Olivia de Havilland: It Is All In Her Eyes

My goodness gracious, her eyes...

I will have to admit that one of the main physical features that attracts me to a woman is her eyes. It is something I can't describe in detail because I still can't think of the right words to describe why they, really, intoxicate me with the jitters and a warm smile. Maybe it is the raw display of what really is going on with the individual emotionally. I don't know, but what I do know is that I have fallen - hard - under the spell of the great classic screen actress, Olivia de Havilland. I mean look at her eyes. The roundness of them seem to underline the illustrious size. Coupled with the soft, round cheeks, her disposition is so elegantly expressed in all of her films she graced in. Her standard physiognomy seems to be that of serenity and unbounded care, almost a motherly figure. Whenever I watch her films I stick to her face in every scene like a magnet. I watch those eyes with the cheeks in the peripheral, so to speak. I watch them as they react to the world she lives in. What makes me so excited to watch Olivia's performances are the dynamics of the eyes. If her words and the rest of her physicality do not always exhibit her true feelings, her eyes certainly do. This is not a description of passivity. No, she uses her eyes as an instrument to  get what she wants, to express a strength and utility that the other characters look up to. I find all of this attractive, and whenever I see a medium shot of her and look into her eyes my insides turn into mush and I feel the spell she has cast once again...but I'll say it is a spell worth having. Oh, yes indeed.

In other words, I have a schoolboy crush on Olivia de Havilland...

Having said that, though, I will try my best to illustrate why she is one of the greatest of all classic screen actresses as analytically as possible, but I will say already that it will not be perfect in those regards; I can't ignore my affection for a wonderful artist while I am trying to find every facet that contributes to her unique acting. Moreover, I do not always discuss films through the filmography of an actor/actress; this is the first. So let us begin.

To begin my discussion, using her eyes as the launchpad, we must first go to the film she may be most remembered for, and one of the most popular films of all time, Gone With the Wind. This 1939 film is the quintessential melodrama of fiery passions and epic scope. Underneath the melodramatic narrative construction lies a war film, a character study, sociopolitical themes, and gender studies. But, the engine that drives this film is the passionate exchanges of fragmented love. It is what makes this film so watchable after all these years and despite a distancing gap in time between the dramatic classic film of Hollywood's golden era and of contemporary times. These passionate exchanges of fragmented love refer to the four main characters of the story, performed by one of the great ensemble casts: Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O'Hara, Clark Gable as Rhett Butler, Leslie Howard as Ashley Wilkes, and Olivia as Melanie Wilkes.

It is crucial to note that GWTW is anything but a standard romantic flick. In fact, I was speaking about it to some friends and one of them unabashedly remarked that it is really only a classic chick flick. However, the film is overtly depressing, with its focal point positioned on a chaotic love and, yes, sexual relationship as well as the depressing and devastating setting of the Civil War. In addition, having the protagonist be overtly unfaithful as well as stepping away from every sort of modern chick flick cliche during the course of the three and a half hours (which, to say the least, is far beyond an adequate running time for a chick flick because those sorts of films would never give that much time for character development) carries much more weight than a, "Valentine's Day." The film is dark, the dialogue, in great classic Hollywood fashion, is piercing, witty, passionate, and sometimes raw, enunciating the wickedness of Scarlett, the destruction that is Rhett, the insatiability of Ashley, and, of course, the pain of Melanie. This is supreme melodrama, but melodrama does not equate to the sentimentality used in today's shallow films. In the days of GWTW, it evoked passion.

That miniature rant has a point, I promise. It is suffice to say that the combination between Rhett, Scarlett, and Ashley contribute to the demise of Melanie through their mutual infidelity, hatred, and anguish. The former three characters all have qualities that are nothing short of destructive: Scarlett's infatuation with Ashley blinds her with hatred towards Melanie spawns a resulting hatred for Rhett during their marriage. Rhett's headstrong and idealized sensibilities towards Scarlett and his rumbling internalized anguish for his past let loose at the end of the film; and Ashley and his meager disposition renders him helpless and passive as he always looks back at the Old South in such a way that he still foolishly believes that he can retain such experiences while trying to withhold a rusted sense of chivalry towards his secret love in Scarlett. The conglomeration of such flaws physically tear down Melanie slowly but surely and in several pivotal scenes, Olivia de Havilland effortlessly embodies a woman who absorbs the hardships of others because what is inside of her is far stronger that how she appears outside. Olivia presents Melanie as a delicate figure, whose movements are characterized by gentleness so as not to physically hurt others. When we are first introduced to her (shown in the still frame above), Olivia turns around and glides toward the camera echoing a ballet. At the crux of such a movement and after Ashley has announced to Melanie from off the frame that Scarlett has arrived, Olivia so gently reiterates Scarlett's name, as if she is afraid that enunciating it too boldly will be detrimental to Scarlett. Rhythmically beautiful, this introduction is a subtle yet powerful first impression that skillfully highlights a gracefulness in the character of Melanie that will soon disintegrate. Yet, this sort of craft could only be done by someone who understands the complexity of such a character and is not afraid to restrain such intense facets in a melodramatic framework.

Consider a single shot from one scene (left), the scene where, after Scarlett gets jumped by Union soldiers in a shanty town, Rhett, Ashley, and other men strike back by attacking the shanty town. After fooling the Union police, it is revealed that Ashley was shot during this whole escapade. He is quickly taken to a bed to lie down and be taken care of. In a glorious shot, where Rhett and Ashley appear within the same frame (something that happens rarely in the course of 233 minutes), we see the nature of each of the four main characters in spatial and physical relation to one another. Olivia's Melanie is the active agent as well as the pivot point of the shot, essentially lassoing all the other characters together. Scarlett stands in the extreme foreground, not in focus. Her mind is drenched in thoughts of Ashley but she remains disconnected by the turmoil surrounding her. Rhett, after explaining the story to Melanie, professes his unworthiness to her as if she is the only one he can't hide his past from. And then there is Ashley, lying helplessly on the bed, completely passive. Superficially, this shot has nothing to do with de Havilland and her performance, really, but it was such a great shot to discuss that it only furthers my point about how these characters function within the narrative.

Let us now look upon the scene in which Scarlett is forced by Rhett to attend Ashley's birthday party after she and Ashley were discovered swooning over each other earlier that day. In harsh humor, Rhett also forces Scarlett to wear the most risque dress in her wardrobe, setting up a confrontation that Scarlett would

surely think is (socially) fatal between her and Melanie. Of course, knowing Melanie's selflessness, this doesn't happen and instead Melanie takes the hand of Scarlett and takes her to greet the other guests. But, more importantly, regard the face Olivia uses in this scene, shown at right. Her face has a slight hint of austerity but maintains a noticeable reverence, especially when she begins to take Scarlett around. It is her eyes, though, where the pain lies. Her internalization of the conflicts around her begin with the eyes, where there always seems to be some underlining sadness. Emotional strength translates into a facade of physical strength, as shown by the tracking shot as Melanie approaches Scarlett, but, again, the eyes show a weariness that cannot be hidden. Olivia creates one of the great facades in classic Hollywood. It is elegantly derived from her using the ambiguity of Melanie's limitless love for Scarlett, who most certainly seems to be going out of her way to make people respect a person who really doesn't deserve respect. In fact, her disposition becomes slightly hostile when she looks upon the distasteful faces of the other guests at the birthday party. As a viewer, we wonder why Melanie does this and Olivia's performance never makes this wonderment clear by restraining the rest of her face which is why it is so brilliantly done.

This leads us to the end of the film, where the cynicism of the other characters finally destroys her. Melanie ends up being the mediator to the marriage struggle of Rhett and Scarlett, a struggle with vicious hatred and abhorrence to life, itself. Her physical facade is breaking down. Again, her eyes, which were once underpinned by a sullen sadness, now reek of devastation. Olivia has a notable physical characteristic that I'm sure the makeup artists used to their advantage -soft folds under her eyes (see below) that either add to her gentleness or, in this case, amplify her pain. It is also worth noting that her movement does not exhibit the same balletic grace as before. When she walks up the stairs in Scarlett's home as Mammy unloads on a series of tragedies upon her, it is as if she literally becomes encumbered by travesty that hinders her capability to walk. I love the way Olivia plays this scene. We hear the dark news of Rhett and Scarlett in the forefront but we can't help but feel pain for Melanie because Olivia treats this scene as a tragic oppression upon her character, who has up until now withstood all calamities with emotional prowess.

Melanie dies and for what? Wikipedia says it was because Melanie was going to have another baby. Correct me if I am wrong, but I don't think that is mentioned at all in the film. Nevertheless, I like to think, rather blissfully...and don't take this the wrong way, that she died because of other's sins. Interestingly, the character of Melanie is in no way a representation of some religious theme or a Messianic symbol, but it makes sense that her death can be contributed to the viciousness between the other three characters. Again, this sort of interpretation has everything to do with the way Olivia approached this role. She manages to balance out gentleness, emotional power, agency, frailty, and sorrow, all without overexposing any of these facets. Moreover, she does not create a character that is black and white, nor does it remain consistently flat. No, Olivia's performance ignites our curiosity as to what motivates her, but we are left only with observation of her actions (which counts, too). I remember my first time watching this film, which was quote recent, unfortunately. I came out of it regarding this actress who I did not know well at the time, in a manner that made me say to myself, "Wow, she is the tragic figure of this darkly melodramatic film."

This was the film that got me to notice her. From here on out I sought more and more films she was involved with. At that point, I was more curious about her versatility as an actress. I was unaware that she was involved in one of Hollywood's most famous onscreen couples, pairing with Errol Flynn in a series of lavish swashbucklers in the 1930s, the zenith being the classic The Adventures of Robin Hood. I was a bit skeptical before seeing this film, mostly due to my naive ignorance that the lady who gave such an astounding and tragic performance in an epic melodrama could be a passive damsel in distress for a super-saturated masculine man. My ignorance numbed my intelligence yet as I watched The Adventures of Robin Hood not only enjoyed it, but found it to be one of the most fun films I have seen in recent memory. Olivia inhabits her role with playful grace, matching the charm and wit of her leading man. Intriguingly, her role is not traditionally passive but more of what I like to call passive active. Her role within the historical context of the film's setting forces her to be immobile to a large extent, but she always makes her presence felt and she always bests many of the men who carry greater power. It is worth noting that in Robin Hood, Errol and Olivia's characters save each other when they are in danger.


In their first film together, Captain Blood, she heralds an enthusiastic spirit that seems so perfect for a film drenched in adventurous lore. While many other actresses at the time were advancing their career by playing naughty and seething characters, Olivia de Havilland shined by playing the nice girl. But what made it even more impressive was that in these films with Errol Flynn she was believable. Her characters held this sense of truthfulness that transcended the standard melodramatic touch. Much of this has to do with the flawless connection she made with Errol, with their relationship exuding a pleasant amount of lightheartedness. This makes sense because, intriguingly, Olivia has said that for the longest time she had a crush on the gallant leading man. She chose not to appease that crush stating that it would most certainly distract their professional careers. That's a bold move if I ever did see one, and a respectful one at that. Nevertheless, the chemistry between the two is marvelous and Olivia's presence as the love interest in these swashbucklers added a welcoming dose of joviality, most certainly reinforcing the timelessness of these films. Alas, I will say that, physically, this sort of authentic joviality is most certainly attributed to her, well, eyes. Again, like I stated when discussing Gone With the Wind, there is a sense of gentleness but at the same time emotional dignity and strength. Or maybe another way to describe it is potent bliss. It is a great counterpart to the masculinity of Errol's characters but it is more crucial because it leads to the intersection of their relationship, and why their characters always seem right when they get together. Her eyes, those round vibrant eyes, express such camaraderie.

Though, if you were wondering, Olivia is capable of acting without gentleness and with a sort of, shall we say, chaos. In the 1948 film, The Snake Pit, Olivia takes on the role of a character who spends many years in a mental institution, with most of the time not realizing she is in a mental institution. Her performance is chaotic as she embodies a women with schizophrenia, high doses of paranoia, and a stringent disconnect with reality. The context of this film is quite interesting as well. The Snake Pit is one of the first films that tackles not just the lack of awareness of mental disorders but also the deprivation the mental patients are subjected to in the degraded institutions they are thrown in. By today's standards, it could seem quite tame and slightly misinformed, but I feel it holds its ground, especially surrounding the topic of mental disorder awareness. In many ways, its sense of bringing humanity to such issues is on par with another masterpiece, that of the 1963 film, The Miracle Worker (albeit this film doesn't match the incomparable rawness of the Arthur Penn film). Olivia tackles a character that, at first, seems very different from her previous outings but, in a more careful comparison to the character of Melanie Wilkes, we see that in this 1948 film, her character, Virginia, exhibits a similar frailty. Frailty is masked by desperation and in this film. We directly feel this desperation through the widened eyes of Olivia. Her reality is always in question so her eyes become, well, they become interpreters of such a reality, except from time to time they become unreliable interpreters. Reality through her eyes is rendered under the powerful dominance of paranoia. The frailty I spoke of earlier comes through in Virginia's frantic physicality, displaying a disposition that might snap at any moment.

A year later, Olivia brought home her second Oscar for the role of Catherine Sloper in William Wyler's fantastic and surprising melodrama, The Heiress. I watched this for the first time recently and I was surprised at its deliberation to invert itself while remaining in a conventional melodramatic framework. This inversion, mainly focused on tone and (intriguingly) gender roles, has Olivia's character in the center and what transpires is a dramatic shift in how Catherine views her world and how Olivia treats this shift. It is glorious, to say the least, as well as shocking. Olivia's Catherine starts off with unabridged naivety and social ineptitude, and there is an early scene at a party where she dances with pristine awkwardness. She dances not as if she is trying to gracefully woo a gentleman but as if she is in a social survival game, one that requires detaching seriousness. Her whole ordeal at the party is one of mechanical meagerness and clumsiness. In addition, before she dances, she almost forgets to put down her cup, and looking at it while the gentleman looks on blankly, her expression of, "How in the world did that get there?" is priceless. Having said that, Olivia's vibrancy comes through in a dichotomy of stares; stares that define the stark mental state her Catherine is in after continuously being manipulated by the men around her. This is formally shown in the two intensely different halves of the film's narrative. The first half of the film, with the party scene, features Olivia and the naïve stare, filled with innocence and anxiety. The second half of the film features Olivia and the austere stare (or the, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," face to use a pun). The shift is made over the course of the film and again her eyes are the starting point to discern the difference. In watching this film for the first time, her rare movement in the second half of the film suggested a remnant of her meager self but I watched her eyes as her father began to talk to her about his illness. It is a face of resignation to any emotional investment in the men who destroyed her soul, including her father, to put it bluntly, since she uses the same face to turn away from the desperate Morris Townsend (played very well by the then rising star, Montgomery Clift).

With the raising of the eyebrows and the slight rising of the eyelids, we see a substantial change between Catherine over the duration of the film, expressing a cynical sort of character arc. If only I could show footage from this film, because the overall performance, her movement, is quite intriguing to behold. The Heiress is an amazing piece of melodrama, one of the best, if I may say. Her strong and unpredictable performance creates unease that you don't find of much in films of that time. One can think of it as an antithesis to Olivia's Melanie Wilkes, and she presents this case very convincingly. Yet, familiarity is induced through the nuance of her characters' facets and developments. Catherine Sloper and Melanie Wilkes invoke a potent combination of weakness and strength, of being oblivious while also weathering a storm of mental hardships. Olivia has an almost calculating interest in the way in which these sorts of characters will function under tumultuous scenarios, and lo and behold both The Heiress and Gone With the Wind present us with that sort of narrative construction. Where as Melanie had a façade of strength built around her that gave way towards the end, Catherine built up an austere shell towards the end. Ambiguity lurks among both characters as well. During the final and painful scene in The Heiress, her eyes widen with tension and release themselves as she walks past the front door, where on the other side is Morris. Walking up the stairs she completes her austere self with the austere face. Is she really happy with what she is doing? Who knows? Looking at these two characters in these two films in this sort of way, I can see how they relate and why she is so powerful in each of these performances.

I don't know, maybe this is just a very long rant on why I think Olivia de Havilland is a beautiful women and my silly crush, but I can't help but talk and talk and talk...(or type, actually). Yet, there is an appeal that strikes me that goes beyond her heavenly eyes. I realized she never played a seductress (or at least most of her roles never comprised of that) and her greatest performances are from characters that are far from being flat and passive. There always seems to be a genuine grace that surrounds her and when she knowingly throws that away, like in The Snake Pit, it doesn't come to us as a bothersome trope, but rather as attractive curiosity. She was an actress for her time and she mastered the melodrama, probably part of the reason why she was cast in many of the eras greatest and most original melodramas. It is not like Olivia de Havilland is not one of the more famous classic screen actresses. In fact, I will say that she does not come close in popularity to the likes of Katherine Hepburn, Barbara Stanwyck, Lauren Bacall, or Claudette Colbert. She doesn't have the incomparable charm of Hepburn (who runs a close second as my favorite), the sex appeal of Stanwyck, or the mysterious gaze of Bacall. I guess I find her position in Hollywood more professional (eh, I don't even understand it, really).

I guess it is finally safe to say, though, that my excitement for watching her on film has risen exponentially on the account that she is actually still alive. As the last surviving member of the main cast of Gone With the Wind, Olivia de Havilland is living in Paris ninety-seven years young. Like Ray Bradbury before, who unfortunately past away around this time last year, it becomes one of those scenarios where I continuously think to myself that I still have a chance to see her...I mean I do...it is just that going to Paris is not an easy thing for me to do and it breaks my heart thinking about it. Nevertheless, I retain my strength, as well as the happiness that she is still alive as a fortunate and caring human being while also being a gateway to a history never to be repeated, a time machine if you will (in reference to Bradbury's short story, if you will, again...). Moreover, along with the idea of seeing her, is the admiration for living that long of a life that has been so rewarding and exciting. I can only hope for that same treatment, but I must be stronger in many regards before I can think about that. Watching her films gives me much exhilaration for classic cinema, cinema in general, in fact. Her characters, despite being so tragic and so vitalizing with passion and intense emotions, have always imbued within them something you can't quite grasp and understand. It is beauty in craft and beauty in form, pure and unadulterated, with her only blemish- a severe, almost lifelong fight between her younger sister, Joan Fontaine (who is still living as well!). Of course, something like that doesn't hinder my appreciation for her work in film. Her mere existence onscreen makes up for any blemishes. But let's not kid ourselves here...

...it all started with those eyes.

Here are the essential films of Olivia de Havilland. I recommend all of these not just for fantastic performances by Olivia but also for exposure to the great melodramas classic swashbucklers:

Captain Blood (1935)

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Gone With the Wind (1939)

Hold Back the Dawn (1941)

To Each His Own (1946)

The Snake Pit (1948)

The Heiress (1949)

edited by Peter Berris