When I reviewed "Death of a Centrefold" I proposed the creation of a new category at the Razzies, the Jamie Lee Curtis Award for the least convincing portrayal of a real individual, named in honour of Jamie's attempt to impersonate Dorothy Stratten in that film despite bearing absolutely no resemblance to her. Had that award been around in 1958, "The Inn of the Sixth Happiness" would have been a sure-fire winner. It is a based on the story of the missionary Gladys Aylward who was short, dark-haired, stocky and, having been born and bred in North London, did not speak with a Swedish accent.
So the obvious choice to play her was Ingrid Bergman. Yeah, right.
Aylward was a domestic servant who believed that she had a call from God to become a missionary in China. She was, however, rejected by the official missionary societies because she lacked formal education. Undeterred, she managed to save enough money to buy a ticket on the Trans-Siberian railway, rejecting the quicker and safer alternative of travelling to China by ship because it was more expensive. In China she was accepted as an assistant to an established missionary in the city of Yangcheng. The film chronicles her life in the city, her (fictional) love affair with an officer in the Chinese army and her epic journey across the mountains with a large number of orphaned children to escape the invading Japanese. (The story takes place in the 1930s).
Aylward was still alive when the film was made, and apparently hated it. She objected to the casting of Bergman, not because of the dissimilarity in looks or her accent, but because she considered the actress, who several years earlier had been mired in scandal when she left her husband for Roberto Rossellini, an immoral person. (This scandal had led to Bergman being blacklisted by Hollywood for a time, and her casting here as a virtuous heroine was widely taken as a sign that Hollywood had finally forgiven her). Aylward also objected to the way the film minimised the difficulties she had had crossing the Soviet Union to get to China and to the implication that she had had a romantic relationship with Captain Lin Nan.
The treatment of the Lin Nan episode shows just how strange Hollywood's racial politics could be in the fifties. Lin was a real person, but contrary to the impression given here he was not Dutch on his father's side; this was a detail added to placate American public opinion which would apparently not accept a romance between a white woman and a wholly Asian man but would accept one between a white woman and a Eurasian man if he were played by a white actor. (in this case Curt Jürgens). In 1958 it was still considered politically correct for the British actor Robert Donat to play a Chinese character in "yellowface". You wouldn't get away with that nowadays. There are a number of other inaccuracies- the inn which Aylward ran in Yangcheng was actually named "the Inn of the Eight Happinesses", the number eight being considered auspicious in China, but for some reason this was changed to the "Inn of the Sixth Happiness", hence the title.
And yet this is not altogether a bad film. Bergman might not have been the most appropriate choice to play Aylward, yet she still manages to create the feeling of a truly good person, both compassionate and courageous. Donat gives an excellent performance as the elderly mandarin, a conservative figure who gradually comes to accept the necessity for the changes which Lin Nan and his fellow-reformers are trying to bring about in Chinese society. (The film takes a very positive view of the Kuomintang who ruled China at the time, probably because it was made during the Cold war and they were the avowed enemies of Mao's Communists). This was Donat's last film; he died shortly after it was finished.
Director Mark Robson was nominated for a "Best Director" Oscar, which was not undeserved. The film has its faults, but these generally have little to do with the direction. Robson keeps a firm hand on his material to create a coherent narrative out of what could otherwise have become a rather shapeless film. He was, for example, right to omit details of Aylward's adventures in Russia; the film is quite long enough already, and to have covered these incidents in greater depth would have made it seem overlong and unfocused. He provides a splendidly emotive ending in which Aylward and her young charges march to safety to the strains of "This Old Man". Yes, it might be a bit sentimental, but I defy anyone not to be moved. 7/10
So the obvious choice to play her was Ingrid Bergman. Yeah, right.
Aylward was a domestic servant who believed that she had a call from God to become a missionary in China. She was, however, rejected by the official missionary societies because she lacked formal education. Undeterred, she managed to save enough money to buy a ticket on the Trans-Siberian railway, rejecting the quicker and safer alternative of travelling to China by ship because it was more expensive. In China she was accepted as an assistant to an established missionary in the city of Yangcheng. The film chronicles her life in the city, her (fictional) love affair with an officer in the Chinese army and her epic journey across the mountains with a large number of orphaned children to escape the invading Japanese. (The story takes place in the 1930s).
Aylward was still alive when the film was made, and apparently hated it. She objected to the casting of Bergman, not because of the dissimilarity in looks or her accent, but because she considered the actress, who several years earlier had been mired in scandal when she left her husband for Roberto Rossellini, an immoral person. (This scandal had led to Bergman being blacklisted by Hollywood for a time, and her casting here as a virtuous heroine was widely taken as a sign that Hollywood had finally forgiven her). Aylward also objected to the way the film minimised the difficulties she had had crossing the Soviet Union to get to China and to the implication that she had had a romantic relationship with Captain Lin Nan.
The treatment of the Lin Nan episode shows just how strange Hollywood's racial politics could be in the fifties. Lin was a real person, but contrary to the impression given here he was not Dutch on his father's side; this was a detail added to placate American public opinion which would apparently not accept a romance between a white woman and a wholly Asian man but would accept one between a white woman and a Eurasian man if he were played by a white actor. (in this case Curt Jürgens). In 1958 it was still considered politically correct for the British actor Robert Donat to play a Chinese character in "yellowface". You wouldn't get away with that nowadays. There are a number of other inaccuracies- the inn which Aylward ran in Yangcheng was actually named "the Inn of the Eight Happinesses", the number eight being considered auspicious in China, but for some reason this was changed to the "Inn of the Sixth Happiness", hence the title.
And yet this is not altogether a bad film. Bergman might not have been the most appropriate choice to play Aylward, yet she still manages to create the feeling of a truly good person, both compassionate and courageous. Donat gives an excellent performance as the elderly mandarin, a conservative figure who gradually comes to accept the necessity for the changes which Lin Nan and his fellow-reformers are trying to bring about in Chinese society. (The film takes a very positive view of the Kuomintang who ruled China at the time, probably because it was made during the Cold war and they were the avowed enemies of Mao's Communists). This was Donat's last film; he died shortly after it was finished.
Director Mark Robson was nominated for a "Best Director" Oscar, which was not undeserved. The film has its faults, but these generally have little to do with the direction. Robson keeps a firm hand on his material to create a coherent narrative out of what could otherwise have become a rather shapeless film. He was, for example, right to omit details of Aylward's adventures in Russia; the film is quite long enough already, and to have covered these incidents in greater depth would have made it seem overlong and unfocused. He provides a splendidly emotive ending in which Aylward and her young charges march to safety to the strains of "This Old Man". Yes, it might be a bit sentimental, but I defy anyone not to be moved. 7/10