You’re so absolutely right about Safe being more Sirkian than Far From Heaven even though the latter borrowed a great deal from Sirk’s 1950s cinemascape. It remains Haynes’ greatest film.Cronenfly wrote:I don't remember enjoying Down With Love that much myself, but here's a fine defense from the Onion A.V. Club. It does assume that the film is loving homage rather than sneering condescension, however, and invoking The Good German and Far From Heaven in doing so does little for me personally, as I abhor both of those movies. In fact, I would go so far as to say that Far From Heaven is a much more appropriate target for scorn than Down With Love, as I felt Haynes' approach there was much more elitist/smug (unintentionally or not) with regards to its Sirkian source material. Haynes may be Sirk's biggest fan outside of Fassbinder, but in making everything that's implicit in Sirk so thuddingly explicit he ruined any value the exercise may have had. Then again, I'm not the biggest fan of Fear Eats the Soul either, but I still feel that movie easily outperformed Haynes' on every level. Safe is a much more successful picture in melding a Sirk-style woman's picture with concerns obviously closer to Haynes' chest. I just can't see why he made such a leaden, misguided museum piece like Heaven after Safe, but perhaps working on a smaller scale was more beneficial to his artistry than his larger productions as of late (that is, if you see a marked decline in his work from Safe onwards like I do). I know that this doesn't make me out to be much of a Haynes fan, but I still have hope that he can make another movie on the level of Poison or Safe (even Velvet Goldmine would more than suffice).
I remembering admiring Far From Heaven mainly for its dizzyingly gorgeous colors, evoking shadowy moods so perfectly, so painterly and Julianne Moore’s impeccable performance. I admit I was left sobbing after the finale dissolved into cherry blossoms – it was that damn silent farewell at the train station and the lilac scarf against the dead-of-the-winter grayness that cracked my tear ducts. Haynes’ handling of the “gay bomb” was interesting but Sirk’s was tons more in Magnificent Obsession and what I think is the greatest American film ever made, All That Heaven Allows. Revisiting the latter recently, I found another one of the many surreal signs of the film’s gay overtones: “All I see is a good-looking set of muscles!” from one man to another. Am I the only one whose heart melt every time Jane Wyman let loose at that party with Rock Hudson? And the kisses they exchange there while the autumn leaves blowing across the glass ceilings? Great great movie, that one.
)
