MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL: Blu-ray (Warner Bros., 1997) Warner Archive
If, as they used to say, “Truth…like art…is in the
eye of the beholder” then, I am not entirely certain how Clint
Eastwood's Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1997) works, except
to say, that it does – and, rather spectacularly. It's not exactly a ‘whodunit’
since there is little doubt the film's protagonist, wealthy and flamboyant
philanthropist/antique art dealer, Jim Williams (Kevin Spacey) murdered his gay
hustler/boy-toy, Billy Hanson (Jude Law) in cold blood. It’s not a
suspense-laden thriller either, even though - as in the celebrated tradition of
the novel by Syracuse-native and magazine writer, John Berendt (based on actual
events) – there remains plenty of moodily genteel southern American Gothic
allure to recommend it, the lush and steamy Savannah locales malingering with a
palpable disquiet and, at times, like a powder keg about to explode, perversely
laid-back tautness never quite to veer into ennui. The story too has no climax
to speak of - the machinations in Jim Williams’ subsequent trial and
exoneration (even though we already know he is guilty as sin) an unsettling, yet
foregone conclusion about midway through. Kudos here are decidedly owed in the
writing, the screenplay, superbly consolidated by John Lee Hancock, revealing
just enough before the penultimate, if moot verdict is announced near the end
of this film's 155-minutes.
The other half of the picture’s charm is decidedly
owed its cast. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil is an ensemble
piece very much cut from the same artistic cloth as a Robert Altman flick. So,
its plot becomes secondary, and arguably, even inconsequential as we get to
know more about these fascinatingly flawed, yet vibrant characters who skulk
about the moonlight and magnolia with their genteel drawl and aged bourbon or
julip firmly in hand. Action occurs almost incidentally, with a sort of languid
cadence, and, only when absolutely necessary to move the audiences from one
lurid vignette into the next – indeed, a very ‘southern’ approach to the
material. And yet, from beginning to end, Midnight in the Garden of Good and
Evil is never anything less than absolutely riveting. In retrospect, what
it has in spades is uncanny verisimilitude, thanks to Clint Eastwood's
foresight in casting the real people written about in the novel as their own
cameos in his film. Except for stars, John Cusack, Kevin Spacey, Jude Law and a
few supporting players, to include a bit of family nepotism along the way
(Eastwood cast his sexy-as-hell daughter, Alison as the magnetic and lovely
Mandy Nichols), Eastwood has invited virtually all of the Southern gentry
actually a part of this real-life mystery, to partake of its reenactment, the
one forgivable omission, beloved British bulldog/mascot, Uga IV who, by the
time Eastwood and his entourage came to town, was long since deceased, replaced
by his successor, Uga V. Such cameos do more than merely augment the picture’s
charm, humor and sublime layering of rich and enveloping figures. They lend ‘truth’
to art in a way uncannily to haunt the rest of the story and make one trip to ‘this
garden’ never enough.
Berendt’s novelization of the actual murder which took
place in the 1980s alludes to the time-honored principles of black magic – or
voodoo – ‘midnight’. This is believed to be the ephemeral and bewitching grace
period when forces from the supernatural can be manipulated either for good or
evil. The garden here is South Carolina’s Beaufort cemetery, a decaying oasis
of moss-laden statuary and architecturally spellbinding mausoleums, where
spiritualist, Minerva (Irma P. Hall) practices incantations over the grave of
her late husband, Dr. Buzzard, presumably to ensure a successful resolution to
Jim William’s trial for murder. “I
was seduced by Savanah,” Berendt openly admits, “I didn’t choose it, it
chose me. I was absolutely overcome by its spectacular beauty - eighteenth
century and nineteenth century Victorian mansions. I loved the stories. I loved
the people. But it’s about a very strange circumstance. In the movie, John
Cusack plays me, so it is suggested, come to write a piece for Town and Country
magazine, which I had never written for. But ultimately, I thought Clint
Eastwood did a marvelous job with it, and I must say that many of my friends
have gone there since, to visit the locales as depicted in the film, not one of
them disappointed by what they’ve seen.”
Berendt’s prose – a page-turner, unprecedentedly on
the New York Time’s Best Seller List for 216 weeks (that’s four years!!!),
rearranges certain events in the actual crime of passion, loosely classified as
non-fiction or ‘faction’ – a hybrid originally popularized by Truman
Capote and later, Norman Mailer, while John Lee Hancock’s screenplay is fairly
faithful to both the structure and dialogue of the book. Yet it is Eastwood’s
meticulous craftsmanship, his unfailing persistence and seemingly effortless
ability to meander through these cultured private courtyards and byways, that
allows his audience to discover the mounting tension. Our every man is a Yankee.
It doesn’t take much for freelance writer, John Kelso (John Cusack) to fall
under the hypnotic sway of his surroundings, lending an air of lovely, yet
inescapable entrapment to Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. And while readers of the book outside of the
city made infamous by its publication wholeheartedly embraced its lurid
characterizations, not all of Savannah was on board with its popularity,
certainly not Williams’ sister, Dorothy W. Kingery, who found something
moderately distasteful in Berendt’s decision to periodically interrupt the
severity of her brother’s story with interspersed lighter inserts devoted to
the ‘crazy and colorful’ Southern caricatures, long suspected of
inhabiting this region. Upon publication, shopkeepers stocking Berendt’s novel
discovered to their horror, their front windows and doors pelted and smeared
with rotten eggs, apples and tomatoes. “In the south we’re raised not to
tell family secrets,” gift shop owner, Deborah Sullivan explains, “But
this one tells a lot of family secrets. It’s a true story and a compelling one
– but I received threatening letters when I first decided to open my shop.”
Publishing phenomena, then or now, are extremely rare.
The last one to hit the South was arguably, Margaret Mitchell’s 1936 novel, Gone
with the Wind. But Berendt’s book proves another earth-shattering event
from which, arguably, Savannah has yet to recover. Indeed, regional tourism has
remained high since the novel and movie’s debut, their continued success
gradually gaining begrudging acceptance among the locals. “I had decided to
carry 400 copies of the book when it was first published,” antique book
seller, Ginger Duncan explained, “But by the end of the first year I was
able to buy a brand-new Buick with the proceeds I had made off the book.” “Today
Savannah is more aware of itself,” Berendt later commented, “…and more
aware that the world is watching them which really hasn’t changed much around
here except for the price tag of houses.” “I think most people have come to
realize that the book is a real investment for Savannah,” the real Sonny
Seiler (Jim Williams’ former attorney, who appears in Midnight in the Garden
of Good and Evil as the presiding judge) explained, “There are a few
people who still 'scrumble' about it. I suppose it just depends on whose ox is
in the ditch!” “It’s changed my life tremendously,” the transgender Lady
Chablis Deveau (who plays herself in the movie) added, “I’ve met so many
wonderful people since the book and the movie. You know, even before the book
came out John (Berendt) told me, ‘you’re going to be famous’…and he kept his
word.”
“I came to the novel second best,” Clint Eastwood
would later confide, “Having read John Lee Hancock’s script first, and
liking it very much. I thought - this is different. This is something I would
like to try. Then I read the book and appreciated it even more because John
(Hancock) had taken what was a very quirkily written and sometimes episodic
story and managed to sort through and find a continuation of story; the
characters all interwoven into the plotline, whereas in the novel some of them
merely interweave with Savanah – creating mood and texture.” Eastwood would
spend a great deal of his preproduction on Monterey Square, the historic
eighteenth-century promenade overlooking Mercer/Williams House, aptly named
after its two most renown residents: composer, Johnny Mercer and, of course,
Jim Williams, its most scandalized denizen. Resplendently sheathed in long
billowy curtains of Spanish moss, Mercer/Williams House would prove equally a
character as any of flesh and blood. Even so, Eastwood knew the success of his
movie lay in discovering an actor who shared not only something of the physical
stature of the real Jim Williams, but moreover, was able to convey a more
intangible zest for inhabiting the part - body, mind and spirit. “Kevin had
a certain resemblance to the real Jim Williams,” Eastwood admitted, “…and,
of course, did his own intense research into the character. It was a tough role
to play, because Williams was both very flamboyant, charismatic, and yet, with
an air of mystery about him. And Kevin gave us all that and more.”
Indeed, Spacey’s central performance is the glue
holding the picture together with a disconcerting significance. His reincarnation
is part smooth operator/part charlatan, with a devilish twinkle of the bon
vivant caught in his eye. Yet, Spacey’s demeanor equally bears a somewhat
threatening sophistication, a formidable palette of insincerity, cheek and
class for which the actor has proven time and again to stir and unearth us with
his cynical pathos and sass – the true technical proficiency of a brilliant
actor. Two other outstanding performances mark this assortment of
larger-than-life caricatures remade into flesh and blood: John Cusack, as
Berendt’s amiable alter ego, come to call on an unsuspecting murder mystery
about to unfold right before his eyes, and, Benjamin Edward Knox – better known
throughout Savannah (and since the release of the movie, around the world) as
The Lady Chablis; a drag entertainer, more overtly suggested as a transgender
woman in the movie. “In the south,” Berendt admits, “People regard
other people’s lives as works of art…and Chablis is quintessentially southern
in this respect.” Chablis, in
typically outspoken style, lobbied hard for the part, adding of Eastwood’s
decision to cast her as herself in the movie, “Well…he was a hunk a’ man…and
such a gentleman. He was quiet in a shy sort of way, and yet he was
intimidating in a ‘Dirty Harry’ sort of way.”
Our story begins with voodoo spiritualist, Minerva
(Irma P. Hall) speculating on a park bench, as she observes a plane fly
overhead, carrying writer, John Kelso (John Cusack) to Savannah, almost as
though she knows the reason for his arrival. Kelso has been assigned, at least
so he believes, by his publisher to write a 500-word article for Town and
Country on a Christmas party to take place at wealthy philanthropist, Jim
Williams' heritage estate. What Kelso quickly learns is he has been summoned
there by Williams to write the puff piece for the magazine. Jim's interest in
Kelso is never entirely disclosed, although Kelso does find a copy of the book
he has written on one of the shelves in Jim's study. But Jim is a guarded man,
most notably scrutinized under the watchful eye of his attorney, Sonny Seiler
(Jack Thompson). The first 45-mins. or so of Midnight in the Garden of Good
and Evil in an infectious TripTik through this ever-so-slightly
fictionalized Savannah as Eastwood introduces us to its assorted hams,
eccentrics, exhibitionists and shameless self-promoters. Almost immediately,
Kelso is smitten with the prospects of staying on to do a more intimate and
detailed piece, informing his editor by telephone, “This town is like Gone
with the Wind on mescaline!”
It goes without saying Eastwood is a meticulous
craftsman. No other director working in pictures today possesses the unbridled
courage to simply amble through these warmly amusing southern addresses,
introducing us to an assortment of slick and stylish roués and oddballs,
including nightclub owner, Joe Odem (Paul Hipp), Jim's slightly pert social
secretary (Kim Hunter) and southern belle, Mandy Nicholls, a character created
expressly as a love interest for Kelso and not originally in Berendt’s novel.
But without a doubt the most captivating of the lot is The Lady Chablis (played
to riotous free-spirited perfection by the real Chablis, inexplicably
rechristened ‘Frank’ Deveau in the movie). Kelso first meets Chablis after Jim
is arrested for the murder of Billy Hanson – a crude hustler, perhaps to have
had a sexual liaison with Jim, now turned rancid. Tracking Chablis down via a
bit of free-styled investigative research, determined to get the goods about
her former association with Billy, Kelso is first given the cold shoulder by
Chablis, then warmly embraced by this flamboyant class act who regards life as
her own personal movie with herself as its star, and, who acts as something of
the 'Greek chorus' herein, with running commentary to fill in gaps in the back
story. Through Chablis we discover Billy Hanson was "a good time not
yet had by all".
In one of the film's most exuberant vignettes, Kelso
is invited to attend a fund-raising cotillion that Chablis crashes, wearing an
exquisite and show-stopping blue sequin dress, after having been told by Kelso
she cannot come as his date. Alluding to her own promiscuity, while exposing
the peccadilloes of another of the evening's honored guests, Chablis slickly
seduces a young male party guest with whom she performs some rather risqué
dance moves before being escorted by Kelso from the ballroom. Meanwhile, out on
bond, Jim introduces Kelso to Minerva. On a thickly mist-laden evening, the
three hold a séance over Billy's grave. Minerva implores Jim to ask for Billy's
forgiveness; also, to confess he and Billy were actually lovers. "In
order to understand the living, you got to communicate with the dead!"
Minerva tells him. The pervading eerie atmosphere is capped off by a haunting
jab of dark pleasure. But Jim is suddenly wounded by this revelation and storms
off. The next afternoon, Kelso tells Mandy he is concerned the police have
bungled the crime scene. On a quest for the truth, Mandy helps Kelso sneak into
the morgue to examine Billy's body. Kelso notes Billy's hands might not have
been bagged properly, thus owing to the prosecution's claim there is no gun
powder residue to support Jim's claim of self-defense. According to Jim, Billy,
supposedly fired his gun first on the eve of the murder. This suspicion is
confirmed after Kelso learns Nurse Sara Warren (Patrika Darbo) did, in fact,
bag Billy's hands only after he was brought to the hospital, thus contradicting
Det. Boone's (Leon Rippy) statement at trial that he personally secured all
aspects of the crime scene.
Ecstatic and still believing in Jim's innocence, Kelso
rushes to reveal the evidence he has unearthed, only to have Jim confide to the
contrary; first, the statement he gave police - and the story he continues to
run with at trial - are a lie. Although Billy did - at least, by Jim's account
- threaten him with violence, he did not draw his gun on him. Instead, Jim shot
Billy once in the chest, then again in the back in cold blood. Disillusioned,
Kelso allows Sonny to use the evidence of the botched police investigation to
exonerate Jim anyway. The victory, however, is bittersweet and very short-lived.
For upon returning home, Jim suffers a fatal heart attack in exactly the same
place where he stood on the night of the murder - dropping to the floor and
briefly hallucinating Billy's body lying next to him, the two corpses curiously
regarding each other with a grin as Jim’s supernatural day of reckoning draws
near. After Jim's funeral, Kelso decides to remain in Savannah. The film closes
on the suggestion Kelso and Mandy are on their way to becoming seriously
romantically involved as they are met in the park by Chablis, toting a picnic
basket, and the ominous strains of Johnny Mercer’s ‘Skylark’ are quietly heard
rustling through the breeze in the cemetary where Jim has been laid to rest.
Midnight in the Garden of Good and
Evil is compelling in ways most movies made today are not. Its character-driven
narrative harks all the way back to all those huge ensemble pictures Hollywood
once cultivated with gusto, and most spectacularly throughout the 1930’s with
classics like Grand Hotel (1932) and Dinner at Eight (1933). The
picture greatly benefits from its infusion of ‘real people’ invited to play
themselves. Evidently, participants were treated to the unanticipated rigors of
making a movie - hours of waiting around for the cameras to roll and enduring stifling
heat in elegant evening attire without the benefit of air-conditioning. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil possesses
some subtly nuanced performances. Front and center of these is Kevin Spacey’s
devious, yet courtly art lover, closeted beneath a thin veneer of faux
respectability. Spacey’s secretiveness is counterbalanced by John Cusack’s
transparency. Kelso is an open book, one whose best moments are realized when
the script takes his 'fish out of water' less seriously and to extremes -
allowing the actor to camp it up and play to the irony of being dropped into situations
for which he is entirely unprepared. But Cusack, a spectacularly underrated
actor, also illustrates a profoundness for drama, particularly his reactions to
Jim’s confession of guilt. Here, he is panged, with a modicum of repulsed
disappointment, both in Jim and, arguably, himself, for having been easily
duped into believing in Jim’s false innocence from the outset.
Herein, we pause to offer our sincere praise for the
Lady Chablis who left us much too soon at the age of 59 on September, 8, 2016.
Chablis, who came to prominence via her riotous and unapologetic autobiography,
‘Hiding My Candy: The Autobiography of the Grand Empress of Savannah’
would go on to reach international notoriety with Midnight in the Garden of
Good and Evil. A natural in front of the camera, with charisma plus, and,
to possess the native gifts of an edgy and ebullient raconteur, Chablis’
bawdiness and brains mark her as a stunning adjunct to this film. No ‘actor’
could have brought such vivacity to this part. The chemistry between Chablis
and John Cusack’s naïve Northerner is palpable and engaging. At times, it
effortlessly toggles between the restless sort of traditional male buddy/buddy
camaraderie we are used to seeing at the movies, and, a deliciously
gender-bending bro-mantic chemistry. There is an air of sophistication to this
‘lady’ in question; friskiness too, arguably, derived from channeling her
‘male’ intuition, or perhaps, mere realization she can take the best of both
sexes to create a truly unique and fascinating personality all her own. Chablis’
best advice when dealing with adversity and tragedy - “Two tears in a bucket
– mother fuck it” – was arguably, good advice for us all. And, in recalling her passing on Sept. 8th I recall
a profound sadness washing over me, having caught the Empress’ act at Club One
some years before and being utterly dazzled by her inimitably robust raunch,
done with purpose, and, an unusually soft-centered empathy for the audience,
met with clear-eyed introspection by someone who obviously had lived what she
preached. Drag performers are a dime a dozen. Many wear the clothes, though not
in service to the total assimilation of heart and spirit essential to go beyond
mere caricature and/or performance. The Lady Chablis was, and remains a true maven
of the art, craft, and, the illusion of recreating life itself as a higher form
for its sheer artistry and joy it can deliver. In times yet to follow, the
depth of her loss to the world of entertainment will likely diminish. Time,
after all, marches forward and onto new things, while memory is left to fade.
But there will never be another Lady Chablis.
Jack N. Green's evocative cinematography in Midnight
in the Garden of Good and Evil extols the moody elegance of Savannah -
exploring its rich cultural history with a timely and genuine flair for its
decadence. The final spark of creativity stems from Eastwood's insistence on
using orchestrations written by legendary composer, Johnny Mercer as cues in
service of the action. Mercer, a Savannah native whose former home became the
setting for this real-life murder mystery, wrote some of the 20th
century’s most eloquent ballads. These, at intervals, come to epitomize
Savannah's eclectic neighborhoods. Eastwood bookends his picture with ‘Skylark’
– perhaps, Mercer’s most instantly recognizable and haunting melody, sung
Acapella with sad-eyed restraint and a faint ill-willed wind blown through the
relative tranquility of these cultured landscapes. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
is not as obvious a triumph in Eastwood's directorial canon as it remains a
truly outstanding achievement of the 'little gem' class - extraordinarily meaty
in its characterizations, if occasionally wafer-thin on plot. The picture’s strengths
are entirely owed its ensemble. Who needs ‘story’ when we have such colorful
figures of fun – and danger – to occupy and effortlessly pass our time?
Two grave sins have been rectified with the Warner
Archive’s (WAC) Blu-ray release of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.
The first is for those eager to collect ‘all’ of Eastwood’s directorial
masterworks created under the Warner studio banner. When Warner Home Video
released its ‘Eastwood Collection’ in hi-def back in 2009 it unceremoniously
shunned Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, chiefly, I suspect,
because as late as 2013, the studio was still resting on its laurels,
repackaging the atrociously bad DVD with different cover art but the same
utterly abysmal and severely flawed transfer created all the way back in 1997
at DVD’s infancy. It is not overstating the obvious to suggest that Midnight
in the Garden of Good and Evil on DVD was one of the worst examples of
video mastering ever, wiht whole portions of the image suffering from tiling,
severe edge enhancement, a lot of shimmering of fine details; plus, a
thoroughly digitized and pixelated image that in no way even made the attempt
to replicate Jack N. Green’s lush and moody cinematography.
On Blu-ray, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
emerges as one of the best-looking hi-def offerings to come from WAC. Prepare
to be astonished, as they used to say, because what is here is nothing short of
gorgeous. Colors pop with renewed vibrancy. Flesh tones are extremely accurate.
Greens in foliage are sumptuous. Chablis’ blue sequin gown sparkles with all
the bedazzled excellence of a drag queen in her element and prime. Contrast is
superb with no crushed blacks. Film grain looks very indigenous to its source.
It is more than gratifying to see Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
looking this spectacular on home video. It is a revelation, and one surely to
impress both the first-time viewer, but also the ardent lover of this piece of
cinema art long overdue for the pleasure. The new DTS 5.1 audio is as much, if
not more of a revelation with subtle nuances scattered, and, dialogue sounding
crisp and natural. You are going to LOVE this disc. It’s that simple. The one
miscalculation here is in the extras. We count one: The Real People in the
Garden, a rather scant series of interviews in standard def, conducted with
some of Savannah’s participating gentry. Too bad. Bottom line: very highly
recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the
best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+
EXTRAS
1
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