The Man Who Loved Redheads (1955)

Don't listen to the Hype. It's awful

The film creates a perfect balance between action and depth of basic needs, in the midst of an infertile atmosphere.

The story-telling is good with flashbacks.The film is both funny and heartbreaking. You smile in a scene and get a soulcrushing revelation in the next.

The thing I enjoyed most about the film is the fact that it doesn't shy away from being a super-sized-cliche;

The theme of this film,namely a man who has an obsession about redheads was not very original when made.It was particularly common in the forties.Why even The life and death of Colonel Blimp has this as one of its narrative threads. I wonder if the narration by Kenneth More was in the script or added later.It certainlyvdoes little to add to this film.

I confess that my love of the very beautiful redhead Karen Gillan influence me in watching this movie. Wonder if she would be the said redheads in a remake of this movie if one ever gets made in future.The titular man loves redheads as a result of falling in love with one when he was a boy.Throughout his life he sees doppelgangers of this redhead (of course all played by the same redhead Moira Sheara).Included in this movie is a ballet sequence of Sleeping Beauty and a lovely one at that.Although a bit frustrating by what happened in the last scene this has been a very lovely film in this presentation of why, at least for me, the love for redheads is so very beautiful.

As a great admirer of Rattigan I'm delighted that this movie is now available on DVD as I never had a chance to see the original stage production, Who Is Sylvia nor, indeed, this screen adaption. Clearly the three people who have reviewed it here did so without knowledge of the troubled history that led Rattigan to attempt a serious analysis of his father Frank's serial womanising albeit with blondes rather than redheads. Unable to make it work dramatically Rattigan junior turned it into a comedy but was unable to persuade his first choice for leading man, Rex Harrison, to take the role and eventually he settled for Robert Flemying who, though a reasonable journeyman actor lacked Rattigan's gift for light comedy. Although they kept the play going by waiving royalties both Rattigan and producer Binkie Beaumont were forced to admit that the play was a failure so why Rattigan chose to adapt it for the screen and how much, if anything, he changed, remains something of a mystery. As I said at the top of the piece I am pleased to have another Rattigan in my collection but it's doubtful if I'll watch it again.

This is a film based upon Terence Rattigan's play WHO IS SYLVIA, which in turn takes its title from both the original poem by William Shakespeare and its setting to music as a song by Schubert (a song with which my grandfather, a baritone, won much admiration). Rattigan also wrote the screenplay. This is definitely not one of Rattigan's happier moments. The film is ridiculously dated and corny, bordering on a travesty. The story is a simple one: the 'hero' played by John Justin fell in love at first sight at the age of 14 with a girl named Sylvia who had red hair and blue eyes, but he then lost contact with her. For the rest of his life he cheated on his wife and had a mews house in London for trysts with a succession of redheads who reminded him of Sylvia. Pretty silly, really. Harry Andrews plays a butler, Roland Culver has a jolly time playing a pal of Justin's who does the same sort of thing, though not with redheads, Denholm Elliott plays an earnest young son of the older Justin, and Kenneth More does a lively job of satirical narration (we do not see him). Gladys Cooper comes in towards the end with her usual assured style. It is Moira Shearer, seven years on from THE RED SHOES (1948), who plays all the redheads in succession, culminating in one who is a Russian ballet dancer named Olga. As Olga, we watch a great deal of Shearer dancing SLEEPING BEAUTY. Indeed, so much does the camera dwell on Shearer as a dancer, that one nearly forgets the film entirely. (By the way, the set and costume designs for that ballet production are simply appalling, quite a disaster.) This was the last feature film directed by Harold French, who by the way lived to be 100 and died in 1997. He made the excellent UNPUBLISHED STORY thirteen years earlier (1942, see my review). It is a pity that this film is based entirely upon wholly obsolete social codes of a bygone era, that its comedy is tepid, and that it is just not very good.