The Oscars come in for a fair bit of flack, particularly when they are deemed to have favoured safe, populist pictures and neglected films that were unconventional and ahead of their time. But say what you like about the academy; a list of Best Picture winners gives you a better indication than any other what movies caught the mood of the times and what Hollywood aspired to in any given era.
The above is especially true in the 1940s, when society and cinema were changing fast – mostly due to the war. Mrs Miniver was released about six months after the US joined the conflict. For most Americans the war was an increasingly real and scary prospect, yet the full horror and scale of it had not yet hit home. Mrs Miniver was a perfect propaganda story for these times, because rather than panicking the audience with grim realities it optimistically presents the war as an inconvenience to be endured, and even as a suburban adventure.
The picture benefits from some very strong storytelling, the screenwriters taking the time to establish the characters and their relationships before the outbreak of war. This shows us what normality is for these people before it is disrupted, as well giving the various story arcs a more satisfying payoff at the end. Unfortunately the characters themselves are stereotypes – of course all to the purpose of the picture's nature as propaganda, but a little grating today.
Luckily, the director is William Wyler, not only a brilliant craftsman of cinema but someone who could bring the best out of drama because he focused so much on the performers. He brings Greer Garson's face to our attention right from the off, and she is rarely off screen from that point on. Although Wyler's style is generally quite understated and unobtrusive, he could still pull some pretty nifty tricks to get the right faces in the frame at any given time. A particularly neat moment is when Henry Travers shows Garson the Miniver rose. As she leans towards the flower, she obscures Travers' face, but the camera moves with her and we now see Travers reflected in a mirror. It's important that we see her movement – it shows her genuine interest – but we also need to see his reaction, and his sudden appearance in the mirror brings it to our attention.
The upshot of Wyler's actor-centred direction is that he tended to coax some excellent performances from his cast. Garson is under a lot of pressure, bring at the centre of the movie, but she pulls it off superbly. Theresa Wright is of course very good too, but nicest of all are the deep performances where you don't expect them. Henry Travers and Dame May Witty are essentially character actors brought in to tick a few boxes, but here both are at their best and they actually manage to give some credibility to their two-note roles. And Henry Wilcoxon, normally a rather bland fixture of Cecil B. DeMille epics, is flawless as the vicar and gives such heartfelt delivery on his final speech that it was apparently broadcast on Voice of America.
These touches of quality aside, and while Mrs Miniver was surely a moving and effective propaganda piece in its time, we don't live in 1942 and we have to judge it upon how it looks today. Hollywood's distance from England and the war is noticeable, and the overall tone seems almost disrespectfully cheerful. Several moments just look a bit silly – for example a dogfight taking place at forty feet, and what I call "the talking boat scene" (you'll know it when you see it). A truer and deeper picture of the home front was painted in British-made features such as In Which we Serve. And it's not the lack of combat and action that brings Mrs Miniver down – after all look how effectively the post-combat drama Best Years of Our Lives conveys the impact of war with no action whatsoever. It's simply that Mrs Miniver pulls too many punches, is too soft and too light. And yet, at the time, what else could it be?
The above is especially true in the 1940s, when society and cinema were changing fast – mostly due to the war. Mrs Miniver was released about six months after the US joined the conflict. For most Americans the war was an increasingly real and scary prospect, yet the full horror and scale of it had not yet hit home. Mrs Miniver was a perfect propaganda story for these times, because rather than panicking the audience with grim realities it optimistically presents the war as an inconvenience to be endured, and even as a suburban adventure.
The picture benefits from some very strong storytelling, the screenwriters taking the time to establish the characters and their relationships before the outbreak of war. This shows us what normality is for these people before it is disrupted, as well giving the various story arcs a more satisfying payoff at the end. Unfortunately the characters themselves are stereotypes – of course all to the purpose of the picture's nature as propaganda, but a little grating today.
Luckily, the director is William Wyler, not only a brilliant craftsman of cinema but someone who could bring the best out of drama because he focused so much on the performers. He brings Greer Garson's face to our attention right from the off, and she is rarely off screen from that point on. Although Wyler's style is generally quite understated and unobtrusive, he could still pull some pretty nifty tricks to get the right faces in the frame at any given time. A particularly neat moment is when Henry Travers shows Garson the Miniver rose. As she leans towards the flower, she obscures Travers' face, but the camera moves with her and we now see Travers reflected in a mirror. It's important that we see her movement – it shows her genuine interest – but we also need to see his reaction, and his sudden appearance in the mirror brings it to our attention.
The upshot of Wyler's actor-centred direction is that he tended to coax some excellent performances from his cast. Garson is under a lot of pressure, bring at the centre of the movie, but she pulls it off superbly. Theresa Wright is of course very good too, but nicest of all are the deep performances where you don't expect them. Henry Travers and Dame May Witty are essentially character actors brought in to tick a few boxes, but here both are at their best and they actually manage to give some credibility to their two-note roles. And Henry Wilcoxon, normally a rather bland fixture of Cecil B. DeMille epics, is flawless as the vicar and gives such heartfelt delivery on his final speech that it was apparently broadcast on Voice of America.
These touches of quality aside, and while Mrs Miniver was surely a moving and effective propaganda piece in its time, we don't live in 1942 and we have to judge it upon how it looks today. Hollywood's distance from England and the war is noticeable, and the overall tone seems almost disrespectfully cheerful. Several moments just look a bit silly – for example a dogfight taking place at forty feet, and what I call "the talking boat scene" (you'll know it when you see it). A truer and deeper picture of the home front was painted in British-made features such as In Which we Serve. And it's not the lack of combat and action that brings Mrs Miniver down – after all look how effectively the post-combat drama Best Years of Our Lives conveys the impact of war with no action whatsoever. It's simply that Mrs Miniver pulls too many punches, is too soft and too light. And yet, at the time, what else could it be?