudley-Ward (Sarah Undershaft); Walter Hudd (Stephen Undershaft); David Tree (Charles Lomax); Deborah Kerr (Jenny Hill); Donald Calthrop (Peter Shirley); Marie Ault (Rummy Mitchens); Cathleen Cordell (Mog Habbijam); Torin Thatcher (Todger Fairmile).
BW-121m.

by James Steffen

SOURCES:
Shaw, Bernard. Major Barbara. Edited by Nicholas Grene. London: Methuen Drama, 2008.
Pascal, Valerie. The Disciple and His Devil. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1970.
Dukore, Bernard F., ed. Bernard Shaw and Gabriel Pascal. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996.
Major Barbara

Major Barbara

Gabriel Pascal's film adaptation of Bernard Shaw's Major Barbara (1941) remains the strongest adaptation of a Shaw play after Pygmalion (1938), thanks to the director's close collaboration with Shaw and to its outstanding cast. The play was originally staged in 1905 at the Royal Court Theatre in London, with Annie Russell in the title role, Louis Calvert as Undershaft, and Granville Barker as Cusins. A comedy of ideas in the same vein as Shaw's Man and Superman (1903) and John Bull's Other Island (1905), Major Barbara pits the title character, an idealist member of the Salvation Army, against her father Andrew Undershaft, a wealthy arms manufacturer. Besides making a religion out of wealth, Mr. Undershaft regards poverty as a disease that should be eradicated, not as an opportunity for salvation. In his rambling 1906 Preface Shaw even refers to Undershaft as the "hero" of the play, despite his own Fabian Socialist beliefs. In fact, one working title for the play was Andrew Undershaft's Profession, playfully alluding to Shaw's banned play Mrs. Warren's Profession (1893). At the same time, Shaw also clearly admires the passionate conviction of the Salvationists to a certain extent. Some of Shaw's other plays such as Pygmalion are more frequently revived today, but Major Barbara nonetheless stands out as an example of how Shaw can create witty dialogue and full-blooded characters around a conflict of ideas or world views. Act II in particular is brilliantly structured around Barbara's attempt to save the dissolute Bill Walker, culminating in a crisis in faith precipitated by her father arriving to make a large donation to the church. Running about three hours uncut, the play presents a considerable challenge for actors, especially the part of Andrew Undershaft. After the play's premiere, Shaw complained about the difficulty Louis Calvert had delivering Undershaft's lengthy speeches. According to Gabriel Pascal's ex-wife Valerie, Pascal met Shaw during the mid-1920s while swimming nude at the French Riviera. Impressed by Pascal's knowledge of his plays, Shaw later granted him permission to film Pygmalion, which became a remarkable success and even earned Shaw an Oscar® for Best Screenplay. This time, unlike Pygmalion, Pascal served as both director and producer in order to retain more control over the finished product. However, his tendency to run over budget and his overly generous profit-sharing deals with financiers meant that he personally earned very little money from Major Barbara, as was the case with Pygmalion. For the film adaptation, at Pascal's suggestion Shaw cut many pages of dialogue from the play and added new scenes such as: the prologue in which Cusins first meets Barbara, Bill Walker's failed attempt to fight with Todger Fairmile, and Cusin's drunken spree at Undershaft's house. Shaw didn't always agree with Pascal's proposed changes--in particular he objected to having Bill Walker reappear at the very end--though for the most part the finished film reflects his intentions and thus should be understood as a legitimate variation on the play. In addition to Wendy Hiller, Marie Lohr and David Tree were carried over from the cast of the film version of Pygmalion to play Lady Britomart and Charles "Cholly" Lomax, respectively. Pascal and Shaw originally wanted John Mills to play Cusins, then Maurice Evans and Alec Guinness. However, the outbreak of war complicated their plans and they eventually went with Rex Harrison. For the part of Bill Walker, they first considered Ralph Richardson and John Clement before settling on Robert Newton. Shaw wrote the part as a tour-de-force of Cockney slang, using non-standard spelling to indicate the pronunciation: "Aw'm nao gin drinker, you oald lawr; bat wen Aw want to give my girl a bloomin' good awdin Aw lawk to ev a bit o devil in me: see?" It might seem that Newton didn't push the accent as far as the written dialogue indicates, but his memorable incarnation of Walker threatens to steal Act II and anticipates his unforgettable, menacing turn as Sikes in David Lean's Oliver Twist (1948). Shaw himself was pleased with the performance. Ultimately, Major Barbara took six months to shoot, from June to December of 1940. From July to October of that year, the country was literally under siege from Germany during the Battle of Britain. Because of the war, the film was shot at Denham Studios rather than Pinewood Studios, and at a reduced budget. An even greater challenge was finding good quality film stock, since American Kodak stock could no longer be imported. To make matters worse, Donald Calthrop passed away on July 15, before his part as Peter Shirley was finished shooting, requiring Pascal to redistribute some of the lines and to use a stand-in for the remaining shots that required Shirley's presence. Fortunately, the finished product hardly betrays these difficulties. Producer and Director: Gabriel Pascal Screenplay: George Bernard Shaw and Gabriel Pascal, based on the play by Shaw. Cinematography: Ronald Neame Production Design: Vincent Korda Art Direction: John Bryan and Vincent Korda Music: William Walton Editing: Charles Frend and David Lean Cast: Wendy Hiller (Major Barbara Undershaft); Robert Morley (Andrew Undershaft); Rex Harrison (Adolphus Cusins); Robert Newton (Bill Walker); Sybil Thorndike (The General); Emlyn Williams (Snobby Price); Stanley Holloway (Policeman); Marie Lohr (Lady Britomart); Penelope Dudley-Ward (Sarah Undershaft); Walter Hudd (Stephen Undershaft); David Tree (Charles Lomax); Deborah Kerr (Jenny Hill); Donald Calthrop (Peter Shirley); Marie Ault (Rummy Mitchens); Cathleen Cordell (Mog Habbijam); Torin Thatcher (Todger Fairmile). BW-121m. by James Steffen SOURCES: Shaw, Bernard. Major Barbara. Edited by Nicholas Grene. London: Methuen Drama, 2008. Pascal, Valerie. The Disciple and His Devil. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1970. Dukore, Bernard F., ed. Bernard Shaw and Gabriel Pascal. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996.

George Bernard Shaw on Film: Eclipse Series 20


Two months into 2010, the most interesting DVD release of the year so far is Eclipse's George Bernard Shaw on Film, a three-picture disc set based on plays by the extremely individualistic Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw. Gabriel Pascal directed two and produced all three. The story goes that Shaw rebuffed big studio offers but allied with Pascal based upon the young man's persistence. Their most famous adaptation by far is the glowingly successful 1938 classic Pygmalion with Wendy Hiller and Leslie Howard. Cast with talented stars and humming with Bernard Shaw's precise and witty dialogue, all three of these pictures are great entertainment.

Shaw is renowned for turning his plays into freewheeling social debates, and 1941's Major Barbara examines the nature of organized charity, satirizing its effect on a very imperfect London. Fresh from Pygmalion, Wendy Hiller has a standout role as the highly motivated and charismatic Salvation Army Major Barbara Britomart. Barbara finds an acolyte and husband in Adophus Cusins, a penniless scholar of Greek surprised to discover that Barbara comes from a wealthy family. The play's conflict and much of its humor are provided by Barbara's estranged father Andrew (a hilarious Robert Morley). He's a big wheel in the munitions game -- a highly profitable business in conflict with Barbara's Christian philosophy. The fun comes when the "devilish" Andrew sets out to prove to his daughter that money, not morality, is the key to human happiness. Barbara must resist temptation while simultaneously winning the soul of Bill Walker (Robert Newton), a belligerent Cockney ne'er-do-well who fights tooth and nail to avoid enlistment in the Salvation Army's legion of believers. In for extra fun is the very young Deborah Kerr, in her first film role.

Bernard Shaw adapted Major Barbara personally, and although the text has been shortened his characteristic complexities are untouched. The play takes several unpredictable turns, foiling attempts to predict the direction Shaw's impish "debate" will take. Just when we expect Barbara to triumph, surprises follow at the rate of one every three minutes. After throwing our preconceptions about charity, progress and happiness into a spin, Shaw endorses a radical new kind of humanist "faith": instead of winning souls by feeding the hungry, Barbara should first work for an equitable society and bring faith to the masses afterwards.

We're told that Major Barbara was filmed as bombs fell during the London Blitz. It's still a filmed play but director Pascal and his topnotch art directors Vincent Korda and John Bryan see to it that the visuals are stunning. The Salvation Army Mission is in a run-down lot near the docks and Andrew Underschaft's massive armaments factory / worker's city of the future is like something out of Things to Come. But the colorful characters are what we cherish, from Rex Harrison's likeable scholar to the Mission's "saved" freeloaders. They invent disadvantaged backgrounds so that, when they find God, the charity workers can feel more accomplished. The mischievous wink of author Shaw is evident in every scene: when Barbara suddenly feels the bitterness of disillusion, Bill Walker is right there to twist the knife: "What price salvation now, sister?"

1945's Caesar and Cleopatra is Gabriel Pascal's massive attempt to trump the Yankees in the Technicolor epic stakes. Despite its commercial failure it now plays as an intelligent, funny and charming antidote to overblown and pompous Hollywood treatments of similar material. George Bernard Shaw's 1898 play has been opened up with massive sets and location filming -- in Egypt, before the finish of the war -- but retains Shaw's refreshingly cynical views on political and military power. Although one of the main characters is Brittanus (Cecil Parker), an opinionated Celtic advisor from a certain backward isle to the West, Shaw's agenda includes a sly comparison of Rome's corrupt empire and that of modern England.

The cast is ideal. Claude Rains has one of his best roles ever as Julius Caesar, a clever conqueror who befriends his enemies and conceals his moral convictions behind a cynical front. Vivien Leigh, perhaps the most in-demand actress of the time, plays Cleopatra as a teenaged contradiction, alternating between childish antics and destructive willfulness. Cleopatra meets Caesar under a sphinx at night and is immediately captivated by the Roman's playfulness, wisdom and natural authority. She allows Caesar to occupy part of Alexandria while Egypt's leaders (including Francis L. Sullivan's imposing Pothinus) scheme to put Cleo's brother Ptolemy (Anthony Harvey) on the throne. The confusion allows Caesar's few soldiers to hold the palace and keep Pothinus a prisoner for months. Adding to the fun are Apollodorus, a Sicilian merchant to the queen (Stewart Granger, costumed like a sword 'n' sandal hero), and Caesar's faithful "sidekick" general, Rufio (Basil Sydney).

Shaw's expanded play indulges an almost slapstick feel in some scenes, as when Cleopatra hides in a carpet to smuggle herself to Caesar's battle lines at the Pharos lighthouse. The author gets in some choice digs at conquerors when the legendary Library of Alexandria goes up in flames: Caesar allows the old scholar Theodotus (Ernest Thesiger, as fruity as ever) to fight the fire, but only because doing so fits into his battle strategy.

The relationship between Cleopatra and Caesar begins in a comedic vein but soon becomes more complex. Cleo looks upon Caesar as an infallible guardian yet is determined to assert her newfound authority as Queen. She threatens the lives of her slaves, ignoring Caesar's teachings to the contrary; he enjoys the loyalty of all yet threatens nobody directly. The relationship finally turns on Cleopatra's pride, when she commands her personal handmaiden Ftatateeta (Flora Robson, magnificently savage) to murder a man who has called the Queen a liar. Cleopatra doesn't realize that this act will destabilize all that Caesar has worked to achieve. Only the Roman's customary brilliance saves them all from death at the hands of a mob.

Openly playing with familiar historical facts, Shaw dutifully returns Caesar to his fate in Rome (which he seems to fully predict) and opens the door for the return of the next man in the short life of the Egyptian queen, Mark Antony. Sometimes verging on farce, Caesar and Cleopatra has an uncommonly witty perspective on those who presume to rule over their fellows. Ftatateeta is Shaw's spokesperson on this point: she considers herself suitable to lead not because she's so smart, but because everyone else is so stupid.

Vivien Leigh skips, dances and slinks her way through this eccentric epic. Her royal costumes are dazzling, even when she can't maintain the pageantry and reverts to adolescent silliness. Claude Rains is equally fascinating as a leader who responds to imminent disaster as just another opportunity for a brilliant strategic maneuver. When Cleo fails to heed his advice, he delivers a stern rebuke, a defense of his personal leadership style that could profit any of us. Shaw encourages us to think about the ideas within his entertainments -- behind the sarcastic wit is a teacher of moral lessons.

Wartime problems and unavoidable delays inflated Caesar and Cleopatra's budget, and the film's cool reception put a damper on Gabriel Pascal's career. He would collaborate with the aged George Bernard Shaw only once more, and under diminished circumstances. 1952's Androcles and the Lion was made in Hollywood at RKO on a tight budget, with Shaw's 1912 play adapted and directed by Chester Erskine (producer of The Wonderful Country). The play's deeper critique of Christian principles was pared away and more slapstick added, making Androcles less faithful to its source but still a bright entertainment. It was once a staple on television, where children could ignore what was left of Shaw's satire and laugh themselves silly. In the film's mirthful arena scene, Androcles (Alan Young of The Time Machine) waltzes with the lion that just a moment before was preparing to devour him.

When the Romans round up Christians to serve as an intermission amusement at the Emperor's circus, the milquetoast Androcles takes the opportunity to try to escape his nagging wife Megaera (Elsa Lanchester). After his legendary thorn-removing appointment with a lion, Androcles is captured and marched to Rome with other semi-willing martyrs. Chief among them is the gorgeous Lavinia (Jean Simmons, trying out the toga she'd use eight years later in Spartacus. Lavinia catches the eye of a handsome Roman Captain (Victor Mature). The former warrior and now reborn Christian Ferrovius (Robert Newton, gaily hamming it up) has forsworn violence, and cannot be tempted into fighting by the Roman guards.

Shaw's play is still a charming diversion, even in this condensed, somewhat disordered form. Gene Lockhart, Alan Mowbray, John Hoyt and Jim Backus approach their comic roles with varying success, but apparently nobody told Victor Mature that he was filming a comedy. Although quite striking, Mature is just as serious as he is in the next year's The Robe. The various gags and character bits are quite funny, especially Robert Newton's attempts to restrain his natural urge to slaughter. Sent into the arena, Ferrovius swears that he'll use his courage to die a noble martyr's death, but we all know that's not going to happen. As Caesar, Maurice Evans (Planet of the Apes) provides some jolly comments on the frustration of being an absolute dictator, changing his mind about who will and who won't become a show-time snack for the hungry cats. The magic comes full circle when Androcles has his surprise reunion with his furry friend -- neither the visible tethers on the real lion nor an obvious lion costume diminish the fun. I've seen kids jump for joy at this finish, applauding; never was an Aesop's Fable adapted so amiably.

All three titles in Eclipse's George Bernard Shaw on Film set are in fine shape, with clean film transfers. The Technicolor-sourced Caesar and Cleopatra is rich and vibrant in nighttime scenes and sometimes a little light during day exteriors, but not by much. Clear audio tracks showcase Shaw's rich dialogue as voiced by so many fine actors. The three films also sport excellent scores by famed composers: William Walton, Georges Auric and Frederick Hollander. Bruce Eder provides concise and informative liner notes.

For more information about George Bernard Shaw on Film, visit Eclipse. To order George Bernard Shaw on Film, go to TCM Shopping.

by Glenn Erickson

George Bernard Shaw on Film: Eclipse Series 20

Two months into 2010, the most interesting DVD release of the year so far is Eclipse's George Bernard Shaw on Film, a three-picture disc set based on plays by the extremely individualistic Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw. Gabriel Pascal directed two and produced all three. The story goes that Shaw rebuffed big studio offers but allied with Pascal based upon the young man's persistence. Their most famous adaptation by far is the glowingly successful 1938 classic Pygmalion with Wendy Hiller and Leslie Howard. Cast with talented stars and humming with Bernard Shaw's precise and witty dialogue, all three of these pictures are great entertainment. Shaw is renowned for turning his plays into freewheeling social debates, and 1941's Major Barbara examines the nature of organized charity, satirizing its effect on a very imperfect London. Fresh from Pygmalion, Wendy Hiller has a standout role as the highly motivated and charismatic Salvation Army Major Barbara Britomart. Barbara finds an acolyte and husband in Adophus Cusins, a penniless scholar of Greek surprised to discover that Barbara comes from a wealthy family. The play's conflict and much of its humor are provided by Barbara's estranged father Andrew (a hilarious Robert Morley). He's a big wheel in the munitions game -- a highly profitable business in conflict with Barbara's Christian philosophy. The fun comes when the "devilish" Andrew sets out to prove to his daughter that money, not morality, is the key to human happiness. Barbara must resist temptation while simultaneously winning the soul of Bill Walker (Robert Newton), a belligerent Cockney ne'er-do-well who fights tooth and nail to avoid enlistment in the Salvation Army's legion of believers. In for extra fun is the very young Deborah Kerr, in her first film role. Bernard Shaw adapted Major Barbara personally, and although the text has been shortened his characteristic complexities are untouched. The play takes several unpredictable turns, foiling attempts to predict the direction Shaw's impish "debate" will take. Just when we expect Barbara to triumph, surprises follow at the rate of one every three minutes. After throwing our preconceptions about charity, progress and happiness into a spin, Shaw endorses a radical new kind of humanist "faith": instead of winning souls by feeding the hungry, Barbara should first work for an equitable society and bring faith to the masses afterwards. We're told that Major Barbara was filmed as bombs fell during the London Blitz. It's still a filmed play but director Pascal and his topnotch art directors Vincent Korda and John Bryan see to it that the visuals are stunning. The Salvation Army Mission is in a run-down lot near the docks and Andrew Underschaft's massive armaments factory / worker's city of the future is like something out of Things to Come. But the colorful characters are what we cherish, from Rex Harrison's likeable scholar to the Mission's "saved" freeloaders. They invent disadvantaged backgrounds so that, when they find God, the charity workers can feel more accomplished. The mischievous wink of author Shaw is evident in every scene: when Barbara suddenly feels the bitterness of disillusion, Bill Walker is right there to twist the knife: "What price salvation now, sister?" 1945's Caesar and Cleopatra is Gabriel Pascal's massive attempt to trump the Yankees in the Technicolor epic stakes. Despite its commercial failure it now plays as an intelligent, funny and charming antidote to overblown and pompous Hollywood treatments of similar material. George Bernard Shaw's 1898 play has been opened up with massive sets and location filming -- in Egypt, before the finish of the war -- but retains Shaw's refreshingly cynical views on political and military power. Although one of the main characters is Brittanus (Cecil Parker), an opinionated Celtic advisor from a certain backward isle to the West, Shaw's agenda includes a sly comparison of Rome's corrupt empire and that of modern England. The cast is ideal. Claude Rains has one of his best roles ever as Julius Caesar, a clever conqueror who befriends his enemies and conceals his moral convictions behind a cynical front. Vivien Leigh, perhaps the most in-demand actress of the time, plays Cleopatra as a teenaged contradiction, alternating between childish antics and destructive willfulness. Cleopatra meets Caesar under a sphinx at night and is immediately captivated by the Roman's playfulness, wisdom and natural authority. She allows Caesar to occupy part of Alexandria while Egypt's leaders (including Francis L. Sullivan's imposing Pothinus) scheme to put Cleo's brother Ptolemy (Anthony Harvey) on the throne. The confusion allows Caesar's few soldiers to hold the palace and keep Pothinus a prisoner for months. Adding to the fun are Apollodorus, a Sicilian merchant to the queen (Stewart Granger, costumed like a sword 'n' sandal hero), and Caesar's faithful "sidekick" general, Rufio (Basil Sydney). Shaw's expanded play indulges an almost slapstick feel in some scenes, as when Cleopatra hides in a carpet to smuggle herself to Caesar's battle lines at the Pharos lighthouse. The author gets in some choice digs at conquerors when the legendary Library of Alexandria goes up in flames: Caesar allows the old scholar Theodotus (Ernest Thesiger, as fruity as ever) to fight the fire, but only because doing so fits into his battle strategy. The relationship between Cleopatra and Caesar begins in a comedic vein but soon becomes more complex. Cleo looks upon Caesar as an infallible guardian yet is determined to assert her newfound authority as Queen. She threatens the lives of her slaves, ignoring Caesar's teachings to the contrary; he enjoys the loyalty of all yet threatens nobody directly. The relationship finally turns on Cleopatra's pride, when she commands her personal handmaiden Ftatateeta (Flora Robson, magnificently savage) to murder a man who has called the Queen a liar. Cleopatra doesn't realize that this act will destabilize all that Caesar has worked to achieve. Only the Roman's customary brilliance saves them all from death at the hands of a mob. Openly playing with familiar historical facts, Shaw dutifully returns Caesar to his fate in Rome (which he seems to fully predict) and opens the door for the return of the next man in the short life of the Egyptian queen, Mark Antony. Sometimes verging on farce, Caesar and Cleopatra has an uncommonly witty perspective on those who presume to rule over their fellows. Ftatateeta is Shaw's spokesperson on this point: she considers herself suitable to lead not because she's so smart, but because everyone else is so stupid. Vivien Leigh skips, dances and slinks her way through this eccentric epic. Her royal costumes are dazzling, even when she can't maintain the pageantry and reverts to adolescent silliness. Claude Rains is equally fascinating as a leader who responds to imminent disaster as just another opportunity for a brilliant strategic maneuver. When Cleo fails to heed his advice, he delivers a stern rebuke, a defense of his personal leadership style that could profit any of us. Shaw encourages us to think about the ideas within his entertainments -- behind the sarcastic wit is a teacher of moral lessons. Wartime problems and unavoidable delays inflated Caesar and Cleopatra's budget, and the film's cool reception put a damper on Gabriel Pascal's career. He would collaborate with the aged George Bernard Shaw only once more, and under diminished circumstances. 1952's Androcles and the Lion was made in Hollywood at RKO on a tight budget, with Shaw's 1912 play adapted and directed by Chester Erskine (producer of The Wonderful Country). The play's deeper critique of Christian principles was pared away and more slapstick added, making Androcles less faithful to its source but still a bright entertainment. It was once a staple on television, where children could ignore what was left of Shaw's satire and laugh themselves silly. In the film's mirthful arena scene, Androcles (Alan Young of The Time Machine) waltzes with the lion that just a moment before was preparing to devour him. When the Romans round up Christians to serve as an intermission amusement at the Emperor's circus, the milquetoast Androcles takes the opportunity to try to escape his nagging wife Megaera (Elsa Lanchester). After his legendary thorn-removing appointment with a lion, Androcles is captured and marched to Rome with other semi-willing martyrs. Chief among them is the gorgeous Lavinia (Jean Simmons, trying out the toga she'd use eight years later in Spartacus. Lavinia catches the eye of a handsome Roman Captain (Victor Mature). The former warrior and now reborn Christian Ferrovius (Robert Newton, gaily hamming it up) has forsworn violence, and cannot be tempted into fighting by the Roman guards. Shaw's play is still a charming diversion, even in this condensed, somewhat disordered form. Gene Lockhart, Alan Mowbray, John Hoyt and Jim Backus approach their comic roles with varying success, but apparently nobody told Victor Mature that he was filming a comedy. Although quite striking, Mature is just as serious as he is in the next year's The Robe. The various gags and character bits are quite funny, especially Robert Newton's attempts to restrain his natural urge to slaughter. Sent into the arena, Ferrovius swears that he'll use his courage to die a noble martyr's death, but we all know that's not going to happen. As Caesar, Maurice Evans (Planet of the Apes) provides some jolly comments on the frustration of being an absolute dictator, changing his mind about who will and who won't become a show-time snack for the hungry cats. The magic comes full circle when Androcles has his surprise reunion with his furry friend -- neither the visible tethers on the real lion nor an obvious lion costume diminish the fun. I've seen kids jump for joy at this finish, applauding; never was an Aesop's Fable adapted so amiably. All three titles in Eclipse's George Bernard Shaw on Film set are in fine shape, with clean film transfers. The Technicolor-sourced Caesar and Cleopatra is rich and vibrant in nighttime scenes and sometimes a little light during day exteriors, but not by much. Clear audio tracks showcase Shaw's rich dialogue as voiced by so many fine actors. The three films also sport excellent scores by famed composers: William Walton, Georges Auric and Frederick Hollander. Bruce Eder provides concise and informative liner notes. For more information about George Bernard Shaw on Film, visit Eclipse. To order George Bernard Shaw on Film, go to TCM Shopping. by Glenn Erickson

Wendy Hiller, 1912-2003


Dame Wendy Hiller, one of Britain's most distinguished actresses of screen and stage and whose career highlights include being George Bernard Shaw's favorite leading lady, and an Oscar winner for her performance as a lonely spinster in Separate Tables (1958), died at her home in Beaconsfield, England, on May 14. She was 90.

Wendy Hiller was born on August 15, 1912, in Bramhall, and raised in Manchester, where her father was a cotton-cloth manufacturer. Educated at Winceby House, a girl's school in Sussex, Hiller found herself drawn to the theater, and after completing secondary school, Wendy joined the Manchester Repertory Theater, where she was a bit player and later an assistant stage manager. In 1934, she earned critical acclaim and stardom when Manchester Rep cast her as the lead in the popular drama, Love on the Dole, written by her future husband, Ronald Gow. The play was such a hit, that Hiller would repeat her role in London and triumphed on Broadway.

Back on the London stage, she was playing the lead in George Bernard Shaw's St. Joan, when she caught the eye of the playwright himself. He cast her as the beloved cockney flower girl Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion (contemporary audiences will no doubt be aware of the musical version - My Fair Lady) on stage in 1936 and in Anthony Asquith's screen adaptation two years later co-starring Leslie Howard. The film was a smash, and Hiller earned an Academy Award nomination for her striking and original Eliza. Shaw would cast her again as an heiress turned Salvation Army worker in the classic Major Barbara for both stage and the 1941 film version.

The ensuing years could very well have been Hiller's time for screen stardom, yet despite her blazing acting ability, regal presence and distinctive voice, her film forays were too few, as she concentrated on the stage and spending time with her husband Gow and two children. Still, when she did make a film appearance, it was often memorable: a materialist turned romantic in Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's glorious, I Know Where I'm Going! (1945); a lonely hotelkeeper in Delbert Mann's Separate Tables (1958), which earned her an Academy Award as best supporting actress; an obsessive mother in Jack Cardiff's Sons and Lovers (1960); a unfaltering wife to Sir Thomas More in Fred Zinneman's brilliant A Man for All Seasons (1966); and as a compassionate nurse who cares for the deformed David Merrick in David Lynch's The Elephant Man (1980).

Ill health became an issue for Hiller in her later years, but she made one elegant return to the camera when she was cast as a former society beauty who is interviewed 50 years after her fame in Moira Armstrong's The Countess Alice (1992). In a performance that was touching, but never maudlin, Wendy Hiller proved that few could match her for presence, integrity and dignity. Her contribution to her craft did not go unnoticed, as she was made a Dame of the British Empire in 1975. She is survived by her son, Anthony, and daughter, Ann.

by Michael T. Toole

Wendy Hiller, 1912-2003

Dame Wendy Hiller, one of Britain's most distinguished actresses of screen and stage and whose career highlights include being George Bernard Shaw's favorite leading lady, and an Oscar winner for her performance as a lonely spinster in Separate Tables (1958), died at her home in Beaconsfield, England, on May 14. She was 90. Wendy Hiller was born on August 15, 1912, in Bramhall, and raised in Manchester, where her father was a cotton-cloth manufacturer. Educated at Winceby House, a girl's school in Sussex, Hiller found herself drawn to the theater, and after completing secondary school, Wendy joined the Manchester Repertory Theater, where she was a bit player and later an assistant stage manager. In 1934, she earned critical acclaim and stardom when Manchester Rep cast her as the lead in the popular drama, Love on the Dole, written by her future husband, Ronald Gow. The play was such a hit, that Hiller would repeat her role in London and triumphed on Broadway. Back on the London stage, she was playing the lead in George Bernard Shaw's St. Joan, when she caught the eye of the playwright himself. He cast her as the beloved cockney flower girl Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion (contemporary audiences will no doubt be aware of the musical version - My Fair Lady) on stage in 1936 and in Anthony Asquith's screen adaptation two years later co-starring Leslie Howard. The film was a smash, and Hiller earned an Academy Award nomination for her striking and original Eliza. Shaw would cast her again as an heiress turned Salvation Army worker in the classic Major Barbara for both stage and the 1941 film version. The ensuing years could very well have been Hiller's time for screen stardom, yet despite her blazing acting ability, regal presence and distinctive voice, her film forays were too few, as she concentrated on the stage and spending time with her husband Gow and two children. Still, when she did make a film appearance, it was often memorable: a materialist turned romantic in Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's glorious, I Know Where I'm Going! (1945); a lonely hotelkeeper in Delbert Mann's Separate Tables (1958), which earned her an Academy Award as best supporting actress; an obsessive mother in Jack Cardiff's Sons and Lovers (1960); a unfaltering wife to Sir Thomas More in Fred Zinneman's brilliant A Man for All Seasons (1966); and as a compassionate nurse who cares for the deformed David Merrick in David Lynch's The Elephant Man (1980). Ill health became an issue for Hiller in her later years, but she made one elegant return to the camera when she was cast as a former society beauty who is interviewed 50 years after her fame in Moira Armstrong's The Countess Alice (1992). In a performance that was touching, but never maudlin, Wendy Hiller proved that few could match her for presence, integrity and dignity. Her contribution to her craft did not go unnoticed, as she was made a Dame of the British Empire in 1975. She is survived by her son, Anthony, and daughter, Ann. by Michael T. Toole

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This is Deborah Kerr's first movie.