. . . part of the multitudes I contain includes the 1943 film classic Lassie Come Home. It’s one of those rare films that if I watch it for one minute, I’m hooked.

What is it about a film like Lassie Come Home that allows so many emotions to be channeled directly from my subconscious into my tear ducts? I know many have a hard time watching what they deprecatingly call tearjerkers, but to that, I say in macho Rhett Butlerian fashion, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” I think most of us, especially men perhaps, have deep reservoirs of unfelt feelings that necessarily need to be jerked and one of the ways I jerk mine is watching this fine old Lassie film. 

Recently, however, I found myself still a bit hesitant to mention my Lassie-loving emotions to my closest friend, who finds these films far beneath him, so I thought I’d check Rotten Tomatoes, hoping against hope that I might get a little lightweight ammunition to strengthen my position. I was shocked to see that the Tomato critics gave Lassie Come Home 96%! Wow! Maybe I’m not as alone on loving this film as I thought. And just for fun I thought I’d check out what the critics gave Argo, one of the inexplicably and ridiculously over-praised current flicks. And what do you think? 96% also! 70 years later Lassie is still getting the ratings of a current blockbuster. And for my money, Lassie is a much more nuanced actor than Ben Affleck will ever be. Actually I should have been outraged that Lassie didn’t do better than the totally boring Affleck flick. Major Eric Knight, the author of Lassie Come Home, wrote a lovely, simple story that was made into a truly heartwarming and inspiring film. Affleck took a remarkably intense true-life story and made it totally boring—an almost impossible feat that he was able to accomplish.

Anyway, let’s forget about the bland and boring Affleck and focus on the harrowing story of Lassie. The director, Fred Wilcox, had a wonderful cast in this MGM film, including the great Edmund Gwenn (Miracle on 34th Street), who plays a traveling peddler and is one of the few actors in the history of filmdom who rivals Lassie in charm. And what a fine actor the young Roddy McDowall was. There are moments in his performance, playing Joe, a young boy from Yorkshire who loves Lassie without reservation, that rival the performance of any child actor I can remember.

I’d never really thought much about why this movie has so often been able to add a little extra salt to my popcorn as the emotions flowed, but that’s one thing I’m enjoying so much about writing for this blog. I actually have a reason to go inside and ask myself questions. I guess the answers for the most part are quite obvious in this case. Lassie is genuinely loving and loyal, two qualities which seem to be in short supply these days. I know I have certainly been betrayed a number of times by people I thought would always be loyal but who in the end fell far short of Lassie’s loyalty. And Lassie proved herself to not only be loyal when it was convenient. Even after being sold by Joe’s family to a wealthy duke out of financial necessity and taken hundreds of miles away to Scotland, she continued to have but one thought: I have to get back to Joe! (I’m mind-reading now—she may have had other thoughts as well). 

Luckily little Priscilla, 11-year-old Elizabeth Taylor, the duke’s granddaughter, snatches a chance opportunity to let Lassie escape. Her grandfather is momentarily shocked by her action but all is well when Priscilla squeals with delight, “She’s going toward south, grandfather; she’s going toward Yorkshire!” Corny maybe, but totally delightful and as one watches Lassie run toward Yorkshire, there is a vicarious thrill for anyone who has been in a situation one has wanted desperately to flee from. And who hasn’t?

After her escape, Lassie runs along the rocks next to the sea until her feet are bloodied, then off through rain and thunder until she becomes painfully bedraggled; next she’s shot at and wounded because she can’t read a No Dogs Allowed sign, and, although totally wasted and malnourished, swims a very wide river between Scotland and England and collapses almost dead near the cottage of an elderly couple who carry her into their home. The listless Lassie is nursed back to health by the elderly Dally (Dame May Whitty), who says to the almost comatose Lassie with immense pride, “Did ya swim the river girl, did ya swim all that way to get from Scotland into England?”  I’ll bet the old Liverpuddlian Dame May absolutely delighted in reading that line.

Of course Dally and her husband fall hopelessly in love with Lassie, whom Dally respectfully calls “herself,” but when “herself” is well enough to move about, she starts looking at the clock a little before 4 PM each day. This was the time she always left home when in Yorkshire to meet Joe (Roddy McDowall) when he got out of school. After a few days of Lassie looking longingly at the clock and whining in desperation to get out of the house, Dally finally admits to herself her worst fears that Lassie “is going somewhere,” that Lassie had only stopped with her and her husband to recuperate and was just too polite to leave them without their permission. Hesitantly they open the cottage door and walk with “herself” to the garden gate. They open the gate and Dally, with as much classic restraint as she can muster (which isn’t much), bids Lassie farewell. And with one final look back, Lassie is off to Yorkshire once again and onto many more harrowing adventures before finally dragging herself into her little Yorkshire cottage where she collapses, too starved to even eat. But with her last bit of energy she realizes it’s almost 4 PM and with that famous British stiff upper lip, limps loyally off to school to meet Joe. OMG! Where is her human counterpart??? OK, I know some of you are thinking, How sappy can you get? And perhaps if there weren’t similar stories of real-life Lassie’s, I could agree that you have a minusculey tiny point.  But the fact is, there are. There are dozens of true stories of animals traveling hundreds of miles to find those they care about most as well as doing many other feats that are equally remarkable and moving. 

As a matter of fact, as I write this I am taken back to a time in the late ’70s when the first of my three all-time favorite cats, Mullen (the other two were Big Puss and Little Puss) showed some of the same psychic, determined, and courageous qualities that Lassie showed. 

Mullen was my cat when I lived up Beachwood Canyon under the famous Hollywood sign. He’d often walk with me at dusk into the hills, more like a dog than a cat. But after many years of living in Hollywood, I decided it was time to head into the woods and out of the smog, so loving Washington State, I bought 10 acres there and decided to build a little house beneath the giant fir trees. I sold my Bentley to an ex-mouseketeer, sold my house, and bought an old pickup. I built a makeshift covering over the bed of the pickup out of plywood and began packing up my belongings. This took about two weeks, and since Mullen, like most cats, hated traveling in any kind of vehicle, I built a special large, very strong cardboard box for him with some fluffy pillows and enough small air holes so he would have plenty of fresh air to breathe. Finally the day arrived that we needed to head for Washington but Mullen was nowhere in sight. I looked for him for several hours, but surprisingly even the old can-opener tricks weren’t working to get his attention. Finally I spotted his little head as it poked up from my neighbor’s large ivy patch. It was as if, like Lassie’s 4PM inner clock, he knew this was moving day and knew he didn’t plan to move anywhere . . . so finally I had to have the last word. I plucked Mullen from the ivy and put him kicking and screaming into the strong box, put the box into the bed of the pickup, and off toward our new life we went. I hated having him alone in the back but thought he’d travel more comfortably that way once he settled down. A few minutes later, I turned onto one of the many freeways heading out of LA and rolled down my window and then rolled down the passenger-side window about a third of the way to get some ventilation as I buzzed along the highway at 70 miles per hour or so. Turning on some music, I started dreaming about the cottage I was going to build in the woods. I’d travelled about 10 miles when I was shocked out of my daydream by something flying through the small opening in the passenger side window. What in the world was that? I could hardly believe my eyes. It was my amazing cat! How in the heck did he do that? Quickly I pulled over to the side of the freeway and looked in the back to find a large hole torn out of the box. Somehow Mullen had ripped his way out, climbed from the truck bed and up onto the top of the covering I’d built for the pickup. Then in some miraculous way he was able to crawl all the way along the top of the covering until he reached the cab of the pickup. This in itself was extraordinary at the fast speed the pickup was moving. But it was unbelievable that Mullen was then able to jump from the pickup cover around to and through that little opening in the window and sail safely as you please into the passenger seat. I really believe that this act of gymnastics was equal, if not surpassing, anything the Flying Wallendas ever accomplished. Truly remarkable.

Of course, unlike Mullen’s amazing feat, one of the great things about Lassie Come Home is that on the screen, this kind of animal daring do can be appreciated forever in living Technicolor by thousands of people for generations to come. And I for one am grateful to Lassie and MGM for taking me once again along on this adventure, filled with love, courage, gentleness, determination and loyalty that transcends what all but the most genuine people seem to attain. But if we really watch a film like this with an open heart, a willingness to feel, we can all be lifted up, at least a little, as we are stimulated by “herself”‘s fine qualities. So perhaps the tears come from seeing a purity of feelings, a gentleness and strength of spirit that that permeates this film but sadly seems to be slipping farther and farther away in the world around us. When I look around today at politicians, Wall Street crooks who have no remorse, the corrupt ways in which so many governments and businesses are run, the greed, the stupidity of so many, even privileged athletes and pop-culture stars, and the dishonesty and cruelty of so many in the world, it is incredibly refreshing to see through Lassie’s loving eyes and hear the simple sentiment of Donald Crisp, who plays Joe’s father. “Back of it all, Joe, a chap has got to be honest . . . and there’s a funny thing about honesty, there’s no two ways about it, there’s only one way about it. Honest is honest.” 

If some of the fine feeling and sentiment of Lassie Come Home were to be breathed in deeply by the people on this planet, Lassieism could become a viable new religion. But since that could take a wee bit of time, I’ll try to emulate as many of Lassie’s qualities as I can and I hope many of you will do the same. What can I tell you? I love Lassie!

*An interesting side note.  Much of Lassie’s story like the story of Mullen actually takes place in Washington State, USA! I’ve got to admit I’d thought for years that the film was shot in England and Scotland. Who knew?