Whether or not Reynolds actually wore Brut I have no way of knowing, but it must have been the favorite fragrance of a lot of 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 business of making movies. It makes me smile to think that such an overripe aftershave was responsible for one of my all-time favorite Glenda Jackson films: Hedda.
Being a fellow of a somewhat dreamy nature myself, I am drawn to narratives with protagonists whose lives are motivated (and sometimes undone) by their idealism. Like Flaubert's Madame Bovary or the character of 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. It's a description of herself at which Hedda, who thinks she's a realist in all things, would surely balk. But it's precisely Hedda's incapability of recognizing and acting on her romantic ideals and desire for a life more impactful than that prescribed for women in 1890s Norway that is 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 easy on Ibsen). Or perhaps it could be found in the disillusioned ennui of Peggy Lee's "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 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 betrayal and personal tragedy.
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| Glenda Jackson as Hedda Gabler |
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| Peter Eyre as Hedda's ineffectual scholar husband, George Tesman |
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| Patrick Stewart (with LOTS of hair) as old flame, Ejlert Lovborg |
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| Jennie Linden (Jackson's Women in Love co-star) as rival, Thea Elvsted |
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| 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 indulge 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.
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| Hedda - desperately bored...again |
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| Hedda attempts to wedge herself between and rival and a former suitor |
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| "For once in my life I want to have power over somebody's fate." |
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.
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| General Gabler's Pistols Hedda's masculine longing for independence is phallically represented by the firearms she must keep under lock and key |
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, onscreen, in my opinion, few actresses are as electrifying. 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!"
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| Hedda: "I think I'll burn your hair off after all!" |
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.
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| Trapped |
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.
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| 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.
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| "I will be silent in future." |
*Update 2024 - As of this date, only The Incredible Sarah and HEALTH lack official DVD releases.
