|
 |
Far From Heaven (2002) Focus
Features, 1 hr. 47 mins.
Starring:
Julianne Moore, Dennis Quaid, Dennis Haysbert, Partricia Clarkson, Viola
Davis, James Rebhorn, Cecilia Weston
Directed by:
Todd Hayes |
|
Filmmaker Douglas Sirk was clearly
one of the main masterminds behind the Golden Age of social awareness
melodramas that graced the big screen back in the heyday of the 1950’s.
With prototypical popular Sirkian fare such as All That Heaven Allows and
Imitation of Life, the noted moviemaker has demonstrated a prowess for
cultivating reflective albeit borderline saccharine-coated dramas that
dare to take on the elements of social class, infidelity, race relations
and personalized isolation. Well, writer-director Todd Haynes (Safe) pays
a special kind of homage to Sirk’s brand of filmmaking by coughing up a
tangy tearjerker that resonates with startling relevance in the engaging
film Far From Heaven.
Haynes does a marvelous job in presenting the taboo of forbidden love and
racial tension set to the background of a repressed Eisenhower era during
the seemingly innocuous age of whitebread suburban America. Far From
Heaven is a welcomed throwback to highly recognized lily-white idealism
being threatened by something that appears so radical and subversive in
context. Despite the hint of preachy platitudes and the obvious hostility
regarding the questioned value system of colorblind love and devotion,
Haynes’ narrative is very indicative of the brimming and resentful
rhetoric that echoed an American fragile society pre-Civil Rights Movement
of the turmoil 1960’s. This movie is very peculiar in its provocative
state of mind and effectively blends the subtlety of a camp-ridden
showcase with that of a probing fable displaying a shambled humanity that
may never see any resolution because of divisive mindsets.
This inherent commentary on what amounts to be an idyllic and tranquil
lifestyle in suburbia takes place in Hartford, Connecticut circa 1957.
We’re introduced to a devoted housewife and mother Cathy Whitaker
(Julianne Moore). Cathy seems to have everything in tow that would make
the likes of June Clever and Harriet Nelson blush with envy. She’s married
to Frank (Dennis Quaid), a successful businessman working in TV sales for
the profitable Magnatech Company and is motherly to two adorable
offspring. In fact, both Cathy and Frank are thought of as the desired duo
since they epitomize the “ultimate upper-middle-class” power couple.
So how can anybody argue with the so-called perfection of the Whitakers?
After all, breadwinner Frank brings home the bacon after working his tail
off while cheery Cathy does her domestic duties and is perceived as a
tolerable soul (we find out that Cathy, among her persona as a “saintly”
liberal-minded individual with a conscience, has a fondness and respect
for “Negroes” to the point that she supports NAACP activity). Again, all
seems quite calming and in order at the Whitaker household. Or is this
really a put-on?
Apparently, it seems that the Whitakers are certainly dysfunctional in the
way they are portraying their sham of a marriage. Much like a vulnerable
cookie about to hit the hardwood floor, everything starts to crumble.
Hence, Cathy and Frank are simply all about putting on appearances and
saving face. Their marital communication has eroded as much as their sex
life has. Cathy sits there very uncomfortably as she listens to her
garrulous ladies club discuss their potent sexual practices while
gossiping about whatever else comes to mind. It’s safe to say that Cathy
is in somewhat of a denial stage about her shaky relationship with her
boozehound hubby Frank; she doesn’t want to face facts that her union with
her conflicted significant other is fading fast. But being in such a
high-minded surrounding where you’re viewed upon as the chosen classy
couple of a non-penetrating and desired utopia, one would easily avoid the
embarrassment and humiliation and succumb to the “fantasy” of a convenient
façade. And Cathy Whitaker, sad to say, is that particular person.
So Cathy makes some shady sacrifices in order to preserve her dignity and
shield her privatized agony from the rest of the judgmental world. When
Frank is as drunk as a skunk and has to be picked up, Cathy quietly does
this task without hesitation. When Frank is awkwardly caught cheating with
another man at the office inadvertently by Cathy, she settles for
discreetly sending him off to see a psychotherapist (James Rebhorn) about
his emerging homosexuality. And when Frank strikes Cathy in one of his
drunken rages, Cathy has no choice but to look the other way and pass it
off as one of Frank’s compulsive tics that he cannot help to control. The
question remains: what is Cathy to do in this tricky situation? How can
she leave the unpredictable Frank? He’s the man of the household and the
father of her kids. He’s her main financial support system. And God forbid
what should happen if her catty colleagues, especially her best friend
Eleanor (Patricia Clarkson), find out about her ridiculously dire
circumstances?
Enter Raymond Deagan (Dennis Haysbert, Love Field and TV’s 24), Cathy’s
handsome and humble black gardener. Raymond is a soft-spoken and
articulate man with a good-natured personality and introspective
philosophy. He’s also a widower trying to raise his teenaged daughter in
peace. Anyhow, it’s understandable how a tortured and lost Cathy can find
comfort in the well-rounded elegance of the keenly observant Raymond.
After all “colored” Raymond is every bit the secure and stable man that
her white and wounded husband Frank is not.
Because Raymond is so sensitive and attentive to Cathy’s emotional needs,
she trusts him enough to risk being seen with him in company. Cathy hasn’t
had the reinforcement she desperately needed from a caring man in such a
long time and it’s evident that Raymond is filling that void admirably.
Eventually word gets out that blasphemous Cathy is doing the unthinkable
by audaciously parading herself around town with that proud black stud
with the refined exterior. How unbecoming of an anointed treasured white
queen to stoop so low as to mingle with “that kind of low grade element”
in that of the perceived inferior black court jester Raymond!
In the meanwhile as Cathy is seeking refuge with an unlikely (but
formidable) soulmate that is the thought-provoking and dignified Raymond,
her drunken spouse Frank is still quite indifferent both sexually and
spiritually as he continues to cruise the underground gay bars without any
regard to his wife’s needs or feelings. Soon, Raymond pays a dear price
for flaunting around his white galpal Cathy when his daughter is attacked
by ignorant and racist riff raff. Also, his property is disturbed and now
Raymond must face the consequences of his misguided actions for daring to
lend a shoulder for the delicate and distraught Miss Cathy to cry on.
Far From Heaven touches upon the right overtones and diligently executes
its story with the right strokes that made Sirk’s rousing cinematic
expositions so potently effective and wry in the mid to late 1950’s.
Haynes does a fantastic job in conveying the constrictive sentiments of
that time by showing how close-minded and cautionary people were in that
place in history. The movie does a marvelous job balancing the paranoia of
an alternative sexual orientation and racial toleration and using these
combative tools to dictate one’s own tolerance level. What’s so appealing
about Haynes’ nostalgic ode to social strife regarding homosexuality and
the interracial agenda is that things have not changed that much in fifty
years. Consequently, there’s still some wincing reaction that remains so
vehemently aghast in the minds of the masses. But applying these hot
button topics to a landscape where conservatism, bobby socks and malt
shops were the defining and raving norm seems like a shrewd and revealing
move.
The performances are effortlessly riveting from a cast of players who
typify the frustration and sense of compelling curiosity that helped shape
their multi-layered characterizations. Two-time Academy Award nominee
Moore shows just why she is one of this generation’s most resilient and
viable actresses working in the movies today. She brings out the
convincing angst and ambivalence that bombards her alter ego Cathy
Whitaker who’s handcuffed by her limited functioning as a trapped suburban
housewife in quiet peril. Ironically, her embracing of the suburbanite
limelight is in fact her own prison in the making. Haysbert is riveting
and exudes a courageous combination of self-control and an unexplainable
malaise because his very own self-contained incarceration is decidedly
more explosive as a well-spoken black man at odds with an unwarranted
label from clueless observers that pinpoints him as threatening and
insignificant. Clearly, this is definitely to the contrary whether his
deranged detractors want to believe this ridiculous belief or not.
If anything, Far From Heaven is a showcase that loves to test the
conformity of what we all supposedly should adhere to and challenges us as
human beings to go against the grain even though the societal pressure
dictates differently. Importantly, the movie’s message is that you have to
be true to yourself and the personal convictions that will ultimately
determine your self-worth and self-fulfillment. Profoundly moving,
impeccably produced and stylishly stirring, Far From Heaven is inspired
and perceptively fearless. |
