Mommie Dearest is the cinematic retelling of Christine Crawford's excoriating autobiography in which she details the psychological and physical abuse she suffered from her mother, legendary Hollywood actress, Joan Crawford. In the film, Joan is played by Faye Dunaway, a role which is widely considered to have derailed her own Hollywood career. Although the film is supposedly based on Christine's story, its centrepiece is very much Joan herself. We witness her romantic dalliances, her battles to remain relevant in the film industry and, most memorably, her fits of ferocious insanity and cold manipulation towards her tormented adopted daughter, Christine (played by both Diana Scarwid and Mara Hobel). This involves seismic freakouts over the use of wire hangers, beatings, an attempt to choke an adolescent Christine to death over a perceived public embarrassment, and continual efforts at the forced feeding of rare meat. All the while, Christine is obligated to refer to her mother as "Mommie Dearest".
As a film which was apparently intended to be a hard-hitting investigation of the horrors of child abuse, this movie has a unique and surprising legacy. It is not recognised critically as a film of value; however, its cultural impact has been significant, particularly for those old enough to remember the controversy surrounding the film's release. As a result, discussions over the film tend to centre around the validity and ethics of its vicious portrayal of a Hollywood icon. Fascinatingly, given its subject matter, the movie has also become a camp classic in the mold of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, where audiences will attend in drag and chant key lines from the film in unison followed by unanimous, raucous laughter. Who ever knew that a film that exposed a celebrated figure as being a child-abuser could be such a hoot...
When it comes to analysing the reasons for the above reception, we could do worse than by turning our attention to the first scene. The main character is filmed from behind as she meticulously bathes her face in a bucket of cold ice before rubbing it with a concoction of steaming liquid potions. The camera is focused on filming her from behind and it only shows her from the neck down. The subject is thus eeriely depersonalised in a way which suggests horror undertones. Now this was no doubt intended to show the extreme dedication and the desperation of Joan's attempt to control every aspect about her, especially her looks, but the film-makers only seem to have one approach to their subject: exaggeration.
This approach continues for the rest of the film as we are exposed to a portrayal that is so dramatic, so manipulative, so unhinged that the character fully enters into the territory of horror villain. Joan is shown in scene after scene screaming, howling, beating, chopping, choking. She is depicted as a raging, spit-flecked psychopath, able to be triggered at the slightest perceived provocation: "NO WIRE HANGERS!" One particular scene shows her as capable of murder as poor Christine's life is almost choked into non-existence as a response to a fairly mild moment of defiance. In the words of the angelic looking child Christine, "For Christ's sake."
Due to such unrelenting exaggeration, the film is not centrally a dramatic portrayal of child abuse or any other social subject. It is, rather, both an intensely focused character study and an exploitationist piece of domestically-situated horror. Despite the views of many, I would argue that this is not due to Faye Dunaway's performance per se, but the way in which her performance is contextualised. When you see the first of Joan's dramatic explosions, it is pretty shocking. Joan is played as relatively composed during the film's initial scenes and the child Christine is essentially cuteness and vulnerability personified. Seeing Joan act so cruelly towards her, therefore, initially has the desired effect. The problem is that the entire focus of the film very quickly shifts to a presentation of undiluted rage and insanity, with the rest of the movie lifelessly punctuating the next histrionic detonation. No craft, ambition or skill is shown by anyone behind the camera in channelling what is, in my view, an exceptional central performance into a fully-developed and insightful narrative experience. After all, is Dunaway's performance, from an acting perspective, any more over-the-top than Robert De Niro's in Raging Bull (note the title here) or Gena Rowlands' in A Woman Under the Influence, or Daniel Day Lewis' in There Will Be Blood? Three cinematic performances that demonstrate unmistakable greatness. I would say no. The difference is that De Niro, Rowlands and Day Lewis' performances exist in a wider narrative which is rich, engaging and is able to ground the respective portrayals. Some people are psychotically unhinged, and Joan was played that way here. From a dramatic perspective, there is nothing wrong with that but the film needs to provide a context in which the performance can be meaningfully understood. If the entire rhythm and pulse of the film is based around a performance that is so intense, you risk going from dramatic character study to camp, scenery-chewing, unintentional laugh-fest.
However, as an appreciator of great acting performances, I can not allow Dunaway's efforts to go unnoticed here. She does not over-act, it is the films architecture which under-delivers. This is, actually, a remarkable feat of acting, and it's a great shame that it is now so often seen as hammy to the point of hilarity. Let's bear in mind, De Niro had Scorcese, Rowlands had Cassavetes and Day Lewis had PT Anderson. Who did Dunaway get? Frank Perry.
As I have no knowledge of Joan Crawford personally, I'll make no comment on the veracity of Dunaway's performance, although, artistically, I'm not sure that matters. I will say, though, that it is clear Dunaway reaches deep within herself to deliver something quite special here. She is intense as hell and completely committed to the madness, insecurity and deep sadness that must motivate the actions and reactions of someone as disturbing as the character we see onscreen. Dunaway does not strike any false notes, her conception is fully realised and has a depth and texture that is there to be felt by those who are able to appreciate it. As a showcase of the immense craft of one of the greatest cinematic actresses of all time, this film is actually a triumph. The fact is; however, Dunaway's performance would have been worthy of one of cinema's greatest dramatic tragedies. Instead it has been doomed to be unappreciated, or, perhaps even worse, contemptuously appreciated, in a film that is widely regarded as a farce.
7/10 (And all 7 of those points belong to Faye)
As a film which was apparently intended to be a hard-hitting investigation of the horrors of child abuse, this movie has a unique and surprising legacy. It is not recognised critically as a film of value; however, its cultural impact has been significant, particularly for those old enough to remember the controversy surrounding the film's release. As a result, discussions over the film tend to centre around the validity and ethics of its vicious portrayal of a Hollywood icon. Fascinatingly, given its subject matter, the movie has also become a camp classic in the mold of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, where audiences will attend in drag and chant key lines from the film in unison followed by unanimous, raucous laughter. Who ever knew that a film that exposed a celebrated figure as being a child-abuser could be such a hoot...
When it comes to analysing the reasons for the above reception, we could do worse than by turning our attention to the first scene. The main character is filmed from behind as she meticulously bathes her face in a bucket of cold ice before rubbing it with a concoction of steaming liquid potions. The camera is focused on filming her from behind and it only shows her from the neck down. The subject is thus eeriely depersonalised in a way which suggests horror undertones. Now this was no doubt intended to show the extreme dedication and the desperation of Joan's attempt to control every aspect about her, especially her looks, but the film-makers only seem to have one approach to their subject: exaggeration.
This approach continues for the rest of the film as we are exposed to a portrayal that is so dramatic, so manipulative, so unhinged that the character fully enters into the territory of horror villain. Joan is shown in scene after scene screaming, howling, beating, chopping, choking. She is depicted as a raging, spit-flecked psychopath, able to be triggered at the slightest perceived provocation: "NO WIRE HANGERS!" One particular scene shows her as capable of murder as poor Christine's life is almost choked into non-existence as a response to a fairly mild moment of defiance. In the words of the angelic looking child Christine, "For Christ's sake."
Due to such unrelenting exaggeration, the film is not centrally a dramatic portrayal of child abuse or any other social subject. It is, rather, both an intensely focused character study and an exploitationist piece of domestically-situated horror. Despite the views of many, I would argue that this is not due to Faye Dunaway's performance per se, but the way in which her performance is contextualised. When you see the first of Joan's dramatic explosions, it is pretty shocking. Joan is played as relatively composed during the film's initial scenes and the child Christine is essentially cuteness and vulnerability personified. Seeing Joan act so cruelly towards her, therefore, initially has the desired effect. The problem is that the entire focus of the film very quickly shifts to a presentation of undiluted rage and insanity, with the rest of the movie lifelessly punctuating the next histrionic detonation. No craft, ambition or skill is shown by anyone behind the camera in channelling what is, in my view, an exceptional central performance into a fully-developed and insightful narrative experience. After all, is Dunaway's performance, from an acting perspective, any more over-the-top than Robert De Niro's in Raging Bull (note the title here) or Gena Rowlands' in A Woman Under the Influence, or Daniel Day Lewis' in There Will Be Blood? Three cinematic performances that demonstrate unmistakable greatness. I would say no. The difference is that De Niro, Rowlands and Day Lewis' performances exist in a wider narrative which is rich, engaging and is able to ground the respective portrayals. Some people are psychotically unhinged, and Joan was played that way here. From a dramatic perspective, there is nothing wrong with that but the film needs to provide a context in which the performance can be meaningfully understood. If the entire rhythm and pulse of the film is based around a performance that is so intense, you risk going from dramatic character study to camp, scenery-chewing, unintentional laugh-fest.
However, as an appreciator of great acting performances, I can not allow Dunaway's efforts to go unnoticed here. She does not over-act, it is the films architecture which under-delivers. This is, actually, a remarkable feat of acting, and it's a great shame that it is now so often seen as hammy to the point of hilarity. Let's bear in mind, De Niro had Scorcese, Rowlands had Cassavetes and Day Lewis had PT Anderson. Who did Dunaway get? Frank Perry.
As I have no knowledge of Joan Crawford personally, I'll make no comment on the veracity of Dunaway's performance, although, artistically, I'm not sure that matters. I will say, though, that it is clear Dunaway reaches deep within herself to deliver something quite special here. She is intense as hell and completely committed to the madness, insecurity and deep sadness that must motivate the actions and reactions of someone as disturbing as the character we see onscreen. Dunaway does not strike any false notes, her conception is fully realised and has a depth and texture that is there to be felt by those who are able to appreciate it. As a showcase of the immense craft of one of the greatest cinematic actresses of all time, this film is actually a triumph. The fact is; however, Dunaway's performance would have been worthy of one of cinema's greatest dramatic tragedies. Instead it has been doomed to be unappreciated, or, perhaps even worse, contemptuously appreciated, in a film that is widely regarded as a farce.
7/10 (And all 7 of those points belong to Faye)