Loving Highsmith (not Loving her Documentary)

This is just a reminder Patricia Highsmith also wrote books. It will be important to keep that in mind during this documentary, because it relentlessly focuses on the private life she wanted to keep private. As a result, Highsmith most likely would have been horrified by Eva Vitija’s Loving Highsmith, which opens Friday at Film Forum.

Throughout her life, Highsmith kept journals she did not want other people to read. In fact, she wrote large notes at the beginning of later journals emphasizing what she wrote within was for her eyes only. Vitija excerpts those diaries extensively throughout Loving Highsmith.

For the first six years of her life, Highsmith lived with her grandmother in Texas and consequently always retained some sense of being a Southerner. In fact, you can somewhat see a Flannery O’Connor sensibility in her work, especially in regards to the dark side of human nature. The Texas relatives Vitija interviews seem relatively accepting of her sexuality, but they are still a bit surprised when the filmmaker informs them Highsmith once had a fling with her cousin.

Highsmith made her name with Strangers on a Train, but Hitchcock is only mentioned in passing. However, the novel Carol (a.k.a. The Price of Salt) is discussed at length, because of its lesbian themes. There is a bit of discussion of Tom Ripley, her signature anti-hero, but a great deal of that centers on the fourth book, The Boy Who Followed Ripley, because it was partially shaped by one of her own romantic relationships.

Loving Highsmith will make viewers miss the Formalist school of literary criticism, which held it did not matter who or what an author might be. The only valid question was whether the book was any good. Instead, it is clear Vitija is only documenting Highsmith because of her sexuality. Her work is of secondary importance.

That is a shame, because Highsmith is a hugely significant writer, who arguably transcends genre. She has inspired filmmakers like Hitchcock, Claude Chabrol, Claude Miller, Rene Clement, Wim Wenders, Todd Haynes, and even Sam Fuller (who helmed an episode of the Chillers anthology, based on her short stories). Indeed, the most interesting sequences are those in which Highsmith explains her books are not really about crime or murder, but the feeling of guilt, or the absence thereof.

Tribeca ’16: A Kind of Murder

Detective Corby assumes Mitchell Kimmel is an early 1960s Scott Peterson and he is probably right. He also assumes the same thing about Walter Stackhouse, but the mystery-writing architect is more of a Walter Mitty than a Bluebeard. Unfortunately, he will make every possible mistake to attract suspicion in Andy Goddard’s A Kind of Murder, which screens during the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Stackhouse is indeed the title character of Patricia Highsmith’s The Blunderer. He ought to know better, since he has just had his second crime story published in a magazine—not that his wife Clara cares. Constantly scoldy but also prone to jealous delusions, she is difficult to live with. Poor Stackhouse dutifully intervenes during her latest suicide attempt, but he is not so sure he will do so the next time, especially after he meets the pretty and emotionally stable Ellie Briess.

For professional and perhaps also personal reasons, Stackhouse develops a fascination with the murder of Kimmel’s wife. It seems entirely possible the sleazy independent bookstore owner faked an alibi, in order to murder the woman during her intercity bus’s layover at a rest stop. He even ventures out to Kimmel’s store, but finds the proprietor rather unsavory. Acting on impulse, Stackhouse similarly stalks his own wife while she is on the same bus, but she rather inconveniently throws herself off a bridge before he can find her. At least, that is Stackhouse’s story, but the way he parses it out in piecemeal fashion will cast him in a decidedly guilty light.

A Kind of Murder is a blandly prosaic title compared to The Blunderer, but the film itself is wonderfully stylish Hitchcockian take on the early Mad Men era. Patrick Wilson is actually quite a good fit for the guilt-ridden and morally compromised Walter Stackhouse, while Jessica Biel makes an appropriately hot mess as the high-strung Clara Stackhouse. However, Eddie Marsan steals the show as the sociopathic Kimmel, which probably shouldn’t surprise anyone. Unfortunately, Vincent Kartheiser lacks the presence and heft to give Det. Corby any sense of menace. He is more like a Colombo who thinks he is a Dirty Harry.

Production designer Pete Zumba, costume designer Sarah Mae Burton, and the entire design team have crafted a wonderfully inviting period production, which cinematographer Chris Seager gives an uber-noir sheen. It is just a pleasure for genre fans to dive into this stylized New York that probably never really was. Goddard keeps the elements working in concert, fully capitalizing on the rich bourgeoisie trappings and Highsmith’s subversive motifs. Recommended with enthusiasm for thriller fans, A Kind of Murder screens again tonight (4/19) and Thursday (4/21), as part of this year’s Tribeca.

NYFF ’15: Carol

Ironically, one of the most literarily significant lesbian novels of the pre-Stonewall era was written (pseudonymously) by a notorious anti-Semitic mystery and suspense novelist. Yes, the same difficult mind that created the talented Tom Ripley also gave birth to Carol Aird. Journey back to Manhattan in the early 1950s, when Madison Avenue wasn’t so mad yet. Lesbianism might have been a love that dared not say its name, but the sophisticated Aird is still not one to mince words in Carol (trailer here), Todd Haynes’ adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s The Price of Salt, which screens as a Main Slate selection of the 53rd New York Film Festival.

Therese Belivet is a mousy but proper young woman working in a Manhattan department store, while secretly harboring ambitions of a photography career. When assisting Carol Aird schedule a delivery, she is quite taken by the older woman, in an uncertain kind of way. After she haltingly reaches out to Aird, she is surprised and pleased when Aird reaches back. Soon, they are spending more and more ambiguous time together. However, the development of their relationship is complicated by Aird’s messy divorce proceedings with her future ex, Harge, who still refuses to let go. (With a name like Harge Aird, he must be Ivy League, possibly even a future CIA director.)

In order to win her back, Harge is willing to play dirty. That includes calling out Aird’s past fling with Abby Gerhard, her childhood friend and now platonic confidant. Feeling overwhelmed by the tawdriness of it all, Aird packs up Belivet for an impulsive road trip. Naturally, further complications will ensue.

Cineastes generally get Haynes’ affinity for the era and its attendant angsts, but the quality of Carol’s period details are still impressive in their seamless accuracy. As we see, this is a time that predates the LP, when music stores stocked ten inch records in brown paper sleeves. The film also has the good taste to prominently feature Billie Holiday’s rendition of “Easy Living,” recorded with the great Teddy Wilson. In fact, Holiday is a rather fitting choice, given the film’s themes. However, it should also be noted the uncharacteristically lush orchestral score is one of Carter Burwell’s best.

Carol looks great and sounds great it is not quite the instant classic some represent it to be. Despite the breathless plaudits it has generated, there is something rather affected about Cate Blanchett’s performance as Aird. Instead of truly submerging herself into the character, she looks and sounds like she is doing Aird as if played by Joan Crawford or Rosalind Russell. Still, who wouldn’t like to see either of them dig into such a juicy role?

In contrast, Rooney Mara delves inward for an unusually brittle and disciplined turn. You would half expect her to shatter if she tipped over. However, Sarah Paulson steals scene after scene as the earthy, no-nonsense Gerhard, while Kyle Chandler manages to humanize square old Harge remarkably well.

As a recreation of the 1950s, Carol is richly realized, but it is less convincing as a relationship drama. Nevertheless, it takes viewers to a specific time and place, where it duly scores it points. Earning a moderate recommendation for its technical merits, Carol screens tomorrow (10/9) and Saturday (10/10) at Alice Tully Hall, as part of this year’s NYFF.

Two Faces of January: The Somewhat Talented Mr. MacFarland

He is an American veteran with a considerably younger wife and a flexible conscience. He cuts a Don Draper-like figure, but Patricia Highsmith’s anti-hero was created during the Mad Men era. The Greek coppers are no match for Chester MacFarland, but an under-achieving Ivy Leaguer will be a more formidable rival in Hossein Amini’s adaptation of The Two Faces of January (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Although he shares a clear kinship with the talented Tom Ripley, MacFarland lacks his literary cousin’s long-term strategic thinking. After bilking his investors, including some rather “connected” gentlemen, with a Ponzi scheme, MacFarland has blithely embarked on a European tour with his young wife, Collette. He seems to embody all the financial security and mature masculinity she always needed, yet something about their scruffy American tour guide Rydal Keener catches her eye. There is no question about Keener’s attraction to the trophy wife, but he is also struck by MacFarland’s eerie resemblance to his recently deceased father.

After a fateful night of sightseeing and boozing, MacFarland is confronted by a private detective representing his dodgy former clients. As the discussion gets heated, a struggle ensues, during which MacFarland accidentally kills the flatfoot. In full panic mood, the swindler flees the hotel with Collette, leaving their passports behind. As international fugitives, they now engage Keener as their guide through the Southern European underworld. The circumstances have changed, but three is still an awkward crowd.

January is truly a lushly crafted film, luxuriating in its exotic locales and natty costumes. Veteran Dogme cinematographer Marcel Zyskind proves to be surprisingly adept at the sun-bathed noir look, capitalizing on all the striking Mediterranean backdrops. Production designer Michael Carlin and costumer Steven Noble also recreate the look and feel of 1962 in rich detail. In fact, it is a technically accomplished film in every respect.

Nonetheless, Highsmith’s slim novel still feels rather undernourished on-screen. Frankly, some of Hossein’s deviations from the source material undermine the film’s dramatic credibility. Killing a police officer is serious business in any country, but it is hard to believe a Yankee with a suitcase full of cash couldn’t bribe his way out of trouble with a dead American P.I. in early 1960’s Greece.

Regardless, Viggo Mortensen might have been born to play MacFarland, subtly hinting at all the neuroses the strong, silent anti-hero is bluffing over. Frankly, Mortensen’s powerfully understated performance and the tilt of Hossein’s screenplay complete stack the deck against poor Keener and Collette, no matter who was filling their shoes. Indeed, it would be hard to understand why the younger man is so bewitched by the pale, dull Kirsten Dunst, but Oscar Isaac’s Keener is equally empty.

Fortunately, villains (and anti-heroes) are always more important than their dullard antagonists in any film noir. Between the lovely sights and Mortensen’s smart, sophisticated work, January manages to offer enough to fans of literary thrillers looking for a fix. Recommended on balance, The Two Faces of January opens this Friday (9/26) in New York at the Landmark Sunshine and the AMC Empire.