“Baby Doll” (1956)
One of Kazan’s most controversial movies and one of his most compulsively watchable, this slice of Southern-fried intrigue (written, at least in part, by Tennessee Williams, and based on his one-act play), filmed in silky black and white, features Carroll Baker as the titular Baby Doll, a 19-year-old virgin bride who, at the stroke of her 20th birthday, has to give it up to her slovenly husband Archie (Karl Malden). Archie’s plantation, Fox Tails, is in dire straits, and in a shocking sequence early in the movie he sneaks away in the middle of the night and burns down the cotton gin of a successful local competitor named Vacarro (played by a spry Eli Wallach). Unable to convince local authorities to investigate Archie, he instead visits the plantation and starts to squeeze Baby Doll for information, with his advances eventually becoming more sexual in nature. “Baby Doll” is startlingly frank in its depiction of sexuality (or lack thereof – a whole sequence which borders on sexual assault is never actually seen by the camera), with the iconic image of Baker lounging in a crib, in a tiny nightgown (a style that would later be known as the “baby doll”), her thumb shoved in her mouth, just as evocative of youth and sexuality as anything in Stanley Kubrick‘s more widely discussed, similarly themed “Lolita.” The Roman Catholic National Legion of Decency condemned the film, which nonetheless was nominated for four Academy Awards and five Golden Globes (Kazan won the Best Director prize). A surprisingly progressive piece that only occasionally veers into outright camp, “Baby Doll” still remains highly influential, particularly in the work of filmmaker Craig Brewer, whose underrated “Black Snake Moan” is hugely indebted, tackling young sexuality head on while also weaving in between comedy and drama. [B+]
“Wild River” (1960)
Easily one of Kazan’s most overlooked movies, “Wild River” is also one of his best. Characteristically delicate, intimate, frank, and filled with a raw longing, ‘River’ features terrific and poignant performances by Montgomery Clift and Lee Remick. The fourth film of Clift’s post-accident career — his Brando-like trajectory was derailed by a disfiguring car accident that has been referred to as the “longest suicide in Hollywood history” because of the trauma sustained and the substance abuse that followed — it’s also one of his finest. Clift stars as Chuck Glover, an idealistic Authority Agent sent to oversee the completion of a River Dam in the 1930s Tennessee Valley. Glover must evict tenants of an area that’s doomed to be flooded, but they don’t want to leave, and he also encounters opposition caused by the racial politics of hiring black workers. Forced to evict an old woman (Jo Van Fleet) from her home, his job becomes deeply complicated when he falls in love with her daughter (Remick). Passionate, uncomfortable as a raw nerve in spots, and featuring a romance charged with an intense hunger, “Wild River” is melodrama, but a sumptuously performed and photographed one, carefully realized by its sensitively attuned and empathic director. [A-]
“Splendor in the Grass” (1961)
An even more frank depiction of sexuality and desire than “Baby Doll,” with far less kitsch and more color (literally), “Splendor in the Grass” is a sort of small town American high school epic (at two hours +, it has the runtime to prove it). Set in Kansas just before the Great Depression, it stars an absolutely radiant Natalie Wood as Deanie, a high school girl dealing with her sexual desire for her boyfriend Bud (Warren Beatty in his first role – he even gets an “introducing” credit). At first the movie plays its small town prudishness for uneasy laughs, like when Deanie’s mother describes the fact that she never had sex until her wedding night and even then it wasn’t pleasant (“Women aren’t supposed to enjoy those things”), but things become more intense and dramatic as the movie rolls along. A whole spectrum of female sexuality is depicted with an utter realism that nearly borders on actively feminist – Bud’s sister (Barbara Loden) is a wild free spirit who is contained to the house because of her loose morals (it’s local gossip that she’s even had an abortion), and Deanie’s repressed desires end up literally driving her mad. When the movie’s second half veers into darker territory, including attempted suicide, rape, and institutionalization, the movie’s effervescent fizz is definitely deflated. Still, its scope is admirable, especially when it pushes historical and social tropes, and it features an all-time great Pat Hingle performance as Ace’s father (we love his speech about sending Ace to Yale – “Trust me, trust me, trust me”). Kazan’s work here is delicate and nuanced, and it still seems kind of shocking that a prominent movie about the evils of abstinence was made in 1961. [B]
