Old Yorker

  • Human Desire

    Old YorkerFilm review

    Fritz Lang (1954)

    The determination of Hollywood eventually triumphs over the determinism of Emile Zola in Fritz Lang’s reworking of La bête humaine.  This is a relief for the viewer even if, in light of the Zola elements that Lang retains, it makes limited sense.  The critic Dave Kehr complained that Human Desire was ‘marred only by [Glenn] Ford’s ability to register an appropriate sense of doom’ but any sense of doom on Ford’s part would be inappropriate.  His character, unlike his Jean Gabin counterpart in Jean Renoir’s version of the Zola novel, is a leading man predestined not to come to a bad end.  What mars the film isn’t Glenn Ford’s solid, convincing acting but Fritz Lang’s failure – or disinclination – to integrate Human Desire’s disparate elements.

    The screenplay, by Alfred Hayes, updates the Zola story to the present day and relocates it in America.  The Ford character, Jeff Warren, is returning to work as a train driver after military service in the Korean War.  As he did before the War, Jeff boards with his work colleague Alec Simmons (Edgar Buchanan) and Alec’s family – his wife Vera (Diane DeLaire) and daughter Ellen (Kathleen Case).  While Jeff has been in Korea, Ellen has changed from a cute teenager into an attractive young woman.  (Kathleen Case was twenty-one at the time but looks considerably older.)  It’s clear from the start that Ellen has eyes only for Jeff but he gets embroiled in a love affair with Vicki (Gloria Grahame), the much younger wife of hard-drinking railyard supervisor Carl Buckley (Broderick Crawford), who is violently possessive of her.  When he loses his supervisor job, Buckley urges Vicki to exploit her acquaintance with railroad executive John Owens (Grandon Rhodes) to get him reinstated:  her mother used to be Owens’s housekeeper and Vicki grew up in his home.  She reluctantly agrees to visit Owens but with disastrous results.  She’s gone for several hours and Buckley guesses how far she had to go to accomplish the mission he gave her.   He constructs a plan to murder Owens and forces Vicki to assist.  He makes her write a letter to Owens, setting up a meeting on a train.  After killing Owens in the latter’s private compartment, Buckley retains Vicki’s potentially incriminating letter, to dissuade her from going to the police.

    Jeff is taking a complimentary ride back home on the same train.  He witnesses Vicki leaving Owens’s compartment but, immediately smitten with her, denies having seen her before when he subsequently gives evidence to the inquest into Owens’s death.  As their liaison develops, Jeff finds out more about Vicki’s unhappy past (Owens used her sexually when she was a teenager) and present (Buckley is a different kind of domestic abuser – a wife-beater).   Vicki urges Jeff to kill Buckley, insisting that’s the only way they can be together.  It’s in the closing stages that the storyline departs most decisively from that of Zola’s novel (and Renoir’s film).  Jeff can’t bring himself to murder Buckley and decides that Vicki was, from the start, setting him up to get rid of her husband.  Jeff ends the relationship with her but he does obtain from the drunken Buckley, and gives to Vicki, the letter she wrote to Owens.  She is now free to escape and takes a train out of town but Buckley arrives in her compartment.   In a paroxysm of jealous rage – he begs her not to leave him, accuses her of preparing to run off with Jeff – Buckley strangles Vicki to death.  Up front in the driver’s seat, Jeff takes from his pocket a ticket to a dance which Ellen Simmons sold him a while previously, hoping that Jeff would invite her as his partner.

    There are plenty of individually strong elements in Human Desire.  The sequences of the train in motion, hurtling through tunnels and open country; the domestic scenes at the Simmons’s; the sense that Jeff, at the start, is both relieved and disappointed that his pre-Korea existence is resuming; his later realisation of the difference between killing a man in warfare and in civilian life.  But the train’s speeding inexorably along the track ahead doesn’t make the sense it made in Renoir’s film since Jeff Warren ends up controlling his fate as well as the engine.  Lang’s quasi-documentary observation of the railyards and their environs sits oddly with the noir visual conventions in evidence elsewhere.  Human Desire was showing at BFI as part of the Gloria Grahame season programmed to coincide with the release of Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool.  Good as she is in Crossfire, the first film that I saw in the season, her appearance in it is so brief that it came as a relief that Grahame’s role was bigger here.  She’s excellent early on at conveying Vicki’s attraction to Jeff – and fear of him, as a witness to her exit from Owens’s train compartment.  Her performance pays diminishing returns, largely because Vicki has to do so much half-truth telling and Grahame’s playing of this is repetitive.  Broderick Crawford also starts well but overdoes Buckley’s alcoholic misery at the business end of the story.  While Buckley is waiting impatiently for his wife to return from her appointment at Owens’s home, he talks with Vicki’s friend Jean (Peggy Maley), who is getting ready to go out.  ‘You dames’, grumbles Buckley, ‘you spend more time gettin’ dressed …’  Jean replies with the most enjoyable line in the script:  ‘Have to – it’s much better to have good looks than brains ‘cos most of the men I know can see much better than they can think’.   The music by the splendidly named Daniele Amfitheatrof is conscientiously over-explanatory.

    21 November 2017

  • Professor Marston and the Wonder Women

    Old YorkerFilm review

    Angela Robinson (2017)

    Professor Marston and the Wonder Women went on general release in Britain on 10 November, when it opened in nine venues across London.  A week later, that number was down to two.  By the end of the month, Professor Marston had disappeared.  I must be one of a rather small group of London filmgoers who’ve not seen Patty Jenkins’s Wonder Woman but have seen Angela Robinson’s film.  It’s a strange one.  I quite enjoyed and liked it.  All three principal actors are, in different ways, engaging.  But writer-director Robinson never finds a satisfactory way of telling her extraordinary (based on a) true story.

    William Moulton Marston, born in 1893, was an American psychologist and inventor of an early prototype of the lie detector.   In 1928, Marston published Emotions of Normal People, in which he set out his ‘DISC theory’, based on behavioural patterns of Dominance, Inducement, Submission and Compliance[1].  He held a Harvard professorship and his wife, Elizabeth Holloway Marston, was his chief research collaborator.  Both lost their jobs in the light of their relationship with a younger woman called Olive Byrne, originally Marston’s research assistant.  The Marstons and Olive then became a ménage à trois in suburban New York.  Marston had four children, two with Elizabeth and two with Olive.  In the early 1940s, he began a remarkable second career, as the creator of Wonder Woman.  The two strong women in his own life are believed to have strongly influenced the development of his fictional superheroine.  The nature of the sexual relations that he, Elizabeth and Olive enjoyed is widely assumed to have inspired the motifs of domination, submission, bondage etc in the comic books that Marston authored.

    This life story is undoubtedly stranger than fiction though fiction is what parts of Angela Robinson’s version of it (which the paragraph above reflects) have been dismissed as, by Marston’s granddaughter Christie.  She is quoted on Wikipedia as follows:

    ‘[The] depiction of the family and Wonder Woman’s origins are made up. … [The film] is based on someone’s imagination not in any way related to my family. … The relationship between Gram [Elizabeth Marston] and Dots [Olive Byrne] is wrong; they were as sisters, not lovers. … [The film has] Marston presenting an idea for a female hero, and Elizabeth naysaying the idea, declaring that nobody would ever publish it. … [My grandfather] … discussed it with my grandmother. She said to go ahead and do it, but that it had to be a woman.’

    If Christie Marston’s objections are right, the last inaccuracy – implying that Marston didn’t himself think up a ground-breaking female superhero – is somewhat surprising.  Angela Robinson evidently wants to present Marston (Luke Evans) as a feminist ahead of his time:  his psychological research convinces him that women are more emotionally honest and, according to the DISC theory, in many respects more able than men; he champions feminist causes.  But not entirely surprising.  In pushing Marston’s feminism, Robinson gets into a bind because she also wants to portray Elizabeth (Rebecca Hall) as a woman whose talents were stymied by contemporary constraints and conventions, including subservience to her husband.  At the start of the film, Elizabeth is angry that she’s considered ineligible for a master’s degree from Harvard and must be content with one from Radcliffe College instead.  After she and William have been fired and set up home with Olive (Bella Heathcote), Elizabeth supports the household through secretarial jobs unworthy (so Robinson suggests) of her gifts while Olive cares for the Marston children.  Other than in the bedroom, William appears to contribute little to the family, beyond bright ideas as to what to turn his hand to post-Harvard.   Since none of these has borne fruit, Elizabeth’s scornful reaction to Wonder Woman – the latest bright idea – is understandable.

    Robinson’s admiration for the main characters as pioneers of sexual unorthodoxy makes for a different problem.  She recognises the kinky comedy of the trio’s sadomasochistic experiments and occasionally does it justice but she’s reluctant fully to embrace this funny side, for fear of undermining William, Elizabeth and Olive.  This often looks like a film in search of a visual style and the tone is uncertain:  it’s not surprising that Tom Howe, who wrote the music, seems to have been under the impression that he was scoring a straight-faced biopic.  One thing that doesn’t change in cinema, however right on the attitudes of the film-maker, is the casting of beautiful people in sexually significant roles.  The tendency is understandable and, to be honest, makes for a more agreeable viewing experience but it can be counterproductive too.  In the case of Professor Marston and the Wonder Women, it’s well before the obligatory closing photographs of the actual people involved that you suspect their dramatised counterparts are glamorised versions of them.  When the Marstons and Olive first get dressed up for dominance-and-submission role-play, it’s circa 1930 but Angela Robinson floods the soundtrack with Nina Simone singing Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley’s ‘Feeling Good’.  The anachronism of the music is compounded – and the impact of the sequence diluted – by what’s on screen.  The actors’ toned, modern look contradicts the idea that, to quote the ‘Feeling Good’ lyrics, ‘it’s a new world’ and that those sampling it are in bizarre terra incognita.

    The script sees Marston as both priapic and oddly innocent.  Luke Evans is very likeable but a little bland, and the innocence he suggests isn’t that of an absent-minded professor.  His characterisation  is thoughtful but Evans doesn’t project intelligence.  This feels wrong – even if we’re meant to think that Elizabeth has a more brilliant and original mind than William.  Marston’s mildly sexist badinage, as he lectures to a class of female students, elicits giggles from the girls, not, you feel, because they think the remarks suggestive but because their professor is a dreamboat.  The lavishly talented Rebecca Hall is more satisfying:  although she’s imposingly attractive, Hall makes Elizabeth a spiky bluestocking too.  There are moments, though, when the character’s situation and the actress’s seem to coincide – when what Hall is doing exposes the gulf between her abilities and the material she’s working with in an almost self-assertive way.  The beautiful Bella Heathcote is alert and expressive in her early scenes, touching later on:  it feels right that Olive gradually loses her bloom as she turns into a homemaker – albeit a homemaker extraordinaire.  The relationship between the two women seems more fully loving than the relationship either of them has with William.  There are good contributions in small roles from J J Feild, as the pioneering fetish merchant Charles Guyette, and Oliver Platt, as the comic-book publisher Max Gaines.

    The storytelling leaves a lot to be desired. The tentative direction deprives the narrative of momentum; as a result, it takes too long to get to the creation of Wonder Woman.  Robinson uses as a framework Marston’s appearance before a committee of the Child Study Association of America (CSAA).  The bulk of the story is technically a series of flashbacks from this interview but only technically:  the retrospection isn’t Marston’s – it’s just a way of dividing things up.  The CSAA is depicted (travestied?) here as a harsh moral watchdog, exercised by Marston’s provocative imagery and themes, concerned by their potentially pernicious effect on American youth.  But American youth appears already to have taken matters into its own hands:  at the start Robinson has shown Marston distressed to see children in his neighbourhood making a bonfire of Wonder Woman comics – before his grilling by the CSAA head Josette Frank.  (The casting of this character is an instance where an actor’s good looks make things more interesting.  It would have been so obvious to make Frank a frump:  as played by Connie Britton, she’s chic, as well as an incisive interrogator.)   As soon as Marston leaves the CSAA committee, he collapses with the illness that, in a few screen minutes’ time, will have proved fatal.  (Marston died of cancer.  Luke Evans is poorly served by the make-up department in the film’s 1947 scenes:  he doesn’t look much older or ill.)  Having hurriedly veered into standard biopic crisis territory, Angela Robinson stays there to effect an eleventh-hour reconciliation between the Marstons and Olive before William dies. (more…)

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