Closeted gay novelist Henry James has had a checkered history in terms of his books being successfully adapted for film. They're notoriously fraught due to character ambiguity complicated by action more psychologically interiorized than plot-driven. Merchant Ivory translated three of James' works — "The Europeans" (1979); "The Bostonians" (1984), with Vanessa Redgrave's radiant suffragette Olive Chancellor; and "The Golden Bowl" (2000) — into one very good and two excellent films. Three other adept interpretations were "The Innocents" (1961), a spooky rendition of "The Turn of the Screw" starring Deborah Kerr as Miss Giddens; "Wings of the Dove" (1997), with Helena Bonham Carter's Oscar-nominated Kate Croy; and "What Maisie Knew" (2012), a six-year-old caught in the middle of a nasty custody battle between her neglectful parents. But most critics laud "The Heiress" (1949) as the finest cinematic interpretation of James ever created. In conjunction with its 70th anniversary, Criterion has finally reissued this nuanced masterpiece on Blu-ray with a newly restored pristine 4K digital transfer, its gorgeous, shadowy, black-and-white cinematography reestablishing the 1840s Greenwich Village Victorian house as the prison James intended it to be. "The Heiress" is "suggested" by James' 1880 story "Washington Square," but its real roots are the 1947 Broadway stage drama written by Ruth and Augustus Goetz, who translated James' novella into a play.
The history behind the film is worth mentioning. Actress Olivia de Havilland (who just celebrated her 103rd birthday) saw the Broadway play, immediately recognizing a plum role for herself, and suggested director William Wyler attend a performance. He not only bought the film rights, but also hired the Goetzes to write the screenplay. Fortunately, at Wyler's insistence, they kept the downbeat ending, a rarity for Hollywood at the time. Despite being a period drama, the film retains its psychological realism, and avoids appearing dated or stagy. Critically praised but a failure at the box office, the movie was nominated for eight Oscars and won four, including a richly deserved Best Actress for de Havilland, gay composer Aaron Copeland for his score, and possibly bisexual Edith Head's costumes.
Catherine Sloper (de Havilland) lives devotedly with her wealthy surgeon father Austin Sloper (Ralph Richardson), who mourns his idolized late wife, unfavorably comparing his daughter to her. Catherine is homely, shy, clumsy, and socially awkward. Austin asks his sister, gregarious widow Lavinia Penniman (Miriam Hopkins), to help Catherine become less gauche. At an engagement party for her cousin, Catherine meets Morris Townsend (Montgomery Clift), who flatters her and asks her to dance. He begins to visit her, eventually proposing to her. But Austin believes the unemployed, uneducated Morris is a mercenary, only interested in Catherine's money, most of which she will inherit after he dies, refusing to believe that a handsome man would be interested in someone so dull and talentless except for her embroidery work.
Eyeing Catherine's determination, he tells them to wait six months, convincing her to accompany him to Europe, and if she still feels the same way, they can then wed. Austin and Catherine return. Despite disinheritance threats, seeing for the first time her father's disdain for her, she agrees to elope with Morris, revealing to him her father's ultimatum. Morris never appears. The following week Austin becomes ill with heart disease, and Catherine refuses to visit him on his deathbed. She also discovers that Morris has borrowed money and left for California. Heartbroken and humiliated despite inheriting her father's fortune, she becomes cold and bitter. "Yes, I can be cruel. I have been taught by masters." Years pass. Morris, with Aunt Lavinia's help, reemerges, defending his past actions, and again asks Catherine to marry him. How she responds in the justly famous last scene concludes the movie.
Viewed at the time as a woman's picture, it isn't a stretch to view Catherine as a feminist, coming into her own by rejecting her emotionally abusive father and her scoundrel fianc�. Still, she pays a high price for her independence, and both the film and James ask the audience whether she has made the right decision. Alternatively, the more traditional, man-focused Aunt Lavinia vicariously lives through Catherine's relationship, even encouraging her to overlook Morris' fortune-hunting for a small chance at happiness.
The acting is sublime, with de Havilland capturing all the emotional and physical shadings of Catherine's metaphoric transformation from ugly duckling to emotionally despairing swan. Ralph Richardson, in his first Hollywood role, was nominated for an Oscar. He should have won for his dexterous but subtle mental manipulations, trying to bend Catherine's will at every turn. Clift himself was deprecatory of his own smooth-talking performance, as were some critics, yet he skillfully projects the character's necessary ambiguity. The audience is never sure of Morris' motivation, adding an element of suspense. Hopkins balances de Havilland beautifully, with her meddlesome romanticism but also her perceptive pragmatism. "The Heiress" is ensemble acting at its very finest. Typical of Criterion, the supplements are outstanding, especially the conversation between screenwriter Jay Cocks and film historian Farran Smith Nehme debating possible interpretations. With Criterion's magic touch, this cinematic treasure will now be introduced to a new generation of filmgoers.