WHEN HOLLYWOOD GETS IT RIGHT

by Melodie Johnson Howe

I saw a trailer on TV about the remaking of Mildred Pierce to be released in spring as a five part mini-series on HBO. My heart sank, my stomach dropped, my chest tightened, my lips drew back, my heart, even though it had already sunk, now raced as I screamed, “Nooooooo, don’t do it.” But obviously they already had because I was watching them tell me how wonderful and creative this new film will be. And much closer to the book! But the movie, Joan Crawford’s movie, was better than the book. My apologies to James M. Cain, but sometimes Hollywood gets it right!

Again Hollywood can’t let be what they got right in the first place so they do a remake. The cast for the remake is filled with fine actors. But Kate Winslet is no Joan Crawford. Those are some shoulders to fill. In the beginning of the trailer Kate’s Mildred looks a little downtrodden. Joan’s Mildred was desperate for money but she was never downtrodden. Kate will have to prove to me that she can open a string of restaurants by selling her pies and greasy chicken. And James Pearce sporting a bushy mustache does not look like he “ . . . came from a long line of gypsies.” Zackary Scott did. And who can match the snappy one liners from Eve Arden’s Ida?

The actress who plays Veda, though beautiful, does not have the hard edges to her beauty that Ann Blyth had. Ann and Joan looked like mother and daughter. They shared an intensity of two determined women with the same strengths. One for good, one for destruction. I didn’t see a resemblance between Kate Winslet and Evan Rachel Wood, who plays Veda. Or that shared strength. But I am rushing and screaming to judgment.

One of the trailers opens with a voice over saying something like “ . . . in a time when women didn’t work.” (Meaning in the thirties.) Really? I think women worked very hard back then. Can you imagine a trailer for the original movie saying that? It makes me nervous. Joan is rolling over in her grave. In the black and white version, Veda ends up singing in Wally Fay’s (Jack Carson) dive while wearing a hula skirt. Okay, they had to deal with a morals code back then. In the remake, which is true to the book, Veda is an opera singer. (I always thought this was an odd choice Cain made for Veda’s character.)

Lip synching opera is a difficult task in a movie and if the actress is not right on she will make the audience’s toes curl. The one improvement promises to be the part of Mrs. Binderhof. Poor Mrs. Binderhof in the original was the only mistress in history that was more prim than a nun. But looking at these trailers what worries me most is that the costumes look like they are wearing the actors. This does not bode well.

Despite my bitching I’ll watch this mini series with a tiny bit of hope. And try not to notice Joan Crawford’s shadow looming over it adjusting her shoulder pads.

James M. Cain wrote a novella or very short novel called Sinful Woman about a Sheriff and a movie star thrown together to solve a crime. It is intentionally light and wonderful. I don’t think it has even been made into a movie. It would make a good one. And nobody has done it as far as I know. Now that I’m writing about Sinful Woman, I want to reread it.

Watching this preview of portending failure (did I just write that?) I was reminded of other movies that were better than their books. My apologies to another great writer, Dashiell Hammett, but the movie, The Thin Man, was better than the book. The novel was a good mystery. But Hammett’s Nick and Nora were drunks. Drunks aren’t that funny or charming unless of course they’re played by William Powell and Myrna Loy. I have not read the book in a long time, but I remember the depressing weight of a major drinking problem connecting Nick and Nora more than love or solving crime. Because the drinking was unexplored it left a pall over the book.

Another movie that was better than the book was Laura. I’m sorry Vera Caspary, but it’s true. As with the other two movies I mentioned, it is the literate script and the casting along with David Raskin’s lilting score that makes this film endure. Clifton Webb was cuttingly inspired and thin compared to Caspary’s vilian who was fat and not so witty.

L.A. Confidential was better than James Elroy’s book. The screenwriters took a wonderful sprawling over-the-top saga and tamed it into a smart script. James Pearce was great in this movie. And Kevin Spacey was brilliant , as was his death scene. And the actors wore their fifties costumes as if they belonged in them.

When Hollywood gets it right there is nothing more entertaining and satisfying. Maybe this remake of Mildred Pierce will come close. But . . .