THE GROUP: Blu-ray (UA/Famartists Productions S.A., 1966) Kino Lorber

Some 50+ years after its publication, Mary McCarthy’s blistering portrait of womanhood burgeoning forth into uncharted territory and a whole new world of scintillating possibilities for sex, success and personal satisfaction (imagine that!), The Group (1963, and her fifth novel) remains a flawed, and slightly filthy, if scathingly on point generational snapshot from another time, cleaved with ample dollops of syrup and sass. As directed by Sidney Lumet a scant 3 years later, the movie version is more froth than fun, existentially depressing and rather desperate to make its points. It needn’t try so hard, as nothing could quite match McCarthy’s description of Dottie Renfrew’s first orgasm, told with pragmatic exactitude. Arguably, her guilelessness would not have ruffled as many feathers if a male writer had put it to paper. Then again, what would any guy – especially in 1963 – know about female orgasm? But the lover boy who deflowers Dot – aptly named ‘Dick’ – hails from a generation where men ‘push’ and ‘stab’, ‘rub’ and ‘stroke’ (McCarthy’s descriptors, not mine!), culminating in the inevitable embarrassment that Dick rather crudely summarizes many years later as “Betty bled like a pig.” What a prince!  

Yet, it is what happened the morning after that shocked McCarthy’s readership even more; Dick, casually escorting his paramour to the door and instructing her to get a pessary (ring, plug, yeah…we know what it is…), McCarthy, spelling it out with a protracted and allegorical chapter on the protocol for attaining this particular contraception. As Sidney Lumet’s The Group (1966) premiered in a decade still gun-shy about such things, though not necessary about what came before it, we are privy to Dot’s deflowering (shot very artistically, with half shadows in all the right places); Dick’s post-coital counsel, reworded as “The right lady doctor could make us a lot happier.” Hint, hint. From here, McCarthy’s explorative prose proceeded to venture into lesbianism, mental illness, abortion and, of course, free love – and all this, nearly 3-years before Jacqueline Suzann’s smut-soaked, Valley of the Dolls, hit stands. McCarthy had, in fact, taken Vassar’s reputation to task, the college rechristened as a bastion for everything “wrong with the modern female: humanism, atheism, Communism, short skirts, cigarettes, psychiatry, votes for women, free love, intellectualism” and turned everything on its head.  

On paper, at least, The Group made its own valiant ‘stab’ to be the sort of progressive, proto-feminist page-turner that would fast become all the rage in the sixties; a tale of eight Vassar graduates, optimistically venturing forth into ‘man country.’ The book, in fact, did transform McCarthy’s own repute as a literary critic of dreaded esteem into one of the flushest female novelists of her generation.  Alas, the criticism McCarthy endured for her frankness was hostile – an understatement – particularly, the steely-eyed venom exerted by her Vassar classmates, who obviously perceived more than a glint of truth in her tell-all, and perhaps even saw themselves as betrayed for the author’s inspiration. Arguably, McCarthy was deserving of what she reaped, her decades’ long disemboweling of male ‘greats’ from her generation, as one of the mid-century’s most unapologetic, tetchy and tenacious literary/theater critics had cut many a giant to more diminutive size.  And The Group was unlike anything even McCarthy had written before – a startling departure from all those moral tiddlywinks, it spared not a single character from the pall and shame of un-ladylike behavior; McCarthy herself, quite capable of instilling fear and loathing in her male colleagues, many of whom she had taken to task and to bed with nary an afterthought for the repercussions – mostly, on the other side.  

That The Group became a movie under Sidney Lumet’s direction was practically a forgone conclusion. The book was a monster hit, even if it failed to impress McCarthy’s peers, and, in some countries, was banned altogether as synonymous with pornography. Even so, the movie rights were sold to producer/agent, Charles K. Feldman for a cool $162,500. So, even if McCarthy’s reputation among her own highbrow sect suffered, dis-invited to social gatherings and grey-listed as the purveyor of scandalous pseudo-erotica, she could decidedly afford – with relish and pearls – to endure the smirks. Serious writers were poor, don’t you know, and after The Group’s first printing, Mary McCarthy was anything but! That Lumet’s souffle would ultimately fail to catch even the tail fires of McCarthy’s incendiary authorship was perhaps even more predictable. In the pseudo-progressive sixties disconnect between the ole-time glam bam of the Hollywood proper and its bleary-eyed/neon-lit Babylon, not yet fully-established or ready to take the plunge into the deep end of iniquity, The Group on film promised the sort of all-star sizzler that, quite simply, had to be brought back down to a simmer. The picture stars Candice Bergen, Joan Hackett, Elizabeth Hartman, Shirley Knight, Joanna Pettet, Mary-Robin Redd, Jessica Walters and Kathleen Widdoes as the Vassar vixens, with James Broderick, James Congdon, Larry Hagman, Hal Holbrook, Richard Mulligan, and Robert Emhardt bringing up the rear (pun intended). Virtually all of the aforementioned were then considered ‘rising’ stars – although only some went on to establish lasting careers. 

The Group – the movie – is an interesting mishmash. Indeed, the novel too has no real trajectory. It simply followed the misadventures of ‘these girls’ (and one outsider, played by Carrie Nye) from class to culture. Sidney Buchman’s screenplay had grave difficulty distilling McCarthy’s prose into something better than ‘serious melodrama’. Part of the novel’s ‘charm’ is that McCarthy wrote with such wild abandonment it is easy to consider the book in totem as a satire. It’s not.  So, the lives of these eight graduates increasingly unraveled into a silly snapshot taken out of context – a peep show into the sexual mores of women who really ought to know better, but wind up getting the proverbial short end of the stick.  Dot (Joan Hackett) wants to be loved; Priss (Elizabeth Hartman), hopes to become a wife and mother, Libby (Jessica Walters) desires a career, and damn well sleeps her way to the top to get it, Polly (Shirley Knight) romps from man to man, and Kay (Joanna Petit), thirsts for deeper meaning in an as unsatisfying sexual relationship. For her intellectualism, Kay is brutally mocked by her philandering man, Harald Petersen (Larry Hagman, giving shades to his later success as TV’s J.R. Ewing, already coming to the surface herein). Aside: Harald was actually based on McCarthy’s first hubby. Genderless Helena (Kathleen Widdoes) buries her head in her books, while hefty heiress, Pokey (Mary Robbin-Redd) is mostly represented by her man servant, Hatton. The queen of this cloistered society is Elinor ‘Lakey’ (Candice Bergan) – an ambiguous connoisseur, studying art abroad. As noted, film critic, Pauline Kael wrote in her review for The Group, “Waiting for Lakey to reappear is like waiting for Godot” but when she does resurface, we realize her exalted conceit has been an elegant mask to conceal a genuine shocker: she is a lesbian! Whoops, and where did that come from?!?

At its core, The Group is a tale about looking back, presumably, on a simpler time – at least where thoughtful women are concerned, when all that was expected, was that women should fall into line, politely - please, or face becoming ensnared in a pleasant relationship that belied her general intelligence and education. It is this sexist past, with this particular vanishing breed of socially affluent/well-versed bluestocking, that mostly appealed to McCarthy and found its way to paper, and, even more ironically, caught the popular zeitgeist of a readership steeped in sixties feminism: McCarthy’s gals, emblematic caricatures of ‘the sisterhood.’  Although McCarthy’s novel is female-centric, it is far more disturbing, and, ever-so-slightly dishonest about probing male desire. McCarthy’s inference is that the nicer a fellow – on the surface - the worse the cad, behind closed doors. Virtually, all of the male counterparts in The Group are Neanderthals and narcissists. Men behaving badly doesn’t even begin to describe their crudeness. Whether out of closeted psychological frigidity or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, driven by ball-clanging testosterone to use and abuse their significant others, McCarthy’s view of men in general is that they are dumb, oversexed, domineering and generally unnecessary. In Norine’s (Carrie Nye) case, she is instructed by a doctor no less, to buy some kinky underwear and cheap perfume so her frigid hubby will think of her more as a sex object. Even the extravert of this troop, Libby MacAusland (Jessica Walters) gets smacked around by her supposedly charming Norwegian suitor, Nils (Bruno DiCosmi) who, upon discovering Libby is a virgin, rather perversely admonishes her by saying, “It would not even be amusing to rape you.”  Rape – amusing?!?! Meanwhile, Libby’s publisher, Gus LeRoy (Hal Holbrook) decides to let the air out of Libby’s exaggerated dreams to work in publishing. “It’s a man’s business – publishing,” he explains, “Marry a publisher… and be his hostess.”  While McCarthy’s frankness – however colored by her own experiences with men – marked the novel as ‘controversial’, Lumet’s inability to probe as deeply on celluloid, brands The Group – the movie – as something of a quaint and familiar throwback to the woman’s weepy/melodrama of the 1930’s; albeit, with far more psycho-suffering, less emotional satisfaction, a lot more sexism, blunted, mostly – and all of its daring, diffused – or worse, made trivial.  

The picture is set during the height of the Great Depression, all evidence of those mean times and their sallow-faced scarecrows, forgotten men, and evaporating hope set aside, as we focus on the privileged lives of these eight young women, newly graduated and confidently stepping forth into their own uncertain futures. Curiously, Lakey (Candice Bergan), the acknowledged front runner of ‘the group’ has elected to depart immediately to study art in Europe. Her absence barely registers as Sidney Buchman’s screenplay quickly shifts to Kay Strong’s (Joanna Pettet) marriage to Harald Peterson (Larry Hagman), a guy who unfortunately cannot keep it in his pants and has absolutely zero interest in Kay’s fanciful daydreams to live affluently. Kay thought she had things all wrapped up, marriage to a handsome wannabe playwright, the perfect partner for her dreams of becoming the toast of Broadway. However, before long Kay realizes she has made a mistake, giving up her dreams to get a sales job at Macy’s, just to keep food on the table after Harold gets fired from his stage-managing position. All this takes time to unfold. But immediately after their wedding, we turn to Dottie, the forthright Boston Brahmin, eager to break out of her well-ordered life. She finds exactly what she is after in Harald’s friend, Dick Brown (Richard Mulligan) an artist…well, sort of…indulging in Greenwich Village’s bohemian lifestyle. Laying her cards on the table, Dottie and Dick spend the night together in his seedy apartment.

The next morning, Dick instructs Dot to seek out a ‘lady doctor’ – to tighten things up between them…literally - and she, willingly – blindly/stupidly – confides her one-night stand to Kay, who tags along to fetch the pessary. Alas, Dottie has deceived herself. Despite suggesting to Kay, she has used Dick instead of the other way around, Dottie quickly realizes Dick could not care less if she went to see the doctor or rode a pogo stick through Central Park naked. More embarrassed than bitter, Dottie skulks off to New England, pursuing a ‘proper’ suitor and a loveless marriage. Meanwhile, Priss Hartshorn (Elizabeth Hartman), the introspective political activist, is forced to surrender her passion for FDR’s poverty program when Congress declares it illegal. Much to her family’s relief, Priss weds Sloan Crockett (James Congdon), an enterprising pediatrician. It is the couples’ ‘great shame’ that the good doctor cannot make a baby on his own wife; Priss, unable to carry two early pregnancies to term. Eventually, Priss does provide Sloan with a son.

At this juncture, Lumet brings us back to Kay and Harald – the marriage turned rancid after Kay insists, they move from their affordable ‘slum’ digs to a posh deco pad near the theater district. It’s a mistake, culminating in a pseudo-swank gathering of the clan. Harald gets sauced and makes an arrogant ass of himself, threatening to burn the only copy of the manuscript he has supposedly been working on for months, though probably – secretly – already realizing it isn’t very good. Polly Andrews (Shirley Knight), whose narrative trajectory has yet to be explored by Lumet, gains traction, and a bit of personal satisfaction by taking a job at the local hospital. This leads to a transient and wholly unsatisfying love affair; but then, even more miraculously, a new and burgeoning romance with Dr. James Ridgeley (James Broderick). Meanwhile, Helena Davidson (Kathleen Widdoes) becomes the unwitting pawn of her strict parents. Despite her smarts, pedigree and distinction as the class valedictorian, Helena will be forced to surrender her rewarding job as an educator (presumably, because a vocation has no place in any well-brought-up young lady’s life plan), to indulge in one ongoing and aimless vacation, traveling, collecting art and giving tea parties. The outbreak of war in Europe in 1939 forces Lakey to return home with a rather mannish companion – Lumet, inferring a lesbian relationship with thinly veiled double entendre.

Lakey’s friends are modestly startled by this discovery, having considered her something of their mentor and muse from the ole college days. Meanwhile, Kay has suffered a nervous breakdown and has become a neurotic mess. As the group prepares to celebrate Polly’s engagement to Dr. Ridgeley, news of Hitler’s declaration of war is heard on the radio. Having erroneously deduced that a plane flying overhead is, in fact, one of Hitler’s bombers, Kay opens the window to her apartment to look out with a pair of binoculars, loses her balance and plummets to her death. Lumet spares us the thought-numbing and tearful goodbyes at the grave site, his camera following a processional of black sedans, one of them driven by Lakey, with Harald as the only passenger. He crudely admonishes Lakey for being a lesbian and she, rather stealthily, with far more affecting candor, cuts him off at the knees as the arrogant, heartless and destructive bastard, responsible for Kay’s untimely unraveling.  

Incisively illuminating the desolation derived from refusing to accept any personal responsibility for their actions, the ladies who populate Lumet’s The Group suffer loss caused by their own self-delusion. Kay’s entire identity, as example, is wrapped up in Harald’s success. As such, it too is doomed when he falters, then utterly fails to live up to her idyllic expectations. Kay’s psyche is so fragile it disintegrates into abject humiliation and disgust, internalized as ever-advancing paranoia and sexual frustration. Dottie’s descend, from forthright Junior Miss, haplessly to be sexually liberated by a man unworthy of her virginity, forces this once-vibrant girl to become an alcoholic frump before her time; her error in judgment compounded by, yet again, and willfully, entering into another dissatisfying relationship, this time hermetically sealed via the bond of marriage to a much older man: ‘older’ – code for ‘passionless’.  The irony is, of course, that the least contented members of ‘this group’ fall prey to their own set of inculcated, and thoroughly misguided values, settling for financially secure and socially ‘acceptable’ relationships, void of any emotional authenticity, instead of waiting for the right – or even ‘better – opportunities to come along.  

McCarthy’s novel would enjoy a mixed bag of praise and disdain. McCarthy, who could – and had – eviscerated many an author in her time, was decidedly not pleased her own work received such caustic dismissals.  Nevertheless, the negative backlash was very good for business. The book was a runaway smash that made McCarthy a very wealthy woman. As Sidney Lumet’s movie adaptation warranted neither as much high praise nor such clear-sighted vitriol at the time of its release, it remains, as it was in 1966, a passably pleasing soap opera – only occasionally grand and/or thoroughly amusing. Lumet interpolates the action with a rather tedious reiteration of the somewhat ‘blue’ – and on occasion, thoroughly creepy, English traditional song, ‘Landlord, Fill The Flowing Bowl’ and other choral chants, arranged by composers, Laurence Rosenthal, and Charles Gross (the latter uncredited), to punctuate the chasm between academia and real life. Boris Kaufman’s cinematography is not very compelling. The Group’s visuals, while colorful, are flatly photographed without any ambition to create genuine atmosphere. While The Group’s $2.4 million budget was outclassed by its $6 million take at the box office, its reputation, as the ‘must see’ movie of the year quickly cooled; the general consensus: Lumet had captured something of the essence, though hardly the prickly trauma that had made the novel such an incendiary page-turner.

In whatever way the audience attending Lumet’s soapy drama chose to view it, as far as Vassar’s class of ’33 were concerned, McCarthy’s novel had directly betrayed them, stripping off the veil of faux respectability to reveal a very untidy mess of mores lurking behind those ivy-covered walls. While there was no shortage of real-life women, having gone to school with McCarthy, who recognized themselves reconstituted by the authoress as venomous vamps, vixens, vipers and neurotic teases and tarts, McCarthy always insisted none of the characters in her book were actually based on ‘one’ particular classmate. As there is no earthly way, even at 150 min. that Lumet’s movie can offer up as much depth in characterization, even with as fine a roster at his disposal, the characters who populate ‘his’ Group, remain archetypes at best, virtually unrecognizable counterpoints to McCarthy’s derivations in the novel, except to say, they bear the same monikers and behave similarly without actually revealing too much of what is going on inside their heads – either collectively, or as individuals.  

As a fascinating epitaph, Mary McCarthy would come to intensely dislike the double-edged sword of popularity that dogged The Group. Indeed, by 1979, the year she appeared on The Dick Cavett Show, McCarthy was officially ‘done’ with the book and its critical backlash. So, when Cavett shifted his focus to inquire which authors McCarthy thought were as overrated, it seemed an innocuous enough question to move the conversation along. McCarthy’s answer, “Lillian Hellman”, accusing the writer, by adding “Every word she writes is a lie, including ‘and’ and ‘the,’” brought down the house; also, Hellman’s wrath. A lawsuit for $2.5 million followed. In 1984, the courts found in Hellman’s favor. But by then Hellman had barely a month to live, putting a period to any payout that might have followed. Barely 5-years later, McCarthy would succumb to lung cancer. Although she had written two more novels after The Group and would continue to contribute to her body of non-fictional criticism, McCarthy would never again enjoy the notoriety – good, bad or indifferent – that had accompanied this watershed publication. Since 1966, time and advancing tastes have managed to blunt much of the impact and diffuse the fuss that surrounded the novel, as well as the flurry of interest generated by Lumet’s movie version. Viewed today, The Group – the movie, is quaintly genteel in a way never intended.  Lumet’s approach, then deemed as ‘respectful’, today, gives more the impression of ‘playing it safe.’  Is it a good picture? I suppose, the answer is ‘yes’, as there are good things in it that even time itself has been powerless to erode. Is it a memorable one? Arguably, the answer here is ‘no’ – The Group fading into obscurity even before the houselights come up. In the end, the movie version is its own animal – contained and cordial, occasionally unsettling, but never anywhere near as daring as McCarthy’s book.  

The Group arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s association with MGM/Fox. This is a fairly unprepossessing 1080p transfer, with wan colors, minor age-related artifacts, tepid contrast and slight fading. While select titles from MGM’s back catalog have enjoyed something of a minor renaissance in remastering, via Shout! Factory’s ‘select series’, the vast majority of their holdings have fallen victim to a sort of cash-strapped purgatory. Intermittently find great movies, given short shrift from MGM in hi-def, due to this miserly approach to film preservation…if, in fact, the studio is even actively pursuing such a policy these days. The Group is among its casualties. Flesh tones herein are pretty peaked, either pasty pink or slightly jaundice. Film grain has been inconsistently rendered; spiking during opticals, while otherwise looking mostly indigenous to its source. Given that the only source material on home video prior to this Blu was MGM’s now defunct MOD DVD program, I have the sneaking suspicion The Group has not exactly been paid due diligence to get it ready for hi-def.  The 2.0 DTS mono audio is adequate, but only just. There are no extras, save a theatrical trailer. Bottom line: as a ‘time capsule’ The Group is moderately enjoyable. It has neither the scope nor the intensity of McCarthy’s prose to recommend it. Lumet’s direction is solid, but not altogether successful at maintaining narrative continuity beyond the sparsest of connective threads to move the plot along to its inevitable conclusion. This Blu-ray won’t win any awards for ‘best in show’ either. So, judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

0