For as long as audiences have been going to see films, the concept of the period drama has been a reliable source of entertainment. Having its roots in the theatre (since that was a medium that was notoriously more generous to chamber dramas set in the past, with the opportunity for gorgeous set design and striking costumes being quite appealing in terms of pure visual spectacle), it is not surprising that it withstood the test of time, remaining a consistent style of filmmaking from the earliest days of Hollywood to the present. Many tend to consider them to be a lazy form of filmmaking since they’re mainly driven by simple stories and strong visual aesthetics, rather than being invigorating and exciting on their own. One filmmaker who fought against these allegations in creative ways was William Wyler, who may not be viewed as being a particularly inventive or innovative director, but who was one of the most fascinating examples of a director moving from journeyman to auteur, his ability to oscillate between genres and essentially direct any kind of film with consistency and honesty being a remarkable skill, and one of the several reasons why he is considered one of the more well-rounded filmmakers to work during the Golden Age of Hollywood. Jezebel is rarely considered one of his best films, but it is a solid, well-made period drama in which he takes the play by Owen Davis Sr (in conjunction with screenwriters Clements Ripley, Abem Finkel and a very young John Huston) and turns it into a riveting, wonderfully complex historical drama that is as heartful as it is scintillating, every moment feeling like a genuine glimpse into the past, as curated by a director who mastered his craft, almost to the point where it became tedious since it could sometimes across as too conventional. Yet, despite these protestations, Jezebel is a decent film that carries itself with a lot of dignity, which is in itself quite an achievement, especially considering how easily this could have just been a dull endeavour based on the material.

If there is some immediate merit to Jezebel that is apparent from the start, it would probably be mostly related to how this story aims to present a vibrant and compelling portrait of life in the South at a very particular moment in time. American history is undeniably quite fascinating, and in this era (which is right at the heart of the Civil War, although it is never mentioned, quite a peculiar choice – it could be related to the fact that this film has the unfortunate distinction of featuring slaves, despite it being unnecessary to have such characters as they bear no relevance to the plot), there were certainly a lot of cultural developments that alone would make for quite a striking film. It is a work of speculation, as no one involved in the creation of this story lived during the period depicted throughout the film, including the playwright, who was oddly a member of the New England elite, oscillating between his native Maine and New York for most of his life. Therefore, Jezebel is not the most authentic film, nor is it one that is particularly memorable in terms of the kinds of stories being portrayed, since it was not formed from firsthand knowledge or even a cultural awareness, but rather the closest possible approximation to what a Southern period drama would look like, which is an interesting choice that we can appreciate if we look at the film as less of a social realist text, and more a piece of maximalist cinema that offers a melodramatic storyline more than a realistic one, which is often exactly what such material requires. Jezebel is indeed quite captivating, and it moves with a rapidity that is often quite remarkable in terms of how it handles some of these themes, which are drawn from a general cultural knowledge about the South and the various quirks, which are woven into the narrative, and executed with elegance by Wyler, who does his best to make this material far more interesting than it was on the page.

As two of the most dominant actors of the 1930s, it is not surprising that Bette Davis and Henry Fonda were paired together in this film – their youthfulness combined with their rich, deep talents make for profoundly fascinating performances that ground this film and make it so much more intriguing than it seems on the surface. Davis in particular commands the screen, which is not a rare occurrence from arguably the finest actor of her generation. You would imagine that the part of Julie would be one that any young actor could play, since she is nothing more than a flighty, overly zealous young woman who rebels against the standards of society, to the point where she becomes a recluse after her behaviour causes her entire future to be derailed, proving that she was unable to handle the consequences of her actions. Yet, Davis makes the role her own, portraying the character with a combination of wit and complexity that seems to be almost entirely defined by her acting style. It is not her best performance, but it is a role that she elevates to a place where it feels quintessentially her own, which was certainly something that happened with enough regularity to be one of her trademarks. Fonda plays her polar opposite, taking on the part of a moral young man who simply wants to settle into his life with his intended wife, but who is also not complacent enough to take her frequent attempts to challenge conventions, growing weary of her attitude to the point where his decision to step away from their relationship causes more trouble in their community than he initially imagined. Fonda is always fantastic, and his performance in Jezebel is both captivating and endearing – it is one in which all emotions are internalized for the most part, but it never feels as if he is getting lost in the fabric of the film, which is truly quite extraordinary in how it places these two remarkable actors across from one another and has them engage in a form of psychological warfare that is both entertaining and quite harrowing, which is the foundation from which the entire film is eventually constructed, with the help of a fantastic supporting cast and a generally very strong set of performances that are far more intriguing than they appear at first.

However, as much as we can praise Jezebel for its performances, this is ultimately a film that isn’t entirely sure of what it wants to be, nor is it particularly keen on developing its ideas to more than just the surface level. Wyler was a gifted filmmaker, but even he had his limitations, and considering the folk myth that this film only existed as a balm for Davis’ bruised ego after being turned down from the lead in Gone with the Wind (the validity of this story is still very much up for debate), it isn’t surprising the film is not particularly memorable outside of the performances. The best (and perhaps most generous) assessment we can give to this film as a whole is that it is most appealing to those who have a fondness for seeing great actors perform in stunning costumes because there isn’t much more to this film than that trivial and mostly inconsequential fact, which can be frustrating for those who yearn for something slightly more nuanced and complex. We are often naturally inclined to seek deeper meaning in most works of art unless we are implicitly advised against it, and a film like Jezebel seems like something that should have a lot more consequence than just being a run-of-the-mill Southern melodrama, especially considering this was an era where a lot of period dramas tended to have more complexity. It is not unfair to be disappointed that Jezebel isn’t the most complex of narrative, especially since it has a lot more heart than we may initially expect – but it ultimately serves a very simple purpose, and one that is not always particularly enticing once we realize where the film is heading. While I would be the first to praise this film for clocking in at a reasonable 100 minutes (since period dramas are often quite liberal when it comes to taking their time), considering the scope of ideas embedded in this narrative, we could argue that it deserved slightly more time to develop some of its themes, especially in the final act when we see the spread of an epidemic, by far the most interesting aspect of the film, but one that is mostly thrust into the background, being used as a conclusion rather than a fully-formed plot point all on its own, which can be slightly disappointing if we are seeking a more complex film.

Jezebel is a fine film, but it has its challenges that prevent it from being seen as one of the better films from this era. It is doubtful anyone will look at the people involved and genuinely believe it was the best that they were capable of doing, especially in light of some of their remarkable achievements both before and in the aftermath of this film. However, it is by no means a bad film, and everyone is doing solid work, enough to justify this film’s existence, at least on a purely narrative and conceptual level. There is very little dividing this film from every other run-of-the-mill period drama, so the viewer knows exactly what they are getting into when voyaging into this film, and hopefully will be able to have the patience to work through the story as it touches on many familiar themes, without doing anything particularly revolutionary. It is a solid film that is likely going to appeal mostly to those with a penchant for period dramas, more than those who are more hesitant to surrender to the charms of these films. It has its moments of excellence, and the two leads are exceptional enough to hold our attention, but it is overall a relatively paltry exercise in historical storytelling that never really amounts to anything of consequence, and essentially just exists purely for the sake of adapting this acclaimed play, as well as satiating those who had an appreciation for this kind of low-stakes, reliable form of filmmaking, where we are allured by the costumes and melodrama, enough to distract from the relatively middling storytelling that never really does much outside of the bare minimum for this kind of narrative.