Don't get me wrong. I LIKE Now, Voyager (Warner Brothers, 1942, Bette Davis, Claude Rains, Paul Henreid). In fact, I watch it once a year or so, when winter is icky and dreary and I feel like taking a cruise to Brazil only I don't have the money because I spent it all on pens and inks. And maybe some paper. Plus, this film contains Claude Rains, and if that weren't enough, the icy, inimitable Gladys Cooper, and also that actress who plays a different Nursie-Poo in The Man Who Came To Dinner (also 1942, also Bette Davis): Mary 'Just Call Me Nursie-Poo' Wickes.
So this repressed Boston spinster (Davis) meets Dr. Claude Rains, who quotes her this poem ending in, 'Now, voyager,' and she goes forth and meets Kirk and Spock and a giant alien Entity...no, wait, wrong movie.
She goes forth on this cruise I can't afford and turns all glamourous and has a totally illicit affair with a married man (Henreid) whose accent is so thick you could use it for pate. His younger daughter has a complex because she thinks she's not wanted. She's such a puling little drip no wonder.
Somewhere along the line, Mr. Accent gives Davis a bunch of camellias. Then there's talk about the moon and the stars. Thee end.
V'ger is that which programmed me. Take that, you carbon units!
Oh, wait, right. Fountain pens and socks. Davis knits in one scene. Could have been socks. Maybe.
If this movie was an ink, it would be Iroshizuku Ajisai. Because hydrangeas are totally the same as camellias, right?