Lloyd C. Douglas was Senior Minister at
the First Congregational Church of Akron, Ohio, during the 1920s. He became a published
author of non-fiction works during that time and then, having moved to Los Angeles in
1926, he began writing fiction, telling stories that illustrated his own passionate belief
in the need for faith, and of the benefit to the many that comes through the
self-sacrifice of the individual. Douglas’s first novel, "Magnificent
Obsession", was an enormous best-seller; it would eventually be filmed twice, in 1935
and 1954. A number of Douglas’s other novels would also become films. His most
frequent interpreter was Frank Borzage, and anyone who has any knowledge of the
director’s career will have no difficulty understanding why. As is the case with
Douglas’s novels themselves, there is no cynicism in Frank Borzage’s films, and
nary a breath of irony. When his characters talk about "God", they mean it; when
they talk about "love", they mean that, too. His films deal primarily with men
and women who can recognise each other’s souls; who struggle not just with love and
passion (although there is plenty of that in Borzage’s work; refreshingly, he never
shied away from the sexual aspects of love), but with issues of dedication, of loyalty, of
self-sacrifice and self-denial. They are intense, romantic, and utterly sincere – and
they have, consequently, an almost unparalleled ability to make modern audiences squirm
with discomfort. (Indeed, Borzage’s only serious rival in this respect is probably
Douglas Sirk who, significantly, directed the 1954 version of Magnificent Obsession.)
Green Light, perhaps the least known of all the Lloyd Douglas adaptations, is
nevertheless a classic example of the author’s work. It tells the story of Newell
Paige (Errol Flynn), a rising young surgeon whose career is destroyed when he takes the
blame for his mentor, Dr Endicott (Henry O’Neill), who botches an operation and
causes the death of a patient. Paige’s heroic gesture leads to further heartbreak
when he falls in love with Phyllis Dexter (Anita Louise), the daughter of the unfortunate
patient, only to have her recoil in horror from, as she believes, the man who killed her
mother. The film follows Paige as he struggles up from the depths of despair to the
salvaging of his sense of self-worth; and finally, to his gaining of both love and faith
through, in typical Douglas fashion, an act of near-fatal self-sacrifice.
Much of Green Light, particularly the
first half of the film, is taken up with debates over the nature of faith, and the eternal
versus the here-and-now. In this, the medical profession, in the shape of Newell Paige and
the nurse who loves him, Frances Ogilvie (Margaret Lindsay), faces off against the
positively saintly Dean Harcourt (Cedric Hardwicke), who was the human inspiration of the
doomed Mrs Dexter (Spring Byington), and who later helps Phyllis Dexter to work through
her feelings of anger and hatred against those who caused her mother’s death. How the
viewer reacts to all of this is, I suppose, a very individual thing. Some may find it full
of truth; others, unbearably heavy-handed. For myself, I have to confess that the interest
of Green Light lies not in the redemption of Newell Paige per se (after all,
there’s precious little doubt how those "debates" are eventually going to
turn out!), but in how he finds his redemption. Unusually, Green Light is
the story of a man who finds God through science. Moreover, the science we see is all the
more interesting for being entirely based upon fact. Early in the film, we meet Dr John
Stafford (Walter Abel), a close friend of Paige’s who is also a bacteriologist
attached to program researching spotted fever. When Paige accepts the verdict of the
hospital committee and resigns, Stafford comes to him a fury, upbraiding him for what he
sees as his spinelessness. He then announces that he, too, is resigning; in his case, to
take over the running of the research laboratory in Montana, the previous head having just
died of the very disease he was attempting to combat. Later, his career over, his heart
broken, his life in ruins, Paige does the only thing that there still seems left for him
to do: he joins Stafford in Montana, and devotes himself to scientific research. You may
think of this, if you will, as the biomedical equivalent of joining the Foreign Legion.
Jokes aside, Green Light justifies its
existence for the way it highlights both a tragic chapter in America’s medical
history, and gives recognition to some very brave men whose names have been forgotten.
During the late 1800s and early 1900s, hundreds of people in the north-western states
contracted Rocky Mountain spotted fever, also known as "the black measles", and
many of them died. The disease is caused by tiny bacteria now called Rickettsia
ricketsii, which must actually live within the cells of their host, as viruses do.
This fact, plus the complicated life history of the main vector, the wood tick (which
requires three different hosts during the various phases of its development), thwarted
investigators for many years. Two men were most instrumental in battling this scourge:
Robert Cooley, once head of the Department of Entomology at the Montana State College, and
Howard Ricketts, who set up the first spotted fever research lab in Missoula in 1906
– in a tent. Ricketts and Cooley, along with a number of their students, took on the
challenge of understanding the disease. Moreover, Cooley was eventually responsible for
the establishment of the Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever Laboratory, set up in an abandoned
schoolhouse in Hamilton, MO, in 1913. None of this happened without a struggle. Many local
officials, fearful of the effect the news would have upon development in the Bitterroot
Valley, refused to accept that a tick could be the disease vector; while incredibly, the
scientists were vehemently opposed by the Montana Board of Health, whose doctor-members
resented the "intrusion" into the field of medicine of "mere
bug-ologists". (Ah, plus ça change….and I wonder whether screenwriter
John Logan has relatives in Montana?) The scientists fought on, however, and eventually
both identified the organism responsible for the disease, and produced a vaccine against
it. These triumphs did not come without extreme cost: four of the researchers died in the
course of their work. Ironically, Howard Ricketts, who gave his name to the deadly
bacterium responsible for spotted fever, died in Mexico in 1909 of typhus – which is
also caused by a strain of Rickettsia.
Through the characters of Newell Paige and
John Stafford, Green Light recounts the struggles of these brave men, some of whom
gave their life for the cause. Indeed, not once but twice Stafford recites the names of
his predecessors – "And no-one knows their names," he adds sombrely.
Slowly, Paige and Stafford make their way along the path hewn by their real-life
counterparts (their work punctuated by visits from ungrateful locals, wanting to know why
they don’t do something, instead of "playing with rabbits and guinea
pigs"), until an experimental vaccine is ready to be trialed. But where to find a
suitable subject? Well, Newell Paige has an answer to that: he injects himself, then lets
a tick bite him….
Although his swashbucklers and adventure
films were what made him famous, Errol Flynn’s career took some interesting
deviations over the years, and Green Light is one of those films. He’s quite
good as Newell Paige, and manages to convey the young man’s almost unacknowledged
dissatisfaction with life, the restless yearning for something that will eventually
lead him to religious faith. As Phyllis, Anita Louise hasn’t much more to do than
look beautiful; while as Dean Harcourt, Cedric Hardwicke is just too sanctimonious for
words. No, I take that back; that’s a bit unfair. It’s just that, as I’ve
said, the script tends more than a little to the heavy-handed, and it’s Hardwicke who
must bear the burden of it. Under the circumstances, he actually does a very good job. For
me, though, the performances of the film come in the supporting roles. Margaret Lindsay is
quite charming as surgical nurse Frances Ogilvie, in love with Newell Paige without a hope
of return. (She knows she’s doomed when he sums her up as "a good egg" with
"a great talent for surgery".) As the film progresses, we learn that Frances
hasn’t a selfish bone in her body. When Newell and Phyllis meet – she not
knowing who he is, of course – it’s love at first sight. Despite her pain,
Frances accepts this without a murmur, even taking the bereaved girl under her wing; the
two end up firm friends. (Indeed, so very likeable is Frances that you kind of have to
wonder what Newell doesn’t see in her – except that she’s a working
girl in a 1930s movie, and that’s rarely a good thing.) The end of the film implies
both a new career and a new relationship for Frances – and personally, I think
it’s not a bad consolation prize. Walter Abel is not an actor who ever received much
acclaim, but I’ve always liked him, chiefly for his ability to take a supporting role
and really make something of it (see, for instance, his performance as the immigration
officer in Hold Back The Dawn, Billy Wilder’s first American screenplay). Here
he does exactly that, adding some welcome solidity and acerbity to the inevitable
esoterics of the story. (I particularly like the moment when Stafford, disgusted with
Paige’s decision to resign without a fight, accuses him of being "lost in
whiskey and heroics".) And you know--- Call me a heretic, but for all Newell
Paige’s struggles and self-sacrifice the real hero of Green Light to me is
John Stafford. No grandstanding, no desperation, no consciousness of sacrifice--- Just a
man who saw a job that needed doing, and did it, despite the danger. The world is, after
all, full of such heroes….and no-one knows their names, either.
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