Now, Voyager
- Jun 17
- 2 min read
For this week, my sister Christine asked me to review one of her favorite films for Silver Screen Radio. It’s Now, Voyager, a Warner Brothers film, made in 1942, starring Bette Davis, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains and Gladys George. I’m happy to grant my sister her wish because it’s a film much cherished by those who delight in great dramas from the Golden Age of Hollywood moviemaking.
The title of the film is taken from a poem by Walt Whitman, who urges us to not be passive about living. Bette Davis plays Charlotte, a single woman still living alone at home with her domineering mother, a wealthy Boston woman who raised several sons before giving birth to Charlotte late in life; a birth her mother did not want. Now it’s Charlotte who pays the price for her mother’s regret. Her mother abuses her, verbally and emotionally, to the point where Charlotte is a neurotic shut-in, unable to function in the world.
On the verge of a nervous breakdown, Charlotte finds herself at a sanitarium, in the care of an understanding psychiatrist. With his help, away from her mother’s suffocating control, Charlotte begins to emerge from her shell. But when it’s time for her to go home, Charlotte isn’t quite ready to face her mother again, so she opts instead to go on a cruise. While on board the ship, Charlotte continues her stunning transformation, physically and emotionally. The shut-in becomes a confident, confident woman, and it’s not long before her tender friendship with another passenger named Jerry glows into a rapturous romance.
Storm clouds are on the horizon, of course. I won’t spoil the plot twists that await Charlotte, including when she finally returns home, determined to break free of her mother’s control. But, of course, the rigid, maternal puppet master has no intention of letting go of her strings.
A highly-charged emotional adventure of a repressed woman’s journey to the freedom
Now, Voyager is an enthralling romance and a highly charged emotional adventure of a repressed woman’s journey to the freedom of self-discovery. Bette Davis’ performance as Charlotte is brilliant. Add composer Max Steiner’s memorable music score and you have an American classic that still captivates more than 80 years after it was made. In the justifiably famous last scene, Jerry and Charlotte stand alone in the moonlight. He lights cigarettes for them both and asks if she is happy. Bette Davis bats her amazing, expressive eyes at him and replies: “Oh, Jerry, don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.”
Like my sister, I give Now, Voyager four out of four stars.
