I'm probably one of the few people not overly impressed with this movie, despite the excellent performances by Bette Davis and George Brent. I was okay with the first part of the movie, which made sense. A free spirited (as well as spoiled) heiress is confronted with something she can't control: a brain tumor. She rebels against her death sentence by defying it and running wild, hurt and angry at both the doctor she fell in love with and her best friend, for keeping the the from her. She nearly succumbs to the charms of Humphrey Bogart (I know I would have, he looked real hot to me), but then finds she can't deny her love for George Brent. They get married, even though they know she most likely won't live to celebrate their first anniversary.
Here's what I have the problem with: her too complete turnaround from defiant, rebellious heiress to sweet, accepting housewife, forsaking mansion for cottage and racing horses for household chores. She's no longer fighting her death sentence, but instead is accepting it "beautifully". WTF!!! That was Doc's idea, easy for him to say, since he's not the one about to croak, and, from what the story hints, he'll be a grieving widower for a time and then find happiness with Geraldine Fitzgerald, the BFF who's clearly in love with him. Bury Bette and life goes on.
And that melodramatic nonsense, about how she'll feel just fine, until all of a sudden a sunny day will look cloudy, and then in a few minutes she'll croak. She's so brave about it when the time comes (I'd be pissed as hell, if I were as wealthy as she was and married the guy I adored), she sends hubby off on his business trip, continues working in her garden, asks her friend to take care of both her husband and her horses, pets her dogs, somehow makes her way up the stairs without falling on her ass, then literally lies down and dies. Come on, too much Victorian melodrama for a 1930's movie! If anybody believed that hoke they deserve to be conned out of their life savings by the old pigeon drop.
And pigeon poop is how I feel about the last part of the movie, from the time she wed to the time she dead. That's why it's only 5 out of 10 stars.
Here's what I have the problem with: her too complete turnaround from defiant, rebellious heiress to sweet, accepting housewife, forsaking mansion for cottage and racing horses for household chores. She's no longer fighting her death sentence, but instead is accepting it "beautifully". WTF!!! That was Doc's idea, easy for him to say, since he's not the one about to croak, and, from what the story hints, he'll be a grieving widower for a time and then find happiness with Geraldine Fitzgerald, the BFF who's clearly in love with him. Bury Bette and life goes on.
And that melodramatic nonsense, about how she'll feel just fine, until all of a sudden a sunny day will look cloudy, and then in a few minutes she'll croak. She's so brave about it when the time comes (I'd be pissed as hell, if I were as wealthy as she was and married the guy I adored), she sends hubby off on his business trip, continues working in her garden, asks her friend to take care of both her husband and her horses, pets her dogs, somehow makes her way up the stairs without falling on her ass, then literally lies down and dies. Come on, too much Victorian melodrama for a 1930's movie! If anybody believed that hoke they deserve to be conned out of their life savings by the old pigeon drop.
And pigeon poop is how I feel about the last part of the movie, from the time she wed to the time she dead. That's why it's only 5 out of 10 stars.