Long-time fans of the original GREY GARDENS documentary were probably pleased that this "movie" treatment of the subject would fill in some gaps in the back story of these two unique denizens of Eastern society -- "How did they get to this?" is the question that always comes to mind when watching the Maysles Brothers' astonishing 1975 chronicle. But I doubt that anyone was expecting a movie that spends close to 70% of its running time wallowing in the most boring fictionalized melodrama seen outside of network television in years and which relegates the fading divas of the dilapidated, Gothic ruin we so knew and loved (or hated, as the case may be) to an afterthought. This is the kind of TV movie one would expect to be assigned to the likes of Melissa Joan Hart and Loni Anderson (or, perhaps, Delta Burke!). And maybe the likes of them could have turned this into a fun wallow for 90 minutes or so, upping the camp value considerably.
The two lead actresses, of course, are the draw for everyone who watches this movie -- and they are each, to different degrees, disappointing. Collectively, though, they're a disaster. Jessica Lange comes closest, as Big Edie, to a convincing portrayal, since she builds her character from the inside out and doesn't depend on impersonation, but still falls short because she holds back (as has always been her habit as an actress), especially in the later scenes. "Less is more" is an invaluable guideline for actors, but sometimes you just have go a little bit more over the top, even toward the grotesque, when it depicts a character more accurately. Drew Barrymore, on the other hand, depends on constructing Little Edie from the outside in, and obviously didn't get to spend enough time in that skin to ever own it. You get to see the gears moving constantly -- Accent! Accent! Accent! -- but you never get to see the force of nature that was the real Little Edie. The biggest problem, of course, is that these two opposite approaches clash in every scene they're in together and the two stars don't appear to be acting in the same movie.
The depiction of Al and David Maysles as cardboard cutouts was just appalling, too. That two such walking pieces of cellophane could have come up with a documentary that was so full of passion and truth is incomprehensible.
It was fascinating to watch the "Making of" featurette that is included on the DVD release, which repeatedly alternates between scenes from the original documentary and scenes from the HBO movie. There were several times when I got lost as to whether I was looking at Jessica Lange or the real Big Edie -- the *demeanour*, especially when she was languishing in bed, was so similar. The same thing never happened with Barrymore and Little Edie. Whenever the real Little Edie appears on screen the energy level shoots up 10-fold. Her cat-like nervous attention, the intense gaze in her beady little eyes, those Kamikaze lurches at the camera -- none of those things were present in Barrymore's performance.
I gave the film a rating of three here, just to acknowledge the excellent production values -- the costumes, especially, were spectacular (and unusually accurate in the '40s and '50s scenes). But I'll watch the real Beales of East Hampton a dozen times again before I sit through this travesty a second time.
The two lead actresses, of course, are the draw for everyone who watches this movie -- and they are each, to different degrees, disappointing. Collectively, though, they're a disaster. Jessica Lange comes closest, as Big Edie, to a convincing portrayal, since she builds her character from the inside out and doesn't depend on impersonation, but still falls short because she holds back (as has always been her habit as an actress), especially in the later scenes. "Less is more" is an invaluable guideline for actors, but sometimes you just have go a little bit more over the top, even toward the grotesque, when it depicts a character more accurately. Drew Barrymore, on the other hand, depends on constructing Little Edie from the outside in, and obviously didn't get to spend enough time in that skin to ever own it. You get to see the gears moving constantly -- Accent! Accent! Accent! -- but you never get to see the force of nature that was the real Little Edie. The biggest problem, of course, is that these two opposite approaches clash in every scene they're in together and the two stars don't appear to be acting in the same movie.
The depiction of Al and David Maysles as cardboard cutouts was just appalling, too. That two such walking pieces of cellophane could have come up with a documentary that was so full of passion and truth is incomprehensible.
It was fascinating to watch the "Making of" featurette that is included on the DVD release, which repeatedly alternates between scenes from the original documentary and scenes from the HBO movie. There were several times when I got lost as to whether I was looking at Jessica Lange or the real Big Edie -- the *demeanour*, especially when she was languishing in bed, was so similar. The same thing never happened with Barrymore and Little Edie. Whenever the real Little Edie appears on screen the energy level shoots up 10-fold. Her cat-like nervous attention, the intense gaze in her beady little eyes, those Kamikaze lurches at the camera -- none of those things were present in Barrymore's performance.
I gave the film a rating of three here, just to acknowledge the excellent production values -- the costumes, especially, were spectacular (and unusually accurate in the '40s and '50s scenes). But I'll watch the real Beales of East Hampton a dozen times again before I sit through this travesty a second time.