User Reviews

I have seen this film many times and each time draw a new facet from the Catherine - Dr Austin Sloper - Moris Townsend non-love triangle. But it is my opinion after all these years that everybody underrates Catherine. Many children grow up in the shadow of an esteemed parent whose legend reaches near mythical proportions. Certainly that's Catherine's misfortune. While her mother was not a world famous starlet, she was worshiped by Dr Austin Sloper and even rambling air-headed Aunt Pennyman cautions Dr Austin that he has elevated Catherine's mother to near Goddess stature to which no woman dare compare.

Yet in spite of his open wound constantly gnawing at him whenever Catherine cannot ascend to her mother's level, Dr Austin sees himself as a pure rationalist, one who even contrives to control his own death and the security of Catherine's fortune thereafter.

But here's how everyone underrates Catherine: everyone looks at the hard lesson she's dealt without excusing her youthful inexperience and almost no one sees how she's able in the ante-bellum period to be an independent woman, to run a household, give commands to subordinates including the interfering Aunt Pennyman and interact with Maid Moriah (called Maria in the credits but consistently pronounced Moriah in the film) taking charge without talking down to her. Her true voice comes out in the foiled elopement but it is her father's voice: rationality and command.

Her father was waiting in vain for her mother reincarnate.

She is her father's daughter, without the musical talent of her mother or her mother's sociability (then called gaiety in times spoken of.) Catherine even inherited her surgeon father's talent for stitch-work which is put to embroidery.

The costuming and music is fantastic. The love song though composed for this film sounds like a tune from the ante-bellum era.

Seriously, when I was 10 I saw this and said "this is me", and I was right. This is one I never get tired of watching. I am of the opinion it is Wyler's best film and possibly one of the 25 or so greatest American movies of all time. Anyone with me? (You can be against me as well, of course. As Marty Feldman says in "Young Frankenstein," 'Suit yourself. I'm easy.') The story is just electrifying, all because it is so subtle, perhaps, so quiet and reserved in accordance with the period manner. But the depths of pure human viciousness and and cruelty have perhaps never been so incisively displayed. Wyler's camera is at every occasion positioned perfectly, and the production is flawless.

DeHavilland got her second Oscar for this, and most deservedly. She's brilliant, in what is probably the best role of her career. Ralph Richardson was nominated for Best Supporting Actor, and was absolutely robbed of the statuette. He is even better than she is, if that's possible. His "Dr. Sloper" is a masterpiece of the acting craft. Forgive me now while I shamelessly spoil the film. I talk in great detail. If you don't want that then do not read on!

DeHavilland plays a girl whose mother died in childbirth, and thus she is the only child to Dr. Sloper (Richardson). Sloper is constantly saying things that say, in socially acceptable 19th century terms, that Catherine is an entirely inadequate consolation prize for the wife that he lost to death. Apparently Catherine's mother was a graceful beauty - at least that is Sloper's memory. Catherine is a rather plain dull girl who spends all of her time embroidering, a habit that requires tenacity and accuracy, not imagination or grace.

But then one night she goes out to a dance and meets Morris Townsend (Montgomery Clift). What a handsome devil Clift was when he arrived on the Hollywood scene. And that is exactly what he is, a handsome devil. He woos Catherine and gives her the attention and love she has been denied all of her life. Like a person in a lifeboat dying for water, she laps it up.

Unfair comparison with her mother or not, Sloper sniffs out Townsend's love of the finer things and inability to get them himself in a heartbeat. He tells Catherine that if she marries him, she will be denied his share of her allowance and inheritance, cutting her allowance by two thirds. In the process the doctor unleashes his low esteem of her in a way that she can no longer retain any belief that he has a father's love of her. He has nothing but contempt for the graceless stupid thing he considers her. You can see the change in attitude towards him on DeHaviland's face. Words are not necessary.

Unfortunately, Catherine still believes that Morris loves her, and in their haste to elope she tells him of her father's pulling of the financial rug from underneath their feet. Morris says her father will change his mind. She says with iron resolution, even if he does, she will not. Morris says he will return at midnight with a carriage and they will elope. In the meantime she tells her air headed aunt Lavinia - Hopkins is splendid in this supporting role as she hovers around, by the way - what she has said to Morris. Lavinia's face sinks. Now Catherine sees that even the people who are kind to her have her father's opinion of her. The clock strikes hour after hour until dawn arrives and she realizes Morris is not coming because the money he actually wants to marry is no longer there.

Catherine's father dies, and she inherits her money and the house on Washington Square, although they remained unreconciled. Years pass and she is still unwed although more beautiful, a beauty from knowing who she is and no longer willing to lick the boots of those who might be kind to her. She dresses in fashions that she finds becoming, the opinions of others be damned. A cousin who was marrying at the time she met Morris is leaving with her children after a visit. A servant compliments Catherine's dress and then asks for the day off. Catherine points out that what we would call *** kissing is not necessary for her to ask a favor. I read somewhere where this showed that Catherine had become hard, but I say no. Catherine has learned to trade others' compliments for nothing. She holds her ground. Talk is as cheap as monopoly money and she has learned the hard way.

The silly Lavinia, always the romantic, comes and makes a supplication for Morris -she has always liked him. If people read romance novels in the 19th century she would have been the type to do so. Morris is at the door. He is back and poorer for his adventures. But this time, although I am sure he is still the fortune hunter, something has changed, and he likes what he sees in this confident woman that acted like a dog without a home just a few years before. She says to come back at midnight and they will be wed.

But as Morris returns later and pounds on the door, Catherine coldly dims the lights and marches upstairs to bed. Morris is a ghost of the suitor that never really was, and she is having none of it.

Yes, this is a film! For all of us "forever alones" who are only wanted for our favors but not our company Catherine is my hero! Three cheers! And forgive the detailed synopsis that I call a review, but I really couldn't let you know what it feels to be like her without talking about the entire plot.

It is often said that when something seems too good to be true, it probably is. That may be so, but there are exceptions to every rule. THE HEIRESS is certainly cause for exception.

This film carries with it an emotional power that is unequaled by so many films in the history of American cinema. There really are no bad roles in this film, and all of the supporting players turn in good performances with what they are given. Miriam Hopkins and Montgomery Clift give tremendously adept performances as Aunt Penniman and Morris, but the film is carried to completely different heights by Olivia de Havilland and Ralph Richardson.

As Catherine walks up the stairs after being abandoned by Morris, it is wholly possible for the viewer to feel the weight of her pain and the burden of her struggle. It almost seems like the staircase is interminable, and that she will never make it to the top. When Catherine fumbles around for her dance card, nervous and excited due to Morris' attentiveness, one might be able to sense her giddiness, and want to reach through the screen and assist her. So real and so palpable is de Havilland's performance, that even her most seasoned fan can watch this film and completely forget that he is watching Olivia de Havilland; this film is about Catherine Sloper, and she is the only one de Havilland presents from the opening frame to the end credits.

Ralph Richardson gives a performance of equal magnitude in his portrayal of Dr. Austin Sloper. Richardson creates a rather believable, rather human duality in the character of Dr. Sloper -- after countless viewings of this film, I am still not completely sure if he is more guided by love ("I don't want to disinherit my only child!") or spite ("Only I know what I lost when she died...and what I got in her place."). Richardson tackles each facet of the character with great integrity, never once wavering in his skill and performance.

On a technical note, this film is fascinating for director William Wyler's use of space. When several people are conversing in one area, he does not always have them relating to each other all on one level. In the bon voyage scene, for example, Dr. Sloper stands nearest to the camera, gazing away from the action happening to his left. The viewer then has the opportunity to see Morris and Catherine's tender parting moment, Sloper's disgusted reaction, and Aunt Penniman's giddy/uncertain response. Numerous things occur simultaneously, just as they would in a real-life situation. The multiple layers of action allow even someone who has seen the film countless times to spot something new and different with each viewing. Further, Wyler's use of mirrors and lamp light is stunning as well, and serve to set the mood in a rather large, rather empty (physically and emotionally) mid 19th century home.

I have said so much already, and I know I could say much more in praise of this film if I allowed myself. Suffice it to say, this film is a must-see for all classic film fans, and even for people who don't know they are. It is certainly one of the finest in Hollywood history, and I am confident it will be discussed for many years to come.

That's how I saw this movie: Catherine before and after she was hurt and disillusioned by the two men she loved. It was bad enough to find out her father thought of her as plain, dull and not good for anything except embroidery, but to then discover soon after that Morris, the love of her life, is only interested in her inheritance and won't marry her without it...that's the last you see of sweet, shy, innocent Catherine. Cold, bitter, cynical Catherine now takes her place.

It's sad, the way she changes so much, that she takes a compliment from her maid to be a bribe, so she'll give her some time off, when the girl was sincerely telling her what a lovely dress she was wearing. No trace of the before Catherine left.

While I can understand her revenge on Morris, I had trouble with her refusing to see her father on his deathbed, when he was asking for her. That was a bit much, and kept me from giving this another star.

Ralph Richardson is a wealthy surgeon living with his daughter, Olivia De Havilland. She is presented as homely and lacking in grace. But de Havilland meets and finds herself courted by a younger man with the classy name of Morris Townsend (sounds like a Senator), played by the sublimely beautiful Montgomery Clift. Clift is better looking than De Havilland and his ardor seems a little excessive, but De Havilland is bewitched by his charm.

Man, is she anxious to be loved -- and married! Richardson is a really cold fish, while De Havilland is inspired by her love for Clift. The father of course disapproves of the romance. Despite his elegant WASPY name, Clift is not a man of means.

Richardson takes De Havilland on a trip to Europe, hoping that she and Clift will drift away from each other, but it doesn't work. She's determined to get out of the old man's house and live a rhapsodic life with the man of her dreams. And when they return from Europe, Clift is still salivating over the prospect of marriage.

Finally Richardson throws his cards face up on the table. She's homely. She's socially clumsy. No one wants her, except for her inheritance, which he intends to deprive her of should she run off without his permission.

That's exactly what she proposes to Clift in the court yard in the middle of a driving rain. Let's elope. We'll run off together tonight. Clift eagerly agrees. He'll return for her at nine that night. But then his face drops when she brings up her disinheritance. Au revoir, Olivia. He splits for California, leaving her waiting at the window all night.

Years later, after Richardson has passed on and left her all his money, Clift shows up again, swearing that his love for her had never lessened and that he only left town because he didn't want to see her destitute. In other words, he left her flat for her own good. She gets even with him. The last shot of her climbing the stairs with a candle, smiling grimly, is chilling. The end.

Henry James in his novel "Washington Square", from which this film is adapted, may have borrowed the frame for his characters from his philosopher brother, William.

Richardson and Clift are like two peas in a pod, both "tough-minded" -- shrewd, practical, and unsentimental.

Olivia De Havilland and her comforting Aunt Penniman, Miriam Hopkins, are equally "tender-minded" -- trusting, romantic, emotional, generous.

Standing back a little from the story, it looks like a salubrious blend of Jane Austen (how can De Havilland get the proper husband?) and Charles Dickens (an impoverished young man seeks entry into the world of the very rich).

Nicely done, too. Olivia De Havilland has never given a better dramatic performance. Notice, the morning after she's been deserted by Clift, the way her voice drops into the lower register and becomes flat, toneless, and resolute for the first time. And she's supposed to be unattractive but, despite that repulsive period hair style, she still seems winsome and "nice." Her eyes are big and dark like some nocturnal animal's, maybe a harmless fruit bat. And as a girl Olivia De Havilland attended a tiny, charming Catholic school in Saratoga, California. It's still unobtrusively there, tucked away behind stucco walls, oleander, and live oak, almost as hidden as the spinster's bitterness.

Ralph Richardson is in his best form -- stiff upper-lipped, dealing out instructions to the household help and family about the arrangements for his death, forthcoming in a week or so. In full frontal view, his face is almost a perfect ellipse with uninteresting features, his hairline receding, the plane only spoiled here by a modest, pointed beard.

I prefer Clift as a brooding, tortured fellow, along the lines of his characters in "A Place in the Sun" or "From Here to Eternity." But, as a matter of fact, his Morris Townsend has a lot in common with his George Eastman in "A Place in the Sun," jealous of social standing and a comfortable income, except that here he's thoroughly cold blooded about it all. He'd rather see the sun rise on a dollar bill than on all the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. Clift and Richardson, the other tough-minded individual, have something in common too. Richardson's got it and Clift wants it, and each knows the other knows. It all puts de Havilland in the position of a soccer ball.

Very nicely done -- photography, art direction, and all. Vanessa Brown as the maid with the plump lower lip is cute. I recall seeing her as a seductress in a play on Broadway. What she needed was one of those short black outfits with a dainty white apron and perfunctory cap, like those French maids in cartoons.

I'm puzzled by the high marks and reputation of this movie. It asks more of a viewer than to just pay attention, which is fine, but it results in a lot of paradoxes. Viewer identification jumps back and forth between Catherine and her father.

• Catherine is an absolute plain-Jane, thick-headed dullard, but the viewer is forced to adopt her viewpoint and invest in her emotional stakes.

• The relationship of Catherine to her father ends up squeezing the Morris plot off the screen, but then the Morris plot isn't that interesting and his motives are transparent to viewers after about 8 minutes. Ultimately this has the effect of making the big twist at the end seem pretty short-changed.

• Catherine is resentful over being correctly informed that her suitor is a dog. In her arrogance she seems to completely excuses herself of blame in the incident. Whose fault is is that she never became worldly? It isn't her father's.

• The Catherine/Dr. Sloper relationship is far more interesting than the diagrammatic obviousness of the Catherine/Morris plot line. Culminating in a parent-child discussion that is never supposed to occur. He's disgusted with his daughters tiresome failure to thrive. As a viewer, I was disgusted with her for the same reason. But Catherine is so dense that he eventually has to grind her nose in her own ignorance and naiveté. The only way he finds to do so is to also burst the socially-sanctioned bubble of protectiveness and flattery to the female ego. Instruments which, in Catherine's case, have actually damaged her.

• When Catherine is finally forced to grow up it's only because her father was so harsh. Her new informed viewpoint can be credited completely to his rude remarks. Ultimately he IS right to offend her. - Catherine treasures her awkwardness up till the break, then she treasures her resentments against Morris and her father. She's not exactly growing.

• She leaves Morris banging on her locked door... that's it? That's your ending? Even her punishment is unimaginative; and a pretty slim reward for a viewer sticking with the movie.

I found Clift mediocre (despite his pride in his own talent) deHaviland only adequate, and Richardson amazing.

This is one of the few 10+ movies on my list of thousands. Everything about the film is excellent. The script, based on the Goetz's play, based on the Henry James novel, is tops. The technical aspects are first-rate. And the performances … well, each of the four main characters seems to have been made for his or her respective role in "The Heiress." And one – Olivia de Havilland, gives, in my estimation, one of the greatest performances in the history of movies.

In watching this film again, I was aware that de Havilland seemed to mesmerize me. In the IMDb quotes section of her biography, de Havilland says that she preferred the parts of good girls because they are more challenging and difficult to play than are those of bad girls. Serious roles of the types of characters de Havilland has played, with varying temperaments, characteristics and personalities, surely are the more demanding. And de Havilland plays them to perfection. In just a few minutes into "The Heiress," I began to think about the quality of acting, and how superb de Havilland was in her role.

"The Heiress" is rewarding in another way. It's one of the few films I know of that has several mini-stories that are all developed very well. I think this is rare for a movie. Films that have subplots or main characters often fail to develop them to full satisfaction. But consider the four stories here. We know the main one, of this shy, demure, very decent and plain young woman, Catherine Sloper. We watch the changes in her character. Near the end, she tells Morris Townsend that she had forgiven him. We believe it, because she is honest and is now a wiser person from her experience and years. She would be forgiving rather than be a driven person without peace. As a wiser person, she immediately sees through Townsend's amorous moves the second time. But instead of an act of revenge (she forgave him, and doesn't lie), she decides to teach Townsend a lesson with a clear message that he is out of her life forever. She can't do that by talking or argument against his sweet flattery. Would he ever learn his lesson any other way than through total humiliation at being stood up by her? As the light fades from behind her bolted door, reality sinks in for Townsend. He has lost in his scheme to lie his way into wealth and a life of comfort.

Montgomery Clift is ideal for the Townsend role, the second character study. The viewer knows right away that he's a gold digger. We mistrust him by what we have seen and heard before he enters the scene. Catherine's father, Dr. Sloper, has warned us about such people. And, in Catherine herself, we see a plain, not very attractive young woman. So, when Townsend appears to ask her for a dance, we suspect him right away. And when he opens his mouth with his flattery, sweet talk and politically correct language of the day, we know he's not to be believed or trusted. Clift plays his part to perfection. Yet, with all the signals we get, we're still never absolutely sure about him until he abandons Catherine after she tells him she won't get her father's inheritance.

Ralph Richardson plays Dr. Sloper to a tee. His character is a little more complicated and we don't see all of him until Catherine does. He has the usual concern and hopes for his daughter. But he is more wary because she hasn't picked up social skills or done well in most endeavors; and because she is not attractive. Still, he's her father, and we know he must love his daughter and want to see to it that she's taken care of in life. As the movie progresses, Dr. Sloper makes a couple of denigrating comparisons of Catherine to her mother. We can understand a threat of cutting off her inheritance – that's always a legitimate hammer to ward off gold diggers. But finally, Catherine and we see some actual disdain for her by her father. He had carefully masked his lack of love for his own daughter, by his parental concern for the welfare of this otherwise plain person.

The fourth character developed beautifully in this film is that of Aunt Penniman. Miriam Hopkins does great justice to the role. At first, she seems a bit scatterbrained. Besides the flightiness of aunts in these types of dramas that seems to be the norm, Aunt Penniman has a genuine love for her niece. She means well and wants happiness for her niece. She says one line to her brother, the doctor, that causes him to stop to think. So what if Townsend would squander Catherine's money, so long as she is happy? Then the aunt becomes a willing confidant of Townsend. In the end, she seems to be shallow after all, when she can't understand Catherine's final rebuff of the dishonest, scheming suitor.

What an excellent movie! Never does it lead to a low mood or spirits. Rather, it's a wonderful story that wraps its pages and celluloid around viewers and pulls us in. We like Catherine. We feel a little sorry for her. But we respect and care and hope for her. We want all to work out well for her, in spite of all the sham and dishonesty that builds around her. And so it happens. Watch for the ever-so-slight upturn of the lips on de Havilland's face as she turns down the lamp and heads off to her room content with the outcome of the day.

After years of waiting to see this film, I finally saw it yesterday! Excellent film with Olivia de Havilland giving a stunning performance as spinster and heiress Catherine Sloper (though I still think she was even better in The Snake Pit). Ralph Richardson is also brilliant as her cold, cruel father, and Montgomery Clift...well, you shouldn't trust Morris Townsend for a second, but when he looks LIKE THAT, you can forgive him anything! Let's not forget Miriam Hopkins who is also very good. Wyler has directed many of my favourite films, and he gets an intelligent screenplay from James' famous novel to work with here. The film actually deviates and, in my opinion, improves on the original source material, strengthening Catherine's character and her actions in the pivotal final scene. Just a marvellous experience.

William Wyler directed the Henry James adaptation of the short story, "Washington Square" with musical score by Aaron Copeland and starring Oliva de Havilland as Catherine Sloper, Ralph Richardson, Dr. Sloper her father, Montgomery Clift, the fortune hunter Morris Townsend, and Mirriam Hopkins, Aunt Livenia. Set in mid-century New York, it is a character study of Catherine, a guileless, plain, dull, and enormously wealthy only daughter of Dr. Slocum, a widower. Catherine has been raised without a mother, who in Dr. Slocum's memory was perfection. Unlike her mother however, Catherine is an embarrassment as she is sans social graces, and incapable of achieving a respectable marriage to any man of her social class and wealth. Her only talent according to Dr. Slocum is she "embrodiers neatly." Meeting the handsome Morris Townsend at a family affair, Catherine is enchanted with the smooth, attentive, and socially clever but penniless young man. He is too good to be true and they quickly initiate a whirlwind courtship that culminates in Dr. Slocum refusing to allow Catherine to marry Morris, and taking her to Europe to forget him.

On their return, Catherine secretly meets Townsend who has been charming Aunt Livenia in the Slocum house while the family was abroad, and she facilitates the couple's secret rendezvous and plans to elope without the consent of Dr. Slocum. Threatening to disinherit Catherine from her enormous fortune on his death, Slocum cruelly informs his innocent daughter that her intended is only marrying her for her money for she has nothing else to offer any man. The truth of her father's disdain and the opportunity to break away from him by carrying out a secret elopement the night of their return from Europe spurs Catherine to agree to Morris' plans. Blindly, she informs Morris that her father will cut her off with only a third of the expected amount of her inheritance, but they will live on love and she will make him a devoted, faithful, and comfortable home. At this news and unaware to Catherine, Morris promises to return at midnight but instead deserts her. Leaving her waiting for him in the parlor, the wizened Catherine is shattered, bereft, but with her respectability intact. The resolution of Morris' actions and Catherine's newly found mature "voice" takes on the true Henry James twist with the finest third act of the film left for the return of Morris to Catherine's parlor.

Wyler uses the manners and architecture of the 19th century upper class parlor to the full extent through the formal interior settings, panel doors, furniture, and expectations of the kinds of infringements that Morris has enacted on Catherine in subtle ways. When he leaves his gloves on the front hall table, Dr. Slocum is aware of Townsend's intention to move in to his home over his objections through courtship of Catherine. Later, Morris leaves an empty brandy cordial, cigar wrapper, and use of the private library of Dr. Slocum's home during the family's absence, an act that was akin to dogs scent marking their territory. Instead of taking his leave from a serious father/daughter discussion between Dr. Slocum and Catherine over the objections to Morris' proposal for Catherine's hand, Townsend manipulates Catherine's unwitting interjections on his behalf to her father, and allows a woman to fight his battle instead of doing the manly and correct thing.

Catherine, unaware of these signs and their meanings until her abandonment, stages her own revenge on the duplicitous, greedy suitor presenting him with his wedding gift that she's kept over the many years, and then orders the door bolted, closing the heavy brocade parlor drapes, and turning off the lights at Morris' second elopement scheme. As a lamp's light marks her movements up the staircase through a transom window and to the intimate family bedrooms upstairs, Morris is shut out from Catherine's heart, money, and the house he'd brazenly announced to Aunt Penniman was his "home." It is a masterful scene that is one of the most chilling in film history.

Oliva de Havilland won an Oscar for this performance which is matched by the exceptional performances of Ralph Richardson, Montgomery Clift and score of Aaron Copeland. Subtle, nuanced, and deliberate, de Havilland changes on screen from plain Jane to mature, confident and attractive simply through her voice, hair, and posture. It is a gesture that did not rely on gaining weight and shedding it for the role, nor allowing herself to don prosthetics which today's actresses rely. Instead, de Havilland's tenor of voice is audibly heard to deepen and lower signaling her new maturity in one scene between Catherine and Morris as they plan their forbidden elopement. Miss it, and you will have overlooked one of the most subtle acting performances captured on film. Worth viewing and an excellent addition to classic collections of great films, Wyler's The Heiress is a significant film to announce the entrance of the post-War American woman to film audiences.

Who is the main antagonist of 'The Heiress'? Is it Dr. Sloper, who continually humiliates his daughter because she can't measure up to his deceased wife but ends up leaving his fortune to her anyway? Or is it Catherine, whose self-esteem growing up, takes a beating at the hands of her father, only to transform herself later on into a calculating independent woman who coldly fails to visit her father on his deathbed and takes revenge on a conniving suitor? Or is it Morris Townsend, the ne'r-do-well who brings a little excitement into the life of the socially backward Catherine but all along is simply after her inheritance? It is precisely these ambiguities that have sparked so much discussion on the internet regarding this flawed but fascinating film classic.

Many internet posters consider Dr. Sloper the true villain of the piece. But is he? By the standards of the 21st century, some view him as a classic misogynist. But in terms of when the story is supposed to take place, the 1840s, he's actually a true man of his times. When Catherine brings the fish she's bought from the fish vendor into the house, Dr. Sloper gently reminds her that she's failing to follow the typical class protocol of the time—which is to have the vendor bring the fish into the house. But does he run down the street and thrash the vendor with a cane because the man failed to assist his 'social betters'? The vendor's 'faux pas' along with Catherine's, hardly concerns the good doctor.

But there are those who fault Dr. Sloper for being violent on the inside—the way in which he inflicts grave psychological harm to his daughter. He tells his sister, Mrs. Penniman, that he considers Catherine "mediocre" and "lacks poise" but on the other hand, gently reassures her to her face that "she's not a disturbing person". Today, young people who are developmentally disabled are not stigmatized the way they were 160 years ago. They see psychologists or go to special schools. But in 1849, there were no shades of gray when it came to mental health. Those who were considered 'slow' or 'childlike' had to 'sink or swim'. Dr. Sloper's patronizing attitude toward his daughter was a mixture of both contempt and true parental concern. In a sense, Dr. Sloper was a 19th century advocate of today's 'tough love'. He 'expected' his daughter to adjust but when he saw that she didn't have the insight to see through Morris, he didn't forbid her never to see him again—rather, he judiciously suggested a compromise where he took her to Europe, where he was hoping that she might come to her senses.

After their return to New York, Dr. Sloper made some hurtful, inappropriate comments to Catherine after she informs her father that she hasn't changed her mind and still intends to marry Morris. He tells her that she has nothing to offer and men will be only be interested in her for her money. Clearly, he's frustrated with her since she can't see through Morris and leaves her with the famous line that her only real talent is her neat embroidery. Catherine's emotional transformation from naive waif to the steel-hearted heiress in a heartbeat is perhaps the least convincing scene in the movie. But hey, that's what melodrama is all about! To confess, I liked Olivia de Haviland in the second half where she's much better at playing a Cruella de Ville than a Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.

As for Catherine, it's clear she's depicted as a tragic figure, incorporating all of her father's bad points and becoming even more inflexible than he. When Dr. Sloper is dying, he's even willing to praise her gumption in deciding not to go with Morris. But as he reaches out, Catherine falsely tells her father that she's still in love with Morris, just to get back at him even more. The coup de grace is when she fails to visit her father on his deathbed. I would say a majority of people when they get older, forgive their parents and acknowledge that they tried their best. But not so with the embittered Catherine.

Finally there's Morris Townsend whose character was modified to be more benign from the original source material of the play the movie was based on. This was done at the behest of the film's producers, who felt that the public would not accept a romantic leading man such as Montgomery Clift, as a malevolent villain. Morris is the weakest of the three principals, precisely because we find out so little about him. He's a charmer and has a nefarious plan and that's it. And while he deserves his comeuppance when Catherine locks him out of the house, I found the way in which she takes revenge to be rather a dull and unoriginal plan. There needed to be something a little more dramatic and clever for the finale, instead of Montgomery Clift locked out of the house and simply banging incessantly on the door.

I would be remiss if I also failed to mention the comic relief of the story—and that's Aunt Lavinia Penniman. She's also an ambiguous character in that she's quite supportive of Catherine but undermines her at the same time due to her support of Townsend. Penniman's problem is she's addicted to romance novels. So it doesn't matter whether Townsend is a scoundrel or not; her need is to live vicariously and have her 'fix' of romance--blinding her to the reality of Townsend's scheme which ultimately contributes to Catherine's heartache, by egging her on into the lion's den.

Has Catherine actually turned a new page in her life after taking revenge on Morris? Like so many other scenes in this film, it's ambiguous. But it's really the dynamic father-daughter relationship which makes the film so compelling and has led to so much stimulating discussion about it on the internet.

This film made me nauseated.

It is overacted, insincere, and predictable. Were women this stupid back then? Good lord. I wanted to slap her Aunt about nine times throughout the movie.

And what kind of revenge is that? The best kind is when you move on with your life and never think of that man again.

Just terrible.