Between Two Worlds. 1944. Directed by Edward L. Blatt.

(5/14/01)

I have a feeling that this film might have seemed somewhat pretentious in 1944. On the other hand, it was made at a time when death was very much in the air and thus probably seemed timely. It has a sophisticated, a very modern look about it and seems quite appropriate for a score by Erich Wolfgang Korngold as a "modern" composer rather than a sound-illustrator for historical pagents.

While it has a seriousness about it, I don't think it can be taken seriously as a depiction of what happens after the breath leaves the body. It is affirmative in that the suicides (or the suicidal man, really) come to see the value of life and wish to return. And it is even more affirmative in that the powers that be allow him to, as they even allow John Garfield the chance (if I read it correctly) to change on the other side. The idea that you can still strive and learn and improve on the other side is a radical view--but a reassuring one. (I don't get why he can have another chance, but not the rich man nor the unfaithful wife. Ah, well. . .)

One of the real pleasures of Between Two Worlds is watching performers with such diverse acting styles--or maybe just diverse personalities. They are woven together like different melodies or different timbres into a kind of dramatic symphony. John Garfield (perhaps he overacts; I think he acts like a stage performer), Paul Henreid, George Tobias, Sydney Greenstreet, Sara Allgood and Edmund Gwenn--it is wonderful watching these people interact. I think I was most moved by George Tobias who thinks he is on his way home to see his new baby, though Sara Allgood is touching as is the minister who has decided to finally go out and see the world. Sydney Greenstreet strides into the film right when things need to be livened up--and liven them up he does. And Edmund Gwenn--a suicide who is condemned to sort of play ferryman forever and ever is--on second thought--probably just as poignant as George Tobias. His great moment is when he pleads with Sydney Greenstreet not to condemn the young woman to the same fate as he has known. Greenstreet doesn't answer him except to say, "good man" and walk down the stairs. But he does grant the kindly man's request.

Paul Henreid seems to overdo it a little bit as the suicide. That's how it seems, but I think the problem is that we don't have a chance to get to know him before he gets to the end of his rope. That's not his fault; it's just the way the film was laid out.

This is not a profound film; it may even be a cliched one. But it's very enjoyable.

And I did love George Tobias's good luck charm--a little doll he calls the Hohokus.