Got the sniffles

Portrait of Jennie: Portrait of Disbelief

Sarah Oliver

24 July 2007

Dr. Campbell

Portrait of Jennie: Portrait of Disbelief         

      The 1946 adaptation of the novel, Portrait of Jennie by Robert Nathan, is actually a pretty decent one.  This film, directed by David O. Selznick, is fairly accurate in the way it captures the despondence of the book.  Unlike the book, however, it manages to make the viewer, or at least me, feel as if there is not, never was, and never will be, hope.  In this both dismal and charming tale of unrequited love, the lack of an obvious disparity in age between the two major characters makes an immense difference throughout the action of the motion picture.         

     I am no casting director, but I would venture to say that casting a child to play the younger version of an adult actor, while difficult, is definitely feasible.  The casting director of Portrait of Jennie could have done a better job than Jennifer Jones!  She neither looks like a child, despite accurate costuming and shooting from angles to make her appear smaller, nor does she really sound like one, even though she used an exceptionally high pitched (and annoying) voice to play Jennie as a child.  She plays the role acceptably, but I was not able to suspend my disbelief far enough to accept her as a little girl.After I read the book, I did not feel that all hope was lost forever; nevertheless, that is exactly how I felt at the close of the film.Somehow, the abrupt end of the novel makes more sense than having no closure to movie, but I suppose I have been conditioned to expect a happy ending by the
Hollywood of today. 

     The scene I have chosen to analyze is the scene in which we first meet Jennie, the scene in which Eben Adams meets Jennie.   This scene, although it is supposed to be between a grown man and a child, is between a grown man and a grown woman playing a child.  The sexual tension between the two is palpable, and that uneasiness is not present in the novel.           When this scene opens, the sunlight is fading, and the black-and-white film the feature was printed on adds an ethereal aesthetic to the sunset.  It made me feel that something big was going to happen that I did not know about, and I had already read the novel twice before that.  The fact that I was unable to see the subtle variations in the color of the sunset adds to the dramatic effect of the following scene; one has to imagine the brilliant colors represented by the varying shades of grey, making that person think all the harder about the story coming to life before his/her eyes.Eben is walking by the park, or “mall” as it is called in the novel, when he spies a package sitting, unopened and unattended, on a park bench.  In the background, barely noticeable to the viewer who has not read Portrait of Jennie (hardly noticeable to me, and I have read it twice), a little girl is playing very quietly, making no sound.  Obviously not a child, Jennifer Jones portrays the role, Jennie, opposite Joe Cotton; the two have that unspoken sexual tension that is faintly creepy when seen on film, in the context of the story.  The chemistry between the actors is clear, even evident, on screen, casting a sort of sinister light onto the character of Eben Adams, making him seem reminiscent of the stereotypical dirty old man.  If Jones was not a fully grown, adult woman, the film would be grossly improper.Throughout the novel, there is a sense of hopelessness that is made valid by the ending.  Learning of the reality of Jenny being a living person, even though she is now dead, provides satisfaction to the reader.  Eben discovers that Jennie did exist, that she was not just an illusion or a ghost; she really did “hurry up” to get older for him.  With this knowledge there comes a sense of closure to the book; it gives credibility to his emotions (because he is not in love with a girl/woman who does not exist in his time).  The ambiguous ending of the film, just the sunset in varying shades of grey, provides no conclusion, no wrap-up, no dénouement.  This is frustrating.The sunrise at the beginning, the very first scene, signifies that time is passing, and it also represents a new beginning, a fresh start.  The story of Eben and Jennie makes us wonder: for whom is time passing, and how swiftly does it go?  Jennie tells Eben that she will hurry and grow up, so she does.  For Eben, time passes as it always has, with no accelerated aging.  The money he gets for his paintings is spent in the same amount of time it always has been spent.  The wall at the
Alhambra takes an amount of time that corresponds to the size of the job.  Everything else in the world goes at a regular pace; only Jennie moves more quickly through time.    The sunset that “closes” the film also signifies the closing of a chapter in the life of Eben Adams.  Though he will never forget Jennie (who could forget someone who grows up for him?!), would not dare to, that particular component of his life story is gone with Jennie, as she is taken by the wave.  Eben will never forget Jennie, but also, he will never meet another soul-mate.  He must face the reality that he has already met the one person, in all of time, who is meant for him, and he for her.  I know that would severely hamper my ability to get out of bed in the morning, to know that my one true love had drowned, and I was too dumbstruck by her mysterious appearance to really hold on to her.Jennifer Jones, as Jennie, potentially could have carved out a niche for herself.  She could have always been cast as a little girl who grows up.  In the novel, Jennie seems very young and rather delicate, but the film, Portrait of Jennie, portrays her as exceedingly so, and at the same time, not so.  Jones’ acting is little and she comes off as delicate, and at the same time we see that she is an adult.  We never really get to know Jennie’s full story, as she also remains a mystery to Eben.   It is just as well, because the story would not have such an impact if it were any less any of the characteristics attributed to it.Jennie is neither the “superfemale,” nor the “superwoman,” and not just because she is a child.  According to Haskell, the superfemale is “a woman who, while exceedingly feminine and flirtatious, is too ambitious and intelligent for the docile role society has decreed she play,” and the superwoman “…has a high degree of intelligence or imagination, but instead of exploiting her femininity, adopts male characteristics…merely to survive.”  Jennie does not use her feminine wiles to attract Eben, but he is hooked from day one, unable to paint a picture, that he has not been commissioned to paint, that is not of her.  She does not flirt with him so much as to besmirch her family name, not that it would bother her if it did; she has an active imagination and strong ambition, or else she wouldn’t be able to grow up so quickly; however, I cannot pinpoint any male characteristics that Jennie has acquired, unless aging rather quickly is, somehow, a trait that men have, or had in the early 20^th century.Altogether, Jennifer Jones was not believable as Jennie.  Maybe it is my inability to look past the physical reality of an adult woman, but I do not like her in the role.  That being said, the 1946 Portrait of Jennie is still a magnificent film, based on a magnificent novel that really makes the viewer ponder existential blather and the like (I cannot tell you what a headache I suffered while I was first reading the book).  Now, I am delighted that I have read the book and seen the film, even if it makes me think so hard I blow out a blood vessel or come down with a migraine/partial aneurism.           Part II: Reactions to Classmates          I like the way that crain2mn (sorry, do not know to whom this log-in belongs) related the story of true love to something read in a National Geographic magazine.  It lends credit to the idea of there being one true love, or soul mate, somewhere in the world; however, it does very little to truly convince me of there being one specific person out there for me and me alone.  Any skeptic would see the holes in this story.  Perhaps the ice-age man and woman were members of the same tribe but not related to one another.  Perhaps they were just two random people traveling in the same direction and were overtaken by a storm.  Honestly, we will never really know, and all we can do is speculate (however, that is the job of anthropologists, not English majors).  My point is this: the idea of there being one romantic counterpart out there for each and every one of us is as old as time itself.Like Annie, I noticed the sexual tension between Eben and Spinney.  I mentioned it to somebody else, and then I neglected to include it in my essay (I think).  It seems peculiar that there would be tension of a sexual nature between two persons so different in age, but it was, most assuredly, there [Be advised: if a heterosexual male and female are present in a story, there will always be sexual tension!).  In the long, somewhat awkward pauses in their conversations, and, actually present when Miss Spinney tells Eben that she does not doubt the existence of Jennie, it is there.  The two characters seem as if they feel comfortable, yet on edge, the way one feels around an ex-love-interest or other former romantic partner, or, around a potential one.  Because there is no obvious sexual tension-conflict in the book, perhaps it is not supposed to be in the movie.  However, as Dr.Campbell has told us, NOTHING seen on camera is there by accident (unless you watch the blooper reel).While Annie was disappointed in the book Eben (because he was insensitive to the point of making Jennie cry for the portrait), I saw that he felt it was necessary in order to get the right emotions to show on her face while she modeled.  This style of setting up a picture to paint is much the same as method acting: the director, or artist, has to make the actor, or model, feel the required emotions to get them to show accurately on camera or canvas.  I think Annie is taking for granted that Eben is, first and foremost, an artist; that is the reason he needed a muse at all.Perhaps Jennie did only appear in his life because he needed a muse, but she also happens to be his “soul mate.”  Whether she is, or not, the manifestation of Jennie in Eben’s life is absolutely necessary in order for him to create art.  His well-spring of ideas has run dry, except for some dryly-painted landscapes, which, according to Spinney, are a dime a dozen.  It is possible that he created Jenny, in his moment of need, but in this moment, he also found a way to reach his one true love, whom he might have made up.  The way I see it, Eben Adams did not create Jennie Appleton; she existed, just possibly on a different plane, maybe another time, but it makes my head hurt too bad if I really try to figure out the logistics of the supernatural.  If making him up from scratch for inspiration is the way to find my one true love, then I need to get a start on creativity right now!  

19 July 2007

Today was [yet another] FTC Day.  I understood where all the essays were coming from, I think, though I don’t think I agreed with them all.  Or maybe I did.  Somehow, this is the first opportunity I have had to post since we got out of class early today.  Not sure how that happened.

18 July 2007

That movie was interesting, but also excruciatinly boring.  I suppose that’s just a mental block I need to get past, but for now, I can’t.  That movie made me want to fall asleep.  I apologize for any offense taken by any person(s) from class, but it was overwhelmingly tedious.

Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix make-up post

Since I read the book a long time ago– okay, so no more than a few years, but still!–I don’t clearly remember much of anything from it, but I do know that the film version did not follow it.  My sister and I discussed the film version, with out friend, Whitney, afterward.  It did not follow the written [typed?] text extremely close[ly], but it did get the general tone and feeling of the book right.  No one died in it, and that is one thing I remember about the book.  I thought someone was going to die before I read it, and, thankfully, no one did. 

The film didn’t include the frustrating bits with Kreecher the house elf, or Sirius Black’s mother’s portrait (which, as you know, is animated, because it’s a wizarding world portrait), which is just as well, becaust those parts just made me suspicious of everyone in his/her turn, excepting, of course, or wonderful Harry. 

All in all, Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix was a fantastic film/movie/literary adaptation.  I found myself paying more attention to the settings/scenery/props, etc., and the designers/directors/everyone did an excellent job conveying character and foreshadowing.

Today, in class, we watched the film “Gates of Heaven,” and discussed its intricacies…at least to a small degree.  This film was kind of cheesy, in a 1970s way, but it really made sense, especially once Dr. C pointed out the deliberateness of many of the details (background, coloring, room details, etc.).  I felt that I noticed many of the intentional placements, then more of these were pointed out in greater length,  I saw that I probably only got about 1/3 of the covert details.  Now, I know to watch more carefully, so that I can point things out to my sister and annoy her

Little Women and other literary adaptations

Today’s discussion of pornography vs. horror vs. tear-jerker made me think about the “fairness” of making one illegal, while Hollywood continues to churn out the others for the masses.  Honestly, it seems wrong to make porn illegal but to allow horror films and chick flicks, when,  essentially, they all accomplish the same thing in the end.  Relating that result to bodily fluids, however, strikes me as somewhat medieval, rather like an “old wives’ tale.”  That particular association between the three genres feels over-the-top, like the writer is pushing the limits/boundaries of societal acceptability.  In other words,  I see what she means, and I can vaguely agree with it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it!

Book Vs. Movie, Women

I have always found the book to be more satisfying than the movie.  The book just allows, even encourages, one to picture the characters as he or she likes, thus leading to identification with the story.  My favorite book versus movie to debate is probably my very first experience with the disappointment involved when the movie does not live up to expectations: The Secret Garden.  Having received the book as a parting gift from my third grade teacher, it always held a special place in my heart; the copy I have, the one from 3rd grade, is battered and worn out, having been read many times.  Although the movie was/is good (let’s face it: I bought it on sale at Wal-Mart last year, and I was 23 years old), it cannot come anywhere near the vicinity of the joy and excitement I shared with Mary Lennox each and every time I read it.  I don’t quite understand why, as my character in childhood much resembled the outspoken “ballsiness” I exhibit today, but I always identified with Mary.  The movie made her get on my nerves, and she was my favorite literary heroine for years.  A film cannot properly contain all of the emotion one feels on the first, second, third, or even tenth reading of a favorite novel.  A camera is just not that capable.

 bookmovie

On the role of women and movies, I feel very strongly that motion pictures help perpetuate the classical role of women, as helpless beings that things “happen to.”  I feel like it is the fault of our, regrettably, still patriarchal, sexist society and film industry that women are still viewed as “too forward” if they take a proactive role in dating.  I hate that if I walk up to a guy and ask him to dance in a bar/club, he, and whoever I am with, regard me as too eager, as if I’m looking to get some.  On occasion I am, but usually, I just see someone who looks bored and I’d like that person to have as much fun as I am having.  That really bothers me, and film propagates that madness.

5 July 2007

The only thing I clearly recall from class today is a discussion of the roles that Professor Behr fills for Jo after she moves to New York City.  He takes on the role of father figure for Jo, as her own father is absent for the majority of the book.  He fills Marmee’s shoes as advice-giver and wise man.  Behr replaces Laurie as Confidante, since Jo lost his confidence.  The professor is something of a teacher for her, educating her in true love based on deep friendship, as well as a sharer of her passion for the everyday banalities of life, and life in general.