‘In all Wales, there was none so beautiful...’
In the last few months, I’ve watched a bunch of John Ford films, a bunch of Westerns and a bunch of kitchen sink dramas. It feels like a natural progression then to arrive upon the dulcet tones of How Green Was My Valley – essentially a western but set in Wales, directed by Ford and concerning the kind of working-class heroes that dominate the kitchen sink movement. You know it’s set in Wales because everyone is singing the whole time…
Huw Morgan (Roddy McDowall on screen and Irving Pachel as the older narrator) relays the story of his family – a God-fearing bunch holed up in the lush valleys of Wales. Overseen by strong-willed patriarch Gwilym (Donald Crisp) and severe Irish matriarch Beth (Sara Allgood), the Morgan family must overcome financial hardships and local hostilities to fund Huw’s burgeoning intellect.
If you were to fashion a bingo card of working-class cliches then you would be dabbing furiously throughout How Green Was My Valley. Coal mines. Drunks. A bullied child sent back to school to fight. A long-suffering wife chastising her husband by using his full name. Flat caps. BINGO. But when it is as beautifully presented as this, it doesn’t matter. It should also be noted that many of those cliches originated here rather than the other way around. Ford, one of the most American Americans of all time, does a surprisingly great job of portraying life in a working-class mining community. His American roots ensure that everything is tinged with the ghosts of the Great Depression (Ford also directed the film adaptation of the Depression-era classic The Grapes of Wrath), and this makes for a heady mix, particularly as the cast is so accomplished and the dialogue so rich.
How Green Was My Valley won five Oscars in 1942, including Best Picture, and it is a testament to Ford and to the power of working-class communities that the film remains captivating and compelling all these years later. A true classic.