TOP 20 FAVORITE OSCAR-ELIGIBLE MOVIE SONGS (That Didn't Receive a Nomination)

Much like Christmas, movie Award Season is one of my favorite times of year. This is in the face of the fact that for some time now, it's been understood among cinephiles that Academy Award acknowledgement is more a marketing advantage than a legitimate recognition or reflection of excellence in the cinematic arts. Each time Academy Award season rolls around, my thoughts invariably go to all the absolutely brilliant movies that never got the time of day from Mr. Oscar, while things like The Greatest Show on Earth (1952) and Shakespeare in Love (1998) actually occupy space in film journals, highlighting them as the representatives of the Best of their respective years. 

But, as I always say, the appraisal of films is essentially a subjective activity, even when it comes to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, which has a track record of ignoring films that are independent, experimental, or that don't perform well at the boxoffice.

Which brings me to the subject of this post. The Academy Award Best Song category is ripe for picking (at), for I've always thought it a category almost perverse in its seeming preference for the absolute worst of the worst of what's available in movie music. 

Since, like my tastes in movies, my personal tastes in music can be just as offbeat and eccentric, I thought I'd compile a Top 20 list of songs from motion pictures I'd nominate in my own personal "Best Song" category. Selecting not from among the nominees that failed to win, but from eligible songs that were overlooked entirely. 

I'm intentionally leaving out more well-known, historically egregious omissions like Kander & Ebb's superb title tune from New York, New York, "Pure Imagination" from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, "Staying Alive" from Saturday Night Fever, and "To Sir, With Love" from the 1967 Sidney Poitier film. As is my wont, I'm going to concentrate on oddities and obscurities I've loved since the first time I heard them. All personal, wholly subjective, all-time favorites, currently on heavy rotation on my iPod. 

Songs are not listed in order of preference.

Click on song title captions to listen on YouTube. 

1.

Film: Such Good Friends (1971)  Song: "Suddenly It's All Tomorrow"

Words & music - Thomas Z. Shephard and Robert Brittan. Sung by O.C. Smith

Played over the end credits of Otto Preminger’s overstated comedy-drama about a Manhattan wife who discovers her dying husband has had numerous extramarital affairs; this lovely, wistful song succinctly captures the feeling of dark clouds parting and the contemplation of a brighter future.

2.

Film: Ziegfeld Follies (1945)  Song: "This Heart of Mine"

Words & music - Harry Warren & Arthur Freed. Sung by Fred Astaire

This song wins out due to a confluence of reasons. It’s an entrancingly beautiful melody, Fred Astaire’s vocals are flawless, and it contains a lyric that turns on the waterworks for me unfailingly (“As long as life endures, it's yours, this heart of mine”). They really don't write 'em like this anymore. The song begins at the four-minute point on this video, but check out the 8-minute point to see what I call the “goosebump moment” wherein Vincente Minnelli’s eye for baroque romanticism and the heavenly dancing of Astaire and Lucille Bremer confirm just why dreams are what Le Cinema is for.

3.

Film: Xanadu (1980)  Song: "Xanadu"

Words & music - Jeff Lynne. Sung by Olivia Newton-John & Electric Light Orchestra

Olivia Newton-John and ELO are the most inspired musical pairing since The Pet Shop Boys recruited and retooled Liza Minnelli. On the Xanadu title song, Livvy’s heavenly vocals are a perfect blend with Jeff Lynne’s soaring orchestrations, the result: a pulsatingly infectious, smile-inducing title tune that ranks among my favorite songs of all time.

4.

Film: Raintree County (1957)  Song: "The Song of Raintree County"

Words & music - Johnny Green & Paul Francis Webster. Sung by Nat King Cole

I think I would like the melody of this touching, old-fashioned love song anyway, but Nat King Cole’s stirring vocals (that voice!) really make this delicate tune such a sentimentally romantic favorite.  

5.

Film: Freaky Friday (1976)  Song: "I'd Like To Be You For a Day"

Words & music - Al Kasha & Joel Hirschhorn.  Sung by NOT Barbara Harris & Jodie Foster

Nominated for a Golden Globe but ignored by the Oscars, Freaky Friday opens with a cute mother-daughter duet that combines the catchy rhythms of classic TV sitcom theme songs with the lyric playfulness of nursery rhymes. A thoroughly charming arrangement and appealing harmonizing mystery vocals (they’re too smooth for Barbara Harris, too high-pitched for Jodie Foster) work in concert with clever cut-out title animation of the sort that was once a Disney trademark.

6.

Film: Emmanuelle IV (1984)  Song: "Oh, My Belle Emmanuelle"

Words & music - David Rose / Sergio Renucci / Marie Claude Calvet.  Sung by The Performers Band

OK, this one is a bit of a cheat. On two counts. First, Emmanuelle IV is a French film and would never be considered for a Best Song Oscar nomination, but I’m including it here because this title tune, sung over the film’s opening credits (which also serves up a Penthouse magazine-worthy montage of actress Sylvia Kristel), is a sensational slice of French cheese. It’s actually rather sublime, really. Romantically lush orchestrations blend with an '80s Kenny G-like saxophone accompaniment, all in service of a vaguely Eurovision-style vocalist crooning an anthem of love to “new” Emmanuelle (don’t ask). Like a Serge Gainsbourg composition, it manages to be sexy, sleazy, and romantic all at the same time!

7.

Film: Shanghai Surprise (1986)    Song: "Shanghai Surprise"

Words & music - George Harrison.  Sung by George Harrison & Vicki Brown

Nothing even remotely associated with this film got any love back in 1986 when Madonna and then-husband Sean Penn were successors to Barbra Streisand and Jon Peters as Hollywood’s most obnoxious couple. Too bad, for while I couldn’t stand the film myself, I’ve always been crazy about this title song: a cleverly rhyme-happy duet that's the equivalent of a musical flirtation. 

8.

Film: Macon County Line (1974)  Song: "Another Day, Another Time"

Words & music - Bobbi Gentry.   Sung by Bobbi Gentry

A lyrical, rather haunting melody distinguished by Bobbi Gentry’s easygoing way with lyrics that paint vivid pictures and tell a story. Considerably more graceful and affecting than the redneck exploitation film it was written for, I’m particularly fond of Gentry’s melancholy vocals.

9.

Film: Sparkle (1976)   Song: "Hooked on Your Love"

Words & music - Curtis Mayfield.   Sung by Lonette McKee, Irene Cara & Dwan Smith

It’s doubtful the old coots representing the music branch of the Motion Picture Academy even knew who Curtis Mayfield was, let alone appreciated the outstanding R&B score he composed for the low-budget musical Sparkle. The Motown-inspired score is pure '70s soul (the film is set in the '60s), and among the many songs I enjoy, my favorite is this silky-smooth number with a pulsing backbeat. Aretha Franklin performed all the songs on the soundtrack album, but check out the YouTube video - not only to hear the smoking-hot girl-group vocals of Irene Cara, Lonette McKee, and Dwan Smith, but also to see the slinky choreography.

10.

Film: The Magic Garden of Stanley Sweetheart (1970)
  Song: "Sweet Gingerbread Man"

Words & music - Michel Legrand, Marilyn & Alan Bergman.  Sung by The Mike Curb Congregation

The late-‘60s sound no one ever talks about is the easy-listening, inoffensive sunshine pop of The Jerry Ross Symposium, The Bob Crew Generation, and the folks behind this ditty, The Mike Curb Congregation. While a whole lot of hard rock and rollin’ was going on, bands like these (often just studio singers) gently introduced older folks (and clean-cut young ones) to the New Sound.

Michel LeGrand was all over the place in the '60s, and this sugary pop gem was covered by Sarah Vaughn, Jack Jones, Bobby Sherman, and many others. Almost unbearably cutesy and bubblegummy for most tastes, it practically screams “Sixties!” to me, and I have a decided soft spot in my heart (and most likely, my head) for this song. 

11.

Film: From Noon Till Three (1976)    Song: "Hello and Goodbye"

Words & music - Elmer Bernstein / Marilyn & Alan Bergman.   Sung by Jill Ireland

An elegant, lilting music box love song with sentimental lyrics that are simple yet very touching to an old softie like me. In the film, the song is just over 90 seconds long (though a later soundtrack album features the full melody), and it always manages to bring on the waterworks. An instrumental version plays during the opening credits; the song itself is later sung by a character in the film.

12.

Film: There's A Girl In My Soup (1970)  Song: "Miss Me in The Morning"

Words & music - Mike D'Abo & Nicolas Chinn.   Sung by Mike D'Abo

The vocals of the former lead singer of the English rock group Manfred Mann play a major role in why this irresistibly catchy and totally groovy piece of ‘60s fluff has stuck with me longer than the rather dismal comedy that it accompanies as the opening title track. Blending a touch of a Burt Bacharach vibe with a hint of Herb Alpert-style brass, the result is a lively tune that feels as stylishly mod and unmistakably British as a walk down Carnaby Street.

13.

Film: Across 110th Street  (1972)    Song: "Across 110th Street"

Words & music - Bobby Womack & J.J. Johnson. Sung by Bobby Womack

1970s sophisticated soul doesn’t get much better than this. Womack’s hard-edged vocals work in discordant concert with the sweeping orchestral arrangement and funky downbeats reminiscent of the Philadelphia Soul sound. The movie Jackie Brown (1997) introduced it to an entirely new generation. A criminally infectious title song with a memorable musical hook.

14.

Film: Something Big (1971)    Song: "Something Big"

Words & music - Hal David & Burt Bacharach.  Sung by Mark Lindsay

As far as I’m concerned, when it comes to film composers, the '60s sun rose and set with Burt Bacharach (along with the underappreciated but invaluable contributions of lyricist Hal David). I love all of his work, but this smooth title song from a notably terrible comedy western swings with a bossa nova beat and Bacharach’s signature syncopation and shifts in meter. What truly makes this song stand out for me are Mark Lindsay's (of Paul Revere and the Raiders) vocals, which highlight Bacharach’s amusing (and tres-groovy) tendency to end musical phrases on an “up” that sounds like a question being asked. A really terrific song.

15.

Film: Popeye (1980)    Song: "Swee'Pea's Lullaby"

Words & music - Harry Nilsson.  Sung by Robin Williams

The live-action cartoon Popeye—one of Robert Altman’s most financially successful films—is also one of his most unwieldy. The large amount of drugs consumed by cast and crew during filming no doubt contributed to this. Harry Nilsson contributed many witty, albeit repetitive tunes; the best, as far as I’m concerned, is this winsome, genuinely stirring lullaby—an oasis of quiet in a rather chaotic film. 

16.

Film: Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970)   Song: "In The Long Run"

Words & music - Rob Stone & Stu Phillips.   Sung by Lynn Carey
The very first time I saw Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, even as I was sitting staring in open-mouthed amazement at what was unfolding before me, I seized upon this song as a standout. From those killer chords that precede the vocals to the overall MOR psychedelic vibe of the arrangement, this song is a winner. 

17.

Film: Carbon Copy (1981)  Song" I'm Gonna Get Closer To You"

Words & music - Paul Williams & Bill Conti.    Sung by England Dan Seals
I place Paul Williams up there with Burt Bacharach and Charles Fox as one of my favorite movie composers. The song played over the closing credits of this largely forgotten comedy, notable only for being Denzel Washington's film debut, hooked me immediately. Hook being the operative word. Like a commercial jingle, the bouncy arrangement, cleverly rhymed lyrics, and light-as-a-feather vocals single-handedly elevated a so-so film into one I never forgot. Primarily because I liked this song so much.

18.

Film: Star Spangled Girl (1971)    Song: "Girl"

Words & music - Charles Fox & Norman Gimbel.    Sung by Davy Jones
Any fan of The Brady Bunch recognizes this pop tune, but few realize it is the theme to a flop Neil Simon comedy starring Sandy Duncan. Composed by fave-rave Charles Fox (Barbarella, Goodbye Columbus), it's a catchy confection of musical candy floss that is greatly enhanced by Jones' defining, distinctively British pronunciation of the word "girl."

19.

Film: Shock Treatment (1981)    Song: "Shock Treatment"

Words & music - Richard O'Brien & Richard Hartley.    Sung by Cast
This not-really sequel to the insanely successful The Rocky Horror Picture Show has grown on me a bit lately (especially in these reality TV times), but I thought of it was a huge disappointment when I first saw it. I did, however, love much of the music, most favorably the title tune, which rocks, harmonizes, is catchy as hell, and is a great deal of fun. A rollicking ensemble song punctuated by the "Shock Treatment" lyric pause/hook.

20.

Film: The Touchables (1968)   Song: "All of Us"

Words & music - Alex Spyropoulous & Patrick Campbell-Lyons.  Sung by Nirvana (not that Nirvana)
I conclude my list with a song from a film made in 1968, the first year I began to pay attention to movies. It's also the year when hippies, flower children, and psychedelia flooded pop culture, making this trippy British import of a theme song a stand-out favorite because it couldn't have been written at any other time. This dreamy, slightly hallucinatory song plays over the film's equally far-out, James-Bondian/Maurice Binder inspired title sequence. Fabulous British '60s sound.

Just to punctuate how often Oscar gets it wrong: 

Everyone assumes the classic theme from Goldfinger (1964) was a Best Song nominee. Yet, it wasn't even nominated! "Chim Chim Cher-ee" from Mary Poppins was the winner that year

Do you have a favorite song from a film? One that failed to win or even garner an Oscar nomination? Would love to hear about it!

Copyright © Ken Anderson  2009 - 2016

BEHIND THE CANDELABRA 2013

A motion picture comfortable in its own skin, about two men who weren’t.

Let’s see if I’ve got this straight (no pun intended): during its most repressed and puritanical years, Middle America, under the guise of “showman,” took to its heart a fey and outlandishly flamboyant, closeted gay man and kept him a star for over 50 years. Twenty-six years after his death, in the presumably more enlightened era of the 21^st century, a motion picture about the personal life of said showman (Waldziu [Walter] Valentino Liberace) is unable to land an American distributor because the subject matter is deemed “Too gay.” This from an industry that would greenlight Heaven’s Gate II if it contained ten seconds of girl-on-girl action.

What to take away from all this: 1. America prefers its gay men closeted, cartoonish, or nonthreateningly “other.” Preferably all three. 2. Unless viewed and validated through the prism of the heteronormative gaze (where the prerequisites are shame, self-pity, and a tacit plea for acceptance) America is uncomfortable with anything remotely approaching an authentic depiction of gay life. 3. Hollywood doesn’t acknowledge lesbians, only hot women having sex with one other (explaining, perhaps, why the phrase "too lesbian" has never been said by any heterosexual male at any time, ever).

 

Steven Soderbergh’s gleefully impudent Liberace film Behind the Candelabra eventually found a home on cable television, cable and the internet being the only frontiers of risk left in today’s landscape of cinematic follow-the-leader. As an HBO TV-movie, Behind the Candelabra emerged a critical and ratings blockbuster and a multi-award winner. An outcome confirming perhaps that the term “too gay” is valueless except perhaps as a signifier of a studio head being “Too ignorant.”

Michael Douglas as Liberace

Matt Damon as Scott Thorson

Rob Lowe as Dr. Jack Startz

Debbie Reynolds as Frances Liberace

  

Celebrity biography films, with their built-in melodrama, potential for questionable impersonations, and cheesy reenactments of real-life events, can be a lot of trashy fun. They can also be fascinating glimpses into the smoke and mirrors artifice of fame culture, often revealing the sizable disconnect between a star's public image and their private reality. However, more often than not, they tend to be formulaic, dramatized chronologies of a public figure's career milestones, like an AV study guide for a class called Celebrity History 101.

Celebrity biopics have been around so long that they’ve ceased being a categorization and have evolved into their own genre. But since real life rarely occurs in perfect three-act format, the fashioning of a coherent, workable narrative out of the often haphazard and random events of a public figure’s life frequently proves to be an obstacle for screenwriters that is not easily surmounted. Hence, most film bios rely on the serviceable but grossly overused rags-to-riches trope:
Initial struggle followed by success, then disenchantment followed by a downward career spiral, all of it culminating on a note of ultimate redemption. A format as fixed and set in concrete as the footprints outside Grauman’s Chinese Theater.

Cheyenne Jackson as Liberace protege Billy Leatherwood

I don't look to biographical films for documentary accuracy and adherence to facts, but it's frustrating when a bio appears hellbent on mythologizing its subject by skirting unpleasant truths. Similarly, I find dirt-only hatchet jobs to be as inherently dishonest and rose-colored as hagiographies. 

What I get excited about is when a filmmaker, in chronicling the life of a public figure, is able to seize upon a unique perspective that casts the work and life of the individual in a broader context. To comment upon the difference between art and artifice, image and identity, or perhaps, hold up a mirror into which we, as a culture, can gaze and perhaps see something of ourselves reflected back. Something that might even suggest how we have contributed to making this individual notable in the first place. 

The late Ken Russell, whose rhapsodically operatic films about the lives of classical composers gloriously transcended the usual “and then they wrote….” clichés, was a master of this. One can only imagine what a field day he would have had with Liberace’s excessive, troubled, and sequined-encrusted life.

Steven Soderbergh (Traffic, Erin Brockovich), wisely choosing to ignore the directive of Liberace’s “Too much of a good thing is wonderful!” paraphrase of Mae West’s famous line, avoids the potential for baroque overkill in favor of looking at Liberace’s life through the downsized prism of domestic drama. Behind the Candelabra, a serio-comic take on the last ten years in the life of the legendarily overdressed entertainer (adapted from the ghostwritten memoirs of former lover and current hot mess, Scott Thorson), is devoted to good-naturedly reducing Liberace’s grandiose public persona down to as close to human scale as the showman's outsized lifestyle and personality will allow.

The Emmy Award-winning recreations of Liberace's beyond-outrageous costumes
are the work of Ellen Mirojnick and Robert Q. Mathews

In the process, both Liberace and Thorson are granted a depth of humanity not readily apparent in Thorson's sordid kiss-and-tell recounting of their years-long, tabloid-ready association. Indeed, given that Liberace, talent and fame aside, could be easily characterized as just another eccentric narcissist, and Thorson no more than a naive opportunist, the screenplay by Richard LaGravenese treats both individuals with a kind of empathetic delicacy. Not dissimilar to the way Carson McCullers and Flannery O’Connor approached their Southern Gothic grotesques.
That may sound like faint praise, but one need only look at what happened with Mommie Dearest to appreciate what a considerable achievement it is for a film to find the humanity, no matter how small the capacity, in a public figure so ceaselessly devoted to turning themselves into a living caricature.

Misery's Annie Wilkes, Liberace fan

One of entertainment history’s great head-shakers is the fact that anyone with a functioning brain and eyes in their head ever thought for a nanosecond that mononymous pianist/entertainer Liberace was straight. More fascinating still, if his fanbase was comprised exclusively of, as one critic put it, “Teenage girls afraid of sex and middle-aged women no longer interested in it,” what does that say about the breadth and scope of his appeal?

At the start of Behind the Candelabra, Liberace is 57 years old, firmly ensconced in the Vegas glitz period of his career, and the successful plaintiff of several homosexuality libel suits. As the darling of the blue-haired set and with a stage show gayer than a Judy Garland convention, Liberace’s public disavowal of his true sexuality at this point was largely moot; just another ritualistically maintained aspect of his manufactured public image, no more authentic than the hair on his head or the diamonds in his lapels.

Blatantly “out” in his cloistered private life, Liberace, already on the ebb side of a relationship with prissy protégé Billy Leatherwood (Cheyenne Jackson), feels an instant attraction when introduced to 17-year-old veterinary trainee Scott Thorson (42-year-old Matt Damon) by mutual friend, Bob Black (Scott Bakula).

The Seduction
Watching Liberace perform at the Las Vegas Hilton, Scott Thorson is already hooked.
Scott Bakula, mustachioed and bescarfed, is one of Scott's pre-Liberace lovers

In the tradition of countless May/December romances the world over, one individual’s great wealth proves as equal and potent an aphrodisiac as the other's youth and beauty...and voila! Say goodbye to all rational obstacles otherwise posed by a 40-year age gap. Liberace and Scott Thorson embark upon a relationship that lasts six years. An affectionate and (by this film’s account, anyway) mutually loving cohabitation wherein the isolated entertainer and the teen with a history of being shuttled between foster homes, were a couple (of sorts) and became a family.

But Liberace and Scott Thorson were no Christopher Isherwood and Don Bachardy, and their brief time together proved to be as toxic as it was intoxicating.

Given Liberace's personality, history, insular life, and his conflicted relationship with his sexuality, his mother, and his Catholic upbringing, it’s not surprising that the riches he lavished on his young paramour came with strangely possessive strings. Nor was it as far-fetched as it sounds when Liberace launched on a plan to adopt Thorson, coming as it was from a place of kill-two-birds-with-one-stone pragmatism. Since gay marriage was illegal and gay couples had no legal protections or rights under heterosexist laws, adoption was the loophole by which many long-term gay couples availed themselves in order to gain legal protection in cases of illness and death. The second advantage of the adoption idea was that Liberace could further promote his heterosexual image by pawning Thorson off as his biological son.
The late Sydney Guilaroff, the famed, closeted hairdresser to the stars, did this very thing; he adopted his (much younger) male lover and publicly passed him off as his grandson.

No, where things take a turn for the bizarre is when Liberace has Thorson undergo extensive plastic surgery to resemble the pianist in his younger days. A strange request given that Liberace was always a rather peculiar-looking man, but understandable in light of it serving the dual purpose of feeding Liberace’s narcissism while further supporting the heterosexuality-reaffirming biological son gambit.

"I want you to make Scott look like this."
Liberace, whose private life and obsessions make him come across like the gay Hugh Hefner or Howard Hughes, enlists the services of a plastic surgeon to perform an unorthodox (if not downright creepy) variation on the traditional sugar-daddy-buys-mistress-a-boob-job routine

As drug use and petty jealousies escalated, and mutual sexual attraction waned, Thorson, at the ripe old age of 23, found himself the himbo soon to be put out to pasture to make way for the next “Blonde Adonis” on Liberace’s list. The latter part of Behind the Candelabra veers to the dark side as it recounts the painful circumstances precipitating the pair’s rancorous parting, complete with Liberace having his greatest fears being realized when Thorson files a very public palimony suit against him to the tune of $113 million. The lengthy court battle lasted nearly as long as the relationship itself, ultimately being settled out of court for $75,000).

Liberace succumbed to AIDS in 1987, keeping that closet door shut (at least in his mind) to the last. Behind the Candelabra affords the estranged couple a deathbed reconciliation and Liberace a glittering, heaven-bound sendoff more fitting than the modest burial he was given in real life.

Paul Reiser as Scott Thorson's attorney for the palimony suit he filed after
being evicted from Liberace's home. The ugly battle stretched out for four years

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM

I’ve never been a fan of Liberace nor much understood his appeal (although if you haven't already seen it, I recommend you run, don't walk, to get your hands on the hooty 1955 film Sincerely Yours). But he’s one of those old-fashioned show-biz “personalities” who has their act so down pat, they’re rather difficult to actually dislike. Check out any of his TV appearances on YouTube and you’ll see a man who has mastered the art of amiable subterfuge. Repeating the same self-deprecating jokes and anecdotes for what must be decades, Liberace skillfully hides behind witty patter and good-natured evasion.

Like a politician, he’s able to speak sincerely and at great length without ever once approaching the truth or revealing anything about himself he hasn’t already calculated he wants you to know. All the while coming across as genuine, friendly, and accessible. It would be terrifying if it weren’t so entertaining. (Dolly Parton and Charo are the only stars I know today to possess a similar quality.)

With nothing to go on in the way of recorded images of the showman just being himself, I'm impressed by how screenwriter Richard LaGravenese was able to forge so richly a dimensional representation of Liberace. One gets the impression of a gravely lonely man of not overwhelming depth-of-character who is simultaneously believable (and quite frightening) as both powerful and selfishly controlling.

Behind the Candelabra paints a portrait of a gay man who has learned (all too well) the lessons for survival taught to him by society (homosexuality was illegal much of Liberace's adult life) and the Church (he was devout Catholic). The lesson: you must learn to exist as two people: one for your private life, one for public display. And of course, Liberace’s extreme, schizophrenically dual existence is but a gold-plated, gilt-edged amplification of the day-to-day reality for millions of gay men living in a society that encourages masks and role-playing for those outside of the heteronormative standard.

By exploring the Liberace/Thorson relationship beyond the extremes of lifestyle and quirks of character, Behind the Candelabra draws provocative and amusing parallels between the roles the couple adopted in public (Liberace is a heterosexual, Thorson his chauffeur) and the roles they assumed in private (ironically, a realm where Liberace proved more comfortable in his sexuality than the prudish Thorson, who clung unconvincingly to his "bisexual" life preserver).

If Behind the Candelabra is to be believed, it must be said that for all his public artifice, Liberace was nothing if not his fully out and authentic self in his private life. And while I’ve never found anything admirable in his distancing himself from anything remotely connected to the gay community in his lifetime, it’s difficult not to acknowledge how the outrageousness of his stage persona couldn't help but expand the boundaries of what was acceptable for a male performer to be (and look like) onstage. And getting the Bible-belters to swallow it, yet! Liberace was definitely a product of his time, but as closeted as he was, it's somewhat miraculous that he never resorted to going through a sham heterosexual marriage like his heir-apparent in sequined crass, Elton John.

Lee and Scott, Fat and Happy

THE STUFF OF FANTASY

Whether true to the real-life circumstances or not, Behind the Candelabra is a love story...a marriage, in fact. And what I so admire about the film is that it tells this same-sex love story in a language no different from what you’d see in any other film about dysfunctional romance (Closer, Blue Valentine). Unconcerned with the comfort levels of the audience, gay respectability politics, or whether or not it will “play in Peoria,” Behind the Candelabra depicts two people in an intimate relationship as it should be: kissing, caressing, bickering, fucking, and going about their lives in the manner of countless couples the world over. It's a credit to the filmmakers that the extreme trappings of wealth and eccentricity emblematic of Liberace's life never overwhelm the human element.

PERFORMANCES

I’ve seen Michael Douglas in a great many films since his debut in Hail, Hero! in 1969, but I honestly think his Liberace is the best work he’s ever done. He’s remarkable. Referencing Mommie Dearest yet again, Douglas was given a public figure every bit as over the top as Crawford (more, actually) and somehow found a way to access the complexity behind a conspicuously superficial image. In the early scenes of courtship, Douglas captures Liberace's studied vulnerability and manipulative neediness, yet still makes us see these are simply the survival tools of an aging, lonely, isolated man. Later, when his tough side emerges (a flamboyant gay man who manages to sustain a show business career for more than four decades HAS to have a tough side), the image of Liberace as a hard-edged survivor is made startlingly believable. 

Garrett M. Brown and Jane Morris are standouts as Scott's concerned foster parents

Without looking exactly like him, Douglas captures the essence of the Liberace we know, embellishing this mini-impersonation of the stage personality with a well-conceived characterization of a Liberace away from the public glare. In an astoundingly vanity-free performance, Douglas achieves the impossible: he turns Liberace into an authentic human being. Michael Douglas surprised the hell out of me with this film and he deserved every one of the many awards his performance garnered.

Dan Aykroyd as Liberace's fix-it-all manager Seymour Heller

For all the issues I have with Matt Damon, the man (occasionally he just needs to shut the fuck up), I like him a great deal as an actor. Playing a perhaps less guileful version of Scott Thorson than the real deal, Damon’s reactive performance is easier to overlook. But like a painter working with a blank canvas (and if you’ve ever seen one of the real-life Thorson's numerous television appearances, you'll know they don't come much blanker) Damon imbues the character with a grifter's survival instinct and an urchin's willingness to please that grows quite poignant in the latter third of the film when the relationship starts to sour (as good as they are in the film’s earlier scenes, both actors are at their best when these individuals are at their worst.

THE STUFF OF DREAMS
With its gold-cast cinematography, impeccable eye for period detail in costuming and wigs, and painstaking recreation of Liberace's world of "palatial kitsch"; Behind the Candelabra is, as might be expected for a film about the life of one of show business's showiest showmen, a real visual treat. I suspect the visual haze and yellow glow also serve to soften the effect of the many prosthetic devices and makeup effects, as well as the digital work employed during Michael Douglas's scenes at the piano and during the finale where he appears younger than springtime.
I loved the film's sharp and funny script and its solid performances throughout (Debbie Reynolds is particularly good). As movie bios go, Behind the Candelabra doesn't rewrite the book, but it deserves kudos for being able to fashion something emotionally and dramatically compelling out of a personality and public figure who practically dared the world to take him seriously.

Clip from "Behind the Candelabra" (2013) 

BONUS MATERIAL

Seeing is believing: The real Liberace and Scott Thorson, Las Vegas 1981

Opened by Liberace himself in 1979, the no-longer-in-existence Liberace Museum in Las Vegas (it closed in 2013) had several buildings housing a collection of Liberace's performance costumes, automobiles, and pianos (not to mention the biggest rhinestone in the world). Located in a surprisingly unassuming mall just off the Strip, the location also contained Candelabra, Liberace's own restaurant. My partner and I visited it back in 2005 and it was a blast. I've never seen so many mirrors, rhinestones, and candelabras in all my life. You seriously could go glitter-blind in this place. The sheet music adorning the side of the building (below) is one of his performance staples, "The Beer Barrel Polka." 

Copyright © Ken Anderson  2009 - 2016

BOOK REVIEW: The Mommie Dearest Diary

The Mommie Dearest Diary: Carol Ann Tells All   by Rutanya Alda

For worshipers of the enduring camp classic Mommie Dearest (and that’s pretty much all of us, am I right?), actress Rutanya Alda has, for the last couple of years, been something of a battle-scarred, in-the-trenches, cult-film missionary doing the Lord’s work. The Lord in this case being the Great God of Inadvertent Camp. Ms. Alda’s sacred trust: to preserve the legacy and answer the gay community’s clarion call (and make no mistake, the LGBT community is solely responsible for Mommie Dearest not disappearing into oblivion) of “What were they thinking?”

As cult film fans and connoisseurs of delectable camp already know, Rutanya Alda plays Joan Crawford’s devoted, long-suffering, rapidly-aging secretary, Carol Ann, in Mommie Dearest. A now-iconic role in the iconically misguided 1981 biopic which contributed significantly (some might say exclusively) to derailing the A-list career of Oscar-winner Faye Dunaway.

Rutanya Alda as Carol Ann in Mommie Dearest

Alda’s own nearly 50-year career in films encompasses everything from being Mia Farrow’s stand-in in Rosemary’s Baby (and the voice of Dr. Hill’s answering service in that memorably tense phone booth scene); doubling for Barbra Streisand in Hello, Dolly! (and playing the townsperson dressed in Judy Garland's tassled frock from Meet Me in St. Louis); to co-starring opposite Meryl Streep and Robert De Niro in Michael Cimino’s The Deer Hunter. But unlike Dunaway and almost everyone else associated with Mommie Dearest, Alda is actually happy and proud to have been a part of a film once regarded as one of Hollywood’s biggest embarrassments, now a bonafide camp cult classic. She even accepts (with considerable grace and good humor) the fact that in spite of having more than 50 films to her credit, to a great many individuals she is, and always will be, Carol Ann.

Alda’s current status as the unofficial spokesperson for all things Mommie Dearest began in 2013 when she was the guest of honor at a special Mother’s Day screening at San Francisco’s Castro Theater. There she regaled the SRO audience with hilarious “Lived to tell the tale!” anecdotes about the making of Mommie Dearest: a major serious-minded major motion picture upon which many hopes and investments were pinned, held hostage and kept under siege by the demands and off-the-rails ego of its star.

Conceived as a serious dramatic adaptation of Christina Crawford's 1978 bombshell of a tell-all memoir (Dunaway was certain she'd get an Oscar nomination), Mommie Dearest somehow became a quotable high camp comedy by the time it hit the theaters. Every highly-anticipated film that flops engenders a certain level of curiosity (Mommie Dearest was a critical flop, but made lots of money for Paramount...but for all the wrong reason), but the swift and total reversal of Mommie Dearest's fortunes created a great deal of curiosity among fans as to how so many things could go wrong so extravagantly. Alas, nobody was talking. Considerable blame was placed on the screenplay, but the lion's share of the shame spotlight fell on Faye Dunaway and her fiercely committed, brazenly unsubtle performance.

With Dunaway and the rest of the film's cast and crew reluctant to even acknowledge their participation on the project, details about what went into the making of one of the screen's most delectable disasters has largely been nil.
That is until Carol Ann finally broke her silence.

Carol Ann appeared to be on an accelerated aging program. The book explains why

Culled from the personal diary Alda kept throughout the entire ordeal…I mean, filming of Mommie Dearest, these deliciously dishy stories, related with chummy, “Can we talk?” candor,  were the first behind-the-scenes accounts ever to emerge from beneath the cone of silence that seemed to envelope Mommie Dearest after its critically disastrous release. Needless to say, the audience lapped up every gossipy detail.

 As Ms. Alda began making the reading of excerpts from her diary a regular part of her personal appearances celebrating Mommie Dearest, the outpour of interest from fans convinced her to publish them in book form.

Rutanya Alda’s The Mommie Dearest Diary: Carol Ann Tells All was published September 18, 2015 (just a few days shy of the 34^th anniversary of the film's Los Angeles release date of September 25, 1981).
Although I was chomping at the bit to read Alda’s memoir hot off the presses, I nevertheless bided my time and had my prayers answered when I received the book for Christmas. By December 26^th  I’d finished it. Not because the book is so brief (it’s a slim 166 pages) but because it’s that much fun to read. To use a cliché I’m sure that’s been overworked in every review of The Mommie Dearest Diary to date, but I really couldn’t put it down.

The Deer Hunter
Rutanya Alda played Angela, the pregnant bride in Michael Ciimino's 1978 film.
Here she's seen with (l. to r.) Christopher Walken, John Savage, and Meryl Streep

Being a smart woman who knows her audience, Rutanya Alda uses the first third of the book to supply us with only the briefest of personal and professional bio material before getting down to the good stuff. (Biggest personal epiphany: Rutanya Alda is NOT, as I'd always assumed, related to Alan!) Happily, this section proves surprisingly crammed with “good stuff” as well, for once the Latvian-born immigrant embarks on a career as an actress, we’re treated to stories about Alda’s early encounters with the likes of Brian De Palma, Joan Crawford, Robert Altman, Barbra Streisand, and even pre-Mommie Dearest Faye Dunaway. The cumulative effect is the desire for Ms. Alda to later write a more comprehensive autobiography, the span of her career and the many great directors and actors she’s worked with (and slept with) providing a ‘70s enthusiast like me with a vivid glimpse into the New Hollywood as it morphed into blockbutserland

Mommie Dearest opened in September, but by mid-October Paramount realized audiences weren't taking their drama seriously. The studio attempted to capitalize on the film's growing status as a camp cult film by posting this newspaper ad.
The ad was removed after the late producer, Frank Yablans, filed a $10 million lawsuit (a move he later claimed to regret given the unstoppability of the cult and the longevity - and profits - said cult ultimately granted his film).

The actual Mommie Dearest diary begins with Alda’s audition for director Frank Perry (Diary of a Mad Housewife, Last Summer) in December of 1980, and ends on the last day of filming, April of 1981. In between, movie fans are given a rare glimpse into the inner workings of the hurry-up-and-wait world of filmmaking, and Mommie Dearest fans at last get to find out if there was anything going on behind the scenes which could possibly explain - or excuse - wound up on the screen.

What we discover is Dunaway's dedication to her work was complete, if myopic. Her understandable but nevertheless all-encompassing self-concern not exactly jibing with the image Hollywood likes to promote of itself (on award shows) as a collaborative community of artists.

For her part, Alda, dealing with a rocky marriage and her husband's drug addiction, struggles to be a team-player on the set. She keeps quiet as the size of her part is systematically whittled down by a star who envisions the film more as a one-woman show, all while under constant pressure (and repeated warnings) to keep making herself plainer and plainer so as not to distract or draw attention away from Dunaway.

Since the diary was never intended for publication and used primarily as a meditative tool while the author sought to navigate both her troubled marriage and the difficult shoot, there’s a take-no-prisoners directness to Alda’s writing that makes The Mommie Dearest Diary something of a quidnunc’s wet dream. Nobody is spared (including Alda herself), and she leaves it to the reader to decide whether a bit of gossip to big or too small…she just reveals everything (which is exactly what one seeks in a tell all, but so seldom ever gets). In addition, she's also very fair-handed. Dunaway is revealed to be quite gracious and accommodating - when she wants to be.

It's a wonderful read for fans of moviemaking in general (the minutia of per diems, soundtstage etiquette and glimpses of LA in the '80s are a treat [Filmex!]), but a truly marvelous companion piece for fans of Mommie Dearest. In fact, the biggest compliment I can bestow upon The Mommie Dearest Diary is that it reads just like the kind of commentary I wish accompanied the DVD. Should yet another special edition DVD be released, perhaps with a few of the many sequences shot and later excised for time, I hope they enlist Rutanya Alda for the commentary.

Dunaway got future-husband, photographer Terry O'Neill, a producer's credit

I don't want to spoil anyone's fun by revealing anything more about the book, so here's a glimpse of some of the things you'll find out, some of the questions that will be answered, and a few tips on what to keep a lookout for:

I'll Be There For You - Except When It's Time To Feed You Lines For Your Closeup

What is the "Clear Away Club" and Who Were its Members?

The Hospital Scene: Who's Line is it, Anyway?

Did Carol Ann Skip The Wedding?

Who Designed This Dress? Dont' Axe!

Crawford gives hardworking Carol Ann an Opportunity to Put Her Feet Up

Dunaway and O'Neill Play "I 've Got A Secret"

(S)he Who Gets Slapped...three times, yet

Tonight's Episode: "Shear Dedication" or "Hacking at Hobel"

If you pick up The Mommie Dearest Diary: Carol Ann Tells All expecting the kind of dirt to make your hair stand on end, you're likely to be disappointed ( you won't discover anything you don't likely already suspect about La Dunaway, but it's fascinating having it confirmed!).

But if you're like me, a Mommie Dearest fan who has always marveled at the phenomenon of serious-minded films (like Valley of the Dolls, The Oscar) going so grievously astray they transmogrify into something nobody involved could have ever foreseen; then The Mommie Dearest Diary provides some eye-opening insight into the world of high-stakes Hollywood filmmaking.

A world where everybody starts out wanting to do something important, only to wind up compromising, placating egos, cutting corners, and ultimately counting the days waiting for the whole thing to be over.

The Mommie Dearest Diary: Carol Ann Tells All 

Paperback

Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

BONUS MATERIAL
Read  my essay on Mommie Dearest HERE

See Rutanya Alda read her Mommie Dearest Diary at The Castro Theater in S.F. HERE

Read more about Mommie Dearest Diary at Angelman's Place 

"Now imagine you're delivering your 'don't fuck with me fellahs' line straight to the last row of the balcony...."
Faye Dunaway plays nice and lets Frank Perry have his turn directing Mommie Dearest

Copyright © Ken Anderson