GUILTY PLEASURES
Most Mondays, Feb 4-Apr 7 (8pm). Royal Alberta Museum (102 Ave & 128 St). Info: 436-5625.
Why is it that we love watching our favourite stars go through such misery before our eyes?
Is it because they deal with traumatic turns of events better than the rest of us? Is it the fact that they look more glamourous while weeping than we ever could? Is it because it’s not us?
Or is it simply one of life’s guilty pleasures?
There’s a chance to find out for yourself for the next few months as the Edmonton Film Society’s Winter 2008 film series, Guilty Pleasures, begins at the Royal Alberta Museum. In this case, the guilty pleasures include adultery, scandal, alcoholism, teen pregnancy, broken hearts, evil spoiled daughters, murder, and treachery, not to mention some of the finest screen slaps ever filmed.
Some movies defy their own destiny as cheese, and the programme for Guilty Pleasures proves it. Never has so much human suffering and overacted strife been assembled in our fair city—nor has it been so ridiculously yet elegantly coiffed and presented. These films, many of which were dismissed at the time as lurid and tawdry, defied expectations and became not just high-grossing hits, but award-worthy, and in a couple of cases, classics. There’s something unusually compelling about watching top-notch actors wrestling with writing that dips dangerously into camp territory: it’s almost as if they know they need to go over the top to make it work.
Marvel, for instance, at Patty Duke’s devious machinations and Sharon Tate’s vacant beauty as they negotiate the pitfalls of stardom in Valley of the Dolls (February 4). Lick your lips at the sordid small-town scandal, presided over by a steely and repressed Lana Turner in her first mother role, in the infamous Peyton Place (February 11). There will be chills up and down your spine from the jealousy-possessed ice maiden created by Gene Tierney in Leave Her to Heaven (February 25). Gasp at the parade of stars and wonder who will live and who will die in Airport (March 3). Be dazzled by the overpriced, lush splendour of The Best of Everything (March 10). Swoon over Troy Donahue and Sandra Dee, filmed at the height of their youthful vitality, forever cementing the image of young love in A Summer Place (March 17). Shake your head in disgust and fascination as the rich and the spoiled waste their silver-spoon existence in the much-neglected Written on the Wind (March 23). Witness Joan Crawford’s return to Hollywood glory as she chews up the scenery, slaps her spoiled daughter across the face, and wins her only Oscar in Mildred Pierce (April 7).
As much as we may titter in retrospect at the “huge” acting choices of their stars, the number of Oscar nominations and awards for acting in these films is astounding. Joan Crawford waited over three years, passing up script after script at her new Warner Brothers home, before finding Mildred Pierce, a script that Bette Davis and Barbara Stanwyck had already passed on. In fact, she wanted the film so bad, that the Legend even offered to (gasp!) do a screen test to prove that she had the right stuff. It remains one of her most famous roles.
Sex bomb Lana Turner was warned not to take the role of the mother in Peyton Place; nevertheless, it garnered Turner her one and only Oscar nomination. (The film also garnered Supporting Actress nods for both Diane Varis and Hope Lange.) Gene Tierney’s got the only Oscar nomination of her career (and deservedly so) for Leave Her to Heaven. Airport supplied veteran actress Helen Hayes with her second Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, in what must be the only instance of a disaster movie actually being a showcase for outstanding acting. Dorothy Malone won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for playing nympho rich girl Marylee Hadley in Written on the Wind, and never got another role anywhere near this juicy.
But it makes perfect sense that overemotional melodramas would be the perfect vehicle for actors—and especially actresses—to indulge in the kind of acting that draws Oscar attention to itself. So while celebrating the cheese, one must also admire the tenacity of performers who can turn tawdry and torrid into award-worthy.
And don’t forget the villains. Bitchery of the highest order is on full, rampaging display throughout this entire series—nowhere more so than in Ann Blyth’s performance as Mildred Pierce’s evil, spoiled daughter Veda. (This character remains chilling even after repeated viewings.) Ten bucks says the audience in the Royal Alberta Museum auditorium will burst into applause as Crawford bitchslaps the little brat after one insult too many.
Yes, there are men in these movies too, including some of Hollywood’s most famous and durable names: Burt Lancaster, Vincent Price, Rock Hudson, Dean Martin. But it’s the women who make these films sail above camp and enter into the pantheon of the unforgettable.
I can’t wait to see them on the big screen—my only quibble with the EFS is the title they’ve given this series. These movies provide pure pleasure—there’s no guilt about it.
