This is not a film about Greta Garbo, and La Garbo isn't in the movie, not really. Moreover, from a writer's perspective, Greta Garbo could have been any quest that we seek with sincerity and purity of intention. But in this case it is Garbo, and her mystique permeates this film through her haunting absence, which lends Garbo Talks its beautiful sense of longing.
Anne Bancroft gives a tour de force performance as the dying mother who never stops championing her causes, and wishes only one thing; to meet Garbo before she dies. Ron Silver is her put upon son who sacrifices everything, including his marriage to a hilariously unsympathetic Carrie Fisher to give his mother her dying wish.
Hermione Gingold is utterly side splitting as one of the improbable steps in young Gilbert's search for the elusive Garbo. Harvey Fierstein is brilliant in his understated portrayal of a gay man Gilbert meets on the ferry to Fire Island, where he hopes to find Garbo at her retreat.
Garbo is played by the incomparable Betty Comden, seven time Tony Award winning composer who co-wrote such classics as Singin' in the Rain, Auntie Mame, Bells are Ringing, and the Barkley's of Broadway.
There is a scene, late in the movie, where Bancroft is delivering a soliloquy, which stands as one of my favorite moments in film. Sally Field should have given her Oscar that year to Bancroft. It is only then, in her emotional epiphany, that Ms. Bancroft reveals the delicate yet powerful theme of the film. It was never about Garbo. She was merely a symbol of the quest to find a unifying thread that gives meaning to a life remembered. The buildup may be tauntingly slow, but the payoff is astounding.
Why do I love this movie? It's about a feeling, a mood, a tone, owing in large part to Sidney Lumet's light yet masterful touch. The lyrical pace and the glorious ending are movie art, floating as gentle as a cloud above the din of its heavy handed contemporaries.
