Humoresque - Warner Archive Collection

It's tough for a dame to play second fiddle to a fiddle, but that's just what happens to Helen Wright (Joan Crawford) in Humoresque, one of the most lushly romantic, beautifully produced films of the 1940s. In love with violin virtuoso Paul Boray (John Garfield), Helen, a thrice-married, disgustingly wealthy dipsomaniac, tries her best to compete with Paul's musical passion, but can never quite inch ahead of his Stradivarius. She comes close at times, but Paul's ambition, discipline, and artistic temperament preclude him from fully committing to a serious human relationship...and Helen will accept nothing less. Her sponsorship helps Paul achieve the fame and recognition he has long craved, but every triumph draws him deeper into music and further away from her. Helen could surely handle (and defeat) a female rival, but she can't fight such a powerful abstract force.

Based on Fannie Hurst's tear-jerking story, Humoresque wisely tempers its pathos with a perceptive examination of the life and art of a devoted musician. Previous Hollywood films wildly romanticized the lives of composers and performers, but the Zachary Gold-Clifford Odets screenplay gives us an unvarnished look at the single-minded dedication, selfishness, and brash ego of a great artist. More simplistically, it also suggests there's room for only one true love in a man's heart. For Paul, that love is music, and that deep-seeded emotional pull sets up an unconventional triangle that soon leads Helen down a path of self-destruction.

Though she doesn't say her first line until the 35-minute mark, Crawford dominates Humoresque, filing a controlled, textured, and ultimately heartbreaking portrayal that outshines her Oscar-winning turn in the previous year's Mildred Pierce. Buoyed by the confidence of winning that long-elusive gold statuette, Crawford takes chances in Humoresque, and they pay off. Rarely has she seemed so natural on screen, so believable, and so unlike her patented screen persona. When she lifts her glass during the climactic finale and almost whispers, "Here's to love... and here's to the time when we were little girls, and no one asked us to marry," she exhibits emotion so raw yet so restrained, the moment stands as arguably her finest on celluloid.

Both Crawford and Garfield are masters of non-verbal expression and they convey reams of subtext through their close-ups and reactions. Their chemistry is a bit tepid, but that works in the film's favor, underscoring the futile nature of their affair. While Crawford may have the showier role, Garfield holds his own, bringing his customary swagger and intensity to Paul, yet displaying softer, more emotional accents when "playing" the violin. A young Isaac Stern brilliantly dubs his solos, but Garfield adopts a virtuoso's posture and demeanor, allowing us to successfully suspend our disbelief.

There's a lot of music in Humoresque - some might say too much - but it's all so gloriously performed it's impossible not to be swept away by its beauty or understand how it consumes and nourishes Paul. Rarely has classical music received such a showcase on film, but Negulesco never lets the visuals become static during the many concert and recital sequences. In one of the movie's most riveting scenes, he cuts between Paul in performance and the various people who love him in the audience, focusing on the ecstasy, angst, and deep-seeded concern he inspires. Negulesco's elegant shot compositions also enhance the film (Crawford has never been more exquisitely photographed - despite a veritable mountain of hair), and he constructs a poetic finale that remains a Hollywood classic.

The dialogue by Gold and Odets (one of Broadway's premier playwrights of the 1930s) is also music to the ears. Thoughtful, perceptive, yet never pretentious, it avoids sounding too much like scripted talk and gets to the heart of matters of the heart without gooey ruminations. A fair amount of sarcasm also laces the screenplay, impeccably delivered with sardonic glee by a rumpled, chain-smoking, and utterly delightful Oscar Levant, who also dazzlingly accompanies Paul on the piano. And yes, that really is little Robert Blake (billed here as Bobby) playing Paul as a boy, decades before TV's Baretta and Bonnie Bakely.

At its core, Humoresque reminds us just how fine an actress Joan Crawford could be. When blessed with the right material, a talented co-star, and a sensitive director, she could command the screen like few before her... or since. In this one, she's the real virtuoso.

Vital Disc Stats: The Blu-ray
Humoresque arrives on Blu-ray packaged in a standard case. Video codec is 1080p/AVC MPEG-4 and audio is DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono. Once the disc is inserted into the player, the static menu with music immediately pops up; no previews or promos precede it.

A brand new HD master struck from a 4K scan of the original nitrate camera negative yields a gorgeous 1080p/AVC MPEG-4 transfer that allows us to revel in the beauty of Ernest Haller's lush cinematography. A master craftsman who won an Oscar for Gone with the Wind, Haller lends Humoresque a glossy, rich look that complements the soaring music and deeply emotional story. The natural grain structure remains intact, resulting in a film-like image that boasts superb clarity and contrast and brims with depth. Luscious blacks, vibrant whites, varied grays, and strong shadow delineation produce a balanced picture and stunning close-ups highlight Crawford's signature eyebrows, watery eyes, creamy skin, and even reveal a few faint freckles. Some shots exhibit a murky softness, but all the nicks and marks that afflicted the 2006 DVD have been meticulously erased. This transfer is a substantial improvement over the DVD, making it a must upgrade for Crawford fans.

It's rare that the remastered audio on a Warner Archive disc outclasses the video transfer, but this DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono track does just that. The symphonies and violin solos sound incredibly robust and organic, proving just how potent and room-filling good monaural sound can be. Violins can sometimes sound screechy, especially during more frenetic pieces, but not here. The wide dynamic scale handles the numerous stratospheric high notes without any distortion and the quieter legato passages enjoy marvelous resonance.  And though it's easy to get lost in the music, the literate dialogue of Zachary Gold and Clifford Odets also sounds great, remaining clear and comprehendible throughout. Sonic accents like facial slaps, shattering glass, and crashing waves are distinct and the mild hiss that plagued the DVD has been erased. This is a truly spectacular track that will thrill music lovers with its incredible fidelity and depth of tone.

Warner Archive ports over both extras from the 2006 DVD and adds a couple of classic Bugs Bunny cartoons to the mix.

• Featurette: "The Music of Humoresque" (SD, 9 minutes) - Historian Rudy Behlmer analyzes the film's plot and relates how a then-unknown Isaac Stern was tapped to record the various violin solos, while composer Franz Waxman's son and actor John Garfield's daughter talk about the intricate process of making Garfield look like he was actually playing the instrument. The featurette also includes perspective from various accomplished musicians, who discuss the fiery temperament and intense dedication of serious musicians and how the film's symphonic music was chosen to purposefully underscore, complement, and enhance the story.
• Vintage Cartoon: Racketeer Rabbit (HD, 8 minutes) - Edward G. Robinson and Peter Lorre are parodied in this Bugs Bunny cartoon about a couple of gangsters who disrupt Bugs' rest at an abandoned country estate.
• Vintage Cartoon: Rhapsody Rabbit (SD, 8 minutes) - Bugs returns as a concert pianist whose recital is plagued by a pesky mouse nesting in his Steinway. Creative sight gags abound, but this cartoon lacks the witty repartee we expect from the wascally wabbit.
• Theatrical Trailer (SD, 3 minutes) 

You don't have to love Joan Crawford to love Humoresque - but it helps. Impeccably produced, beautifully photographed, and containing some of the world's most glorious classical music, this absorbing romantic drama tells an emotional story without any syrupy clichés. Crawford contributes one of her best performances and Garfield files another strong, natural portrayal. Warner Archive's 4K scan of the original nitrate camera negative showcases the sumptuous production design, while the glorious remastered audio is truly music to our ears. A few extras top off this highly recommended disc.