An Affair to Remember Turns Sixty

Wow, An Affair to Remember, the movie women of my generation shed pools of tears over, just turned sixty. When my BFF and I went to an anniversary showing of the film, we came armed with tissues. Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. The beautiful theme song that made us cry through the opening credits. The romance and (spoiler alert) happy ending following a great tragedy. Perfect.

What is it about this 1957 movie that still makes my female friends sigh when I mention it? Why do we joke about watching it someday at a pajama party in our senior housing?

Of course, we all had crushes on Cary Grant. He was so dashing, elegant, and handsome. Playing his usual role as a debonair playboy with a heart of gold, even though he was actually 53 when the movie came out, he falls in love with a plucky and pretty-but-not-too-sexy singer played by Deborah Kerr. Of course, there is an obstacle to their romance. They are both committed to other people.

They come to what I thought as a pre-teen was a perfectly romantic way to resolve their dilemma. In six months, if they still wanted to be together and had ended their relationships, they would meet at the top of the Empire State Building. But, alas, a car hits Kerr’s character as she rushes to the site, leaving poor Grant to believe she no longer loves him. Sob.

Well, life moves on and Kerr is now in a wheel chair and thus believes she is no longer worthy of Grant’s love. Grant stops his playboy lifestyle and becomes a painter, and Kerr works as a music teacher. Grant sees Kerr at a concert and decides to visit her on Christmas Eve (for extra sentimental value — cue the violins). He almost leaves her apartment without knowing what happened to her when, major corny irony, he mentions that a woman in a wheel chair was given the painting he had been working on when they were in love.

Are you ready for this? He sees the painting hanging next to her wheel chair in her bedroom. Cue up the music again. They embrace. I cry. And Kerr says, “If you can paint, I can walk; anything can happen, don’t you think?”

Well maybe. Lots of folks who are paraplegics wish it were that simple. But never mind that. In honor of the film’s 60th birthday, I am remembering how that movie made me feel. And now I can’t get the theme song out of my mind.

But the larger question is why was that movie such a big deal for my friends and me? What lessons was it teaching us about love and romance? Did we really think there was a Cary Grant lurking in our futures? And more importantly, what did this film teach a generation of women?

Actually, as much as I love the movie, it probably taught women who came of age in the late fifties and early sixties some questionable lessons.

1. If you have a chance to be with Cary Grant, it’s fine to dump a man who loves you.
2. If you are disabled, there is no way you are worthy of Grant’s love.
3. Don’t communicate or tell a guy the truth. It’s much better to suffer alone in silence.
4. Be patient, take no initiative, and wait for good things to come to you.
5. Kids are kind of annoying and creepy. And it’s OK for the black kids to stand in back and apparently be the only ones who can tap dance.
6. Love and romance will always triumph.

I have definitely renounced lessons one through five, but there is a part of me that can’t let go of number six.

Have you seen The Affair on Showtime? Sounds similar, right? Well, it couldn’t be more different. First of all, Dominic West is no Cary Grant. He’s basically a cheating, egomaniacal skunk. Then there’s Ruth Wilson as his lover and Maura Tierney as his wife. Both are pretty depressed. I don’t like any of the people in the story. I don’t even care what happens to them. I know the acting is good and I am curious to see how it all ends. But I will never shed a tear of happiness or sorrow over the fate these characters. And that theme song by Fiona Apple — “a woman who died, screaming into a canyon.” I have to mute it at the beginning of every episode because it grates on my nerves as much as chalk on a blackboard.

Of course, many readers have never actually heard how my last metaphor actually sounds. Folks don’t write on blackboards anymore, and I guess romance is also pretty much passé. In An Affair to Remember, the vivacious, virtuous Deborah Kerr gets the guy. Grant and Kerr don’t even really kiss on screen. And yet, the movie is incredibly romantic.

I grew up in simpler times. But who wouldn’t favor theme song lyrics extolling a love affair as a wondrous thing, something born in a first embrace, and a flame burning through eternity? With violins playing in the background, no less. Happy 60th birthday to An Affair to Remember.

Grab your tissues — The last scene plus the theme song

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