Christmas for Losers: I'll Be Seeing You (1944)

David O. Selznick's "other" romantic wartime production of 1944, I'll Be Seeing You has always played second fiddle to the homefront epic Since You Went Away, but the former film is still interesting to watch, especially around Christmas time. With protagonists that are unusual for a 1940s film, let alone a Christmas-themed romance, it is that setting and those characters that give I'll Be Seeing You it enduring relevance. Joseph Cotten stars as Zachary Morgan, a soldier suffering from "shell-shock" (aka Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) on medical leave from the hospital as his doctors hope he'll be able to get back into the swing of life outside the hospital. While this might not seem like all that strange of a character, remember that I'll Be Seeing You was released before the end of the war and two years before films like The Best Years of Our Lives and Til The End of Time, which dramatized the after-affects of war on the lives of ex-GIs. The sort of aimlessness and shame - a recurring theme in post-war Hollywood films about veterans - experienced by Zach was ahead of its time in late-1944.

Zach is an orphan with no family to return to, so he rides a train to nowhere before meeting Mary Marshall, also an orphan, though she has some close family to spend the holidays with. Mary, played by Ginger Rogers in one of her better dramatic performances, is on holiday leave from serving a prison sentence for involuntary manslaughter. Female criminals in movies around this time were almost always of the hardened "gun moll" type; seductive vamps and femme fatales at worst, merely unsympathetic at best. In typical 1940s fashion, the justice of Mary's imprisonment in never overtly questioned, yet writer Marion Parsonnet and director William Dieterle present her in such a sympathetic light while showing us her "crime" in such an elliptical, nightmarish way that the audience has no doubt that she is a victim of her faceless assailant. Not so other characters in the film, who speak of her mistake, of "paying her debt to society," a given based on the level of censorship at play in 1944. That Mary must suffer because of a drunk, groping boss is obviously unfair, especially when you consider that her attacker would likely have suffered no consequences if he hadn't, well, fallen out of a sixteenth story widow. Now branded for a life as a future ex-con, Mary tragically laments that her dreams are now impossible, since her crime will follow her for the rest of her life, once labeling someone, society is slow to remove that label, if they ever do.

So you have your protagonists, characters that by 1940s standards would be "losers," social outcasts. That I'll Be Seeing You gives these characters dignity is to its credit, but where the film really stands out is how it depicts their outsidership and delves into their feelings on seemingly lacking a place in the world. They are surrounded by people, yet still alone, disconnected from those around them. Even when coming together with family or pseudo-family, the pieces don't quite fit together right, there's an awkwardness coming from both the leads and their hesitant friends. People don't quite no how to act around them, as if they were worried on touching on a sensitive subject. This is wonderfully conveyed in hesitating, low-key performances by Rogers, Cotten, and the supporting cast, as well as the somber mood created by Dieterle and co, showing the way that the protagonists are framed as slightly out-of-step with the "normal" society.  

I'll Be Seeing You also takes a look into the mind of Zach and Mary, making it clear that they are crippled by more than their situations: the shame they feel is just as damaging to them. Both lie to prevent their shame from being revealed and try to play "make believe" that everything is alright. Where the film is at its best is in the way that represents Zach and Mary's lack of a place in America, 1944. Both have roles that would be assigned to them by society at that time, so that when they are unable to fulfill these roles, it creates a source of great shame, longing, and distress to them. Zach, a decorated veteran of many major battles would be cast as a hero, raising morale, selling war bonds, etc. yet he can barely walk outside of his own home, his self-confidence shattered. For her part, Mary "should" have been a nice young woman, writing to soldiers and being their pin-up girl to raise morale, much like her cousin Barbara (Shirley Temple). When talking to her Aunt Sarah (Spring Byington) Mary makes it clear that exiting prison into the wartime homefront has left her directionless: "I just don't belong, I don't fit in," she says. 

What Mary is referring to is that during the war years, societal roles became cogs in a war machine and so their importance was raised to all-time heights, "Doing Your Part" was a slogan that all patriotic Americans aspired to. (Just compare the level of national effort during WWII with the handling of 2020's pandemic and you get some sense of the loss of unified national identity and growth of individualism, for both good and ill.) Because of their outsider status, neither Zach or Mary can "do their part," they can't play their expected roles. That's I'll Be Seeing You is set during Christmas is fitting, because to lesser extent than the war, Christmas also brings societal patterns and roles more fully to the forefront. Visiting family: are you the son or daughter your parents hoped you'd be? Family doesn't agree with your lifestyle, politics, or choices? Out of a job? Recovering from an addiction? Just out prison? We're all just people with expectations placed on us, be it by others or ourselves, and our ability to play those roles goes a long way in determining how we "fit it" and are accepted by the people around us. 

Of course, that Mary and Zach are "losers" is totally wrong, she is a victim, he is a hero, and I'll Be Seeing You does a good showing this, as well as presenting a possible path to recovery, not of their place in society, but how others understand and accept them for who they are, not for who they are supposed to be. Firstly, they find one another: there are few things more difficult than being alone, so at least having someone to share troubles with goes a long way. Even though they aren't forthright with one another right off the bat - understandably, they have trust issues - both sense in the other the same feelings of disaffection. First, Mary listens to Zach and encourages him as best she can - "I feel so much better when I talk to you" he says - which may not seem like a big deal, but can often make all the difference in the world for someone. By listening, we create empathy and understanding within ourselves for other people and with that, we take the first step for accepting someone for who they are, not for what others say they should be. Likewise, Barbara is cautious around Mary, scared of upsetting her and not fully comprehending what her cousin did or what prison is like... until Mary talks to her, she listens, and understands Mary's situation and empathizes with the injustice her plight. All of a sudden, a connection is made, not because Mary adhered to the status quo, but because Barbara's understanding was expanded beyond what was normally socially acceptable. It wasn't Mary that needed to change to "fit in," it was the people around her. After hearing her story, Barbara both literally and metaphorically pulls down the barrier between her and her cousin. On the opposite side, negative experiences such as Mary and Zach go through equip them to help people on the wraparound: Mary advises the young, naïve Barbara on the way of the world and Zach - who used to torment an old soldier suffering from PTSD - gains a new respect for that man and others like him.  

In one of the film's most touching and quietly tragic scenes, Zach and Mary play with a little toy boat and talk about sailing off together, escaping the society that they don't fit into anymore. However, that is not an option for them, or for most people. What then? Listen to people, try to see their perspective; kindness, empathy, and understanding are often the greatest gifts one can give during the holiday season.

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