Login
Can a movie be a must-see viewing experience without actually being good in any demonstrable level? Yes, and this phenomenon is practically the reason we have midnight movies and cult classics. I present you with The Legend of Lylah Clare, a hodge-podge narrative of corrosive Hollywood dreams.
Echoing Sunset Boulevard, Vertigo, and Rebecca most prominently, and lacking all of the wit, poetry, and warped beauty of those films, The Legend of Lylah Clare tells the story of a naïve starlet cast in a biographical film of a tragic actress, only to be possessed by her spirit. Or is she just bonkers? In the end, it doesn’t even matter as the film presents this as a possible major story beat only to forget about it halfway through.
Lylah Clare is consistently fascinating in its layers of terrible choices and confounding performances. Initially director Robert Aldrich was thrilled with casting Kim Novak in the title role, and on paper it seems like a perfect match for her. Once again, Novak gets to play a dual role, but unlike in prior films, she’s clearly unenthused with the material and commits the strangest performance of her career to this film.
Novak alternates between enjoying herself speaking with a ridiculous accent (is it supposed to be Italian? I’m not sure what it is, but it’s fascinating), and sleepwalking through the rest of the film. The Legend of Lylah Clare continues with subjecting Novak to scenes of undress and sexual objectification, and while she’s lovely to look at, she’s palpably uncomfortable in more sexually aggressive moments. Like the film around her, Novak is awful but completely fascinating.
Lylah Clare populates its supporting players with European chic players and sturdy character actors. Ernest Borgnine and Peter Finch chew the scenery as insider Hollywood types, while Carol Browne and Valentina Cortese radiate glamour and mystique but are asked for little else. The wildest supporting player is clearly Rossella Falk as the lesbian housekeeper who was in love with Lylah, addicted to heroin, and too eager to take care of the new starlet being remade in Lylah’s specter.
All of these various players are grotesque cartoons, with not a viable or believable person to be found among them. This grotesque, near burlesque tone continues throughout until it culminates in one of the more bizarre endings of any film I’ve ever seen. It takes the phrase “dog eat dog” quite literally, and feels like the perfect piece of “what the fuck” imagery to send us out on. I’m not sure it’s good in any conventional sense, but my god if Lylah Clare isn't absolutely worth a watch.
