by Allan Fish
(USA 2002 107m) DVD1/2
Here’s to being the only one
p Christine Vachon, Jody Patton d/w Todd Haynes ph Ed Lachman ed James Lyons m Elmer Bernstein art Mark Friedberg cos Sandy Powell
Julianne Moore (Cathy Whitaker), Dennis Quaid (Frank Whitaker), Dennis Haysbert (Raymond Deagan), Patricia Clarkson (Eleanor Fine), Viola Davis (Sybil), James Rebhorn (Dr Bowman), Celia Weston (Mona Lauder),
If ever a film of the last few years seemed to have appeared on our screens as if out of a time capsule, it was Todd Haynes 2002 drama. But was there a more subtly shaded, delicately composed film that year? It is also one of the great homages from one artist to another made for the silver screen, in this case Todd Haynes bowing down at the altar of Douglas Sirk, the cinema’s master of the four hankie melodrama.
Cathy Whitaker is a model wife in late fifties American suburbia, with a successful husband, model children, a lovely home and a circle of friends with whom she spends many an afternoon. But behind the façade, paradise is crumbling. Her black gardener, Otis, has died, and his young son Raymond has taken over his duties. In simply consoling him with a hand on a shoulder upon hearing of Otis’ death, she attracts the unwanted gossipy attention of her so-called friends, but worse is to come when her husband announces that he is a homosexual. A ‘condition’ not mentioned in polite society. And as for her spending time with a black man, well, what can I say?
Was Sirk worth the adulation? It depends on who you listen to, but it’s in seeing a typical Sirkian drama shot in the modern era, that allows what was merely hinted at in Sirk’s films to be, though still only whispered, mentioned. More than anything, this is one of the great films about colour, not just metaphorical colour, but racial colour and actual colour, too. Is there a more vibrant colour spectrum in recent memory than in Todd Haynes’ film? Is there a more gorgeous opening credits shot than the autumnal hues of the trees drifting into contrast with the deliberately over-vibrant greens of the perfect lawns of middle-class suburbia? And reds and greens feature prominently, right down to the symbolism of Cathy’s dress sense. The greens seem to point their way to one or more of the protagonist opening up to themselves, as in the green tinge to the interior lighting of the gay bar Quaid’s husband first visits, or the green dress Moore wears when Haysbert takes her to his local joint, not to mention the grass of the lawns that brings two lonely individuals together in the first place. No wonder then that the reds are the barriers, the stop signs to their emotional development and rebirth, perfectly shown in the red railway lights behind Moore as she stands on the platform waving goodbye to the train which has taken Haysbert away from her.
Yet the symbolism stretches beyond mere colour schemes. In addition to Ed Lachman’s gorgeous photography (especially interiors, with their deliberately artificial shades), think of Elmer Bermstein’s score, radiantly original, yet so reminiscent of the scores of Frank Skinner half a century earlier as to be uncanny. All topped off by the wardrobe of one of the greatest living film costumiers, Sandy Powell, whose attire for Moore alone is quite devastating. And below this lush surface, we have a probing, acerbic look at a scabrous fifties small-town America, as devastating as anything Sirk ever managed (or was allowed to manage). In some ways it is the polar opposite of Mike Leigh’s Vera Drake, which also hid dark secrets behind everyday life, but went for drab rather than vibrancy. One cannot forget the films showing in the cinema into which Quaid retreats – The Three Faces of Eve and Miracle in the Rain, starring Sirk’s own Janie Wyman – nor can one finish without mentioning the performances, amongst whom a revelatory Quaid stands out, while Moore is simply extraordinary, from first to painful last. That she effectively played another perfect housewife whose world falls apart in Safe (also for Haynes) cannot be overlooked, as there are references to her earlier roles everywhere, not least in the final fade out crane shot resting on a host of magnolias.
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 are 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 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.
Needless to say there isn’t another film I have seen that many times in the theatre. The film held an inexorable hold on me, and I dare say it hasn’t loosened it’s grip.
Sam, I’m still a little unclear as to how you felt about this film…
I found much to admire here as well, though it didn’t ultimately make my list (it easily could have snuck in there after a re-watch and recount). This is probably my second favorite Julianne Moore performance after THE END OF THE AFFAIR (though she was tops in those PT Anderson films from the ’90’s as well). Dennis Haysbert has always struck me as an underrated actor, too. I thought he was pitch-perfect here.
“Sam, I’m still a little unclear as to how you felt about this film… ”
LOL David!!!!!! Love it!!!!!!
I quite agree with you on Haysbert, and I know you have embraced him for his other work as well.
Well said, Sam! Wow. I certainly agree with you. This is a beautifully shot film – a masterclass in cinematography that should be studied in film school. But obviously, this film is much more than an unabashed fan letter to Sirk. There is much more going on in this film as you rightly and so eloquently point out. I also wonder, do you think Haynes was at all inspired by any of Vincente Minnelli’s films? Some of them also seem to have a sense of heightened melodrama and vibrant color palettes.
Thanks so much J.D. for the kind words, and I’m thrilled to read of your love for the film. That’s an interesting proposal there with Minnelli, and I dare say the melodrama and color palettes do encourage such a perception!
In film class I once threw up on myself after watching Sirk’s Imitation Of Life. The whole class laughed their way through the full duration of the movie. It was absurd on every conceivable level. I’m more inclined to believe that the drunk guy ranting on my corner is the messiah before I believe that Susan Kohner is black and daughter to Annie Johnson. While some of Sirk’s other pictures were marginally better I find the guy to be a glorified hack. This disdain for Sirk seeps and affects my view of this film. While I would say that Far From Heaven is much better than those old melodramas it still does not affect me the same way it does Sam ( to make a rather obvious understatement).
To be honest, Maurizio, I’m not a massive fan of Sirk myself. ATHA and WOTW are excellent melodramas of their type, but not masterpieces, ****½ films, FFH is better than anything Sirk did. As for IOL, I agree wholeheartedly, it’s a camp mess. The 1934 Stahl original is far better and even that shows its age. Likewise I prefer Stahl’s Magnificent Obsession to Sirk’s, even if Robert Taylor is about as emotional as a bit of 2 by 4.
Sam’s feelings for FFH are obvious, he opines over that quicker than he does over his own kids. His comment is twice the size of my original entry. If he controlled the world, not rating it the best film would be a crime punishable by death.
What about A Time To Love And A Time To Die? It’s easily Sirk’s best film.
I think THE TARNISHED ANGELS is both a masterpiece and easily Sirk’s greatest film.
Even if we didn’t like him, or considered him a hack he sprouted enough to make his input worthwhile (certainly Fassbinder’s career would have been different with no Sirk for example).
Yes, it would, Jamie, but sometimes I feel it’s an obsession that clouded him more than it inspired him.
Allan, that’s an interesting and fair statement.
Donophon, that’s a great choice, no doubt about it!
Au contraire on that “hack” assessment, Maurizio, but I know you are not alone. He definitely divides critics and audiences, and it seems opinions are mostly to the extreme. Thanks for the personal anecdote.
OH SHIT! JESUS! He had to have it at 33? You couldn’t have it higher, huh, Allan. SAM is gonna bombard the blog for revenge. I never saw one person support a single film the way he supported FAR FROM HEAVEN. He drove myself, Lucille and most anyone he could get to within shouting distance,absolutely bonkers over this film. If you went against this film, Sam was looking to fight you, kill your dog anf thrrateningf to burn your house down. That one massive comment aboove is just the mere tip of the iceberg for Sam. Goddamnit, Allan, you had to go do this?
I just think it’s an exemplary piece of work but 32 pieces of work were better. Certainly never top 20 material.
When I saw this I though, “Wow, either Sam’s going to be delighted that he can talk about this film he loves more than life itself … or he’s gonna be really pissed that it’s at #32!”
Btw Allan,
Something’s up with the pictures – I’d suggest going into HTML mode and fixing the values before publishing – divide 500 by whatever the aspect ratio is and change the other number accordingly. This is what I’ve been doing when I catch it, but sometimes I can’t get there till the next morning…
To keep the aspect ratio right in HTML, set the width but not the height. Just delete the height attribute altogether, and the HTML will automatically set the correct proportional height.
Thanks very much for this Ed!
“this film he loves more than life itself.”
LOL Joel!!!! Sometimes I wonder………
I love this film, and this is a beautiful essay. I especially liked your attention to the colours, since part of the homage to Sirk was to re-introduce the symbolic power hard, candy-coating colours had for Sirk in his films.
Unlike Sam, however, I appreciate that melodramas are not everyone’s cup of tea. Like Maurizio, I watched Imitation of Life (and Written on the Wind) in a film class, surrounded by people who were not expecting to watch “women’s weepies.” These same people really liked Ozu, though.
Hey Jeopardy Girl!
Well, I do respect the fact that melodramas like this are not everyone’s cup of tea. I just ventured here to state my own case, as this is my #1 film of the decade. I have no issue at all with those who disagree.
Incidentally, you have something there with Ozu, as I am one who adores that Japanese director as much as any other, and I’m a huge Sirk fan too.
ALL KIDDING ASIDE… SAM’s love for this film is deeply inspiring when you take into account the full emmersion he, ANYONE, can derive from the artform. In many cases, we never truly connect with film or, for that matter, any art form to the point that we become passionate over it. You have to give FAR FROM HEAVEN propts for doing this. For myself, I love this movie as well if, for no other reason (and there ARE many, the spot on recreation of that TYPE of film Douglas Sirk was a master at creating. To me, its a supposition of sorts, a “what if” kind of movie. WHAT IF Sirk had the ability to lay his hinted at story points out on the table (instead of hinting at them). HEAVEN shows us what it would have been like if the gloves came off. This is a ravishingly beautiful and telling film. I’m with SAM all the way on this one.
Dennis, do you remember just how obsessed I really was with this film? I actually went into the now defunct Regal Cinemas in North Bergen (a.k.a. the ‘bomb shelter’) to count the number of people that attended each show from the back of the theatre, after showings of other films I had attended were concluded. I also campaigned for fellow teachers and friends to attend, by offering them rides to the theatre.
A great review Allan and a comment for the ages Sam. This was a great film, and like I said about Wong Kar Wai in the In The Mood For Love post, Todd Haynes is another great director who I had hoped to have seen more of during the countdowns. His career has been a fascinating one with a lot of great work: I’m Not There was my favorite of his from this decade and Safe was one of the great underrated masterpieces of not only the nineties but all of cinema.
Anu, thanks very much. Aye, I have long known of your love for Haynes, and I’m with you completely.
This is an amazing film, and though I’m not quite as rapturous over it as Sam is (who is???), I do really love it. It takes the ever-present subtext of Sirkian melodrama and moves it closer to the surface, allowing the seedy underbelly to rub right up against the glossy surfaces – to show, in fact, that the grime and the gloss are facets of the same thing, the same society.
The problem is that I set the ratio to the correct ratio, but then often, though inserted correctly, it sometimes reverts in the showing. The same seems to have happened with Closer.
Allan, if that’s the case wait until after publishing and edit the post in HTML mode; re-set the vertical value by dividing 500 by 1.85 (or whatever the ratio is). Should work…
Typically stupendous comment here Ed.
I think that this film is a strange one for me, I’ve always thought that the way it handles ‘taboo’ topics misses the mark. Or rather they miss the mark in the 2000’s– I just can never shake the thought that the handling of race and sexuality in this 2002 film is still rather 1950ish (the last time I watched this film was after I learned how much Sam loved it, then I watched the Sirk, and honestly they seem from the same era. Which is good and bad) . I think the film could have been really subversive, imagine if a John Waters or specifically a Todd Solondz did it, a true 2002 progressive mindset set in the 1950s. Just a thought.
But this is just a very personal quibble, as I think the film is still very successful from every other way a film can be: costume, acting, dialogue, set design, lightning, photography, music, mood, pacing etc. are all rather terrific.
Allan’s essay as great as it is, has the unfortunate fate of sitting atop Sam’s fantastic comment. Kudos guys.
Hey Jamie, Waters would have really established some potent satitical underpinnings!!! Great stuff! I didn’t see that aspect as off the mark myself, but I’ll admit it’s a very persuasive argument.
Yes, so many elements seem perfectly rendered. Thanks so much for the very kind words.
Great write-ups, both Sam and Allen; I know one of you would probably be sacrificed to this film’s altar. 🙂 I’m not as massive a fan — I’ve actually debated its characters’ thinness elsewhere — but as with the far less successful but similarly-themed REVOLUTIONARY ROAD, I’ve come around to accepting (if not entirely forgiving) its flaws through the acrimony of my own domestic troubles. As with Jamie, however, the film’s anachronistic qualities are slightly troubling to me still.
FAR FROM HEAVEN is so redolent of Sirk and yet lacks that classic director’s trademark stylistic tension, wherein melodramatic situations are rendered as directly and gut-jerkingly as possible even as we feel the man behind the camera subtly chortling at their misfortune (eg MAGNIFICENT OBSESSION, which Sirk privately thought inane, and the masterpiece ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS). I actually see Sirk as one of the great subterranean satirists — by playing drippy tragic-irony completely for face value he held a gaudy mirror up to the backwards values of the time, and he did it with such ersatz-Greek narrative sincerity and Teutonic-expressive cinematographic aplomb he had audiences weeping all over their own idiocy.
In FAR FROM HEAVEN I see too much forgiveness, perhaps — and too much retreat from the ferocity of the status quo. Consider that, for example, in the denouement to FAR FROM HEAVEN the tragedy is facilitated by the characters’ conformity (they part ways, realizing the impossibility of their union), whereas in ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS and IMITATION OF LIFE the tear-jerking finales represent the battering down of social shields after hard lessons learned too late (Wyman caring for the invalid Hudson, Sandra Dee weeping over an expired totem to her blackness-finally-exposed). In FAR FROM HEAVEN the despondency is all-but-self-imposed, a postmodern flourish that looks a mite out-of-touch with Sirk’s ultra-fatalistic and ultimately spirit-affirming aesthetic (even if that aesthetic is, itself, hesitant and near-mocking at times).
Either way, I did list FFH on my top 100 of the decade for Slant and, perversely, I was chosen to write about it. Here’s my blurb:
“Doused in the autumnal Technicolor palette and glacial social friction of Douglas Sirk’s heyday with only the faintest whisper of kitsch sensibility, FAR FROM HEAVEN jarringly juxtaposes dissonant layers of relationship superficiality and aesthetic authenticity. Julianne Moore and Dennis Quaid embody the disillusioned ethos of mid-century suburban sexual bewilderment with angst that neither condescends to obsolete mores nor provides tidy, empowering paths to self-actualization, and the supporting characters—particularly Dennis Haysbert’s sable, green-thumbed scion and Patricia Clarkson’s retractable-taloned gossip—approach their stock attributes with prototypical savvy. Todd Haynes’s interpretation of 1950s cinema is far more sociological than it lets on: candy-color coordinated, obsessed with deceiving surfaces, and laced with dull, aching bitterness.”
Geez, if this isn’t a Hall of Fame comment, I don’t know what is. I’ve read your issues before Jon, and they are superbly founded. As I stated, for me all the elements click to create a film that’s as deeply moving as any I’ve seen, I wasn’t bothered by these disclaimers myself. That analysis of Sirk’s work in the latter part of your second paragraphy is amazing. Unilke Allan, I am a huge fan of the director. I think my personal favorite is WRITTEN ON THE WIND, those several others, including the one that inspired FAR FROM HEAVEN, do push close. I can’t thank you enough for posting this magisterial response here on this thread Jon. It’s a real keeper.
I do know that our buddy Tony d’Ambra is a very big fan of this film too.
YES, SAM, YES! I remember full well how obsessed you were. How angry you would get if a candy wrapper was crunched or a popcorn container rattled. Your obsession with this film bordered on you going into convulsions and night sweats when away from a theatre showing it. That Lucille and I didn’t A. KILL YOU or B: HAVE YOU COMITTED TO THE BOOBY HATCH says something about our A: TOLERANCE LEVEL and B: LOVE FOR YOU. I just thought, as many did, that you were really off your rocker blasting the score of the film fron the car speakers with the windows open. You driving like that had everyone in Fairview thinking a float from the NYC Gay Pride had broken free and was barreling down the block… But, that’s a time now in the past and the guys with the butterfly nets and Polish dinner jackets are no longer looking for you…. Don’t forget to take your meds.
Ah you quirky New Jerseyans. My girlfriend is from Passaic so I know how strange the population of that state is lol. Applegate Farms has great ice cream. I got a quart of Graham Central Station in my refrigerator at the moment. We try to visit all the “Weird New Jersey” sites like Annie’s Road. The fact that their is a book and website dedicated to the inherit strangeness of the region explains everything. Sam’s blasting of Elmer Bernstein’s score is probably not that peculiar all things considered.
LOL Maurizio!!!!
Passaic is only about 20-25 minutes from where I live. I drove an airport limousine for about 16 years on weekends and during the summer, even after I had secured my teacher’s license, and I had many rides in and out of town. It is a peculiar area with overly emotional people, and theer are a number of “landmarks” in addition to the excellent examples you give here. I often think of so many of these towns in relation to their proximity to area movie theatres! Ha!