a moral out
by
Douglas Messerli
Graham
Greene and Basil Dean (writers, based on a novel by John Galsworthy), Basil
Dean 21 Days (a.k.a. 21 Days Together) / 1940
Basil
Dean’s 1940 film, 21 Days, is
certainly not a great film, and I’ve seen far better Vivien Leigh and Laurence
Olivier performances. Nonetheless this John Galsworthy fiction, rewritten
for screen by
Graham Greene, has some charm, if for nothing in its satiric distinctions between
the loving couple, Larry Durant (Olivier) and Wanda (Leigh), and Larry’s highly
corruptible “good-boy” brother, Keith (Leslie Banks).
Keith, about to be made a judge, has
little difficulty in advising that Larry hide his accidental murder of Wanda’s
former husband, and even advises him to leave the country so that he, himself,
will not become involved. When a local bum is picked up, wearing Larry’s bloody
gloves, and the poor man, Henry Wallen (Esme Percy)—ironically a former
minister of religion—is charged with the crime, the future judge is perfectly
willing to see the man hung.
The no-good Larry, however, truly the
righteous one, is determined to admit his crime before Wallen is tried in 21
days; but first he and Wanda, rather callously, determine to marry and spend a
few days together the innocent man goes to the gallows.
Much of the middle of the movie, while
the two are supposedly enjoying each other’s company, is simply boring. There’s
nothing worse than watching a guilty man trying to find pleasure for a few days
before he is scheduled to die.
One might suggest that Graham is using
the Wallen figure as a kind of Christ, who dies—himself feeling guilty for
having stolen a ring and money off the dead man—so that Larry and Wanda might
continue to live out what they hope will be a long life together. But, of
course, that doesn’t quite explain the selfish brother, more protective of his
career in law than in the law itself. Nor does it explain the quite detestable
behaviors of his cronies, who joke about their own snoring through cases and
past misjudgments.
In short, no one in this film, except
perhaps for the fallen minister of religion—whose career was destroyed by
drinking—is truly likeable. At least we sympathize, for a while, with the
loving couple at the center of the story; but even though Larry is willing to
admit his guilt, in the end, apparently he does not. He has found and accepted
an “out.”
Opening in wartime England, one might
have imagined that the moral high ground might be necessary, and that in a
world where citizens were being killed in nightly blitzes, that leaving a dead
body in a small city lane would be condemned, even if the film was principally
shot in 1937. But perhaps for that very reason, the writer and filmmaker felt
that it worth saving their sinful characters’ lives.
Los Angeles,
January 8, 2017
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