Douglas Sirk

  • Written on the Wind (1956)

    Written on the Wind (1956)

    (On Cable TV, October 2020) I have, in past reviews, used “melodrama” as a bit of an epithet, complaining about overwrought drama as if it was a bad thing by definition. But Douglas Sirk’s Written on the Wind has shown me the error of my ways, as its overblown, overwrought, overdriven plotting is a spectacular demonstration of the joys of melodrama when it simply stops caring about being plausible. From the first few minutes (even discounting the very dramatic framing device that gets us to murder in less than sixty seconds), it’s obvious that this isn’t a script that plays in subtleties, as characters get married on a whim and are soon enjoying line-by-line verbal jousting. Robert Stack and Lauren Bacall play bickering couples like few others, and both amazingly tear into their dialogue without cracking up at the absurdity of it all. Things get much better (or worse) once a scheming sister (Dorothy Malone, shattering her mousy persona with a brassy blonde hairdo) and a longtime friend (Rock Hudson, in a straight—ahem: sedate—performance that became rich in subtext when his homosexuality was revealed decades later) enter the picture and also start making trouble. The love square is inherently unstable, and it becomes even wilder once infertility, money, alcoholism, lust and plain old death enter the picture. The fifth character here is heard rather than seen—the orchestral score is exceptionally aggressive here, not underscoring the action as much as overscoring it—there’s a scene with a boy riding a mechanical horse outside a restaurant that has to be heard to be believed. It’s all very broad and outrageously in-your-face, so much so that the film flips into satirical territory by pure brute force. The kicker is that there really isn’t much of a difference between Written on the Wind and later soap operas, even glorified ones such as Dallas and Dynasty—Sirk was clearly ahead of his time here, or simply repurposing pulp fiction to the big screen with a ferociousness that would set a precedent. No matter why or how, Written on the Wind remains a striking movie today, going for madcap blatant melodrama and leaving a much stronger impression than many so-called serious dramas of the time.

  • All That Heaven Allows (1955)

    All That Heaven Allows (1955)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) The Douglas Sirk formula that felt so daring back in the 1950s has been completely absorbed by today’s movie mainstream – to the point of seeing even more daring movies on daytime TV. I’m sure that All That Heaven Allows must have felt slightly scandalous back in 1955 – after all, it’s about a wealthy widow who gets romantically involved with a blue-collar landscaper working at her house, with a full coop of hen tut-tutting the relationship as hard as they could in the confines of a small northeastern town. There are complications and a break-up, but since there’s at least half an hour left in the movie, we know it’s not going to remain that way. Tonally, All That Heaven Allows is very much a melodrama: musical cues and near-parodic acting clearly highlight what you were supposed to feel, which actually acts as a handy guide for modern audiences. Jane Wyman stars as the widow, but Rock Hudson earns most of the attention as the landscaper, an essentially perfect man solely held back by her peers’ opinion of people like him. Much of the film has aged ridiculously – this stuff would be the premise of a Hallmark channel romantic comedy these days, not an overwrought drama. (It doesn’t help that I still have vivid memories of Far from Heaven, obviously inspired by this.) But one thing has aged truly well, and that’s the super-saturated colour cinematography of the film. From the first moment of the movie, as the camera pans over a bright, colourful, lovely autumn landscape, this is a film that makes a strong and deliberate use of colour as emotional highlighting. It’s quite impressive even if you don’t care much about the plot, and that may actually be one of the best ways to see All That Haven Allows even today.

  • Imitation of Life (1959)

    Imitation of Life (1959)

    (On TV, July 2013) Dipping into Hollywood’s back-catalogue can be a strange experience, as films developed for an earlier generation can become interesting for things they didn’t intend.  So it is that Douglas Sirk’s Imitation of Life becomes fascinating as much for its period background detail than for its subject matter.  From a contemporary perspective, it’s certainly not a tightly-plotted feature film: The story jumps forward abruptly, doesn’t quite know what story it’s trying to tell and ends abruptly, leaving a bunch of threads up in the air.  Still, the point isn’t the story as much as the emotional problems that the characters have: The film’s most compelling plot strand has to do with a mixed-race teenager rejecting her racial heritage, and while the film’s dialogue may feel a bit melodramatic by today’s standards, there’s no denying the impact of lines such as “How do you tell a child that she was born to be hurt?” The film’s other plot, about a suddenly-successful actress ignoring her daughter and leading on a suitor, is almost insufferably dull… except for studying bits and pieces of the decor and imagining being back in the 1950s.  Lana Turner is nice-but-boring in the lead role (much the same can also being said about Sandra Dee as her daughter) but the film’s most compelling performances easily belong to Juanita Moore and Susna Kohner as the estranged mother/daughter pair.  Imitation of Life has held up better than many films of its era not for the melodrama, but for the substance underneath.