A Brilliant Conflict

I saw this movie before reading any reviews, and I thought it was very funny. I was very surprised to see the overwhelmingly negative reviews this film received from critics.

Yes, absolutely, there is fun to be had, as well as many, many things to go boom, all amid an atmospheric urban jungle.

The film's masterful storytelling did its job. The message was clear. No need to overdo.

Another director Douglas Sirk's melodrama in this 1956 beautifully realized movie.Taken for granted and ignored, Cliff (Fred MacMurray) discovers an old flame, Barbara Stanwyck, who worked with him but left 20 years ago as she loved him and saw no future.There is his eldest son who accidentally sees the two of them at a resort and immediately assumes that something is going on along with his older sister.Joan Bennett is the caring wife who is wrapped up in her children.As always, Stanwyck shines here and this time she sheds her potential vicious acting and instead is a wholesome woman who reminds MacMurray that his infatuation with her is a reliving of his past and is something that could never be.This is pure soap-opera, but beautifully done and the ending holds the high ground of morality and decency.

Pasadena toy manufacturer Fred MacMurray (as Clifford "Cliff" Groves) is wealthy and successful, but feels neglected by his busy family. His children are preoccupied with their own lives and loving wife Joan Bennett (as Marion) always finds herself committed to something other than time with Mr. MacMurray. He feels ignored, unappreciated and lonely. Enter former employee Barbara Stanwyck (as Norma Miller-Vale). Formerly plain, but now an attractive dress designer, Ms. Stanwyck arrives in Los Angeles on business. She's clearly interested in rekindling something with MacMurray...The best part here is that "There's Always Tomorrow" has director Douglas Sirk working in the 1950s, with his best photographer Russell Metty. This means artful shadows, stairways, windows and reflections. Such visuals, especially as they complement the story, are great. There is even a scene with Stanwyck's face shedding tears that are actually reflected raindrops; a technique said to have originated with "In Cold Blood" (1967). Quite possibly, this was done even earlier...The cast is strangely unimpassioned. MacMurray and Stanwyck lack the level of spark they conveyed in previous collaborations. Perhaps this is the point. MacMurray has become like the toy robot he created. He's "Rex" the walkie-talkie mechanical man. Stanwyck appears to be hesitating an attempted seduction. While not the protagonist, she becomes the most interesting character. Completely and most maddeningly in the dark, Ms. Bennett acts robotically unaware of the threat to her supposedly perfect family life. Shaking things up is suspicious and literate son William Reynolds (as Vinnie).******* There's Always Tomorrow (1/20/56) Douglas Sirk ~ Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, Joan Bennett, William Reynolds

Virtually unknown among Sirk's catalog, which is reasonably when you consider his classic films like 'All That Heaven Allows' and 'Imitation of Life.' But for a film this good to have not seen a DVD release is criminal. I had the good fortune of being able to see this gem at a public screening this week. This is easily one of the best films to come out of the studio era. The film concerns Clifford Grove (Fred MacMurray) a toy developer, whose family neglects him. His wife bails out on their plans constantly, for the children, and the children pay no attention to their loving father. Clifford runs into an old flame, who is back in town and begins to innocently spend some time with her while she's in town. But his sneaky children become suspicious of his activities and start to follow him, his son begins to convince his siblings that their father is having in affair. Their begin to psychological torment their father and ultimately drive him to desire leaving his family. It's painfully dark, and Fred MacMurray is brilliant. The psychological effect on the viewer is tremendous. It's dark and hopeless. If children were shown this on the advent of puberty, no one would ever get married. The stark black and white cinematography is always telling more than the story, with sneaky, sweeping pans and dollies the film keeps you guessing the duration. It's the kind of backhanded studio film, that was rarely produced, where the director gives the audience only ambiguities for resolution, cyclical images void of hope for Clifford, but ambiguous enough to get by censors at the studio, enough to imply that maybe things turned out for old Clifford. This is studio-era cinema at it's best. If you get a chance to catch a screening of it on the new 35mm that is, supposedly, circulating art-house cinemas around the U.S., go. It's a shame that it is not more widely available, a radiant film from the 50s (though troubled and moderately sexist, symptomatic of the time period, but not so blatant that it can't be overlooked in the same way that critics can overlook the racism in 'Birth of a Nation').

Sirk aptly deals with basic family values and problems in a critical way, questioning the false appearance of stability and harmony of a typical American home. MacMurray's job in a toy factory provides plenty of interesting metaphors, often visual ones. In one scene Sirk even places 'Rex, the Walkie-Talkie Robot-Man' on the foreground, upstaging MacMurray and forcing a comparison between them. MacMurray's home, under the resemblance of a happy and harmonious family life, really seems like a big doll's house – MacMurray being here a sort of male 'Nora'. The happy ending seems a bit awkward or phony, but it's what audiences were taught to expect back in the 50's; no other ending would have been allowed under the infamous Production Code, then still being enforced.