The Children's Hour: A Poignant Film, A Pivotal Moment in Women's History

               "Like, I don't want to be a traitor to my generation and all" (Cher Horowitz anyone?), but the 60s were just better. I'm sorry 2000s, but you're just not daring enough for me. Sure, you'll go there when it comes to portraying sex or violence on screen, but you're not prepared to plumb the emotional depths of stuff that is real. It's not only that the world cared more, said more and did more in the sixties, it's that they were unafraid to investigate with real openness topics that were taboo. One need only look at the innovation and heartrending reality displayed in films like 'Easy Rider' and 'Bonnie and Clyde." These late 60s films were as concerned with sharing a message about the state of affairs in America and openly criticizing the hypocrisy of the status quo as they were with ticket sales and box office.

          Even in the early 60s, a time when America still struggled to free itself from the lingering grasp of 1950s hyper-conservativism, films introduced groundbreaking material in movies that forced a long overdue psychological growth in American audiences. One of those films was the much heralded "The Children's Hour" from 1962. Still a product of the previous generation, this film is all smooth lines, clean language and promotion of conventional mores (in certain respects), but it puts the topic of lesbianism front and center, an extremely controversial subject for its time (and now). This film is beautifully done yes, but the cleanness of its setting, a small girls school in conservative upper-class town, and the beauty of its stars, the incomparable Audrey Hepburn and the always engaging Shirley McClaine, are all there to showcase the ugly destructiveness of bigotry in our lives. That is the overarching message; lesbianism is simply the vehicle with which to bring this intention about.

Before you get all excited that there's a lesbian film with Audrey Hepburn and Shirley McClaine, you should hold your horses. This isn't "Blue is the Warmest Color." They're not lesbians. Their characters are just as glib on the topic as the community in which they live. They are friends, best friends. They've known each other since college and live together as
the co-owners of the Wright-Dobie school, a prominent institution in their small, upper-class community. Neither is married, but Karen, Audrey's character, does have a doctor fiance that is excited to finally walk down the aisle with her at long last. He's played by James Garner who, to be honest, I've never had much to do with, but he looks nice and gives an aghast expression at the right moments so I guess he does well here.

Martha, McClaine's character, is alone, but doesn't seem to be sweating that fact as much as her over-the-hill aunt does. Miriam Hopkins plays Aunt Mortar, the school's drama coach and resident ding-bat. She's adequate as a Norma Desmond drama queen with shades of Annie's Miss Hannigan. One expects a moth to fly out of her flea-bitten fox stole any minute. Everyone is happy with their situation until an ugly (I'm sorry, but this little actress is very ugly) little girl spreads a rumor about Ms. Dobie and Ms. Wright that threatens not only the women's livelihood, but also the sanctity of their very lives. The rumor spreads quickly (some might say unrealistically so) through the town and causes undue destruction to their reputations. The women fight against this happening in court and in their personal lives, the resulting impact brings the women and the entire town to an unexpected place.

The film is a remake of an earlier film adaption of a famed stage play by the indomitable Lillian Hellman. The play, written and performed in the twenties, dealt even more openly with the subject of lesbianism than does this film which isn't surprising. Though the restlessness of the 60s demanded new ideas be presented to the public in media, the anxiousness of the 50s prevented this film from addressing it in a straightforward way. 

William Wyler, the director of this and the 1930s film version
, chooses to soften the controversy of its subject  by casting flawless actresses and shooting the film as a classic high-level drama. Emotions run high, but hairs do not come out of place. Her mind may be disturbed, but there is never a wrinkle on Audrey's gown. And of course the word 'lesbian' is never uttered. Whenever its left to the actors to describe the alleged activity between Ms. Dobie and Ms. Wright, euphemisms so innocuous are used that at times it feels like parents explaining sex to an 11-year-old. The only time that what they are accused of is spelled out is when, tired of the diverting language, Garner's character forces Karen to tell him what everyone is so upset over. She looks up at him, doe eyes wide with almost child-like amazement, and says "They think that Martha and I are lovers." This line provides the characters as well as the audience with a much needed release. Wyler designed it so that all of the tension gathers from the moment the little girl speaks to her grandmother, until now. The tension builds again from this moment until the most lauded scene of the movie when Martha confesses.

In the climax, Martha confesses to Karen in a long, breathless stammering soliloquy that is at once heart breaking and cathartic. "I have loved you the way they said!" These words leave her with a rush of energy like that of water bursting from a fireman's hose. Deep, heartfelt and violently honest, In this scene she embodies the tortuous responsibility we all have to admit to ourselves the terrible truth of who we are.

Besides Barbara Stanwyck, there is no actress that I adore more than Audrey Hepburn. Her many graces, talents and virtues have been discussed at length for decades so I won't extol them here. She impresses me in this film not only with the stoic gravity of her performance, but with her ability to consciously take a step back and give McClaine the center of attention. Recognizing that the demands as an actress for Shirley are far greater than what is asked of her, she gives McClaine the room that she needs to climb to the emotional heights required of her role.

The venerable Fay Bainter plays the little girl's grandmother, the one who initially believes the rumor and spreads it through town. Old, stodgy and feigning virtues that she doesn't really have, The grandmother represents American society of the time. Sheltered by a lack of curiosity and a culturally cultivated fear of difference, she describes the two as "unnatural" and dramatically treats them as outcasts under the guise of protecting the young. Once events come to pass, she shows her humility by admitting that she was wrong. This is how America would like to think it would be; Understanding and apologetic.

But Wyler does not let her get away with her ignorance. The final scene, with Karen walking away from the town and even her fiance is a telling moment in cinema history. In the past there would be only one of two ways for this story to end for Audrey's character: death or assimilation. Karen would have to either trip and fall dead or marry James Garner and get over it. Walking away from the town, alone and strong,visually legitimized a whole new choice for women in film and in society. It's not as though this is the first time this has happened in film (The Third Man shows a similar ending), but arguably it is the first time in American cinema that such an iconic actress is used to make such a subversive point. I don't have to accept the way things are, she seems to say, I can go it alone and create a new reality. And that's what women did during the 60s and the 70s. Created new paths by refusing to accept the old ones.

In January of 2011 a theater revival of The Children's Hour staring Keira Knightley and Elizabeth Moss came on the Comedy Theater of London to excellent reviews. It's a testament to the far reaching impact of this story that artists are still choosing to tell it. This film no doubt holds back much more than this modern interpretation does, but  in either respect the message is clear: love is a dynamite, but hatred is the flame that lights it
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The Bad Seed: Rhoda is the Blonde BADShell!!

Why do killers kill? If that's the topic of any day time talk show, you better believe that we are all tuning in! Well if you want a crash course from a cinematic source, check out 1956's "The Bad Seed."This black and white horror/suspense film makes heavy use of Freudian psychosis theory to explain the exploits of a murderous little 8-year-old girl. Not quite Hitchcockian, but still highly watchable and unique, the film delivers a fun, engaging study into the beginnings of a serial killer!

Rhoda, the bad seed of the title, appears as a sweet, pretty and exceedingly feminine young lady who has practically everyone in the small duplex she lives in with her mother at her feet. The mother, Christine, is the perfect 1950s housewife, full with beauty, civility and a moneyed background. The trouble starts when Rhoda loses a penmanship award at school.  A few days later, after a school picnic, a boy in Rhoda's class is found dead in the water next to the lake that the students played beside. It was considered an accident, but an accident doesn't explain the bruises around the boy's face, neck and fingers.

Rhoda, looking crazy evil

It also doesn't explain the absence of the penmanship pen that was seen on the boy's person before the picnic. Once Christine is questioned about Rhoda's connection to the boy's death she begins looking at her darling daughter in an entirely different light.  Christine's father  introduces another piece of information that calls Christine's own origins into question and sends her spiraling into full-blown paranoia and panic. The methods that Christine resorts to to suppress  the homicidal urges of her offspring leads the film down a far darker path than expected and leads to a surprising outcome.

Movies about killer kids are always fun, but this was the original film that set the niche genre off right. Watching Rhoda carry out her devious plans with school girl glee is a guilty pleasure that just won't quit. The film is hardly feminist, but women do occupy the most interesting roles. Eileen Heckart was nominated for an Oscar for her performance as Hortense Daigle, the dead boy's drunken hysterical mother.

Eileen Heckart. TOASTED

 Her every slurring, boozing appearance in the film rightfully demands our utmost attention as she delivers a performance drenched in convincing sentiment and stinking only a little in melancholic melodrama. While Heckart's acting reaches the broad dimensions re
quired of her role, other actors color far outside the lines, creating caricatures where portraits should be.

 The greatest offender would have to be Harry Jones in the role of Leroy, the house's handy man. Lusty, deceitful and lazy, Leroy is a disturbing combination of Lenny from 'Of Mice and Men' and the racist crows from "Dumbo." Jones chooses to play him with an overabundance of slack-jawed charm that pulls his portrayal to cartoonish proportions. The bizarre choice to have Leroy speak to himself as though he's speaking to the audience, no doubt an unfortunate left-over from the play on which the film is based, makes him seem all the more ludicrous and out of plan in this streamlined, high caliber film.


Nancy Kelly as Christine

Patty McCormick as little Rhoda, was also nominated that year and rightfully so. Her understanding of the nuances required of her character was scary for an actress that young (she was nine at the time of filming). Her performance is the earliest example of the actress's natural talent and gift for role immersion. I'd say that actress Nancy Kelly also delivers a spot on performance if it were not for the screechy quality her voice takes on as the film climbs towards its climax. Seeming to equate showing terror with raising your voice to an even higher pitch, Christine seems to be communicating with owls by the end of the picture.

 Director Mervyn Leroy clearly wanted a sophisticated tone for his thriller and he succeeded in creating this with a slow dramatic pace. You'll see none of that drive-in movie gore here. Indeed of the 3 murders that occur within the film, only one of them happen in real time. The other two are described and talked about. The one that does appear on screen is not fully seen by the audience. We only have screams, some high intensity music and a few shots of running to build an image. The lack of graphic is the one choice of Mervyn Leroy's that I don't like. The movie was adapted from a play where I'm sure much of the action happened off stage. When transferring to a visual medium, it makes sense to use, well, visuals. I understand how withholding sight can sometimes be more terrifying, but the film is interested in being too refined and holds back too much to make it a legitimate horror entry. Psychological thriller maybe.

The film itself, excepting a few acting flaws, is a solid Academy quality film, but the 'horror' element seems to have eluded Leroy a little bit. Still, the direction provides a solid base on which to pile the film's many captivating moments and at time comedic miscalculations.