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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just fell for this movie. It was so lovely.
The Fellowship of the Ring was published in 1954, so including it here in a movie set in 1946 is anachronistic, yes. But it fits the moment.
Juliet has given up on soulmates. Almost.
She may be a writer, but the war made her a realist. Her world has always been in black and white and grey. Finding the person destined for you by heaven is no longer practical. Even if she has one, statistically the person likely died during the fighting. The enemy destroyed so much already that soulmates are a fable now, a myth and a legend.
Yet a part of her wants to believe in the fairytale. On the worst nights of the Blitz, huddled in a tube tunnel beside Sidney, Juliet had fantasized about him being her soulmate. But though he is her dearest and oldest friend, he's never looked at her that way. Juliet's parents were soulmates, telling her about color in vibrant hues of indigo, emerald, ruby, lavender. Yet her mother and father are gone too, victims of the bombing.
Juliet meets Mark on a double-decker Routemaster bus. When he kisses the back of her hand, her world remains grey. But he is charming and bold, in the way American men are. She is certain her old shoes will wear through, because he takes her dancing so often. She receives so many perfect, pristine roses London just might run out of flowers. He doesn't care for reading, thinks it's a waste of time.
"You know, Juliet!" the New Yorker says over a swing band, raising a glass of bubbling champagne. "I think folks put too much stock in soulmates! It's a new age, the world is scientific, rational! Destiny is in the past! Look at us! We're happy without being soulmates!"
"Yes, but I think–" He kisses her, and pulls her back onto the dance floor. She wants to sit and rest a bit longer, but smiles. Juliet never does get to finish what she wanted to say.
Then she goes home and finds a letter under her door. It's from a pig farmer, about books and roast ham and a club called the Guernsey Literary And Potato Peel Pie Society.
Mark gives her a giant art deco ring at the dock. She still sees only grey.
As she sails across the English Channel, she studies it. The diamonds are exquisite, but it doesn't match her plain traveling coat. It's almost gaudy in comparison. Impulsively, she takes it off, ties it in a handkerchief, and puts it in her purse. She tells herself it's for safekeeping.
The island is a Garden of Eden compared to the scarred London. Guernsey is tranquil, with clean sea air unlike the smog of the city. However there are still reminders of the war, with brutalist German lookouts and barbed wire on the beaches. Regretting wearing heels as she climbs cobblestone hills, Juliet reaches the Crown Hotel. Workers are doing repairs, and the door has a closed sign.
"Excuse me," she begins. And then one of the men, with intelligent eyes and a beard dusting his jaw, turns and drops slate at her feet.
She jumps, startled and reminded of her windows shattering in the Blitz. "I'm so sorry, miss!" the handsome worker says honestly.
"It's alri–" Her heel turns in the cobblestones, and he reaches for her arm to catch her. When he touches her elbow, her world explodes into technicolor.
It's so sudden that it makes her dizzy. Her head aches at the rush of intense color she's never seen before in twenty-five years. The man is clearly shocked too. His eyes are a gentle brown, the hills are green, and the ocean behind them is blue.
"Are… Are you my soulmate?" she breathes.
"It appears so," he replies. "And you are mine."
Her universe has been altered forever, the world shifted on its axis.
"Oi, get back to work!" one of the repairmen calls. "The 'otel roof ain't gonna fix itself, mate!"
"I'm looking for a place to stay," Juliet says quickly. "Since the hotel is closed."
"Try the post office," her soulmate replies. "Let's find each other again."
She nods, heart pounding. "Indeed."
"Until then," he repeats as he reluctantly goes back to the construction site. She makes herself leave to find the post office, but looks back. He smiles.
That man is not your fiancé, she reminds herself. The ring waits in her purse.
Juliet looks for her soulmate that evening in the town square, but there's no trace of him. She doesn't even know his name.
She goes to Amelia's house and somewhat awkwardly joins the Society. The grey-haired host is standoffish, but Isola is earnestly friendly, Eben is sweet, and Eli is curious. "I do want to meet Mr. Adams, who I wrote to," Juliet says.
"There he is! Dawsey Adams!" Eben calls. "Meet Juliet Ashton."
Juliet turns and sees her soulmate again.
"Wait, you're Juliet?" Dawsey says in disbelief. "Who I wrote to."
"And you're Dawsey," she says.
"You know each other?" Isola asks, a gleam in her eye as she looks between the pair.
"We met outside the Crown," he explains, giving Juliet simple lilacs fresh from a meadow she had seen that morning. She never knew they were purple until Dawsey made her see color. "And we found out we're–"
"There's an enormous lot of things to discuss," she interjects. "And we will, Dawsey. But I want to find out what exactly a potato peel pie is." As Eben gets his wartime recipe, Juliet steps closer to Dawsey. "Later," she says under her breath. He nods.
Aside from Amelia, Juliet gets along famously with the Society. They banter about novels and characters and authors, eat dry potato peel pie, and drink homemade gin. Dawsey hardly takes his eyes off her. Everything goes well until she brings up the London Times article. "No!" the bristling Amelia snaps, even colder than before. Juliet didn't know that was possible. "You can't write about us in the London Times, Miss Ashton. You can't!"
What could have made you so closed off? Juliet wonders. The war was hard on us all. But what else have you been through?
Then a girl with hair golden as the sun runs to Dawsey. The child is only four, clutching a doll. "I had a nightmare, Daddy."
"Tell me about it, Kit," he says gently as he kneels down.
Juliet's heart sinks. She hadn't seen a band on his finger; though to be fair, she isn't wearing her own ring. Her soulmate is probably married with a child, and she can't be a home wrecker. Besides, she's engaged herself, isn't she?
Kit falls asleep in Dawsey's arms on the moonlit walk back to town. Juliet gnaws at her lip in worry. "It seems we're soulmates," he begins.
Juliet blurts out, "But you have a daughter, and a wife, and…"
"I don't have a wife," he says, and she looks at him. "A family, yes, but I'm not married. I can't just ignore that you brought color into my life, Juliet Ashton."
"I can't ignore it either, Dawsey Adams." Juliet is unable to bring herself to reveal she's marrying Mark.
She tells herself she stays only to research the literary club and the occupation.
That in of itself is difficult enough, given the Society doesn't want to discuss Elizabeth McKenna. Eli is the most forthcoming, but he was away evacuated while Elizabeth was arrested. Amelia shares nothing for weeks, but Isola and Eben give Juliet pieces of the puzzle. And always, always the Society looks after Kit. Then the pinched faced, holier-than-thou Miss Stimple haughtily implies that the girl was fathered by a German.
Juliet runs to ask Dawsey. And when he reveals the truth, it makes her heart swell. He is raising a child alone that is not even his, protecting Kit from an unforgiving world because it is what's right. Soulmates or not, Juliet thinks she is falling in love with him-
Then Mark shows up at the farm, and the American is incongruous here as pigs wallow in the mud. On the cliffside, she says that she still wants to get married. Mark does make her happy, that counts for something. No matter what she feels for Dawsey, Mark put the ring on her hand first. She just doesn't tell her fiancé that she can see in color now. How can she?
Mark comes bearing the devastating report of Elizabeth's demise in Ravensbrück. Amelia wails as Isola goes to her, and Eli sniffs as Eben hugs his grandson. The solemn Dawsey goes outside to tell Kit that her mother is dead. Juliet wants to comfort them all, wade into their river of tears, and share grief of the story she feels a part of. But Mark – distant from these strangers at the news of a woman's passing he never met – pulls Juliet back.
"It's time to go."
This isn't how her time in Guernsey was meant to end.
Back in London, she goes with Mark to the picture show, to see The Wizard of Oz from before the war. Dorothy emerges from the brown, sepia-toned world for brilliant technicolor. Juliet thinks of meeting Dawsey.
And she considers the man sitting beside her in the theatre's red seats. Mark has never made her see color, no matter how hard he tries. And she admits he does everything he can to make her happy. He is not a bad person. Her fiancé whisks her off to parties and concerts in a swirl of champagne. He gives her jewels worth more than anything she's ever owned. He promises the thrill of New York City, with glass skyscrapers untouched by war in contrast to the ravaged London.
And yet it was a pig farmer who had shown her Oz.
Wearing blue velvet, Juliet brings the ring to the dance hall. Mark takes the bottle of golden champagne because of its cost, but he does kiss the top of her head in farewell. And then she throws out every crimson rose he bought her.
Sidney urges her to write the Guernsey tale, loyal as Sam is to Frodo under the Ring's great burden. Before she even thought of publishing, Sidney encouraged her to write. He championed her through Anne Brontë: A Life's poor sales and Izzy Bickerstaff Goes To War's frothy success, and he is here now. He is another love, though in a different regard than Dawsey or Mark. The world desires only romance – but if a person can have a soulmate of comradeship, Sidney is hers.
She sends the manuscript, unbound and still on typing paper, to the literary club. If the Society burns it to protect Kit, at least Juliet wrote it down once and poured it from her heart. But as she sits in her apartment, it's suffocating to hear cars and construction on the bustling street. She would never belong in New York, but London itself is a constant reminder of the Blitz. She can't stand being away a minute longer from the island and its inhabitants.
Juliet boards the boat to Guernsey, but sees a familiar pig farmer in the crowd. She would know that worn cap anywhere. "Dawsey!" she calls as she hurries down the gangplank.
Like in a novel, they run to each other through the crowd. "I came to find you," he says.
"And I came to find you," she admits. "Will you marry me?"
He hesitates, looking away. "I know we are soulmates. But you're engaged."
"Not anymore, I broke it off. You're the only one who brought color into my life."
Then he smiles. "And you're the only one who brought color into my life."
When Juliet and Dawsey kiss, it feels like coming home.