After more than a decade of shouldering, with both dignity and grace, the
damned-if-you-do/damned-if-you-don’t burden of being Hollywood's first Black superstar; being the representative movie face of the
entirety of Black America, while at the same time, Liberal Hollywood’s unofficial
Civil Rights symbol-- Sidney Poitier’s appearance in the well-intentioned,
but nonetheless cringe-worthy 1967 film Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? successfully brought
his trademark Noble Negro character to its logical conclusion. I number myself among those who felt that by 1967, if Poitier's godlike paragon of Afro-American perfection was the kind of sugar necessary to make the medicine of racial equality go down, then the time had indeed come for a complete overhaul of the cinema image of the Black American.
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| Sidney Poitier as Jack Parks |
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| Abbey Lincoln as Ivy Moore |
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| Beau Bridges as Tim Austin |
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| Lauri Peters as Gena Austin |
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| Leon Bibb as Billy Talbot |
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| Carroll O'Connor as Frank Austin |
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| Nan Martin as Doris Austin |
I was just 10 years old at the time, but I recall Sidney Poitier being everywhere in 1967. First, there was Sidney as the sole Black teacher at a high school in London in To Sir With Love. I saw that movie more times than I can count, and it ranks as perhaps my favorite of his screen roles. Then, there was In The Heat of the Night, which was powerful (that slap!), but take away the then-controversial racial angle, and it's a fairly routine police drama.
And then came the much-ballyhooed release of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?, which was such a major event in our household. My mom adored Poitier and was a Katherine Hepburn fan, to boot, so seeing the film occasioned the rare family movie outing.
As much as I can't really abide Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? now, you have no idea of its significance in terms of social and political timeliness (in a creampuff-tossed-at-a-Goliath way), and what a groundswell of controversy it sparked when it came out.
I also remember how eye-opening it was at the time that, no matter how divided opinions were over the film's themes, I don't recall hearing about any Black people staging any public protests against it. All levels of picketing, angry protests, violent threats, and acts of hostility leveled at theaters showing this almost comically circumspect movie were the usual domestic terrorists: white racists and Bible-thumping extremists.
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| For Love of Ivy opened in Los Angeles on Wednesday, July 17, 1968 at the Bruin Theater in Westwood |
With Poitier starring in three such profitable and high-profile films in the same year, signs would seem to indicate the Academy Award-winning actor’s already illustrious career (1964 Best Actor - Lilies of the Field) was on the ascendant. But, irony of ironies, after being virtually the sole Black lead actor working consistently in films for many years, Poitier's popularity began to decline in direct proportion to the youth-market-fueled Black film explosion of the 1970s. Films whose chief distinction was that they were stories about Black experience made for Black audiences, not the usual "racial tolerance lessons" films designed for white audience consumption.
With a new decade dawning and, with it, an exciting array of new Black talent and Afro-centric narratives filling movie screens, Poitier must have found it dismaying to have the very doors he had been so instrumental in opening for actors of color feel as though they were beginning to close on him.
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| 40-year-old Sidney Poitier grooves at a '60s Happening Poitier's comforting, buttoned-down image began to look dated as the more militant '70s approached |
Thus, it was perhaps with no small sense of relief on his part when Poitier at last discarded his socially imposed halo and embarked upon a
series of human-scale roles designed to update and reconstruct his image. That he essentially had to write, produce, and eventually direct most of these roles to achieve this goal points to the level of reluctance he faced within the industry when called upon to be treated as anything other than a symbol of racial tolerance. In 1969s The Lost Man, Poitier played a militant
revolutionary(!), a single father and romantic lead in A
Warm December (1973), and a thief in A
Piece of the Action (1977). But his very first attempt at downsizing the saintly
Poitier mystique was in the charming romantic comedy, For Love of Ivy.
Debunking the myth of the contented domestic
who's happy to be treated "Like one of the family."
who's happy to be treated "Like one of the family."
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| Jack - "Looks like you've got a pretty good setup here." Ivy - "Too good!. I don't want to die here." Jack - "You've got to die somewhere." Ivy - "Well, isn't it better not to go ignorant and alone?" |
The upscale suburban household of the Austin family is
thrown into a tailspin when Ivy (Lincoln), the family maid of nine years, decides to quit, move to New York, and attend secretarial school. In other words, make a life for herself. Convinced that she is simply suffering from loneliness, the younger members of the family, Tim & Gena (Bridges/Peters), decide to find her a boyfriend. Not just any suitor, mind you, since they certainly
don’t want her falling in love and leaving to get married or anything, but a beau who's local and altar-shy. Someone willing to wine and dine
Ivy with no strings attached.
Their best candidate for the job is Jack Parks (Poitier), the wealthy owner of a trucking company whose reputation as a swinger assures them Ivy won’t be
whisked away, and whose illegal mobile gambling operation makes him a shoo-in
for a little maid-courtship extortion.
With Ivy being tricked into thinking she's dating Jack just to help out the Austin family business (they own a department store and have contracts with Jack's trucking company), and Jack taking Ivy out to avoid having the Austin kids blow the whistle on his illegal nighttime activities, each party assumes they know what they're getting into as they embark on their arranged rendezvous. And if you’ve ever seen a rom-com or episode of Love, American Style before, there’s really no mystery as to how things between Ivy and Jack will play out.
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| The Set-Up |
The well-intentioned Austins mistake their need for Ivy with actual concern for her welfare. Efficient, intelligent, and easygoing, Ivy's presence in the home is invaluable. She's a buffer between the acrimonious father and son, a sister of sorts to the daughter, and is responsible for whatever order the lady of the house is able to maintain in virtually all areas domestic. White liberalism is lampooned, Black self-reliance is championed, and among a cast of characters at loggerheads over how best to live their lives, Ivy emerges as the one clear-headed individual who never strays from her desire to strike out on her own and seek independence.
Genre-wise, it's all very familiar territory that feels delightfully fresh due to how much fun it is to see (at long last) these well-worn Doris Day/Rock Hudson rom-com cliches employed in the service of a Black couple. Black characters at the center of a romantic narrative in which they are allowed to be relaxed, funny, determined, amorous, conflicted, self-assured, independent, and imperfect were a rarity in 1968. And it's not exactly a commonplace occurrence now.
Genre-wise, it's all very familiar territory that feels delightfully fresh due to how much fun it is to see (at long last) these well-worn Doris Day/Rock Hudson rom-com cliches employed in the service of a Black couple. Black characters at the center of a romantic narrative in which they are allowed to be relaxed, funny, determined, amorous, conflicted, self-assured, independent, and imperfect were a rarity in 1968. And it's not exactly a commonplace occurrence now.
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| For Love of Ivy was taken to task for being corny in the Swinging '60s. In today's atmosphere of misogynist, mean-spirited rom-coms, the respectful, genuinely sweet romance at the center of the film looks positively cutting-edge. |
With a screenplay adapted by Robert Alan Aurthur (All That Jazz) from a 19-page story treatment written by Poitier
himself (that was turned down by three studios), For Love of Ivy is one of
those familiar, old-fashioned romantic comedies built around a grand deception.
A lie first contrived to bring the lovers together, followed by a misunderstanding, ending with a romantic reconciliation. It’s exactly the kind of movie Hollywood has churned out
for years. And therein lies the twist.
For the longest time, Hollywood’s depiction of African-Americans in movies has been defined
by the narrow parameters of symbols, stereotypes, sidekicks, or vessels of
suffering in need of white rescue. Black characters just being human in a motion picture is still such an original concept, you could probably use plots from silent movies and the film would come out looking like an innovative act of cultural insurgency by the mere casting of Black actors in the lead roles.
Paraphrasing the sentiments of a movie critic from the time—after having played so
many solemn, “uplift the race” roles, Poitier, as a Black movie star, was more than entitled to exercise his right to appear in the same mindless, escapist movie
fare white stars like Frank Sinatra and Tony Curtis had been making for years. Sidney Poitier had earned the right to be in an amusing, escapist diversion.
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| After nearly 20 years in the business, leading man Sidney Poitier finally gets a love scene |
WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM
When a film dismissed at the time of its release for being
too light and conventional provides: 1) One of the screen’s most independent, dimensional Black female characters, 2) The still-rare occurrence of a Black romance at the
center of a mainstream, non-niche motion picture, 3) An Afro-centric narrative in
which the goals and objectives of the Black characters are in no way invested
in, nor dependent upon, the happiness of white characters—perhaps there’s a
bigger statement to be made about why it is today, during the Administration of
our first Black President, Hollywood still seems unable to move beyond butlers
(The Butler- 2013), maids (The Help- 2011), and slaves (not enough
space to list them all).
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| Though she's always being told she's like one of the family, Ivy is the only Austin "family" member required to use the service entrance. This silent, throwaway shot of Ivy returning home from a date contains the crux of the reason she wants to leave. A reason right under the noses of the people who profess love for her, yet are unable to understand why she needs to quit. |
I have a real soft spot in my heart for For Love of Ivy...and not just because I find Poitier and Lincoln to be such an engaging couple. The broadly farcical aspects of its plot notwithstanding, I respond sentimentally to For Love of Ivy because Ivy Moore is one of the most satisfyingly believable Black female characters I've ever seen in a film.
Surprisingly, this feather-light comedy was directed by Daniel Mann, who helmed the film adaptations of the dramas Come Back, Little Sheba, The Rose Tattoo, and I'll Cry Tomorrow. Sidney Poitier was inspired to write For Love of Ivy to provide his four daughters with an alternative to the usual glamorized (fetishized?) images of Black women onscreen. Stars like Lena Horne, Dorothy Dandridge, and Diahann Carroll (with whom Poitier once had an affair) were favored for their Eurocentric features and exotic sexuality. Poitier wished to present his daughters with a more authentic representation of Black womanhood.
And authenticity is exactly what I find in the character of Ivy, as embodied by the late Abbey Lincoln. Ivy is a dignified, independent woman who wants love and a better life, and best of all, isn’t looking to be rescued or saved by anyone but herself. She's a woman who only works as a maid... it's just what she does, not who she is.
When I watch For Love of Ivy, I see my four sisters, my mom, and every Black woman who has ever had to define herself, for herself, because society, by and large, can't be bothered. I've no doubt that the main reason the character of Ivy resonates with me is that, when I was small, my mother worked for a time as a maid. Later, when I was a pre-teen, my parents divorced. I remember my mom going to night school, getting her driver's license, and eventually working her way to a managerial position in government at San Francisco’s Federal Building. All the while sending all of us kids to a private Catholic school.
That she eventually came to meet and marry a terrific, well-to-do gentleman who was her own Sidney Poitier figure (and a dynamite father figure for me), making it possible for her to quit her job and live out her days in comfort, is the kind of real-life "Hollywood" ending for a deserving woman that makes the fairy tale romanticism of For Love of Ivy feel a good deal less sappy for me than perhaps it does to others.
Self-reliant and proud, my mother, as remarkable as she
sounds, isn’t really unique among Black women. There are lots like her around. But I never saw any Black women like my mother represented in the movies (glamorized and glorified, to boot!) until I saw For Love of Ivy.
And authenticity is exactly what I find in the character of Ivy, as embodied by the late Abbey Lincoln. Ivy is a dignified, independent woman who wants love and a better life, and best of all, isn’t looking to be rescued or saved by anyone but herself. She's a woman who only works as a maid... it's just what she does, not who she is.
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| "What do you want?" "I'm not sure. I just know I haven't got it now." |
When I watch For Love of Ivy, I see my four sisters, my mom, and every Black woman who has ever had to define herself, for herself, because society, by and large, can't be bothered. I've no doubt that the main reason the character of Ivy resonates with me is that, when I was small, my mother worked for a time as a maid. Later, when I was a pre-teen, my parents divorced. I remember my mom going to night school, getting her driver's license, and eventually working her way to a managerial position in government at San Francisco’s Federal Building. All the while sending all of us kids to a private Catholic school.
That she eventually came to meet and marry a terrific, well-to-do gentleman who was her own Sidney Poitier figure (and a dynamite father figure for me), making it possible for her to quit her job and live out her days in comfort, is the kind of real-life "Hollywood" ending for a deserving woman that makes the fairy tale romanticism of For Love of Ivy feel a good deal less sappy for me than perhaps it does to others.
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| Principally a jazz singer and songwriter, here is 25-year-old Abbey Lincoln in the 1956 film, The Girl Can't Help It. (Wearing a gown first worn by Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes - 1953) |
For all its abundant charm, For Love of Ivy is a bit of a puzzler when it comes to comedic
tone. It’s like when I was a kid and easy-laugh sitcoms like Gilligan’s Island were scheduled back-to-back with “heartwarming” gentle humor sitcoms like The Ghost
& Mrs. Muir. Trying to adjust to this shift in tone, I always felt as though my funny bone had a short in it or
something.
Watching For Love of
Ivy, comedically speaking, I get a sense of where it’s coming from. One part is a fraught-with-complications
Cary Grant romantic comedy like That Touch of Mink; another is a class satire along the lines of Goodbye Columbus; while yet another is a bourgeois romantic comedy-of-manners like Cactus Flower. Unfortunately (and in ways I can't quite put my finger on), the bubble-light comedy of For Love of Ivy has considerable trouble staying aloft.
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| Making her film debut (far right): Jennifer O'Neill of The Summer of '42 (1971) |
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| Also making her film debut (far right): Gloria Hendry, the first Black Bond Girl in Live & Let Die (1973) |
I get a sense of where the film's comedy is coming from, but too often it never really arrives. Which may be a matter of direction more than writing. Farces like this thrive on pacing, wit, and a kind of effortless effervescence, but the comedy rhythms
in For Love of Ivy always feel a
little off. Beau Bridges--playing one of those stock, clean-cut hippies that only
exist in the movies--has a sense of comedy timing and rhythms. He’s a terrific actor who can convey sincerity while still exhibiting the genre-mandated hyperactivity of expression,
inflection, and body language so necessary in broad comedy. Unfortunately, all too often it feels as though he's playing in a vacuum.
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| Tim Harbors A Not-Too-Secret Crush On Ivy No stranger to onscreen interracial relationships, Bridges fell in love with Diana Sands in 1970s The Landlord, and most recently, portrayed Tracee Ellis Ross' father on the TV show Black-ish |
Sidney Poitier, playing a morally dubious character for the first
time since Blackboard Jungle (1955), looks
to be enjoying himself and is more relaxed than he’s been in years. Cutting a dashing figure in his tux, and
fairly oozing sex appeal and star quality, Poitier finally gets the chance to look
the part of the matinee idol he’s always been. Poitier has a splendid chemistry
and rapport with co-star Lincoln, but when it comes to the comedy, the palpable
intelligence behind his piercing eyes has a way of grounding even the most
convoluted of plot contrivances in an emotional reality antithetical to the breeziness
of tone required of material like this. (It would be six years before Poitier loosened
up enough to give his disarmingly funny performance in Uptown Saturday Night -1974.)
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| Not really given much to do in this film, Nan Martin would go on to play a tougher version of the same role the following year in Goodbye Columbus. Carroll O'Connor, along with his fame from All in the Family, would play the Rod Steiger role in the long-running TV series based on Poitier's film In The Heat of the Night |
But while the broader comedy doesn't always catch fire in For Love of Ivy, the very gentle, very affecting character humor and touching relationships are handled rather extraordinarily. Beau Bridges' character may be a misguided liberal, but his very real affection for Ivy is rather endearingly portrayed.
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| Award Season trade paper ad |
THE STUFF OF DREAMS
Displaying that rare brand of professional generosity I tend to associate with Clint Eastwood (he being one of the few leading men willing to hand over a film to a female co-star), Sidney Poitier allows For Love of Ivy to be Abbey Lincoln's show completely. And the picture is all the better for it. |
| For Love of Ivy should have made the beautiful and gifted Abbey Lincoln a movie star. Nominated for a Golden Globe, she wisely (in terms of holding onto her sanity and dignity) stuck to her music career. Lincoln didn't make another film until 1990 - Spike Lee's Mo' Betta Blues. |
Abbey Lincoln is a natural at capturing the essence of a uniquely contemporary type of female character: an intelligent, self-possessed individual who nevertheless projects a kind of old-fashioned dignity. Word has it that Lincoln, a singer and Civil Rights activist for whom Ivy represents just her second film role (following the must-see 1964 drama Nothing But a Man), beat out 300 actresses for the role. I can easily see why. She's one of a kind.
From beginning to end, Lincoln commands the screen in a way born not so much of technical skill, but rather, an ability to appear 100% genuine every minute. In the film's brightly lit, artificial sitcom gloss, Lincoln stands out as the real thing.
Not a single one of her scenes is ever less than compelling because she comes across as incapable of being false. Her performance fills my heart so much, I confess that in the many times I've seen the film, I have yet to make it through dry-eyed. Her character is so endearing, and Lincoln's performance, at times, so emotionally raw, that I've pretty much got the waterworks going full-throttle by the film's conclusion.
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| Get Out Your Handkerchiefs I have many favorite scenes, but this one slays me. Poitier has never been more charming, and Lincoln is a heartbreaker |
Along with Two for the Road and A New Leaf, For Love of Ivy is one of my top favorite romantic comedies. Nostalgia plays a role (after all, it was released the same year as so many of my most beloved films: Rosemary's Baby, Barbarella, Secret Ceremony, etc.), as does sentiment (Poitier & Lincoln have chemistry to spare). But there's also a bittersweet element. I think of Sidney Poitier's heroic career and all he sacrificed in the way of personal choice, taking on roles because of his deeply felt sense of social responsibility. I think of Abbey Lincoln and all the other Black actresses whose gifts we've been deprived of because no one was writing roles like this for Black women.
And then I think of how things are today, and how it is clear that more progress still needs to be made. For all the outcry for women to play a larger role both in front of and behind the camera in films, the call seems to come mostly from a white feminist faction that doesn't always recognize the contributions of women of color. And when it comes to Black filmmakers creating roles for women, I have to make sure my mind doesn't entertain thoughts of what someone like Tyler Perry would do to a remake of For Love of Ivy (For Love of Medea?), and instead ponder what the vast underutilized armies of Black women filmmakers would contribute.
Although For Love of Ivy has been a favorite of mine for years, how I came about rewatching it is due to my being asked to participate in a podcast where we were to discuss the contrasting depiction of Black women as domestics/maids in 1968's For Love of Ivy vs 2011's The Help. Although the podcast is no longer online, to sum it up, I felt the 2011 film was retrogressive in the worst way. Both in its superficial Black characters and its dominant white gaze. In 1968 For Love of Ivy seemed quaint...but compared to The Help, it's almost revolutionary. What a difference 43 years can make.
Clip from "For Love of Ivy" (1968)
Quincy Jones' title song (sung by jazz singer Shirley Horn in the film and on the soundtrack LP) was For Love of Ivy's sole Oscar nomination. Listen.
Unused title song commissioned for the film. Composed by John Phillips and performed by The Mamas and the Papas. Listen.
Nothing But a Man (1964) - Complete film available on YouTube
