There's No Place For Them Here: Home, Order and Independency in Harriet Craig (1950)

In last week's post I mentioned how Rebecca's bedroom (in Hitchcock's Rebecca, 1940) had become a shrine, with a place for everything and everything in its place. This surely counts for the Craig's household as well. Harriet Craig (played by Joan Crawford) is the perfect mistress of the house, with a talent for running a household.

At the beginning of the film we see a beautiful house with the servants running up and down the stairs. We hear the mistress of the house being irritated because the tissue paper she asked for is taking so long. Then we find out what all of the commotion is about: Mrs. Craig's mother has been moved to a sanitarium and she wants to catch the next train to visit her mother. The shouting for tissue paper is forgiven, because we all know the stress of catching a train, and especially to visit a parent in a sanitarium, although the majority of us probably doesn't stuff every shoe and dress with tissue paper. This is just a lady that takes really good care of her possessions: she's immaculately groomed, her wardrobe looks perfect, she packs her luggage with care and she is leery about her interior. For when everything looks nice, it is nice and it will be loved.

We soon learn that Harriet values her home to extremes. She knows the place by heart; every painting, every coffee cup and every lamp has been put in its place by her, and in its place it should remain. When entering a room, Harriet scans the interior for changes—in other words: traces—to map out the movements that were made during her absence.

One of Harriet's most prized possessions is an Early Ming Dynasty vase. She notices when the vase is just the tiniest bit too close to the edge of the mantle or when it's not perfectly centered. She proudly tells a party about the old custom of filling the vase with rice from your wedding feast to protect the home. One of the ladies replies that "it takes more than rice these days."

On the train back home from visiting her mother in the sanitarium, Harriet confesses to her cousin: "I don't like trains. I don't like the feeling of being rushed along in the darkness, having no control, putting my life completely in someone else's hands." This confession comes rather out of the blue and is followed by her rational approach to marriage. "The average woman," she says, "does completely put her life into someone else's hands; her husband's." But not Harriet, independent as she is, for marriage is merely a "practical matter" to achieve security; she becomes a wife to get a house.

Upon arriving back home, the first trace that is out of place is spotted before even entering the house: the newspaper is still outside. She leaves it there and enters the house, eager to find out what has happened. She stands still and takes in the view, carefully registering every object that is out of its place. Quickly she maps out a scenario of what has happened the night before.

The house looks like a rather wild party has taken place: The furniture is out of place, there's beer bottles on the floor and on the piano, the lampshade is tilted, the blinds aren't closed (they should be closed by 11 a.m. to prevent the sun from fading the colors in the room) and a full ashtray indicates that people have been smoking heavily indoors. A closer look at the ashtray reveals a cigarette butt with lipstick and then there's a vase full of Mrs. Frazier's roses. Hadn't Harriet clearly told Mrs. Harold, one of the servants, that there was no place for them here?

Mrs. Frazier is the "scheming widow" who lives next door together with her little boy. She can always be found tending her roses. Innocent as she may seem, she's a threat to Harriet's controlled household: she's friendly, her house is being lived in (with traces to prove it) and she's got a son, which is one of Walter Craig's biggest wishes. Naturally Harriet wants to keep Mrs. Frazier from invading their private lives by keeping her roses out of her home and out of her husband's sight.

As a contrast to Mrs. Frazier's cozy home, the Craig's house takes aesthetics over comfort. From the first glance it is clear that a lot of thought has been put into decorating the house. Symmetry can be found everywhere and all of the rooms have the same oriental influences. Throughout the house figurines are displayed, either in glass showcases or as lamp bases. When it comes to the furniture: aesthetics over comfort, once again. This becomes painstakingly clear when we see Walter trying to become comfortable on the sofa, without success, not even when rearranging the throw pillows. Harriet, however, seems perfectly at home on the sofa the way it is. She is comfortable with keeping up appearances.

In reviews of Harriet Craig, Harriet is often written about as the bitch of all bitches, with not a good cell in her body. Indeed, Harriet isn't a warm person and she does some heartless things like feigning infertility, or preventing her cousin from being loved. It's inexcusable, but it doesn't make Harriet heartless.

Early on in her childhood Harriet was hurt by her father when she caught him with "a vulgar blonde". The father left Harriet and her mother alone to make ends meet. From this moment on Harriet decided that no man can be trusted. The only person a woman can rely on is herself. Every part of her life is carefully planned and thought about as if it were a game, and she is playing it by the rules.

Harriet doesn't have to build walls around her to protect herself from getting bruised again for the house provides them for her. Decorated with hand painted oriental wall hangings, it becomes a lovely facade. The house is her safe haven, her territory, so when somebody disrupts her household, it disrupts her. A vase too close to the edge isn't just any object put in a different position, it is someone endangering the security of her home.

When Mr. Craig finally rebels against Harriet, he takes it out on the house, for that is the only way to hurt her. He smokes inside, throws the stub on the carpet and finally finds a way to be comfortable in the sofa; by rearranging the pillows and reclining with his shoes still on. He is taking back control. This is where the importance of the Ming vase and all it stands for comes back. Walter carelessly takes the vase from its pedestal and pours out the rice that was supposed to protect their home. He then smashes it.

H: "What was that?!"
W: "Nothing very much."
H: "What do you mean 'nothing very much'? It sounded as though the whole house fell down."
W: "Maybe it did."
[...]
H: "Why would you deliberately destroy a beautiful thing like this?"
W: "I didn't like it."

He has smashed Harriet's safe haven and broken down the facade. Their marriage is over, but "you can keep the house." And so Harriet remains alone in the house. The films end with Harriet drying her tears and straightening her back, trying to repair the facade with all her might. The last shot is of her ascending the stairs, before fading to black.

By the end of the film it is safe to say the house is the center of the film, the main protagonist even, for Harriet is her house: beautiful, but deserted.

In an article in People Weekly (May 30, 1977) Doris Lilly recalls Joan Crawford once telling her that
"there's a little bit of Harriet Craig in all of us." Crawford was known to be a fastidious housekeeper and she didn't shy away from branding herself as one. Next week's post will be about how Joan became known as the Queen of clean.

Question to you:

What I can't seem to figure out is why the interior is so oriental. As far as I know orientalist decor went out of style in the 1930's, so why would Harriet go for something outdated?

Credits:

Produced by William Dozier; Directed by Vincent Sherman; Based on play by George Kelly; Screenplay by Anne Froelich & James Gunn; Cinematography by Joseph Walker; Art direction by Walter Holscher; Starring Joan Crawford and Wendell Corey

Sources:

1. “A ★★★★ Review of Harriet Craig (1950).” Accessed January 3, 2016. http://letterboxd.com/overbreakfast/film/harriet-craig/.
2. Basinger, Jeanine. A Woman’s View: How Hollywood Spoke to Women, 1930-1960. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2013.
3. Bruno, Giuliana. Atlas of Emotion: Journeys in Art, Architecture, and Film. Verso, 2002.
4. “Harriet Craig (Sony Choice Collection).” DVD Talk. Accessed January 3, 2016. http://www.dvdtalk.com/reviews/61509/harriet-craig/.
5. “I’m Not Patty: Are Harriet Craig and Beth Jarrett Just Ordinary People?” Accessed January 3, 2016. http://imnotpatty.blogspot.be/2010/03/are-harriet-craig-and-beth-jarrett-just.html.
6. Matt. “Films Feminism Forgot: HARRIET CRAIG (1950).” Ruthless Reviews. Accessed January 3, 2016. http://www.ruthlessreviews.com/20730/films-feminism-forgot-harriet-craig-1950/.
7. Matthews, Glenna. “Just a Housewife”: The Rise and Fall of Domesticity in America. USA: Oxford University Press, 1987.
8. “Self-Styled Siren: Harriet Craig (1950).” Accessed January 10, 2016. http://selfstyledsiren.blogspot.be/2011/08/harriet-craig-1950.html.
9. Sherman, Vincent. Harriet Craig. Drama. Columbia Pictures, 1950.

R and I: Monograms in Rebecca (1940)

"The shadow of this woman darkened our love", announces a newspaper advert for Rebecca (1940), from the Derby Daily Telegraph (07/Oct/1940), which certainly sets the mood for the film.

Rebecca is Alfred Hitchcock's film adaptation of Daphne du Maurier's novel of the same title, written in 1938. The story tells of Manderley, the estate of Maxim de Winter, in all its ancient, beautiful glory. Rebecca, the late first Mrs de Winter, made it so. When the Second Mrs de Winter comes to live at Manderley, Rebecca's influence is still present. How can the shy new bride ever fill her place or escape her shadow? Rebecca's presence, although only hinted at, is inescapable. From verbal references to objects and monograms to flowers, she is the most dominant character in the house.

Before we even see Mr and the Second Mrs de Winter living their lives as a couple in Manderley, we see a close up of a napkin with Rebecca's initials "R de W" embroidered on it. The camera then zooms out to show that the couple is having its dinner at a ridiculously large table, with them seated on far ends of the table, separated by a large empty space. Rebecca has already come between them, even before the first course is served at Manderley.

After breakfast Rebecca always did her correspondence in the morning room, the Second Mrs. de Winter is told. After getting lost Fontaine's character finds her way into the morning-room, where the fire is lit and her desk is waiting for her. A symmetrical display of the administration once again makes clear to the protagonist that it once belonged to Rebecca. In glittery thread Rs are embroidered on the covers of notebooks all serving different purposes: menus, addresses and guests. When the phone rings the Second Mrs de Winter, still startled by the presence of the previous mistress of the house, answers with: "Mrs de Winter? Oh, I'm afraid you have made a mistake, Mrs de Winter has been dead for over a year.", only after hanging up realizing she is Mrs de Winter now.

After a visit and a good looking over from Maxim's sister and brother-in-law, Mr and Mrs de Winter take their dog Jasper for a walk. Jasper, disobeying his master's commands, runs to a boathouse on the beach. The Second Mrs de Winter, also disobeying Maxim, runs after Jasper to get him back. Entering the boathouse with the excuse of looking for a piece of rope to tie Jasper with, she finds an exquisitely decorated interior, more resembling a cottage than a boathouse. While looking around for that piece of rope her eye catches yet another monogram bearing the initials "R de W".

Maxim shouts at his bride for not listening to him when he told her not to follow Jasper to the boathouse, adding that "if she had the same memories as him, she wouldn't go there, talk about it or even think about it". To dry her tears, the Second Mrs de Winter reaches for a handkerchief in the pocket of the mackintosh she's wearing, expecting to find one there. And she does. It is Rebecca's handkerchief, also carrying her monogram. That at such a vulnerable moment, when Maxim's new bride is crying after a row with her husband, it has to be Rebecca's handkerchief absorbing her tears, might for me be the darkest presence of the monogram throughout the film.

One of the climaxes of the film happens when the Second Mrs de Winter enters Rebecca's bedroom, the holy of holies, for the first time. The room seems to be a shrine, a place for everything and everything in its place. So much so, that you wouldn't even dare to touch anything. When Mrs Danvers catches the new Mrs de Winter in the bedroom, she gives her a guided tour making sure to point out all of the luxurious items. She caresses the new mistress of the house's cheek with fur belonging to the old one, shows Rebecca's lingerie especially made for her by nuns and her nightgown that's so delicate you can even see her hand through. The nightgown is kept in a silk case that "I embroidered for her myself", Mrs Danvers explains. While Mrs Danvers is still obsessively looking at the sheerness of the nightgown, the Second Mrs de Winter turns around and starts walking away.

The last shot we see before fading to black is the camera zooming in on the silk nightdress case, going up in flames to symbolize an end to Rebecca's hold on the couple. It looks like in the end she didn't win.

Monograms first became popular for personal use in the Victorian Era. Initially textiles were monogrammed to make sure personal possessions wouldn't get lost or mixed up in laundry. Very rapidly it became a sign of prestige and wealth, so the Victorians started monogramming not only linens, but virtually everything they owned. Note that the Manderley that was created for the film is of Victorian architecture. Although monograms went out of style during WWI, they were making a comeback when the novel was written and the film was created. Styles, however, had changed. Victorian monograms were more artistic of nature, whereas the monograms of the 1930s and 1940s were of a more streamlined and typographical kind. As Julia Coburn wrote in "Make Your Own Monograms" (Ladies' Home Journal, May 1935): "... if you wish to be in fashion today, the design of your monogram must be in streamline simplicity. And —Gothic or modern— monogram you must, for everything is initialed these days."

In Rebecca, "R's" or "R de W's" seem to be looming everywhere. Our heroine, however, doesn't seem to have any monogrammed objects. Furthermore, she doesn't even have a name, only being referred to by pronouns ("I") or "the Second Mrs de Winter". Without a name, the protagonist isn't even worthy of having her own character, it seems. She is constantly reminded of Rebecca and how she is nothing like her. People, as well as the abundance of monograms imply that Rebecca was endlessly more elegant, more prestigious. So she tries to live up to her glamorous predecessor more and more by changing her hair and wardrobe and asking about what things Rebecca would have done, trying to become Rebecca instead of developing her own personality.

It is interesting to note that the monograms on both the nightdress case and the handkerchief (the more personal, intimate objects) seem to be in Rebecca's own handwriting, whereas the monograms on the napkin, plaid and notebooks are too curly, too frilly (although the 'W' bears resemblance to her handwriting). If anyone has a theory on why they did this, I would love to hear it. Fun fact: the handwriting for Rebecca was penned by Selznick's wife.

To end this post I would like to share how du Maurier described the morning room in her novel (p. 89):

This was a woman's room, graceful, fragile, the room of someone who had chosen every particle of furniture with great care, so that each chair, each vase, each small, infinitesimal thing should be in harmony with one another, and with her own personality. [...] There was no intermingling of style, no confusing of period, and the result was perfection in a strange and startling way, [...]

This makes a perfect transition to next week's post on Harriet Craig (1950), starring Joan Crawford, the protagonist of which seems to have a lot in common with Rebecca.

Credits:

Produced by David O. Selznick; Directed by Alfred Hitchcock; Based on novel by Daphne du Maurier; Screenplay by Robert E. Sherwood and Joan Harrison; Cinematography by George Barnes; Art direction by Lyle R. Wheeler; Starring Laurence Olivier and Joan Fontaine.

Sources:

1. BlondeAtTheFilm. “Rebecca (1940).” The Blonde at the Film. Accessed December 2, 2015. http://theblondeatthefilm.com/2013/10/31/rebecca-1940/.
2. Doherty, K. “Rebecca (Alfred Hitchcock 1940)- Image Is Everything.” Filmtank.org, October 25, 2009. http://filmtank.org/forum/showthread.php?t=114.
3. du Maurier, Daphne. Rebecca. London: Arrow Books Ltd., 1992.
4. Hitchcock, Alfred. Rebecca. Selznick International Pictures, 1940.
5. Jacobs, Steven. Wrong House, the. Rotterdam: nai010 publishers, 2013.
6. Strauss, Marc Raymond. Hitchcock’s Objects as Subjects: The Significance of Things on Screen. McFarland, 2015.
7. Zegarac, Nick. “Hollywood Art, the.” American Hitchcock, 2013.
8. http://www.embroideryarts.com/

Hollywood Amuses Me*

Laura’s portrait as the investigator’s main obsession. (Laura, 1944)

On the 3rd of October 2015, around 8PM I wrote this:

Research working title: At Home in the Movies: Artificiality of Home in (Classic) Hollywood.

In all honesty I didn't know whether Classic Hollywood or Classical Hollywood was the correct term. In even more honesty; I still don't know which is correct. And whilst we're making confessions, I'd also like to mention that I'm no expert by any means on the subject, I'd just like to become one, eventually.

On this blog the main focus will be how the home is depicted in Hollywood during the golden years, either in films (The Wizard of Oz (1939), Laura (1944), Auntie Mame (1958), and many others) or in the lives of the stars.

How does the set design reflect the part the home or the house plays in the film and what techniques or tricks do they use to make the set look like it does? How do they make something so artificial look like a lived in home? Why should a character have a specific wallpaper in their house? Or how do they decide which flowers would suit the character?

Of course these homes were constructed for the film, but so were the off-screen personalities of these stars. As part of the Star System the film companies controlled the way the domestic lives of the stars were depicted to the public. The lives of the stars were literally as constructed as their onscreen characters and the sets the characters lived in. Can I also learn from —and use— the techniques the studios used to construct these stars?

This research is part of an artistic project about artificially creating domestic traces, but I won't go in details about that. Not yet, at least.

Please don't shy away from comments, for they can be highly educational to me and thus will be appreciated very much.

The next post will be about the presence of Rebecca through her monograms in Rebecca (1940) directed by Alfred Hitchcock and starring Joan Fontaine and Laurence Olivier. It will be published Thursday January 7.

* The title of this post is part of a quote by Grace Kelly that goes:

Hollywood amuses me. Holier-than-thou for the public and unholier-than-the-devil in reality.