This unusual offering from M-G-M recalls the days of the short-lived M-G-M British Studios, which produced "A Yank at Oxford", "The Citadel", and the original "Goodbye, Mr. Chips", all in the 1930's. "Edward, My Son", based on a successful British play, was filmed entirely in England, using an entirely British cast,except for Spencer Tracy, and an almost entirely British production staff (the sole exceptions are the producer, the director, and the composer of the music). The familiar M-G-M production gloss is much more subdued here, perhaps in an effort to lend atmosphere.
Spencer Tracy gives an outstanding performance in what is very likely the most unsympathetic role of his career, save for perhaps a few very early gangster roles which I have not seen. Here he is Arnold Boult, a ruthless, driven man who seemingly just wants to make sure that his only child Edward always has the best in life. At first, Boult wins our sympathy by secretly trying to give his son medical care he desperately needs, but we quickly learn what he is really like as he resorts to every dirty trick in the book, short of actual murder, to insure his son's happiness, and showing an amazing insensitivity and callousness to those around him in the process. As the film proceeds, his behavior shocks us more and more, until he finally alienates and disgusts us completely.
Matching Tracy's performance every step of the way, though she has far less time on screen, is Deborah Kerr in the role of Boult's victimized and emotionally scarred wife. Kerr was nominated for an Oscar for this performance, and her portrayal of a woman who goes from adoring wife to a totally embittered woman with a severe problem, is wrenching. Mervyn Johns, whom many will immediately recognize as Bob Cratchit to Alastair Sim's Scrooge in the 1951 film, also gives a touching, heartbreaking performance as Tracy's exploited and totally broken business partner.
The supporting cast here has quite a different flavor from those in the usual M-G-M film. Although Ian Hunter plays his usual sympathetic role, the other actors are all culled from the British theater, and give their roles an unusual depth missing from the typical Metro supporting cast. Tracy, though, occasionally seems miscast--one wonders what an actor with more bite, such as Orson Welles, might have brought to the role.
In spite of this, the film is quite good, and Tracy's final monologue (he talks straight to the audience at times, a technique taken from the play) packs quite a punch.
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