Heartbreaker updated from Lillian Hellman's 1934 play about two female teachers who are destroyed when a young student falsely accuses them of being lovers. The girl who makes up the lie out of spite (Karen Balkin) is a convincing villain and the rich, small town bigots who victimise the friends are a sinister and vengeful mob.
Audrey Hepburn is fine as a rather pristine schoolmistress who is deprived of her planned marriage by the gossip. But Shirley MacLaine is the heart of the film, as a kind of soul mate unaware she really is a lesbian. The child''s malicious lie is a scandal, but the teacher's ignorance of her sexualty is a tragedy.
Shirley MacLaine is magnificent. Her performance cuts so deep- not so much her anguish in confronting this fundamental truth about herself, but because she sees her true identity as degenerate and unendurable. Her pain is so pitiful. By killing herself, she sets her friend free, which I suppose is the ultimate expression of love. The climax is truly devastating.
This was still a controversial story in 1961 and time hasn't dulled its impact. Homosexuality is no longer scandalous, but these emotions are still in play. And the capacity for onlookers to cheapen, malign and offend is greater than ever. It's an emotional powerhouse, which features one of the great performances. And an example of William Wyler's cinematic artistry.
The stage origins show. The middle act drags in the way filmed theatre often does, with too much sitting in rooms spelling things out. You can feel the play still clinging to it.
But Hepburn and MacLaine do genuinely wrenching work, and that carries it further than the material sometimes deserves. MacLaine especially is something to watch — that long, quiet moment before she finally admits the truth to herself is one of the great understated performances of early ‘60s Hollywood. The kind of acting that earns the tragedy rather than just inheriting it.
The film is a little timid about its real subject, and braver filmmaking might have made it a classic. But The Children’s Hour gets where it needs to go, and those two performances make it linger. Restrained, imperfect — but something.