. . . so, to celebrate Ms. Davis' 100th birthday, we watched this John Huston movie (his followup to THE MALTESE FALCON) which arrived as part of the latest Warner Davis set; I must say this one is a must see for anyone who loves her work and is willing to watch her "overact" in what some would consider a camp performance for the ages - as it says on the back of the case in what proves to be an understatement, the film is a "watchable brew of deceit, racial bigotry, latent incest and violent death", pretty much everything the Production Code was put in place to police, and Ms. Davis is involved in all of it . . . the rest of the cast is actually kept in check (Olivia de Havilland gives one of her best performances), with the exception of Uncle Charles Coburn who cannot seem to keep his hands off his niece, Bette Davis, whenever he sees her; she, of course, responds with gusto . . . one thing really odd about the script (well, another thing) is the fact the sisters played by Davis and de Havilland are named Stanley and Roy, you know, these usually seem to boys names, but it is never remarked upon or explained. . . well, anyway, if you are in the mood for Ms. Davis playing full blast in a movie of high melodrama (with a stab at timely social significance), this is the one for you . . . oh, Huston's direction is its usual excellent self, with a touch of pre-noir lighting now and then to add to the mix . . .

James Baldwin writes about this film in his book about movies, The Devil Finds Work, arguably the best book about film I've read by an author who didn't normally write about films. (Gore Vidal's Screening History is another.)

Here's his opening paragraph on it:
"In 1942, Bette Davis, under the direction of John Huston, delivered a ruthlessly accurate (and much underrated) portrait of a southern girl in...In This Our Life. She thus became, and, indeed, remained, the toast of Harlem because her prison scene with the black chauffeur was cut when the movie came uptown. The uproar in Harlem was impressive, and I think that the scene was reinserted; in any case, either uptown or downtown, I saw it. Davis appeared to have read, and grasped the script--which must have made her rather lonely--and she certainly understood the role. Her performance had the effect, rather, of exposing and shattering the film, so that she played in a kind of vacuum..."

Baldwin goes on to describe the scene, in which Davis tries to persuade her jailed chauffeur (Ernest Anderson), a college student and the son of the family's maid (Hattie McDaniel), to take the rap for a hit-and-run that she's responsible for, and how this scene offered up a "devastating example" of "the white descent from dignity" and is the kind of thing that informs the old black lyric, "I can't believe what you say, because I see what you do."

. . . actually Mr. Baldwin's memory is a bit off here as Mr. Anderson is actually a young man who is working in a family friend's law office (the fellow is a whilte civil right-oriented lawer who was supposed to marry Ms. Davis and is now engaged to Ms. de Havilland) on his way to becoming a lawyer himself (which is a big step in that time and place - I'm not sure if he was a college student, or "reading law" as people used to do) - to make extra money, he does jobs for the family (his mother has worked for them for years and years, and he worked in a store with de Havilland), including taking the car to wash and polish now and then . . . there is another great Davis line in the film - when the fellow's lawyer tells her that Anderson's mother, Hattie McDaniel, says he was home with her at the time of the accident, she says, "Well, you know how they lie for each other when one of them gets into trouble" . . . the prison scene Mr. Baldwin describes is very powerful indeed . . .