I have read the book by Louis Bromfield, maybe 20 years ago. I do not remember the plot in detail but I remember the feeling of the book, and how I wrote down some paragraphs because I liked them so much. That I bought the book was inevitable once I saw it in a second hand book store because it combined two passions I had then: novels set in British India, and novels published by Penguin in a particular design. (This naturally means I also have plenty of novels by John Masters.)
But the film and the book are two different things and I am not interested in comparing them. This is about the film, adapted by Philip Dunne and Julien Josephson. It is set in (fictional) Ranchipur in India in 1938. The main characters are Tom Ransome, a cynical British/American painter, brandy-drinker and womaniser, primarily rotting away; Major Rama Safti, an Indian doctor who is the protégé of the Maharajah, and a close friend of Ransome; and Edwina Esketh, a rich, spoiled, married American woman. She suddenly appears with her husband, and while she is married, she tries to re-enact her previous affair with Ransome, until she falls in love with Safti. There are several other characters: a young woman who falls in love with Ransome; the Maharajah and the Maharani; Edwina Esketh's boorish husband and his man servant; a friendly married couple who live close to Ransome. But Ransome, Esketh and Safti is the main trio. And it is a great cast. George Brent plays Ransome, Myrna Loy plays Esketh, Tyrone Power plays Safti. The latter is of course a sensitive issue, as Power is not Indian but is wearing makeup to look like he is. But it is a fine, dignified performance and the character is unequivocally the hero of the story. Brent is perfect as Ransome, a man with a constant bemused detachment towards everything and everybody, and Loy is exquisite and strangely believable. Here she does romance, wise-cracks, anomie, and spiritual awakening with equal conviction.
Among the side characters, Nigel Bruce plays Edwina's husband, Jane Darwell and Henry Travers play the friendly neighbours (that is a lovely pair) and Maria Ouspenskaya plays the Maharani, in a magnificent performance. She is wise, witty, penetrating, old, tired and ruthless, and all this in an old, tiny, frail body.
The film at first seems to be about the social lives of the spoiled classes. But halfway through comes the disaster. The rain season begins, which everybody has been waiting for, but then an earthquake ruins the city and makes a huge dam collapse. Ranchipur is completely flooded and the rains are no longer welcome. The flooding leads to a cholera outbreak, an epidemic. This is when a major theme of the story suddenly emerges: how flawed characters can be redeemed in times of absolute crisis and despair. In this catastrophe there are no villains and cowards, but two kinds of characters. Those that die and those that step up and shoulder the new responsibilities. There is something particularly poignant about that message in our current moment of crisis and despair.
Besides the cast, the main attraction of the film is the way it looks, which is absolutely spectacular. The cinematography by Arthur Miller is filled with so much texture, patterns and beauty. Sometimes it feels like every drop of water has been lit individually. The set design is equally remarkable. The houses, the gardens, the city, the dam, the palace, all of it meticulous and imaginative. This is a piece of India that looks simultaneously completely fake and completely authentic. Few films of the Hollywood studio era look as exceptional as The Rains Came.
The weak part of the film is Brenda Joyce as Fern Simon, the young woman who falls in love with Ransome. Both the character and her acting are close to intolerable. The other weak spot is that there are several scenes when a character holds a monologue, which almost feels like a sermon. Several of the main characters have such scenes, but it is only the Maharani, or Maria Ouspenskaya, who makes if feel natural and genuine. Once when Ransome gives such a sermon, Lady Esketh makes fun of him, and I wish Clarence Brown had been as sceptical about those moment as she was.
And where is Brown, the director, in all of this? The technical accomplishments are not his responsibilities, and Arthur Miller is one of the best cinematographers; capable of greatness and a particular look regardless of who was the director. The editor Barbara McLean should also be mentioned. And The Rains Came is in many ways a quintessential Darryl F. Zanuck production, including the expensive production qualities. But the acting, the inventiveness of scenes of romance (the first, long, sequence with Ransome and Lady Esketh is wonderful and perfect) and death, and the fluid camera movements, are among the things we can attribute to Brown. This theme of pride and sacrifice, of noble deaths and a spiritual take on suffering, and a strong emphasis on local atmosphere, are things that recur in his oeuvre. But I need to watch more of his work before I say anything more. (Of what I have seen, Intruder in the Dust (1949) is the best, and I wrote about it here before.)
What remains the most memorable thing in the film though is the introduction of Myrna Loy and her character. She has her back towards us, and then Brown has her turn her head into a closeup of her face. And what a turn and what a closeup it is.
Besides the cast, the main attraction of the film is the way it looks, which is absolutely spectacular. The cinematography by Arthur Miller is filled with so much texture, patterns and beauty. Sometimes it feels like every drop of water has been lit individually. The set design is equally remarkable. The houses, the gardens, the city, the dam, the palace, all of it meticulous and imaginative. This is a piece of India that looks simultaneously completely fake and completely authentic. Few films of the Hollywood studio era look as exceptional as The Rains Came.
Safti and the Maharani
The weak part of the film is Brenda Joyce as Fern Simon, the young woman who falls in love with Ransome. Both the character and her acting are close to intolerable. The other weak spot is that there are several scenes when a character holds a monologue, which almost feels like a sermon. Several of the main characters have such scenes, but it is only the Maharani, or Maria Ouspenskaya, who makes if feel natural and genuine. Once when Ransome gives such a sermon, Lady Esketh makes fun of him, and I wish Clarence Brown had been as sceptical about those moment as she was.
And where is Brown, the director, in all of this? The technical accomplishments are not his responsibilities, and Arthur Miller is one of the best cinematographers; capable of greatness and a particular look regardless of who was the director. The editor Barbara McLean should also be mentioned. And The Rains Came is in many ways a quintessential Darryl F. Zanuck production, including the expensive production qualities. But the acting, the inventiveness of scenes of romance (the first, long, sequence with Ransome and Lady Esketh is wonderful and perfect) and death, and the fluid camera movements, are among the things we can attribute to Brown. This theme of pride and sacrifice, of noble deaths and a spiritual take on suffering, and a strong emphasis on local atmosphere, are things that recur in his oeuvre. But I need to watch more of his work before I say anything more. (Of what I have seen, Intruder in the Dust (1949) is the best, and I wrote about it here before.)
What remains the most memorable thing in the film though is the introduction of Myrna Loy and her character. She has her back towards us, and then Brown has her turn her head into a closeup of her face. And what a turn and what a closeup it is.
Before their world collapsed
-------------------------------------
Conventionally, this post would be up next Friday but these are not conventional times. In times of lock-down and social distancing I might as well write and post as the mood strikes me.
