HEDDA 1975

When I think of Brut men's cologne, I think of the '70s. Whenever I consider Brut cologne and the '70s, Burt Reynolds comes to mind. The Burt Reynolds of the '70s—complete with his porn-stache, tight pants, and swaggering, smirkily hirsute machismo—always seemed to me like someone who smelled of Brut.

I have no way of knowing whether Reynolds actually wore Brut, but it must have been the favorite fragrance of many men in the '70s because, for a brief time during that decade, Faberge Cosmetics (the makers of Brut) was doing well enough to get into the movie business. It makes me smile to think that such an overripe aftershave was responsible for one of my all-time favorite Glenda Jackson films: Hedda.

This big-screen adaptation of Henrik Ibsen's 1890 play Hedda Gabler is based on the 1975 Royal Shakespeare Company stage production and translation. Trevor Nunn directed both productions, and most of the theatrical cast has been retained for the film.

Being a fellow of a somewhat dreamy nature myself, I am drawn to narratives featuring protagonists whose lives are driven (and sometimes undone) by their idealism. Like Flaubert's Madame Bovary or Clyde Griffiths in Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy, Hedda Gabler is a romantic fantasist discontented with her life, yet plagued by fear of the risks--moral and societal--attendant to breaking free of the constraints of convention. 

Hedda, who believes herself to be a realist in all matters, would surely balk at being labeled a fantasist. Yet, it is precisely Hedda's failure to recognize her ideals (imagining her ex-lover "with vine leaves in his hair") and her failure to actively pursue a life with more options than those available to women in 1890s Norway that lies at the core of her restless dissatisfaction. 

The particular malady plaguing Hedda Gabler is referenced in the timeless lyrics of the theme song to TV's The Facts of Life (of all places): "When the world never seems to be living up to your dreams"  (bet you never thought you'd live to see The Facts of Life worked into an essay on Ibsen). Or perhaps it could be found in the disillusioned ennui of Peggy Lee's song "Is That All There Is?"  In either event, what's clear is that Hedda's romantic and heroic ideals contrast so sharply with her reality that she convinces herself that her happiness lies in the suppression of them. Yet they persist. Especially when they're rekindled by the reappearance of a figure from her past. 

The happy couple returns from their honeymoon 

The irony at the center of Hedda's situation is that the principal barrier to her happiness resides within herself. But by being reluctant to confront the true source of her dissatisfaction (her own cowardice), Hedda's self-resentment and repression of her desires (freedom) has no outlet but to express itself in increasingly embittered, manipulative, and harmful ways. It's a profound character flaw that leads to an irreversible betrayal and a profound personal tragedy. 

Glenda Jackson as Hedda Gabler

Peter Eyre as Hedda's ineffectual scholar husband, George Tesman

Patrick Stewart (with LOTS of hair) as old flame, Ejlert Lovborg

Jennie Linden (Jackson's Women in Love co-star) as rival, Thea Elvsted

Timothy West as the lascivious Judge Brack

The other tragedy within Hedda is that Hedda's "romantic idealism" is not romantic at all, at least not in the traditional sense ascribed to women. Hedda's ideals are almost masculine in nature, as they are a longing for independence, control of one's fate, and indulgence in a degree of sexual curiosity. Each of which she is rather terrified of flouting convention to pursue. What Hedda does have (made clear to us at the start of the film when we learn she is returning to a new home with her new husband after a prolonged honeymoon journey) is all that is assumed any woman could wish for: beauty, social standing, a loving husband, an opulent home, and possibly a child on the way. In short, the romantic ideal. The tragedy of Hedda's life is that all of this bores her to madness.

Hedda - desperately bored...again

Hedda's fruitless longing for the independence and power she doesn't possess often leaves her the resentful audience or seething observer of those who do. Bristling at the constraints of her life, she's like a pressure cooker. 

Hedda attempts to wedge herself between a rival and a former suitor

"For once in my life, I want to have power over somebody's fate."

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM
Who among us hasn't, at one time or another, felt the frustration of living a life we perceive as growing increasingly short of options as we age? It's easy to feel trapped and imprisoned by the choices one's made if the propensity is to look outside of oneself, failing to recognize that change is possible only through introspection and a level of direct action (courage) necessary to enact change. Hedda dramatizes the fact that it is not usually external limitations that torment us, but rather the bars and prison walls we construct in our minds born of fear and selfishness.
Hedda is forever going on about how bored she is and how limited are her life's prospects; yet, by way of contrast, we observe that her friend & rival, the meek Thea Elvsted is, in turning her back on social convention and abandoning her concern for what others think of her (terrifyingly unimaginable to Hedda), infinitely braver (and freer) than Hedda could ever hope to be.

General Gabler's Pistols
Hedda's masculine longing for independence is phallically represented
by the firearms she must keep under lock and key

PERFORMANCES
I have always been crazy about Glenda Jackson. Several years ago, I had the opportunity to see Jackson in a Los Angeles theatrical production of Edward Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. To my great shock and dismay, I thought she was rather awful in it. Admirably, I suppose, she took the character of Martha to a place less traditionally bellicose, and for me, it just seemed flat. Quite a shock, given that, in my opinion, few actresses are as electrifying onscreen. As Hedda Gabler, Jackson commands the screen like a champ and never relinquishes it for a second. 

Like the stars of yesterday (Davis, Hepburn, Crawford), Jackson makes you watch her and rewards your attention with a layered characterization that makes this oft-performed role seem wholly new and revelatory. Hers is a cunning performance of wit and subtlety that makes the deeply neurotic heroine both frightening and touching (and rather funny).
Jackson, already a two-time Academy Award winner for Best Actress, received her fourth (and final) Oscar nomination for Hedda.  But of course, as Maggie Smith so hilariously pointed out in the 1977 comedy, California Suite, "...she's nominated every goddamned year!"

Hedda: "I think I'll burn your hair off after all!"

THE STUFF OF FANTASY
I love how the film is shot in sumptuous gold-brown tones, which emphasize Hedda's image of herself as a creature trapped in a gilded cage. This theme is further promoted in the elaborate & constrictive women's clothing of the time and in the overtly ornate trappings of her smotheringly cluttered home. Scene after scene ends with Hedda clenching her fists or fairly trembling with rage as she fails to find any avenue of escape from a world intent on closing in around her.

Trapped

THE STUFF OF DREAMS
In the 1955 film, The Seven-Year Itch, there's a scene in which Marilyn Monroe, after having seen the movie The Creature from the Black Lagoon, remarks that she felt sorry for the monster because, underneath it all, it just wanted to be loved. Well, I have a similar feeling about Hedda Gabler. There's no denying that in many ways, Gabler is very much a monster. Yet you can't help feeling a little sorry for her when, despite all of her schemes, she's unable to prevent her world from crumbling in around her, and, worst of all, having her worst fear - someone having power over her - realized.

Grotesque Charade

It's difficult not to feel the pain that lies behind Hedda's monstrous behavior because most of us know that there are few things more soul-killing than harboring a desire for something you're too afraid to pursue.

Past adaptations of Ibsen's classic have portrayed Hedda as a victim of her time. This Women's Lib-era adaptation was somewhat controversial in translating some of the dialog in a more comedic vein as well as depicting Hedda as a more active agent of her own destruction. This non-victim point of view has the benefit of bringing to the forefront the irony behind Hedda's endless machinations, as it emphasizes Hedda indeed possessing the power to be the catalyst for many events, most of them proving only to be tragic and at cross purpose with her objectives.

"I will be silent in future."

In addition to Hedda, a very fine film I wish more people could see, there appears to be an entire catalog of Glenda Jackson films that have yet to be released on DVD. Among them: The Incredible Sarah (1976), The Nelson Affair (1973), Robert Altman's H.E.A.L.T.H. (1980), The Triple Echo (1972), Stevie (1978)...oh, the list goes on. Talk about your tragedies!

*Update 2024 - As of this date, only The Incredible Sarah and HEALTH lack official DVD releases.

Glenda Jackson and Timothy West in a clip from "Hedda" (1975)

Copyright © Ken Anderson    2009 - 2011

CLOSER 2004

If the amoral bed-hoppers that make up the bulk of daytime tabloid talk shows were articulate, intelligent, impossibly attractive, and rich; their lives might be something like the lives of the four spiritually damaged protagonists of Closer, Mike Nichols' searing look at the pain people cause one another in the name of love.

Julia Roberts as Anna

Jude Law as Dan

Natalie Portman as Alice

Clive Owen as Larry

The tony trappings of upscale London fail to mask the rather ugly games of sexual one-upmanship that characterize the entwining relationships of the film's four lead characters. Based on a play by Patrick Marber (who wrote the equally perceptive and acidic Notes on a Scandal - 2006), Closer is a sexual roundelay that skewers romantic myth and lays waste those who narcissistically pursue love as though it were part of a self-improvement program. Here, the believers of love at first sight; those souls whose religion is passion, chemistry, and the heart wanting what it wants - are revealed to also be the ones most likely to grant themselves license to lie, deceive, and inflict pain. Provided it's all done in the name of love.

 

 

 

Changing Partners

Having explored the ins and outs of caustic relationships in both Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) and Carnal Knowledge (1971),  Mike Nichols is cinema's unofficial frontline correspondent in the war between the sexes. With wit and candor, he goes to places of rare honesty in human relations and somehow finds ways of making us see parts of ourselves in some of the most odious characters. He has a gift for shining a compassionate but cold light on some of the worst aspects of human interaction and, in the process, reinforces the notion that sometimes, even at our most monstrous, most of us are rarely ever less than just human.

"Hello, Stranger"

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM:

The language. Though biting and brutal, the dialog in Closer is too clever to be real:

Portman: “I don’t eat fish.”
Law: “Why not?”
Portman: “Fish piss in the sea.”
Law: “So do children.”
Portman: “I don’t eat children, either."

- but direct and to the point in revealing character and the small ways we use words to protect ourselves, wound others, and ultimately conceal. The film is as much a treat for the ears as it is for the eyes.

The Truth: 

“Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. But it’s better if you do.”

PERFORMANCES

Years before Black Swan Natalie Portman proved that she was more than just a sci-fi geek pinup. Though outrageously beautiful and possessing a natural star quality, Portman is refreshingly low on self-consciousness and unafraid to go to the uglier places a character might take her. Cast cannily as the kind of male fantasy dream girl she's been marketed as since her career began, Portman reveals levels of intelligence and will that are not often associated with waifish objects-of-affection. She is never less than compelling throughout and, for me at least, virtually wipes the rest of the accomplished cast off the screen.

 The Lie

THE STUFF OF FANTASY

At one point in the film, Portman's character describes rival Julia Roberts's photographic artwork as 

"A bunch of sad strangers photographed beautifully.” She might just as well have been talking about the film she's appearing in.

Closer is indeed a film about unpleasant people acting unpleasantly, but everyone is shot so lovingly they're practically incandescent. As a fan of vintage movies, my heart has a special place for that time in history (pre-late-50s realism) when movies were populated exclusively by those humanoid gods and goddesses we called movie stars. They didn't look like anyone we'd ever seen, and the world they inhabited onscreen didn't even remotely look like the one we inhabited. It was a hyper-reality that created a dreamscape to build fantasies on.

Closer, with its gleaming sets and uniformly gorgeous cast, uses old-time glamour to present a merciless look at the dark side of romantic desire. It's so effective in creating a kind of visual/emotional paradox that I can't help thinking it's a conscious creative choice on Nichols' part.  

THE STUFF OF DREAMS

The one scene I never tire of watching is a sequence that takes place in a private room of a strip club where Natalie Portman and Clive Owen verbally spar about love, lust, and longing.

It is amazing on so many levels. From a purely technical standpoint, the astounding virtuosity of the camera angles alone makes for a unitary lesson in filmmaking.

It's funny, tense, sexy as hell, and oddly moving as these two enact a mating dance of the lonely.

It certainly doesn't hurt that Natalie Portman sets the screen aflame, either.

WOW!

WHAT FUELED MY DREAMS

From everything I've written thus far, I've made it sound as though Closer were an anti-romantic comedy (black comedy) and basically down on love. The truth is, like that other favorite of mine, Two for the Road, Closer is at its core a deeply romantic film. Chiefly because it dares to show the bare bones of relationships and dramatizes the hard work and self-sacrifice necessary to achieve true intimacy with another. The four protagonists in Closer all fumble about blindly seeking love without knowing how to return it, demanding love without earning it, and giving love without committing to it.

Love Gets Ugly 

It deflates the popular romantic ideal (one favored by movie love stories) of the instant attraction, the animal connection that sparks all great romances. Closer dares to posit that those who indulge this conceit are fantasists in love with the idea of love and are unprepared (or lack the maturity) to do the hard work required if one hopes to grow "closer" to another individual.
To my way of thinking, a film like Closer gives love the respect it deserves.

Not everybody has the stomach for movies like this. Indeed, the public stayed well away from this film when it was released. But the relationships I grew up around (and I dare say a good many of the relationships I see today) look more like the ones depicted here than the inherently dishonest, wish-fulfillment fantasies of The Bridges of Madison County or Under the Tuscan Sun. That may be my curse or blessing; I don't know. But what I do know is that I've seen more tears shed and people hurt over the pursuit of false ideals than I ever have over people coming to terms with the fact that love takes courage, selflessness, and a willingness to be vulnerable.

Law: “Deception is brutal. I’m not pretending otherwise”

Closer is an adult story about the responsibilities of real love. That it tells its story with wit, intelligence, and style only serves to make it one of my fave-rave films of all time. A modern realist classic.

Natalie Portman - Stopping Traffic

Copyright © Ken Anderson    2009 - 2011