Set in an English village just as the country enters World War II, the Best Picture-winning Mrs. Miniver stars Greer Garson in the title role, that of a housewife and mother of three who comes to represent the stirring, steadfast heart of the community—if not the nation as a whole.
Garson—who won her only Oscar, out of seven nominations, for her performance—is absolutely wonderful, portraying a woman who wears many, many hats. Kay Miniver is wife to a genial architect (a sturdy Walter Pidgeon, with whom Garson partnered on-screen many times); mother to a college son (Richard Ney) and two tykes; and friendly neighbor to both the village laborers (including Henry Travers’ stationmaster, who has a crush on her) and the aristocracy (May Whitty’s Lady Beldon, who bemoans the rising middle class to which Mrs. Miniver belongs). Despite all of these relationships, Garson never allows Kay Miniver to be defined by them entirely. She has a spirited independence that makes Kay her own person first.
Speaking of hats, there’s a delightful early scene in which Kay, after purchasing an extravagant headpiece while shopping, reveals the splurge at bedtime to her husband, Clem, just as he tells her that he’s bought a new car. The two have such a fun, flirtatious chemistry that you forgive them for essentially wallowing in their wealth (these might be the most likable, privileged people to ever appear on film). Also helping make the moment is the elegant staging and lighting, overseen by director William Wyler and cinematographer Joseph Ruttenberg, giving their bedroom a deep richness while spotlighting Kay’s face as the lights go down, then ending on a chef’s kiss of a silhouette of the hat on Kay’s bed knob.
Harder times are ahead, as Clem joins a nightly village patrol, Vin signs up for the Royal Air Force, and German air raids disrupt daily life (eventually destroying portions of the Minivers’ well-appointed home). Watch Garson in the background of the scene in which Vin announces his intentions to enlist, the way her face subtly falls before she steels herself, resisting the urge to beg him to change his mind. In other scenes she displays a gift for wry comedy (I thought of a milder Lucille Ball), including a great moment when Kay playfully deflates Clem, who had been bragging about joining the rescue effort at Dunkirk, while condescendingly assuring her that housewives are important too. She lets slip a quiet smile, then mentions that just that very morning she had captured a downed German pilot who had absconded to their kitchen. (I love how she strikes up the cigarette she had initially offered to Clem as emphasis.)
Mrs. Miniver—despite its title and Garson’s towering performance—isn’t just a one-woman show, however. Under the direction of Wyler, who is working from a novel by Jan Struther and won a Best Director Oscar for his efforts, this ultimately becomes a portrait of a community. One subplot involves the village’s annual rose “competition,” which carries on despite the bombings. For the first time in the contest’s history, a challenger has entered a rose against Lady Beldon. The upstart is none other than Mr. Ballard, the stationmaster, who has named his specimen after Mrs. Miniver (the flower’s shape recalls her beloved hat). At the awards celebration, Kay quietly convinces Lady Beldon to declare Mr. Ballard the winner—not only warming the old man’s heart, but endearing Lady Beldon to the village in the process and ultimately strengthening the communal fortitude they will all need in the days ahead.
Lest all of this sounds too cheery for a war picture, note that a bombing raid interrupts the celebration. Among the offscreen casualties, we learn later in a cruel aside, is poor Mr. Ballard. There is also a harrowing night that Kay and Clem spend hugging their kids in the bomb shelter that they’ve had to construct in their backyard, as explosions rattle the walls. The final scene takes place in the village’s bombed-out church, where the vicar mourns the dead. His sermon may take too militaristic a turn for my taste, but it’s easy for me to say so from the comfort of a peaceful home front. Were that to ever change, I’d sincerely hope for a Mrs. Miniver in my midst.
(4/2/2024)
