Henry Hathaway’s romantic fantasy is moving despite its uncertain leading man. Ann Harding and Charles Lang’s photography give the lovers’ attachment a conviction that Gary Cooper cannot always supply, though the story requires considerable indulgence.
Peter Ibbetson is a good romantic fantasy with a substantial difficulty: its leading man seems less persuaded than we need him to be. Henry Hathaway treats love with a seriousness that initially feels forbidding, then becomes rather touching. Adapted from George du Maurier’s novel, the film asks us to accept an attachment that exceeds ordinary experience. It earns much of that belief through Charles Lang’s photography and Ann Harding’s performance, though the writing leaves considerable work for them to do.
Ann Harding gives Mary, Duchess of Towers, the steadiness this romance needs. She makes absolute devotion seem considered, without suggesting that she has mistaken it for good sense. There is enough restraint in her performance to keep the character from becoming merely an illustration of undying love. Gary Cooper’s reserve has less useful results: Peter Ibbetson can seem remote when we need some indication of what he feels. His seriousness is evident, but seriousness alone cannot make us believe in the attachment.
Charles Lang’s photography supplies much of the missing persuasion. The dreamlike treatment of the lovers’ bond allows their closeness to feel natural, even when the story has taken us beyond anything we might recognise from life. We were moved by that closeness, because the images give their devotion a tenderness that the more solemn storytelling sometimes lacks. Hathaway is wise to allow the photography so much responsibility. These passages need little explaining, and the film becomes less convincing whenever we start demanding explanations of it.
That does not entirely excuse the screenplay by Waldemar Young and Vincent Lawrence. Some of the story remains difficult to credit even after we have accepted the freedom a fantasy should have. A romance can ask us to believe almost anything, provided the people persuade us first. Here, the unevenness between the central performances keeps reopening questions that the film needs us to put aside. Peter’s emotional distance matters because so much depends on our accepting the strength of his love.
Stuart Heisler’s editing suits the film’s serenity, giving its romantic feeling time to settle. The measured pace also exposes the passages where that feeling has not quite arrived. The music, credited to Heinz Eric Roemheld, W. Franke Harling, Ernst Toch and Hugo Friedhofer, supports the solemn mood. We would still give Harding most of the credit for preventing that solemnity from becoming oppressive; she provides a human reason to stay interested.
Within romantic fantasy, the film’s willingness to take devotion seriously is appealing. There is no need for every improbable attachment to arrive with a joke that excuses it, and Hathaway does not seem embarrassed by what he is asking us to accept. The difficulty is sustaining that faith through a performance as guarded as Cooper’s. At 88 minutes, the film does not exhaust its welcome, although its emotional narrowness can make it feel longer to anyone unconvinced by the lovers.
This is consequently a recommendation for those already sympathetic to the genre, with a warning about the leading performance. Allow the photography and Harding some time to work before deciding that the story is too improbable. Give it an evening when a romance is allowed to be strange, and when nobody on the sofa is determined to keep asking how.
