WRITTEN ON THE WIND: Blu-ray (Universal-International, 1956) Criterion

The obscene nature of absolute wealth and power is at the crux of director, Douglas Sirk’s Written on the Wind (1956), perhaps Sirk’s most enduring and syrupy confection of romanticized sauce and melodrama. The screenplay is stock fifties’ sham and show, a wealthy – but insecure – millionaire/playboy, Kyle Hadley, played affectingly by Robert Stack (stripped of his he-hunk persona) falls madly – even absurdly – for his company’s publicist, Lucy Moore (Lauren Bacall). In record time (18 minutes all told), Kyle beds, weds, then dreads his wife, the bane of his hang-up telescopically focused on a diagnosis of infertility. For a guy whose based his entire modus operandi and life’s pursuit on how many broads he can bag in a weekend, shooting blanks into his new bride is a massive blow to his conceit. And nothing the ever-devoted Lucy does can assuage his fear.  Add to this mix, Kyle’s competition here is Rock Hudson – the epitome of 50’s towering masculinity (nobody knew Rock was gay then), as best friend Mitch Wayne, pursued with ravenous lust by Kyle’s over-sexed sister, Marylee (uber sexpot, Dorothy Malone). Today, Mitch’s abject resistance to Marylee’s crazed desire has taken on a more picaresque quality as, we get a sense of Rock’s deep-seeded secrecy regarding his own sexuality he otherwise worked like hell to conceal from the paying public, and his adoring female fan base, who could barely resist to catch a glimpse of his perfectly formed body.

Written on the Wind catches its triumvirate of stars at a crossroads in their respective careers. For top-billed Hudson, it was yet another example of his fast-tracking away from the sort of raggedly bo-hunk roles Universal had initially tried to hand-craft for him in disposable, but glossy fare; Hudson’s alliance with Sirk for his remake of Magnificent Obsession (1954), followed by All That Heaven Allows (1955) and then, a loan out to director, George Stevens for Warner Bros.’s epic, Giant (1956) having transformed Hudson from heartthrob to serious actor virtually overnight. As for Lauren Bacall, in the wake of her startling debut in To Have and Have Not (1944), followed by a string of memorable screen reunions with her soon-to-be husband, Humphrey Bogart, the actress quickly discovered stardom a fleeting pursuit, her sultry/sassy doll with a whisky voice in danger of losing its Teflon-coated luster after a string of misfires. So, by 1956, Bacall was hardly considered Grade-A talent, hence her acceptance of this less than flashy role at Bogart’s behest.

Lucy Moore is the real/reel wet noodle of this troop. George Zuckerman’s screenplay, based on Robert Wilder’s novel, attempts to recreate the Bacall of yore, our dreams and from memory in the first act. And truth to tell, the Bacall we meet in the first 15-minutes of Written on the Wind is of as much vinegar and vitality as she ever was in those old Bogie and Bacall B&W classics, sparring off Rock Hudson’s oddly demure hunk du jour, even as he entices her into a taxi and then, a chance meeting with his boss, Kyle, who ditches two exotic young play-things for an even better opportunity.  Alas, from the moment Lucy accepts Kyle’s invitation to Miami, this Bacall evaporates, replaced by a confused and increasingly sad-eyed wallflower. Yet, despite this change of heart, nothing Bacall does can entirely conceal her own strength of character. And thus, we get flashes of the Lucy that might have been – the one, Bacall is never entirely allowed to explore. Bacall’s a fine actress. But she isn’t given much to sink her teeth into here. She’s just a girl in love, morphed into the dutiful/devoted ‘little woman’, increasingly awakening to the reality her impromptu decision to wed a tycoon before actually getting to know him was a mistake of epic proportions. After all, she bought a ‘fixer upper’ that cannot be fixed.

The casting of Bob Stack as the tortured ‘lesser than’ to Hudson’s broad-shouldered man’s man is curious, particularly as Stack – a decade earlier – was being well-groomed for precisely these roles Hudson would inherit throughout the fifties – the square-jawed handsome hunk about town, irresistible to all women. On this occasion, Stack is decidedly knocked off this perch, not only by Hollywood’s natural succession – but hitherto, the character’s emasculating devil-may-care sis’. Marylee is ruthless in her admonishments of a brother she believes will inherit her father’s company more out of family nepotism than any genuine belief on the part of their father, Jasper (Robert Keith) that Kyle can run Hadley Oil, except, into the ground. Indeed, Jasper values Mitch over Kyle and makes no apology for it either, except to tread lightly when revealing as much to his boy, and furthermore, taking an invested interest in his son’s ‘social disease’ – enough to give him a fatal heart attack.

Stack is about as believable as the weakened and embittered bon vivant as Hudson is credible, playing a geologist. So, it’s rather perplexing he was, in fact, Oscar-nominated as Best Supporting Actor for Kyle Hadley. Less surprising is the notion MGM – having loaned him out to Universal-International to do the picture, lobbied heavily against Stack with Academy voters as another of their own – Anthony Quinn – was in the running for the coveted statuette (which Quinn won over Stack for 1956’s Lust for Life). One scene in particular, sums up Kyle’s angst – Stack, offering us a paralytic stare of utter devastation as he eyes a small boy having his prepubescent testicles bashed against the hard surface of an electric riding horse, only moments after learning of his own infertility. It’s an unintentionally hilarious moment, just one of the Sirk-ian flubs that intermittently dilute the tragedy in Written on the Wind from being taken seriously as ‘serious’ drama. On the plus side, Hudson and Stack have a certain fatalistic bro-mantic chemistry brewing, with Bacall – to her credit, herein playing it as just one of the boys too. And, having lost the affections of her husband, the love-starved Lucy naturally leans on the honorable, Mitch for ‘moral’ support.  He could kick himself for this, and probably should, as his initially frank introduction to Lucy secured not only her trust but also her admiration – cheaply discarded once Kyle’s bank account turned on ‘the charm’.

The most over-the-top performance in Written on the Wind is Dorothy Malone’s venomous man trap, Marylee who, sporting Bill Thomas’ proto-lush/cleavage-plunging ball gowns and with her pseudo-Marilyn platinum tresses – not one hair out of place – dances with as much robotic finesse as Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ Elaine did on Seinfeld with one major distinction – Dreyfus did it, strictly for laughs, whereas Malone is legitimately attempting to exude wild and unhinged eroticism, aimed at titillating not only Mitch, but the male audience seated in the dark. Personally, I cannot imagine any guy to get his knickers in a ball over Malone’s frenetically gyrating chicklet, poured into these obvious creations. In only one scene, does Malone’s cavorting serve as a dramatic highpoint. Jasper, having exhausted himself on the preservation of his family’s declining dignity, suffers a massive heart attack, toppling to his death from the apex of a dramatically stylized spiral staircase, a scene intercut with Malone’s heartless vixen pounding the plush shag in her bedroom slippers.  Malone, who began her career a decade earlier, playing slightly flirtatious females, completely rewrote her image as Marylee – the part of this ravenously-cured dipso-nymphomaniac winning her a Best Supporting Actress Oscar and scores of fans besides. Today, it plays like pure camp run amok. But in the straight-jacketed/conservative 50’s, it likely broke the mold, especially since Malone, until then, had been largely known for playing good girls with only a hint of petty larceny lurking beneath their bonnets.  For Malone, Written on the Wind was a real/reel uptick in quality and, it did, in fact, open a lot of doors in Hollywood for her future career.

Written on the Wind sports the usual Sirk-ian touches, including am overly dramatic score by Frank Skinner, with a Sammy Cahn/Victor Young main title, sung by The Four Aces, and, in gloriously Technicolor that one anticipates, visually lush with bold colors to evoke mood and period. Marylee’s candy-apple red sports car, Kyle’s lemon-yellow Allard J2X roadster, the super-saturated make-up of the ladies, bedecked in an eye-popping assortment of gowns, furs and diamonds, the interior sets, to include the Hadley manor, a sparkling edifice, part/American traditional meets post-war mid-century modern, an exercise a la art directors, Robert Clatworthy and Universal stalwart, Alexander Golitzen; trend-setting examples of Hollywood chic, thanks also to Russell Metty’s plush cinematography. Written on the Wind was, in fact, one of only a handful of ‘flat 35mm widescreen’ movies to be printed direct to matrix by Technicolor, ensuring the highest possible print quality. So, what’s here really glows off the screen in true Sirk-ian fashion, creating a heightened sense of artifice in a decade prone to such highly stylized depictions of ‘reality’.

Written on the Wind sports a good deal of characterizations and situations which today are largely considered as grotesquely cliché. Indeed, every night time soap from the mid-80’s onward made a cultural institution and template from these dysfunctional family precepts; the broken son, the over-sexed/headstrong daughter, the noble patriarch trying to keep it all together…Dynasty, anyone? And the prototypes are alive and well today, though primarily to be sustained in syndicated television programming, like Yellowstone, over mainstream movies. On this outing, we are introduced to moody, insecure and alcoholic playboy, Kyle Hadley, peeling his tires, though arguably, spinning his wheels in his sleek roadster, arriving (under the main titles) at the home of his late father. Only moments later, a gunshot echoes through these cavernous rooms and Kyle, distraught and, presumably, mortally wounded, stumbles outside before collapsing just beyond the front porch.

In an upstairs bedroom, Kyle’s wife, Lucy faints dead away – a calendar regressing us nearly a full year – to the moment when Lucy met Kyle’s right-hand man, Mitch Wayne. His tameness wins over her tart-mouthed rebuttals and, before long, the pair are sharing a cab for a luncheon date at Manhattan’s famed ‘21’ club – where ‘the elite meet’. There, Kyle is already well on his way to a Hunter-Biden styled bender with two flamboyant gal/pals who mean absolutely nothing to him. Kyle is immediately overwhelmed by Lucy. She isn’t all that impressed. So, after an awkward ‘cute meet’, he boorishly commandeers a taxi, whisking Lucy to the airport for an impromptu trip to Miami. Too bad, Mitch has found his way to Kyle’s private plane first. So, a getaway for two becomes an escape made by three. Mitch is mildly disgusted by the slick way Kyle manages to wear down Lucy’s defenses and principles, showing her a posh private suite, fully outfitted and catering to her every need. Or has Kyle won her heart completely? Not so, as sometime later, Kyle returns to Lucy’s room only to discover she has already bolted for the airport.

Intercepting her flight, Kyle convinces Lucy not merely to partake of his generosity, but to elope with him on a whirlwind romance. Alas, on their honeymoon night, Lucy discovers her husband sleeps with a loaded pistol under his pillow. Returning home, the sadder but wiser man, Mitch is questioned by Kyle’s father, Jasper about the ‘new’ woman in his son’s life. But before the discussion can go very far, Kyle returns with Lucy on his arm. Jasper is exceedingly impressed with his son’s choice, hoping Lucy will finally be able to cure Kyle of his ills and vices. For a brief while, Lucy exudes a positive influence. Meanwhile, Marylee redoubles her efforts to land Mitch, whom she has loved since they were children. Alas, he does not favor her. And thus, she takes up with wildcatter, Roy Carter (John Larsh). Their ‘affair’ in the back of Dan Willis’ (Robert J. Wilke) bar does not go very far when Willis telephones Mitch to come to the rescue. Attempting chivalry on Marylee’s behalf, Kyle is easily pummeled by Roy before being put out of his misery by Mitch – who knocks him senseless.

Thereafter, Marylee tries her hand with gas pump jockey, Biff Miley (Grant ‘the incredible shrinking man’ Williams). Alas, this too runs afoul of the police who arrest the pair and bring Marylee and Biff back to Jasper to face his wrath. Regrettably, the old man suffers from a weak heart. Mitch questions Biff regarding the events of the evening and, satisfied with his answers, allows him to go free while Marylee retires to her room to revel in the knowledge she has, once more, gotten under Mitch’s skin. At a lavish house party given in honor of Lucy and Kyle, Marylee makes a spectacle of herself dancing. Just prior to the evening, Marylee confronted Lucy, implying she was merely a gold digger. Lucy is unruffled by the accusation. Now, Marylee skulks off to the study, finding Mitch alone with his thoughts. She tries, in vain, to insight his dishonorable intentions. Careworn and weary, Jasper excuses himself and tries to retire for the night. He is felled by a fatal heart attack and tumbles from the top of the stairs into the foyer down below. Having failed yet again, Marylee tries a softer approach to seducing Mitch the following afternoon, staging a quiet picnic near the spot she, Kyle and Mitch used to play when they were children. Again, Mitch cannot commit to Marylee. The party ought to have been a triumph for Kyle and Lucy. Only, Kyle now learns from family physician, Dr. Paul Cochrane (Edward C. Platt), while hardly sterile, preliminary tests have nevertheless indicated an enfeebled sperm count, greatly to challenge the prospect of his siring a child. Having tired of the Hadleys, Mitch informs his father, Hoak (Harry Shannon) he is entertaining a new job offer in Iran.

As Lucy and Kyle’s relationship has become strained since the eve of the party, Mitch picks her up from a doctor’s appointment. It’s good news. Lucy is pregnant with Kyle’s baby. But Kyle, since suspicious of a growing attachment between Mitch and his wife, now suspects the baby she is carrying is his best friend’s – not his! This, of course, drives a wedge between Kyle, Mitch and Lucy, compounded by Marylee who jealously insists Mitch is in love with Lucy, which is, in fact, true, although neither Mitch nor Lucy have ever acted upon their impulses. A disgruntled and drunken Kyle attacks Lucy whose cries for help cause Mitch to burst into the room. Lucy suffer a miscarriage and Mitch, more disgusted than ever by his friend’s behavior, vows to leave town the moment Lucy is well enough to travel with him. We return to the night featured under the movie’s opening credits. Kyle, insane with jealously, arrives home in a drunken rage, intent on murdering Mitch. Instead, he and Marylee struggle with his pistol and it discharges, killing Kyle. At the inquest, Marylee lies Mitch murdered Kyle in a jealous rage, but then recants this version of events because she cannot help but love the man who will never be hers to have. The death is judged accidental. As Mitch and Lucy prepare to leave the Hadley estate for the last time, a tearful Marylee takes her place behind her father’s desk, now the sole heir apparent to the one-time family dynasty.

Written on the Wind was a hugely popular movie in its day. Today, it plays as a fairly dated, glossy and amusingly overwrought drama, more engaging for its ‘star turns’ than its plot. Novelist, Robert Wilder is rumored to have pilfered much of his prose from the real-life death of 20-yr.-old playboy, Zachary ‘Smith’ Reynolds, heir to the R.J. Reynolds tobacco fortune, and, who like the fictional Kyle Hadley, shared a complete disinterest in the family biz, but exercised his volatile and self-destructive nature by abusing his seemingly inexhaustible allowance. Also, like Kyle, Smith dogged his paramour (in his case, Broadway musical comedy star, Libby Holman) until she gave in and married him. Tensions over an unwanted pregnancy, gunshots and Reynolds dead, presumably by Holman’s hand, with lover, Ab Walker waiting in the wings – the two indicted for murder but eventually acquitted as Reynolds was judged to have taken his own life – and well…the parallels here are fairly transparent to anyone with eyes. Retrospectively, Dorothy Malone was to reflect she ‘sensed’ something remiss about her co-star, Rock Hudson while shooting their thwarted ‘romantic’ scenes. Hudson, then newlywed to Phyllis Gates, and apparently ‘happy’ in that marriage, was somewhat aloof. Nevertheless, Malone gives Hudson props for coaxing her through her Oscar-winning performance, offering a kind word and sense of security while they worked together. So too, did Robert Stack have nothing but good memories of Hudson’s camaraderie on the set. “Any other actor would have gone to the studio and said, ‘Hey look, I’m the star. You cut this guy down to size,” Stack reminisced, “But he (Hudson) never did. I never forgot that.” When it was all over, Bogart was not at all impressed, believing Bacall was the real loser of the piece. Bacall seconded the opinion, ear-marking the picture as ‘a masterpiece of suds.’ However, given its popularity with audiences, Sirk chose to reunite Stack, Hudson and Malone again for 1957’s high-flying drama, The Tarnished Angels. For those with morbid curiosity, the two talents hired to play Mitch Wayne – Rock Hudson, and voice actor, Robert Winans (heard, but never seen in an aural flashback presumably playing inside Marylee’s head) both died at the age of 60 – Hudson from AIDS in 1985, and Winans, of a heart attack in 2000.

Written on the Wind finally arrives on Blu-ray via the Criterion Collection. Dirty little secret – French label, Elephant Films has been distributing this one in hi-def for well over a decade, and, in a region free offering that allows for the removal of French subtitles and audio. The Criterion is described as a ‘new’ 2K restoration, which is rather suspect, considering Elephant’s source was also in 2K. Why the norm and standard by now should not be a new ‘4K’ scan, even if the results get dumped down to 1080p is beyond me and suggests Universal, the custodians of these masters, have merely farmed out the same transfer they gave to Elephant, finally on loan-out to Criterion. The results, in fact, are remarkably similar, with Criterion’s disc skewing just a tad darker and the color palette, strangely, lacking the 'oomph' in lushness that accompanied the Elephant release. Universal has arguably done their homework on this remastering effort as colors are deeply saturated.  Contrast is excellent and there is no hint of age-related damage. Process plates look a bit faded, and opticals suffer from an amplification of grain. But otherwise, this is a nice-looking disc with Criterion’s usual PCM mono audio sounding precise and clean. Extras include ‘Acting for Douglas Sirk’ – a 2008 documentary with archival interviews. We also get a newly produced puff piece from film scholar, Patricia White and an essay from filmmaker/critic Blair McClendon. Okay, so Criterion’s a bit thin on the goodies this time around. The doc is welcomed, but White’s analysis tends to be dull and uninspired. Bottom line: Written on the Wind is the movie that spawned an entire cottage industry of like-minded over-the-top melodrama and remains, in many ways, the ultimate template for the television soap opera. The stars make it endlessly re-watchable. Criterion’s ‘new to Blu’ is the way to go.

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

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

3