One of the greatest Bette Davis vehicles every made, Jezebel was one of the nominees for Best Picture of 1938. It's the story of a willful Southern belle who destroys her chance at love. She loses the man she loves because of her inability to follow the rigid guidelines for "proper" behavior in antebellum Louisiana. It's a remarkable performance by Davis, one credited with making her the biggest female star of the movies at the time. She is, at turns, funny, charming, vengeful, self-sacrificing, flirtatious, vain--the list goes on. She's the center of the film, naturally, and must command your attention throughout without alienating the viewers. That's a risky enterprise with this particular role, but Davis here was in full command of her acting powers. She takes a intensely dislikable young woman and makes you care about what happens to her; that's no small feat.
There are other people in the film worthy of praise. A young Henry Fonda plays Preston Dillard, the man Julie loves but who is driven away by her rash behavior. He brings a strong sense of moral rectitude to the part. George Brent is Buck Cantrell, the sort of dashing young man lots of women at the time would have found irresistible but whom Julie rejects in favor of Preston. I always thought Brent was underrated as an actor, and his performance here is an example of just how good he was. And, of course, the emotional center of the film is the great Fay Bainter as Julie's Aunt Belle. Bainter can conjure an emotion with a mere hand gesture or a sideways glance; she's astonishing here, as she was in so many films. She's one of those supporting players who always elevates the material she's in. Bainter certainly deserved the Oscar she won that year for Best Supporting Actress.
Many people compare Jezebel to the film that would win the Oscar one year later, Gone with the Wind. However, to me, they aren't similar at all. Scarlett O'Hara is certainly willful, but Julie Marsden puts her to shame in terms of her abilities to manipulate people. The centerpiece of the plot in each case is quite distinct. Gone with the Wind is a love story that plays out against the background of the Civil War and its aftermath. Jezebel is about the mores of a time before the war, but the point upon which its plot revolves is a wave of malaria, one of those that periodically swept through the swamps around New Orleans and decimated that city's population. Jezebel is, therefore, a far more intimate or personal film in many ways. I suppose having two strong female characters from the South in back-to-back years would make comparisons inevitable, but Davis must make an unsympathetic character into one we like and even admire by film's end. Vivien Leigh's Scarlett is never truly a woman we can't like. We can certainly feel sorry for her or perhaps wonder at some of the silly choices she makes, but she never loses our sympathy the way that Julie sometimes can.
It's intriguing to consider some of the "shocking" behavior that Julie exhibits. She wears a riding habit to a party because she hasn't had time to change. The party guests, including the always entertaining Spring Byington as Mrs. Kendrick, give her the once-over to suggest just how galling they find her attire to be. She walks into a bank to ask Preston why he isn't joining her at a dress fitting. Only men would have been allowed in a bank during the 1850s, presumably, judging from the looks on the faces of the other patrons and bank employees. Likewise, her wearing an infamous red dress to a ball, one where young unmarried women are expected to wear white, is one of the best known sequences in the film. Watch Davis's face as Fonda forces her to dance after everyone else has left the floor out of shame or embarrassment or some other "appropriate" reaction to her choice of attire. Perhaps most shocking of all, she gets Buck killed in a duel over her honor, the second time he has had to defend her after their break-up. To commit these "sins" yet still have some viewer sympathy takes an actor with an amazing talent.
Of course, I do have to admit that Davis does not have a believable Southern accent. She, like so many actors then and now, sounds like someone trying to do a Southern accent (and not succeeding). Never for a moment do I forget that she isn't from Louisiana. However, I'm willing to forgive that one flaw in an otherwise remarkable performance. At film's end, she finally sacrifices on behalf of someone else, and the transformation is an astonishing one. She has been such a bitch throughout much of the film, so defiant and mean-spirited, that to see her consider someone else's life above hers is a bit of a shock, particularly since she does so for the "right" reasons. I'd compare the close-up of her face at the end of Jezebel to be as iconic as Garbo's final shot in Queen Christina. It's that memorable, that indelible an image.
