The Ghost and Mrs. Muir - Reflections

It's 5:30 a.m., and I did not go to bed until 1:30 a.m.  I did not have to get up early this morning, but here I am, wide awake.  It is completely dark outside, the crickets are singing, my neighborhood is silent, and that is the time that I start to think and worry about anything difficult that is going on in my life.  At the moment, there is plenty to fret about.  Instead of just letting those thoughts whirl through my brain, I decided to write some thoughts  about a movie I have always loved, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947, starring Gene Tierney and Rex Harrison). I watched it just last night, and it had its usual effect on me - I sighed and cried a lot.  It is beautifully filmed, incredibly romantic, and emotionally moving.  Composer Bernard Herrmann believed the score to be his best work, and even taking into consideration the incredible body of his marvelous work, I agree completely. 

The story of Mrs. Lucy Muir, a widow who rents a house by the English seaside and the ghost of Captain Daniel Gregg who haunts his house is fantasy at its best.  They fall in love, but Mrs. Muir becomes impoverished and in danger of losing her beloved house.  Captain Gregg helps Lucy write a book, his autobiography, the unvarnished tale of a seaman's life.  The book is published, Mrs. Muir is able to buy the house and all seems secure.  Captain Gregg, however, knows there can be no future for Mrs. Muir with him, despite their love, and he vanishes from her life, telling her as she sleeps that it has all just been a dream - "...and it will die, as all dreams must die upon waking."  I think I need another handkerchief.  Mrs. Muir meets a dashing scoundrel (George Sanders, the most charming scoundrel of all), and ends up alone in her house with her only family in the world, little daughter Anna (young Natalie Wood) and faithful servant Martha (the wonderful Edna Best).  The years pass, with the rolling ocean as the symbol of time, and Mrs. Muir grows old.  One night she dies quietly in her chair, and Captain Gregg comes back for her.  She takes his hands and stands up, young and beautiful again.  They walk side by side into the mist to the incredible music of Bernard Hermann.  How can you help sobbing like a child?

So I called my sister Amy, certainly a sucker for romance herself, but more pragmatic than I.  I wanted to know why this widow, with no apparent income except the royalties from one book, was able to keep her beautiful cottage by the sea for 50 years until her death.  Considering the life changes I am going through right now, it just didn't seem fair.  Amy said simply, "Becky, it's a movie."  Uh oh, reality came crashing down.  Our conversation had me laughing until my throat hurt.  We talked about how on earth she could have kept an old house by the sea, with wood that would warp, large lawn to mow, a servant that logically should be paid a salary (although you got the impression that Martha did all that work just for love), and a growing daughter to feed and send through school.  Not to mention that the kid was never around to bother her or get under her feet while the romances were going on.  All of that upkeep had to be done by someone, and they had to be paid, right?  How? Can one book finance an entire life?  Then the final blow -- the beauty of the love she always remembered as a dream and the reunion of the two lovers at the end.  Amy said, "Becky, that woman spent her life standing on a balcony looking at the sea for 50 years!"  She has a good point.  In the movie, 50 years goes by in about 5 minutes with the technique of the rolling sea.  In reality, it would be pretty boring.  My sister Amy was just what I needed last night!

Now, movie-lovers, don't descend upon me like an angry mob with torches and pitchforks for this little reflection.  I have loved The Ghost and Mrs. Muir all of my life and know it by heart.  I will always love it and cry every time with the wistful wish that life was really like that.  But as I wrote in my introduction to my site, movies have been a big part of who I am, for good or ill.  Sometimes it can have a negative side if you dive too deeply into the fantasy of it all.  I'm not worried though.  I will always have my sister to understand and pull me back down from the clouds when I float too high up.  I consider that to be the best of both worlds.