OLD ACQUAINTANCE

New Zealand Listener, Volume 14, Issue 355, 12 April 1946, Page 28

OLD ACQUAINTANCE

(Warner Bros.)

ETTE DAVIS herself seldom lets a film down, but it quite frequently happens that a film lets Bette Davis down. This happens, I think, in Old

Acquaintance. The trouble with so many of her roles, and certainly with this one, is that they require her to go to absurd extremes; she is not allowed to be a normal, natural woman, the kind you can believe ih or would really care to know. Either she is the pathological type who drives her family and friends to drink and suicide, a succubus with soul as black as night, or else (less frequently) she is inhumanly noble and self-sacrificing, shining with an unearthly radiance amid the encircling gloom. In Old Acquaintance her characterisation is of this rarer, or sweetness-and-light, variety. I suppose it is just conceivable that, from a sense of ‘loyalty and high principle, a‘ woman of Miss Davis’ (screen) character would deny the love in her heart and refuse to marry -or even dally with-the husband (John Loder) of her old school friend (Miriam Hopkins). I don’t want to sound cynical about this: if you like I'll amend "just conceivable" to "quite possible." But what I do steadfastly refuse to believe is that anyone as intelligent and independent as Miss Davis is

| supposed to be (she’s the author of an uncomprisingly highbrow novel called ury My Soul, which, though lacking pular success, nevertheless manages to eep her in furs and a stylish wardrobe throughout the story) would remain the faithful and even intimate friend of anybody as scatty and selfish and souldevouring as Miriam Hopkins (who writes popular pot-boilers out of sheer jealousy, and seems to be modelling herself on Billie Burke). So’ loyal and forgiving is Miss Davis that, after two hours of suffering and renunciation, the curice goes down upon these two diametdissimilar types sharing a sofa and a drink and chatting over old tirges with sentimental affection. Candidly, I am of the opinion that this play by John Van Druten is as phoney as they make them, and it says a whole lot for Bette Davis’ quality as an actress that she can keep the story from curling up and dying through sheer weariness; indeed, can even imbue it with enough of her own vitality to make it moderately entertaining. But this film will not do her reputation much good; so, for Miss Davis’ own sake, and at the tisk of repeating what somebody else is almost sure to have said already, I will suggest, now we have seen it, that Old Acquaintance be forgot and _ never brought to mind.