Review of Now, Voyager (1942) by Augustina S — 01 Oct 2015

Bette Davis sports caterpillar eyebrows and dodgy dresses in Casey Robinson's caricature-friendly Now, Voyager; a film frankly far weaker than it's stars and sentiments.

From a modern perspective, the concept of an unqualified ex-crazy offered a nurse job by her psychiatrist to care for, take camping, and kidnap the current-crazy child of her unrequited lover (whom she wants to 'always have piece of close') raises a few eyebrows. It sounds ripe for horror. Or at least a horror parody. But amidst World War Two, this sort of breezy I-love-you-so-much escapism was considered the epitome of All-American romance.

Now, Voyager is laden with some sweet edits, fades and visual metaphors, but the screenplay is somewhat soggy and unfocused, let alone troublesome to take seriously. Everyone mumbles their way through deliberate dialogue in a is-it-or-isn't-it British-Tinseltown accent, but Davis' pedantic performance somehow rises above her material. It's a shame the same can't be said for assertive-eyed Paul Henreid and his double cigarettes.

Davis' ugly duckling, Charlotte Vale, is a killer role, and the star has real fun with it. If you do go watch Now, Voyager, go watch it for her.