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THE BROWNING VERSION

When I watch Michael Redgrave act, I think to myself: there is no need to talk. Just keep acting cold and remote and inpenetrable but with a wounded heart deep below the surface, break down and cry and try to hold back the tears and show the world this part of you but only do it occasionally.

Actually, this could apply to anyone in general but especially to me and you. Even if it is us on the screen, and Michael Redgrave on the couch, saying YES YES when a tear comes to his eye but he does not hide it–he prefers to just keep watching us, even though he thinks it’s him he's watching and we think it’s us.
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Anonymous said…
You rather lost me in your second paragraph, but I liked your remark about Crocker-Harris's "wounded heart deep below the surface".

Actually, I'm not so sure that Crocker-Harris's personal hurt is so deeply buried beneath his impassive surface. Whatever the case, the original film of the Browning Version is the most moving that I have ever seen. Rattigan's screenplay is absolutely flawless (with lines worthy of Shakespeare, and staggering control of dramatic structure and tempo) and Michael Redgrave gives here the performance of a lifetime (powerfully supported by the other principals).
7:17 AM
Ricky Garni said…
You're right, I think, Anon. It's not so deeply buried. But I think that the finesse of his skill is that he is able to betray his feelings in such a way as to suggest that we are the only ones who know how he really feels. It is an illusion, I think, of a submerged feeling, and one that really isn't at all.
5:30 AM
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