A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Sunday, September 15, 2019

Susan and God (George Cukor, 1940)


Susan and God (George Cukor, 1940)

Cast: Joan Crawford, Fredric March, Ruth Hussey, John Carroll, Rita Hayworth, Nigel Bruce, Bruce Cabot, Rose Hobart, Rita Quigley, Constance Collier, Richard Crane, Norma Mitchell, Marjorie Main, Aldrich Bowker. Screenplay: Anita Loos, based on a play by Rachel Crothers. Cinematography: Robert H. Planck. Art direction: Cedric Gibbons, Randall Duell. Film editing: William H. Terhune. Music: Herbert Stothart.

I have no hesitation in calling Joan Crawford one of the greatest film actresses of the studio era, and there's a moment in Susan and God that fully justifies my opinion. It comes at the turning point when Crawford's character, Susan Trexel, realizes how much harm her giddy self-absorption has done to her husband and daughter. In only a few seconds, surprise, guilt, and shame cross her face, and without mugging or emoting, Crawford gives each thought and emotion its due. But the moment also reveals how out of place in this sentimental comedy Crawford is: She was made for melodrama, not for frivolity, which is what the role chiefly calls upon her for. Through much of the movie, Crawford seems to be copying Rosalind Russell's performance in The Women, the movie she made with Russell and director George Cukor a year before Susan and God. In The Women, Russell played the nitwit socialite that Crawford is expected to play in Susan and God. But Susan Trexel lies outside of Crawford's established tough-as-nails persona -- which she played on to perfection in The Women -- and the later film suffers from it. It also suffers from a rather scattered script, too stuffed with secondary characters, and from a general confusion about exactly what kind of "god" Susan has found -- apparently a kind of self-help feel-good cult. Cukor keeps things moving nicely, and there are good moments from supporting players like Ruth Hussey and Marjorie Main, but it's easy to see why the film was a flop at the box office.