Come le foglie al vento

What can you say about "Written on the Wind," other than this is where the

genre of overproduced, inane Hollywood melodramas teeters into the realm of

genuine art. Every aspect of this highly artificial concoction is fully realized, an amazing example of the whole becoming far more than the sum of its parts.

Elements that are, considered separately, laughable (the abundance of

Freudian symbols, the hyperrealistic colors, the over-the-top acting, the gushy soundtrack) all strangely combine into a hypnotically watchable masterpiece. Clearly there's a genuine artist (director Douglas Sirk) at work here -- someone who can take all the usually misused contents of the 1950s Hollywood big

studio toolbox and create an astonishing work of art.

Mitch Wayne comes from a working family, but his childhood friendship with the children of oil magnate Hadley sees him continuing within the family and the family business as an adult. Kyle is his best friend, but is a spoilt playboy as a result of his money and privilege. When the two meet Lucy, they both fall for her but, as usual, it is Kyle that gets her attention and quickly marries her. Lucy joins the family home to find a spiteful and spoilt daughter, Marylee, who dislikes her but longs for the childish affection she still holds for Mitch. Against a background of money and privilege, tensions and emotions build between the friends and family.

Normally when I call something melodramatic it is a criticism but for those looking for melodrama that is well delivered then often Douglas Sirk is as good a place to look as any. This film is a fine example but I'll be the first to admit that the plot summary on paper does make it sound like the soapiest load of daytime TV filler ever! However the delivery is everything and the film succeeds in making the story and characters engaging. It is hard to describe well, but the story doesn't really happen in reality but rather in a sort of melodrama world of high emotions and I didn't expect it to draw me in. Part of the reason it did was down to Sirk's writing and direction. He creates this convincing world where everyone fits in and it all seems real.

Of course of the biggest factors is the cast, for it is starry and impressive. I've never been that taken by Hudson but he is a sturdy and manly lead actor here, even if he has the less showy material to work with. Bacall is strong and controls a great deal of the emotional core of the film. The main melodramatic flair comes from two other good performances. It was hard for me to get past the Stack I know from Airplane but he is very good here and descends well across the film. Likewise Malone plays her character well. As with many Sirk films, the cinematography, the look, of the film is important and this one expertly captures the feel of the fifties but doesn't look dated in a bad way – it still feels quite fresh and lively.

Overall this is a melodrama and if the very thought of that puts you off then you'd best avoid it. However it is a fine story that engages well even as it exists above reality. The cast are impressive with their material and are a big part of making it convincing and engaging.

It is ironic that during the '50s, when Douglas Sirk was at his most successful in terms of audience appeal, he was virtually ignored by the critics… He is now seen, however, as a director of formidable intellect who achieved his best work in melodrama…

"Written on the Wind" is about the downfall of a Texan oil dynasty surrounded by worthless reputation, alcoholism, and nymphomania… It is about the twisted, fatal connections between sex, power, and money...

Stack draws a compelling portrait of a tormented drunken destroyed by frustration, arrogance, jealousy, insanity, and some deep insecurities…

Dorothy Malone succeeds as an attractive woman with an excessive sexual appetites, degrading herself for Hudson and to other fellows in town… Her best line: "I'm filthy." In one frantic scene, we see her shaking, quivering and sweating to a provocative mambo… In another weeping alone over a model oil-derrick at her father's desk—symbol of excessive wealth and masculine tyranny…

The frenetic atmosphere is both made palatable and intensified by Sirk's magnificent use of colors, lights, and careful use of mirrors

Channel-surfing earlier today I was passing the A.M.C. site and there was "Written on the Wind" already underway. I'd seen it during its first-run theatrical release (and not since) and was mildly surprised to observe how vividly I recalled its unfolding.

I rarely submit to watching anything on A.M.C. these days because this once watchable venue has deteriorated into nothing more than a merciless marketplace. Strings of commercials endlessly interrupt every broadcast; virtually all films are shown "formatted" to fill non-widescreen TVs (A.M.C. frequently showed widescreen films in letterboxed broadcasts in the past but not anymore, with the recent exception, I noticed, of a Bruce Lee martial arts festival, of all things!); and then there are A.M.C.'s promotions for its upcoming schedule which are usually outrageously, stupidly silly (and boringly repeated ad nauseum). That said... (once more, I might add...)

This luridly Technicolored "triumph of trash" (not photographed in CinemaScope at a time when that process was Hollywood's way of luring us from our home black-and-white boob tubes) again grabbed me with the same stupefied amazement that fascinated me as a comparatively sheltered young teenager. Douglas Sirk's subversively manipulative direction, Russell Metty's opulent cinematography, the eye-filling and fairly luxurious art direction, and the turgidly expressive musical score all add up to what "over the top" really means. And the cast, assembled with an eye to populating this fantasy with near-godlike creatures (even the African American servants at the Hadley mansion are played by handsome and elegantly capable actors) was a cut above those assigned to most of the Universal-International product of that era.

It was surely Dorothy Malone's finest hour and her supporting actress Oscar was a popular choice among her peers and with the audiences of the day. Robert Stack, before he became such an ossified stiff in the years that followed, deservedly earned his own supporting actor Academy Award nomination. Rock Hudson hadn't yet managed to show his mettle as an actor of some range, though his performance in "Giant" released about the same time gave him a better opportunity to escape the oft-repeated complaint that he was "wooden" and nothing more than a slab of beef(cake). Lauren Bacall, though, was credible as an object of desire for two rivals and her soigne presence was a nice counterpoint to Malone's well-heeled tramp.

All in all this kind of moviemaking is rarely attempted today and the presumed tastes of today's audiences would, were a story like this mounted with a suitable budget and an equivalent cast, most likely be swamped with a degree of tastelessness that would be much less palatable than this example of Sirk's mastery of melodrama was when it was released. It's the cinema equivalent of those new calorie-laden ice cream treats that the dietary watchdogs are so assiduously warning us about now, but I doubt that it's as deleterious for our mental and emotional health. Sure hope not, 'cause I savored every frame!

I had the pleasure of seeing this lurid chunk of celluloid camp on television last night. It's a candy-bright trash-o-rama about a secretary (Lauren Bacall) who marries into a filthy rich oil family only to find a more general kind of filth under the gloss of privilege and public respectability.

Oddly enough, both Bacall (usually the epitome of strength and gravity) and Rock Hudson are given fairly bland roles, always remaining above the hideously dysfunctional quagmire that surrounds them. They're too "good" to be very interesting. The characters at the opposite end of the spectrum are what keep our attention. Once soaked in alcohol, a pre-Unsolved Mysteries Robert Stack is immensely entertaining as tormented, pistol-waving Kyle, upset over his inability to conceive the children needed to complete the little American Nightmare in rich-people hell.

However, this decidedly cracked soap is dominated by Dorothy Malone as Marylee, the boozed-up, fast-driving slut with the temperament of your average cobra. Malone won a well-deserved Oscar for her astonishing, one-of-a-kind performance--all bulging eyes and twitching lips, like a drag queen in heat, spewing acid at the other members of the cast. From her wild mambo of death (!) to fondling a model oil derrick (!!!), she is a hilarious delight. Aren't the bad girls always more interesting? Other reviews talk about her being "reformed" at the end. I, personally, did not see that. Yeah, she's upset...but with someone like Marylee, how long is that gonna last?

Later parodied by John Waters's Polyester, Written on the Wind is a seamy, steamy don't-miss. In gorgeously saturated Technicolor.