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Two Faced Woman

Posted : 9 years, 4 months ago on 7 January 2015 01:58

A Womanā€™s Face is a trashy, pseudo-horror movie like film but one presented as an A-picture melodrama. Iā€™ve watched A Womanā€™s Face five times as of writing this review and gets better every time I watch it. Within the last year, Iā€™ve felt the motivation to watch the film three times, something which is almost unheard of for me; this movie is that good. Iā€™ve now decided, screw it, this is my favourite Joan Crawford film and considering thereā€™s tough competition from Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, Mildred Pierce and The Women, thatā€™s saying a lot.

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Every major cast member in A Womanā€™s Face is superb. I know that sounds like a generalization but itā€™s true. Firstly thereā€™s Conrad Veidt as Torsten Barring. I adore every second this man is on screen; heā€™s just so delightfully sinister but in the most absorbingly charming manner - Iā€™m swept off my feet by his presence. I can completely buy into the romance he shares with Anna Holm (Crawford) because he looks past her facial disfigurement and is unbothered by it. Melvyn Douglas is the other great charmer of the cast, whom Iā€™ve yet to see paired with an actress who he didnā€™t share great chemistry. Ossa Massen, Reginald Owen, Albert Bassermann, Marjorie Main (unrecognisable here) and Donald Meek are also all equally memorable and stand in the strong characterisations of their roles. Likewise on re-watching look out for the moments of foreshadowing (ā€œYou love children? I loathe themā€).

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Then thereā€™s Crawford herself in a once in a lifetime role as a facially disfigured woman, a part few actresses would be prepared to play. Her character of Anna Holm only engages in deceitful acts because of societyā€™s mistreatment of her since childhood but is otherwise good at heart. Anna tries to make the best for herself and doesnā€™t dwell into a victimhood complex (ā€œI donā€™t care for pity etherā€); she runs her own tavern, pursues different talents and less virtuously is involved in criminality. Regardless throughout the film my heart pours out for the poor woman and yet even with the disfigurement I still find Crawford to be incredibly beautiful in this film, nor does the disfigurement ever take away from the asset that is her stunning body. If anything the moment in which Anna returns from a shopping trip and is wearing a very excessive blouse to take attention away from her face is the one moment in the film in which her character comes off to me as pathetic sight.

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A Womanā€™s Face is one of the few thrillers George Cukor directed with echoes of Hitchcock throughout, such as the shots of the smelter plant and a waterfall in the background (similar to the scenery in films such as Foreign Correspondent), to the filmā€™s suspenseful scenes such as that atop the cable car. This sequence itself is absent of any music, simply allowing the sound of the nearby waterfall and the smelter plant increase the tension while the filmā€™s climax, on the other hand, offers a sort of Ben-Hur on sleds finale. Since I consider this film far superior to Hitchcockā€™s thriller offering that year of Suspicion, Cukor out Hitchcocked Hitchcock. With Cukor being one of the great masters of his trade, the cinematography of A Womanā€™s Face is a feast for the eyes. Technically speaking, the scenes at the hospital and Annaā€™s subsequent unbandaging are my favourite part of the film. Along with A Womanā€™s Face and the 1934 medical drama Men In White, it makes me wonder if itā€™s just me or do medical interiors and apparatuses make for some of the best subjects to capture on film.

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Being a remake of a Swedish film, thereā€™s something somewhat unconventional about A Womanā€™s Face for a Hollywood film. The movie does manage to capture the essence of its Northern European setting (despite much of the cast supporting American accents) and offers a slice of Swedish culture with its dancing sequence.

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I consider 1941 to be the greatest year in the history of cinema. The output of this single year is the jealous vain of entire decades and A Womanā€™s Face just adds to this. Melodrama seems to have a bad reputation for no good reason. Like many things, it can be done well and done poorly. A Womanā€™s Face represents the old Hollywood melodrama tailored to perfection.



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A Woman's Face

Posted : 12 years, 5 months ago on 28 November 2011 04:00

Joan Crawford was a movie star who radiated a sense of authority, she was more overtly masculine than most of her male co-stars. Hers was an indomitable will and personality that was not going to back off for anyone or anything. And there was always the barely concealed rage. She was often a frothing, rabid uncaged animal that was ready to pounce on the first object to come into its line of vision. And it seems so obvious that much of this was a mask for a neediness and vulnerability. She was bound and determined to be loved, adored and to succeed, at any and all costs.

A Womanā€™s Face externalizes her interior wounds and psychological scars in a horrible disfigurement on the right side of her face. And George Cukor effectively reigns her in, makes her frequently drop the glamorous suffering and movie star posturing that marked much of her work. What we are left with is a performance thatā€™s vulnerable and gives a context to her desperate neediness, rage and overtly masculine compensation tics. (Until she gets her face restored, and some of Crawfordā€™s melodramatic tics come roaring right back.)

The first half of A Womanā€™s Face is, by a wide margin, the more successful film. The second half feels like a totally separate film with the flimsiest of connective tissue between them. In the first half, Crawford plays a woman who has allowed her disfigurement to turn her self-worth into a wilting flower. And itā€™s this sense of wilting and rotting in her that causes her to take that anger out on the world. Because of the gaping emotional wounds inside of her psyche, she has become a blackmailer and a criminal. Her slanted hat or a cascade of ebony hair to hide her scar proves to be her armor.

In the second half, Melvyn Douglas plays the plastic surgeon who fixes her face, restoring her beauty and wondering what he has unleashed. Now that her face has been cured, so has all of the rot and rabid animal ferocity within her character as well? She awakens from her makeover deciding that sheā€™s now a good person and wants a fresh start as a governess. The problem here isnā€™t that her character wants to remake her life, thatā€™s a given, itā€™s that the anger is no longer there. Itā€™s during this section that Cukor loses some of his stranglehold on Crawfordā€™s performance and she indulges in her worst mannerisms and lazy shorthand.

In small doses, like when Conrad Veidt, playing his character like a poisonous snake slowly toying with Crawford before going in for the kill, tries to get her to murder the child sheā€™s in charge of, she unleashes. But thereā€™s never a moment when weā€™re satisfactorily told or allowed to enter into her emotional terrain. Sheā€™s finally been granted a chance to look normal, and how does this new physical appearance affect her psychologically? Does she recognize herself?

But itā€™s still mostly successful as an examination of one of Cukorā€™s favorite themes: the exterior and interior coming into direct conflict. The first half is a must-see, and one wishes that they had followed through with that filmā€™s promise. The second half is just a well-made melodramatic Crawford star vehicle. And extra praise should be given to Cukor for wringing such a nuanced and melancholic performance out of Crawford, truly this is one of her best. Possibly even better than what her fans consider her holy trinity -- Mildred Pierce, Possessed and Humoresque.


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