HAYWIRE

HAYWIRE. Brooke Hayward. Originally published in 1977; updated 2011. Random House.

Brooke Hayward is the daughter of actress Margaret Sullavan and agent-turned-producer Leland Hayward. This memoir looks not so much at those two individuals, but at how their interactions affected Ms. Hayward and her brother and sister. Sullavan and the narcissistic Hayward divorced after the latter had an affair while she was out of town working oversea for months, and it left lasting scars, especially on Sullavan, who felt abandoned by her children when they went to live with their father. Both of the parents remarried.

Instead of a probing look at the parents, two interesting individuals, whatever their flaws, with seriously important careers, we mostly get the ruminations of their daughter, which at times become quite tedious in this lengthy if occasionally absorbing memoir, although, to be fair, she does a fair job of analyzing them at times. Although the author tries very hard to portray her family as some kind of dynasty, and their story as an epic tragedy, this doesn't quite work, and she seems oblivious to the fact that marital problems, suicides, mental health issues etc. also afflict people in tenements. In fact, entitlement screams at you from every page. Oddly, Ms. Hayward barely goes into her marriages to Dennis Hopper or Peter Duchin (son of Eddy Duchin), although that might have been of some interest to the reader. Despite the rave reviews (Ms. Hayward had connections, after all), I imagine many readers got tired of slogging through the book in search of juicy material. Another problem is that the book is poorly organized, jumping around in time when a linear narrative would have worked much better.

Ms. Hayward also ignores her career, although there wasn't much to it. Although she was rather amateurish appearing opposite Jerry Orbach in the film Mad Dog Coll, she displayed real ability in the Twilight Zone episode "The Masks." She only amassed 12 credits, however. She also had a brief modeling career although her looks were average.

If you actually want to read a biography of the great Margaret Sullavan, I recommend Margaret Sullavan, Child by Fate by Lawrence J. Quirk.

Verdict: Well-written but seriously flawed memoir. **1/2. 

BLACK WIDOW (1987)

Theresa Russell

BLACK WIDOW (1987). Director: Bob Rafelson.

Catharine (Theresa Russell) has made a career of marrying and murdering a number of wealthy men, and has gotten away with it. However, a Justice Department employee named Alexandra (Debra Winger) thinks she has uncovered Catharine's deadly game and bucks her superiors to go after the woman. People think that Alexandra has become obsessed. Catharine takes on various identities as she pursues her victims, and Alexandra eventually does the same, relocating to Hawaii under an assumed name so she can finally meet and even bond with her prey. Now it's a battle of wits and it's hard to tell who will win out in the end. Black Widow is a very entertaining picture with good performances -- Russell is especially effective -- even if Rafelson's direction is pedestrian and the score mediocre. The movie resembles a somewhat more expensive Lifetime crime thriller. Homoerotic undertones in the "relationship" between the two women go unexplored and seem unnecessary anyway. D. W. Moffett, Terry O'Quinn, Rutyana Alda, Dennis Hopper, Lois Smith, Nicole Williamson, Sami Frey, and Diane Ladd all have supporting parts, but the stand-out in the cast is James Hong as the lazy and amusing private eye, Shin. Cher was offered the role of Catharine but turned it down, which is good because Russell was more suited to the role. One wishes that we got to know a bit more about Alexandra, but perhaps the point was that she had no real life outside of her work. Nowadays the two leading ladies of this film, who are in their sixties, do mostly television work. Not to be confused with The Black Widow serial of 1947 (not that it would be!), or the 1954 Black Widow with Ginger Rogers, among others.

Verdict: This lacks real bite and intensity but it has a good plot and some very good acting. ***.

QUEEN OF BLOOD

The very odd Florence Marley as a sinister queen

QUEEN OF BLOOD (aka Planet of Blood/1966 ) Writer/director: Curtis Harrington.

Using footage from a foreign space epic or two for FX shots, Curtis Harrington [What's the Matter with Helen?] fashioned this quaint horror-sci-fi tale using some American actors and Czech-born Florence Marley. Astronauts Alan Brenner (John Saxon), Laura James (Judi Meredith) and Paul  Grant (Dennis Hopper), among others, fly to pick up an alien visitor who has landed on the wrong moon. The visitor is a silent, spooky, weird alien queen (perfectly cast Marley) with green skin, an acorn hairdo, and a certain strict diet that Dracula could empathize with. Before long the crew find themselves fighting off her unwelcome advances. Queen of Blood is disjointed, but eventually it becomes modestly entertaining. Basil Rathbone plays a doctor who seems more fascinated by Marley's appetite than appalled. The actors do the best they can, considering what they have to work with. Meredith was the princess in Jack the Giant Killer. Now and then you'll hear some of Ronald Stein's music from Attack of the 50 Foot Woman.

Verdict: Okay, but no It, the Terror from Beyond Space. **1/2.

GIANT

Elizabeth Taylor and James Dean

GIANT (1956). Director: George Stevens.

Texas rancher Jordan "Bick" Benedict (Rock Hudson) marries the feisty, independent-minded Leslie (Elizabeth Taylor) and comes to realize that meek compliance is not in her nature. Meanwhile, the arrogant, slouching ranch hand Jett Rink (James Dean) discovers oil on the property left to him by Benedict's sister, Luz (Mercedes McCambridge) and is soon even wealthier than Jordan, leading to various complications and a couple of fight scenes. This long, sprawling saga is entertaining for the most part, and features one of Taylor's best performances. Hudson isn't the best casting, but he isn't bad, and the odd Dean makes a minor impression as well. Giant is not really a masterpiece, but it does have some good scenes: the Benedict children discovering that their Thanksgiving dinner is their pet turkey; Leslie telling off the men who think women have no place in politics; Angel (Sal Mineo) "coming home" from WW2. The other cast members include Carolyn Craig (House on Haunted Hill) as Leslie's younger sister; Rod[ney] Taylor as her cast-off suitor, who later on marries said sister; Carroll Baker as Leslie's daughter [in her second film and first big role]; Chill Wills as Uncle Bawley; Dennis Hopper as the Benedict son, Jordy, who, like his mother, has a mind of his own; Elsa Cardenas as Jordy's Mexican wife; and Earl Holliman as Bob, the husband of the youngest Benedict daughter, Judy (Fran Bennett). Of the supporting players, Hopper and McCambridge provide the most vivid performances. Giant has an admirable sub-text on the evils of racism -- both Benedict and Rink are prejudiced against the "wetbacks" -- but this might have had more impact if the Mexican characters, such as Angel, were developed a lot more.

Verdict: Long, but generally sustains interest, and -- surprisingly -- Taylor is the glue holding it all together. ***.

THE HOT SPOT

THE HOT SPOT (1990). Director: Dennis Hopper.

"I'm f--king you to death, George."

A drifter named Harry Madox (Don Johnson) comes into a sleepy town, gets a job as a car salesman, and winds up bedding his boss, George's, wife (Virginia Madsen) as well as romancing a 19-year-old clerk in the office (Jennifer Connelly). Johnson and Madsen make a sexy duo, there are bank robberies, steamy sex scenes, beatings and murders -- and a lot of jealousy -- but while the picture holds the attention, it never really amounts to much. There's no real sense of time or place, the characters are vague or simply unlikable, the plot [based on the 1951 novel "Hell Hath No Fury"] is old-fashioned, and both the acting and pacing are rather too languid, although Madsen isn't bad and William Sadler nearly steals the picture as the sleazy blackmailer, Sutton. Some gay material that may have been inserted into the picture to make it seem more modern only makes it even more dated.

Verdict: Perhaps more fog than steam. **

EASY RIDERS, RAGING BULLS

EASY RIDERS, RAGING BULLS: How the Sex-Drugs-and-Rock 'n' Roll Generation Saved Hollywood. Peter Biskind. Simon and Schuster; 1998.

To the sub-title of this book could have been added the words “and destroyed themselves in the process.” This excellent book studies the lives and works of the major directors who came into their own in the seventies and afterward, when directors and not the studios seemed to become the prime power in Hollywood. The directors – Francis Ford Coppola, George Lucas, William Friedkin, Martin Scorsese, Hal Ashby, Bob Rafelson, Peter Bogdanovich, Robert Altman and others – are depicted as being just as egomaniacal and domineering as any movie star – in fact, they come off as a bunch of major assholes. Biskind chronicles how Dennis Hopper's Easy Rider began a youthquake in Hollywood that tried to capture the waning audience by making films that were hip and irreverent, full of sex, drugs and violence, and once in a while achieved quality. It also documents how many of the decade's most famous directors imploded on their own egos and self-destructed on drugs and alcohol. [In one of the book's funniest anecdotes we learn how Dennis Hopper stopped mixing his gallon of rum a day -- he also imbibed several beers and consumed drugs daily -- with coca cola and switched to rum and cranberry juice because he thought it would be healthier for his liver!] Directors such as Friedkin and Bogdanovich became so successful so soon that they believed their own publicity and thought there was no production that was beyond them, no idea they couldn't turn into a money-making Oscar contender [boy, were they wrong!]. Some of the people give very frank interviews to Biskind, and – surprisingly – put the blame squarely where it belongs – on themselves. Just about everybody agrees that most of today's movies – sequels, prequels, remakes, and big-screen adaptations of awful old TV shows -- stink.

Verdict: A riveting read. ***1/2.