As I wrote in my review of Suspiria (1977; # 173), films often succeed with an audience because in some way they remind that audience of other enjoyable filmic experiences. While some films succeed solely because of their originality, most movies that do well at the box office or build a significant home video following do so because viewers believe they will like them based on their apparent similarity to other films which they’ve enjoyed. This is not only the basis of genre convention (for those who like Noirs or Westerns), but also the reason that the star system prevailed, nay flourished, even after the studio system was dead and gone. Producers realized early on that putting actors that audiences already liked into leading roles would garner bigger box office returns. This is why Tom Cruise still makes $20 Million a movie, despite not having turned in a decent performance in almost ten years. It is also the reason most people go to the movies; not to see plots, cinematography, editing or set design that they like, but to see actors that they love.
As a result of this profit-driven, actor-oriented system Cruise has worked with the absolute A-list of directors from the past half century. Scorsese, Coppola, Kubrick, Stone, Spielberg and P. T. Anderson all realized that with him involved in their projects, studios were willing to expand their budgets. Now consider that the elitist film snob scoffs at this entire premise, preferring mostly the films’ of the directors (other than Coppola) listed above which were sans big budgets, and certainly sans Cruise. The cinefile instead chooses movies to see based on the auteur theory, which can and has been explained in a number of lengthy books, but basically boils down to this: a film is not about what it’s about, it’s about who directed it. I understand that choosing to see a film based on who directed it seems about as pathetic as choosing based on eye candy or gritty tough guy appeal, but we film elitists have to have something to distinguish ourselves from the masses who enjoyed 300 (2006). Most of us are under- or overweight social misfits who desperately cling to this difference as if it were some sort of a badge of honor anyway, so why not do it proudly.
Whew…now that I have that out of the way:
What I liked about Barbara Loden’s Wanda (1970) was that indeed it did remind me of so many other films that I’ve enjoyed. Some critics might argue that begging comparison to other pictures is a bad thing for any movie, but isn’t comparison what all critics are supposed to be doing? You stand movies up against those that are known to be great and see if they are up to snuff. In the case of Wanda, three other road films from the 1970s, all of which are listed in the 1001 canon, came to mind.
Five Easy Pieces (1970) was released the same year as Wanda and the two feel to me so much like companion pieces; the opposite sides of a coin commemorating a strange time in American history. No decade before or since hit American culture like the 1960s. And when it was over, there was deafening thud. The Altamont incident and the Kent State Massacre proved that giving peace a chance just might get you killed, and many of those who tuned in, turned on, and dropped out found emptiness when they reached their center. Movies soon followed suit. The characters at the center of both Five Easy Pieces and Wanda lead empty lives. One is a chauvinist slacker, the other a woman who appears to care for nothing at all. Both shirk responsibility and hit the road in search of nothing in particular. In a way, they both find it.
Badlands (1973) is the romanticized version of Wanda, and most women who would hope to find someone such as the Martin Sheen of the former out on the back roads of America, would be far more likely to meet the Michael Higgins of the latter. It is a superior film to Wanda, mostly due to the Sheen performance, but the two would make an excellent double Bill.
Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974) is not high on my personal favorites list of Scorsese pictures, but much like Wanda it is a film about a woman at the end of her rope who decides to leave everything she knows behind. The similarities between the two characters end there, but the message of female empowerment, though understated by Loden in Wanda, echoes through both movies. I’ve always found it ironic that this theme was ascribed to Alice, as in the end it proves to be rather conventional in its values, but I’m reminded now that in the early 1970s a single woman even trying to subside without a man was still a novel concept to some.
The comparison between Wanda and these three films is likely to be challenged by some readers. This is fine. They are simply the movies I thought of while viewing a picture worth seeing in its own right. However, I do feel that one more comparison is necessary. Loden was the wife of director Elia Kazan from 1968 until her death (at age 48) at the hands of cancer in 1980. Wanda was her lone feature but in some ways speaks volumes about the types of characters she and Kazan were drawn to. His best films were always those about individuals living on the fringes of society. Dock workers and pool hall patrons were his fare. Based on this work it’s fair to say that Loden held the same sympathies for those trapped on society’s edges.
Grade: 2 Hats Off
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