How Green Was My Valley
A Memorial to the Pastoral Childhood
The year is 1939. The Second World War is peeking over the horizon. The only thing certain is change. Given this backdrop, it is hardly surprising that a young novelist would set his sights on the end of the 19th century where peaceful prosperity transitioned to a more precarious future. How Green Was My Valley, the most prominent work by British author Richard Llewellyn, would go on to win the National Book Award in 1940 and be adapted at least five times, including the 1941 Best Picture-winning film of the same name directed by John Ford.
Our narrator is Huw Morgan, who begins his story by telling the audience he is leaving South Wales for good. The years have been hard, with slag heaps from the coal mines blighting the once immaculate land. He is not the first of his many siblings to leave—members of the Morgan family are already situated in the United States, Patagonia, New Zealand, and Germany. If I may indulge myself, I find this short verse from Welsh writer Dylan Thomas quite fitting:
“I have longed to move away but am afraid;
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
Out of the old lie burning on the ground,
And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind.”
It is never explicitly stated where Huw is headed, or why, but the emphasis on the past tense indicates the land and people around him have seen better days, to say the least. All of the men in Huw’s family work in the colliery, or coal mine, coming home black with soot, but singing all the way. Music plays a strong role in this community, from an offscreen choir performance for Queen Victoria to a stirring rendition of Calon Lân at the wedding of Ivor, Huw’s brother, to his beloved Bronwen. Songs and religion are the bulwarks against the world outside of their idyllic valley. There is a looming presence of the English, whether by a school teacher who dispenses capital punishment to students who speak Welsh in his presence or Home Secretary Winston Churchill who deploys English soldiers to combat one of the many coal worker strikes. The relationship of England with her fellow countries of the United Kingdom is not uncommon in fiction. How Green Was My Valley was published in 1939, but that theme continues well into newer works like Trainspotting (Scotland) and Derry Girls (Northern Ireland), amongst others. There is love and respect for England, via the Queen and London as a city and symbol. There is also rivalry against the other smaller nations in the United Kingdom—one of the three times Huw remembers his father getting drunk is after the eldest brother, Davy, scores a try for the national team in a rugby match against Scotland. There is much talk about Welsh law, the type where men settle their own scores, and English law, where police and courts get involved. The Welsh take great pride in the lack of a police station in their valley, and its arrival is a major indication their way of life is at risk of vanishing. Everyone is beating down the people of this valley, even the residents themselves. Huw wants to defend their way of life. Huw, an intelligent and dedicated scholar, has no desire to go to university (his headmaster suggests Oxford in the book, his father suggests Cardiff in the film). He wants to be like his father and brothers and have a good, if not glamorous life. In parts excised for the film, Huw becomes a master carpenter in the village after a brief stint in the mines. How Green Was My Valley is a memorial for a pastoral way of life ripped from the people of Wales in favor of capitalism and the progress it purports to bring.
This push and pull between members of the Commonwealth is made even more fascinating because although Llewellyn claimed the story was based on his childhood it was discovered after his death he was actually born in England. I do not hold this against Llewellyn, he is hardly the first author to invent a biography in order to sell a book. By all accounts, Llewellyn did his research, so much so that screenwriter Phillip Dunne read the book “in horror” and complained most of the text was “turgid stuff, long speeches about Welsh coal miners on strike”. This is a weird quote, because I think 100% of the dialogue and narration is lifted directly from the novel.
But, to the screenplay. The story is much streamlined on screen. A few episodes are moved around on the timeline with no major consequence, but the largest change is bringing the love story between Angharad, Huw’s sister, and the local pastor, Mr. Gruffydd (pronounced Griffith), to center stage. This is a smart choice. Many of the themes from the novel are shifted to their character arcs. This comes at the cost of a love triangle between two of Huw’s brothers, Owen and Gwilym, and a girl named Marged. It is a strangely enchanting plot line, but sad and concludes on an extremely depressing note. I’m less eager to say goodbye to the two of Huw’s sweetheart romances with classmates Shani and Ceinwen, which are wonderful portraits of young love. It is understandable why they were removed—apart from a blink and you’ll miss it cameo by Ceinwen in the schoolyard—to maintain a two hour runtime.
The film ends where the second act, more or less, ends in the book. It delivers the fate of Mr. Gruffydd as the emotional climax of the story and the original ending as the de facto denouement. The only issue with the truncation is by ending where it does, we never see Huw grow up and truly become the man that is the narrator we meet at the onset. In that way, Ford’s film is a boyhood tale rather than a full bildungsroman—a literary term for coming of age tales that directly translates from German to “education novel”.
I would be remiss without a brief plaudit of John Ford. Known for his westerns like My Darling Clementine and The Searchers, How Green Was My Valley is, in every meaning of the word, a masterpiece. Ford wanted to film in Wales in technicolor. He got neither of those requests for obvious reasons. Instead, 20th Century Fox took over 80 acres in the Santa Monica Mountains, one of the most beautiful places in the world, but hardly Wales. No matter. There is terrific work from every department and well deserved Academy Awards for Best Director (Ford), Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Donald Crisp), Best Cinematography, Black-and-White (Arthur C. Miller), and an extremely deserved win for Best Art Direction-Interior Decoration, Black-and-White (Richard Day, Nathan Juran, Thomas Little). The lighting is thoughtful in every single shot, often framing the actors as moving portraits. The shadows are so crisp and always intentional. I would be remiss without mentioning the fantastic sets themselves, with special recognition of the snow covered river, the daffodil field, and the flooded mine.
An adaptation in every way, from the British author reminiscing about a nonexistent Welsh youth to only one Welsh national in the cast, How Green Was My Valley makes the grade on the page and on the screen.
Here’s a preview of our upcoming calendar, in case you’d like to follow along—
June 30 - Alexander Hamilton (streaming on Disney+)
July 7 - Normal People (streaming on Hulu)
July 14 - Superman (in theatres July 11)
July 28 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (streaming on Max)