keeping the campfires burning
by Douglas Messerli
Reginald Berkeley (screenplay, with
Sonya Levien, continuity, based on the play by Noël Coward), Frank Lloyd
(director) Cavalcade / 1933
Lord Mountbatten on Noël Coward:
“There are probably greater painters
than Noël, greater novelists than Noël, greater librettists, greater composers
of music, greater singers, greater dancers, greater comedians, greater
tragedians, greater stage producers, greater film directors, greater cabaret
artists, greater TV stars. If there are, they are fourteen different people.
Only one man combined all fourteen different labels – The Master.”
The suffering Jane Marryot (Diana Wynyard) loses her two sons, Edward
(John Warburton) who drowns with his newlywed wife Edith Harris (Margaret
Lindsay) aboard the RMS Titanic, and Joe to the battlefields of WWI along with
the respectability of the family with his stage-door courtship of Fanny
Bridges, the family’s former maid’s (Una O’Connor) daughter. Jane’s stiff
upper-lip, class consciousness, and almost always tearful mien finally lost me
as well, with the help of the Oxfordian Joe, who once the war had been
announced simply couldn’t stop declaiming “marvelous,” “isn’t it all marvelous?”
To give it credit, Coward’s film is strongly anti-war and mocks a great
deal of the class consciousness it quietly dictates. But I finally gave the
film up entirely when the absolutely “marvelous” girlfriend of Joe Marryot,
Fanny (Ursula Jeans)—appearing at a private party where Coward reveals just how
awful things have gotten by showing a lesbian couple engaged in conversation
before turning his camera on two tuxedoed homo gents, one awarding the other a
slave bracelet—belts out Coward’s own "Twentieth Century Blues.” And all
this after a mise-en-scène of
various forms of social, political, and fanatical war-mongering and refusals to
face the facts of how bad things have gotten!
I presume our friend Noël also wrote this passage with his tongue firmly
planted in his cheek, but it’s hard to know. After all, he did write this
popular mess, which probably paid for a great many gold slave bracelets. But I
cannot help but wonder if, despite the humor of his lyrics, Coward hadn’t just
before he sat down to pen this pretentious family historical tract, gone out in
the midday sun a few too many times.
Yet I must admit, the pretentions of the servant class in this film are
quite clearly embarrassing, behaving as if they were Americans. Goodbye dear
old England, do keep the campfires burning, I may even pop in again to warm up
to that song’s composer Ivor Novello’s reassuring visage.
Los Angeles, September 2, 2022
(Reprinted from World Cinema
Review, September 2022).



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