This 1947 film about a woman who moves into a house that is haunted by the ghost of a sea captain is a tender understated beauty.
Somebody asked me recently if I had a “comfort film.” I’d never heard that phrase before. You might even think I would reject the concept, since my customary angle as a critic is to highlight challenging films that might even cause discomfort sometimes. But movies can play many roles in our lives, and I realized that comfort can be one of them. My answer, the first that came to mind, is The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, from 1947, directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz.
Mrs. Lucy Muir, played by Gene Tierney, has recently been widowed, and we first meet her discussing her plans with her mother-in-law and sister-in-law, who live in the same London house with her and her young daughter, played by up-and-coming child star Natalie Wood. Lucy surprises them by announcing she is leaving London with her daughter, which for some reason, perhaps financial, they object to. But Mrs. Muir’s gentle yet firm defiance of all their arguments is well conveyed—this is a woman who seeks independence from control, not just from her in-laws but from male authority in general. It’s a striking difference from many of the more conventional heroines of that time, and it’s due largely to the source material, a novel by Irish author R.A. Dick, which in fact was a pseudonym for Josephine Leslie. In those days, quite a few female popular fiction writers still felt the need to pretend to be men in order to get published. Anyway, Leslie’s heroine stands apart from the kind of passive “love interest” character that was, and unfortunately sometimes still is, a standard type.
Mrs. Muir goes to a seaside village on the west coast of England, because she’s always wanted to be near the sea. The local real estate agent tries to discourage her from renting a cottage she fancies, and finally reveals that it’s haunted by the ghost of a sea captain. But Lucy likes the house so much that she rents it anyway. Soon, while settling into her new home, in a wonderful extended scene, she is confronted by little signs of supernatural presence, such as not being able to light the stove because the match keeps blowing out. When she demands that whoever’s there reveal himself, the ghost of Captain Gregg, a gruff fellow played by Rex Harrison, reveals himself. From then on, the film is one delight after another, which I won’t describe further because I don’t want to spoil it for you.
Rex Harrison is one of the main reasons the film works so well. It was the first (and best) of four films that he did with Mankiewicz. With his cranky but also slyly affectionate manner, he fits the part of the ghostly captain to a “T.” The screenplay by Philip Dunne is intelligent, witty, and emotionally satisfying. The lovely black & white photography is by Charles Lang. A special element that raises the film to further excellence is that the music is by the great Bernard Herrmann, moody and darkly romantic—a perfect score.
Best of all, I think, is the character of Mrs. Muir herself, always standing firm in her own strength, and whose romantic disappointments never damage her self-esteem. At one point Captain Gregg commands her while she’s sleeping to consider the whole story just a dream, and this mixture of dream and reality lends deeper meaning to the story. The ending—well, all I can say is that it makes me cry every time. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir is a true beauty—a comfort film indeed.
