Inn of the Sixth Happiness, The (1958)

The Inn of the Sixth Happiness is a film about Gladys Aylward, Englishwoman, Protestant missionary and humanitarian, dedicated to a spirit of “the simple, joyful, and rare belief that we are all responsible for each other.”

While such a credo may sound frightfully un-American to us now, there was a time that we once believed in such high ideals, before our social conscience became systematically excised from our collective benevolence by greed, misanthropy, political Darwinism and Reagan idolatry.

Ah, who’s kidding who. We’ve never believed in such uplifting, altruistic principles.

But we love them in our movies.   

Aylward, born to modest means in 1902 London, labored as a domestic for most of her early adult life. Although always a Christian, it was not until attending a fundamentalist meeting that she became devout and turned her life over to the service of her lord. She had a vision that China was where she was to fulfill her destiny, and perform her life’s work, in assisting the poor and bringing Christianity to the heathen Chinese.

She applied for a position with the China Inland Mission but was refused work on academic grounds (England’s staunch classism also was a factor). Undaunted, she set out on her own for the East with the wages she accumulated from her years in service.

In 1930, she was told of a Scottish woman, Jeannie Lawson, doing missionary work in the town of Yangchen in the northern province of Shanxi who needed an assistant. Armed with only a bible and two pounds nine pence, Aylward’s arduous journey took her across Russia via the Trans-Siberian railway to Vladivostok, then by boat to Japan and another to China. Along the way she confronted wartime dangers (Russia, China and Japan were becoming increasingly hostile toward each other), hunger, poverty, detainment, disease and inclement weather. She arrived in Yangchen by mule to find Mrs. Lawson, a cantankerous, half-mad martinet bent on opening an inn. The inn would be the device the women would use to convert the passing muleteers who, in turn, would take the good word on with them to other regions.

The elderly Lawson died soon after Aylward’s arrival. Destitute, unable to speak the language and despised by the townspeople as a foreign devil, she clung to hope by utilizing the converted bilingual cook of the inn, Yang, to assist her during the troubled early years of her mission. It was Yang who taught her Chinese, regaled the travelers with biblical stories, and prevented Aylward’s slaughter at the hands of the distrustful locals in that period.

She slowly gained the trust of the villagers and was called upon by the local Mandarin to become the “foot inspector” for the region. Chiang Kai-Shek’s Nationalist Party was determined to modernize the remote areas and end such outmoded traditions as the foot binding of women. The Mandarins were charged to oversee these reforms and, as the abolishment of foot binding was a volatile issue amongst the locals (confrontations often turned violent), Aylward’s selection was obviously one of expediency.

She survived, spread her gospel to the remote villages, and in turn became beloved by the people who referred to her as Ai-weh-deh” or “Virtuous one”. She became an agent for prison reform, social change, and “adopted” nearly one hundred abandoned or orphaned children. In perhaps her greatest achievement, she led these children out of the war-torn city of Yangchen during the Sino-Japanese conflict, traveling for 27 days and 100 miles across enemy territory, through the mountains to safety in the interior regions of the country. All the while suffering from typhus, pneumonia, fever, exhaustion, and malnutrition.

And you thought your life was hectic.

In 1956, Buddy Adler had taken over the reins of 20^th Century Fox from the iconic Daryl F. Zanuck, who had left the studio to become an independent producer. Adler was hot off his success and Oscar (some say undeserved) for producing From Here to Eternity in 1953 at Columbia. Many longtime employees at Fox were questionable of Adler’s talents and credentials for the position. Zanuck was a very “hands-on” type of filmmaker, involved in all processes of production. Adler was more of an overseer. The argument as to Adler’s worthiness as Zanuck’s successor will forever remain unresolved. Adler died four short years after taking the helm. In that time however, he showed a flair for producing hits in the vein of the studio’s direction in the ‘50s under Zanuck - star driven, cinemascope epics set in exotic locales - to combat the rising popularity of filmdom’s arch-nemesis, television. Among these were Bus Stop and Anastasia in 1956, Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison and A Hatful of Rain in 1957, 1958’s South Pacific and this film, The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, Adler’s last.

Mark Robson, equally hot off his success with the film adaptation of Peyton Place in 1957 was set to direct the picture. Early in his career, he had the envious experience of working with Orson Welles as an editor at RKO on Citizen Kane (1941), The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) and Journey into Fear (1943). From there he hooked up with producer Val Lewton, editing his early and best works, Cat People (1942), I Walked with a Zombie (1943) and The Leopard Man (1943). Impressed with his cutting, Lewton had Robson direct five pictures for him, including his final two at the studio, Isle of the Dead (1945) and Bedlam (1946), both Boris Karloff features.       

Robson had a commercial eye for film but lacked any real vision or presence. He had hits with two sensationalistic novel adaptations of Peyton Place and Valley of the Dolls (1967) and the disaster movie craze of the ‘70s gave him success with Earthquake (1974). He even got down, dirty and gritty in 1956 with the excellent Bogart boxing picture The Harder They Fall, but overall he lacked the style and flair of his contemporaries. This absence is easily recognized in the disparity of visual achievements that Jacques Tourneur accomplished with Val Lewton’s frugal budgets and the lesser, more rigid framework of Robson’s collaborations with the producer.

The Inn of the Sixth Happiness is Ingrid Bergman’s film. Her natural acting style, free from pretense or studied manner, is a perfect fit for the missionary Aylward. She is, at times, with her beaming heartfelt smile, radiant in the role. While the physicality of Bergman and Aylward were quite different (Aylward was 4’ 10” and plain in appearance), the actress maintains the air of dignity and humanism that Aylward obviously possessed. Her character’s transition from naïve do-gooder to seasoned, often shrewd bargainer and reformer is a seamless progression. Her initial shock at the cruelty of many Chinese traditions (beheadings, foot binding, concubines) is slowly inured to an acceptance of what she can possibly change and how she can spread the word. Bergman brings to the role Aylward’s empowering stalwartness, a trait that took an inconsequential maid from a dismissive England to the vast reaches of the East where she became a force for good in people’s lives. The result is a truly uplifting and heartfelt portrayal. 

Bergman had won her second Academy Award for Anastasia two years prior. She was back in good standing with the American movie going populous after her scandalous affair (consternation, uproar!) with director Roberto Rossellini. This was exactly the kind of picture she needed to solidify her standing as a true international star.

Production issues had hampered the start of shooting. The Chinese Government agreed to location access for the cast and crew but balked at the last moment when their demand for omitting all references to foot binding was not accepted. Production was then moved to the Elstree studio in Wales where a replica Chinese village was built. The hilly Welch countryside substituted for the mountainous northern region of China.

While epic and endearing, the film is not without the typical Hollywood baggage of the period. Curt Jüergens is oddly miscast as the Eurasian love interest of Aylward. The steely Austrian plays Lin Nan, actual friend to Aylward in real life, who was never her lover and was full-blooded Chinese. Jüergens is gruff, awkward, and Teutonic in the role, plodding through the forced romantic scenes with the grace of a golem.

Equally disturbing is the “yellow-face” of Robert Donat as the Mandarin. Donat was dying as he filmed the movie (he passed on shortly after production ended) and his illness (asthma) is not masked in the performance. What comes of it is a highly stylized, bizarre bit of acting that would be perceived as high camp if not for its tragic underpinnings. It’s like watching Crispin Glover as Fu Manchu dying of emphysema.

Another problem is the myriad of linguistic conventions used throughout the film. The decidedly Swedish-accented Bergman is playing British. Jüergens, with his Austrian inflection, is playing Dutch/Chinese (maybe that works in a strange way, who knows). Donat, an Englishman, is uneasily speaking Chinese at the film’s beginning, until the use of Peter Chong (Yang) as interpreter for Bergman is dropped, suggesting to the audience that everyone is speaking Chinese at all times now, despite the fact that only English is being spoken (in broken and British accents) by European and Chinese actors. If this all sounds a bit confusing and unrealistic, it’s because it is. A toast now, to subtitles!

Isobel Lennart’s script is based on the novel, The Small Woman, by Alan Burgess. By using a novel on Gladys Aylward’s life and the many conflicting accounts of her travels and deeds, Lennart is able to formulate events for the purposes of dramatic structure and film audience appreciation. Aylward’s original journey is mercifully condensed into a train ride montage. The assistance given to her by employer Sir Francis Jamison melts our perception of his stuffy, cold exterior, even though these events never occurred. Aylward’s fervent religiosity is toned down so as not to adversely affect a layperson’s admiration of her deeds. The happiness of six has been trimmed from eight. Aylward’s nickname “Ai-weh-deh” was changed to “Jen-ai” (“The one who loves people”) and the true predatory aims of missionary work were removed altogether.

As racist, imperialistic, and morally repugnant religious missionary work is at its core, it cannot be denied that the work of some of its individuals has been extraordinarily beneficial to some indigent societies in terms of health, medicine, food and basic necessities. Gladys Aylward, in spite of her misguided proselytizing, was one of these people - selfless, altruistic, and benevolent. Someone who eased suffering where she found it and in doing so, became a spiritual ambassador between her birthplace of England and her beloved adopted China.

The Inn of the Sixth Happiness is her story - an engaging epic, boasting a wonderful performance by Ingrid Bergman - full of adventure, culture clashes, war, strife, and inspiring humanitarianism.