A PATCH OF BLUE: Blu-ray (MGM, 1965) Warner Archive
It has oft been
said ‘kindness’ is the only language the deaf can hear and the
blind can see; pearls of wisdom exercised in director, Guy Green’s
extraordinarily tender and poignant, A Patch of Blue (1965), costarring
the superb Sidney Poitier, in his most successful role to date, and the
exquisite Elizabeth Hartman in her screen debut. Precisely how Hartman, with
nearly no tenure in acting – save a little summer stock theater work in her
hometown of Youngstown, Ohio, and virtually zero film experience, came to be
cast in Green’s minor masterpiece is the stuff of Cinderella stories. And indeed,
after winning the coveted role, MGM wasted no time making a short to promote
Hartman as that Perrault-ian fabled princess. Alas, not all Cinderellas come to
their happy ending. As in art, in life, the 22-year-old Hartman, who illustrates
an almost waif-like innocence as the seeing-impaired star of our show, separated from the only person ever to show her compassion, would
never find her own illusive patch of blue. Incidentally, the title A Patch
of Blue references teenager, Selina D’Arcey’s (Hartman) remembrance of the
color of the sky before losing her sight as a child. In life, Hartman’s early
promise as a movie star seemed to herald a great new find on the cusp of super-stardom.
A Patch of Blue justly garnered Hartman rave reviews, as well as a Best
Actress Oscar nod – then, the youngest recipient of that honor. She also won
the National Association of Theater Owners’ Achievement Award and a Golden
Globe; the pinnacle of this early flourish of success dampened by the unexpected death of
her father that same year.
We pause a
moment herein to remember Elizabeth Hartman – whose life and contributions to
the world of entertainment are an epitaph worthy of rediscovery and
appreciation. Proving no slouch after this heady premiere, Hartman immediately followed up A Patch of Blue with a stellar turn as Amanda in
1966’s stagecraft, The Glass Menagerie, appearing in such coveted A-list
Hollywood projects thereafter as the ensemble drama, The Group (1966), You're
a Big Boy Now (1966), The Beguiled (1971), and, Walking Tall
(1973). From this rather exhilarating slate of movie projects, Hartman returned
to the stage in Balaam (1975), and later, Morning’s at Seven
(1981), even finding the time to voice a central character in Don Bluth’s
animated classic, The Secret of NIMH (1982). Rather insidiously, Hartman’s
life-long struggle with depression began to erode her passion for the work. A
divorce in 1984 compounded the strain on her fragile psyche. Despite the doting
care of her sister, Janet, Hartman was to take her own life in 1987, leaping
from a fifth-story apartment balcony. Her distraught mother, who outlived
Hartman by ten years, would later be interned in the plot next to her at Forest
Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery.
Hartman’s Selina
D’Arcey is a splendidly on-point portrait of that special ‘dark’ world occupied
by the seeing impaired. Apart from her uncanny interpretation of the affliction
itself (one could easily believe Hartman was actually blind), in
layman’s terms, she manages to tear the heart to pieces with her frank, though
never self-pitying performance of this unloved teenager. Selina’s acceptance –
dare we say, with ‘blind’ optimism – of her own small world, even as it is chronically
under siege from her horrific gargoyle of a mother, played with unflinching
rage and saucy contempt by Shelley Winters, and, a slovenly/emasculated
grandfather (the impeccable, Wallace Ford) is both awe-inspiring and tragic. A Patch of Blue’s success rests squarely on Hartman’s ability to
make us care about what happens to Selina D’Arcey. The movie was, and remains a
lightning rod, examining the social stigma associated with blindness, and
bringing it to the forefront of the public consciousness; even more incredibly,
at a time when disabilities in general were rarely - if ever - discussed, and
certainly, never to be interpreted as bankable box office. That MGM, already in
the throes of its own financial implosion, had enough faith to green-light this
movie says something about the studio’s invested approach to ‘gamble’ on a good
story, in spite of the number-crunchers in the picture biz. To prepare for the
role, Hartman attended classes at the Braille Institute of America where she
observed real seeing-impaired people being trained to do handwork, similar to
the 'beadwork' Selina performs in A Patch of Blue.
If Hartman is
the picture’s sustaining axis on whom all points of Green’s screenplay (based
on Elizabeth Kata’s 1961 novel, ‘Be Ready with Bells and Drums’) revolve
like a planetary mobile, then Sidney Poitier’s Gordon Ralfe is unequivocally
the most immediate and important satellite in Selina’s constellation. There has never been, nor is there ever likely
to be, another Sidney Poitier. His innate intelligence, laid-back charm
and ferocity, brought to rail against social intolerance, made Poitier the
ideal choice to costar in A Patch of Blue. And Green, who has placed the
obvious focus squarely on Hartman’s slender shoulders, nevertheless affords
Poitier a hallowed spot in all of the picture’s most crucial scenes. Here is a real/reel man we can root for: Gordon Ralfe, gracefully resisting Selina’s awkward
romantic overtures with sincerity and compassion, yet drawing his proverbial
line in the sand against prejudices exhibited by both Selina’s barbaric
race-baiting mother, Rose-Ann, and, his own brother, Mark (Ivan Dixon), who
believes Gordon has no cause or obligation to be kind to a ‘white girl’. It is
one of those Hollywood ironies that Shelley Winters – a staunch supporter of
the Civil Rights Movement – was cast as Selina’s mother. For here is Winters
unbound as the repugnant prostitute; the only cast member to spew with venom the loaded ‘N’
word as Rose-Ann violently belts Selina across the cheek to teach her a lesson.
Winters, who accepted the role with some
trepidation, but came to despise it almost immediately, was as startled when it won her a
second, Best Supporting Actress Academy Award (her first, playing the infinitely
more compassionate Mrs. Petronella Van Daan in 1959’s The Diary of Anne
Frank). Quite simply, the honor left Winters shaken, tearful and imbued
with great humility on Oscar night.
A Patch of Blue is an astonishingly
candid movie that continues to pack a wallop for its head-on address of
societal indifference to those with disabilities, and its subtler nod in
support of the growing Civil Rights Movement as its backdrop, though never as
an afterthought. The picture’s marketing tag-line, ‘love is blind’ plays
down the racial aspects of the story. However, as Green feared, the scene where
Selina gingerly traces the contours of Gordon’s face with her hands, offering
herself completely to him with an impromptu kiss on the lips, had to be excised
when the
picture was shown in Southern states. Nevertheless, A Patch of Blue is
refreshingly guileless. Green’s lithe direction insures that ‘the messages’
never overtake the central focus of the narrative; namely, to tell a good story
about two people who meet, quite by accident, and discover an uncanny ‘common ground’
built on mutual respect, a growing admiration and burgeoning self-awareness. The
arc of Selina’s character is more fully realized here, as she learns that she
does not have to settle in life or remain as a mere appendage, to be brutalized
and repeatedly made the victim of her mother’s folly. As for Gordon – for
better or worse – he realizes he must set aside his feelings – the complications
of an unlikely and still highly taboo love affair cast aside, in favor of some
greater altruism, surely to benefit Selina D’Arcey in the long run rather than
his transparent affections for her right now.
A Patch of Blue is, at once, an
extraordinarily sad, yet exceedingly hopeful picture. Although Guy Green was offered Eastman color,
he elected instead to shoot his movie in B&W Panavision – subtly amplifying
the racial divide. The monochromatic palette also augments the relative squalor
of Selina’s increasingly claustrophobic world. At a relatively trivial cost of $800,000,
A Patch of Blue went on to earn nearly $7 million in domestic rentals.
To keep the budget in check, most of the picture was shot on the old MGM back lot
in Culver City; the studio’s New York Street re-dressed to evoke a downtown Los
Angeles, with interiors designed by production designers, George W. Davis and Urie
McCleary to evoke a deplorable tenement, cramped and dirty, with the only view
from the window overlooking other buildings across the street. For authenticity,
certain portions were also shot at MacArthur Park and West 6th and 7th
streets in L.A. Our story begins in the tiny four corners that Selina D’Arcey
calls home – or rather, an unreasonable facsimile of one. We witness Selina,
treated despicably by her abusive prostitute/mother, Rose-Ann as a common
servant girl, denied even the basic right to blossom in her own particular
soil. Indeed, Selina is responsible for housekeeping and meals while her mother
wenches for cash, and, her grandfather, Ole Pa, daily retreats to a meager job
that, among his many other bitter life’s grievances, drives him to drink.
Selina’s one saving grace is the kindly Mr. Faber (John Qualen) who employs
Selina to string necklace beads and is, in fact, the only man at the outset to
show Selina even a modicum of kindness. He takes her to the park.
On one of these
outings, Selina inadvertently meets Gordon Ralfe. As Selina has no friends,
rarely leaves her apartment, and, has never received a formal education, she is
immediately attracted to Gordon, a soft-spoken and educated black man who works
night shifts at a nearby office. Drawn to her unspoiled, but direct vivacity,
Gordon takes it upon himself to liberate Selina from Rose-Ann’s tyrannical
mothering. Through his eyes, and in flashback, we learn how Selina came to lose
her sight; a hellish confrontation between Rose-Ann and her estranged/abusive
father, causing Rose-Ann to hurl an acidic chemical at him that missed its mark
and forever stole from Selina – then, only five – her sight. We also discover
Selina was raped at a very young age by one of her mother’s many ‘boyfriends’;
a pivotal moment that, again, Selina has since taken in stride and addresses
with dispassionate acceptance for things just being the way they are. These heart-breaking
moments are played with deftly restrained emotions by Poitier and Hartman; her
complacent sorrow beautifully contrasted against his refined, if mounting
disgust for Rose-Ann. After their visits in the park, Selina patiently waits
under a tree until well after dark for Ole Pa, usually in a drunken malaise, come
to claim her from her.
Jealously
observing a distinct change in Selina’s demeanor – the girl, is strangely happy
for a change – Rose-Ann questions what she has been doing with herself in the
park all day, before ruthlessly humiliating Selina with a swift wallop across
the cheek, leaving her stunned, but otherwise apologizing, merely for having spent
a pleasant afternoon. Although Rose-Ann is suspicious she is not terribly
invested in unearthing the truth. And so, Selina continues to attend Gordon in
the park. He takes her on outings throughout the city, teaching her ways of
becoming more self-sufficient, to shop for groceries, cross the street on her
own. Eventually, Gordon takes Selina back to the apartment he shares with his
brother, Mark. At first, Mark – an affluent doctor, is not at all pleased to
find ‘a white girl’ in their apartment. Indeed, this can only lead to
complications, as Mark has his own hang-ups about ‘whites’, though perhaps not
as much as Rose-Ann despises blacks. Unknowing of Gordon’s race, Selina
confides that, as a little girl, she once had a good friend named Pearl, whom
Rose-Ann effectively banished from playing with her because she was black. Discovering
a music box on the credenza in Gordon’s living room, Selina gets him to divulge
its history; long ago, the ornate box was a gift to Gordon’s grandmother,
described as a beautiful woman, by her lover. Seeing the music box’s effect on
Selina, Gordon makes a present of it. Unable to bring it home without incurring
Rose-Ann’s wrath, Selina instead elects to bury it in the ground near the tree
where she and Gordon first met.
Rose-Ann’s best
friend, Sadie (Elisabeth Fraser) is also a hooker and now suggests Rose-Ann
and she might make even more money turning tricks if they moved uptown to a
more refined hotel as ‘roommates.’ Rose-Ann also plans to relocate Selina, much
to her dismay, since the venue is far removed from the park, therefore making
her daily rendezvous with Gordon virtually impossible. Worse, Rose-Ann has a
mind to put Selina ‘to work’ as a blind call girl. After all, Selina’s ‘bloom’
was stolen a long time ago by one of Rose-Ann’s drunken revelers. And a blind
prostitute might be a novelty – easy to exploit. Touched by Selina’s circumstances,
Gordon contacts a school for the blind, willing to take in Selina. Alas, Selina
may not want to go as the school too is far removed from the park, and therefore
Gordon. Rose-Ann and Sadie witness Gordon escorting Selina home. Rose-Ann
becomes enraged, accusing Selina of sleeping with her ‘black buck.’ Although Selina had previously attempted to
make love to Gordon, he resisted her advances. And despite learning from
Rose-Ann that the man of her dreams is not of her race, Selina refuses to give
Gordon up. This leads to the most disturbing showdown. Rose-Ann tries to beat
Selina into submission and is refreshingly alarmed when Selina gives as good as
she gets. For one brief and shining moment, Ole Pa intervenes, hurling dishes
and other household items at his daughter, defending Selina’s honor and
ordering Rose-Ann to back away from her assault. The neighbors in the tenement poke
their noses into this ruckus and are given the old heave-ho by Rose-Ann after
she accuses one of the neighbor women of also being a prostitute while her
husband is away at work.
Afterward,
Rose-Ann goads Ole Pa into refusing to take Selina back to the park. After a
brief tantrum, Selina elects to venture out on her own, applying the skills Gordon
has taught her. Alas, her first venture beyond these walls proves a disaster.
Selina is nearly trampled by the crowds and left disoriented and alone, to
scramble her way back to the apartment after one-man steps forward to offer her
his aid. Meanwhile, at the park, Gordon patiently waits for a meeting that will
never happen. That evening, Mr. Faber’s son, Yanek (Kelly Flynn) arrives with
news. His father would be happy to escort Selina to the park the next
afternoon. And so, Selina and Gordon are reunited. After some consternation and
tears, Selina informs Gordon of Rose-Ann’s plan to move her away. Meanwhile, arriving
home to find Selina gone, Rose-Ann guesses where she has gone to meet Gordon.
Dragging a drunken Ole Pa, Rose-Ann hurries to the park and confronts Gordon
and Selina. Rose-Ann’s hatred draws a crowd as she fumes and spews sordid rumors
to garner their favor. Mercifully, Rose-Ann’s racist tirade fall on deaf ears.
Angrier than
ever, Rose-Ann makes several failed attempts to part Gordon and Selina. In the
end, however, the couple retreat to Gordon’s apartment leaving Rose-Ann and Ole
Pa to grapple with the situation. At Gordon’s apartment, Selina is told about
the arrangements to attend a school for the blind. And although she resists at
first, even Selina can recognize that Gordon’s plan for her future welfare
makes perfect sense. As the bus arrives to collect her, Selina makes Gordon
promise to contemplate marriage. He reluctantly agrees, barring a one-year
separation to see if their love will endure. Selina departs with the bus driver.
Only after she has gone does Gordon notice she left his grandmother’s music box
behind. Racing downstairs, Gordon arrives at sidewalk level too late. The bus
has already departed from the curb and is half way down the street. Gordon
reasons this if for the best. The movie hints that the couple have
already said their goodbyes – never to meet again.
A Patch of Blue is a
monumentally satisfying motion picture; difficult to watch in spots because it
is so incredibly and hauntingly true to life. The picture’s startlingly direct
address of the daily challenges the blind must face, not to mention the
heinousness of child abuse and racist attitudes in that rapidly-changing
sixties culture remains as unvarnished, raw, and genuinely heart wrenching as
ever. Sidney Poitier’s Gordon Ralfe is a thoroughly fascinating character
study, largely due to Poitier’s ability to allow the audience into the inner
workings of his character’s mind. Without voice-over tricks, Poitier allows the
pain of love to bubble over, complimented by the inner torment of Gordon’s
altruism, and his veritable contempt for bigotry – both Rose-Ann and Mark’s - writ
large with a series of penetrating stares and wounded glances. These speak
volumes without a single line of dialogue uttered, even as an aside, providing the
necessary dramatic bridge from the ‘self’ Gordon only allows Selina to hear –
kind, and with the outstretched hand of tolerance – with the deeper, more honorably
disputed, and yet, as determined moralist that only the audience, in perfect
possession of all their faculties, witnesses. Hartman’s exquisitely naïve junior
Miss is so subtly nuanced, with an all-pervading politesse - impossible to fake
– she instantly garners our sympathy without a modicum of pity attached. And here
are two people, parted by circumstance, sex, race, age, and, even more summarily
in their basic physical faculties – and yet, so completely right for one
another, that to have them segregated in the end remains, not only bittersweet,
but tragic on an epic scale, akin to all those great thwarted romances cleaved
from fine literature. Given its social significance, A Patch of Blue has
not received nearly enough play time in the intervening decades since its
theatrical release.
Warner Archive’s
(WAC) new Blu-ray release extols the many virtues in Robert Burk’s gorgeous B&W
cinematography. The image, while suffering from contrast levels that appear
ever-so-slightly boosted, yields some wonderful textures and film grain looking
indigenous to its source. Age-related artifacts have been eradicated. The image
is smooth and satisfying, albeit, appearing just a tad too brightly lit, with a
few inserts presumably sourced from less than original elements. That said,
there is really nothing to complain about here. The DTS mono is adequate,
showing off Jerry Goldsmith’s melancholy central theme. WAC has included an
audio commentary from director, Guy Green, recorded in 2001 for the DVD
release. We also get the aforementioned ‘featurette’ touting Elizabeth Hartman’s
Cinderella-esque ascendance to stardom, plus a badly worn theatrical trailer.
Bottom line: A Patch of Blue is a superb drama with so much to contribute.
The picture’s powerful message is as relevant today as ever. Buy today. Treasure
forever. A winner, through and through.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
5
VIDEO/AUDIO
4
EXTRAS
3
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