Separate Tables

Cinema's treated Terence Rattigan much better than most playwrights. The Browning Version, The Winslow Boy and The Deep Blue Sea all have respectable film versions, not mentioning Rattigan's own screenwriting work. Best-remembered is the ensemble drama Separate Tables (1958), directed by Delbert Mann. More conventional than, say, Terence Davies' expressionist Deep Blue Sea, it's still a fine adaptation.

Bournemoth's classy Beauregard Hotel serves as the meeting place for troubled individuals. Disgraced politician John Malcolm (Burt Lancaster) confronts his needy ex-wife Anne (Rita Hayworth). Socially awkward Sybil (Deborah Kerr) flirts with windbag war hero Major Pollocks (David Niven), even after her mother (Gladys Cooper) discovers the Major's unsavory past. An unhappy younger couple (Rod Taylor and Audrey Dalton) flits around the edges. Presiding over them is Miss Cooper (Wendy Hiller), whose unfussy, uncritical manner provides comfort to her customers.

Separate Tables serves as a powerful mediation on loneliness. Each character struggles to forge meaningful connections with other people, desperate to avoid unhappiness. Anne can't move on from John's rejection and tries to seduce him, even as John pursues Miss Cooper. More effective is Major Pollocks: he cultivates a reputation as a gallant bore, desperately hiding his past as a pathological pervert. Sybil is so desperate to break free from her mother's control that she pursues the Major, even after learning his secret. Rattigan interweaves these stories with deftness and insight, ending on a wistful note.

Rattigan's original work consists of two standalone one-act plays. Mann, Rattigan and cowriter John Gay open things up with more characters and exterior scenes, blending the two stories together. The adaptation works marvelously, creating a felicitous dramatic flow and interplay that allows each plot room to breathe. Rattigan's style and settings are safely middle class but convey universal themes and emotions.

Separate Tables' big appeal comes with the all-star cast. Co-producer Burt Lancaster does another variant of his leering cad, resisting the advances of aging Rita Hayworth. David Niven plays remarkably against-type as a desperate, beaten loser. Deborah Kerr gracefully conveys Sibyl's wounded naivety, despite seeming too old for the role. Wendy Hiller won an Oscar as the businesslike matron. May Hallat, Gladys Cooper and Felix Aylmer inhabit supporting roles; Rod Taylor has a marginal cameo.

Today Separate Tables plays very old-fashioned, but that's part of its charm. Mann's restrained direction allows us to focus on Rattigan's very human story.

Marty

Delbert Mann and Paddy Chayefsky deliver a home-run with Marty (1955), a charming little gem. A rare male-focused romance, it's a well-crafted, enjoyable film - not the least for Ernest Borgnine's heartfelt performance.

Marty Piletti (Ernest Borgnine) is a Brooklyn butcher depressed by a lifetime of romantic failure. He ends up at a nightclub, where he runs into Clara (Betsy Blair), a meek schoolteacher who's been stood up by her date. The two spend the evening together and soon. However, Marty's friends and mother (Esther Minciotti) think she's a "dog" not worthy of his attention affection. Marty must decide whether to listen to his friends or his heart.

Marty affects me more than most romances, a believably awkward love story rather than a callow fantasy. Chayefsky's script (originally a teleplay starring Rod Steiger) is a simple but effective drama, with a pleasant eye for human interaction. Marty's anguished phone call to a prospective date, his rambling response to Clara's attentions and their awkward first kiss all seem very real. Delbert Mann's steady direction and a pleasant Roy Webb score make it an enjoyable experience but it's the characters that make it work.

Marty warmly views romance as a key to independence. Both protagonists live with their parents and are so socially awkward that a night on the town amounts to self-flagellation. Their night's flirtation, both planning to take career steps and emotional openness they've never considered before. Marty must cut loose from his fretful mother and sex-obsessed friends, lest he end up like his pathetic, bickering in-laws (Jerry Paris and Karen Steele). A night's happiness might not lead to true love, but it's an important step for Marty and Clara.

Ernest Borgnine is a revelation. Prior to this he'd been typecast as bad guys in From Here to Eternity and Vera Cruz, a persona he never quite shook off (even after McHale's Navy). Here Borgnine gives a warm, sensitive performance as a lovable Everyman. Marty's romantic frustration, self-loathing ("I'm a fat, ugly little man!"), good-heartedness and unexpected joy make him relatable, and Borgnine plays him beautifully. If this mug can find true love, then all of us have a shot.

This is Ernie's show but the supporting cast comports themselves well. Betsy Blair is heart-rending as a plain girl surprised to receive a man's attention. Esther Miniciotti (The Wrong Man) gives a layered performance, wanting Marty to be happy but fearing her own loneliness. Joe Mantell (Kelly's Heroes) makes a perfect sad sack foil to Marty.

Marty has a real warmth and humanity that sets it above your average romance. If nothing else, you'll no longer think of Ernest Borgnine as a bug-eyed creep - or as Mermaid Man.