Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres.
Hey, it's it's good enough for Gaul and Caesar, it's good enough for Barbara Taylor Bradford.
Emma Harte est omnis divisa in partes tres.
We've seen A Woman of Substance. Now it's time for the second part of the Emma Harte saga. If Bradford is not as flashy as Danielle Steele, as giddily head-scratching as Judith Krantz or as blissfully wild as Jackie Collins, she does have a certain loopy authority and gravitas in her writing and "Hold the Dream" clings to that seriousness as tightly as possible, following the lead set by "A Woman of Substance." That can be construed as taste, but it can also be construed as boring.
I guess "A Woman of Substance" was a big enough hit that by the time "Hold the Dream" was made, slumming vets signed up in droves.
Jenny Seagrove gets a morning call from Granny Deborah Kerr (whose slumming days ended here, since this was her last credit, but she still has her skills fully intact, not that she needs even 10% of them). There's a big deal that would have the company Deborah started buying another one, and Deborah wants to make sure Jenny handles the negotiations properly. Indeed, she's as steely as the old lady, playing such hardball that one of the current owners snaps, "they're all vultures." Jenny's tactics put the kibosh on the takeover, but when she reports this to Deborah, it seems Deborah had set this all up, shrewd-though-poorly-dressed matron that she is.
We are introduced to a few more of Deborah's grandchildren and relatives to get the plot started, but at the onset, they are all interchangeable, except, of course, miniseries expert Stephen Collins, who is secretly in love with Jenny. Also around is Liam Neeson, Deborah's oldest friend, done up here with a frightful white beard and a voice that sounds like he's chewing rocks.
Deborah senses her time running the empire is ending and one by one, people are lining up to either screw her over or share in the spoils. Worst of all the hangers-on is Claire Bloom, Deborah's daughter, who is bitter that Deborah sacrificed motherhood for her career. Deborah tries to mend fences, but Claire is unmoved. Her son is getting divorced because he's in love with one of another of the brood. This is news to Claire, though she does caustically note that, "you always wanted one of the Harte girls to marry a title." Deborah slips into and Olivia de Havilland-style softness of speech, but it doesn't work. Claire is hard and unyielding.
Liam is responsible for getting Deborah to a surprise 80th birthday party, and after some reminiscing and kind words, she accuses him of being as "full of the blarney as ever." Liam's grandson Stephen is there, introduced him to Fiona Fullerton, obviously an American just by the way she dresses. Jenny is upset that her husband isn't there, always putting his newspaper career first. Everyone there has a plan. Dominic Jephcott, one of Deborah's grandsons, is bent on revenge and hooked onto Nicholas Farrell, whose company was supposed to be bought before Jenny ruined the deal (and this Nicholas and his father). Stephen is in love with Jenny, but it's a secret. Claire cozies up to her son Paul Geoffrey and his mistress, obviously trying to debunk whatever Deborah is hoping to get from Paul's divorce. However, when his wife shows up spitting mad, it creates a bit of a scene.
The dancing starts with an idiotic synthesizer or something, and when asked what dance she'll dance, Deborah answers for everyone who has ever hated fad music, "I'm waiting for the waltzes." Deborah then sees Stephen mooning over Jenny and even Fiona notices it. In fact, it's the talk of the dance floor.
There are a cake, candles, a large cake knife and then Liam is requested to speak for all the assembled about Deborah, though it's relatively painless. After all, this movie has crammed more plot into the first half hour than one would think possible, so no one gets more than a few sentences at any one time. Deborah then speaks, drawing on that well of old-style training that netted her half a dozen or so Oscar nominations (no wins, sadly). The big surprise is that Deborah is going to cede the empire to the grandchildren so she and Liam can take a cruise around the world. An in-law is put in charge of the whole shebang, and even he seems shocked. Jenny gets the department stores. "I challenge you to hold my dream," Deborah coos.
Later on, Jenny's husband Nigel Havers is, as he always seems to be, upset. He feels she shouldn't be working, just a wife and mother. Some extremely unseemly and gross kissing ends the conversation, but Jenny refuses to let this discussion fall away to sexual interruption. At the same time, Stephen and Fiona are going at it, but even she can tell he's not thinking of her. Fiona, angry at Stephen, stands up naked and asks, "what makes you keep coming back to me bed all the time, all hot and bothered and raring to go, when the one you really want is" Jenny. Hopefully this is Fiona's final scene, because she's pretty darn awful.
The corn factor zooms off the charts when Deborah shows up at Liam's and he gives her an engagement ring he had bought decades earlier, but didn't use because he thought she was too good for him (if you remember from "A Woman of Substance," she was a maid-turned-zillionaire, and he knows that, so it's a rather silly idea. She wants it. "Are we finally engaged?" she asks. "Let's just say we're engaged to be closest of companions for the rest of our lives." There's an awkward kiss, if only because Deborah is very old and, under the make-up and hair, Liam is soooooo much younger. As we've been waiting for the whole time, Liam clutches his arm and then his chest, the surefire cinematic hint of a heart attack. They have just enough time to admit their love for each other before he expires and she's left to cry her way to award nominations. "I'm the last one," a pale Deborah tells her granddaughters as she looks at all the headstones in the cemetery.
After feeding her twins in a silk shirt that any new mother would know not to wear, Jenny has to go take care of her third child, her husband, who announces glumly he has resigned from the company, because "I've never like administrative work, I'm not good at it." It takes not only a scene in the living room, then in the dining room, two places he can knock back the booze. Jenny is not happy at this turn of events, but once again, Nigel placates her physically, in a joyless strangely neutered sex scene.
As second high-volume scene is next, a typical soap scene where the Paul's jilted ex-wife shows up at the family manse, drunk, and accosts her husband and his new gal, Sara-Jane Varley, yet another member of the family. The wife staggers out to her car (yup, her car) and gives her Medea-like portents of doom. Just so we don't think everyone is fond of high decibel yelling, there's a scene out of nowhere where Deborah ruminates on the dead of her husband decades ago, staring straight ahead and almost in a catatonic whisper. "Yes, we know, darling," her daughter says, though Jenny sees something is very wrong.
It seems Paul's wife had left, in her car, to do exactly what we expected her to do. Cue the police asking questions about the body and car in the pond. Claire calls Jenny in hysterics, and when Claire informs her that Paul is a suspect in what not may be a drowning, Jenny realizes it could be true, and in a perfect Deborah Kerr imitation (though I don't think it's conscious). "There is nothing to do...just stay calm and leave everything to me," Jenny tells her, whipping the family into their tasks and then calling the newspaper to tell them not to print anything about it. Her family owns the newspaper, so the editor finds it an odd request since the news will be everywhere else. Jenny is becoming a steely savvy woman with every passing (boring) scene. She next takes on Sara-Jane, who wants to go be with Paul. Jenny puts the kibosh on that and naturally, Sara-Jane listens.
Not impressed is Nigel, who rushes off to Jenny to scold her for threatening the editor at the newspaper he runs. Jenny reminds him that Deborah owns the paper and has given her Power of Attorney. That's news to her hubby.
In NYC, cousin/son/uncle/brother/ Valentine Pelka visits with Stephen, who is building a grand edifice. Stephen is upset Jenny has to take control, though Valentine says it's because "she's the strong one." Or has the biggest shoulder pads. Naturally, Stephen wants to be with her, but can't.
Jonathan and Nicholas are forever plotting, doing everything but laughing over a cauldron filled with little children to prove how evil they are. Jenny sees them and tells one of the female cousins (if you can keep track of them, good for you, I can't) she thinks she has one of Deborah's "cold feelings," puts her hand on her chin and then we know she's about to enter smarter-than-everyone mode. As if we haven't the last gazillion scenes establishing Jenny as a younger Deborah, when she gets news from Texas that a family oil tanker in trouble, naturally she makes sure that "all the families are taken care of." When Jenny tells Deborah (who is showing her character's slow decline by now adopting a crooked spine and a really bad wig, Deborah is at first sad, but then fiery, demanding to know what is being done about the oil spill.
On the phone with her man in Texas, Jenny pontificates, "there are only four things that are important: the injured men, their families, the wildlife and the good name" of the company. Bravo, heroine, you have hart (or Harte, the company that must have the good name intact). But, we've known that in literally every scene for longer than anyone can remember. When she tells Nigel she has to go to Texas, he kicks up another fuss. He accuses her of becoming her grandmother when fancy psychological terms that aren't real (I tried looking them up). This whopper of a scene finds Nigel admitting he hates Deborah for stuff from the first movie, horrifying Jenny by referred to her new personal as a "cold calculating carbon copy of herself." He almost had perfect alliteration there. Two can play at that game, as she castigates Nigel for marrying her for the "money and power" he knew she would inherit as Deborah's heir.
Naturally, Jenny has to go to New York City, because no one else involved in the oil spill had the smarts to figure out holding a press conference promising no danger would be a good idea. Really, no one.
Enter James Brolin, looking fetching in his beard and tight-fitting suit. He's a banker involved with Stephen's business and now Jenny's. He doesn't know Stephen has the hots for her, so he goes over her assets (as a person), looking to make a move on her, much to Stephen's discomfort. But, this is how Stephen finds out Jenny is in town, sending her a horrid arrangement of violets. Jenny is touched and calls Stephen to make plans. Strangely, when she suggests getting together, he begs off. Ten seconds later, he calls her back (he knows the phone number of where she happens to be) without any aid and decides to say yes to her invitation. He is very standoffish, but Jenny calls him on it and he drops the facade. "It is such a relief to be able to talk to you again," Jenny notes. It's not exactly romantic, but it gives him hope.
Stephen warned Jenny about James, so she is guarded when they meet, but she tramples on him, agreeing only to discuss his offer to buy the oil company they own with Deborah.
Then it's off to Stephen's Connecticut fixer-upper for the weekend. She attends wearing a head band, more shoulder pads than ever and some very fashionable boots. "It has an air of permanence, are you planning to set down roots?" Jenny asks. It takes a local neighbor to inform Jenny that Stephen is in love with her. There she goes with the pensive blank look again, but decides to go with it!
She grabs the wine, a few glasses and stands by the fire so that Stephen knows what she wants. Four hundred violins are helpful too. He walks over to her...
She asks him to sit next to her so she ask Stephen if he's in love with her, since they have been honest with they each other "since we were children." She speaks in a whisper, her way of playing coy, so grab the remote or else you're sunk, though frankly, you know al the words to this conversation already since this scene is in virtually every romance miniseries. They kiss and if Jenny is about as sexy as a plastic chair, Stephen knows how to play this. Mercifully we are spared everything that happens after she unsnaps her bra.
Stephen has a rule, that he never fools around with married women, though he waits until after they have had sex to mention it. They confess their love and mutual desire at the airport before Jenny returns to England. Due to some heavy drinking, Nigel calls Jenny to make dinner plans and then races his sports car to meet her. That leads to our second car accident of the movie, but Nigel survives, barely. Stephen calls, offering to fly to London, knowing full well that Jenny can't exactly leave her husband now, but he understands and agrees to wait.
Time for a trial! We've had every necessary scene to make a miniseries except a trial, so as the second half of the miniseries starts up, Paul is on trial for perhaps having a hand in his wife's death. A maid exonerates Paul, who strides out of the courtroom with his mother, Claire, but not everyone is so convinced justice was perfectly served.
Assuming a "never mix, never worry" type attitude, Nigel is downing bottles of wine and painkillers when Jenny pays a hospital visit. This near-death experience has made him sure the marriage can be saved, but just as Jenny is about to opine differently, the doctor interrupts. The doctor is worried about Nigel's drinking. Frankly, I am too. How does one get wine into a hospital? Come on, that can't be easy! But, the doc tells Jenny that Nigel must stay out of any "stressful" situations and needs a shrink ASAP. That means Jenny can't say anything about the marriage, but that's fine, because Stephen has come to her and all is right in her world. For a few minutes. "We'll be together eventually for the rest of our lives," naive goon Stephen tells Jenny, who knows she can't be with him fully until Nigel is well again.
Accosting Jenny outside her office, David Swift, the father of plotter Nicholas (and Dominic). She prefers to avoid him but he has a convenient attack of...something and gets an invitation to her office, where he gives her some important information and has another of those attacks of...something.
Nigel, scheming on behalf of his long-dead family members, asks Deborah to return him to the position of Managing Director for her company. By using the past as a weapon, he expects Deborah to cave. "I never mix sentiment with business," the matron declares, "but I'm not saying no" and agrees to think about it.
A wedding happens quickly and then it's Christmas, where Deborah and Stephen sing a few lines, but Deborah opts to stay behind while everyone joins the carolers. Then comes what should be a touching scene between twin granite dames, Deborah and Claire. Claire begs for a lifetime of forgiveness and gets it, which we can only assume Deborah ain't gonna be around much longer.
Claire gets sucked into Nigel's plot, without knowing it, and then asks Stephen which of his hotels would be perfect for a "second honeymoon." He then tries to kiss Jenny and she rebuffs him. This leads to yet another argument. "When something's not right, don't be afraid to let it go," Deborah tells a crestfallen Jenny, pushing out every syllable as if one of them will be her last. But, for the second time in ten minutes, she keeps going despite all the clues of imminent demise.
Jenny and Stephen go to the field where they grandparents first fell in love, blah, blah, blah and then they spot Deborah. I'm not sure how she got there, because the only car is the one Jenny and Stephen came in. "Don't stay too long," Jenny warms Deborah, as it's cold out. "No, it's time to go," Deborah says. It this where she croaks? Nope, sorry. Not yet.
Instead, she heads to her department store, where she remembers very little and struggles to get to her office. Clutching a picture of her long-dead husband, she can barely walk or see and falls to the floor, which is where Jenny finds her. Deborah goes into the kind of acting that had died about 40 years earlier as she scoops out every word, telling Jenny "you must hold my dream, but you also have to have your own." That phrase alone takes 12 minutes and whenever one cites the title, it's never a good sign. Deborah's eyes flutter and her head falls back. NOW she's dead. There is still a quarter of the miniseries left, but Deborah's part is done (and, unfortunately, a long and interesting career). A church funeral and some time for the family at the grave are to be expected, as is Jenny, all in black, staring out from the family home as Stephen comes up beside her.
With our vet out of the picture (John Mills doesn't count, since he doesn't get more than a sentence at any given time), we are in the home stretch, but unfortunately, I'm having trouble caring about any of these characters. None of them are any fun and there are just too many of them!
But there is a will reading, by lawyer John Mills (this isn't even slumming, it must be a favor owed to someone) though the contents are no surprise. What is a surprise are five codicils. In the first, she leaves money and a diamond ring from his grandfather to Stephen. Valentine is given money, a house and 35% of a Canadian newspaper. The third codicil gives Nigel only 5%! The other 60% is for Jenny. Lastly, some properties originally promised elsewhere are given to her no-dialogue daughter. That's a problem because Dominic had been counting on selling those properties to prop up the business he has going with Nicholas. He objects, loudly, and is then told he gets to pick two paintings instead. Deborah also prepared for the inevitable squabbling by proving she was of sound mind. The room erupts in childish prattle until Jenny silences the whole family.
Jenny and Papa Paul Daneman figure out that Dominic has a scam going, but they need to prove it, so Paul suggests a real estate sale.
Equally angry, Nigel and Jonathan plot. Nigel wants to sell Dominic his shares, but not in secret. Jonathan insists it be done with the approval of the board.
Ever wonder if love can blossom on a rocking horse? I didn't either, but Stephen and Jenny make out while she's riding one in Liam's old house, where she declares she wants to live with Stephen. Jonathan snakes out of the real estate deal meant to expose his dirty dealings, but Nicholas picks it up, so there is still hope. But, it's not enough to "hang [Dominic] with." Luckily, there is proof to be found, where they can at least "challenge" Dominic.
Nigel wants to "patch up our marriage," with a whole bunch of conditions, but Jenny insists on divorce, even when Nigel threatens to sue for custody of the kids and move to Canada. Papa Paul is a bit more level-headed about the situation, convinced that Nigel will go for "a settlement."
A board meeting is called and Dominic is confronted by the whole family. He tries to weasel out of it, even taking his cousin down with him, but Paul fires him. "I can hire and I can fire. And I'm firing you!" he tells Dominic. Dominic has to be forcibly ejected from the room as he sputters threats. That takes care of a plot that was never interesting, or, at least, at the bottom of the interest pile.
Now we have to deal with Nigel, who will not take money from Papa Paul, but will take the newspapers, the ones he feels were stolen by Deborah from his family. "Once I've got that, I'll start divorce proceedings," Nigel tells Paul, referring to the newspaper shares.
Jenny rushes to the Concorde and Stephen (for another very unsettling sex scene) because she believes Nigel has been taken care of by her father. However, it's not that easy. Since Nigel refuses to wait any longer, he takes Paul in his private plane to Nice. Cue the phone, cue Stephen finding out bad news and steeling Jenny for it, cue Jenny uttering, "no, no, no" at the news that her husband and father were both killed when the plane crashed. There is even some crazy thrashes and mussed hair, with Stephen unable to touch her. In fact, "I can't bear to be touched by anyone," she tells her mother after the funeral.
She boots Stephen because she blames herself for their deaths. "I have my work," she tells Stephen, who reminds her that Deborah also told her to have a dream of her own. "It's a harsh world...there is no time for dreams," she says, robotically (which isn't that different from the way she's acted at any other point, one of the worst-acted leads I can find in a miniseries).
It would be nice if, instead of limping along, we raced to reunite the main lovers, but no, that's just not how it's done here. Fiona returns to the movie after her brief scenes at the beginning, to say goodbye to Stephen, who has decided to move back to England to be near Jenny when she inevitably remembers she needs him. Also back is James Brolin, billed as a "special guest star," but having lazed around his trailer for the last few hours after only two scenes. Fiona and James have had a torrid love affair because Fiona believed James would leave her wife for her and the child they have together. That was never James' intention and he even questions the paternity of the child since he knows she's been hanging out with Stephen (platonically, it turns out).
Why is this of any importance? Because he has the hots for Jenny and their business relationship is rekindled. He still wants her oil stocks, but eventually he does reveal who the secret buyer is. When Jenny informs the oil company board, they are livid and offer her more money. No, but she wants more of a say in the company and they approve her conditions. This infuriates James, whose reputation is on the line about to lose a deal "to a slip of a girl." He gets blotto, so by the time she arrives in an Alexis Colby business suit, he's ready to rape her. They fight for a while, but she kicks him where it counts and is able to escape. Why toss a rape scene in when we should be wrapping up? Take a wild guess! You don't need me to tell you.
But, before that, Jenny does what virtually every rape victim in 1980s movies does, she takes a shower. Not like Pia Zadora in "The Lonely Lady," the weirdest rape-and-shower combo in all of film history. Then a cousin comes to comfort her, seeing Jenny all bruised. "That's dreadful! I'll all a doctor," Cousin Inept-Acting says, with about as much gusto as if she were having the post office stop mail delivery while they go on vacation. They hug, which is the first time she's let anyone do that since the deaths of her father and husband.
Next time we see Jenny, she's riding a white horse back in Yorkshire where Stephen just happens to be sitting and daydreaming, the place, of course, where their parents fell in love almost two miniseries ago. Well, if you didn't figure out the ending two paragraphs ago, here it is: she asks him for the ring her grandmother left him, "not as a gift, but as your future wife." And that, my friends, ends this saga.
Never wildly interesting, "Hold the Dream" is really a lukewarm project. "A Woman of Substance" benefitted greatly from finer acting. This one has, well, Jenny Seagrove. That's not much. Stephen Collins, with a bad British accent, does better than everyone else, but he is a pro at this sort of tripe.
Don't go far, there's a third coming soon.
Showing posts with label Claire Bloom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Claire Bloom. Show all posts
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Queenie (1987)
Based on Michael Korda's novel, "Queenie" takes the kernel of a family member's story and fictionalizes it, though there is absolutely no reason to confuse "Queenie" with "Queen," already discussed in these pages. Maybe half-Indian/maybe not actress Merle Oberon (a relative of Korda's and the flimsy basis of the story) certainly went through nothing compared to Alex Haley's family members. Moreover, in presentation, "Queen" is serious and touching, where "Queenie" is merely witless and bland. Confusion eradicated, let's move on.
Called "Queen" by her nasty schoolmates, young Kate Emma Davies is first encountered behind the bars of an exclusive British girls school in Calcutta, 1931 (not to be confused with Merle Oberon, who was from what was then Bombay--phew, now we're fully fictionalized). One of the girls wants her locket. Spunky Kate tells her, "you'll have to rip if off my dead body!" Phew, now we have full character development.
Kate goes walking through the tiny streets of the city to meet with a friend, though the police tell her to go "back to the English quarter...don't you know your bite?" "This is my bite," she scoffs. In what has to be one of the last examples of insensitive racial casting, Kate's mother is played by Claire Bloom, donning heavily darkened make-up and a passingly developed accent, to play Indian. Kate complains that the girls at school, "know I'm part black," and refuses to return. Claire comforts her daughter with wishful thinking that Kate's father in England will someday call for them. Just as bad is Claire's brother, Leigh Lawson, who does the obligatory complaining about the British Raj, though Claire keeps smiling and saying, "England is her heritage and she shall have it."
Things at school just get worse. There's a tussle in the gym where Kate's enemy gets the locket and then teacher Geoffrey Rose, who looks and sounds like he's been mothballed in the villain closet in central casting for decades asking her "what doors are open to an Anglo-Indian woman? Not many! Your coloring allows you to pass for white." "It's not lucky, it's a curse," she responds. However, he then changes tactics and offers to make her "sound like a lady," because he hears traces of an Indian accent of her which will keep her from polite society. "How much will it cost me?" "Please, don't insult me. You and I are friends. There is no cost," he replies, dripping with menace. When he puts his hand on her cheek, he's become a most lecherous Henry Higgins knock-off.
Kate goes home and her friend dolls her up like a fashionable Indian woman, but her pleasure in a sari lasts only a moment before Claire bursts into the room, rips off her clothes and bars the friend from ever returning. Uncle Leigh takes her to the movies where she announces she "wants to be in a film." Not a movie, star, just "to be in a place where it seems to happy." This may be the first time in cinematic history anyone has yearned to be an extra. On the way back, she tells him about her English lessons and he's thrilled, but there is violence on the streets. Why? "It seems to be the way of the world, man against man, religion against religion, caste against caste," he tells her. Oh, great, Indian politics. I suppose they are inevitable here, but "Queenie" is a soap opera miniseries, let's not get too heavy, folks.
Geoffrey gets closer to what he wants by telling Kate to take off her jacket so "I can see that diaphragm move." Ewwww. He makes her do breathing exercises to watch her chest heave and then finally grabs her for a kiss. He's not even finished before telling her, "it's our little secret, you must never tell...it's your black blood that makes you so exciting!" Kate has to lie to her mother, so proud she's claiming the English side of herself, saying that "the lessons are over." Kate demonstrates and Claire chirps, "you sound just like the Queen of England." That line should have come earlier, as maybe an explanation of how she got her nickname Queenie, but it's too late because she's been called that since the first scene. Talk about inept writing!
Uncle Leigh takes Kate to a British club (he plays in the orchestra), and she easily passes for white. The boys all want to dance with her and she beams with delight. However, also at the party is her nemesis, daughter of Joss Ackland and Sarah Miles. Do you need me to describe how the scene is going to play out? You do? Well, okay, if you insist. The nemesis spots Kate and her bitchy mother says, "well, well, well, I have to take my hat off to her. You'd never know she had a touch of the you-know-what." She slithers over to Joss, tells him and Joss grabs Kate, telling her to leave. The boy she's dancing with objects, so he snaps, "you know the rules, old boy, whites only." The kid is horrified, but Joss insists that she leave with proper decorum, not making a scene.
Back to embracing her Indian side, Kate goes with her grandmother to a Hindu temple where Granny gives us a quick religious lesson. There are beautiful girls swaying about. "They are now going to express their fate through dance...they ask for love and they give love," she tells Kate. Explanations of Hindu dichotomy follow, with the takeaway from Kate being that black and white will always be fighting within her. There are dire warnings from Granny about "crossroads" and whatnot.
Leaving the temple, the two walk straight into a gigantic melee of fights, fire, shooting, carnage that goes well into the evening. The rioters overturn a car at Claire's house and fire soon erupts. Kate and Granny get home just as Claire and Leigh are exiting, but marauders kill Granny just as Leigh is strangling another.
Five years pass and Queenie is now played by Mia Sara. She and her family live in reduced surroundings. Uncle Leigh is having a fling with Sarah Miles, who had been such a gorgon about his niece being part Indian. "I don't want you for your money," he assures her when she offers him some. They almost kiss when she drops him home after a night out, but think better of it since anyone could be watching. He tries to pass off the money to Claire as payment for being in the band, but she knows it's "from the lady in the car." Apparently, Sarah is not the only woman he has. "You should get paid for your services," Claire complains, noting that he spends more time with them than his family. "I'm not your husband, I'm not our father, I won't run away," he reassures her. Yikes, men have been a problem for Claire, huh?
The nemesis has grown up into Serena Gordon, still spending time with her parents at the club, dancing to old-fashioned music. She talks about her "new stud" with her father, and the conversation is a hoot. It seems a little odd that Joss asks about his nostrils, but after all, "that's the only way to tell about a good Arab." My word! That's racist even for villains. Oh, wait, they are talking about a horse. That's two minutes we'll not get back. Joss wonders why she's not more interested in young men, and Serena coos, "why would I want anyone else when I have you, Daddy?" and he can't meet her gaze. Awkward! Sarah manages to top even this when making a toast at the club so drunk she can barely put sentences together. Joss has to drag her off the stage as everyone gossips. She gets free of his clutches and runs to Leigh. Joss follows her and finds them kissing. Breathing like a dragon, he threatens, "to destroy" Leigh, but Sarah pipes in "there will be no charges" because his personal life is no cleaner than hers and she knows it, and also because it would open up her affair with an Indian man, a big deal for a society lady.
Mia pays Joss a visit, lying to the servants that his daughter is in trouble. Joss is not pleased, telling her "nobody has to engage in bad manners," when she admits the deception. What is he, the Emily Post of Calcutta? Actually, she's there to plead for her uncle's job back. Without the money for his job, "we can't survive" and Claire has had to go begging for food. He's not moved, telling her, "you don't know what it's like having your wife touched by a nigger." Right to the head of miniseries villainy he goes with that line. He then decides Mia can be his sex toy and he won't say anything about her uncle. He takes her to the bedroom, forces her to strip. After sex, she's on the floor and he tosses her dress to her, saying, "that'll do." "This is only the beginning," he adds, insisting she come back every day "until I've had satisfaction." Mia is horrified and starts screaming, so he chases her with a belt. She crouches by the staircase and when he raises his arm, he somehow (I really didn't understand just how) falls over, dropping to the floor. A vile character like this exists in nearly every American miniseries, but it usually does take longer for him to die as the heroine finds her way to success and fortune, then finding a way to humiliate him. But, Joss is done away with very quickly. I guess we should worry that multiple servants knew Mia was in the house at the time of his death. They even see her running out with his wallet. "Go find her, I'll kill her," Serena weeps when the servants tell her a purported friend of hers pushed him over (not true, but you saw that coming before he hit the ground).
With the police searching every house, Claire decides that Mia and Leigh must go to England (now that they are 200 pounds wealthier). "Make the most of yourself," Claire tells her daughter before Mia and Leigh rush out moments before the police arrive.
It takes them two months, but Leigh and Mia arrive in London, illegally. The cab driver thinks Mia is white, which will come in handy, but refuses to take them to a decent hotel because he assumes Uncle Leigh is daring to step out with a white woman. "They call us Coloreds here," Leigh tells Mia as he is refused every job for which he applies. That means it's up to Mia to support them because she passes. How very "Imitation of Life" of her (though she doesn't hide anything with as much purpose as Sarah Jane). She has no better luck and Leigh snaps that they are down to "nothing and change," though he has enough money to get hammered every night.
In desperation, Mia goes to a seedy out-of-the-way nightclub run by Topol. "I'm Jewish, came over from Hungary," he tells her, but she claims to be English. He's not convinced, saying she has a "very exotic quality." He has no waitress jobs, but he invites her to dance on the empty stage with him. Mia reveals a hidden talent, winding around like Isidora Duncan with no props. "When it feels right, just take off your top," Topol says. Yup, it's that kind of club. She refuses, but he sizes her up, seeing that she likes attention and being adored. "As a woman, you must know what kind of power you have over a man...you can have us men utterly utterly under your spell. It must be a wonderful feeling to have all those men watching you, to know you control them," he tells her and offers her a huge sum to work for him. She doesn't turn him down or disagree with anything he's said. She even gets Uncle Leigh a job in the band.
Compared to the old cows also performing in this house of burlesque, Mia is a revelation. We did "My Fair Lady" earlier, now we're onto "Gypsy." Topol gives her good hints before her first performance and promises their relationship is "business only." She thanks him for that, but he says not to as "it gives me the opportunity to exploit you without mercy." She smiles at that, about to come out of her shell thanks to this like minded man. Leigh had no idea that he signed up for burlesque and tells Mia, "you look like an English whore." She is furious, telling him, "I'm making the most of myself, don't you see?" "Suddenly, I don't know who you are," he is forced to say, in the script's worst cliche yet.
On her first try (take that Gypsy Rose Lee), she nails it, turning out to be an absolute natural and getting the men in the joint all excited, the only stripper to do so. Soon, the club is jammed with patrons, male and female, to watch Mia do her thing. Back in Calcutta, Serena is still demanding justice for her father's death.
Time passes and Mia is still packing them in. Photographer Gary Cady finds himself smitten with her from the first time he sees her act and tries to take her picture, but Topol stops him. Leigh begs Topol to fire Mia, but she's Topol's ace and besides, she loves what she's doing. Topol wants to know where Mia is really from. She says it doesn't make a difference. Ah, not so. "It could make a rather important difference between being a stripper until your body goes or something better," he notes and she admits being from Calcutta. He gives her Gary's card, as Gary needs a model. They decide she will be called "Dawn Avalon" from Tasmania. We're back to Gypsy Rose Lee, as Mia and Topol invent a backstory for her. "Do you think you can really pull this off?" he asks. "I'll do what I have to do, for my family, for myself," she insists.
The photo session does not go well. "I can't figure out what to do with you!" Gary bleats, though still bursting with passion for her. "I have better things to with my afternoons than spend them with mad artist types who don't even know their minds!" she roars. Finally, we're getting to the cheese of the piece! She's becoming a diva. He doesn't consider himself an artist as (get ready) as a photographer, "I only reveal what's already there." "The truth," Mia adds. Finally, in a casual moment, he figures out how to shoot her.
The romance starts off very sweetly. Gary takes her to see "Camille," an odd first date movie. She wants to know how to become a movie star (remember, earlier, she had simply wanted to be in the movies, not a star). She realizes she needs an agent and someone to manage her, so she asks Topol and with a fifty-fifty split, he agrees. Gary wants Mia to move in with him, asking her in a London rain that demands a big kiss and a declaration of love. Unfortunately, drunken Uncle Leigh is not pro Gary or pro romance. The reason why isn't quite what one would expect: "I love you. I want you more than anything else in the world." It's jealousy, which works itself into an attempted rape until she grabs a shattered bottle. Creepy, yes, but this is the first unique moment in "Queenie," so far a paint-by-numbers story with a cliche at every turn.
Mia rushes out of the apartment and Leigh follows, only to be hit by a car and killed. She lies in a letter to her mother, telling her "he died peacefully." Free of Leigh, she goes back to Gary, who is angry at her for disappearing from him life, but when she tells him Leigh was killed, he's back to being nice. Now she's ready to move in, and they can have a big sex scene, completely with special lighting, limbs flailing, bad kissing and the rest of the works.
Gary has a showing of his work, where snobs talk about the "existential" pictures and his use of "darks and lights," no pun intended. This gets them an invitation to one of the "famous weekends" of movie producer Kirk Douglas. Joss Ackland and Claire Bloom were slumming, of course, but Kirk Douglas does it with a capital S. He "collects people like he collects art," Gary says as Mia is astounded by all the people at the mansion.
Kirk's agent, Joel Grey (the only Oscar-winning slummer here, as Kirk would not get his honorary Oscar until almost a decade after "Queenie"), is worried because Kirk wants to make the leap from producer to director. "I've directed before," Kirk says, grabbing a statuette from the desk, but Joel reminds him the new picture is a big budget one and needs an experienced hand. "You're an artist, not a traffic cop," Joel carps, but Kirk wants "the challenge."
You want cloying? Here it is. Mia is mingling, managing to bump into everyone and backs up into Gary, who sends a punch bowl hurling at Kirk. "I don't believe we've met," he says with a good sense of humor to Mia and Gary. "I'm a dancer," she tells him. "Classical?" "No, Modern." Kirk seems to think she would be a good actress and offers her a screen test. "You're not ready!" Gary pouts, though Topol is on Mia's side. Apparently, Topol and Kirk worked together, "a long time ago, making silent films." Boy, that's convenient.
Before the screen tests of various ladies, Joel reminds Kirk how nervous he is, and how investors and studios want established actors, "preferably with a few wrinkles." Kirk says the leading man is nearing 50. Joel is shocked he's that old. "Time flies when you're overacting," Kirk comments. That's a good line, no matter what, but in a miniseries, particularly apt since overacting is usually the only kind of acting that goes on. He's way more interested in Mia than he should be. "Remember, all these people are here to make you look good," he says to calm her nerves. At a screen test?
Gary has come for moral support, and Kirk asks him for help redoing the lighting to maximize Mia's features. Now we're sprinted into territory claimed by "The Red Shoes." After one flubbed take, her second stab is perfection, well, in the plot at least. "That one's a star!" Kirk beams to Joel. Actually, the only thing that even bears a resemblance to movie stars of the 1930s is the make-up.
Kirk has to haggle with Topol for Mia's services and Topol is shrewd. The negotiations over a pool table are intense, with Topol taking full advantage of their "shared past" as peasants. Kirk asks, "how does she feel about needles"" to Topol's surprise. The movie is to be shot...wait for it...wait for it...in India! And one needs her shots to travel to India. Uh oh. Worlds are about to collide.
Topol doesn't know about the murder charge hanging over Mia's head, so he can't understand why she refuses to go back to India. He think it's just about the passing, so he tells her, "keep passing...if we don't tell anyone, no one will ever know, in India or anywhere else." She decides to tell Topol all of the truth, but he reminds her she's "Dawn Avalon" from Tasmania, with "papers forged by the greatest artists in Europe."
There's another problem: Gary won't go to India with her because he's been offered a photography assignment elsewhere. "I need you," she whines and of course he gives in.
Before everyone arrives, Serena has yet another scene demanding justice, though her mother advises her to drop the investigation because she's "not prepared" for the truth about "Dear Daddy."
A huge publicity machine is rolled out when the party touches down in India. Hollywood wasn't too keen on location filming in the 1930s, but this bit of trumped-up hokum was a specialty. Gigantic crowds are there to welcome everyone as the leads are sent up on elephants in front of the cheering masses. They get a more spectacular welcome than any visiting royal could imagine.
Joel breaks the news to Mia and Gary that they can't stay in the same room because "the Indian government is really fussy about these things." Uh huh. After the display we just saw, they couldn't also arrange for two people to sleep together? They can only manage big magic tricks?
It's two days before Claire sees a newspaper about Mia's presence in India. She calls Mia and they meet in a park. "Why have you come?" Mia asks Claire. "If anyone sees us together, finds out who I really am..." she worries, but unfortunately Claire has been evicted and has nowhere to go. Mia gives her the hotel key and insists she speak to no one. However, someone has been trailing Claire, hired by whoever it was who paid more rent on Claire's hovel to get her forced out.
Just as rehearsals are about to begin, Kirk has problems of his own. A major investor has pulled out and everyone insists Kirk cut down expenses. "I'll find the money," he insists, refusing to change the picture he wants to make.
It's uh oh time. Gary goes to deliver champagne to Mia's room where Mama Claire is hiding out fondling the fabrics of her daughter's dresses. Luckily, Claire stalls and Mia is only moments behind. Claire pretends to be Mia's maid, saving the day. Her acting is better than everyone else's, maybe she should be in the movie! We're back to "Imitation of Life." Mia wants to send Claire to England so her cover won't be blown and because she thinks it's "shameful" to treat her mother like a servant. Claire launches into a speech about "shame" done very nicely (if a little influenced by tranquilizers), but since Mia is not her acting equal, the scene doesn't quite have the crackle it should.
Mia and Kirk go horse riding, which Kirk claims "is done from the thighs." Mia's horse is spooked when none other than Serena rides by. Mia is hidden behind a mesh netting. "I say, you look familiar," Serena says, and Mia is too freaked to continue the riding lesson. She's convinced Serena recognized her. Claire's advice is "act like nobody can touch you and nobody can."
Indeed, Serena has recognized Mia and goes to the police. The man who has been running the investigation all these years doesn't believe her. Serena knows it's her, "living the high life and making fools of us all." The detective is too afraid to rile the English, saying that without proof, it will be embarrassing. Serena throws money at him and demands he do something about Mia.
At a party, Kirk suggests Gary should be in the movies and Mia tells him to "get him a job" but Gary doesn't want it and an argument ensues. Mia huffs off and Kirk chases after her. "Let's make up," he suggests when he catches up to her and plants a kiss on her lips. The unfortunately lighting makes him look like a wax figure old enough to be her grandfather (which I guess he is). She dashes away, but then gets drunk and sloppy. Gary insists he be the one to take her to her room and Kirk is jealous, instructing Joel to make sure the movie shooting in Egypt hires Gary.
The next day, Mia tries to apologize to hardened Gary, who informs her of the job offer in Egypt. She keeps telling Gary she has no interest in Kirk, so Gary proposes. "You're changing all the time. You're all shadows and smoke. I am finding it harder and harder to hold onto you," he exclaims when she doesn't accept.
Serena pounces on Mia, telling her she's left a photograph for her at the front desk of a girl she went to school with who looks just like her. "You could be twins," she gloats while Mia tries to remain calm. Badness piles up because Gary takes the job in Egypt. Has she thought to call Topol? Isn't it his job to protect her? Gary accuses her of not loving him, the reason she keeps some big secret from him. They promise to write each other every day, share a kiss and then he departs.
There is a gigantic battle to remind us of the political unrest in India...oh, wait, never mind, it's part of Kirk's movie, because why else would Mia be riding into the middle of it? When it's over, Mia goes to Joel hoping for mail, but he's hidden the letters from Gary to give to Kirk. He's been keeping both sides of the correspondence.
The police inspector arrives to question Mia about Serena's accusation. He has contacted her supposed hometown in Tasmania, where no one has ever heard of her. She whips out the forged papers, pictures and everything else. "Really, Inspector, your case is beginning to sound like one of my movies, my bad ones," Kirk jokes with him, defending his star. When the inspector leaves, Kirk turns on Mia, demanding to know "what the hell is going on?" He can tell he's lying. "How do you think I got out of Budapest? Same way you crawled out of Calcutta," he notes. She does not tell him the truth, but she does crumble into his arms for a passionate kiss.
The inspector did not believe the papers, but Serena has taken the case to the British authorities anyway, and he's relieved of his duties in the investigation.
Financially, Kirk is still in trouble. Joel has been sending his wife out to beg for money. Kirk is aghast that he would do something so tacky. "Why don't we hold a bake sale?" he cracks. But, Joel's wife has connections. After all, she is the daughter of a studio head (which makes her basically Irene Mayer Selznick). However, they need $4 million more in order to finish the movie and no one is putting it up. "You're not listening to me. Maybe if you took your mind off that little tart..." Joel advises, which gets him a back-handed slap across the face from tough Kirk. "You're the parody of a general, marching off to battle while everyone is telling you you're going to lose," Joel huffs. What the hell does that mean?
Claire is upset that Mia is sleeping with Kirk. "He's only using you," she notes, but Mia says she's doing the same with him because "he's the only one who can help us." In fact, she's told him the full truth, which worries her mother. Claire also was hoping that Mia would be in love with the man she's screwing, and Mia ruefully admits that she had love and lost it.
Bouncing into the movie three-quarters of the way is the always-dependable Martin Balsam, as a powerful Hollywood player. He has seen the rushes and agrees that Mia is definitely a star. But, it's down to business. Martin hasn't an arrangement in mind. He's already seen the financial books, "both sets," which horrifies Kirk. His demands for pumping money into the movie are gigantic: distribution, equal billing and half the profits. "Half the profits for one quarter of the investment?" Kirk asks. But, he agrees to it and then Martin asks for the last condition, final say in editing. Kirk scowls, "you're garbage!" "Does that mean we have a deal?" Martin asks. Kirk stomps off with Joel complaining and nearly collapses from a heart condition. "Make the deal...but no final cut!" he tells Joel.
The movie is done and Kirk and Mia are back in London. During a night walk along the Thames, he gives her the letters from Gary. He fully admits to stashing them. "You bastard," she cries. "I am," he agrees. He did it because "I don't want to lose you," he tells her. He goes one step further and says he sent her letters to Gary to him since "I knew I couldn't keep you forever." He's a bastard, but a noble one, apparently. She takes the car to get to Gary as quickly as possible and of course Kirk's chest pains mirror those on his face. He sits on a bench and is still there in the morning, dead. That makes for a nice newspaper picture.
Naturally, Mia is distraught (and Claire is still pretending to be her maid, even back in London), but Gary arrives, having received the letters. "Post office is slow," she jokes. "I've been married and widowed," she tells him, which is news to anyone watching. Did I miss a wedding scene? "We're both very different people now," Gary notes, a line expected since the beginning of the scene. The conversation gets even dumber when she turns on him, opining that he's come back for her money, angry that he wasn't there for her when she was afraid. That's unfair, but remember, he knows they are "different people," so he doesn't have a problem walking out on her.
All of this happened and Mia's first movie hasn't even opened yet, because after a series of flashbacks, Mia and Claire drive up to the premiere, mobbed by press and fans in grand old Hollywood style. Even Topol is there and we haven't seen him since he made the deal with Kirk. Joel tells the crowed they are about to see "the most lavish and probably the most expensive film ever made." There's a shout-out to Kirk and then he introduces Mia. When Mia steps to the microphone, she gives one of those bashful, quiet and very rehearsed speeches that actresses once gave at premieres. Okay, since this is a movie about a movie, it goes on longer than say Vivien Leigh or Barbara Stanwyck or Joan Fontaine might have deemed appropriate, but that's to be expected. Mia outs her mother, who hesitantly moves through the throngs to join her daughter on the steps of the theater. Nobody seems at all upset, which kind of negatives the whole plot, doesn't it? "I'm very proud of where I came from and who I am," Mia says. Gary starts clapping and soon everyone joins in. Boy, when Hollywood decides to absolve itself of its sins, it goes all out, doesn't it? Merle Oberon died in 1979, so she didn't get to see this vindication, but then again, no one really knows her exact story. This one is pure Hollywood fantasy tripe.
Called "Queen" by her nasty schoolmates, young Kate Emma Davies is first encountered behind the bars of an exclusive British girls school in Calcutta, 1931 (not to be confused with Merle Oberon, who was from what was then Bombay--phew, now we're fully fictionalized). One of the girls wants her locket. Spunky Kate tells her, "you'll have to rip if off my dead body!" Phew, now we have full character development.
Kate goes walking through the tiny streets of the city to meet with a friend, though the police tell her to go "back to the English quarter...don't you know your bite?" "This is my bite," she scoffs. In what has to be one of the last examples of insensitive racial casting, Kate's mother is played by Claire Bloom, donning heavily darkened make-up and a passingly developed accent, to play Indian. Kate complains that the girls at school, "know I'm part black," and refuses to return. Claire comforts her daughter with wishful thinking that Kate's father in England will someday call for them. Just as bad is Claire's brother, Leigh Lawson, who does the obligatory complaining about the British Raj, though Claire keeps smiling and saying, "England is her heritage and she shall have it."
Things at school just get worse. There's a tussle in the gym where Kate's enemy gets the locket and then teacher Geoffrey Rose, who looks and sounds like he's been mothballed in the villain closet in central casting for decades asking her "what doors are open to an Anglo-Indian woman? Not many! Your coloring allows you to pass for white." "It's not lucky, it's a curse," she responds. However, he then changes tactics and offers to make her "sound like a lady," because he hears traces of an Indian accent of her which will keep her from polite society. "How much will it cost me?" "Please, don't insult me. You and I are friends. There is no cost," he replies, dripping with menace. When he puts his hand on her cheek, he's become a most lecherous Henry Higgins knock-off.
Kate goes home and her friend dolls her up like a fashionable Indian woman, but her pleasure in a sari lasts only a moment before Claire bursts into the room, rips off her clothes and bars the friend from ever returning. Uncle Leigh takes her to the movies where she announces she "wants to be in a film." Not a movie, star, just "to be in a place where it seems to happy." This may be the first time in cinematic history anyone has yearned to be an extra. On the way back, she tells him about her English lessons and he's thrilled, but there is violence on the streets. Why? "It seems to be the way of the world, man against man, religion against religion, caste against caste," he tells her. Oh, great, Indian politics. I suppose they are inevitable here, but "Queenie" is a soap opera miniseries, let's not get too heavy, folks.
Geoffrey gets closer to what he wants by telling Kate to take off her jacket so "I can see that diaphragm move." Ewwww. He makes her do breathing exercises to watch her chest heave and then finally grabs her for a kiss. He's not even finished before telling her, "it's our little secret, you must never tell...it's your black blood that makes you so exciting!" Kate has to lie to her mother, so proud she's claiming the English side of herself, saying that "the lessons are over." Kate demonstrates and Claire chirps, "you sound just like the Queen of England." That line should have come earlier, as maybe an explanation of how she got her nickname Queenie, but it's too late because she's been called that since the first scene. Talk about inept writing!
Uncle Leigh takes Kate to a British club (he plays in the orchestra), and she easily passes for white. The boys all want to dance with her and she beams with delight. However, also at the party is her nemesis, daughter of Joss Ackland and Sarah Miles. Do you need me to describe how the scene is going to play out? You do? Well, okay, if you insist. The nemesis spots Kate and her bitchy mother says, "well, well, well, I have to take my hat off to her. You'd never know she had a touch of the you-know-what." She slithers over to Joss, tells him and Joss grabs Kate, telling her to leave. The boy she's dancing with objects, so he snaps, "you know the rules, old boy, whites only." The kid is horrified, but Joss insists that she leave with proper decorum, not making a scene.
Back to embracing her Indian side, Kate goes with her grandmother to a Hindu temple where Granny gives us a quick religious lesson. There are beautiful girls swaying about. "They are now going to express their fate through dance...they ask for love and they give love," she tells Kate. Explanations of Hindu dichotomy follow, with the takeaway from Kate being that black and white will always be fighting within her. There are dire warnings from Granny about "crossroads" and whatnot.
Leaving the temple, the two walk straight into a gigantic melee of fights, fire, shooting, carnage that goes well into the evening. The rioters overturn a car at Claire's house and fire soon erupts. Kate and Granny get home just as Claire and Leigh are exiting, but marauders kill Granny just as Leigh is strangling another.
Five years pass and Queenie is now played by Mia Sara. She and her family live in reduced surroundings. Uncle Leigh is having a fling with Sarah Miles, who had been such a gorgon about his niece being part Indian. "I don't want you for your money," he assures her when she offers him some. They almost kiss when she drops him home after a night out, but think better of it since anyone could be watching. He tries to pass off the money to Claire as payment for being in the band, but she knows it's "from the lady in the car." Apparently, Sarah is not the only woman he has. "You should get paid for your services," Claire complains, noting that he spends more time with them than his family. "I'm not your husband, I'm not our father, I won't run away," he reassures her. Yikes, men have been a problem for Claire, huh?
The nemesis has grown up into Serena Gordon, still spending time with her parents at the club, dancing to old-fashioned music. She talks about her "new stud" with her father, and the conversation is a hoot. It seems a little odd that Joss asks about his nostrils, but after all, "that's the only way to tell about a good Arab." My word! That's racist even for villains. Oh, wait, they are talking about a horse. That's two minutes we'll not get back. Joss wonders why she's not more interested in young men, and Serena coos, "why would I want anyone else when I have you, Daddy?" and he can't meet her gaze. Awkward! Sarah manages to top even this when making a toast at the club so drunk she can barely put sentences together. Joss has to drag her off the stage as everyone gossips. She gets free of his clutches and runs to Leigh. Joss follows her and finds them kissing. Breathing like a dragon, he threatens, "to destroy" Leigh, but Sarah pipes in "there will be no charges" because his personal life is no cleaner than hers and she knows it, and also because it would open up her affair with an Indian man, a big deal for a society lady.
Mia pays Joss a visit, lying to the servants that his daughter is in trouble. Joss is not pleased, telling her "nobody has to engage in bad manners," when she admits the deception. What is he, the Emily Post of Calcutta? Actually, she's there to plead for her uncle's job back. Without the money for his job, "we can't survive" and Claire has had to go begging for food. He's not moved, telling her, "you don't know what it's like having your wife touched by a nigger." Right to the head of miniseries villainy he goes with that line. He then decides Mia can be his sex toy and he won't say anything about her uncle. He takes her to the bedroom, forces her to strip. After sex, she's on the floor and he tosses her dress to her, saying, "that'll do." "This is only the beginning," he adds, insisting she come back every day "until I've had satisfaction." Mia is horrified and starts screaming, so he chases her with a belt. She crouches by the staircase and when he raises his arm, he somehow (I really didn't understand just how) falls over, dropping to the floor. A vile character like this exists in nearly every American miniseries, but it usually does take longer for him to die as the heroine finds her way to success and fortune, then finding a way to humiliate him. But, Joss is done away with very quickly. I guess we should worry that multiple servants knew Mia was in the house at the time of his death. They even see her running out with his wallet. "Go find her, I'll kill her," Serena weeps when the servants tell her a purported friend of hers pushed him over (not true, but you saw that coming before he hit the ground).
With the police searching every house, Claire decides that Mia and Leigh must go to England (now that they are 200 pounds wealthier). "Make the most of yourself," Claire tells her daughter before Mia and Leigh rush out moments before the police arrive.
It takes them two months, but Leigh and Mia arrive in London, illegally. The cab driver thinks Mia is white, which will come in handy, but refuses to take them to a decent hotel because he assumes Uncle Leigh is daring to step out with a white woman. "They call us Coloreds here," Leigh tells Mia as he is refused every job for which he applies. That means it's up to Mia to support them because she passes. How very "Imitation of Life" of her (though she doesn't hide anything with as much purpose as Sarah Jane). She has no better luck and Leigh snaps that they are down to "nothing and change," though he has enough money to get hammered every night.
In desperation, Mia goes to a seedy out-of-the-way nightclub run by Topol. "I'm Jewish, came over from Hungary," he tells her, but she claims to be English. He's not convinced, saying she has a "very exotic quality." He has no waitress jobs, but he invites her to dance on the empty stage with him. Mia reveals a hidden talent, winding around like Isidora Duncan with no props. "When it feels right, just take off your top," Topol says. Yup, it's that kind of club. She refuses, but he sizes her up, seeing that she likes attention and being adored. "As a woman, you must know what kind of power you have over a man...you can have us men utterly utterly under your spell. It must be a wonderful feeling to have all those men watching you, to know you control them," he tells her and offers her a huge sum to work for him. She doesn't turn him down or disagree with anything he's said. She even gets Uncle Leigh a job in the band.
Compared to the old cows also performing in this house of burlesque, Mia is a revelation. We did "My Fair Lady" earlier, now we're onto "Gypsy." Topol gives her good hints before her first performance and promises their relationship is "business only." She thanks him for that, but he says not to as "it gives me the opportunity to exploit you without mercy." She smiles at that, about to come out of her shell thanks to this like minded man. Leigh had no idea that he signed up for burlesque and tells Mia, "you look like an English whore." She is furious, telling him, "I'm making the most of myself, don't you see?" "Suddenly, I don't know who you are," he is forced to say, in the script's worst cliche yet.
On her first try (take that Gypsy Rose Lee), she nails it, turning out to be an absolute natural and getting the men in the joint all excited, the only stripper to do so. Soon, the club is jammed with patrons, male and female, to watch Mia do her thing. Back in Calcutta, Serena is still demanding justice for her father's death.
Time passes and Mia is still packing them in. Photographer Gary Cady finds himself smitten with her from the first time he sees her act and tries to take her picture, but Topol stops him. Leigh begs Topol to fire Mia, but she's Topol's ace and besides, she loves what she's doing. Topol wants to know where Mia is really from. She says it doesn't make a difference. Ah, not so. "It could make a rather important difference between being a stripper until your body goes or something better," he notes and she admits being from Calcutta. He gives her Gary's card, as Gary needs a model. They decide she will be called "Dawn Avalon" from Tasmania. We're back to Gypsy Rose Lee, as Mia and Topol invent a backstory for her. "Do you think you can really pull this off?" he asks. "I'll do what I have to do, for my family, for myself," she insists.
The photo session does not go well. "I can't figure out what to do with you!" Gary bleats, though still bursting with passion for her. "I have better things to with my afternoons than spend them with mad artist types who don't even know their minds!" she roars. Finally, we're getting to the cheese of the piece! She's becoming a diva. He doesn't consider himself an artist as (get ready) as a photographer, "I only reveal what's already there." "The truth," Mia adds. Finally, in a casual moment, he figures out how to shoot her.
The romance starts off very sweetly. Gary takes her to see "Camille," an odd first date movie. She wants to know how to become a movie star (remember, earlier, she had simply wanted to be in the movies, not a star). She realizes she needs an agent and someone to manage her, so she asks Topol and with a fifty-fifty split, he agrees. Gary wants Mia to move in with him, asking her in a London rain that demands a big kiss and a declaration of love. Unfortunately, drunken Uncle Leigh is not pro Gary or pro romance. The reason why isn't quite what one would expect: "I love you. I want you more than anything else in the world." It's jealousy, which works itself into an attempted rape until she grabs a shattered bottle. Creepy, yes, but this is the first unique moment in "Queenie," so far a paint-by-numbers story with a cliche at every turn.
Mia rushes out of the apartment and Leigh follows, only to be hit by a car and killed. She lies in a letter to her mother, telling her "he died peacefully." Free of Leigh, she goes back to Gary, who is angry at her for disappearing from him life, but when she tells him Leigh was killed, he's back to being nice. Now she's ready to move in, and they can have a big sex scene, completely with special lighting, limbs flailing, bad kissing and the rest of the works.
Gary has a showing of his work, where snobs talk about the "existential" pictures and his use of "darks and lights," no pun intended. This gets them an invitation to one of the "famous weekends" of movie producer Kirk Douglas. Joss Ackland and Claire Bloom were slumming, of course, but Kirk Douglas does it with a capital S. He "collects people like he collects art," Gary says as Mia is astounded by all the people at the mansion.
Kirk's agent, Joel Grey (the only Oscar-winning slummer here, as Kirk would not get his honorary Oscar until almost a decade after "Queenie"), is worried because Kirk wants to make the leap from producer to director. "I've directed before," Kirk says, grabbing a statuette from the desk, but Joel reminds him the new picture is a big budget one and needs an experienced hand. "You're an artist, not a traffic cop," Joel carps, but Kirk wants "the challenge."
You want cloying? Here it is. Mia is mingling, managing to bump into everyone and backs up into Gary, who sends a punch bowl hurling at Kirk. "I don't believe we've met," he says with a good sense of humor to Mia and Gary. "I'm a dancer," she tells him. "Classical?" "No, Modern." Kirk seems to think she would be a good actress and offers her a screen test. "You're not ready!" Gary pouts, though Topol is on Mia's side. Apparently, Topol and Kirk worked together, "a long time ago, making silent films." Boy, that's convenient.
Before the screen tests of various ladies, Joel reminds Kirk how nervous he is, and how investors and studios want established actors, "preferably with a few wrinkles." Kirk says the leading man is nearing 50. Joel is shocked he's that old. "Time flies when you're overacting," Kirk comments. That's a good line, no matter what, but in a miniseries, particularly apt since overacting is usually the only kind of acting that goes on. He's way more interested in Mia than he should be. "Remember, all these people are here to make you look good," he says to calm her nerves. At a screen test?
Gary has come for moral support, and Kirk asks him for help redoing the lighting to maximize Mia's features. Now we're sprinted into territory claimed by "The Red Shoes." After one flubbed take, her second stab is perfection, well, in the plot at least. "That one's a star!" Kirk beams to Joel. Actually, the only thing that even bears a resemblance to movie stars of the 1930s is the make-up.
Kirk has to haggle with Topol for Mia's services and Topol is shrewd. The negotiations over a pool table are intense, with Topol taking full advantage of their "shared past" as peasants. Kirk asks, "how does she feel about needles"" to Topol's surprise. The movie is to be shot...wait for it...wait for it...in India! And one needs her shots to travel to India. Uh oh. Worlds are about to collide.
Topol doesn't know about the murder charge hanging over Mia's head, so he can't understand why she refuses to go back to India. He think it's just about the passing, so he tells her, "keep passing...if we don't tell anyone, no one will ever know, in India or anywhere else." She decides to tell Topol all of the truth, but he reminds her she's "Dawn Avalon" from Tasmania, with "papers forged by the greatest artists in Europe."
There's another problem: Gary won't go to India with her because he's been offered a photography assignment elsewhere. "I need you," she whines and of course he gives in.
Before everyone arrives, Serena has yet another scene demanding justice, though her mother advises her to drop the investigation because she's "not prepared" for the truth about "Dear Daddy."
A huge publicity machine is rolled out when the party touches down in India. Hollywood wasn't too keen on location filming in the 1930s, but this bit of trumped-up hokum was a specialty. Gigantic crowds are there to welcome everyone as the leads are sent up on elephants in front of the cheering masses. They get a more spectacular welcome than any visiting royal could imagine.
Joel breaks the news to Mia and Gary that they can't stay in the same room because "the Indian government is really fussy about these things." Uh huh. After the display we just saw, they couldn't also arrange for two people to sleep together? They can only manage big magic tricks?
It's two days before Claire sees a newspaper about Mia's presence in India. She calls Mia and they meet in a park. "Why have you come?" Mia asks Claire. "If anyone sees us together, finds out who I really am..." she worries, but unfortunately Claire has been evicted and has nowhere to go. Mia gives her the hotel key and insists she speak to no one. However, someone has been trailing Claire, hired by whoever it was who paid more rent on Claire's hovel to get her forced out.
Just as rehearsals are about to begin, Kirk has problems of his own. A major investor has pulled out and everyone insists Kirk cut down expenses. "I'll find the money," he insists, refusing to change the picture he wants to make.
It's uh oh time. Gary goes to deliver champagne to Mia's room where Mama Claire is hiding out fondling the fabrics of her daughter's dresses. Luckily, Claire stalls and Mia is only moments behind. Claire pretends to be Mia's maid, saving the day. Her acting is better than everyone else's, maybe she should be in the movie! We're back to "Imitation of Life." Mia wants to send Claire to England so her cover won't be blown and because she thinks it's "shameful" to treat her mother like a servant. Claire launches into a speech about "shame" done very nicely (if a little influenced by tranquilizers), but since Mia is not her acting equal, the scene doesn't quite have the crackle it should.
Mia and Kirk go horse riding, which Kirk claims "is done from the thighs." Mia's horse is spooked when none other than Serena rides by. Mia is hidden behind a mesh netting. "I say, you look familiar," Serena says, and Mia is too freaked to continue the riding lesson. She's convinced Serena recognized her. Claire's advice is "act like nobody can touch you and nobody can."
Indeed, Serena has recognized Mia and goes to the police. The man who has been running the investigation all these years doesn't believe her. Serena knows it's her, "living the high life and making fools of us all." The detective is too afraid to rile the English, saying that without proof, it will be embarrassing. Serena throws money at him and demands he do something about Mia.
At a party, Kirk suggests Gary should be in the movies and Mia tells him to "get him a job" but Gary doesn't want it and an argument ensues. Mia huffs off and Kirk chases after her. "Let's make up," he suggests when he catches up to her and plants a kiss on her lips. The unfortunately lighting makes him look like a wax figure old enough to be her grandfather (which I guess he is). She dashes away, but then gets drunk and sloppy. Gary insists he be the one to take her to her room and Kirk is jealous, instructing Joel to make sure the movie shooting in Egypt hires Gary.
The next day, Mia tries to apologize to hardened Gary, who informs her of the job offer in Egypt. She keeps telling Gary she has no interest in Kirk, so Gary proposes. "You're changing all the time. You're all shadows and smoke. I am finding it harder and harder to hold onto you," he exclaims when she doesn't accept.
Serena pounces on Mia, telling her she's left a photograph for her at the front desk of a girl she went to school with who looks just like her. "You could be twins," she gloats while Mia tries to remain calm. Badness piles up because Gary takes the job in Egypt. Has she thought to call Topol? Isn't it his job to protect her? Gary accuses her of not loving him, the reason she keeps some big secret from him. They promise to write each other every day, share a kiss and then he departs.
There is a gigantic battle to remind us of the political unrest in India...oh, wait, never mind, it's part of Kirk's movie, because why else would Mia be riding into the middle of it? When it's over, Mia goes to Joel hoping for mail, but he's hidden the letters from Gary to give to Kirk. He's been keeping both sides of the correspondence.
The police inspector arrives to question Mia about Serena's accusation. He has contacted her supposed hometown in Tasmania, where no one has ever heard of her. She whips out the forged papers, pictures and everything else. "Really, Inspector, your case is beginning to sound like one of my movies, my bad ones," Kirk jokes with him, defending his star. When the inspector leaves, Kirk turns on Mia, demanding to know "what the hell is going on?" He can tell he's lying. "How do you think I got out of Budapest? Same way you crawled out of Calcutta," he notes. She does not tell him the truth, but she does crumble into his arms for a passionate kiss.
The inspector did not believe the papers, but Serena has taken the case to the British authorities anyway, and he's relieved of his duties in the investigation.
Financially, Kirk is still in trouble. Joel has been sending his wife out to beg for money. Kirk is aghast that he would do something so tacky. "Why don't we hold a bake sale?" he cracks. But, Joel's wife has connections. After all, she is the daughter of a studio head (which makes her basically Irene Mayer Selznick). However, they need $4 million more in order to finish the movie and no one is putting it up. "You're not listening to me. Maybe if you took your mind off that little tart..." Joel advises, which gets him a back-handed slap across the face from tough Kirk. "You're the parody of a general, marching off to battle while everyone is telling you you're going to lose," Joel huffs. What the hell does that mean?
Claire is upset that Mia is sleeping with Kirk. "He's only using you," she notes, but Mia says she's doing the same with him because "he's the only one who can help us." In fact, she's told him the full truth, which worries her mother. Claire also was hoping that Mia would be in love with the man she's screwing, and Mia ruefully admits that she had love and lost it.
Bouncing into the movie three-quarters of the way is the always-dependable Martin Balsam, as a powerful Hollywood player. He has seen the rushes and agrees that Mia is definitely a star. But, it's down to business. Martin hasn't an arrangement in mind. He's already seen the financial books, "both sets," which horrifies Kirk. His demands for pumping money into the movie are gigantic: distribution, equal billing and half the profits. "Half the profits for one quarter of the investment?" Kirk asks. But, he agrees to it and then Martin asks for the last condition, final say in editing. Kirk scowls, "you're garbage!" "Does that mean we have a deal?" Martin asks. Kirk stomps off with Joel complaining and nearly collapses from a heart condition. "Make the deal...but no final cut!" he tells Joel.
The movie is done and Kirk and Mia are back in London. During a night walk along the Thames, he gives her the letters from Gary. He fully admits to stashing them. "You bastard," she cries. "I am," he agrees. He did it because "I don't want to lose you," he tells her. He goes one step further and says he sent her letters to Gary to him since "I knew I couldn't keep you forever." He's a bastard, but a noble one, apparently. She takes the car to get to Gary as quickly as possible and of course Kirk's chest pains mirror those on his face. He sits on a bench and is still there in the morning, dead. That makes for a nice newspaper picture.
Naturally, Mia is distraught (and Claire is still pretending to be her maid, even back in London), but Gary arrives, having received the letters. "Post office is slow," she jokes. "I've been married and widowed," she tells him, which is news to anyone watching. Did I miss a wedding scene? "We're both very different people now," Gary notes, a line expected since the beginning of the scene. The conversation gets even dumber when she turns on him, opining that he's come back for her money, angry that he wasn't there for her when she was afraid. That's unfair, but remember, he knows they are "different people," so he doesn't have a problem walking out on her.
All of this happened and Mia's first movie hasn't even opened yet, because after a series of flashbacks, Mia and Claire drive up to the premiere, mobbed by press and fans in grand old Hollywood style. Even Topol is there and we haven't seen him since he made the deal with Kirk. Joel tells the crowed they are about to see "the most lavish and probably the most expensive film ever made." There's a shout-out to Kirk and then he introduces Mia. When Mia steps to the microphone, she gives one of those bashful, quiet and very rehearsed speeches that actresses once gave at premieres. Okay, since this is a movie about a movie, it goes on longer than say Vivien Leigh or Barbara Stanwyck or Joan Fontaine might have deemed appropriate, but that's to be expected. Mia outs her mother, who hesitantly moves through the throngs to join her daughter on the steps of the theater. Nobody seems at all upset, which kind of negatives the whole plot, doesn't it? "I'm very proud of where I came from and who I am," Mia says. Gary starts clapping and soon everyone joins in. Boy, when Hollywood decides to absolve itself of its sins, it goes all out, doesn't it? Merle Oberon died in 1979, so she didn't get to see this vindication, but then again, no one really knows her exact story. This one is pure Hollywood fantasy tripe.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Anastasia: The Mystery of Anna (1986)
It was this miniseries, "Anastasia: The Mystery of Anna," that first hooked me on Russian history (Russian history is loaded with fantastic stories, far more exciting, glamorous and cruel than this one, but the episode of Anastasia is as enticing an entrance point as anything but Catherine the Great or Ivan the Terrible and we did Catherine the Great here already), a hold that to this day thrills me. It's that good, truly one of the best miniseries of the 1980s. Yes, it takes license, but the real story is not quite as vivacious, and since it was covered in secrecy and scorn, why not invent some details? The only facts in the story are gone by 1918. After that, anyone can have pretty much free reign. Unlike other "true story" miniseries, this one isn't actually altering facts, just adding details.
This is a retelling of the story you may have seen in the Ingrid Bergman-Yul Brynner masterpiece "Anastasia," but that one did not even attempt much truth (sumptuous though it is). This one is closer. First, let's discuss the facts. Not disputed is the revolution of 1917 that overthrew the Tsar, who was sent to an outpost with his family and a few servants until the Communists finally solidified their power and had the royal family murdered. A few years later, a woman popped up claiming to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia, youngest daughter of the Tsar. For decades until her death in 1980, the woman swore to it. She had knowledge and even marks on her body that most thought impossible to have unless she was actually Anastasia. Throw in possibly missing bones from the pit where the dead family was tossed and maybe there was a chance. The royal family in exile refused to accept Anna Anderson (as she called herself), mainly for political and financial reasons. By the time this movie was made, that much was the truth. Since then, however, DNA testing has proven that Anna Anderson was indeed not the Grand Duchess. Read Peter Kurth's book (on which this was based) for more details.
In just that description, the story of Anastasia is ripe for miniseriesalization. Royalty, tragedy, mystery, epic span, that's the kind of stuff the American miniseries thrived on. Plus, it has parts for oodles of slumming actors (although I wouldn't call this slumming as it's so beautifully done). It doesn't worry about the truth because it doesn't have to. Telling the story is more important than the story itself in such a murky historical situation, and this one clicks!
In 1916, St. Petersburg was still the domain of the Tsar and his family, the wealthiest and most autocratic of all the European royal families (though not that many would remain by the end of World War I). At a grand ball, we meet them: the Tsar (Omar Sharif), the Tsarina (Claire Bloom), the Dowager Empress (Olivia de Havilland, in a Golden Globe-winning/Emmy-nominated performance), four daughters and young Tsarevich Alexis, the sickly heir to the throne. Okay, fine Omar Sharif is not exactly ideally cast as Nicholas II, but he paints the Tsar with the sympathy this movie desires. Starting off the dancing, he picks Anastasia, who is stopped by her grandmother and told, "you are my special love, you know." Supposedly she was the darling of the family.
A narrator barges in with news from the estimable James Goldman's screenplay that just two months later, "the time was ripe for revolution" based on a number of historical factors. Just to get it out of the way, Tsarina Alexandra confides in her friend Sophie (Andrea Brettlebauer) that "those terrible people" Lenin, Trotsky and the rest are "in exile" and life would be better "if only Rasputin were alive...he was a saint, you know." History has told the tale of Rasputin often enough that we can skip it here. The rising tide of revolution is kept from the children, at least as much as possible, with the Tsarina telling them only half truths.
Even after the Tsar's abdication in the summer of 1917, the royal family still lives in luxury, with tutors and servants aplenty, at least until they are banished to Siberia. The Tsar assures his children "by Christmas, we shall all be in London...what matters most is that we are all together." Ready to go, Anastasia takes one last whirl in the imperial dance floor, covered in darkness. "I shan't be here again. We won't be coming back here. Not ever," is her prophecy to her governess Sasha (Carol Gillies).
At the train station, a surly soldier demands to know why the Tsar has brought so many people, the entire household. The soldier says, "I have orders only for your family and the doctor," but the Tsar tries to cling to a vestige of power and scoffs that "I have endured enough." The soldier backs down and lets everyone on the train, disguised as a Red Cross train. Christmas passes and they are still in Siberia, with governments in Moscow changing. Life is not unbearable...yet.
That doesn't happen until the Communists show up, relieving the army of command. "We did try," the soldier says after being dismissed. "Where are our friends? Where's King George? Where's President Wilson?" an increasingly agitated Tsarina wants to know of her husband, who has the reality of the situation etched on his face. "Where's your mother? Safe in England? How come she can't make them listen. She could always make you listen," the Tsarina snarls. That lacks a little historical accuracy, though Alexandra wouldn't have known that. Maria Fedorovna just barely escaped Russia with her life after a dicey time evading one government or another.
Anastasia (played as a child by Jennifer Dundas along with Christian Bale's Alexis) is cheeky, demanding to know of the Comrade in charge what their crime is and then why he's so hostile to them. "Have you ever been in prison?" she asks. He has, for "printing leaflets." "That's a lot more than I've done," the perceptive princess notes. Alexis, having just delivered a speech to his sister about how he's always known he would die young, decides to prove it by riding a sled down the stairs, a dangerous move for such a severe hemophiliac. Predictably, Alexis is bed-bound and the Comrade is angry, saying, "I have no time to spare...fetch me a doctor from the town, I want another man's opinion" after hearing it could be months before Alexis can be moved.
Rather than going to Moscow as promised, the royal family is taken to remote Yekaterinburg in the driving rain, where their servants are dismissed except for Dr. Markov (Arnold Diamond). "You are of no earthly use to me. You are free to go," the loyal retainers are told, standing in a confused huddle in the rain. Weeks go by and the family is told nothing of the outside world until hearing artillery in the distance, their saviors.
In the middle of the night, they are woken up and told "there is an emergency" and they must be moved. What follows is one of the 20th Century's most defining moments, soaked in truths, half-truths and outright lies by ardent royalists, historical apologists, Communists and everyone else with a theory to share. One era must end in order for a new one to begin. We were told that on a very clinical and rational level by Communist intransigence, though nearly a century later it's become obvious that fear was as much a factor as anything else. The key word in the earlier sentence is "must." In order for the Communists to secure control over the country, there must be no rivals for power. Any rival could undermine their shaky government.
But history isn't our reason for being here. The American miniseries is. The family and the doctor wait in a dark basement cell for the next move, not the one expected. "My orders have finally come. I am to execute you all." An overwhelming volley of shots ring out. With that, the Romanov dynasty comes to a tragic end. The Romanovs-in-exile are the de facto heads of Russia, but there will be no resurrection of rule.
Berlin, 1923. A gaunt young woman in rags (Amy Irving) ascends a bridge, crosses herself and jumps. She is saved and brought to a hospital, forced to stay in the psych ward because no one knows who she is, and that's where attempted suicides go. Clara (Angela Pleasance), apparently convinces she's a refuge from a Dickens miniseries sporting the dumbest of cockney accents, assures the woman, "I'm as sane as you are." Yeah, that's why they have given you 80s crazy person make-up (you know the look I'm talking about).
Dr. Hauser (Edward Fox) takes on the woman's case. He finds out about the large amount of bullet scars on her body, assuming, like everyone else, that "she got them in the war" since they date back to that period. She's also "had at least one child and there are signs of malnutrition." The woman's accent is so upper class British that she can't possibly be working-class German. That's actually a rare misstep in this production, but typical of the time period. In order to be a European aristocrat, one has to be able to speak upper class British. Forget that she's Russian, or maybe German. Anna Anderson was most definitely not British. She has no memories and cannot answer Dr. Hauser's questions. Why did she jump? "I can't imagine," she says rather regally, if frightened.
Well, she doesn't make much of a case for herself with her "I can't remember" routine, which leaves her with scary-as-a-clown Clara. "Once I see a face, I never forget it," Clara keeps telling her, knowing she's seen the mystery woman before. She instantly figures it out, the woman is the Grand Duchess Anastasia, and she has a magazine picture under her bed to prove it! "Are you a princess?" Clara asks. Dr. Hauser doesn't initially get very far with her. She can't remember why she has scars, but she knows her native language is Russian. How? "I dream in Russian," but she refuses to speak it. When the police return for their report, they need a picture and the big flash sends her into a rage. "You tried to kill me, but I didn't die!" she yells, going into such a rage that she has to be sedated and put into a padded cell with a straight jacket.
Since the woman has thrown out the name Alexis in her howling, Dr. Hauser asks if it was her dog. "Don't be ridiculous," she chides, but the woman initially refuses to say more than "they lied to us, that's all they ever did. They promised we'd be safe and look what happened." She claims that "they" would kill her if "they knew I was still alive," as Dr. Hauser gets closer to the truth. She then goes on to describe the shooting and notes that she wished she had died. "I'm the only one who is left. Why was I saved? Why take my brother and not me? He might have been the Tsar someday."
Bingo!
"I am her Imperial Highness, the Grand Duchess Anastasia," she finally reveals, managing to convey a regal air through an exhausted body and face.
Dr. Hauser is not convinced, and particularly peeved when it's leaked to the press. But, he's also rational. "How many have there been? Dozens in the last year, they keep cropping up like daisies," he tells his nurse. It's true. There was something of a cottage industry of fake Anastasias, along with fake Olgas, fake TatianasHauser perks up. No one has ever mentioned the dog's name before.
The doctor invites family members to come see her, but the head of the family keeps them away, all except for Prince Erich (a devastatingly handsome Jan Niklaus, who is invented for this story as the Yul Brynner character was in the other version), a very distant relative. "I never thought she'd be so beautiful" is his reaction," since there weren't too many lookers among European royals of the period. Anna, as she is now called, sits in a chair with a stiff back and majestic bearing to receive her visitor. "You've come to test me," she immediately realizes, so she tells Erich what she remembers and what she's been told: she survived, was found by a peasant, was taken to Bucharest and lived there recovering for two years. She remembers nothing of Bucharest, not an address, "no witnesses to anything," as Prince Erich puts it. She married the peasant and bore him a son, but both died, but the baby died and the husband was murdered for her jewels. It's the jewels that interest Dr. Hauser as they had always been cited as a possible way for survival. Sewn into their gowns (a historically accurate fact), the gems could have deflected bullets. Okay, not the zillions that went into the Romanovs, but it's been an important rallying point. She wandered around after that, remembering her paternal grandmother, but got as far as Berlin.
"Drivel. I've never heard such patent drivel in all my life." That's the word of the Grand Duke Cyril (Rex Harrison), the family's leader, and the one with the most to lose should one of the Tsar's daughters be alive (his own relatives had nothing but nasty things to say about him in the decades following the Russian Revolution, and this miniseries treats him no better). Cyril can easily shoot holes in Anna's story, especially the peasant and all that nonsense. Erich decides to "risk it," though Cyril feels there is no risk, and bring Anna to someone who knew her, not a relative who barely every saw her. Grand Duchess Victoria (Rachel Gurney) takes Prince Erich's side and goes off to find people who fit that bill. "You should meet her," Erich tells Cyril. "Never."
Anna is brought to the mansion, where it has been decided Sophie will be the one to meet her. She has been forced to confront many of the frauds, and this one is particularly challenging because "of all the girls, Anna was my favorite," she tells Victoria. It starts off poorly when Anna asks if they have met before. "You should recognize me, Anastasia would!" Sophie barks. But, Anna gets there, though Sophie is unconvinced. She has no items of Anastasia's and she refuses to speak Russian (upper crust British will have to do). "It's not her face, it's not her voice. I don't know who you are," is the judgment. Anna falls to the floor in dejection. Prince Erich is "convinced she is real" and tells the doctor so, because he saw Sophie's face. He refuses to give up.
In fact, Erich is so full of energy for her cause that he takes Anna to his home, buys her a wardrobe and forces her to confront the world. He explains to her that his family was killed by the Bolsheviks and then the fortune was seized when the Kaiser abdicated. "The truth is, we were born to late. We don't belong in the 1920s. I was raised to be a prince and you know what that means. I can talk along with any subject, but I have no useful skills," he tells her. If you are a cynic, this is the time to start wondering why Erich believes her. Is it to regain his lost life? Anna wonders, and his answer is awfully wan. The cynics can still hope that he's a rascal and a liar.
As Erich launches Anna into society, they of course fall in love, a gooey situation that we knew was inevitable and simply have to suffer through because it's a miniseries and these are the rules. "Mama never let us go to restaurants, or if she did, I can't remember," Anna says (it's a pretty safe bet that the Russian royal family never went to a restaurant). "Poor Princess," Erich jokes and then gives her a portrait of a young Anastasia right there in the restaurant.
When a lady friend of Erich's sees him in the restaurant, she gets all catty and demands an introduction. "Isabel von Hohenstauffen...Anastasia Romanov," he smoothly announces to a shocked Isabel (Elke Sommer), who not wonders aloud of Cyril knows, but then snarls at how Anna has so bewitches Erich. "It's simply too amusing, you introducing me to her with a straight face. Me, a Hohenstauffen?" she laughs, though her familial dynasty had been dead for centuries. "It might interest you to know I knew the Romanovs, and you are nothing like them, my dear, nothing. I don't know where you get the nerve...all she wants is money," the aging Isabel intones. "She's an empty-headed bitch," Erich tells Anna, noting that situations like this will occur.
At Erich's summer house, he has umpteen pictures laid out to prompt Anna. "Oh, Erich, is this really going to work?" "It's the only way," he replies, awfully sure of his plan. That's all well and good, but the bad news is that the Dowager Empress has denied her request to be seen. "I only want what's mine, my name," Anna complains, but Erich reminds her of "the power and position" that accompany the name and the family is concerned about all of that, even if she isn't. "We must find a memory in that head of yours that only Anastasia could know, something in no book or photograph," he tells her matter-of-fact. And then day in, day out, he drills her. Eventually, she just happens to remember her mother's brother paying a visit in 1916, which should strike you as odd (it does to Erich) because Germany and Russia were on opposite sides of the war and the Duke of Hesse paying a visit would had to have been done with the utmost secrecy.
The great Olivia de Havilland works her talent effortlessly. Her daughter tries to convince her to see the woman, but the Dowager Empress knows the pitfalls of that, so she rallies the troops. "How many have we?" she asks, before being wheeled in to see them. "Sixteen? Sixteen Romanovs in one room? It's been some time," she marvels, with just a hint of sarcasm. But get her big moment! "Stop!" she tells her retainer. "I wish to make an entrance," she commands and gets up to do it on her own. Decades of experience went into that line and the entrance, all done flawlessly. "There are 47 Romanovs alive in Europe at this time. The issue we must face is, are there 48? We must speak about this Anastasia woman," she commands with an iron whisper, but Cyril is determined to shoot holes in the memory. No one remembers the Duke of Hesse's visit, and he himself has denied it, though she can chalk that up to his "political ambitions." The scene, which is really between Olivia de Havilland and Rex Harrison, two old pros, crackles with perfection. Goldman's writing is thorough and efficient, and the arguments and counterarguments are the summation of the whole movie, delivered without the woman's presence. It's all about politics.
Obviously it's too premature for Maria Fedorovna to see Anna, but she can keep sending the minions, and a train load of them arrives to make their judgments. Princess Olga has brought all of the closest family servants with her at the thrilling conclusion of the miniseries' first portion. She recognizes them all: Sasha, her governess, her tutor, Dr. Markov's children, including Serge (Nicholas Surovy) and the others. "It's not a question of your recognizing them. It's whether they know you," Aunt Olga says. Serge insists it's Anastasia, but the older retainers deny her. "There has been only one resurrection," she is told, and when Sasha denies her, it's over. Prince Erich knows they are all playing politics and exposes the naysayers for their politics (as well as the cheerleaders, who have them too). "The Empress needs proof," Aunt Olga says. "What we know is that we shall never know," she says as final judgement. "I hope you suffer. I hope you all suffer," Anna rails as she runs from the train. "You won't ever see the Empress now," Prince Erich admits, and Anna knows it's true. "We have each other, that's enough," Erich says.
But is it? That route to her grandmother may be closed, but all is not lost. Serge jumps off the train. A newspaper reporter now, Serge "knows a story," for sure, and follows Anna to Erich's summer cottage, claiming "I wouldn't hurt her for the world" to Erich.
Before Serge comes back into things, there is a rather useless scene where Erich proposes to Anna (after giving her a tiara). We know they don't get married because Anna did not marry until years later, and it was to an American. It's her reasons for saying no that are important. As much of a fortune hunter as Erich may be, Anna is obsessed with proving who she is, and will not let anything, not even love or marriage, stand in her way.
Serge wants to take Anna to America, for "publicity." They all feel that if Anna dazzles the American public, it will "put pressure on the family." That's a rather dubious outcome, considering how titled Europe felt about Americans, but Anna doesn't know that. She's a meal ticket for many now. But, where better to put on a grand show than in America, loaded with money and success after the world war, unlike Europe, and dying for royalty in any form. Erich doesn't want to be a part of it and will not go.
She goes anyway, and the adoration starts on the crossing, where the ship's captain lets her man the wheel as she tells stories about being on her father's yacht. "You are a real-life fairy tale," Serge tells her, as telegrams pour into the ship. "After tomorrow, no more privacy. What you will be is a celebrity!" he says, much to her bewilderment, but his own satisfaction. America in the 1920s created more phony celebrities than even 80 or 90 years later. The history books are filled with people and their 15 minutes even before Andy Warhol coined the phrase. And boy did America love royalty!
A mob scene is there to watch Anna disembark, with bands and flowers, the whole deal. Serge's paper, particularly its editor Harvey Coward (Shane Rimmer) have made sure Anna is a sensation wherever she goes, with constant press coverage. She catches on very quickly, giving a royal wave to the crowd at the hotel, where they are flying the Imperial Russian flag. Serge is in it only for the money (his paper is paying for everything), but he knows how to lay it on thick to keep Anna interested. He produces a sketch of Anastasia he did years ago (we saw it in an earlier scene).
Anna is showered in furs, jewels and clothing, on loan, giving her a dizzying sense of self. Swathed in only the best and most luxurious, fit for a princess, Anna is taken to meet New York's Russian emigres, including Darya, a Romanov cousin (Susan Lucci) married to an American. Darya insists she's Anastasia from across the room. "You can't imagine what it means to us, having you here. It means so much," she says, speaking for the whole community, desperate to believe, and all looking for some glamour. And they get it. In a scene reminiscent of the first in the movie, Anna is paraded into a room, announced by her formal title, where rows and rows of elegantly-dressed White Russians bow to her properly and kiss her hand. A single tear runs down Anna's cheek as she walks the line, but one can't help but wonder just what it's for. Is she now so enamored of the idea of being Anastasia, that she revels in the pomp, or is she a tad ashamed? And the crowd doesn't really care if she is Anastasia or not; they want a return to glory, American style, which means faux-European style. Dig the reaction of Princess Troubestskaya (Betty Marsden), whose over the top hand-kissing and insistence that Anastasia has the Tsarina's eyes cause even Darya to gag a bit.
"I feel as though you've changed my whole life," Anna tells Darya. "Not yet, but I will! How can the Empress not embrace you? But she will, you'll see," a confident Darya insists.
Erich, upset at the publicity machine and the changes he feels just from Anna's telegrams, heads off to see the Dowager Empress, who is ill in bed. "Do you think I care what anyone in America thinks? At my age, I don't much care what anyone thinks," she huffs, but she is reading the articles. "She's a pretty thing, I'll give you that. I take it you're in love with her? What's that to me? Is that supposed to sway my feelings?" she asks. Maria wants to believe Anna is Anastasia, but she has to maintain the demeanor of one who doesn't believe, because believing is too politically charged. After giving a speech about being on the throne herself, she asks, "what does she look like, this love of yours," careful to phrase it as such, but the veneer slips a bit when she asks, "does she resemble me at all?" When she realizes she may be revealing too much, she sends Erich off and confides to her daughter she is considering receiving Anna, "just to see the look on Cyril's face," though it's obvious she truly wants to believe her granddaughter is still alive.
They will never meet as the Dowager Empress dies. Anna and Darya get the news while enjoying themselves at a lunch, watching young girls dance. Darya has just confessed to having married her husband because "I had the title and he had the money. Be careful who you envy, Anna, and be careful what you throw away," she wisely tells Anna. She reminds Anna of all that comes with the title, mainly the money, telling her not to put it in front of love. Whatever chance Anna had of being recognized is now officially dead along with the Empress.
Serge has instructed Darya not to tell Anna of the Empress' death, but Anna stops by a store selling Russian artifacts and recognizes items from her past. When the shopkeeper recognizes her, he shows her everything he has, including a Faberge egg that was a gift from the Empress (in fact, the gift would have gone the other way, as her husband started the tradition of giving her the eggs and her son kept it up as long as he could). "Oh, I'm so sorry," the man says after mentioning the Empress. "Don't!" Darya jumps in, but Anna knows something is wrong and Darya has to tell her the truth right there. Initially calm, Anna sees a doll and goes into full hysterics over the entire situation. The script doesn't show it, but Anna knows, even if not fully, that it's over.
Darya is more certain. "He's the only one that counts," she tells Serge, who has started to believe the hoopla he created. "Damn. Damn! Why did the Empress have to die?" he asks. He knows it's over too. Cyril gathers the family in mourning and officially denounces Anna, "this creature living in New York." The European Romanovs are commanded to go along with Cyril's denial. He growls at the press and even threatens to sue her if she continues her quest. "We will not tolerate this folly any longer," he barks and stalks off, followed by the family.
In New York, the emigre community gathers at a church to pay their respects to the Dowager Empress. The same people who clasped Anna to their bosoms are shocked to see her at the church. Darya senses their anger and tells Anna, "I should never have let you come." "Look at her, dressed in black, as if she ever knew the Empress. I actually kissed her hand. The little witch made fools of us," Princess Troubetskaya clucks so Anna can hear. No, Princess, you made fools of yourselves, believing only what you were told and now doing it again, just in reverse. The Princess gets even nastier, and Anna argues. Darya tries to tell her, "they don't matter," but when even the priest ignores her, Anna gets hysterical on the church steps and makes the scene worse. "They never believed in me, not any of them!" she yells. "It's not as if the whole world is against you," Darya tells her. Anna decides there to take Cyril to court, using his words against him. "You can't defy the family," Darya recommends. "No, just watch me," Anna decides and strides off.
The paper re-assigns Serge to another story because the family denial has deflated the story? "Who should you believe? Our articles or every living Romanov?" his boss muses. "She's a dead horse, she's not going anywhere." Not only are the stories over, but the bill paying is also ending. "When a stock stops making money, you unload it," he tells Serge, making him lower the boom. When he gives Anna the news, he also admits he doesn't believe she's Anastasia. "Who in God's name do you think I am?" "I have no idea," he confesses before she slaps him. "You're worse than Cyril, he's a monster, but he doesn't hide it," before answering the door for the men who have come to collect the luxury items on loan. Even Darya turns her back on Anna. Cyril has "ordered" her to turn Anna way. "We must follow him as if he were the Tsar," she reminds Anna. "If I were to stand up to Cyril, I would be in disgrace and I would risk losing Billy wouldn't I? There are more titles in this world than millionaires and I can't risk losing what I have...for anything, not even you" she confesses honestly. "Can you forgive me?" Darya asks. Oh, no! Anna isn't that much of a doormat.
Alone and homeless, Anna has a cup of coffee in a diner, rips up the picture of young Anastasia and Prince Erich comes in to rescue her. Okay, it's a dopey touch, I'll admit it. "You came for me?" "I should have done it long ago. I'm not good without you and you are clearly a disaster without me," he tells her. Erich, the one we expected to be the biggest grabber of all, is her true love, Anna's true love. They even get a bedroom scene.
The next morning, Erich tells Anna of his conversation with the Empress and he thinks she should sue Cyril. They hire a no-nonsense lawyer, Kurt Vermehren (Jerome Willis). He asks her why she wants to bother. "So when the stonemasons go to carve my tombstone, they'll have a name to put on there," she replies. She wants to no money and she knows the case may drag on for years, with Cyril holding her "up to public ridicule." Still, she insists on the suit. "Every history book in print tells us you're dead," he reminds her. "I've found no evidence that supports your claim." Plus, Anna and Erich have no money, whereas Cyril has unlimited resources. Kurt insists on dental tests, ear tests, psychiatric tests, all of it. Against all odds, and all of Kurt's scare tactics, Anna vows to fight. "I don't propose to lose this case, but at this point, I don't have one," he says, convinced to help her when she said she only wanted her name.
Anna undergoes hypnosis where the doctor takes her back to the night of the killing and she either gives a great performance or actually writhes in pain remembering it. Ultimately, Anna and Cyril are in the same room as their lawyers argue. "When I'm done with you Madam, you'll have nothing, you'll be torn to ribbons," the cranky patriarch scowls.
There was no final proof that Anna was or was not Anastasia and after decades of wrangling, Anna moved to the United States as the sort of kookie old lady in the style of Grey Gardens.
Did Anna believe what she was saying? Did she want to be head of a dynasty (which did not allow female heads except under extreme circumstances.
The story of Anna is certainly captivating, but told many times. What makes it work so well here is, first, James Goldman's script. He looks at this from all angles. The condescension of Grand Duke Cyril is natural, but the reactions of Darya and various other people who knew Anastasia is layered with everything but the truth. Everyone here has an angle, even, perhaps, Anna herself. Goldman goes to great lengths to show us Anna only when she believes everything she is saying, but by doubting the story just enough through other, more mercenary characters, it's impossible not to wonder if she's not just giving a performance.
Of course, the actors are next in line. Amy Irving, always a terrific actress, gives a remarkable performance. Too old to play Anna, she nevertheless shatters all of that. She has the regal air of a princess when she needs it, but underneath lurks a broken peasant. Her performance adds to the mystery. Olivia de Havilland cannot possibly equal what Helen Hayes did in "Anastasia," but Hayes had the advantage of a scene with her granddaughter, not at all historically accurate, that de Havilland does not have the chance to play. That's okay, she has plenty to do and really does turn in a fascinating performance, her second-to-last as of this writing, and her best of the late-career roles she took (only Aunt Bessie in "The Woman He Loved" was left after this one). Rex Harrison is appropriately nasty, and Jan Niklas is both romantic and a bit shady. Even Susan Lucci gets caught up in the fun and has a grand time playing a vivacious Russian emigre.
This story just refuses to die because it's so juicy. Anna got so far in her quest to prove she was Anastasia and if she ultimately failed, one would believe that it was a fickle public and politics that doomed her, rather than the truth. In this version, the truth hardly matters. In the 20th Century, the world saw the end to nearly every royal dynasty (the Windsors had position, but no power and the royalty of places like The Netherlands and Monte Carlo in Europe escaped with decorum, but not much else) and their prestige was replaced by the concept of celebrity. One didn't need a title to be a celebrity, but in this story, it sure as hell was a good impetus. That's really the heft behind the story here, good old Jazz Age hucksterism.
This is a retelling of the story you may have seen in the Ingrid Bergman-Yul Brynner masterpiece "Anastasia," but that one did not even attempt much truth (sumptuous though it is). This one is closer. First, let's discuss the facts. Not disputed is the revolution of 1917 that overthrew the Tsar, who was sent to an outpost with his family and a few servants until the Communists finally solidified their power and had the royal family murdered. A few years later, a woman popped up claiming to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia, youngest daughter of the Tsar. For decades until her death in 1980, the woman swore to it. She had knowledge and even marks on her body that most thought impossible to have unless she was actually Anastasia. Throw in possibly missing bones from the pit where the dead family was tossed and maybe there was a chance. The royal family in exile refused to accept Anna Anderson (as she called herself), mainly for political and financial reasons. By the time this movie was made, that much was the truth. Since then, however, DNA testing has proven that Anna Anderson was indeed not the Grand Duchess. Read Peter Kurth's book (on which this was based) for more details.
In just that description, the story of Anastasia is ripe for miniseriesalization. Royalty, tragedy, mystery, epic span, that's the kind of stuff the American miniseries thrived on. Plus, it has parts for oodles of slumming actors (although I wouldn't call this slumming as it's so beautifully done). It doesn't worry about the truth because it doesn't have to. Telling the story is more important than the story itself in such a murky historical situation, and this one clicks!
In 1916, St. Petersburg was still the domain of the Tsar and his family, the wealthiest and most autocratic of all the European royal families (though not that many would remain by the end of World War I). At a grand ball, we meet them: the Tsar (Omar Sharif), the Tsarina (Claire Bloom), the Dowager Empress (Olivia de Havilland, in a Golden Globe-winning/Emmy-nominated performance), four daughters and young Tsarevich Alexis, the sickly heir to the throne. Okay, fine Omar Sharif is not exactly ideally cast as Nicholas II, but he paints the Tsar with the sympathy this movie desires. Starting off the dancing, he picks Anastasia, who is stopped by her grandmother and told, "you are my special love, you know." Supposedly she was the darling of the family.
A narrator barges in with news from the estimable James Goldman's screenplay that just two months later, "the time was ripe for revolution" based on a number of historical factors. Just to get it out of the way, Tsarina Alexandra confides in her friend Sophie (Andrea Brettlebauer) that "those terrible people" Lenin, Trotsky and the rest are "in exile" and life would be better "if only Rasputin were alive...he was a saint, you know." History has told the tale of Rasputin often enough that we can skip it here. The rising tide of revolution is kept from the children, at least as much as possible, with the Tsarina telling them only half truths.
Even after the Tsar's abdication in the summer of 1917, the royal family still lives in luxury, with tutors and servants aplenty, at least until they are banished to Siberia. The Tsar assures his children "by Christmas, we shall all be in London...what matters most is that we are all together." Ready to go, Anastasia takes one last whirl in the imperial dance floor, covered in darkness. "I shan't be here again. We won't be coming back here. Not ever," is her prophecy to her governess Sasha (Carol Gillies).
At the train station, a surly soldier demands to know why the Tsar has brought so many people, the entire household. The soldier says, "I have orders only for your family and the doctor," but the Tsar tries to cling to a vestige of power and scoffs that "I have endured enough." The soldier backs down and lets everyone on the train, disguised as a Red Cross train. Christmas passes and they are still in Siberia, with governments in Moscow changing. Life is not unbearable...yet.
That doesn't happen until the Communists show up, relieving the army of command. "We did try," the soldier says after being dismissed. "Where are our friends? Where's King George? Where's President Wilson?" an increasingly agitated Tsarina wants to know of her husband, who has the reality of the situation etched on his face. "Where's your mother? Safe in England? How come she can't make them listen. She could always make you listen," the Tsarina snarls. That lacks a little historical accuracy, though Alexandra wouldn't have known that. Maria Fedorovna just barely escaped Russia with her life after a dicey time evading one government or another.
Anastasia (played as a child by Jennifer Dundas along with Christian Bale's Alexis) is cheeky, demanding to know of the Comrade in charge what their crime is and then why he's so hostile to them. "Have you ever been in prison?" she asks. He has, for "printing leaflets." "That's a lot more than I've done," the perceptive princess notes. Alexis, having just delivered a speech to his sister about how he's always known he would die young, decides to prove it by riding a sled down the stairs, a dangerous move for such a severe hemophiliac. Predictably, Alexis is bed-bound and the Comrade is angry, saying, "I have no time to spare...fetch me a doctor from the town, I want another man's opinion" after hearing it could be months before Alexis can be moved.
Rather than going to Moscow as promised, the royal family is taken to remote Yekaterinburg in the driving rain, where their servants are dismissed except for Dr. Markov (Arnold Diamond). "You are of no earthly use to me. You are free to go," the loyal retainers are told, standing in a confused huddle in the rain. Weeks go by and the family is told nothing of the outside world until hearing artillery in the distance, their saviors.
In the middle of the night, they are woken up and told "there is an emergency" and they must be moved. What follows is one of the 20th Century's most defining moments, soaked in truths, half-truths and outright lies by ardent royalists, historical apologists, Communists and everyone else with a theory to share. One era must end in order for a new one to begin. We were told that on a very clinical and rational level by Communist intransigence, though nearly a century later it's become obvious that fear was as much a factor as anything else. The key word in the earlier sentence is "must." In order for the Communists to secure control over the country, there must be no rivals for power. Any rival could undermine their shaky government.
But history isn't our reason for being here. The American miniseries is. The family and the doctor wait in a dark basement cell for the next move, not the one expected. "My orders have finally come. I am to execute you all." An overwhelming volley of shots ring out. With that, the Romanov dynasty comes to a tragic end. The Romanovs-in-exile are the de facto heads of Russia, but there will be no resurrection of rule.
Berlin, 1923. A gaunt young woman in rags (Amy Irving) ascends a bridge, crosses herself and jumps. She is saved and brought to a hospital, forced to stay in the psych ward because no one knows who she is, and that's where attempted suicides go. Clara (Angela Pleasance), apparently convinces she's a refuge from a Dickens miniseries sporting the dumbest of cockney accents, assures the woman, "I'm as sane as you are." Yeah, that's why they have given you 80s crazy person make-up (you know the look I'm talking about).
Dr. Hauser (Edward Fox) takes on the woman's case. He finds out about the large amount of bullet scars on her body, assuming, like everyone else, that "she got them in the war" since they date back to that period. She's also "had at least one child and there are signs of malnutrition." The woman's accent is so upper class British that she can't possibly be working-class German. That's actually a rare misstep in this production, but typical of the time period. In order to be a European aristocrat, one has to be able to speak upper class British. Forget that she's Russian, or maybe German. Anna Anderson was most definitely not British. She has no memories and cannot answer Dr. Hauser's questions. Why did she jump? "I can't imagine," she says rather regally, if frightened.
Well, she doesn't make much of a case for herself with her "I can't remember" routine, which leaves her with scary-as-a-clown Clara. "Once I see a face, I never forget it," Clara keeps telling her, knowing she's seen the mystery woman before. She instantly figures it out, the woman is the Grand Duchess Anastasia, and she has a magazine picture under her bed to prove it! "Are you a princess?" Clara asks. Dr. Hauser doesn't initially get very far with her. She can't remember why she has scars, but she knows her native language is Russian. How? "I dream in Russian," but she refuses to speak it. When the police return for their report, they need a picture and the big flash sends her into a rage. "You tried to kill me, but I didn't die!" she yells, going into such a rage that she has to be sedated and put into a padded cell with a straight jacket.
Since the woman has thrown out the name Alexis in her howling, Dr. Hauser asks if it was her dog. "Don't be ridiculous," she chides, but the woman initially refuses to say more than "they lied to us, that's all they ever did. They promised we'd be safe and look what happened." She claims that "they" would kill her if "they knew I was still alive," as Dr. Hauser gets closer to the truth. She then goes on to describe the shooting and notes that she wished she had died. "I'm the only one who is left. Why was I saved? Why take my brother and not me? He might have been the Tsar someday."
Bingo!
"I am her Imperial Highness, the Grand Duchess Anastasia," she finally reveals, managing to convey a regal air through an exhausted body and face.
Dr. Hauser is not convinced, and particularly peeved when it's leaked to the press. But, he's also rational. "How many have there been? Dozens in the last year, they keep cropping up like daisies," he tells his nurse. It's true. There was something of a cottage industry of fake Anastasias, along with fake Olgas, fake TatianasHauser perks up. No one has ever mentioned the dog's name before.
The doctor invites family members to come see her, but the head of the family keeps them away, all except for Prince Erich (a devastatingly handsome Jan Niklaus, who is invented for this story as the Yul Brynner character was in the other version), a very distant relative. "I never thought she'd be so beautiful" is his reaction," since there weren't too many lookers among European royals of the period. Anna, as she is now called, sits in a chair with a stiff back and majestic bearing to receive her visitor. "You've come to test me," she immediately realizes, so she tells Erich what she remembers and what she's been told: she survived, was found by a peasant, was taken to Bucharest and lived there recovering for two years. She remembers nothing of Bucharest, not an address, "no witnesses to anything," as Prince Erich puts it. She married the peasant and bore him a son, but both died, but the baby died and the husband was murdered for her jewels. It's the jewels that interest Dr. Hauser as they had always been cited as a possible way for survival. Sewn into their gowns (a historically accurate fact), the gems could have deflected bullets. Okay, not the zillions that went into the Romanovs, but it's been an important rallying point. She wandered around after that, remembering her paternal grandmother, but got as far as Berlin.
"Drivel. I've never heard such patent drivel in all my life." That's the word of the Grand Duke Cyril (Rex Harrison), the family's leader, and the one with the most to lose should one of the Tsar's daughters be alive (his own relatives had nothing but nasty things to say about him in the decades following the Russian Revolution, and this miniseries treats him no better). Cyril can easily shoot holes in Anna's story, especially the peasant and all that nonsense. Erich decides to "risk it," though Cyril feels there is no risk, and bring Anna to someone who knew her, not a relative who barely every saw her. Grand Duchess Victoria (Rachel Gurney) takes Prince Erich's side and goes off to find people who fit that bill. "You should meet her," Erich tells Cyril. "Never."
Anna is brought to the mansion, where it has been decided Sophie will be the one to meet her. She has been forced to confront many of the frauds, and this one is particularly challenging because "of all the girls, Anna was my favorite," she tells Victoria. It starts off poorly when Anna asks if they have met before. "You should recognize me, Anastasia would!" Sophie barks. But, Anna gets there, though Sophie is unconvinced. She has no items of Anastasia's and she refuses to speak Russian (upper crust British will have to do). "It's not her face, it's not her voice. I don't know who you are," is the judgment. Anna falls to the floor in dejection. Prince Erich is "convinced she is real" and tells the doctor so, because he saw Sophie's face. He refuses to give up.
In fact, Erich is so full of energy for her cause that he takes Anna to his home, buys her a wardrobe and forces her to confront the world. He explains to her that his family was killed by the Bolsheviks and then the fortune was seized when the Kaiser abdicated. "The truth is, we were born to late. We don't belong in the 1920s. I was raised to be a prince and you know what that means. I can talk along with any subject, but I have no useful skills," he tells her. If you are a cynic, this is the time to start wondering why Erich believes her. Is it to regain his lost life? Anna wonders, and his answer is awfully wan. The cynics can still hope that he's a rascal and a liar.
As Erich launches Anna into society, they of course fall in love, a gooey situation that we knew was inevitable and simply have to suffer through because it's a miniseries and these are the rules. "Mama never let us go to restaurants, or if she did, I can't remember," Anna says (it's a pretty safe bet that the Russian royal family never went to a restaurant). "Poor Princess," Erich jokes and then gives her a portrait of a young Anastasia right there in the restaurant.
When a lady friend of Erich's sees him in the restaurant, she gets all catty and demands an introduction. "Isabel von Hohenstauffen...Anastasia Romanov," he smoothly announces to a shocked Isabel (Elke Sommer), who not wonders aloud of Cyril knows, but then snarls at how Anna has so bewitches Erich. "It's simply too amusing, you introducing me to her with a straight face. Me, a Hohenstauffen?" she laughs, though her familial dynasty had been dead for centuries. "It might interest you to know I knew the Romanovs, and you are nothing like them, my dear, nothing. I don't know where you get the nerve...all she wants is money," the aging Isabel intones. "She's an empty-headed bitch," Erich tells Anna, noting that situations like this will occur.
At Erich's summer house, he has umpteen pictures laid out to prompt Anna. "Oh, Erich, is this really going to work?" "It's the only way," he replies, awfully sure of his plan. That's all well and good, but the bad news is that the Dowager Empress has denied her request to be seen. "I only want what's mine, my name," Anna complains, but Erich reminds her of "the power and position" that accompany the name and the family is concerned about all of that, even if she isn't. "We must find a memory in that head of yours that only Anastasia could know, something in no book or photograph," he tells her matter-of-fact. And then day in, day out, he drills her. Eventually, she just happens to remember her mother's brother paying a visit in 1916, which should strike you as odd (it does to Erich) because Germany and Russia were on opposite sides of the war and the Duke of Hesse paying a visit would had to have been done with the utmost secrecy.
The great Olivia de Havilland works her talent effortlessly. Her daughter tries to convince her to see the woman, but the Dowager Empress knows the pitfalls of that, so she rallies the troops. "How many have we?" she asks, before being wheeled in to see them. "Sixteen? Sixteen Romanovs in one room? It's been some time," she marvels, with just a hint of sarcasm. But get her big moment! "Stop!" she tells her retainer. "I wish to make an entrance," she commands and gets up to do it on her own. Decades of experience went into that line and the entrance, all done flawlessly. "There are 47 Romanovs alive in Europe at this time. The issue we must face is, are there 48? We must speak about this Anastasia woman," she commands with an iron whisper, but Cyril is determined to shoot holes in the memory. No one remembers the Duke of Hesse's visit, and he himself has denied it, though she can chalk that up to his "political ambitions." The scene, which is really between Olivia de Havilland and Rex Harrison, two old pros, crackles with perfection. Goldman's writing is thorough and efficient, and the arguments and counterarguments are the summation of the whole movie, delivered without the woman's presence. It's all about politics.
Obviously it's too premature for Maria Fedorovna to see Anna, but she can keep sending the minions, and a train load of them arrives to make their judgments. Princess Olga has brought all of the closest family servants with her at the thrilling conclusion of the miniseries' first portion. She recognizes them all: Sasha, her governess, her tutor, Dr. Markov's children, including Serge (Nicholas Surovy) and the others. "It's not a question of your recognizing them. It's whether they know you," Aunt Olga says. Serge insists it's Anastasia, but the older retainers deny her. "There has been only one resurrection," she is told, and when Sasha denies her, it's over. Prince Erich knows they are all playing politics and exposes the naysayers for their politics (as well as the cheerleaders, who have them too). "The Empress needs proof," Aunt Olga says. "What we know is that we shall never know," she says as final judgement. "I hope you suffer. I hope you all suffer," Anna rails as she runs from the train. "You won't ever see the Empress now," Prince Erich admits, and Anna knows it's true. "We have each other, that's enough," Erich says.
But is it? That route to her grandmother may be closed, but all is not lost. Serge jumps off the train. A newspaper reporter now, Serge "knows a story," for sure, and follows Anna to Erich's summer cottage, claiming "I wouldn't hurt her for the world" to Erich.
Before Serge comes back into things, there is a rather useless scene where Erich proposes to Anna (after giving her a tiara). We know they don't get married because Anna did not marry until years later, and it was to an American. It's her reasons for saying no that are important. As much of a fortune hunter as Erich may be, Anna is obsessed with proving who she is, and will not let anything, not even love or marriage, stand in her way.
Serge wants to take Anna to America, for "publicity." They all feel that if Anna dazzles the American public, it will "put pressure on the family." That's a rather dubious outcome, considering how titled Europe felt about Americans, but Anna doesn't know that. She's a meal ticket for many now. But, where better to put on a grand show than in America, loaded with money and success after the world war, unlike Europe, and dying for royalty in any form. Erich doesn't want to be a part of it and will not go.
She goes anyway, and the adoration starts on the crossing, where the ship's captain lets her man the wheel as she tells stories about being on her father's yacht. "You are a real-life fairy tale," Serge tells her, as telegrams pour into the ship. "After tomorrow, no more privacy. What you will be is a celebrity!" he says, much to her bewilderment, but his own satisfaction. America in the 1920s created more phony celebrities than even 80 or 90 years later. The history books are filled with people and their 15 minutes even before Andy Warhol coined the phrase. And boy did America love royalty!
A mob scene is there to watch Anna disembark, with bands and flowers, the whole deal. Serge's paper, particularly its editor Harvey Coward (Shane Rimmer) have made sure Anna is a sensation wherever she goes, with constant press coverage. She catches on very quickly, giving a royal wave to the crowd at the hotel, where they are flying the Imperial Russian flag. Serge is in it only for the money (his paper is paying for everything), but he knows how to lay it on thick to keep Anna interested. He produces a sketch of Anastasia he did years ago (we saw it in an earlier scene).
Anna is showered in furs, jewels and clothing, on loan, giving her a dizzying sense of self. Swathed in only the best and most luxurious, fit for a princess, Anna is taken to meet New York's Russian emigres, including Darya, a Romanov cousin (Susan Lucci) married to an American. Darya insists she's Anastasia from across the room. "You can't imagine what it means to us, having you here. It means so much," she says, speaking for the whole community, desperate to believe, and all looking for some glamour. And they get it. In a scene reminiscent of the first in the movie, Anna is paraded into a room, announced by her formal title, where rows and rows of elegantly-dressed White Russians bow to her properly and kiss her hand. A single tear runs down Anna's cheek as she walks the line, but one can't help but wonder just what it's for. Is she now so enamored of the idea of being Anastasia, that she revels in the pomp, or is she a tad ashamed? And the crowd doesn't really care if she is Anastasia or not; they want a return to glory, American style, which means faux-European style. Dig the reaction of Princess Troubestskaya (Betty Marsden), whose over the top hand-kissing and insistence that Anastasia has the Tsarina's eyes cause even Darya to gag a bit.
"I feel as though you've changed my whole life," Anna tells Darya. "Not yet, but I will! How can the Empress not embrace you? But she will, you'll see," a confident Darya insists.
Erich, upset at the publicity machine and the changes he feels just from Anna's telegrams, heads off to see the Dowager Empress, who is ill in bed. "Do you think I care what anyone in America thinks? At my age, I don't much care what anyone thinks," she huffs, but she is reading the articles. "She's a pretty thing, I'll give you that. I take it you're in love with her? What's that to me? Is that supposed to sway my feelings?" she asks. Maria wants to believe Anna is Anastasia, but she has to maintain the demeanor of one who doesn't believe, because believing is too politically charged. After giving a speech about being on the throne herself, she asks, "what does she look like, this love of yours," careful to phrase it as such, but the veneer slips a bit when she asks, "does she resemble me at all?" When she realizes she may be revealing too much, she sends Erich off and confides to her daughter she is considering receiving Anna, "just to see the look on Cyril's face," though it's obvious she truly wants to believe her granddaughter is still alive.
They will never meet as the Dowager Empress dies. Anna and Darya get the news while enjoying themselves at a lunch, watching young girls dance. Darya has just confessed to having married her husband because "I had the title and he had the money. Be careful who you envy, Anna, and be careful what you throw away," she wisely tells Anna. She reminds Anna of all that comes with the title, mainly the money, telling her not to put it in front of love. Whatever chance Anna had of being recognized is now officially dead along with the Empress.
Serge has instructed Darya not to tell Anna of the Empress' death, but Anna stops by a store selling Russian artifacts and recognizes items from her past. When the shopkeeper recognizes her, he shows her everything he has, including a Faberge egg that was a gift from the Empress (in fact, the gift would have gone the other way, as her husband started the tradition of giving her the eggs and her son kept it up as long as he could). "Oh, I'm so sorry," the man says after mentioning the Empress. "Don't!" Darya jumps in, but Anna knows something is wrong and Darya has to tell her the truth right there. Initially calm, Anna sees a doll and goes into full hysterics over the entire situation. The script doesn't show it, but Anna knows, even if not fully, that it's over.
Darya is more certain. "He's the only one that counts," she tells Serge, who has started to believe the hoopla he created. "Damn. Damn! Why did the Empress have to die?" he asks. He knows it's over too. Cyril gathers the family in mourning and officially denounces Anna, "this creature living in New York." The European Romanovs are commanded to go along with Cyril's denial. He growls at the press and even threatens to sue her if she continues her quest. "We will not tolerate this folly any longer," he barks and stalks off, followed by the family.
In New York, the emigre community gathers at a church to pay their respects to the Dowager Empress. The same people who clasped Anna to their bosoms are shocked to see her at the church. Darya senses their anger and tells Anna, "I should never have let you come." "Look at her, dressed in black, as if she ever knew the Empress. I actually kissed her hand. The little witch made fools of us," Princess Troubetskaya clucks so Anna can hear. No, Princess, you made fools of yourselves, believing only what you were told and now doing it again, just in reverse. The Princess gets even nastier, and Anna argues. Darya tries to tell her, "they don't matter," but when even the priest ignores her, Anna gets hysterical on the church steps and makes the scene worse. "They never believed in me, not any of them!" she yells. "It's not as if the whole world is against you," Darya tells her. Anna decides there to take Cyril to court, using his words against him. "You can't defy the family," Darya recommends. "No, just watch me," Anna decides and strides off.
The paper re-assigns Serge to another story because the family denial has deflated the story? "Who should you believe? Our articles or every living Romanov?" his boss muses. "She's a dead horse, she's not going anywhere." Not only are the stories over, but the bill paying is also ending. "When a stock stops making money, you unload it," he tells Serge, making him lower the boom. When he gives Anna the news, he also admits he doesn't believe she's Anastasia. "Who in God's name do you think I am?" "I have no idea," he confesses before she slaps him. "You're worse than Cyril, he's a monster, but he doesn't hide it," before answering the door for the men who have come to collect the luxury items on loan. Even Darya turns her back on Anna. Cyril has "ordered" her to turn Anna way. "We must follow him as if he were the Tsar," she reminds Anna. "If I were to stand up to Cyril, I would be in disgrace and I would risk losing Billy wouldn't I? There are more titles in this world than millionaires and I can't risk losing what I have...for anything, not even you" she confesses honestly. "Can you forgive me?" Darya asks. Oh, no! Anna isn't that much of a doormat.
Alone and homeless, Anna has a cup of coffee in a diner, rips up the picture of young Anastasia and Prince Erich comes in to rescue her. Okay, it's a dopey touch, I'll admit it. "You came for me?" "I should have done it long ago. I'm not good without you and you are clearly a disaster without me," he tells her. Erich, the one we expected to be the biggest grabber of all, is her true love, Anna's true love. They even get a bedroom scene.
The next morning, Erich tells Anna of his conversation with the Empress and he thinks she should sue Cyril. They hire a no-nonsense lawyer, Kurt Vermehren (Jerome Willis). He asks her why she wants to bother. "So when the stonemasons go to carve my tombstone, they'll have a name to put on there," she replies. She wants to no money and she knows the case may drag on for years, with Cyril holding her "up to public ridicule." Still, she insists on the suit. "Every history book in print tells us you're dead," he reminds her. "I've found no evidence that supports your claim." Plus, Anna and Erich have no money, whereas Cyril has unlimited resources. Kurt insists on dental tests, ear tests, psychiatric tests, all of it. Against all odds, and all of Kurt's scare tactics, Anna vows to fight. "I don't propose to lose this case, but at this point, I don't have one," he says, convinced to help her when she said she only wanted her name.
Anna undergoes hypnosis where the doctor takes her back to the night of the killing and she either gives a great performance or actually writhes in pain remembering it. Ultimately, Anna and Cyril are in the same room as their lawyers argue. "When I'm done with you Madam, you'll have nothing, you'll be torn to ribbons," the cranky patriarch scowls.
There was no final proof that Anna was or was not Anastasia and after decades of wrangling, Anna moved to the United States as the sort of kookie old lady in the style of Grey Gardens.
Did Anna believe what she was saying? Did she want to be head of a dynasty (which did not allow female heads except under extreme circumstances.
The story of Anna is certainly captivating, but told many times. What makes it work so well here is, first, James Goldman's script. He looks at this from all angles. The condescension of Grand Duke Cyril is natural, but the reactions of Darya and various other people who knew Anastasia is layered with everything but the truth. Everyone here has an angle, even, perhaps, Anna herself. Goldman goes to great lengths to show us Anna only when she believes everything she is saying, but by doubting the story just enough through other, more mercenary characters, it's impossible not to wonder if she's not just giving a performance.
Of course, the actors are next in line. Amy Irving, always a terrific actress, gives a remarkable performance. Too old to play Anna, she nevertheless shatters all of that. She has the regal air of a princess when she needs it, but underneath lurks a broken peasant. Her performance adds to the mystery. Olivia de Havilland cannot possibly equal what Helen Hayes did in "Anastasia," but Hayes had the advantage of a scene with her granddaughter, not at all historically accurate, that de Havilland does not have the chance to play. That's okay, she has plenty to do and really does turn in a fascinating performance, her second-to-last as of this writing, and her best of the late-career roles she took (only Aunt Bessie in "The Woman He Loved" was left after this one). Rex Harrison is appropriately nasty, and Jan Niklas is both romantic and a bit shady. Even Susan Lucci gets caught up in the fun and has a grand time playing a vivacious Russian emigre.
This story just refuses to die because it's so juicy. Anna got so far in her quest to prove she was Anastasia and if she ultimately failed, one would believe that it was a fickle public and politics that doomed her, rather than the truth. In this version, the truth hardly matters. In the 20th Century, the world saw the end to nearly every royal dynasty (the Windsors had position, but no power and the royalty of places like The Netherlands and Monte Carlo in Europe escaped with decorum, but not much else) and their prestige was replaced by the concept of celebrity. One didn't need a title to be a celebrity, but in this story, it sure as hell was a good impetus. That's really the heft behind the story here, good old Jazz Age hucksterism.
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