The Long Voyage Home (1940)

Dir.: John Ford
Plot: A crew of merchant sailors try to stay sane and alive in dangerous waters, while personal catastrophe plagues their ranks.

The Long Voyage Home may sound like pleasantly forgettable studio fare – a troop of rowdy merchant sailors played by a familiar array of folksy character actors and a plot revolving around suspected spies, enemy-infested waters and the occasional mass brawl. In reality, it strives for a higher plane, thanks to original author Eugene O’Neill’s poignant examination of the loneliness of the seafaring life and the inner demons that drive a man to seek such an existence and prevent him from leaving it.

It is a motley crew indeed, covering just about every archetype in the character ensemble handbook. There’s tough but tender Irish veteran Driscoll (Thomas Mitchell), over-excitable Scandinavian Axel (John Qualen), uptight and mysterious Englishman Smitty (Ian Hunter), eccentric old-timer Donkeyman (Arthur Shields), bluff and hearty American ‘Yank’ – what else? – played by Ward Bond, and naïve youngster Ole (John Wayne). The action takes place on a merchant ship crossing the contested Atlantic Ocean at the beginning of World War II. Isolated from the world (represented in the very first scene by the captain’s stern banishment of the native women who sail out to the ship bearing fruit and contraband rum) and in constant danger of death, the sailors naturally begin to turn on each other. Their attentions quickly turn to Smitty, an unhappy and withdrawn crewman with an unknown past, whose suspicious behaviour is misconstrued as spying for the enemy when in fact it covers a far more personal secret.

As tragedy and misfortune continue to beset the crew, all their hopes become fixed on a gentle and good-hearted Swedish farmboy (a young John Wayne). To the beleaguered sailors, the youngster is a symbol of their own lost innocence, and ensuring that he takes his leave of the seafaring life for good and is safely placed on the next boat to Stockholm represents a chance for them to atone for the sins which led to their damnation to a life on the waves. This conceit is the film’s triumph, brought to life by O’Neill’s beautiful words, and offering an insight into the psyche of the reluctant sailor quite unlike anything else. The final scene, of the crewmen who had sworn they would never again sign on for another voyage returning, sick and sorry, from shore leave and shuffling back up the gangplank, is guaranteed to stick in the viewer’s memory.

The performances, however, are not always of quite the same haunting subtlety. Our band of sailors may come from many cultures, but they are united by one thing – a tendency to overact (with the exception of Wayne, succumbing instead to his tendency to underact. On the bright side, his Swedish accent manages to maintain a surprisingly even keel, probably thanks in part to the guiding presence of faux-Scandi master John Qualen). Ford’s habit of allowing dialogue-heavy scenes to drift into back-and-forth bellowing, perfectly fine out on the range or in a spacious saloon but near-intolerable in a cramped ship bunkroom, means that any excessive yammering tends to grate. Mitchell’s ‘big’ acting scenes and Qualen’s trademark ‘by Yiminy!’shtick both work better when they have more room to breathe, although both have quieter, more effective moments as the film goes on. In fact, the picture as a whole takes time to get going – the first act is slack and unfocussed compared to the finely-drawn tension of the second and third – and the weight given to the various characters seems unbalanced at times (a major character is killed off before we get to spend any meaningful time with him, and it would have been nice if Wayne’s character had been developed before the final portion of the film, when the whole focus shifts onto him).

The true star of The Long Voyage Home, however, is unquestionably Gregg Tolland’s cinematography and John Ford’s direction. It’s an unusual setting for Ford, trading sweeping vistas for the narrow confines of a merchant ship, and one that brings out some of his most innovative work.  Among the most memorable shots is the storm scene, with a camera placed down on the deck as waves crash down towards it, finally sweeping over it and hurtling Ward Bond into the foreground. The lingering shots of the boat at night, noirish stark angles swathed in smoke, are just sublime, as are the light-and-shadow close-ups which enhance the aura of distrust and claustrophobia which plague the unhappy crew. The production’s air of understated class is capped off by a stirring, elegiac soundtrack, firmly stating the film’s intention to respect the integrity of its source material, four of O’Neill’s one-act plays stitched together with admirable fluency by Dudley Nichols. While not without its flaws, The Long Voyage Home nonetheless succeeds in creating a gripping, atmospheric drama with a poignant undertone of desperation and loneliness, framed by Ford and Tolland’s moody and brilliant photography.