User Reviews

Brenda de Banzies runs a small public house in Wales with a wishing well. Eynon Evans is the local post man who has been trying to get Miss de Banzies to marry him for decades. Her son, Donald Houston, is engaged to be married to Petula Clark, who because he doesn't have working legs, is wracked with doubts. There's also a wealthy widow, Gladts Hay, and a young couple who aren't getting along.

It's one of those movies set in Wales where random groups start singing chorale at random moments; even Miss Clark has a rare on-screen performance. Based on a play by Evans, it hews to every stereotype about Wales you can imagine. Director Maurice Elvey opens it up with lots of vistas in the beginning. Later, when it settles down to telling its story, there are plenty of Dutch angles, none of which disguise its stage origins.

Apparently the role taken by Evans in the movie was essayed by Lupino Lane in its National Theater premiere.

The history surrounding this film is actually way more interesting that the film itself. It was written by Welsh bus driver Eynon Evans who plays the postman-cum-poet ("Amos") in this drama, and it was also the final film directed by veteran Maurice Elvey who had long since mastered the art of coping adequately with a low budget and little production time. This film centres around the pub of "Jane" (Brenda de Banzie) - upon whom our minstrel has quite a crush. It has a wishing well (from which the coins can be readily collected afterwards!) and the locals and visitors alike tend to use this as a means of fulfilling their dreams. The principle dreams being chased here feature "Delith" (Petula Clark) who is in love with fiancée "John" (Glyn Houston) but he is wheelchair-bound and suffers from issues of confidence about himself not being good enough for her. It also features a married couple whose love has long since left them and a rather large, curmudgeonly, lady for whom the glass is always half empty. Now the one thing I have always hated is a busybody, and "Amos" successfully portrays that character to the point that I would cheerfully have dumped him down his well, swiftly followed by the large lady and half a ton of instant concrete mix. His character is just annoying, and even the presence of the measured Miss de Banzie cannot really compensate for the irritation he causes. Indeed, this film really does play to just about every Welsh stereotype short of Miss Clark bursting into a rendition of "Land of my Fathers". That said, she does treat us to quite a nice little number and the London Welsh choir also get in on the action to remind us, if the beautiful photography of the valleys fails so to do, that we are in Wales. It's a curious film to watch, and when the ladies concerned are left to actually develop their stories, it is quite watchable. The whole, though, isn't quite the sum of the parts and I found myself more annoyed than engaged with this by the end.

THE HAPPINESS OF THREE WOMEN is one of the last of the three hundred odd films to be made by veteran English director Maurice Elvey and one which he held in some regard, using it in his teaching work after his retirement.

While this in not a major work to be compared with his silent THE LIFE OF DAVID LLOYD GEORGE the recent discovery of which has signaled the neglect which his industry and film scholars treated Elvey, THE HAPPINESS OF THREE WOMEN is welcome for those alarmed by the unsuitable productions given Elvey in his final active years.

Based on a then popular play by Welsh bus driver Evans, who plays the conniving postman in the film, this centres on the Wishing Well Inn run by De Banzie who Evans is trying to lure away from sleeping with her hot water bottle.

Three bookings are made, a nurse with a tragic past, a Korea veteran and a housemaid become rich. Evans efforts to solve their problems are played out in the manner of the British films of the day - not all that far removed from the first, black and white "Carry On..."films where the knockabout was marginal to a sentimental main plot. Best element is the proposed marriage between Petula Clarke and then star Donald Houston as De Banzie's wheelchair bound son, the local school teacher. This has conviction and restraint and the sub-plots keep attention switching skillfully.

Film-making is more adept than the work being done around it, with the camera placed in the middle of the action avoiding stage quality and the Welsh locations and Nettlefold studio shooting effectively integrated. This comes early in the transition to wide screen filming and handles the new format without any problems. The pacing, normally sluggish in English films of the day, is brisk. Patricia Cutts and Donald Houston's brother Glynn even manage a quite sensual bedroom scene out of character with the known Elvey films.

Now, like the body of it's maker's work almost never seen, THE HAPPINESS OF THREE WOMEN makes a disturbing reminder that the most remarkable English film maker of the silent period remained active and retained his skills long after commentators had forgotten his major work.