Midnight Oil:Movies and More

Wartime Winds of Change

Evocative period atmoshere – that is how I could summarize my experience of watching the two Saturday Night at the Movies (TVOntario) features, Yanks (1979) and Swing Shift (1984).

I’ve never been to England. I never lived through “the War”. I know and love all the great swing/ jazz music that was played to good advantage during both the films, but after the fact. I wasn’t even around at the time, but these movies make me feel like I had déjà vu.

The opening scenes of “Swing Shift” gave me the feeling that I was looking through my Mom’s old photo album with that picture postcard kind of look or a snapshot impression of life in the 1940’s - except that my Mom doesn’t have any photos like that.

It was a pleasant enough experience getting lost in the byroads of wartime Britain with the American GIs and going to work with Rosie the Riveter (Goldie Hawn) in the MacBride airplane factory of Los Angeles. Both films were good entertainment value. Although some might sneer at “ Swing Shift” as a piece of Hollywood fluff meant to be yet another vehicle for Goldie Hawn, I found that the film contained overtures of being something more.

For a look behind the scenes at why there seem to be these “promises of something more” that never seem to amount to anything in “Swing Shift”, I recommend looking at this analysis by Steve Vineberg. Apparently there is a wide discrepancy between the director’s original cut and the studio released version due to an unfortunate disagreement. Vineburg’s opinion is that the director’s vision of things made for a much deeper and much better film than we what we end up with on the screen.

In Yanks, a 1979 production starring a young Richard Gere and débuting the American actress, Lisa Eichhorn, I found a sensitive portrait of real people striving to come to grips with the changes brought about by war. The two secondary romances between Danny and Mollie, the representatives of the working class, and between John and Helen, representatives of the elite social class might not be drawn out quite as well, but they are still believable enough as important supporting roles.

The whole situation for me seemed to be encapsulated by the scene where the peaceful pastoral landscape of a summer's day complete with wooly sheep  is intruded upon in a rather unexpected way by an American warship plowing through a canal in the English countryside. Jean Moreton’s life and times, including her presumed engagement to Ken, a childhood friend, are permanently disrupted by the arrival of the Yanks. Everyone has to adjust at times such as these.

Jean’s mother has a particularly difficult time accepting the American, Matt Dyson, as a suitor for her daughter. She states, perhaps on behalf of many other characters in the film, that she is trying her best not to let prejudice overtake her. Mrs. Moreton says that she just does not want to see her daughter get hurt. These seem to be two themes in the film: dealing with awkward and unsightly prejudices from both sides of the Atlantic and the pursuit of happiness while facing up to the risks of one’s personal choices.

Jean has to decide how much of a risk she is willing to take in pursuing a love interest with the American soldier. She has to decide how open she will be to a life that is beyond the scope of her limited horizons in a small English village.

Toward the end of the movie, during a very turbulent time when Jean appears to be rather confused and insecure about her relationship with Matt, she asks him to “just take her away from it all”. By this stage, the English fiancé has been killed in action, Jean’s mother is about to die and the Americans are on the point of being shipped out. The couple steals away to a hotel. Things do not turn out very well. Both parties are confused, hurt and unsure of where the relationship is headed. Jean cries all the way home on the train. Matt appears not to know what to do.

Jean calls Matt a coward for retreating during the sexual encounter. She throws uncharacteristically unkind words at him, saying that he does not really love her. Strange as it may sound in our day and age, the Matt Dyson character played as an attractive, able-bodied male thought he had a reason for not pursuing sex with his girlfriend. Even when it was somebody he loved, he thought that sex would be better at another time in another way. Matt Dyson is faced with the risk of losing Jean forever. Matt risks losing the beloved, not through a casualty of war, but through the foolishness of taking advantage of an emotionally overwrought young woman. Being the decent chap that he is, Dyson exercises his better judgment instead of giving in to his hormones. He takes the risk. Matt faces up to Jean’s misunderstanding, her cruel words, and his own insecure position in the relationship.

Then Matt Dyson does what he always does, the truly manly thing to do under such circumstances: he bakes a cake. 

 Somehow it works. The cake strategy works. The big train scene works. That ridiculous line about being pregnant works for Mollie as she and Jean forge desperately ahead through the crowd to the train platform. Everyone in the audience really wants things to work for the lovers as they strain to see each other at the last minute and the train rolls out of the station. You get the idea that if Richard Gere can just get himself back from action in Europe without being blown up, everything will work out in the end. You are convinced that Matt and Jean will get married once the war is over and that a bright future will ensue once that nasty bit of business with the war settles down.

It is all a very satisfying ending – nice and tidy. Sure life is change and life is risk, but you come out the other side believing that it is still worth living.

As for “Swing Shift”, lots of things in that movie work for me. It does manage to evoke something of the wartime America atmosphere. And who can resist the music? The indirect social comment on the changing roles of women in the workplace and in society forms a successful backdrop for the main action of the film.

Goldie Hawn does a good job of playing a naïve young woman undergoing a journey of self-discovery and emancipation. The war changes things for her character, Kaye Walsh. Christine Lahti also does well as Hazel, the worldly-wise dance hall singer turned wartime factory worker.

There are some things that don’t work for me though. The ending of the film seemed rather unconvincing.

It is not hard for me to believe that a guy like Lucky would insinuate himself into Kaye’s existence while her husband is away at war. The breakdown of the easy friendship of the Kaye, Hazel and Lucky trio after a disappointed Lucky sleeps with Hazel is pretty much a "no-brainer" as well. Things tend to get messed up when you cheat on your friends. That Hawn’s character displays double-mindedness and a divided heart when her husband arrives back home from the war unexpectedly is no surprise.

But it beats me how Kaye thinks that she can get on with her life just by saying near the end of the film, “Honey, I know I hurt you by what I did.” As if the marriage will be salvaged by such a remark! Her husband Jack at one point says he “has to go away and think about a lot of things.” He shows up after thinking about it: carry on soldier. Well, we’re glad that’s over and done with. No one seems to take the adulterous affair terribly seriously. According to Kaye, it is just one of those things that happens during a war. It is just one of the benchmarks of a woman’s journey in self-actualization.

Yeah, right. Fixing a marriage after adultery is a little bit more complicated than fixing a toaster, even though it is a good thing, surely a very good thing for a woman to know how to handle a screwdriver and fix her own home appliances.

Speaking of patching things up, did I miss something in the scene behind the house where Hazel and Kaye try reconcile their differences? It is implied that the two go on to become fast friends once again. After the big cat fight and the events leading up to it did anyone ever say, “I was wrong. Please forgive me.”? (Not just, “Oh that was such a dumb thing to do,” or “I wish I hadn’t because of the mess it got us into.”) Maybe that is too much to expect, but . . .

And can someone explain why the feisty Hazel all of a sudden up and marries “Biscuits”? Sure he has the uniform to try to convince us that he has really pulled himself up by his bootstraps (acquired it seems in the final moments of the war after he has raked in a tidy sum from his dance hall business). How can a woman who purports to teach us about self-respect, self-worth and sturdy self-reliance, a woman who at one time slugs her former sleaze-ball employer from her bicycle rather than accept an unsolicited lift, how can such a woman stoop to tie the knot with a guy like “Biscuits”?

Maybe she got tired of being lonely. Maybe maternal clock had been ticking for a bit too long and Hazel decided that for her next act in life, she needed a hubby and babies. Maybe the fact that everyone else was coming home from the war and getting outfitted with the wedding ring, the electric washing machine (displayed prominently in a final scene of the film) and a white picket fence was just too much for her and Hazel decided that she needed some of that too. Maybe Hazel found out that matrimony was as good an option as any other - But why “Biscuits”? Granted, this is a movie about openness to change and personal growth, but does anyone actually believe that “Biscuits” has gotten any better with time just because Hazel has started to call him by his Christian name, Archibald?

Some things just don’t add up. Knowing the controversy with the director mentioned by Steve Vineberg helps to diagnose where the problem with the sum lies. But it is more than that.

The “Swing Shift” film rings true to life in some important ways, but on other counts it misses the mark. I can’t help but think that the ending has been painted on like some kind of carnival poster – it invites you to come and have a good time, but it is an empty, unsatisfying promise.

With “Swing Shift” the boys are back from war, the good economic times have arrived and everyone is all set to live happily ever after. . . But I don’t believe that it will happen – not the way that I believed it for Matt and Jean in “Yanks”. Kaye and Hazel and Lucky might have a good time for a while in their respective new lives, but nothing convinces me that it will turn out all right in the end.

Funny that. The choices that people make do make a difference, even in the Hollywood movies.

But, hey – Hollywood is about making money and enjoying yourself. I don’t know if these films made any big money, but I can say that I did generally enjoy myself while watching them.

Stay tuned for the next double feature on TVO’s Saturday Night at the Movies, Saturday, May 14^th, The Americanization of Emily (1964) Julie Andrews and James Garner, 8pm EST and Marty (1955), Ernest Borgnine and Betsy Blair, 10:30 pm EST

The Beauty in the Beast and the Beast in the Beauty

Well. “Feel-good” films for my wedding anniversary viewing pleasure they were not. Nor did I expect them to be. I expected these films to be upsetting and insightful and, on both those accounts, they did deliver.

My husband did manage to tough it out watching some of both “The Elephant Man” (1980) and “Frances” (1982) on TVO’s Saturday Night at the Movies. I think he would rather have watched an action flick with Bruce Willis or something of that ilk. Not that that would necessarily have helped much in the “romantic mood enhancer” department.

The “Elephant Man” (1980) with Anthony Hopkins as Dr. FrederickTreves and John Hurt playing John Merrick set in late 19^th century London , is the story of a grotesquely deformed young man who has been badly used and abused. The Hopkins character finds this “creature” and brings him to the London hospital where he proceeds to put him on display for the benefit of his medical colleagues in a scene purposefully reminiscent of the carnival display that the Elephant Man has left behind.

As the film’s action unfolds, Dr. Treves finds himself called upon to re-examine his own moral conscience, his understanding of humanity, and his motivations. Although it seems he is at first resistant to this process, Treves eventually comes to see that he is has been lacking on all three accounts. He changes his ways. He changes his attitudes. His life and the lives of others are enriched by encountering the noble soul that is John Merrick, the “Elephant Man”.

“ Frances ” is a film account of the life and times of 1940s movie actress, Frances Farmer. The film begins with the dreamy young 16 year old Frances making her first real stage appearance through reworking the meditations of her personal diary into a high school essay called “God is Dead”. At the delivery of her paper during a public awards ceremony, a prominent woman of the community stands up and says to Frances , “You will be damned straight to hell for saying that!” The crowd recoils in horror both at Frances ’ words and at the “scene” itself as Frances mother, played by Kim Stanley, applauds her daughter’s performance rather loudly.

Perhaps Frances does not go straight to hell as the film continues: she makes a few stops along the way. Frances becomes involved in leftist political action, follows her acting career to Russia , New York and then to Hollywood where she encounters disappointment and frustration through being used and abused by the Hollywood studio system. Frances is depicted as an outspoken, temperamental actress with an addictive streak. In this sympathetic treatment of her story, she is definitely not portrayed as mentally ill. She is betrayed by her marriage, by her leftist playright lover, by Hollywood , by her own addictions, by the medical system, and ultimately by her mother who has her committed to a mental institution. Frances is betrayed by the world but a central idea seems to be that she remains “true to herself”.

Hollow comfort. Yes, there is that long-time lover, Harry York (Sam Shepard), who drifts in and out of her life. Whenever things seem to be going particularly poorly for Frances , Harry gets “the call”. Somehow though Harry does not seem to be quite up to the job of supplying real comfort and help for the troubled Frances . At one point Frances is reaching out to Harry, looking for some kind of affirmation of her person and of Harry’s feeling towards her. Her lover remains silent.

The hellish horrors of the attempts to “cure” Frances of her problems, whatever they are, at the mental institution proceed from bad to worse. They culminate in a transorbital prefrontal lobotomy after which Frances is supposedly “cured”. At the end of the film Frances is depicted as a shell of her former self; dull, lifeless, hopelessly “normal”, robbed of her true self and her emotional capacities. She lives on for many years after the termination of the action of the film in mundane isolation.

The film does bring up some very interesting moral questions about mental illness and its treatment, about society’s inability to accept someone who is an outspoken critic, about personal choice and the pursuit of liberty, happiness and fulfillment in the modern era.

Both films are fictionalized accounts of the lives of real people. Sorting out the fact from the fiction of the film is an endless if not an impossible task. John Merrick really did exist. He really was an intelligent, sensitive man trapped in a grotesquely deformed body. He was put on display both in carnivals and for the benefit of “science”. Frances Farmer really was an intelligent, outspoken woman with some pronounced addiction problems. She doubtless did suffer through the indignities of being incarcerated in a mental institution in the first half of the 20^th century although it is debatable which exact treatments she underwent. Both individuals suffered great injustices. Both were figures of tragedy.

But why were these people so different? Why do I feel so different at the end of each film? At the end of John Merrick’s life I feel a profound sadness, yet at the same time I am uplifted and ennobled for having known him better through his story depicted on film. At the end of Frances Farmer’s life I feel sick, sad and empty. Although I can say that I have been enlightened as to the depths of human depravity by her story, and I am moved, I cannot say that I am somehow “enriched” by encountering this life on film. I am meant to be angry, I suppose. I do not find this particular emotion in this particular case to go in a very positive direction.

During the interviews, I believe it is one of the screenwriters who speculates as to how it could be that John Merrick could possibly have turned out to be a decent human being in view of his abysmal treatment by society in general and by some individuals in particular. The screenwriter says that one must not underemphasize the importance of the fact that John Merrick did have the benefit of a mother’s tender care during the first three formative years of his life. This marked him for life in a good way, he speculates, no matter what happened to Merrick in later life. John Merrick also had access to books. In the movie, Merrick states that his favourite books to read are the Bible and the Anglican Common Book of Prayer. He gives an unexpected and moving recitation of the 23^rd psalm at a pivotal point in the film, proving not only his intelligence and love of poetry, but also, I believe, demonstrating his profound love and confidence in His Maker. The screenwriter said that it was the dearest wish of the historical John Merrick to have a Christian burial, something which did not happen due to Treve’s relentless pursuit of scientific knowledge. During the moving death scene, accompanied by Samuel Barber’s wonderful “Adagio for Strings”, the camera pans across to the paper cathedral so lovingly constructed by Merrick during his life and ends by focusing on the cross on the top of the cathedral spire. The open window and fluttering lace behind the cathedral cross imply that a soul has flown up to heaven to rejoin its Maker along with shadowy images of the Mother figure. In a peaceful and better beyond, the mysterious Mother figure says something to the effect that “Nothing will really die.”

What a different vision of life and reality when compared with “ Frances ”. For Frances , God is dead, a useless product of the human imagination, to be disposed of at the time one’s own choosing. It seems that Frances disposed of God pretty early in her career. Interestingly, it seems that along with God’s untimely demise in Frances view of life, there were also a few other things that got chucked along the way such as genuine compassion, mercy, redemption, forgiveness, hope, inalienable human dignity, and ultimately an unshakable grasp of what it means to be fully human.

At one point in the film Clifford Odets exhorts Frances to “really look” at a poor girl pathetically begging for money from theatre-goers after a performance. The playwright’s point is that Frances cannot hope to be a great actress and convey to an audience the reality of a beggar’s plight until she internalizes the emotion of the moment. True enough. Frances goes on to be a better actress because of Clifford Odet’s remarks. But for Frances , that is all that it is; the challenge of summoning up a semblance of the emotion, in other words play-acting. You don’t get the picture that she as a person really learns to deal with true compassion with the human condition of this other person. Frances is forever play-acting to get ahead with her own happiness in her own life. Even her fits of rage at social injustice, while I would not go so far to say that they are a “put-on”, seem rather superficial, abstract, disconnected with a real life to life compassion à la Mother Theresa-save-a-street-child vision of things. It seems cruel and terribly politically incorrect for me to suggest it, but I am afraid that Frances was a hollow woman long before the infamous (and let me underline unjust) lobotomy.

And let’s not forget the role of Frances ’ mother. Lillian is portrayed as a woman who appears at first to be loving and supportive of her daughter, but in the end she is shown to be anything but. It is but a role. When Frances fails to live up to her mother’s expectations and fulfill her vicarious dreams of glamour and greatness, Lillian is revealed to be just as self-serving and hollow as her daughter. Lillian accuses Frances of being an ungrateful child who throws opportunity away with both hands. In fact, Frances is only a reflection of her mother who in her own right lives a selfish ungrateful existence devoted to her own comfort while throwing away the treasures of a precious and talented soul entrusted to her care. What a contrast with John Merrick, a man who overflows with genuine gratitude at the gift of a small box of toiletries and who, despite his harsh history, lives in complete happiness at the end of his days because of some small kindness shown to him.

Join me next week, Saturday, April 7^th for “Yanks” (1979) with Richard Gere ( 8pm EST ) and “Swing Shift”(1984) with Goldie Hawn ( 10:30 pm EST ) on TVOnatrio’s Saturday Night at the Movies.

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous

Saturday Night at the Movies on TVO has been a pastime with me for I don’t know how many years now. Let’s just say that Elwy Yost has been a guest in my living room for many a Saturday night, keeping me entertained with a selection of classic Hollywood films. The introduction to the world of filmmaking as well as the viewing of the films themselves has been a pleasant and informative process.

SNATM has evolved since its early Elwy days to form a partnership with the department of film studies with York University and others.

I have evolved as well in my film viewing habits. I guess I have always thought about the movies I saw whether on the big screen or on T.V. It has been mostly personal reflection, although I have also always loved to interact with others who viewed the same film. Going to the movies is an experience to be lived and shared for me. That is why a blog is something of a next step or a natural evolution at this point.

The offering on SNATM for Saturday, April 23^rd was the 1950 version of Cyrano de Bergerac with José Ferrer coupled with Steve Martin’s Roxanne (1987). The two movies were presented as two very different interpretations of the original 1897 Edmond Rostand play.

Well, they were very different. What else can one say? It was like comparing apples and oranges. I found that the real exercise in analysis and comparison that took place in my mind was between the José Ferrer 1950 version of Cyrano de Bergerac and Gérard Depardieu’s performance of the same role in 1990. I literally could not stop myself from replaying the many memorable scenes of Depardieu playing Cyrano as I watched the 1950s Hollywood version.

I confess that somehow I missed out on seeing the José Ferrer Cyrano somewhere in my youth or childhood. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. I was and am a real sucker for all those classic swashbucklers of a bygone era. Therefore the first and definitive cinematographic version of Cyrano that is lodged in my brain cells is the Jean-Paul Rappeneau Cyrano de Bergerac. The film made a big impression on me when I went to see it on the big screen, both visually and through the overwhelming beauty of the French language. I too fell in love (absolument folle, capotée, coup de foudre) with Cyrano for his words that night!

It must be stressed that I fell in love with the original French version as depicted on the screen. I went and read the Rostand play later. It is simply not possible to duplicate the experience of hearing the poetry in the original language. It is like listening to Shakespeare in translation: although there have been many fine attempts to convey Shakespeare in translation, for the Anglophone nothing can compare to the exquisite pleasure of listening to the Bard in the original English.

I speak French as a second language. Although I speak French well enough to savour the poetry of the dialogue in the 1990 Cyrano, I found the “Burgess” I believe it is English translation of the play used as the basis for the dialogue in the 1950 film to be very serviceable. The English translation captures the wit, beauty and grace of Cyrano’s words and person.

And that, after all, is the most important thing about the film. As many other reviewers have said, the role of Cryano as played by José Ferrer makes the film and, I would add, the poetry spoken by Cyrano make the character.

The rest of the production is not much to look at. Well, yes, Mala Powers is very pretty in a 50ish costume drama sort of way. (My, I thought she still looked pretty well preserved during the “Interviews”) I think honourable mention should be given to the sword fight scenes. I found myself wondering how they could have got such great shots of Ferrer during the fight scenes with the limited technology they had in those days. Then I learned that Ferrer was quite the athlete. He probably did the swordplay himself; quite a feat if this was actually the case. I am no fencer, but even I could tell that those scenes weren’t all that easy to pull off.

I was also surprised to learn that in this Stanley Kramer (producer) version of Cyrano, Ferrer beat out some other big contenders in 1950 for Best Actor of the Year (Spencer Tracey in Father of the Bride and Jimmy Stewart in Harvey, a couple of old chestnuts on my list of picks for “most endearing family films”) Well, it was a different era back then. Maybe words, their beauty and their meaning, were treated with a bit more respect than they are today. Or maybe there was just some politicking going on behind the scenes at the Oscars that led to the decision and it had nothing whatsoever to do with lofty ideals and social trends.

And then there was Roxanne. Well. It was a Steve Martin film. I am not a big Steve Martin fan. To be sure there were funny moments. The “drinking out of a wineglass through your nose” gag struck me as funny. Daryl Hannah locking herself out of her house while stark naked in an opening scene, while I can understand the humour in it, just didn’t do it for me.

That is what Steve Martin comedies are like for me: hit and miss. Mostly I don’t bother with them unless I have a good reason. I had a good reason to watch this one in order to do the comparison between Roxanne and Cyrano de Bergerac. As I said earlier, the real comparison for me was between Depardieu and Ferrer as Cyrano de Bergerac. Steve Martin as C.D. Bales, well, he is in a different class.

The movie Roxanne has often been billed as a romantic comedy. For me, it comes across as pretty thin on both accounts: as romantic and as comic. It is truly an updated modern version of the story. Superficiality (and not only as applied to the “Chris” character played by Rick Rossovitch) is one word that comes to mind. Degradation is another. unlike the other film versions previously mentioned, a nobility of character and mind is notably absent in Roxanne.

But, what else can we expect in a modernized Cyrano where Steve Martin plays the lead role? It is what it is. In some ways it is not fair to compare the film with its 1950 predecessor. It is like comparing apples and oranges. I think it was the producer of the film, David Melnick, who said in one of the interviews that he was “too stupid to know that he was fighting uphill” by making this modern-day remake of Cyrano.

Perhaps it is better and more charitable to say that the two films belong to different eras and to different genres and share little more than a common kernel of a story. Roxanne might be good for the odd laugh here and there, but nobody thinks of it as great film. In fact, my take on it is that nobody thinks much at all during or after seeing this particular film.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Cyrano de Bergerac for days after seeing it in 1990. That film gave my mind lots to think about, a luxuriant feast for the ears, and a beautiful indelible memory for the inner eye. That is why I recommend seeing Depardieu as Cyrano, in French if you can manage it, as the ultimate movie experience on this subject.

Watch out for next week’s movies on TVOntario, April 30^th , The Elephant Man (1980) with Anthony Hopkins at 8pm EST and Frances (1982) with Jessica Lange at 10:30pm EST.