Waterloo Bridge (1931)
Kent Douglass
The Lady Vanishes
Waterloo Bridge (1931)
Studio: Universal • 81 min B&W • AR 1.33:1 • US: 1 Sep 1931
Re-release: Warner Bros — TCM Archives (Dec 2006)
Series: Forbidden Hollywood, Vol 1 (2-DVD)
Starring: Mae Clarke, Kent Douglass, Doris Lloyd, Enid Bennett, Bette Davis
Dir: James Whale
Myra Deauville (Mae Clarke) is a chorus girl in a big London production as the nation heads into WWI. Flash forward two years, and she has been out of work ever since, and now works the troops on leave, and other men in the night with money, to make ends meet. She happens to be on Waterloo Bridge when an air raid siren goes off indicating zeppelins above ready to drop bombs; she is rescued by a young American solider, Roy Cronin (Kent Douglass) who ushers her into a safe zone. When the coast is clear, he gallantly sees her home in a taxi. Asking him up, they share innocent chat but clearly the young soldier is smitten. He’s a handsome blond lad, from a well-healed family, having joined the British forces in Toronto, Canada and barely 19. When he offers to help her out with a few dollars for rent, Myra becomes angry and throws him out, relenting moments later. He does not know she’s a prostitute; she thinks he’s too good for her.
Over the next few days, while Roy is on a 14 day leave, he woos the pretty Myra, encountering the persistent landlady (Ethel Griffies), her next window neighbour and fellow aging lady-of-the-night, Kitty (Doris Lloyd), as well as taking her to his family’s country estate to meet “The Major” (his British step-father), his mother Mary (Enid Bennett) and his sister Janet (Bette Davis). All the while, Myra is conflicted: she is a fallen woman, and does not deserve a young man as pure and innocent and handsome and wealthy as Roy. When confronted by Roy’s mother, she confesses all; though kindly, Roy’s mother agrees her son must not marry her. When they return to town, Myra tries to disappear but the lovesick Roy finds her and prevails in his quest to have her accept his hand in marriage. Alas, though he learns the truth about her profession and still insists upon a marriage, his furlough is cut short and they part on Waterloo Bridge, where they first met. Will he survive the next round of battles? Will she survive the bombings in London?
Mae Clarke is poignant, natural, and broodingly heart-breaking throughout. Though this is a very early talkie, when acting styles still tended to silent era gestures, Clarke’s interactions capture the roller-coaster conflicts of finding a man to protect her, and dealing with the harsh realities of her everyday life. As Roy’s mother tells her, she’s basically a fine girl; alas, she is damaged goods and Clarke’s portrayal demonstrates she’ll never be able to forget that. Although not nominated for any major award during her career, Clarke’s performance here is plainly far above chorus girl standing. She had a role in The Front Page and was the (uncredited) face James Cagney immortally squished a grapefruit into in The Public Enemy; but her career – and she was extremely talented based on this film – sputtered into obscurity within next five years or so. I wondered how Norma Shearer, or Barbara Stanwyck, might have handled this same role; in wondering out loud, it makes clear the heights Clarke reached in this performance.
Her leading man, Kent Douglass (later Douglass Montgomery), exudes a heart-throbbingly naïve innocence, and fully inhabits the love-struck young man wanting to win the woman of his heart to his side forever. In an early scene, she sits on her bed and Roy slides down beside her, feet hooked chastely over the bed posts, as they talk and smoke cigarettes together. His eyes, adoring, never leave her; his smile, giddy, with new found love. Director James Whale spent three precious days in private coaching to bring young Montgomery up to speed; there isn’t a false note in his entire performance. Is it multi-faceted, as Clarke’s is of Myra? No, but its touching realism is played exactly right. And he has an infectious giggle.
The other roles are all bit parts, save, perhaps, for the gently strong-willed Enid Bennett as Roy’s mother. In two confrontations, one on the tennis court and the other in her boudoir, Bennett creates a resigned figure who, within the bounds of propriety, will look out for her son and her family. By recognizing Myra as essentially a “good girl”, Bennett is able to reveal a more human, less class-conscious side while relying on Myra to “do the right thing”. Bette Davis, in her third and last film for Universal, is capable and non-descript. That’s not a knock; there is no role for her here.
The other revelation of Waterloo Bridge has got to be the strong guidance provided by director James Whale. This was his second film (he debuted a year earlier in Journey’s End, from Gainsborough Pictures) and was made on the eve of Frankenstein (it premiered just 82 days later). Whale went on to direct The Invisible Man, Bride of Frankenstein, The Man in the Iron Mask and, incongruously perhaps, 1936’s musical smash Showboat featuring Irene Dunne and the great Paul Robeson. Whale’s career spanned ten-ish years, with 20 of his 21 films completed by 1941. Whale’s stage experience (as director), and innate cinematic sensibilities, are fully in evidence here, without a single mis-step. Working within a very tight budget, Whale manages some incredibly effective settings in the musical hall, on the bridge in a bombing raid, in Myra’s lodgings, several street scenes and inside the Cronin mansion – not to mention some “on location” shooting on the grounds. As much as Clarke could have become another Shearer, and Douglass another Leslie Howard, it is cinema’s loss that Whale didn’t fully actualise Whale.
The print is gorgeous for its very, very early date and if the sound is thin, it remains compelling, delivering the rich urgent baritone of Douglass’s young voice. It’s a pity no commentaries or extras are attached to this set but don’t let that deter you from experiencing this unexpected treasure for yourself.