Frieda remains
a strong example of a film from Ealing’s back catalogue that challenges the
tried and tested community and ‘projecting Britain’ approaches that have
dominated discussions of the studio. Part of the creatively rich 1947-51 period
in Ealing’s fortunes, Frieda is a curious
film that complicates any simple notion of what Ealing was about, and the idea
they excelled at safe or restrained filmmaking.
The film follows escaped British POW Robert Dawson (David
Farrar) and German girl Frieda (Mai Zetterling), and moves quickly from their marriage
in a bombed-out church in Poland to their return to the apparently genteel English
setting of Denfield. Although the violence of war underpins the film, the story
is more interested in the violent emotions caused by an enemy ‘invading’ a
quiet English town, and the shifting acceptance of Frieda herself. While Robert
says early on that Denfield is a ‘pleasant, peaceful spot’, he is wrong when he
predicts there is ‘nothing to be frightened of’ there. While it occasionally
pulls its punches and lurches into melodrama near the end, Frieda remains a fascinating look at anti-German feeling,
particularly given the film was released within two years of the end of the war
in Europe, when such feelings would have been recent and widespread.
In one sense, then, this is a bookend to Ealing’s war
films, a reflection on Went the Day Well?
(1943), where the undercover German squad was defeated by a village community
pulling together. In Frieda, the
arrival of this German girl (and, eventually, her brother) divides a similar
community, which struggles to find a cohesive and coherent reaction to her
presence. This is dramatised largely through the response of Dawson’s
matriarchal family, from Mrs Dawson (Barbara Everett) and her sister Nell
(Flora Robson), to Edith (Gladys Henson) and Judy (Glynis Johns), the widowed
wife of Robert’s brother, Alan. This cast of women returns to the (often complex)
representation of women in Ealing films. While Mrs Dawson and Edith are domestic,
reliable maternal figures who reluctantly accept Frieda, Nell (running for parliament
on an anti-German ticket) accuses Frieda of being ‘party to a monstrous crime’
that she ‘cannot evade responsibility for.’ Judy, meanwhile, struggles with
Robert’s return as he reminds her of her dead husband: the love triangle of
Judy-Robert-Frieda is underplayed throughout, and director Dearden uses lingering
looks between Johns, Zetterling and Farrar to convey the emotions rather than
overwrought dialogue.
Given the vehemence of Nell and Judy’s reactions to
Frieda, they remain (perhaps inevitably) the most interesting characters in the
film, and those that the film is most eager to rehabilitate. Nell believes ‘Germanism’
is in the blood, and that Denfield’s eventual embrace of Frieda is ‘our
strength and our weakness.’ Initially, the town sides with Nell: Frieda is
likened to a mine (quiet until it explodes); Tony notes that it can’t be wicked
to hate Germans because ‘it says so in the papers’; his school friends refer to
Frieda as a werewolf; and there are complaints that rations are being given ‘to
a German girl.’ By the halfway point, however, Frieda has proven her worth to
the community, working on the farm, and included in traditional celebrations
such as a Christmas dance.
In one sense, then, the film is a polemic that not all
Germans are bad Germans, a sentiment that fits with Ealing’s relatively liberal
politics and consensus building. Yet, while telling us that there are good Germans,
aspects of the film can be read as anti-German: Robert (our hero) was treated
badly as a POW, Alan was killed by German guns, and the only other German
character in the film is Frieda’s brother Richard (Albert Lieven), a Nazi
sympathiser and fanatic who wants to use Frieda’s ‘conquest’ of the English to
revitalise a new war. Although Frieda rejects his view of Germany, Richard
(like Nell) is a melodramatic character, visually and aurally striking, and his
appearance lingers well after Robert beats him up. The views of Germany we are
offered by the film, then, are of small, vulnerable and beautiful Frieda, or
the loud, brash and warmongering Richard – Zetterling may be in the film for
longer, but as a blank slate for the film’s desire to project a positive image,
the louder and more declamatory opinions on Germany could dominate for some
viewers.
That is not to dismiss Zetterling’s performance, more to
point out that her role is a cipher, pushed around by events and rarely active
in the narrative. The psychological toil of the film’s events (not least Robert
accepting Nell’s anti-German attitude) does at least offer some justification
for her suicide attempt (particularly when compared to other Ealing suicides in
It Always Rains on Sunday (1947) or Cage of Gold (1950) – a trend that might
suggest a limited series of narrative options for these women). Yet even this
sequence is as much about Nell as it is Frieda, with a strong performance from Flora
Robson where the camera lingers on her face, conflicting emotions playing
across it as she decides whether to alert Robert to Frieda’s intentions. Nell
and Judy’s confrontation, where Nell admits to being wrong, remains a little
pat and unconvincing, but it allows the film to reinforce its message and,
finally, reclaim Nell’s position.
The film contains strong visual touches throughout: an
early pan around the Dawson house at Judy and Alan’s wedding is a point-of-view
shot from Robert’s perspective (it is his flashback, and all the other
characters raise glasses in his direction, acknowledging the POV); within the
Dawson house, characters are regularly framed from above, as one character
(often Frieda, isolated) looks down the staircase on action below that excludes
her; there is also a montage sequence of Robert and Frieda working on the
Dawson farm that borrows extensively from Russian techniques; and a strong domestic
tableau where the Dawson’s frame Frieda and her brother, suggesting that they are
within the family space but still outsiders.
[UPDATED April 2014: Frieda is now available as part of The Ealing Studios Rarities Collection, Volume 3, from Network]
Next time, I have a premonition we'll be looking at supernatural drama The Night My Number Came Up (1955)...
At last I've seen more than a simple synopsis of Frieda!
ReplyDeleteI would be interested to know what the audience reaction to this film was - did Frieda defeat her brother in the popularity stakes? In my view she did, but of course I have no anti-German sentiment, being born well after the war finished.
You may be interested in my interpretation, which is a little different from your own.
http://serenityscience.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/civilised-bigotry.html
Paul, thanks for your comment - finding out audience response to Frieda would be fascinating, but difficult given the lack of any concerted audience research in 1947. Perhaps there was correspondence with the studio itself around the film that could reveal that, but I'm unsure if the BFI holds any material relating to that...
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