Review #1,410: 'All That Heaven Allows' (1955)

German-born film maker Douglas Sirk grew up watching the ground-breaking expressionist films his country pioneered in the 20's and 30's, when movies like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Nosferatu were making full use of shadow techniques and angular sets that were as wonderfully warped as the minds of their characters. After fleeing the Nazis with his Jewish wife, Sirk - born Hans Detlef Sierck - worked in Europe before arriving in Hollywood, where he would ultimately become remembered for his ravishing melodramas. One of his most popular, All That Heaven Allows, saw Sirk fully embracing the expressionist pictures of his birth country, adapting these techniques for 1950's Americana, and employing them to expose the ugly underbelly of a Technicolor world he would make equally as beautiful.

The middle-aged Cary Scott (Jane Wyman) is still trying to make sense of life after the death of her husband. Her children, who insist she purchases a television to fill up her spare time, are all grown up and pursuing careers of their own, while her friends at the stuffy country club seem unhealthily invested in finding her a new husband. There's no shortage of men lining up to declare their interest, but the only man to truly catch her eye is the dashing Ron Kirby (Rock Hudson), the gardener who tends to the neighbourhood's shrubs and bushes. He's certainly handsome and charming enough, but Ron is below Cary's social status, favouring a care-free life with close companions and building whatever he needs with his own hands. This doesn't bother Cary, and if anything is the reason she falls completely in love with him. But everybody around her takes offence at a widow shacking up with a younger man, and look down their noses at a man who doesn't fit in with their ideal social balance.

Wyman is superb as a woman who knows her heart's desire, but hesitates at the idea of upsetting those holding up the foundations of a privileged life. It isn't that she doesn't want to leave a life of dull conversations and social gossip - on the contrary she is profoundly bored with it - but it's all that she knows. Having been ushered into this world by her late husband, the thought of a life without assurances is simply terrifying. Her own children even turn their backs at the thought of a younger man seducing their mother, and see Ron as a threat to their inheritance. Sirk brings this conflict to life with lashings of vivid reds and blues, reflecting both mood and temperament, as Cary desperately struggles to contain the waves of uproar lapping through her community. As the gossips bicker and the older single men puff out their chests, Sirk dissects the seemingly harmonious and postcard-perfect family unit of the Eisenhower-era, and finds an ugly heart beating beneath. It's the kind of thing David Lynch would explore more overtly a couple of decades later, employing the same soap-opera sheen as Sirk does here to give the world an even more vacuous feel. All That Heavens Allows is also a gorgeous and engrossing love story, lending joy to what is otherwise a damning social commentary.


Directed by: Douglas Sirk
Starring: Jane Wyman, Rock Hudson, Agnes Moorehead, Conrad Nagel, Virginia Grey, Gloria Talbott, William Reynolds
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #43: 'Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte' (1964)

In 1962, when the careers of acting heavyweights such as Bette Davis, Joan Crawford and Olivia De Havilland were beginning to subside as the years took their toll, director Robert Aldrich directed Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?, a story of sibling jealousy and sadism that saw Davis and Crawford go head to head. The film was notorious not only for it's brilliance, but for it's genuine rivalry between the film's two leads. The film was a success, and unwittingly gave birth to a new genre that has since become known as 'hagspolitation' or 'psycho-biddy thrillers', a splurge of films that usually portrayed a psychotic older woman played by a 1940-50's superstar. Davis and Crawford were the key players in the sub-genre, and they were both cast by Altman in his next film, Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte, only for Crawford to drop out due to 'illness', when in reality it was because she just couldn't take Davis' bullying and general nasty behaviour. She was replaced by De Havilland, and although the film doesn't come near to capturing the greatness of Baby Jane, it is still a nice little shocker.

Beginning with a shocking murder that sees a married man who is having an affair with Charlotte (Davis) have his arm and head hacked off with a huge cleaver, the film jumps forward four decades, where the ageing Charlotte lives alone in her giant mansion that is being torn down by city developers. Haunted by the murder of her former lover (for which she may or may not have been the culprit), Charlotte is losing her mind when her cousin Miriam (De Havilland) comes to stay to try and convince her to leave before she is arrested by the developers for failing to leave her home. What follows is Charlotte's fast decent into insanity, but is she being played and manipulated by people after her vast fortune?

The film is a solid horror film with some genuine shocks and extreme gore for its day. Of course, the ever-reliable Bette Davis is superb as the squeaky-voice southern gal seemingly with the mind of an infant. Although the film works well as both a Southern gothic horror and as a thriller, the film doesn't have the intensity to last out the 2 hours and 15 minute running time and slightly outstays his welcome. But their is solid support from Joseph Cotten, an actor who has never been recognised enough for his excellent body of work, and Agnes Moorehead, another main player in the genre.


Directed by: Robert Aldrich
Starring: Bette Davis, Olivia De Havilland, Joseph Cotten, Agnes Moorehead
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie