The one who walked alone The film is based on the book Novelyn Price, a teacher from Louisiana, who, already a very old lady, published her memoirs about herself and "the greatest tabloid writer in the entire vast world," Robert E. Howard.
“The Whole Huge World” is not a love story, it has no realized love and, despite the obvious point at the end, it seems to have no end, since along a winding country road surrounded by corn fields, a young man with a suitcase in his hand still walks with a heavy gait. It's a story of friendship, but there was so much passion in it that it's heartbreaking. Passion, which due to the difficult character of Robert Howard, remained an unblossoming bud. Why? I often asked Bob this question with bitterness and indignation, and each time I found his arguments irrelevant. Why, Bob? Howard's motives were once explained to me by my husband; the film in some incomprehensible way captivated even him - a man very far from the genre of melodrama.
Fans of Howard know the details of his biography, but those who just sat down to watch "The Whole Big World" do not need to know them. When the movie accidentally landed in my hands about 10 years ago, I didn’t know what it was about, but it’s been in my heart ever since. Strange, isn't it? A modest, unknown and uninteresting tape built on characters and dialogues, very far from Gone with the Wind and Singing in the Thorn, with the latter, however, similar to the fact that the feelings lived, burrowed and burned, but the bird with a thorn in her chest sang only once, just before she died.
They were young, lived in Texas and met in the summer of 1934. Novelyn Price taught literature, lived with her mother and grandmother, went on dates, went to the movies to the movies of Earl Flynn, baked charlottes and until the end of her days planned to live in her hometown. She was not beautiful, but a nice smile, a smart look, friendliness and a kind heart helped her to be on great terms with the world. She was one of those happy natures who did not poison the soul with empty hopes, but knew how to enjoy the most ordinary things.
Bob Howard, who was already published by well-known magazines, also lived a quiet provincial life in his parental home, but, unlike Novelyn, despised the limited, stupid neighbors-villages, led a reclusive lifestyle, dressed simply, had only a car out of excess, was distinguished by quick temper, rudeness, and found pleasure only in creativity, fiction, among brave warriors, monsters and adventure. He was close to only one person, his mother, who had supported him from the very beginning, believed that he was a writer, while society branded him lazy, having no “normal” job: I disgust to touch one of his novels! He's crazy! Novelyn Price didn't think so.
When she met him, she saw something in Robert that no one else had seen. The mind, the humor, the conviction, the great storyteller who plunged her so deeply into her fictional world that she heard the ringing of swords and the clock flew like seconds. He was as if from another test, from another era, the most unusual of her acquaintances, and she reached out to him, despite Howard’s temper, his categoricalness, the complete difference of views from her own, in some ways philistine worldview. And yet Bob's father, a local doctor, once told her, 'My son is a stranger to me, Miss Price. He does not let me into his inner world, unlike you. In this world, however, dissent was not encouraged, and Novelyn often wanted to send Howard to hell.
At first, she did not object to him, but as the friendship grew stronger, her arguments became more tenacious, her voice became more vocal, the notes became more furious, and the arguments became more fierce. Sasha, my husband, even indignant: "He's crazy - so rude to the girl?". They parted, Bob tore and threw, Novelyn was angry and complained angrily about him to her mother, called him unbearable, but then he came to pick her up, and they again began to travel through the sun-scorched expanses of Texas, watch the sunset, hide from the showers. They were very different, but Novelyn believed that it could be overcome.
During a smoking break, I asked Sasha what he thought Novelyn felt about Bob. My husband, by the time he was 26 years old, an experienced expert and psychologist, said, "Passion." “Do you think she doesn’t love him?” she asked. 'He's outstanding, that's what attracts him, but at this rate she'll send him soon - a little bit more.' Bob pats his ears, and she will go away from him to a normal man who not only speaks his tongue, but also kisses a girl on a date.
As a woman tormented by uncertainty, Novelyn took the first step, Howard immediately bounced back three, and my husband was right. A simple accountant could not take the land from under her feet, but was ready to become a husband and father. Howard took this painful blow with an explosion of indignation, called the girl a traitor and turned his back on her. She sent him to the Devil, but the relationship somehow survived, as if the thread connecting them was not so easy to break. Sasha shook his head: “I was wrong, there is not only passion.”
As the credits swam to the beautiful guitar music, my annoyed husband said, 'I knew it would end! For the first twenty minutes, I thought I was a normal man, and my tongue was hanging, and then I went! Mama's son, shame on the man! They see the girl, they want her, but they do not know what to do with her! Fool! Baby! It was a passion. To put it delicately, there are men for whom the simplest things are infinitely complicated, and I don’t think the reason for that is creative. The same was Anthony Hopkins' butler in The Remains of the Day, the same were other hardened bachelors whom life gave a chance, but they, often due to imaginary insolvency, did not use them.
I think Sasha wouldn't be so angry if Howard didn't like him. Bob was an expressive, colorful, immensely charismatic personality that, if you were lucky enough to get to know better, you couldn’t help but love. Novelyn is beautiful and worthy of all admiration.
Bottom line: if you’re going to watch The Whole Big World, please don’t run through it, don’t judge it superficially – open your heart to it, and you’ll see much more of what’s available to your eyes and ears. It's a personal, immensely dear story in which I adore Vincent and Renee. That's what Novelyn and Bob were to me. I’ve seen a million melodramas and a million on-screen kisses, but I haven’t seen a kiss like this anywhere else.
10 out of 10