- The perfect wife. The perfect husband. The perfect domicile in Connecticut. I wonder what we can expect here?
It’s the stuff out of which Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman was born. Or would be if it wasn’t so infuriating.
But let’s not forget: It’s not like most folks [either then and there or here and now] sit down when their lives are being shaped and think, “gee, do I want to be like this or somebody else entirely?”
Instead, they live out their lives based on particular historical and cultural narratives. Or do until an experience or a new point of view brings this all into question. Like Cathy walking in on her husband passionaitely kissing another man. And back in 1957 this was a jolt of seismic proportions. As was a white woman befriending a black man. Even in the “liberal” North.
The world is bursting at the seams with folks in possession of small minds. You’ve just got to hope you can steer clear of ones that are also dangerous.
IMDb
Cinematographer Edward Lachman created the 1950s “look” by using the same type of lighting equipment (incandescent), the same lighting techniques, and the same type of lens filters when shooting this film, as would have been used on a 1950s era melodrama.
He did a good job.
FAR FROM HEAVEN [2002]
Written and directed by Todd Haynes
[b]Cathy: I suppose I still can’t imagine why you would want an interview with someone like me in the first place.
Mrs. Leacock: Readers of the Weekly Gazette, Mrs. Whitaker, women just like yourself with families and homes to keep up. A good society paper need not be a gossip rag. You are the proud wife of a successful sales executive planning the parties, and posing at her husband’s side on the advertisements. To everyone here in Connecticut, you are Mr. and Mrs. Magnatech.
…
El [reading the Wekkly Gazette article]: “So, does the fabled maxim hold that behind every great man there resides a great lady? In this case, wife, mother and Mrs. Magnatech herself, Cathleen Whitaker proves that it does. A woman as devoted to her family as she is kind to Negroes.”
Cathy: To Negroes? To Negroes? Let me see that. What on Earth is that woman thinking? El: Cathy? Oh, she’s been liberal ever since she played summer stock at college with all those steamy Jewish boys. Why do you think they used to call her “Red”?
Cathy: Oh, for heaven sakes. Let’s go inside before Joe McCarthy comes driving by.
…
Dr. Bowman: Today, the general attitude regarding this sort of behavior is naturally more modern, more scientific than it ever has been before. But for those who do seek treatment, who possess the will and desire to lead a normal life, there still remains only a scant five to thirty percent rate of success for complete heterosexual conversion.
…
Frank: I want to begin treatment. I can’t let this thing destroy my life, my family’s life. I, uh-I know it’s a sickness, because it makes me feel despicable. I promise you, Dr. Bowman, I’m going to beat this thing. I’m gonna break it. So help me God.
…
Frank: I just want to get this fucking therapy over with!
…
Cathy: I’m not prejudiced. My husband and I have always believed in equal rights for the Negro and support the N.A.A.C.P.
Raymond: I’m glad to hear that.
…
Cathy [to Raymond]: Do you think we ever really do see beyond those things…the surface of things?
…
Raymond: So, what’s your opinion on modern art?
Cathy: It’s hard to put into words, really. I just know what I care for and what I don’t. Like this…I don’t know how to pronounce it… Mira?
Raymond: Miró.
Cathy: Miró. I don’t know why, but I just adore it. The feeling it gives. I know that sounds terribly vague.
Raymond: No. No, actually, it confirms something I’ve always wondered about modern art. Abstract art.
Cathy: What’s that?
Raymond: That perhaps it’s just picking up where religious art left off, somehow trying to show you divinity. The modern artist just pares it down to the basic elements of shape and color. But when you look at that Miró, you feel it just the same.[/b]
Hmm. Maybe.
[b]Elderly woman: Not to say that I’m against integration, mind you. I do believe it’s the Christian thing to do. But I still say what happened in Little Rock could just as easily have happened here in Hartford.
Pary guest: Nonsense.
Elderly woman: Well, why is that?
Party guest: Well, for one thing, there’s no Governor Faubus in Connecticut. But the main reason, there are no Negroes.
…
Stan: Frank is the luckiest guy in town!
Frank [very drunk]: It’s all smoke and mirrors, fellas. That’s all it is. You should see her without her face on.
Doreen: Frank!
Cathy: No, he’s absolutely right. We ladies are never what we appear, and every girl has her secrets.
…
Frank: Christ, Cathleen, do you even have the slightest idea about what this could mean? Don’t you realize the effect it’s gonna have on me and the reputation I have spent the past eight years trying to build for you and the children and for the company?
Cathy: Yes. I have spoken to Raymond Deagan on occasion. He brought his little girl to Eleanor’s art show. But…But, apparently, even here in Hartford, the idea of a white woman even speaking to a colored man…
Frank: Oh, please! Just save me the Negro rights!
…
Raymond: I won’t put my daughter through that again. Not now. Not with rocks coming through the windows every night.
Cathy: Oh, Raymond, that’s hateful.
Raymond: Oh, it’s not whites throwin’ them. It’s coloreds.
Cathy: No.
Raymond: Yeah. Seems to be the one place where whites and coloreds are in full harmony.
…
Raymond [to Cathy]: I’ve learned my lesson about mixing in other worlds. I’ve seen the sparks fly. All kinds.
…
Cathy: That was the day I stopped believing in the wild ardor of things. Perhaps in love, as well. That kind of love. The love in books and films. The love that tells us to abandon our lives and plans, all for one brief touch of Venus. So often we fail at that kind of love. The world just seems too fragile a place for it. And of every other kind, life remains full. Perhaps it’s just we who are too fragile.[/b]