I can't shake the feeling that I shouldn't like HEAVEN KNOWS, MR. ALLISON as much as I do. The premisea marine and a nun are stranded together on a Pacific Island during WWIIis hokey and implausible; I'm no fan of organized religion or the military; and Cinemascope Technicolor adventure movies are not my cup of tea. But actually it's a small-scale movie about two people alone togetherthey are the entire cast, apart from some extras playing Japanese soldiersand I find it as moving as any love story I can think of, though it's non-traditional: platonic on one side, unrequited on the other. The script and direction are good, but the success of the movie rests entirely on Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr, who give two of the most beautiful performances I've ever seen. The respect and affection they show for each other (they felt the same off screen) elevate it above all other mismatched-couple-in-the-wilderness movies.
Deborah Kerr is so expressive she could have been a star in the silent era, though she does an excellent Irish brogue here too. Every feeling and reaction shows vividly but naturally on her facefrom her queasiness trying to eat raw fish to her delirious spasms during a fever, from her childlike delight at discovering food left behind by the Japanese to her anguish when she thinks her companion has been killed. Her character, Sister Angela, is brave, funny, sensible, warm and open: you never question the marine's devoted love for her. Running around the hillsides and beaches in her flowing white habit, she looks like a little girl trying to keep up with her big brother.
But good as she is, Mitchum's Cpl. Allison is the engine of the story; he's the one who breaks your heart. It's redundant to complain that Mitchum should have been nominated for an Oscar as Kerr was. The chance of the Academy honoring a man with Mitchum's bad-boy reputation was always slim, and how likely is it that he would win a "best actor" award when he never looks like he's acting? With most actors, no matter how good they are you remain aware that they're giving "a performance." But you never, ever have this feeling with Mitchum; you can never see any mechanism at work, any thought-out characterization. You could watch this and think he's just some big, dumb, good-hearted guy. (Try watching it back to back with CAPE FEAR, where you might think he's just some diabolical sleazeball.) He uses a generic Brooklyn, working-class guy accent (he's supposed to be from Milwaukee, but so what?) and touchingly addresses Sister Angela as "Ma'am"--she treats him with equal respect, always calling him, "Mr. Allison." He's gentle and protective; more than any other, this role demonstrates Mitchum's ability to be machooverwhelmingly, coarsely masculineand at the same time incredibly delicate, tender and sensitive. There's poetry in his gestures, as when he whittles a comb for Sister Angela and wraps it in a leaf with a hibiscus flower. In a way, his love for her doesn't seem sexual, but more like the love for an adopted child or a kid sister. When he proposes to her he says, "I want to look after you"; it gives him such pleasure to take care of her, to know she needs him. Mitchum didn't need to act when it came to expressing affection for Deborah Kerr, whom he always called his favorite actress. Once during the filming, after they had been standing on sharp rocks, he got down on his knees, unlaced her shoes, and massaged her feet.
Kerr never suggests that Sister Angela is sexually tempted (though heaven knows, most women sharing a cave with Mitchum would be!) but her platonic love for him, and her pain at being unable to return his love, opens a wider world for her. Their relationship is truly chaste, with no innuendo, no exploitation of the dirty jokes inherent in the situation; John Huston had to fight to make it this way, since studio bosses actually wanted something more suggestive. It's delicate and yet matureand it's sexy too: when Mitchum takes off his shirt to keep her warm, and the way he strokes her forehead gently when she's sick, and when he needs to undress her he holds up a blanket and hides his face behind it. Somehow despite being such an earthy man, Mitchum makes Allison's restraint entirely credible. Even when he gets drunk and expresses his frustration, you know he wouldn't do anything to hurt her.
I forgot the mention that the Japanese invade, and then the Americans invade, and our heroes catch a sea turtle and so forth; the action is always peripheral to the development of the personal relationship. I don't really like the final "moral" of the story, because the marine and the nun, after having the opportunity to abandon their institutions in favor of personal ties, turn back to the institutions. I love Allison's drunken speech about how pointless it is for them to adhere to their jobs alone on the island: "What are you gonna do all day, pray? Yeah, and I'd drill. I can see you telling your beads, me doing the manual of arms, on opposite ends of the island .We don't belong to anything off this island, all we've got is it and each other. Like we were Adam and Eve, yeah, and this was the Garden of Eden!" But I can't say I'd want the film to end differently. The respect and chasteness and sense of duty are what make the characters so appealing. They say goodbye with heartbreaking politeness; you can tell that despite all the danger and discomfort, they're a little sorry to be rescued.
Deborah Kerr is so expressive she could have been a star in the silent era, though she does an excellent Irish brogue here too. Every feeling and reaction shows vividly but naturally on her facefrom her queasiness trying to eat raw fish to her delirious spasms during a fever, from her childlike delight at discovering food left behind by the Japanese to her anguish when she thinks her companion has been killed. Her character, Sister Angela, is brave, funny, sensible, warm and open: you never question the marine's devoted love for her. Running around the hillsides and beaches in her flowing white habit, she looks like a little girl trying to keep up with her big brother.
But good as she is, Mitchum's Cpl. Allison is the engine of the story; he's the one who breaks your heart. It's redundant to complain that Mitchum should have been nominated for an Oscar as Kerr was. The chance of the Academy honoring a man with Mitchum's bad-boy reputation was always slim, and how likely is it that he would win a "best actor" award when he never looks like he's acting? With most actors, no matter how good they are you remain aware that they're giving "a performance." But you never, ever have this feeling with Mitchum; you can never see any mechanism at work, any thought-out characterization. You could watch this and think he's just some big, dumb, good-hearted guy. (Try watching it back to back with CAPE FEAR, where you might think he's just some diabolical sleazeball.) He uses a generic Brooklyn, working-class guy accent (he's supposed to be from Milwaukee, but so what?) and touchingly addresses Sister Angela as "Ma'am"--she treats him with equal respect, always calling him, "Mr. Allison." He's gentle and protective; more than any other, this role demonstrates Mitchum's ability to be machooverwhelmingly, coarsely masculineand at the same time incredibly delicate, tender and sensitive. There's poetry in his gestures, as when he whittles a comb for Sister Angela and wraps it in a leaf with a hibiscus flower. In a way, his love for her doesn't seem sexual, but more like the love for an adopted child or a kid sister. When he proposes to her he says, "I want to look after you"; it gives him such pleasure to take care of her, to know she needs him. Mitchum didn't need to act when it came to expressing affection for Deborah Kerr, whom he always called his favorite actress. Once during the filming, after they had been standing on sharp rocks, he got down on his knees, unlaced her shoes, and massaged her feet.
Kerr never suggests that Sister Angela is sexually tempted (though heaven knows, most women sharing a cave with Mitchum would be!) but her platonic love for him, and her pain at being unable to return his love, opens a wider world for her. Their relationship is truly chaste, with no innuendo, no exploitation of the dirty jokes inherent in the situation; John Huston had to fight to make it this way, since studio bosses actually wanted something more suggestive. It's delicate and yet matureand it's sexy too: when Mitchum takes off his shirt to keep her warm, and the way he strokes her forehead gently when she's sick, and when he needs to undress her he holds up a blanket and hides his face behind it. Somehow despite being such an earthy man, Mitchum makes Allison's restraint entirely credible. Even when he gets drunk and expresses his frustration, you know he wouldn't do anything to hurt her.
I forgot the mention that the Japanese invade, and then the Americans invade, and our heroes catch a sea turtle and so forth; the action is always peripheral to the development of the personal relationship. I don't really like the final "moral" of the story, because the marine and the nun, after having the opportunity to abandon their institutions in favor of personal ties, turn back to the institutions. I love Allison's drunken speech about how pointless it is for them to adhere to their jobs alone on the island: "What are you gonna do all day, pray? Yeah, and I'd drill. I can see you telling your beads, me doing the manual of arms, on opposite ends of the island .We don't belong to anything off this island, all we've got is it and each other. Like we were Adam and Eve, yeah, and this was the Garden of Eden!" But I can't say I'd want the film to end differently. The respect and chasteness and sense of duty are what make the characters so appealing. They say goodbye with heartbreaking politeness; you can tell that despite all the danger and discomfort, they're a little sorry to be rescued.