brief candles: Jean Seberg (1938-1979)

   From the Journals of Jean Seberg [videorecording (DVD)]; directed by Mark Rappaport. New York, NY: Kino Classics, 2022. Originally released as a motion picture in 1995. Performers: Mary Beth Hurt, Jean Seberg. Bonus features: Becoming Anita Ekberg; Debra Paget, For Example; Anna/Nana/Nana/Anna.
   Summary: an illuminating exploration of legendary actress Jean Seberg. Mary Beth Hurt portrays Seberg, who reflects on her life as illustrated through her work. It follows her as she is plucked from obscurity to star in Otto Preminger's Saint Joan (1957), to the critical drubbing that followed, her resurrection as a star in Godard's Breathless (1960), the mostly mediocre movies that followed in the 1960s and 1970s, through to her death, probably by suicide, in 1979. A revelatory interrogation of film history, and women's place in it, that examines Seberg’s involvement with the Black Panther Movement and her targeting by the FBI, while also touching on the careers of Jane Fonda, Vanessa Redgrave, and Clint Eastwood.
 

    Only vaguely do I remember first hearing about Jean Seberg. A long time ago it was, four decades or so to be exact. As I recall my source was a news item around the time of her death. I didn’t know who she was but the story said she was an actress and there was some kind of connection to the FBI, or was it the CIA? Immediately my curiosity kicked in. Not so surprising given the historical context: these were the immediate post-Watergate years, when anything even resembling conspiracies got hot press. In any case a whiff of skulduggery floated in the ether. Later I learned she was an American actress who spent much of her career in France, and that her signal contribution to the movies was being an important figure in the Nouvelle Vague movement that was all the rage in the early Sixties, and still is with some critics and connoisseurs. Still, I knew I had to learn more about this lady, and what’s more, investigate her signature movie, Breathless (more about Breathless later).   
    But as the fellow said, I begin to digress. I’m not sure what there is about Jean Seberg that haunts the memory and makes her such a cult figure [1]. Certainly there have been movie stars and famous persons in other walks of life who died young and haven’t cast anywhere near as long a shadow or have such a mystique. But, and for whatever reason, Seberg is special. Indeed she is nudging for a place in the pop culture pantheon of brief candles, alongside the likes of James Dean, Jean Harlow, Jim Morrison, Marilyn, those whose untimely demise, combined with their dramatic private lives (and sometimes dramatic deaths), stir the imagination. To be sure, in comparison with the above-mentioned luminaries, Seberg is still more of a niche cult figure, if I may be forgiven the redundancy of using ‘niche’ and ‘cult’ in the same sentence.
    And yet, much as I’m an admirer of Seberg’s acting and her courageous stands on issues, not at all fashionable at the time (at least with certain official sources), I count myself a bit of a contrarian, i.e. a (non)admirer of her most famous role, that of the gamine journalist and Jean-Paul Belmondo girlfriend in Breathless. Or to be more precise, not an admirer of the film itself. Actually I think she’s pretty good in it. Historically important, check. Hand-held camera, check. Made Seberg, Belmondo and Godard international stars, check. Heralded the New Wave movement, check. But far more to the point, is it any good? Maybe I’m just not hip enough to appreciate Breathless’s apparent charms, but I’m with those who don’t see a lot of intrinsic value in the movie. Euro arthouse films that came out at about the same time and are much superior, in my opinion, include: La Dolce Vita, Last Year at Marienbad, La Notte, 81/2, Elevator to the Gallows, and L’Avventura, to cite just a few notable examples. For me Breathless simply hasn’t held up very well over time. Revered as a classic today, who can predict how Breathless will be viewed in, say, thirty years? As is always the case, history will be the final judge. 
    
    With her edgy, matter-of-fact delivery of director Mark Rappaport’s brittle script for From the Journals, Mary Beth Hurt eloquently captures the nuances of an older, wiser Seberg. Her incisive portrayal indeed rings true. By the way, a curious coincidence is that, like Seberg herself, Mary Beth Hurt grew up in Marshalltown, Iowa.

    A word about the title: actually there aren’t any ‘journals of Jean Seberg.’ This is strictly a fictionalized memoir. But like mythology, the basic message is based on a kernel, sometimes a large kernel, of truth. Still, the reality is that Jean Seberg kept no diary, left us no scandalous autobiography, and didn’t live long enough to star in horror films in the twilight of her career, or appear at fan conventions to hand out autographed glossies. However, in fairness it seems she was, relatively speaking, a willing and forthcoming interview subject.  
    In summary, From the Journals of Jean Seberg is a fascinating, illuminating, occasionally frustrating exploration of one of the most tragically compelling figures in cinema’s checkered history, and probably captures the real woman as well as any depiction is likely to do [2]. On balance a sympathetic portrait of its subject, From the Journals nonetheless has a sharp edge that pulls few punches: the film industry, the culture of celebrity, and political persecution all receive their share of criticism. Considering Jean Seberg was hounded to suicide by her own government [3], seldom given the roles to showcase her talent [4], and had a knack for picking the wrong husbands, both onscreen and off, she had a right to be cranky, even from beyond the grave.

    [1] At last count there were eight biographies, as well as various online tributes, fan pages and exposés. And, for the moment anyway, Breathless's place in the cinematic pantheon seems secure.
    [2] I confess I haven’t seen the much more recent and much praised straight on documentary Jean Seberg: Actress, Activist, Icon, or the recent feature Seberg starring Kristen Stewart. 
    [3] Her death was officially ruled a probable suicide but there remain lingering suspicions of the possibility of foul play.
    [4] It’s a further measure of the existential unfairness of the universe that Jean Seberg’s best performance was as the schizophrenic mental patient in Lilith, a film that bombed at the box office and languishes in obscurity today, while the aesthetically dubious (to put it generously) Airport was her biggest hit, though hers was a small part. The final icing on the cake insult is that Birds in Peru, probably her worst film, today enjoys minor cult status, in large part because of its continuing lack of availability, in any format.

Gothic noir: Cry Wolf (1947)

    Cry Wolf (motion picture: 1947). Henry Blanke, producer; directed by Peter Godfrey; screenplay by Catherine Turney. United States, Warner Bros. Pictures Inc., 1947. Warner Home Video, 2010. From the novel by Marjorie Carleton. Art director, Carl Jules Weyl; music, Franz Waxman; musical director, Leo F. Forbstein; cameraman, Carl Guthrie; editor, Folmer Blangsted.
    Performers: Barbara Stanwyck (Sandra Marshall); Errol Flynn (Mark Caldwell); Geraldine Brooks (Julie Demarest); Richard Basehart (James Demarest); Jerome Cowan (Senator Caldwell); John Ridgely (Jackson Laidell); Patricia White (Angela); Rory Mallinson (Becket); Helene Thimig (Marta); Paul Stanton (Davenport); Barry Bernard (Roberts).
    Summary: Recently widowed Sandra Demarest arrives at the isolated home of her late husband for his wake, but his uncle Mark Caldwell will not allow her to view the corpse. In a grudging gesture of hospitality Mark allows Sandra to stay at the house, but Sandra and Mark are suspicious of each other. Adding to the mix is Mark’s neurotic niece, who also resides in the house and takes a liking to Sandra. Mysterious happenings and dramatic events gradually ensue.

  [editor's note: minor SPOILERS in the comments below].

    An under-the radar diamond in the rough, Cry Wolf is the only film Barbara Stanwyck and Errol Flynn appeared in together. Flynn and La Stanwyck head a strong cast that includes Helen Thimig, Richard Basehart, Jerome Cowan, a very young Patricia Barry, and, in her first film, Geraldine Brooks. I’d never heard of director Peter Godfrey but he had the noirish touch and keeps the story moving apace. Godfrey is ably assisted by composer Franz Waxman and especially cameraman Carl Guthrie, whose atmospheric cinematography bathes things in a sinister overlay. Borrowing huge swaths of Jane Eyre, Rebecca and even Gaslight, Cry Wolf is pretty much composed of equal parts drawing room melodrama, quasi-noir and old dark house thriller. Flynn is cast against type as the brooding head of a well-to-do New England family and he underplays the role nicely, projecting a combination of Eyre’s Rochester and Rebecca’s Maxim de Winter.

    But this is Stanwyck’s movie all the way. She radiates courage, vulnerably, and just plain, eminently Stanwyckian, bad ass grit and determination, and along the way she manages several athletic and equestrian scenes with equal aplomb. There’s not much romantic spark between her and Flynn [1], and their anti-chemistry actually suits the characters and story rather well. By contrast she shows much more chemistry with ingenue Geraldine Brooks [2].

    Cry Wolf received mixed reviews from critics and was not a big hit at the box office despite its unmistakable star power. One explanation: times, and tastes, were changing, and the Gothic thriller was becoming passé. Another factor was that audiences simply couldn’t accept Errol Flynn as the villain, which he (more or less) is here. Still, the film has aged well. Maybe not a perfect production, and only marginally noir, Cry Wolf nonetheless is expert storytelling served up in old school Golden Age style showcasing two screen legends performing at the peak of their powers. Recommended.

   [1] Information is scarce as to how well Flynn and Stanwyck got along on the set, but I understand there was some friction. An interesting aside: it's been a few years since I've read Flynn's autobiography My Wicked, Wicked Ways, but I don't recall that he ever mentioned either Stanwyck or Cry Wolf. We shouldn't make too much of Stanwyck's absence, however; there were plenty of films he did and persons he worked with that Flynn didn't include specifically in Wicked Ways.   

   [2] Am I way off mark or is there a hovering Sapphic undercurrent present in the scenes that Stanwyck and Brooks appear in together? Admittedly I may be guilty of conflating character and actor: i.e. relying too much on gossip I’ve read about Stanwyck’s inclinations, which, to be fair, have never been proved, but on the other hand, have never been disproved either.* Interesting this interpretation, because in the context of the story it’s the Brooks character who seems to have a crush on Stanwyck and not the other way around. Aside: their simpatico relationship onscreen in Cry Wolf is somewhat surprising in view of Brooks' later comments that Stanwyck treated her coldly on the set.
    In any event, the two women’s connection is further underscored by a theme Waxman inserts practically every time they are together. The melodic contour is suspiciously similar to a passage from the ‘Liebesnacht’ from Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde. Was this pure coincidence or perhaps an unconscious tell on the composer’s part? Alas, we’ll never know. By the way, the instrumental colorings and harmonic shadings Waxman employs throughout Cry Wolf have overtones, if you’ll pardon the term, of his score for Rebecca, not altogether inapropos given the two films’ distinctly similar vibe.
    As for the Mark character, I’ve read comments that suggest he’s coded gay. True, he’s unmarried, and there’s no mention of a former wife or current girlfriend. But this take is somewhat undercut by his attempted seduction of Barbara. Somewhat caddishly, he explains to her that his kiss was purely ‘scientific’ in nature, and it all earns him a well deserved slap. Sleazy character that he may be, as the film progresses Barbara seems to be falling for Mark, and when Richard Basehart accuses her of being in love with him, she doesn’t deny it. Mark’s feelings for Barbara are more ambiguous; aside from the kiss, he shows no romantic tendencies in her direction. The murky, truncated ending holds out the promise of a romantic future for the two, but it’s hardly a sure thing. Watching the film it never occurred to me that the Flynn character might be gay: Flynn’s screen persona was so swashbucklingly straight, to say nothing of his roguish private life, that the idea never seemed a possibility.
 

       * An ironic footnote to cinematic history and the Stanwyck oeuvre is that she was one of the first actresses to portray a, albeit somewhat toned down, lesbian character in a mainstream Hollywood film. In Walk on the Wild Side (1962), she plays a brothel madam who has an ‘unnatural’ attachment to her star employee, the enigmatic Capucine.