PORTRAIT of JENNIE Portrait of Jennie Anchor Bay 1948 / B&W, tinted, brief color scene / 1:37 / Street Date Nov. 28, 2000 Starring Jennifer Jones, Joseph Cotten, Ethel Barrymore, Lillian Gish, Cecil Kellaway, David Wayne, Albert Sharpe Cinematography Joseph H. August Production Designer J. MacMillan Johnson and Joseph B. Platt Film Editor Gerard Wilson Special Effects Paul Eagler, Charles L. Freeman, J. McMillan Johnson, Russell Shearman, Clarence Slifer and James G. Stewart
	Original Music Bernard Herrmann, Dimitri Tiomkin, and themes by Claude Debussy  Writing credits Leonardo Bercovici, Peter Berneis, Paul Osborn (Credited), Ben Hecht, David O. Selznick (uncredited) from the novel by Robert Nathan  Produced by David O. Selznick   Directed by William Dieterle Reviewed by Glenn Erickson Anchor Bay has followed its deluxe DVDs of Duel in the Sun and The Spiral Staircase with an exceptionally good-looking DVD of one of David O. Selznick's better films, Portrait of Jennie. This superior fantasy from 1948, was one of Selznick's productions designed around his wife, Jennifer Jones. Duel in the Sun was an attempt to overcome Jennifer's association with the religious-themed Song of Bernadette; here she plays a film-blanc inflected romantic lamia from out of time itself. Predating Somewhere in Time and Slaughterhouse-Five, and perhaps inspired by The Enchanted Cottage, Portrait of Jennie is a favorite romantic fantasy. Synopsis: Starving painter Eben Adams is freezing through a depression-era New York Winter when an elderly art dealer, Miss Spinney (Ethel Barrymore) buys one of his uninspired drawings. Inspiration comes soon thereafter when Eben meets the adolescent Jennie Appleton (Jennifer Jones), a kid playing alone in central park. She dresses and talks like a tot from 1910 and she sings a ghostly tune from the beyond. He sketches her from memory and makes a substantial sale; but when he bumps into Jennie only a few days later, she appears to be several years older. Appearing and disappearing mysteriously, Jennie returns repeatedly, each time maturing by leaps, fulfilling a promise that the ten-year-old had made to 'hurry and grow up so they can be together always'. Suspecting he's crazy and that Jennie is a phantom, Eben confides only in Miss Spinney. When the adult Jennie disappears, Eben puts together clues from her stories and from Jennie's teacher (Lillian Gish) that launch him in a race against a fated death: he rushes to Cape Cod to keep a rendezvous with his ghostly lover on the rocks below a storm-tossed lighthouse. When Savant was younger he thought Jennie was perfect, which it isn't. It is one of the more impressive romantic fantasies, and the perfect Jennifer Jones-Joseph Cotten combo. Dieterle's direction is excellent, never becoming too precious and bringing out moments that really do approach the 'timeless, ageless' beauty Selznick surely was striving for. The producer's team of creative talent invested it with a terrific look; it's one of Savant's favorite B&W films and would look all wrong in color. Since the ephemeral Jennie is the subjective romantic imagination of charcoal & oils artist Eben Adams, the excessive pictorial emphasis given her seems entirely correct. Jennifer Jones is something of a marvel. She successfully convinces us she's growing from pigtails to womanhood; her coquettishness and immaturity are engaging and her adult incarnation embodies romance like a goddess fallen to Earth. Cotten already seems a bit old, but is totally charming; this is one of his best films. Good support is given from Cecil Kellaway and David Wayne, along with Albert 'Darby O'Gill' Sharpe. Lillian Gish has nothing to do but spout a few quasi-reverent lines, unfortunately. Ethel Barrymore, on the other hand, has a solid role and handles it perfectly. Savant likes to analyze what's actually going on in fantasy films. The phantom Jennie, as other writers have thought before, may be a romantic projection of Barrymore's Miss Spinney (read: Spinster) character. Spinney is clearly in love with Eben. As in Somewhere in Time, Jennie indulges the hopeful notion that there is someone out there ideally suited for all of us, and only the lucky find their ideal mate in their own place and time. Spinney is too old for Adams, as Jennie is too young for him, yet Time does not matter, only Love.1 Realist painter Eben is a surrealist hero. He finds something totally irrational in his life, and instead of denying it, accepts and worships it for what it is. Thus he lives in a New York of his own creation; a (literally) canvas-textured world. When it is mysterious, Central Park can look like a Mario Bava forest from Black Sunday. When the mood is romance, a seedy artist's garret becomes a sacred, glowing place. Reality and fantasy are no more delineated than Jennie's various impossible 'versions'. Eben finally finds himself on a rocky spit of land in an impossibly violent storm, making love to a woman who doesn't exist while a tidal wave (of reality?) crashes down to vanquish his fantasy forever. This is the closest thing the movies have come to the delirious surrealism of Henry Hathaway's Peter Ibbetson. It's a tough thing to criticize Portrait of Jennie, but the flaws are there, and they are easily pinned on producer Selznick. The movie starts far too slowly, with reams of poetry text to read on screen, and pretentious and rather condescending narration to suffer through. Selznick has little feeling for nuance or subtlety. Every plot point is made literal and obvious. The only evidence of Jennie's existence is a scarf, which is treated as far too special an object by all who come in contact with it. Likewise, everyone who describes Jennie immediately refers to her ghostlike quality, as if they were reading heavenly publicity handouts. The retired costumer provides Eben with Jennie's background far too conveniently, and one rolls one's eyes in the scene where Lillian Gish practically hands Cotten a celestial roadmap with a red "X" for Land's End light. When the lovers meet, they trade ridiculous verbal nuggets of romantic wisdom as tons of water smash them against the rocks. These appear to be last-minute looped additions. After terrible reviews, Selznick yanked his film from theater chains and recut and revised it, spending on even more spectacular effects for the ending. When it failed again, he re-released it a third time in 1950 as Tidal Wave in a vain attempt to pass it off as an action spectacle. Unlike Eben, Selznick couldn't accept the magic of his movie unless the public accepted it as well. But most of the dialogue is fine. The Debussy music is extremely good, and the comic relief in the Irish bar is welcome. The movie is a visual marvel, and Jones and Cotten are a sublimely attractive couple, making Portrait of Jennie a prime date movie. It will work much better than Deep Red, take it from Savant. Anchor Bay's DVD presentation is terrific. In the 1980s a laserdisc was announced and abruptly cancelled, for a lack of decent source materials. Savant's VHS from the old Z Channel indeed had an annoying soundtrack buzz through an entire three reels. In the spirit of its original presentation, Anchor Bay has retained the tinting of the final reel, which plays in a ghostly green, and a breathtaking ending color view of the eponymous portrait in a museum being admired by a pre-teen Anne Francis (now there's a bit of romance out-of-time to ponder). What nobody can replicate is the wonder of Magnavision, a special 'process' for the film's premiere. Selznick prepared a giant masked screen, and the movie showed normally until the lightning bolt that initiates the green-tinted storm. Then the screen masking receded and a zoom lens on the projector enlarged the screen just for the special effects finale. Coming five years before CinemaScope, this William Castle-like idea wasn't very practical for ordinary distribution. On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor, Portrait of Jennie rates: Movie: Very good Video: Excellent Sound: Excellent Supplements: Theatrical trailer Packaging: Alpha case Reviewed: November 19, 2000 Footnote: 1. Jennie sidesteps the idea that Eben Adams is some kind of child molester. Everyone has seen children who are already attractive to adults, and if anyone really behaved as does Adams they'd be convicted as a sex offender, sensitive artist or not. Some things in Jennie have dated but not this; audiences never snicker at it. Return [Savant Main Page] [Savant Links] [Article Index] [Review Index] [Savant 5 Year Report] DVD Savant Text © Copyright 2007 Glenn Erickson Advertise With Us Review Staff | About DVD Talk | Newsletter Subscribe | Join DVD Talk Forum Copyright © DVDTalk.com All rights reserved | Privacy Policy