Haynes and Vachon reunite once again to strap Mr. and Mrs. America to the
Saturday Evening Post. "Far From Heaven" is a colorful "kitsch" portrait of
what could unexpectedly go wrong amidst upper-middle-class Americans half a
century back when people would put up appearances, but couldn't manage to
keep the truth hidden far from the madding crowd.
Julianne Moore, as Cathy Whitaker, captures the essence of a fifties housewife
incredibly. Knowing exactly when to be diplomatic, friendly, magnanimous, or
unhappy, she is exultant as the motor behind the home front. Although her
outfits (beautifully designed by Sandy Powell) are a little "too too" (the
elaborate materials used, for example, to construct these housedresses were
never actually used for such designs during that period), the cut is perfect,
the intention is fine, and one accepts such fabrics as part of the plush
richness to be found in Haynes' sublimated suburbia. (Cathy will finally
leave her housedresses behind to evolve into a dress suit and pursue newfound
freedoms.)
Dennis Quaid, as Frank Whitaker, writhes exquisitely with conflict and inner
torment for enjoying the love that dare not speak its name either in movie
theatres or in offices. (Let's face it, Frank, there's nothing like
unwinding after a hard day at work.) He goes over the top in such a
deliciously believable and controlled way that he makes us want to throw our
arms around him and do whatever we can to help him out with his predicament.
(A curious afterthought: one might reasonably wonder how Frank would respond
if going to see this particular movie.)
Raymond Deagan (Dennis Haysbert) is the black "Rock Hudson" type who, with his
seductively deep timbre, impresses us as he displays his tools of fathership.
He proves to be a kind, warm-hearted man who harbors only good intentions
toward the wonderful (and in no way unattractive) Mrs. Whitaker. Although he
repeatedly appears and disappears in and out of several bushes, he genuinely
seems more interested in the lady of the house than in the flora gloriosa he
tends.
The neighbors are another matters altogether. They can't stop gossiping or
expressing disfavor and disdain toward anyone who doesn't fit properly into
their scheme of things. These types would've done much the same in a Douglas
Sirk film. Director Todd Haynes recalls that "In many of Sirk's films it's
the children, older kids, who are often the most extreme spokespeople for the
repressions of their culture. There's no sentimentality towards offspring in
these films." In Haynes' present film, on the other hand, the children
(Ryan Ward and Lindsay Andretta), caught between the tumultuous developments
taking place within their household, are too young to have yet grown up into
Sirkian know-it-all brats deeply embedded in the throes of revolt. In fact,
young David (Ryan Ward) is so obedient, helpful, and dutiful, that he appears
too good to be true and therefore fits right into the scope of this sort of
melodrama. Too young to push his parents around, mom and dad will have to
look to their neighbors and peers for degradation.
Haynes' attention to detail has made sublime use of production designer Mark
Friedberg's talents. The transitions from locations to sets are seamless and
one gets so lost in the color combinations that one almost believes
Technicolor has returned at last. Of course, DP Edward Lachman has also done
his best in rendering images of perfection that capture the essence of this
movie. And then there's the inimitable Elmer Bernstein score that adds a
special element so hauntingly connected to all films with which he has been
associated. (NB- notice the leitmotif running through the film like a
delicate thread. The music also serves on occasion as a source of revelation
and announcement before a specific action or dramatic moment takes place, such
as when the young boy appears poolside to join his family.)
Haynes may ultimately be disappointed, however, in expecting an audience that
will react "with tears. Tears of recognition, where the heightened
stylistic experience only clarifies how much, in this all-too-human story, we
recognize ourselves." One appreciates the craft with which the whole film
has been constructed, but cannot ignore a seemingly intentional
tongue-in-cheek humor at play which becomes heightened by the slow paced
development of the dramatic story. Sirk was, like Haynes is, a man of devoted
passion, but the former forged the impulses of his characters with more force.
What becomes especially interesting about the film, although not necessarily
an essential part of cinematic dissertation, is the fact that the title has
relevant aspects in varying ways. First of all, it announces the fact that
things are not as they might appear at first glance in the state of
Connecticut. Although the title is derived from "All That Heaven Allows",
there is no attempt to make either the plot line or the characters bear any
direct resemblance to this earlier work. This doesn't matter either, since
the film is intended as an "homage" to Douglas Sirk and therefore it brews
together his approaches and methods into a new tale that "kitschifies" even
further the work of the "master" (if such a thing is possible). In this way,
the Haynes film winds up, indeed, far from "Heaven". Despite being situated
in the fifties, the story deals with the taboo topics of homosexuality and
mixed race relations. (What a hoot for the neighbors; such goings-on would
certainly have kept their tongues wagging!)
Because of these deviations, a seemingly happy marriage is methodically torn
apart, behind closed doors (naturally). There are other matters afoot,
however, which are not discussed within the framework of the film, but
inherently suggested by events themselves. The homosexual husband of the
fifties, who was unable to come out a-la-nineties, suffers torment because he
has followed a path commanded by social dictates. Poor boy! (Remember that
this man believes that any of the medical nightmares implemented for
corrective treatment during the fifties should be considered in order that he
might continue to lead a "normal" life!) And the wife, who finds herself
edging closer to the gardener's hedge, knows that, if she should transgress
other specific social rules, she could easily place both her family's
security and her own personal standing in the community at risk. Poor girl!
(She'll just have to be satisfied with her meager and well-intended donations
to the NAACP.) Both of these married partners are living lives that are far
from Heaven. And the neighborhood they live in, despite its warm autumnal
hues and Norman Rockwell streets, is equally distanced from any peace on high.
Yes, this picture book portrayal of American domestic bliss from two
generations ago holds as many surprises in store for the viewer as the quiet,
middle American town revealed in Don Siegel's "Invasion of the Body Snatchers"
(where people also felt threatened by the unknown). Haynes' film takes place
in Connecticut where, despite the fact that we've travelled fifty years
onward, one nowadays often has to have a residency permit to sun and swim at
certain beaches in "The Constitution State". (After all, one can't be too
careful of riff-raff.)
It may be terrifying to some to contemplate that many will probably take this
film to heart in completely the wrong way. Those separated from the
sophistication of civilization may tend to believe that this film is meant as
a diatribe against both homosexuality and mixed relations. (Such people will
undoubtedly miss the humor as well.) Be wary, traveler, of those who would
tell you the family portrayed here has created its own problems. Such
harbingers belong amongst the group of neighbors found in the movie. Send
them back to a past generation if you cannot enlighten them. Yes, it's
frightening to think that some are still so wrapped up in discrimination that
they can't manage to understand what life is all about. Never mind, they
have rules to tell them what they should do to prevent making any mistakes or
wasting any time trying to think about things.
No, it isn't very pretty what a town without pity can do.
© 1994-2006 The Green Hartnett
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