August
17, 1945, release date
Directed
by Robert Siodmak
Screenplay
by Stephen Longstreet
Based on the play Uncle Harry by Thomas Job
Music by
H. J. Salter
Cinematography
by Paul Ivano
George Sanders as Harry Melville Quincey
Geraldine Fitzgerald as Lettie Quincey
Ella Raines as Deborah Brown
Sara Allgood as Nona
Moyna Macgill as Hester Quincey
Samuel S. Hinds as Dr. Adams
Harry von Zell as Ben
Judy Clark as Helen
Coulter F. Irwin as Biff Wagner
Craig Reynolds as John Warren
Dawn Bender as Joan Warren, John’s
daughter
Ethel Griffies as Mrs. Nelson
Will Wright as Mr. Nelson
Rodney Bell as Joe
Barbara Pepper as Annie
Walter Soderling as Judd Jessup
Distributed
by Universal Pictures
Produced
by Charles K. Feldman Group
The
Strange Affair of Uncle Harry lives up to its name: It is a strange little film—and
I mean that in a good way! Even its ending is bit odd, and I give nothing away
here by describing it. The ending starts off like so many other film endings.
The screen shows the same art deco background that was behind the opening
credits, with type that one would expect, especially in a classic film from
1946:
THE END
A Universal Release
Then the
following type appears over that:
In order that your friends
may enjoy this picture,
please do not disclose
the ending.
So you
won’t find any spoilers in this blog post. Plot surprises are part of the fun
of watching films, and I can’t ignore a request like this one at the end of The
Strange Affair of Uncle Harry because almost all the twists and turns took
me by surprise.
Other
films that warn viewers about spoilers are Les diaboliques (1955) and, I
believe, Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960). If you know of more films or can
confirm my belief about Psycho, please leave a comment.
The Strange
Affair of Uncle Harry starts
with a long shot of a town in the distance, and a voice-over narrator tells
viewers that they’re looking at Corinth, a small town in New England. He’s from
the town, but viewers have no idea who he is and he never identifies himself.
He does say this: “The folks that live here, well, we’re people like
yourselves.” He shows off the statue of General Melville Quincey in the town
square and then describes how the Quinceys lost most of their money in the
Great Depression. Then he talks about the Warren Mill and adds this: “Harry
Quincey worked there, day in, day out.” And then viewers are left on their own,
so to speak.
I guess
viewers can assume that the narrator is probably not Harry Quincey, although in
a film like this one, we can never be too sure. The narrator uses the past
tense: Is this an older Harry Quincey telling his story? I guess the only thing
we can be sure of is that the story is already in the past, already being told
around town.
John
Warren is the owner of the Warren Mill, but his purpose seems only to be
romantic competition for Harry Quincey. Harry is a bachelor who lives with his
sisters Hester and Lettie, and he supports them with his work designing fabrics
for the mill. He is working at his desk when he is interrupted by Annie. She
has come to tell him that she is engaged to be married, which makes him feel
old and left out. Right after she leaves his office, Deborah Brown, the new designer
from New York City, arrives with John Warren and seemingly with a plan to solve
Harry’s problem. Deborah takes a liking to Harry immediately. She wants to hear
about his work and she enjoys his sense of humor.
In the
next scene, Deborah and Harry are on a date at a women’s league softball game.
John Warren is there, and he calls Deborah to join him and his daughter Joan in
their front row seats. Harry goes down to the front row seats with Deborah, but
there isn’t enough room for him, and he is forced to sit one row behind,
holding onto his and Deborah’s cotton candy. The shot of his face between the
two fluffs of cotton candy is a successful bit of comic relief; it is also a
way to show that Harry isn’t the one who will instigate much of the action.
John
Warren and his mill can’t stand in Deborah’s way, however. John Warren takes
Deborah home after the softball game, but his daughter Joan is in the front
seat with them and—even more important—Harry is in the backseat. Harry gets out
of the car with Deborah in front of her hotel, so he gets the alone time with
her. She wants to stargaze, and he invites her to his renovated carriage house behind
the family home to use the telescope that he built himself.
Hester,
Harry’s sister, sees them from the house, and she is just thrilled that Harry
has a date. When she runs to Lettie’s room to tell her, Lettie seems a bit edgy
about the news. After a few months, during which Lettie has the chance to sharpen
her line of attack, Deborah comes to the Quincey house for the first time to
meet the sisters. Lettie has some pointed advice for her:
•
Lettie: “We feel we know
what’s best for Harry. Deborah, I hope you won’t misunderstand if I, if I give
you a little advice.”
•
Deborah: “I shan’t
misunderstand, Lettie.”
•
Lettie: “We Quinceys have
lived a great many years in Corinth. And our name is rather well known here.
It’s ridiculous, of course, but, but there it is. So we have to be rather
careful how we conduct ourselves. If you know what a small town is.”
•
Deborah: “Yes, I do. I
picked one to be born in.”
•
Lettie: “Well, then. Now,
please don’t think I intend anything personal by this. People here are set in
their ways, ordinary minded. And a newcomer among us needs to be especially
careful. Now, don’t think that this is my point of view, but people do talk.
And if, for instance, Harry were to be observed leaving your hotel late at
night, it might be misinterpreted. Mightn’t it?”
•
Deborah: “Yes. I suppose it
might.”
•
Lettie: “Well, then, that’s
settled. I’m so glad we had this little talk. You’re such a sensible girl. I’m
sure we’re going to be very good friends now that we understand each other.”
•
Deborah: “We understand
each other. But if Harry wishes to stop by my hotel at any time, I’ll always be
glad to see him.”
Deborah
sees right through Lettie and Lettie’s barely concealed desire to exclude her. Lettie
does care about her family name and even more so about her brother. She is
the femme fatale in The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry and she may not be
ordinary minded, but she is set in her ways and she is very possessive of her
brother.
Deborah
and Harry work around romantic obstacles and agree to marry. Harry arrives home
and announces his engagement. Lettie and Hester will move out of the family
home so that Harry and Deborah can move in. Lettie doesn’t object outright, but
she starts her own campaign of stonewalling that eventually wears out Deborah’s
patience. When Lettie gets sick at church one Sunday, she’s taken away in an
ambulance. Deborah and Harry were to leave for New York City to be married that
night. Deborah gives Harry an ultimatum: Choose between her and Lettie. Harry
can’t leave Lettie behind when she might be seriously ill, or that’s what he is
afraid of. He seems to be the only one who cannot see that Lettie has been
faking her various illnesses for years.
After Deborah’s
departure, Harry finds a bottle of poison in a desk drawer in the living room
and learns that Lettie bought it when they thought their dog would have to be
put down. Harry sneaks it into his pocket and takes it with him to the carriage
house. He sits in a chair and holds the bottle of poison in front of him. In a
wonderful shot, the camera moves in on the bottle as Harry contemplates what to
do with it. Lettie shows up outside the carriage house, and Harry, standing now
at his telescope, invites her inside to join him. She gladly accepts. Their conversation
in the carriage house is chilling:
•
Harry: “You know, Lettie,
when you look up at the stars, you feel awfully small. Our problems seem so
petty against all that space on space out there. We are mere drops of nothing
compared to a sun with a hundred million miles for a backyard. So why do we
torture ourselves trying to discover what’s good and what’s evil? What’s right
and what’s wrong? So unimportant.”
•
Lettie: “Yes, Harry. We
understand each other.”
•
Harry: “Yes, we do. . . .”
One
surprise after another follows this point in the film. The Strange Affair of
Uncle Harry is barely eighty minutes long, but it manages to incorporate
all sorts of themes about domestic happiness and the lack of ordinariness in an
ordinary small town. The back of the DVD cover from Olive Films calls it a film
noir; Wikipedia calls it a film noir drama. I wasn’t so sure that it was film
noir the first time that I saw it, but I could really appreciate the film’s
dark moments on second viewing. From what I have read, the play on which it is
based, Uncle Harry, is bleak compared to the film. Several details of
the play were apparently changed so that the film version of the story would
satisfy the Motion Picture
Production Code. I haven’t read the play, and maybe it is more noir than the
film.