Saints and poets
by chuckofish
The other night I watched the old movie Our Town (1940), starring a stellar cast which included William Holden, Martha Scott, Thomas Mitchell, Beulah Bondi, and Frank Craven as the Stage Manager. He originated the role on Broadway.

I don’t know what it is about this movie but it just destroys me every time I see it. Once again I cried through the whole last act. Part of it is that Aaron Copland score. But most of it is the plain truth of it.
Wilder explained in his preface to the play that “‘Our Town’ is not offered as a picture of life in a New Hampshire village or as a speculation about the condition of life after death. . . .It is an attempt to find a value above all price for the smallest events in our life.” Well, I get that. The movie plays up the romance angle and it changes the ending, but for Hollywood, it does a pretty good job of conveying the message of the play.
I was in the play once–in eighth grade. I played Howie Newsome, the milkman. I saw it performed in Peterborough, New Hampshire, in a production by the Peterborough Players that included James Whitmore as the Stage Manager. (Wilder wrote some of Our Town at the MacDowell Colony in Peterborough, as well as in Zurich and on Long Island and all over.) And I’ve seen several versions on TV. But I do like the black and white movie, sets and all.
Here’s “The birth and life of an American classic: ‘Our Town’” from the Pulitzer files. Some people just don’t get it and write it off as folksy and sentimental. How wrong they are!
Reading the play is good, but seeing it is better. After all, it’s a play. For convenience sake, I recommend the movie.
