For starters - I had always thought that actor Montgomery Clift was just another empty-headed, Hollywood "pretty-boy", and, basically, nothing more than that. But his portrayal in A Place In The Sun (APITS, for short) proved to me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was really quite a gifted performer.In my opinion, it was definitely Clift's heartfelt portrayal as the tragic George Eastman character who gave APITS's story of social snobbery and murder its depth and its meaning. I'd say that it was Clift, alone, who carried this film over its many flaws and clichés to its riveting, melodramatic conclusion.Yes. Of course, it certainly did help APITS's overall success that the gorgeous, 19-year-old Elizabeth Taylor was cast as Angela Vickers, the sole focus of George's hopes, his dreams and his burning desire.But once poor George became hopelessly involved with pretty, young Angela, this viewer could easily understand what heady and emotional turmoil drove him at first to contemplate and then commit the ultimate "crime of passion".If you ask me - I think that even today, 66 years later, this depiction of the "American Tragedy" holds up surprisingly well. It's a film that has somehow managed to avoid that inevitable "dated" feeling which seems to plague so many pictures from that particular era.

The heart of tragedy is when even the best choice implies the worst. The essence of tragedy is that you must make a choice. Which leads to the defining paradox of tragedy: you seem to have a choice, but in fact, you have none.George Eastman, a dark and thin young man made the choice of escaping from his impoverished and overly-religious background. With the kind of looks that go places, a tenacious ambition and a rich uncle, he was the perfect candidate for the American Dream, before becoming the fallen protagonist of "An American Tragedy", the title of the novel from Theodore Dreiser, from which George Stevens adapted "A Place in the Sun".The novel was written in the 20's and inspired a movie of the same name; it had such an impact that George Stevens' film was almost labeled a remake. But time has proved its partiality to Stevens and no movie lover can ignore this masterpiece of film-noir, reuniting two of the most talented and beautiful actors of their generation: the tormented and hypnotic Montgomery Clift and the woman of divine unequaled beauty, Elizabeth Taylor. This is a film we know before watching it as the shot of Liz Taylor's entrance with that white gown and Franz Waxman's score are already part of cinema's iconography.And one review isn't enough to cover all the elements that elevate the film, owing a lot to Stevens' confident directing. I can mention the use of dissolve shots to juxtapose between the blue-collar world and the aristocracy, the use of economical or the bold black-and-white photography emphasizing the darkening effect of ambition on Eastman's soul. The film also features some neatly done over-the-shoulder close-ups reinforcing the intimacy between Taylor and Clift, but beyond the technicalities: how about the raw material, the story? It's a simple triangular love mixed with clash of classes, but like in chemistry, the simplest elements, mixed together, can provoke the most dangerous and spectacular effects.But Eastman doesn't mix in the rich world first, he doesn't believe in becoming a front-office man, basking in an ocean of idleness, driving yachts and sipping cocktails with Ivy-league buddies and their trophy-girlfriends, he's come to his uncle asking for factory work and he gets it. This is a realistic guy whose feelings and ambitions are determined by the choices he can make, and he's wise enough to know his place and value it. So he works and then grows genuinely infatuated with his co-worker Alice, played by Shelley Winters. She's not exactly beautiful or glamorous but her gentleness radiates a sort of vulnerable beauty that is not lacking appeal, and the two youths form a nice couple, multiplying dates until the fateful one where Alice finally gives herself like any girl who believes she found her Charming Prince.But George had already found his Princess, only she was too inaccessible for even daring to approach her. But karma does rhyme with witch and like some sort of wicked curse, while it generally takes time to build a relationship; Angela falls in love with George as instantly as he does. This is not your typical love-at-first-sight, or maybe it is, but handled by Clift and Taylor, there's no way not to believe that these two people don't love each other. Angela is fascinated by George's morose intensity and devotion to his mama, he looks like an Eastman, which is good, but is different from them, which is even better. In one of the most memorable scenes, she even dares a "tell mama" as if she single-handedly overtaken the mother's status, confident that he would let such an intrepid move be made.And she couldn't be wrong, because if you had to define Eastman's feeling, all you've got to do is remember the most beautiful declaration of cinema's history: "I love you. I've loved you since the first moment I saw you. I guess I've even loved you even before I saw you" Angela is love, lust and pure mystical and irresistible attraction, and she's rich, wealthy, easygoing, free-spirited, and more than anything, she's "accessible". And poor Alice is no match, as soon as Angela illuminates the screen, what was left of Alice's attractiveness slowly fades and turns into the annoyance of a nagging plump with a bun in the oven. She is twice the victim because of the rejection and because she believed in George's love, ignoring that it was only determined by a choice made in a specific context, which had changed.A man's life is the sum of the choices he made and by choosing Angela over Alice, George gets himself in the kind of troubles that announces nothing good for the final act. But what can I say now without spoiling the film? Well, let's just state that "A Place in the Sun" is a milestone highlighting the significance of 1951 as a year where American cinema crossed new borders over censorship, portraying more troubled and sexually charged characters, Marlon Brando in "A Streetcar Named Desire" or Montgomery Clift were both men victims of impulses despite their genuine capability for love, men victims of their own flaws causing the downfall of gentler souls. That "An American in Paris" won the Best Picture of the year says a lot about Hollywood being behind the evolution of its time.The film still won 6 Oscars and is considered as the greatest film noir ever, and it is probably, as tragedy is the embodiment of film-noir and the film gave that overused word its fullest definition, the choice of the title is inspired too because by mentioning "A Place in the Sun" we hesitate between its interpretation as a character's driver or a lost dream, but however you look at it, Eastman's "place in the sun" embodies this iconic quote from Oscar Wilde: "There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it."

For starters - I had always thought that actor Montgomery Clift was just another empty-headed, Hollywood "pretty-boy", and, basically, nothing more than that. But his portrayal in A Place In The Sun (APITS, for short) proved to me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was really quite a gifted performer.In my opinion, it was definitely Clift's heartfelt portrayal as the tragic George Eastman character who gave APITS's story of social snobbery and murder its depth and its meaning. I'd say that it was Clift, alone, who carried this film over its many flaws and clichés to its riveting, melodramatic conclusion.Yes. Of course, it certainly did help APITS's overall success that the gorgeous, 19-year-old Elizabeth Taylor was cast as Angela Vickers, the sole focus of George's hopes, his dreams and his burning desire.Once poor George became hopelessly involved with pretty, young Angela, this viewer could easily understand what heady and emotional turmoil drove him at first to contemplate and then commit the ultimate "crime of passion".If you ask me, I think that even today, 65 years later, this depiction of the "American Tragedy" holds up surprisingly well. It's a film that has somehow managed to avoid that inevitable "dated" feeling which seems to plague so many pictures from that particular era.

Outstanding example of Hollywood craftsmanship, attention to detail, and sheer romanticism. The film takes up two key themes in American life--- class and morality, treating each with uncommon care. Consider the opening scene of the indigent George (Clift) standing roadside while cars whiz past, much as life seems to be brushing him aside. Mocking him at the same time is a billboard with a provocative girl advertising the Good Life. No wonder he rushes to his rich uncle Eastman's mansion where he hopes to join the fast cars and the beautiful girl, if he dare to hope so.That scene of his entering the mansion's huge reception room is to me one of the movie's best. In his cheap, wrong color suit, George couldn't be more self-conscious. How will the rich Eastmans' receive him, in their fancy party clothes ready for a night on the town. In fact, they are oh, so, polite, while keeping a social distance. After all, he does come from the poor family branch, his mother giving her life over to religious pursuits instead of money. For his brief visit, at least he gets a job on an Eastman assembly line. The scene itself is beautifully staged and performed, while Clift is simply terrific here as the uncertain, poor relation, all deference and submission.For awhile it looks like the cars will continue to whiz by as he repeats the same deadening moves on the assembly line. But at least he has someone now to share time with. Alice (Winters) is a dowdy working girl across from him. Lonely, they soon get together. But now life gets complicated for George. Suddenly, one day, he's promoted to administration; at the same time, he's invited to a party at the mansion. Eagerly, he attends, this time dressed appropriately and ready to please, but he's still bypassed by other guests. Then, in another memorable scene, lightning again strikes in the form of the beauteous Angela (note the classy name), who suddenly enters his solitary billiards room where he has retreated, friendless. Can it be, as they banter, that she's taking a real fancy to him with all her upper class ways. An unmistakable glow begins to emerge on screen, and it's a tribute to both Taylor and Clift that their chemistry is both vivid and compelling in this key scene that sets the stage for what follows. Now, it seems, a whizzing car has stopped for him and all he has to do is get in. But back at the rooming house waiting for him is Alice. Not just a reminder of the roadside life he'd like to leave, she's pregnant and insisting on marriage. So, on one hand, he's got the frumpy, working class Alice, alone and pregnant, and on the other, a budding romance with the glitzy, upper class Angela, who's opened the door to the billboard life he could only dream of. What's George to do. Then, in a gutsy scene for the repressed 1950's, Alice is sent to a doctor (Wolfe) for what, by inference only, is an abortion. The writers do a clever job getting her purpose across without violating the Production Code's prohibition on such frank talk. Nonetheless, the doctor firmly refuses, leaving both George and Alice in a real pickle.With his religious background, George still has a conscience even if he's deeply in love with Angela and drawn to her materialistic world. Thus, the question is which direction he will go in-- will he do the morally right thing and marry Alice or will he succumb to the pull of a glamorous life with Angela. In short, which is stronger: moral duty or romantic love. In a moment of moral weakness, George plans to relieve his dilemma by drowning Alice in a lake, seemingly the only recourse left open to a life with Angela. But fate (the call of the loon) intervenes and Alice accidentally tips over the small boat they're in. Importantly, the camera withdraws at that point to a distance shot so that we cannot see exactly what happens next. But Alice ends up dead by drowning, just as George had planned when giving false names to the boat rental. However, having escaped, George is now torn by a sense of guilt even as he and Angela plan to marry, the whizzing car door now open wide. But, it's at that fateful point, the cops put various clues together and arrest George for murder. But is he really guilty. We can't be sure since we never saw the exact events. It seems not even George is sure. If nothing else, at this point George is trying to come to grips with what his intention was vs. what actually happened in the water. Could he have saved her as the DA contends at George's trial. She couldn't have been far away, then why didn't he. George seems unclear himself. In a melodramatic moment, the DA (Burr) claims George struck Alice with a paddle, thereby insuring her death. But that is clearly wrong since we know what happened in the boat. But the jury apparently buys it, otherwise how could they sentence him to first-degree murder. Thus, the car door closes on George forever.The question is-what is George really guilty of. Is it just the intention but not the act itself. Or is it the act in some ill-defined sense. The movie settles for being guilty of a wrong thought at a crucial moment. That may be blameworthy in some metaphysical sense, but certainly doesn't justify his execution. As things stand George's sentence stands as a miscarriage of justice. In that sense the movie turns out to be a tragedy, particularly for Alice whose only crime is being poor and frumpy. The moral, I guess, is that what may seem an up- spiral may actually be its ironical opposite.Anyway, it's a brilliantly sensitive, thought provoking movie, deserving of its many awards.