How well is René Clair's mid-Thirties film The Ghost Goes West now known?
In order to make it, Clair himself went northwards, as well as westwards, from France to direct this Anglo-American production. It opens in eighteenth-century Scotland where a feud between two Clans duly reverberates in a (then) present day which finds the descendant (Robert Donat) hard pressed to maintain a castle which survived a family honour lost upon the battlefield all those decades ago.
This might sound a working definition of hokum. Far from it. Of course, it is preposterous, and all the more so when an American millionaire is prevailed upon by his charming daughter to buy the castle (and attendant ghost) in order to pay off the chorus of debts which Donat has entailed upon it.
Little do those Scotsmen realise that their paying off will necessitate the transporting of the castle brick by brick across the Atlantic – and, as for what happens after, it is not the place of this piece to say any more.
Except that the enjoyment to be had from all this was highlighted at the time by Graham Greene (a film reviewer who was not easily pleased).
Did he but know it, Greene's review (with its cogent echoes of Elsinore) anticipated Ealing. “I have never believed more firmly in Clair's genius than I did during this film. The silly story, the gross misuse of Clair's peculiar qualities, were forgotten in my admiration for his camera sense. In no other film this year has there been the same feeling of mobility, of visual freedom. And the actors responded with unforced lightheartedness.”
In our digital age, the flickerings which are the stuff of the ghost's arrival and departure might seem small beer (perhaps one should say whisky, a commodity which finds a natural place in the narrative); and yet these draw one into – yes – what amounts to a transatlantic take upon that endlessly re-weavable plot which is Romeo and Juliet, here given a tartan hue.
This made me laugh - especially the in-jokes about differences between Brits and Americans. There is a superb sequence featuring the House of Lords and the US Congress which shows how Brits can laugh as ourselves and our country.
Some 1935 special effects complete with toy model ships and all shot in the UK.
But fun, and a comedy that made me laugh - unlike most TV and movie comedies now.
4 stars.
Brief shaggy dog story about a haunted Scottish castle which is bought by a brash American and transported to Florida, forcing its weary ghost to cross the Atlantic too. Having grown tired of a spectral existence it must adapt to the New World, as a tourist attraction promoting a supermarket chain.
Robert Donat plays the apparition, and also its living descendent who falls in love with the daughter (Jean Parker) of the tycoon (Eugene Pallette) who bought the ancestral home. Donat is always worth watching, though he is more convincing as the disillusioned phantom (in traditional Scottish dress) than the romantic suitor.
Jean Parker, more usually cast in westerns, is appealingly perky in romantic support. The film contrasts old world traditions with the aggressive commerciality of twentieth century America, but not really with much depth. It's a light screwball fantasy. Whatever complexity the film conveys derives from Donat's innate gravity.
René Clair is remembered for his films of dreamy make believe. This is less substantial than most and there is far more whimsy than laughs. But there is an atmospheric production, decent effects and Clair conjures a little magic among the longueurs. And Donat brings dignity to the frivolity, despite having to say 'och-aye'!