Contrary to what many people may believe, crafting any work of well-made romance is a challenge. This isn’t applicable to the endless stream of cheap, disposable stories that think that lust and desire are adequate stimuli for a relationship, but rather those rare works that touch on issues much deeper than carnal cravings. Few texts have been able to capture this with more precision than The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, the novel written by Josephine Leslie (who worked under the more neutral pseudonym of R.A. Dick, writing at a time when female authors were seen as inferior in a male-dominated industry). The story, which focuses on a young widow who finds herself falling hopelessly in love with the ghost of a sea captain who haunts the home that she rents with her young daughter. The novel, which was well-received at the time, but not particularly popular (at least not enough to be considered a work of great literature) was translated to screen, becoming one of the great cinematic romances of the 1940s. Adapted from the novel by director Joseph L. Mankiewicz, who was rapidly establishing himself as one of the most consistently reliable and visionary American directors (deviating from the status of a mere director-for-hire, which he seemed to be earlier in his career), The Ghost and Mrs. Muir is one of the finest films of its period, a beautifully poetic and nuanced work that combines many genres and conventions to form a striking story of finding love in the most unexpected places. A film that has aged considerably well as time has gone on, it remains a stunning work that feels brimming with life, which is a peculiar sensation, considering the subject matter.
It would have been extremely easy for The Ghost and Mrs. Muir to be unintentionally absurd, especially since the story lends itself to a more humorous tone, whether deliberate or not. Ultimately, looking at the film from an objective perspective, it is about a woman falling in love with a grizzled ghost of a sea captain, which sounds like the foundation for a charming but slight comedy – or in an extreme case, a truly grim and uncomfortable film that borders on horror, considering the subject matter. Only Mankiewicz, who was a master of tone, could command his craft to the point of making it an absolutely magnificent melodrama that leans more into the ethereal side of the story than it does the macabre (and he refuses to cut out the vital details, such as the titular ghost having supposedly committed suicide, which is addressed directly and without the use of euphemism, a revolutionary choice for a major studio film at the time), which ultimately elevates the film far beyond just a standard romance with fantastical elements. There’s an enchanting quality to The Ghost and Mrs. Muir that is difficult to grasp at first, since we are never sure where this very unique scenario will lead – ultimately, it’s a film that relies on the viewer’s willingness to suspend disbelief and just go along with the story, knowing that we will be duly rewarded for placing our trust in the director, and the result being a substantially moving story of romance that can rival any other more conventional entries into a genre that is often criticized for its overt reliance on traditions, with Mankiewicz openly, and without any hesitation, aims to dismantle with this peculiar curio of a film.
The Ghost and Mrs. Muir is certainly an unorthodox film, and a lot of this has to do with how the characters are developed. The film appears like a relatively conventional story of a woman finding love from an unexpected source, with her lover being someone who is rough around the edges and a true work in progress, setting off the central conflict that entails their efforts to work through the challenges to fully embrace their love. Obviously, this is a film about the love affair between a mortal and a ghost, so this was naturally going to be slightly more complex than it would appear at first. Gene Tierney was at a good place in her career, being a consistently well-rounded actress capable of working in a wide range of genres. Playing half of the titular duo, she is wonderful – she captures the heartbreak and melancholy of a woman desperately doing her best to start over, which she realizes is a lot easier said than done. Acting across from her is Rex Harrison, who is the epitome of roguish charm as the sea captain with whom she starts a platonic friendship that eventually flourishes into a romance, despite the fact that they are separated by the very literal boundary of life and death. The chemistry between the two leads is simply astronomical – as far as the viewer is concerned, the rest of the cast barely exists (which is impressive, considering the film boasts the likes of George Sanders and a very young Natalie Wood in supporting roles), and they carry the entire story, convincing us at every turn that these are people who genuinely feel a fondness for one another. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir would not have been successful without actors who could convincingly play these roles, and both Tierney and Harrison commit entirely to giving performances that can handle the shifting tone without deviating from the very authentic characterization that drives the film and makes it so memorable.
As much as we can reiterate how complex and beautifully constructed the film is, it doesn’t mean that The Ghost and Mrs. Muir is not entertaining – in many ways, this is one of the most unexpectedly moving romantic comedies of its era, which may not be obvious from the outset, especially since it is never designed to act as such, but rather finds humour in the process. Mankiewicz is not hesitant to lean into the more abstract concepts that underpin the story – the film only exists because it occurs as a result of the triangulation of romance, fantasy and comedy, ordered by how important they are to the narrative, and how much attention is given to each one of them. The romantic aspects of the story are only supplemented by the ethereal quality of the more fantastical details, and the humour bolsters both of them, reminding the viewer that this film may seem serious, but that there is still an inherent comedic touch to the proceedings, something that becomes increasingly clear throughout the film, and which Mankiewicz often implemented into his productions – his ability to use levity as a carefully-calculated tool to shade in the more ambigious spaces in his stories made for frequently engaging, thrilling cinema. Ultimately, most of what makes The Ghost and Mrs. Muir are those details that could only come about through taking a few risks, which the director clearly had very little hesitation in doing. Had he not endeavoured to lean into the more bold elements of the story, regardless of how challenging it may have been to balance all of them, it’s unlikely that we would have received a film quite as ambitious as this, which is precisely the reason it has withstood the test of time, and remained one of the most cherished films of its era.
Time has ultimately been the greatest gift given to The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, which has remained the gold standard for romantic cinema. It may not be the most sweeping love story, nor the one that is the most innovative, whether narratively or creatively, but it carries with it a heartfulness that is difficult to ignore. Invigorating in a way that many classic era romances tended to be, and often avoiding cliche in places that a lesser film may entirely depend on them, Mankiewicz puts together a vibrant, captivating story of romance that is both soaring in passion and wonderfully lighthearted, understanding its limitations and relying on its strengths to distract from the occasional narrative shortcoming that may threaten the overall experience. Bitterly caustic at certain points, but magnificent in both scope and intention, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir is a classic for a number of reasons, and whether we look at the wonderful performances from the two leads, the ambitious story pulled from the pages of a decent novel that could have been misconstrued as an excuse for hopelessly overwrought storytelling, or the incredible and precise direction with which Mankiewicz executes the film, this is an absolute triumph, a charming and enticing drama that is more than just a cross-dimensional romance, serving as the convergence of many fascinating concepts, all tied together neatly by a director whose ability to tell strong stories in a way that is always enthralling remains almost undefeated, with this film being one of his greatest achievements, and a tremendously poignant work all on its own terms.
The Postmodern Pelican 
In 1945, Frank Capra has returned from active duty in Europe. He wanted to make a film that would restore people’s lost hope following the Great War. It’s A Wonderful Life was a great artistic success and a stunning commercial failure. After such horrific events around the world, the challenge of reintroducing veterans to communities, and the deep bereavement for the loss of so many, audiences simply did not want to see a story of a suicidal man and the apprentice angel sent to aid him.
A year later and attitudes had shifted. Suddenly, movie goers were flocking to stories which featured ghosts, angels and even Santa Claus. The Bishop’s Wife addressed a married couple who had grown apart, a not uncommon occurrence for many who were reunited after months and even years of absence. The bishop prays for guidance and receives it from an angel named Dudley. Faith is restored, while the bishop and his wife rekindle their love that had cooled. Miracle on 34th Street addressed Doris Walker, a divorced mother who chooses not to indulge her elementary school age daughter Susan in fantasies like fairy tales and a belief in Santa Claus. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir addressed a grieving widow who seeks to quell her loneliness with the spirit of a sea captain who inhabits an oceanside cottage she occupies with her young daughter.
The headstrong widow with a young daughter rents a haunted cottage on the English seashore. The ghost has driven all previous tenants running, but Mrs. Muir quickly wins the affection of the apparition. The conceit of the fantasy here is that because the romantic pair are a living woman and a ghost, they can never touch.
That leaves the sizeable dilemma of presenting a visual love story in which the lovers never hold one another, kiss, or even join hands. The heat between the deceased Captain Daniel Gregg and the widowed Lucy Muir must be conveyed in gazing into one another’s eyes, heightened emotions that are revealed in verbal exchanges and behaviors.
The sexual tension arises early in the film. Mrs. Muir is undressing for the bed. As she begins to untie a ribbon at her throat and unbutton her blouse, she stops. Wordlessly, she recognizes that the Captain, a spirit, can observe her. She modestly drapes a lap robe over Daniel’s portrait that hangs in her bedroom. The scene shifts and the nightgown attired Mrs. Muir climbs into bed. She sighs and closes her eyes. They quickly pop open and she sits up when we hear the deep manly voice of the ghost who is not seen state, “Never let anyone tell you that you don’t have a fine figure.”
Rex Harrison gives a tremendous performance as Captain Daniel Gregg. The seaman’s death was ruled a suicide. While the skilled sailor blusters that the death was accidental, there is a undertone that leaves the viewer wondering. His physical presence is quite imposing. Harrison speaks with a deep baritone, different than that in his Oscar winning role in My Fair Lady. His barrel chest, finely manscaped facial hair, and resonating voice create an attractive leading man.
The stunningly beautiful Gene Tierney doesn’t shy away from demonstrating a widow’s grief for the loss of a marriage bed. During the course of the story, Mrs. Muir, in addition to her spiritual love affair with the ghost of Captain Gregg, begins a romance with a living, breathing man, a children’s book author. Now the lonely mother must choose between a profound but sexless love or an active sex life with a man she is fond of.
In the immediate period following World War II more women in the audience faced this choice more often than might be acknowledged. The National Institute of Health and US Library of Medicine completed a joint study showing that over 600,000 men returned from the war with various afflictions, both mental and physical, that left the veterans disabled – sexually. Tierney may play the romance quite chastely, but she never allows the audience to doubt what Lucy truly wants or what she will choose. For men in the audience who were suffering such maladies, the film was not a comfort.
Rather, the film in the guise of romantic comedy addressed the grief for absent sexual partners and disabled ones. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir was a landmark film about the emotions addressed by survivors from battle and on the home front after WWII.