by Sam Juliano
In 2002’s Far From Heaven, director Todd Haynes uses his lead actress Julianne Moore to explore the theme of suburban alienation, which was basically the same combination that worked so effectively in his feature debut, Safe (1995). But the issues, time period and terrain in the newer film aren’t contemporary, and are set back in a time when taboo concerns were enshrouded in mystery, issues that were raised but never explained.
Far From Heaven is a reworking and recasting of one of the most revered of Douglas Sirk’s Hollywood melodramas, All That Heaven Allows, a film that features an affluent suburban widow, played by Jane Wyman, who opposes the disapproval of her two children and her community to romance a much younger man, played by Rock Hudson. Haynes make some drastic revisions on this basic conceit, bringing in a homosexual husband, (Frank Whitaker; played by Dennis Quaid) who drives his wife Cathy (Moore) into a taboo relationship with the family’s African-American gardener. The film is set in the most influential and repressed decade in American history – the 1950’s, the decade that triggered the civil rights act. Although it is set in such a turbulent period, the town of Hartford, Connecticut does not appear to be effected by this revolutionary movement, as here there are clear and sustained acts of discrimination and subsequent social unrest. Characters in the film demonstrate no remorse for their blatant prejudicial behavior, and throughout the film’s narrative racism is not only displayed through the dialogue, but through camera angles, sound effects and costumes. Homosexuality is treated as a behavioral aberration that can be treated by psychiatrists, and is in large measure kept confidential both the adherents and siblings. In Far From Heaven it’s clear that being black is worse than being gay, as the former is treated with outright indignation while the latter isn’t talked about. This is also a time when male chauvinism thrives, even in the Whitaker family, where a philandering husband has violated his wedding vows, yet evinces condescending attitudes, steeped in inner prejudices and insecurities. This era can be defined as repressive and conformist, and the film juxtaposes the impossibility of consummating heterosexual mixed interracial romance to the almost, but not quite, impossible step of assuming a homosexual identity. The twin themes rarely occupy the same scene visually, and instead are tied through match-dissolves, cross-cuts and inference. At the film’s half-way point, for example, at a company party hosted by the Whitakers, it is evident that being Caucasian and wealthy are the explicit norms, yet as onlookers we are most aware of the Whitakers’ struggles with their taboo desires. Hence we are hardly surprised when one of the party guests declares, in a conversation centered on the topic of school desegregation, that the violence unleashed in response to integration in Little Rock, Arkansas, could never happen in Hartford, his ludicrous reasoning is: “There are no Negroes here.!” The irony of course in the scene is that this man has been served all evening by a black man, and the camera at one point pans to the waiter, who clearly hears this remark yet continues to serve the guests. The camera also briefly pans the Whitakers’ black maid, Sybil, who is also serving the guest, in what is a clear example of the way the film assesses racial class. Black characters serve the whites as housekeepers and gardeners, while the wealthy white people treat this service as their inherent right.
Much more subtly homosexuality is the scene’s hidden subtext, and the themes of visibility and invisibility invoked in this moment underscore “Frank’s” narrative, in that no one person at the party would guess that a gay man, indeed one of their very own, would be socializing among them. Frank, like the black waiters is thus simultaneously present and invisible. We can with good reason conclude that the apparent focus on racial difference subtly comments on what is not seen or discussed, namely the topic of homosexuality.
Haynes has a sharp ear for small town-gossip, and how prejudice rears it’s ugly head in places such as art galleries (the setting of one of the film’s best scenes), and taverns, luncheonettes and paranoia-inflicted streets, where late in the film the black man is challenged in public for “laying his hands” on a white woman. He also has a sharp eye for this seemingly sedate period, set in golden autumn hues with deep reds, browns and yellows that create a New England utopia bathed in melancholia, all accomplished by shooting the film in New Jersey. Haynes’s erstwhile protege, was long noted for his ostentatious painterly visuals, achieved in studios. A major key to the ravishing look of the film is due to the use of light and saturation, and cinematographer Edward Lachman captures the right textures that fully recall and provide a homage to the 50’s melodramas it echoes. The color-coordination of the living rooms, dresses and outside landscapes and manicured front lawns is radiant and transporting, and the cars, train stations and street perfectly recreate a time and place that has vanished forever. There are many thematic and artistic nods to Haynes’s hero, and they include Frank’s similarity to Robert Stack’s (impotent) millionaire in Written on the Wind and the psychiatrist in Far From Heaven recalling a bow-tie wearing guru in Magnificent Obsession. But of course the aforementioned All That Heaven Allows is the prime inspiration for both plot and theme, and the parallels are abundant. In Sirk and in Far From Heaven there is that recurring theme of a character being trapped in his or her environment and being helpless to change it or escape from it. This issue in Haynes’s film is so overwhelmingly emotional that it raises the bar for on-screen weeping. When Cathy visits Raymond (the gardener) as he prepares to leave this under-the-surface hotbed of seething resentment, you know that in this society at this time that there could never be any kind of consummation, yet you feel the wrenching tragedy of it all, as there was a genuine connection between the two, not forged by any kind of intellectual camaraderie, but by the sense of security and release that their prior meetings had brought them. Moore’s grief is palpable, but it underscores her hopelessness. The train departure at the end, is one of the most moving scenes in all of contemporary cinema, and in the tradition of Sirk it a two-handkerchief weepie.
One of the film’s most magnificent components is composer Elmer Bernstein, who may well have written his greatest score in a long and varied career with this lyrical rush of suburban angst, tinged with all the elements Haynes transcribed from Sirk. The lilting piano chords, the sudden burst of sweeping melody, and the slow, introspective chord lines tinged with false hope and sadness are the essence of one of the truly great film scores of the past two decades, a score that works as a stand-alone, as well as the emotional core of a film that relies heavily on mood and atmosphere to define the nature of it’s character’s psychological state. His lead theme “Autumn in Connecticut” flawlessly encapsulates the nature of this film, with its enrapturing cadences, sense of longing and ominous foreboding. Music plays a huge role in this film both in its efforts at essaying Sirk as well as accentuating the themes and characters’s state of mind. As part of the overall artistry it’s presence here is impossible to downplay.
As Cathy, Julienne Moore, with this film signaled that she was a major American actress, and her many awards in 2002 underlined this. Too bad, after this film and The Hours, that her roles haven’t matched her abilities. As Cathy, her hair, dress, demeanor, and local accent are perfect. Her co-stars–Dennis Haysbert–Dennis Quaid and Patricia Clarkson (with a stellar turn as a nosy neighbor) each give unforgettable performances (fine acting again was a signature Sirk trademark) but Moore is dominant throughout with a deeply sympathetic portrayal that underscores her helplessness, while at the same time displaying the kind of force of nature that she is.
Back in 2002, Far From Heaven moved and impressed me to heights not yet since experienced in a movie theatre. I wound up seeing it multiple times with my wife, close friends and colleagues to the tune of 21 viewings —three-quarters of this total in a local bargain art-house multiplex—yet my exceedingly positive feelings haven’t diminished. It’s a consummate blend of emotion and artistry, while standing as an insightful social document of it’s time. It’s unquestionably the best film of 2002 from any country, and for me it’s the best film of the new millennium.
Note: This review first published on Monday of this week at Ric Burke’s “Films of the Soul” as part of it’s “the Zeros Project.”
Sam, you really outdid yourself in your rapturous descriptions of the various elements of this film. I haven’t seen it since it was first released, but your review makes me realize I need to watch it again, looking for all the things you pointed out in such meticulous detail.
Thanks R.D. for your very kind words! It is certainly a film that “controlled” me for a very long time. Subsequent viewings of this film always brings out something new.
You have elegantly captured the feel of this movie, Sam, which is one of my recent favorites. Moore’s performance was impressive, and perhaps owes more to Hayne’s direction than you allow.
One of the elements that most struck me was Cathy’s strength of character and her openness, which supports my view that important social change occurs at the frontier anonymously through the actions of ordinary people.
It is interesting that Max Ophüls explored similar terrain in his 1949 noir, The Reckless Moment, with Joan Bennett, in her relationship with the petty-criminal James Mason and her black maid, played by Frances E. Williams, who did not even receive a credit!
I would also recommend the outstanding TV series Mad Men, which explores these issues moving from the late 50s to early 60s in New York’s Madison Ave and the commutes.
Oh Tony, what a fantastic reference point there with THE RECKLESS MOMENT parallel! I saw that film, and liked it very much, but I neglected to broach it here. That’s really unbelievable that Williams wasn’t even acredited. I am unfamiliar with MAD MEN, but I will research it today.
But yes, I agree that what you say here is really the essence of this film:
“One of the elements that most struck me was Cathy’s strength of character and her openness, which supports my view that important social change occurs at the frontier anonymously through the actions of ordinary people.”
Precisely and eloquently stated. Thanks very much for all this!
Sam, this is a wonderful review of a profound film that exemplifies the invisible “polite” signs people use to demonstrate their inner discrimination. How they assume everyone in their intimate circle thinks and/or is like them. Setting the film not just up North, but in New England, which is typically more liberal, instead of the South, shows that ignorant, naive discrimination can happen anywhere and at every economic level.
I cannot say enough about Julianne Moore, who I believe is one of our most gifted acting treasures. Fortunately, she works a lot, so hopefully there are a few more treasured performances to come.
Amazing. First the Pixar piece last week and now this. Two of your greatest reviews ever. I am also on board with this film, though I can’t imagine seeing it 21 times. But I know when you love something, you really go the distance. I admire you for that. The music, the cinematography, the period detail (cars, clothes, architecture, all impeccable) and at the center of it all is Julianne Moore. I agree with “John” that she’s one of our “most gifted acting treasures.”
I really was taken by your use of descriptive language in this review, but more importantly I think you made a very convincing argument as to why this film works on a number of levels. Haynes was an advocate of Sirk and also Fassbinder. I also think it was the best film that that year. Julianne Moore was also excellent in The Hours, which also released in 2002.
Really outstanding review in every way. I remember the actor Dennis Haysbert played the President in a television series, and won much acclaim.
Hollywood, oddly seemed afraid of this film, even as recent as only seven years ago, and despite numerous critics awards, gave it scant Oscar attention as you note yourself.
John: Thanks so much for pointing out a vital concern there, a point I failed to mention in my review–that of “the polite signs that people use to demonstrate their inner discrimination.” Also I agree it is most significant that the film is set in a hotbead of surface liberalism, accentuating a most telling aspect. And of course your great regard for Julianne Moore (as evinced by others here too) is unquestioned. With the right material she is simply America’s finest actress. What a tremendous comment John, I really appreciate it.
Joe: That’s quite a flattering response, and I salute you for it. Yes, I won’t deny I go “over the top” with just about everything! Ha!
Frank: Indeed Haynes did revere Fassbinder as well as Sirk, and ALI: FEAR EATS THE SOUL comes into play in a big way. I’m gratified the piece worked for you.
David: What was that series? 21? Haysbert is a quality performer, and he very very moving in this film. I couldn’t agree with you more on the film leaving many in the establishment very uneasy, a point John broached in his own comment above. Thank You!
Not much is said here about Dennis Quaid. I think this may be the best thing he’s ever done. It was subtle, suppressed acting that effectively showed he had “inner demons”.
I love when you are excited Sam. It really brings out your finest abilities. This review really stands up to the best of any I’ve ever read anywhere at the fear of embarrassing you. I always got a good laugh out of the way gays were treated in the 50’s. They was naive enough to think their “disease” could be “treated”. But I must agree that this deeply-emotional film’s main issue is that of racism. And that the Moore-Haysbert relationship is the one that hits home. What a feast for the ears and eyes!
I am much appreciative for the kind encouragement, and particularly for the resounding love for this film, which as always been very dear to my heart.
Here we go again! Sam spouting off again about this film. Listen, I myself like this film very much, one of the best of it’s year. But to talk about it ad-nauseum and drag people who clearly weren’t interested in it is the sign of a deeply disturbed individual! I mean you people just don’t know what I and his saint-like wife had to go through in 2002. Aside from his seeing it 21 times he would play that score from his car radio so loud you would have thought a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade float was passing by the house. And then there were the Oscars! When this film took home NOTHING for its nominations he stormed around the house threatening to kick in the television screen and never watch the telecast again. However, I cannot deny my friend some praise on this well written essay, his heart is all over it. It’s just you will never understand what I and Sam’s wife had to go through before his shock therapy sessions started taking effect. Dennis
LOL Dennis!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A classic comment for sure. I would only take modest issue with the notion that some of the people I corraled in to see this were “resistent.”
You’re probably gonna ban me, Sam, but…I only wish I could enjoy this film more, given my appreciation of directors like Sirk, Fassbinder, and Almodovar (another of Sirk’s progeny). Is it too obvious to complain that the film is…derivative?
To be sure, the cinematography is achingly opulent, the acting is daring, and the script is tight, centrifugal tragedy, but there’s the overall impression that Haynes is taking his characters far more seriously than Sirk ever did. I think it’s clear, too, from the garish type that announces the main titles (which Sirk NEVER would have used) that this is a 50s homage fed through the camp mill. It’s paradoxically flawed, because Hayes isn’t exactly laughing at the characters — it’s almost like camp in reverse. I think he makes the mistake of endowing the central romances with too much substance, where Sirk knew surface was more crucial (a formal aspect mirrored beautifully by his characters’ social anxieties). I’m not saying “Far From Heaven” is a bad film — far from it — but for me it suffers from a phenomenon similar to the CGI “Uncanny Valley”; it’s such a painstaking simulation of Sirk that it feels both eerie and useless. The distinct condescension to 50s mores doesn’t help, either, but it’s probably the distance — “Imitation of Life” was a far more subtle study of timely race relations.
Interestingly, I think the aforementioned series MAD MEN — my favorite current tube drama — does Haynes one better by updating 50s issues and aesthetics with a hip, 00s nihilism. The very notion that some people back then might as been as cynical as we are now is simply riveting.
None of this, however, is meant to disparage Sam’s marvelous essay nor his superiorly phrased opinion about the film. There are far worse movies to choose as one’s favorite of this current decade, certainly. But as far as Haynes goes I’m more enamored of “Safe” — a masterpiece of post-modern alienation like no other (which, by the way, was not the director’s debut…I believe his 1st was “Poison”).
Ha! Jon, you will never be banned, and anytime you leave a comment under one of my reviews, it is time for serious celebration, as I am deeply-honored. And such a fantastic comment indeed.
Well, I will say this: The one critic that I revere above all others, 94 year-old Stanley Kauffmann (who wrote his review in 2002, to dispel notions of senility; yeah I know that would make him 87, ha!) felt, like you that the film is derivative. Here’s part of what he said:
“Even with its latter-day (modified) frankness, Far From Heaven is only thin glamour that lacks a tacit wry base. Thus diminished, it can be tagged with a term that Susan Sontag once defined so well that she put it out of circulation: camp.”
However, the polar opposite came in from Jonathan Rosenbaum, who felt the film was not camp, lending some creedance to it’s deliberately serious tone, even in the purposeful “homage” eveidenced in its various artistic components:
“This brilliantly and comprehensively captures the look, feel, and sound of glamorous 50s tearjerkers like All That Heaven Allows, not to mock or feel superior to them but to say new things with their vocabulary.”
My own position on the film was based on the perception that the characters and the events as they played out in this wrenching drama was accurate reflection of the sociology of the time, and was not (as I think you do agree with) ironic in any way.
Hence I must say I completely agree with Slant’s Ed Gonzalez (who had the film at #2 in his year-end list) when he says this:
“Here is a film of great humanism that applies as much to the 50’s as it does to the world today and everyone who inhabits it.”
http://www.slantmagazine.com/film/film_review.asp?ID=499
I am not so sure that the garish titles at the outset are indicative of camp as much as they are strictly homage for the kind of film that Haynes was unanashedly enamored of, even if in the end he fueled his drama with far more substantial humanist clout.
But as always, your arguments here–expressed as brilliantly as anyone I’ve ever read—let’s face it you are top-rank, you can be as modest as you want—and present a valid interpretation of this film. Yes, it did win the Best Film of 2002 honor from the New York Film Critics Circle, but there was some strong vocal dissenters, yourself included.
A revealing and polished commentary Jon.
If you are right, I would feel profoundly foolish. But there are contradictions in your riposte. You say Haynes is ‘derivative’ yet then go on to say the movie is a homage and that Haynes does things Sirk would ‘NEVER’ do?
Yes, Haynes does something Sirk never did. He addresses race and sexuality. Somehow I can’t see that this as ‘camp’. Yes, the surface is still there: the hypocrisy and the banality of white middle-class comfort in bucolic enclaves. But no, I don’t see why Haynes should be laughing at his characters. And no, I don’t see why an accurate rendition of 50s mores amounts to condescension. The film in some ways may be eerie for a younger person but it is certainly far from useless.
We can agree on the brilliant Mad Men, but if you look deeply at 50s noir films and television crime drama, you can’t say that Don Draper and co are any more hip or nihilist.
And, by the way, I thought a showed great restraint in my last comment Sammy. Not once did I mention the time you insisted that your wife dress Melanie and Gillian (Sam’s daughters) just like Julianne Moore (you should have seen the cat fight over the fur coat!). Not once did I say anything about you walking around in black face paint like a minstrel show performer for days trying to understand the motivation of Dennis Haysbert’s character. No, I thought it would be in poor taste to mention those incidents. I’m just thankful it was this movie you really obsessed yourself and not one of your other favorites this decade. Lucille and the kids and I were beginning to get a little frightened when you started singing the praises of SWEENEY TODD! Dennis
Guys, I think that my comment was somewhat misunderstood, because I don’t dislike the film — better put, I was somewhat bewildered by it. Thanks to both Sam and Tony for helping me work my thoughts out a little more, and let me try to elucidate…
I am not so sure that the garish titles at the outset are indicative of camp as much as they are strictly homage for the kind of film that Haynes was unanashedly enamored of,
Right, but I don’t recall seeing such an ugly font in any melodrama, Sirk or not — it seems more like the type of title one would expect to see in a 50s tearjerker, rather than the actual thing. Which may partly explain the paradoxical way in which I think Haynes both “channels” Sirk and departs from him (unsuccessfully, in my view, but these are just my opinions).
Tony, you’re right about the contradictions in my comment, but I was hoping that they would symbolize, in some way, the uneasy contradictions I felt in Haynes’ film.
You say Haynes is ‘derivative’ yet then go on to say the movie is a homage and that Haynes does things Sirk would ‘NEVER’ do?
A work of art can be “derivative” but depart from its source material. The point here is that if Haynes is essaying an artful copy of Sirk and Fassbinder, it apes too much the superficial style while neglecting essential elements, I think, of the conceptual approach. I believe all of this was intended, but I suppose I’m still attempting to decipher why, precisely, Haynes decided to follow his masters’ blueprints in what appears to be the least rewarding ways. Again, though, just my opinion.
Yes, Haynes does something Sirk never did. He addresses race and sexuality.
Doesn’t “Imitation of Life” address both of those? Perhaps not as head-on, certainly, but by 50s standards…
Somehow I can’t see that this as ‘camp’.
If you return to my comment, you’ll see that I refer to it as “camp in reverse” — rather than mocking and distancing himself from his characters, Haynes dives into them. In any other setting I would applaud this — it’s one of Haynes’ gifts. But it’s hard to seek your teeth into characters who are based on those from paper-thin weepies — something that both Sirk and Fassbinder understood.
For me one of the scenes that stood out as particularly clunky in this regard was the one where Frank confesses to his wife that he’s fallen in love with a man. The premise of the confrontation is dramatically astute, and I love the way Haynes puts the male in the 50s woman’s role — breaking down emotionally, weeping uncontrollably, etc. It’s a delightful reversal. But as they talk you realize that the couple’s manner of communication is wholly deficient: not only because they reside in a dysfunctional marriage, but because the melodramatic genre won’t allow them to be any more articulate or emotionally aware. What’s bothersome about this is that the film revealed here, at least to me, the shortcomings of melodrama — I felt myself yearning to hear dialogue that nailed their mutual shame with more perspicacity. Again something that the best of Sirk manages to evade, although “Magnificent Obsession” comes close to seeming idiotic.
And no, I don’t see why an accurate rendition of 50s mores amounts to condescension.
I’m willing to accept that this is my modern projection. But the racism and bigotry of Sirk’s films always felt more “organic,” and I can’t quite explain it any more than that. I think it’s hard to make movies with subtle tinges of racism today, given our evolving perceptions. How can someone like Haynes properly inhabit the mindset of racism that is completely automatic and second nature?
The film in some ways may be eerie for a younger person but it is certainly far from useless.
Let me put it like this: if you’re going to copy Sirk’s ersatz-art and fail to embed any obvious modern social resonance, what is the point? Aside from having completed a daring aesthetic exercise? Which might answer my own question, so scratch that…
We can agree on the brilliant Mad Men, but if you look deeply at 50s noir films and television crime drama, you can’t say that Don Draper and co are any more hip or nihilist.
Of course, and you don’t even have to look deeply to find it. But Draper is a disillusioned “family man,” not — in the 50s noir sense — a criminal. Advertisers and writers have always been portrayed a bit darkly (“The Sweet Smell of Success”), but this didn’t typically spill over into the humdrum nature of quotidian life. In “Mad Men,” practically everything and everyone is poison — and the best damn kind.
Not once did I say anything about you walking around in black face paint like a minstrel show performer for days trying to understand the motivation of Dennis Haysbert’s character.
Dennis, I just caught this and didn’t want it to slip away unnoticed or unlauded. LOL…
It’s always a pleasure to read thoughtful and passionate celebrations of film. Bravo Sam for so eloquently championing a very fine movie. I thought FFH achieved a fine balance between genre homage and a more contemporary exploration of the social constrictions of the time upon those who more naturally swam against the tide, whether by dint of sexuality, race, or the heart.
All kidding aside.. Think this was an excellent essay in every way..
First of all I want to thank SARTRE for his perfectly modulated and economical commentary here, and simultaneoiusly thank him for his exceedingly kind words. Hearing from you my friend is always a very special treat, as I’m always assured of the highest quality response, informed by a lifetime of cultural appreciation and love of great cinema. I think what you said here is exactly what I was aiming for in my convoluted excesses– that there was a conscious “fine balance” between homage and the constrictions you speak on here so eloquently.
Jon: As always your presence on this or any other thread here at WitD adds an immeasurable scholarship that requires it’s dazed recipients to prepare arduously to counter, but it’s really what we always hope for. I can’t question how you reached your conclusions (and I fully realize that on balance you rather like the film, but exuse the pun find it ‘far from perfect’) but only can try to argue why the film worked spectacularly well for me.
“But it’s hard to seek your teeth into characters who are based on those from paper-thin weepies — something that both Sirk and Fassbinder understood.”
This is where I completely disagree. These characters, representative of a period when social issues practically reduced the significance of the person as an individual, moved on a level rarely seen in the cinema. I completely bought into the relationship forged by Moore and Haysbert, and its inevitable demise was no less wrenching and tragic, even in the throughs of inevitability. Beyond the cardboard and ornaments and seemingly superficial autumnal florishes this was a film that show an arrow that found it’s way to the human heart. There’s no greater tragedy than helplessness.
Just one final clarification based on Sam’s quite powerful rebuttal.
These characters, representative of a period when social issues practically reduced the significance of the person as an individual, moved on a level rarely seen in the cinema. I completely bought into the relationship forged by Moore and Haysbert, and its inevitable demise was no less wrenching and tragic, even in the throughs of inevitability. Beyond the cardboard an dornaments and seemingly superficial autumnal florishes this was a film that show an arrow that found it’s way to the human heart. There’s no greater tragedy than helplessness.
I do agree, somewhat, and when I suggested that the characters were “paper thin” I did not mean to dismiss them as inauthentic — simply, perhaps, a bit two-dimensional. But two-dimensional characters can still move us, as complexity is not a requisite for dramatic empathy, and I admit to indeed being moved by the protagonist’s dilemma herein. I think that perhaps if the film’s central tragedy had not been so captivating the other issues I detected would not have been nearly as frustrating.
Also, your point about “social issues” reducing the significance of the person as an individual may be very near to, and may better “answer,” my problem with the film. Not having lived during that era, such identity crises can be somewhat difficult to sympathize with.
“I do agree, somewhat, and when I suggested that the characters were “paper thin” I did not mean to dismiss them as inauthentic — simply, perhaps, a bit two-dimensional. But two-dimensional characters can still move us, as complexity is not a requisite for dramatic empathy, and I admit to indeed being moved by the protagonist’s dilemma herein. I think that perhaps if the film’s central tragedy had not been so captivating the other issues I detected would not have been nearly as frustrating.”
Jon, what can I say? That’s a fair and beautiful clarification there, and it does illustrate that if not for some relatively minor issues you may have been fully enraptured by the film.
Now on to The Powerstrip and Godard’s Un Femme Marie, which I have been unable to attend until now!
I am out of my depth I know, but a couple of things Jon.
You say of the husband and wife, “the melodramatic genre won’t allow them to be any more articulate or emotionally aware”. Perhaps this is mot so much melodrama but the point. Marriages are dysfunctional exactly because there is a dearth of honest communication and a lack of emotional awareness.
Don Draper is amoral and living a lie he cannot escape: he adopted someone else’s identity. The noir motif is palpable.
“The noir motif is palpable.”
Tony indeed, indeed. I have read some arguments to that effect in various treatments of the film. His predicament conforms to those specifications.
And you are most assuredly NOT out of your depth, not remotely!
Thanks for the comments, guys. Excellent point, Tony, about the lack of communication…
Don Draper is a amoral and living a lie he cannot escape: he adopted someone else’s identity. The noir motif is palpable.
Indeed, and that’s one of my favorite aspects of the show. There was a particular episode in Season 2 (spoilers follow, btw) where Don and a lover — the comedian’s wife — are in a car accident that seemed inspired by countless similar (and more severe) wrecks in classic noirs.
I remember there was very little joy in this film. Only the earlier scenes showed some kind of contentment. But there was something amiss under the surface too. I think it’s the kind of film to see when you really feel like having a good cry. But there are beautiful things in it, as this discussion has touched upon.
And thanks again, Jon for your stellar scholarly contributions throughout the thread.
Great point Ricky, about there being “something amiss beneath the surface.” How true. Well, it’s five-handkerchief weepie, no doubt about that. I appreciate you stopping by, you always bring something new to the table.
The film has much to say about race relations at that time, which of course relegates the black man to suserviance. But some good points have been made about how the film’s homosexual theme too; that it’s something that can be “cured”. As far as craftsmanship is concerned the film is near-perfection.
Sue and I saw this film at the Rialto in Ridgefield Park on a Saturday night these seven years ago. I remember the theatre being packed, and how hushed everyone was at the end. I read your thread yesterday, but didn’t have time to post until now. I can understand why the film might come off as artificial, especially since those are exactly the kind of films it emulated. But as your friend Sartre says, the film navigates a balancing act, and it works on far more than a single level. Most of the credit must go to Haynes, as he brought together all of the components. But Julianne Moore should have won the Oscar, as she was winning everything else, and those supporting players were magnificent. Sue was devastated, and still talks about that film to this day. I can understand your Guineess World records run there, as this film is “intoxicating”. I commend you on a grand piece of film criticism, that you should take a bow for. A review doesn’t come better than this.
Bobby: Yes indeed, thank you. These points have been broached, but certainly are worth repeating.
Peter: That is really a fabulous response, and I can’t say how much I appreciate it, even if you did go too far with the praise. In all seriousness, I appreciate you for sharing your experience and your well-noted love and appreciation of this film. I know how much Sue loves it too.
2002. A fine year for film. If I think back at it I remember I was smitten with quite a few.. The one two punch of Spielberg’s MINORITY REPORT and CATCH ME IF YOU CAN. Y TU MAMA TAMBIEN aroused me. THE TWO TOWERS dazzled me. I saw PANIC ROOM and FINDING NEMO several times. Nothing but praise for Scorsese capturing Daniel Day Lewis’s fire in GANGS OF NEW YORK. PUNCH DRUNK LOVE is a forgotten gem. I cried at Ed Harris’ suicide soliloque in THE HOURS. ADAPTATION was a surprise right out of left field. But, for me there were only two that got in my heart and soul. ROAD TO PERDITON crawled under my skin and revealed itself as a haunting visual tone poem, it’s imagery has never left my mind. Pedro Almodovar’s quirky and stunning TALK TO HER balanced everyday reality with the surrealist visions worthy of. Salvador Dali. I’ll never forget those two movies. Oh, and I didn’t forget FAR FROM HEAVEN. Dennis
And I will agree with Sam on Julianne Moore. Not that the Academy can ever be accused of always doing things right, but the blunders the made in the best actor and actress categories were atrocious. Julianne Moore was robbed for her work in this film. An even bigger disaster was denying Daniel Day Lewis the statue for his titanic turn in GANGS OF NEW YORK. These two, in my mind anyway, were land-slide no-brainers for the prizes. Dennis
Dennis:
Thanks very much for the comprehensive responses here, and you for your unflagging support. And of course your satire is also to die for!
For the record, my top ten films of 2002 are:
1 Far From Heaven (Haynes) USA
2 Talk To Her (Almodovar) Spain
3 Chicago (Marshall) USA
4 City of God (Mierelles) Brazil
5 10 (Kiarostami) Iran
6 The Hours (Daldry) UK
7 The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (Jackson) USA
8 Y Tu Mama Tambien (Cuaron) Mexico
9 Hero (Yimou) China
10 The Magdalene Sisters (Mullan) UK/Ireland
I bought the film on DVD last weekend. Have only seen it once, on VHS, I believe, and somehow the color was all messed up. I know the color palettes in the film aren’t exactly natural, but the version I saw had their faces positively green in some scenes. I enjoyed the film even so, but didn’t get fully into it, distracted as I was by the orange and green people.
I will have to revisit it soon and will keep your passionate and eloquent review in mind as I do.
Jenny: That was quite a coincidence that you just picked up the DVD (and I am admittedly thrilled to hear it) and I must say you will see an astonishing improvement over that dire VHS with the distorted colors. I can’t say I am certain (as we all have our own aesthetics and taste, much as yours has endless delighted me) but I do believe you will be fairly enraptured by the piece after you negotiate it in its proper form.
Thanks very much for your always considerate and glowing compliments.
I’m actually starting a campaign to shut Sam up talking about Far from Heaven, it’s obscene. I heard all the tales of how he hijacked, pressganged and generally bullied people into seeing the film with him until he’d run up 656 viewings on the big screen, several of his victims are still in therapy, and even Todd Haynes is wanting to shout ENOUGH ALREADY.
He had to sell one of his children – he later bought Jeremy back on ebay after selling a DVD to some poor sucker who didn’t realise a better version was coming out on Region 2 – sell his collection of two dozen pinball machines, make Lucille work a second job in addition to handing him Snaffle Ice Teas from the fridge right behind him because he was too busy gushing praise about Far from Heaven on the net to turn round himself, and put a mortgage on the dog cage to cover the expenditure.
If you’d like to visit some of his victims, they’re currently in Happydale Sanitorium, just outside Buffalo. They were so overwhelmed with constant reds, browns and greens that they’ve turned colour blind.
Got to admit Allan, I couldn’t have said it better. And, to let you know, Jeremy is back home after his ordeal of being sold for scientific and medical experimentation. Not that the child hasn’t been scarred: you have to keep him away from electrical outlets, he has a tendency of sticking his little fingers in them to show us how conductive power makes his hair stand straight and small wisps of smoke come out of his ears. The bad news; Sam has seen some money-making potential in this and has teamed the boy up with a chimp that wears a ballerina dress and smokes a cigar while playing “I Gotta Be Me” on the piano as Jeremy does his trick. Sam charges $85 dollars for private appearances and $300 dollars for birthday parties.
e has poor Jeremy fooled by telling him his cut is a mere 25 cents that he himself puts in the cookie jar for the boys safe keeping. He really uses the money to buy more dvd copies of FAR FROM HEAVEN that he spreads all over the bed so
(Continued from last comment) … All over the bed and rolls around naked in all the while moaning “JULIANNE”. No, Allan, you nailed it… Sam is deeply deeply disturbed. I stopped by the house the other day and when I asked his wife where he was she told me he was in the bedroon with FAR FROM HEAVEN doing his “naked” thing… SICK SICK SICK!!!!!
It is nice to know that humor and satire are thriving. But I do hope the discussion at this point could return to the analytical excellence that sustained most of the thread.
I just hope you could actually watch some films from your backlog, but that would be a victory for optimism over experience.
It’s nice to know that this thread is thriving. Perhaps the humor has gone a bit too far though.
Sam, I very much like you’re pointing out how Haynes juxtaposes the two outcasts and weighs their social (and inadvertent) transgressions against one another; this was something that I appreciated at the time, in this movie which I enjoyed a great deal but have never been particularly compelled to revisit (that said, you’ve encouraged me to at least put it on my Netflix queue, though lately that’s become known as The Black Hole, so we’ll see…)
Lots of interesting comments; unfortunately, I cannot read all of them. Jon’s point of view is interesting and theoretically I sympathize with his view that Sirk’s approach to melodrama is superior. I like this in an abstract way, you might say, because concretely I don’t really get that much out of Sirk and I enjoyed Far From Heaven more than All That Heaven Allows or Imitation of Life (the only Sirks I have seen as of now).
Sam, how do you feel Far From Heaven “ranks” alongside Sirk? Equal? Superior? Too much the apple to the orange, both of them being melodramatic fruit but of entirely different appeal? I’d love to know…
Movie Man: I can’t say I’m not thrilled you have read this review, especially as I know you are split in so many directions.
Well my friend, I must concur with you when you declare that Haynes’s film eclipses the two Sirks you have seen (IMITATION OF LIFE and ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS). Though I do like both quite a bit I think Sirk’s greatest work of all is the corrosive WRITTEN ON THE WIND, though it’s difficult to say exactly why. I would say this may be the most compelling example of characters being driven by their passions, while being surrounded by destructive forces, which includes their own personas. It’s probably Sirk’s most provocative work, and the craftsmanship right down the line is superlative. Robert Stack gives one of teh greatest Sirk performances.
Yet…..to answer your final question: No Sirk film (not the ones mentioned above, not THE TARNISHED ANGELS either) matches FAR FROM HEAVEN. I think Haynes replicated his German mentor’s exceedingly observant eye for composition and color, as well as high drama and imparted own profound examination of helplessness amidst social indifference that resonates as a definitive look at a time and place as well as an astute study of character. And no Sirk film was as emotionally overwhelming.
[…] friend Sam Juliano hasn’t said better — after all, he saw it 21 times in the theater! Click here to read his thoughts on the film. It’s definitely one of the most beautiful looking films of the […]
Well said Sam! I could spend my day here reading others comments, I shall not though!
This film touched me in someway, I remember how beautifully photographed and organised everything seemed to be. The need for realness cashes only the emotions…
Thanks so much Jeff!! Thanks for reading both reviews and for your impassioned assessment for this very great film. Thrilled that we are on the same page with it! Yes, magnificently shot by Ed Lachman indeed!