BAD GIRLS CLUB: CARROLL BAKER IN ‘SYLVIA’

 

You could easily say that I’m a Carroll Baker fan. I have yet to see everything she’s in but I’ve seen enough to consider myself a proud connoisseur of her work—especially after catching her in the 1964 Harold Robbins adaptation of THE CARPETBAGGERS which is long overdue to be spotlighted on this blog. But as for now, I’d like to focus on SYLVIA, a film she’s made a year later and one that equally deserves the spotlight.

 

The film begins when Baker’s just about to marry one of the wealthiest men in California, played by the still dashing Peter Lawford. Unbeknownst to her, however, her groom-to-be hires a private detective to do a background check. This investigator is none other than gay-closeted and former Playgirl centerfold George Maharis. Maharis goes back to her hometown and discovers that financially free (!) and talented poet Baker—she has a book published—holds a big secret that involves a heavy past. I won’t get into all that but if you enjoy sleaze and melodrama like I do you’ve certainly come to the right film.  Oh boy did you.

 

Yet surprisingly, underneath all that on-screen craziness hides a sensitive film worth noticing, mostly due to Baker’s strong performance as a lost soul. She succeeds in making Sylvia likable and, in return, generates some form of empathy which of course can only be a good thing. At least that’s how I felt when I watched the film—twice. As for Maharis, he’s fine as well—so is Paul Gilbert as a wisecracking drag queen (yes, a drag queen)—but it’s Baker who impresses the most. I admit, SYLVIA is not for everyone. It’s hard to watch at times and it’s probably why it got so panned by the critics but the overall delivery is quite fetching, in my opinion.

SYLVIA is based on a novel of the same name by best-selling author Howard Fast who used a pseudonym. Superstar Paul Newman was one time attached to the project but eventually opted put. The original director, David Miller (1960 MIDNIGHT LACE starring Doris Day), ended up being replaced by Gordon Douglas (the delightfully trashy CLAUDELLE INGLISH from 1961). So this leads to believe the film was a trouble shoot. Also, I remember reading somewhere that Baker threw a tantrum when she complained to deaf hears about the script, or something like that.

 

Despite of all of this, I think the film turns out better than its reputation makes it out to be. But hey, I’m the guy who thinks THE LONELY LADY is a great piece of art. In the end it comes down to what turns you on as a viewer but you’ll certainly be missing something if you fail to give SYLVIA a try.

 

Until next post—Martin

BAD GIRLS CLUB: ANGIE DICKINSON IN ‘JESSICA’

 

I remember seeing Angie Dickinson for the very first time on TVs POLICE WOMAN back when I was a little one. It played in re-runs daily. I never caught an entire episode (crime dramas never were my cup of tea) but I do recall telling myself how sexy this woman was. Fast forward to a couple of years later and there she was again in the Jackie Collins’ HOLLYWOOD WIVES miniseries on ABC. As you can imagine, that one I watched many times over, so it’s probably safer to say I know her from that TV event more than anything else. Since then I have caught her here and there in interviews, TV movies, even in the Brian DePalma film DRESSED TO KILL (which I saw on opening day many many years ago). She is a 90 year old recluse today.

 

She certainly is a sight for sore eyes in 1962 JESSICA, a light romantic comedy set in Italy. In it she plays an American widowed midwife who unknowingly creates havoc amongst the jealous women townsfolk, one of whom being TVs BEWITCHED Agnes Moorehead. Indeed, they are so much green with envy that they end up forming a plan to get rid of her by depriving their men of any sexual favors—no candy no baby, so no midwife, get it? Of course it all goes awry. Some women resist, some don’t. One ends up with a shiner, as does her husband. But the best part is following sweet and angelic but oh-so sexy Jessica as she ultimately gets some revenge time. You should see her going at it as she shows her curves while skinny dipping or riding her Vestra motorbike across the Sicilian village (with one of the women’s husband in tow at one time). My, the evil eye she gets... Maurice Chevalier is also in this, playing the town priest, who sings a tune and tries his best to match-up Jessica with the recluse handsome marchese Gabriele Ferzetti. We all know that it will eventually happen but half the fun is watching them get there.

Based on the novel The Midwife of Pont Clery by Flora Sandstrom, JESSICA is not the greatest film adaptation (which, BTW, is directed by Jean Negulesco who also gave us the classic THREE COINS IN THE FOUNTAIN and the similar Ann-Margret vehicle THE PLEASURE SEEKERS). It does tend to be too saccharinely-sweet despite the tawdry subject but Daniel F. Flapp’s cinematography of the Forza d’Agrò town (used also for 1974 THE GODFATHER) is quite impressive. And Miss Dickinson does try her best to make her character come alive which she does from time to time, but mostly she turns on the automatic pilot. All in all, JESSICA is mindless fun, a film that I would re-watch on a rainy Saturday afternoon while I’m doing the dishes or rearranging my drawers.

 

Until next post—Martin

 

BAD GIRLS CLUB: EVE PLUMB IN ‘DAWN: PORTRAIT OF A TEENAGE RUNAWAY’

 

By the time I discovered The Brady Bunch, the all-too-sweet comedy TV series featuring a widow with three girls who marries a widower with three boys it had already been cancelled. It was a few years after 1974 and I remember how I used to hurry home from school to catch the latest episode in rerun which aired weekdays at 4 in Canada right after reruns of One Day At A Time (a contender for a future blog entry, for sure). Of course I found the series to be so moralistic and silly but all I wanted was to connect with something that was the opposite of my miserable life (an alcoholic dad, a mean mom, a delinquent brother, a bullied school environment). And if I needed, say, Mike and Carol Brady and their squeakily clean kids to help me achieve this, then so be it.

 

When all America was going gaga for Marcia, Marcia, Marcia! I, on the other hand, had a soft spot for middle-child Jan. She had a thing about her that made me relate to her even more. It was probably the fact that she kept playing second fiddle to everyone, a bit like I felt all the time. Anyway, to make a long story short if I could have had one curl on each side of my face like she did (for a while anyway) I probably would have done so in a jiff. With my luck I would have looked more like a Rabi—a gay-bashed Rabi (!), mind you—but I sure would have felt even closer to that character.

 

So imagine my happiness when I happened to discover sweet insecure little Jan in a late night TV-movie a few months later. In it she played a hooker—yes a hooker. It was called DAWN: PORTRAIT OF A TEENAGE RUNAWAY (1976) and it told the tale of a 15 year-old who flees from her troubled home (like mine?) to end up on Hollywood boulevard where she meets sweet Alexander (played by Leigh McCloskey from TVs DALLAS) who unwillingly introduces her to prostitution. Alexander is also a fellow runaway who sells his body but (here’s the big kicker, especially in those days) to lonely or not-so-lonely middle aged men. Witnessing this part (though it is mostly if not totally suggested) was a first for me, since homosexuality was barely visible on TV during those days. Though it was viewed as a bad thing, the lost little guy in me was pretty satisfied being able to peek at a world far from his own yet still close enough to resonate with him.

 

When Dawn eventually breaks ties with prostitution (way to go, Jan!) it is mostly with the help of Alexander—with whom she has fallen in love.  She finally agrees to go back home after he promises to come back for her when he’s saved enough money, thus both moving on to ALEXANDER: THE OTHER SIDE OF DAWN, the TV-movie sequel, which aired a year later after the success of DAWN: PORTRAIT OF A TEENAGE RUNAWAY on NBC.

 

I saw both movies back to back that summer night in the late ‘70s. I wanted the story to continue on as a weekly series which, come to think of it, would have been entirely impossible on account of the heavy subject matter of the time. Yet I connected with these two characters and I spent the remaining year looking out for other TV plots resembling the Dawn and Alexander duo movies or something in the same vein. I found many like LITTLE LADIES OF THE NIGHT (1977), DIARY OF A TEENAGE HITCHHIKER (1979) BILLY: PORTRAIT OF A STREET KID (1975), I WANT TO KEEP MY BABY (1976), BORN INNOCENT (1974), CAGED WITHOUT A KEY (1975), SARAH T. - PORTRAIT OF A TEENAGE ALCOHOLIC (1975), THAT CERTAIN SUMMER (1972), NIGHTMARE IN BADHAM COUNTY (1976) which I already reviewed here. Most of these made-for-TV efforts sound like bad After School Specials but you’d be surprise at how effective some of them actually are. But that’s for another couple of blog entries. So stay tuned.

 

Until next post—Martin

 

BAD GIRLS CLUB: PIA ZADORA IN ‘FAKE-OUT’

 

After watching the delectable THE LONELY LADY in the mid-‘80s on VHS I made the solemn vow to catch anything that starred Pia Zadora. It scarcely mattered if it was a film, an album, an invitation to some talk show. As long as there was her name on it I was a happy trooper. That’s how I came to rent 1982 FAKE-OUT a year later. I remember being very excited at the prospect of finally seeing her in something else. BUTTERFLY was still on my bucket list so I was really looking forward to enjoying this one. Did I? Well, read on, my little cyber friends, read on.

 

The best thing about FAKE-OUT (aka NEVADA HEAT)—besides having the lovely Pia sing the opening Last Vegas number (‘Those Eyes’) in freeze-frame shots while clad in a Bob Mackie original—is the first 17 minutes when she ends up being thrown in the slammer after refusing to testify against her mobster boyfriend. There the viewer gets to see Pia take a shower; grind her leotard-clad booty while conducting an inmate aerobic class; get tough love via a girl on girl (suggested only) gang bang action. Can we say CHAINED HEAT part deux? Not so, sadly, for what follows is all happening outside the slammer where screwball comedy is king and playing cat and mouse is a prerequisite.

 

Indeed, Pia’s character ends up buying her way out of prison and spending part of the movie trying to sneak out of the casino hotel room where custody cops Telly Savalas and Desi Arnaz Jr. keep her while she waits to see the DA. Of course she’ll fail miserably while developing an attraction to Arnaz who ends up taking her away in a luxury yacht where they fall in love and ultimately get shot at before the final credits roll. The movie is about 90 minute long but boy does it seem endless. Wooden characters, cringed-worthy situations, clichés abound, FAKE-OUT feels more like a collection of silly vignettes than an actual movie. Pia tries her best but once out of jail nothing really makes her shine. Still, we get to see her a lot, with or without her lack of chemistry with love interest Desi Arnaz Jr. Oh and Savalas gets to play a Kojak-like type once again minus the lollipop. Suffice to say his on-screen presence barely helps matters, but since he was still a pseudo-hot commodity back then, what do I know? All in all, a very disjointed film that started promising but quickly crashed and burned due mainly to everything falling flat. Where’s Nomi Malone when we need her.

 

C0-written, produced, and directed by Matt Climber who gave us the much better BUTTERFLY—Pia’s first major role—the year prior, FAKE-OUT is the remake of LADY COCOA (1975) by the same director. It stars Vegas sensation Lola Falana. Supposedly it is not so good either. I will still catch it one day and let you know all about it. In the meantime go watch or re-watch THE LONELY LADY or BUTTERFLY instead. You’ll have a better time. Trust me. Unless you’re a Pia Zadora super fan, then, by all means indulge yourself. But you have been warned.

 

Until next post—Martin

BAD GIRLS CLUB: JOAN CRAWFORD IN ‘PAID’ (1930)

After gushing over WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE on-set rivalry in Shaun Considine’s BETTE AND JOAN: THE DIVINE FEUD in one of my last posts I found myself catching one of Crawford's early projects called PAID, which, come to think of it, is exactly what the audience should have gotten sitting through this hammy of a film. Indeed, released in 1930, this pre-code revenge flick is far from being Crawford’s silver screen glory but has just the right amount of craziness to render it quite tolerable if not delectable in a sordid campy way. Now, before you devoted Crawford fans go suddenly cray-cray on me, let me just quote a knife-wielding Nomi Malone on her way to Vegas in SHOWGIRLS: chill! It’s just a movie, a very silly movie.   

In it, Crawford plays Mary Turner, a down on her luck department store clerk who, after being accused of wrongly theft, is put in jail for three whole years. Her time there is presented, or should I say, represented, by a soapy doo-doo floating on the shower floor. Crawford, as the viewers, is disgusted by it, despite the nonchalance of a fellow black inmate who turns her way and says, ‘Don’t fret, honey, it all goes down the drain’. With revenge still on her mind, Crawford finally gets out and, with the help of a former fellow convict, schemes her way to the accuser’s turf and marries the man’s wealthy son. Of course, falling in love is never in her plans but she does, big time. You can see it just by the way she looks at actor Douglass Montgomery (Kent Montgomery for this film). Her big beautiful eyes are always sad and teary—or are they as such because she knows she is trapped in a mess of a film? Either way, she seems always tormented and oh-so torn.    

Cut to a major heist at the house of her tormentor that goes awry and the viewer is left again with a teary Crawford in a final confrontation at the DA’s office. It all plays out like a mediocre dinner theater where everyone howlers and screams, and unless you’re very attentive you will find yourself lost in the scene. One thing is certain, though, Crawford is spared the slammer this time and, still teary-eyed, is hurt and devastated by all that she had to endure. We would be too if we had to sit through this turkey once again. 

PAID is directed by Sam Wood who went on to helm 1939 GOODBYE MR CHIPS which earned him his first of many Academy Award nominations. He even wound up being uncredited for his work on the troubled GONE WITH THE WIND which ultimately went to Victor Fleming (though many were used). Judging by talent alone, it’s fair to say that he made a big leap after the release of PAID.  Yes, I may be a tad too harsh on this one, for I have seen worse films, but I expected more from what I’ve got. As you all know I’m a serious cinephile now. Oh, who am I kidding, I just wanted to see the supposedly Crawford’s five minute fight scene in the shower that was supposed to be a riot but shamelessly cut by the studio. Now, THAT would have elevated the film to an all-time high campfest. As is, I can only recommend it to die-hard Crawford fans.

Until next post—Martin

BAD GIRLS CLUB: PAZ DE LA HUERTA IN ‘NURSE 3D’

The instant I saw the hectic trailer for this movie I knew I was going to love it. I mean how can you not? Sexy nurses, girl on girl action, blood galore… All the right ingredients for a sexploitation treat, right, right!? Surely I’m not the only one who so dig this film. But it sure looks that way sometimes considering that NURSE 3D (2013) got panned by critics and moviegoers alike. For what it’s worth, I think NURSE 3D is the best thing to happen since the invention of SHOWGIRLS in 1995. So there you have it. 

The premise goes something like this: Paz de la Huerta is the curvaceous and dedicated nurse from a prestigious hospital somewhere in the States (Toronto, really). She has a penchant for hot female newbies and for sharp medical equipment. When she sets her eyes on newcomer Katrina Bowden at the beginning of the film and they party like animals in a hot club later on it not only results in a drug-fuelled sexual encounter with one another but kick starts a chain of deadly events that will probably make you hot and bothered as well. Indeed, before you can say FATAL ATTRACTION for lesbians, our sexy villain does her hardest to make Bowden her bitch. From slicing a guy’s peen to using a surgical saw to punish a sleazy doctor nothing seems to faze this broad (and all in 3D no less, but only in theaters, alas). Her performance is so over the top that even this spectator can’t resist her charms.  

Though it was a big bomb at the box office even with the great Kathleen Turner in a cameo NURSE 3D truly deserved a better fate.  It was such an enjoyable experience that I wouldn’t have minded watching another 30 minutes (from a less than a 1 hour and a half run). Of course if you’re a die-hard feminist I would recommend passing it up. All the nurses are sexy as hell and the plot is unsurprisingly very demeaning to women (it is written, directed and produced by men). You really have to leave your brain at the door to even enjoy a pinch of it. Since I often do when I’m surrounded by these types of flick, I can clearly attest that not only NURSE 3D is bad twisted fun but has enough of slick production values and nonstop action sequences to render it one of the better films I have come across lately. Definitely cult classic material.  Still not convinced? Just give it a chance and you’ll see what I’m talking about. If you have already and was little impressed, re-watch it, I’m sure you’ll come to your senses.  

For a while there was a rumor going on that a sequel was in the works, perpetuated by Paz de la Huerta herself. But she has then moved on to other projects while suing the producers for having cost her any credibility as an actress after the release of the film, so I doubt any follow-up will see the light of day; a shame, for I really wanted this to happen. Since I am forever waiting for Elizabeth Berkley to reprise her iconic role in a SHOWGIRLS sequel, I will still hold on to the dream of it happening. Besides, you never know what the future holds. Right, John Travolta, Shirley MacLaine, Sigourney Weaver?

Until next post—Martin

BAD GIRLS CLUB: ANN-MARGRET IN 'THE SWINGER' (1966)

Let’s get right down to business: Ann-Margret is a knockout in the delectably awful THE SWINGER which reunites Margret and her BYE BYE BIRDY director George Sidney. In it she plays an inspiring writer who will do anything—and I mean anything (except that)—to get published, that is when she’s not dancing her tush away in a commune which also inhabits a vice squad officer/wannabe artist or sitting on a swing while belting out the catchy title song à la, well, BYE BYE BIRDY. Lured you into seeing this gem yet? Good. ‘Cause everything in THE SWINGER is très wacko, from the lurid voice-over narration that describes the sexual goings-on of a Playboy-like magazine owner, to the many sultry scenes of supposed decadence that Margret’s puritan character tries her hardest to emulate. 

In fact, THE SWINGER is at its best when it goes all the way into smut zone. Of course the film would never had been made today on account of all the real sexual misconduct scandals happening lately. But for the benefit of the era in which the film was made, let’s just say that the male libido is as highlighted and glossed over as a hooker in a limousine. And looking at this fetching fiasco it sure ain’t a bad thing, believe you me.  

As I said, THE SWINGER is really good when the focus is on sex and sin, and that’s about half of the story. The rest of the film is quite silly as Margret—pretending to be bad so Anthony Franciosa (from THE PLEASURE SEEKERS fame which also stars Margret) subsequently publish her tawdry story based faultily on herself—ends up becoming clay to Franciosa’s Pygmalion ways. There’s no question the two leads eventually become an item. So we just go by the cinematic flow of seeing them doing their thing while wondering if the film could have been better had the sexual performances of the female star been the sole focus (which in a way it still is since Margret is sex on a stick). As the song and dance go, Margret once again shines in her vocals and moves, especially the go-go line dancing early on in the story. 

I first saw this film in the late ‘80s, having caught it one rainy afternoon on TV. I was already a big trashy film buff and had heard that this one was as wacked as it could possibly be. So true it was, and still is considering the topic for a ‘60s film. Sure, it’s no VALLEY OF THE DOLLS but the fun is still palpable enough to grant THE SWINGER two thumbs-up. It may not be as perfect as I thought it’d be but it still deserves its spot as a must-see for camp classic devotees. It has yet to conquer the DVD/Blu-ray market but when it does I sure am going to purchase myself a copy. Until then, I will keep hold of my used VHS copy transferred to a disc.

Until next post—Martin

BAD GIRLS CLUB: GINA LOLLOBRIGIDA IN ‘GO NAKED IN THE WORLD’

I’m always a sucker for bad girls in cinema. Give me a Neely O’Hara, a Nomi Malone, heck even a Bette Davis in an awful wig (BEYOND THE FOREST) and I’ll be your film buff for life. It’s no wonder that I fell for Gina Lollobrigida’s character in the delectably bad GO NAKED IN THE WORLD distributed by MGM in 1961. In it she plays Guilietta, a high-priced call girl who loves swinging her curvy derrière and hanging out in hippie joints. When she gets stood up by an old coot one evening she meets handsome Anthony Franciosa who has no idea that she’s a lady of the night. Strange, for you take one look at her and you connect the dots quite easily. But I digress.

When the script calls for them to fall madly in love, loud papa Ernest Borgnine hits the roof and with good reasons. He’s had her many times over, so did his friends and associates. To paraphrase Elizabeth Taylor’s character in the award winning (!) but rival BUTTERFIELD 8 (another MGM film), she’s the slut of all time. When he reveals this to Franciosa, sonny-boy cries liar but soon learns the truth and quickly ends the relationship with Lollobrigida. Miserable as any manly man of the ‘60s can be, he drowns his sorrow in cheap booze and hotels until he decides to face his problem head on. So he kills his dad. No, just kidding, but it’s not that farfetched of an idea since their relationship can only be described as very volatile. Son wants to be his own person, dad wants him to be more like him...

Like I said, Franciosa sobers up.  He soon rekindles his relationship with Lollobrigida (he’s in LOVE, people). Before she quits the business she warns him how hard it’ll be for him to get used to the idea of her past life. He acts as if it’s nothing at all but we the spectators know better. Our hunch is quickly confirmed when loud papa shows up in Acapulco where the two have moved to start anew. He bribes Lollobrigida to stay away from his son. She refuses but quickly changes her tune when she realises that, hooking or not, she will always be trouble for Franciosa. So she kills him. Nah, she instead pretends to go back to her old ways. This is the best part of the film. She flirts, she drinks, she dances (she even gets gang-raped off camera) all in the space of a few minutes while Franciosa looks like a kicked dog. Later on, unable to live with herself any longer and all clad in white (wouldn’t you know? repentance), she throws herself into the ocean to forever be with her maker. Anyway, so ends her misery and ours who are this close from running screaming from the room.

GO NAKED IN THE WORLD is based on the Tom T. Chamale’s novel and directed by MILDRED PIERCE screenwriter Ranald McDougall (helped by non-credited Charles Walters). As much as I enjoyed the film, I came away from it with a splitting headache. I blame this mostly on Borgnine’s constant shouting which made me lower the volume on my remote and put on the close captioned. Bombshell Lollobrigida may have top billing for this but it’s Franciosa who carries the film, which is a shame since the whole reason to catch this flick is to see her in action.  In fact, she should have put her foot down and convince the high rollers to use her more, like any good sleazy chicks in high-budget films should. Just ask any other celluloid bad girls, Stanwyck, Davis, Taylor. THEY knew how to make the most of it. Judging by the shaking of her bonbon in that next to last scene of the film, I’m sure Lollobrigida could have succeeded just as well. Nonetheless, give this film a try. It has its moments.

 

 

Until next post—Martin

  

 

 

 

 

BAD GIRLS CLUB: BETTE DAVIS IN 'BEYOND THE FOREST' (1949)

Ever since I heard how awfully  wonderful 1949 BEYOND THE FOREST was I made my life mission to track it down.  But alas the journey to there has been far from easy since the DVD version of the film is MIA in North America; something to do with rights or some legal crap.   Anyway, to make a long story shorter, after years of coming up short I finally got my hands on a copy.  How?  I will never tell. ‘Cause if I do, I’d have to kill you.  And I would have none of that.  You guys mean too much to me.  But let just say that the find was unexpected and so worth it.   

The film stars the great Bette Davis.  In it she plays a restless aging small town doctor’s wife who sports not only a Morticia Adams black wig but has an Alexis Carrington bitchiness about her that makes you smile a lot.  Chewing the scenery whenever she can, she struts her tush aplenty, uttering kitschy lines like the infamous “what a dump” (regarding her modest house) to her amorous but impoverished hubby Joseph Cotton who mostly ignores her antics.  And just like Alexis, she uses her charms and cunning ways to get what she wants, most noticeably when hooking up with city-based business man Neil Latimer who promises her the world.  But when he doesn’t hold his end of the bargain Davis is humiliated and forced to settle back to a life she hates. 

When she is expecting a child from her husband later on and on the verge of accepting her fate as a small-town citizen, Latimer reappears and announces that he wants her after all. Enthusiastic to say the least, Davis plans an escape route that involves the murder of her hubby’s BFF who wants to throw her under the bus; a quick trial; a self-imposed miscarriage by jumping over an embankment; and a trudge toward an awaiting train that ends up being one of the longest scenes in movie history.  In between you get an overall keen eye from director King Vidor, a wonderful score from famed composer Max Steiner (GONE WITH THE WIND), a definitive film noir look from Hitchcock’s fave cinematographer Robert Burks, and plenty of over the top moments from la Bette. 

Rumor has it that Davis was contractedly forced to make BEYOND THE FOREST and that she was less than a happy trooper.  Fights with the director and producers led to an unhappy set.  Still despite her overblown performance she manages to be quite effective as a long in the tooth crazed vixen.  The novel on which the film is based depicts the character to be much younger, but Davis makes it her own and gives the film an interesting twist.  There are times when you can almost feel her desperation.  Far from being perfect, BEYOND THE FOREST is certainly enjoyable.  This portrait of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown will leave no one unfazed—whether you like your films campy or not.

Until next post—Martin

BAD GIRLS CLUB: MAGGIE SMITH IN 'THE PRIME OF MISS JEAN BRODIE' (1969)

 

 

This British film, based on the work by novelist Muriel Spark, has always been a favorite of mine. I could never pass up the chance of seeing it every time it aired on the small screen, which was every year on the dot. It was when VCRs or DVDs were things of the future.  I know it’s hard for some of you to imagine but life did exist without those electrical apparels.  I was around 10 when the film first caught my eye.  I was probably with my mom who had a thing for old movies as well.  She would sit with me in the den, all snuggled up in her favorite chair with a bowl of candies and a pack of cigarettes by her side, and not say a word until the movie was done.  Of course my stupid older brother of two years would always come in and ruin everything by yapping and yapping.  But my mom would shush him on the spot, and for some reasons it always made me happy.  Call it sibling rivalry but at that exact moment I deeply felt that we were a team my mother and I, that no one—including my brother—could enter our little fortress.  Too bad it didn’t last…  But on to THE PRIME OF MISS JEAN BRODIE. 

In it the fabulous Maggie Smith plays the title role, a sophisticated, headstrong if overly romantic teacher who prides herself in developing the minds of her all-girl students at this uppity private school during the 1930s. Walking to the beat of her own drum, she easily ditches school curriculums in favor of her personal life through arts and travels while zeroing in on four young promising students whom she nicknames her Brodie Girls. Two of them eventually take center stage, one (Pamela Franklin) becoming the mistress of the married with children art teacher who still has the hots for old flame Brodie; the other (Jane Carr) idealizing Brodie to the point of being lured by her into fighting for the Spanish Civil War and getting killed in a train on her way there.  Of course, there is a lot more going on before we even get to that, but witnessing this energetic foursome growing up from innocent school girls to sophisticated young women was to this budding ten year old gay boy the highlight of the film.   

As I was watching it the other day, it suddenly dawned on me just how much the film reminds me of the 1984 miniseries LACE which is also based on a novel (by Shirley Conran). You know, silly school girls talking about boys, marriage and sex… There’s even the same breakfast bit in the school dining room/auditorium, with the belting of the school song before the principal delivers a speech… Not that THE PRIME OF MISS BRODIE is anything like LACE.  I mean, this is serious drama.  But still it makes me wonder if the miniseries did try to pay some sort of homage to the film. I wouldn’t be surprised if it did, given that the movie was already a classic, having earned Maggie Smith her first Oscar as best actress in a leading role. 

Why include Smith’s character into the sleazy world of the bad girls club then? Simple, because underneath Brodie’s snotty exterior exists a wild cat who isn’t afraid of stirring the pot, like sending an innocent girl to her death (“Assassin!”). In the TV hit ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK, she would be the leader of the pack, the one the inmates avoid at all cost.  She would cut a bitch just like that, while reciting poetry and banging the prison guard. Yes, Miss Jean Brodie is one bad ass chick. Too bad they never made a sequel to the film. You know, Miss Brodie, past her prime, becoming a nun and running a convent where’s there’s this black singer on the run...  Huh wait.  

Anyway, add THE PRIME OF MISS JEAN BRODIE to your must-see list, especially if you’re a LACE fan.  There’s no “Which one of you bitches is my mother?” type of a scene but there’s plenty other form of scandals that will quench your thirst for the melodrama.

 

Until next post--Martin