The Legend of Lylah Clare

I think the word to describe it is "unbelievable". Peter Finch is in it, an actor known for being rather picky. He was to win an Oscar for "Network" I wonder what this movie looked on paper. Robert Aldrich won his dues with films like "Attack", "The Big Knife" even "Whatever Happened To Baby Jane" another camp fest but with a brain and a real intention. Here, everything is in top gear without ever really moving. In short, a mystery. Poor Kim Novak. Even her make-up doesn't make any sense. Pale lips. It's pointless for me to go on, you have to see it. I had the chance, thanks to Turner Classic Movies. Kim Novak's character seems to be possessed by the spirit of Lylah Clare, the doomed star she's suppose to to play in a preposterous movie about her life. When she is under the influence of the spirit, she laughs and talks with the grave tones of a hybrid, part Lotte Lenya part Mercedes MacCambridge. Outrageous! Peter Finch playing the director and one of the former Lylah's lovers creates a monster without nuances. His debate with the studio head, played loudly by Ernest Borgnine, about films vs movies seems to be Aldrich's major preoccupation. Valentina Cortese's costume designer is a very brief delight, Rosella Falk's lesbian is in unintentional hoot but the prize goes to Coral Browne, playing a columnist as if she were Catherine The Great and with a wooden leg. I swear I'm not joking. As yo may very well suspect, I think this is one of the worst films I've ever seen and yes, I had a lot of fun. That's why a 5 out of 10 seem fair to me.

On the surface - a once great and prolific director (Peter Finch) hasn't directed a film in 20 years, ever since his movie star wife died on their wedding day. He decides to get back in the game with a film about his late wife's life when he meets an aspiring actress (Kim Novak) who looks just like her. And no this is not Vertigo, though that word plays into things. And Ellen Corby shows up as a script "girl" in a bit part, and she was also in Vertigo. But James Stewart is definitely not here as this thing veers into David Lynch territory.

Director Aldrich quite deliberately peppers the first third with just enough intriguing moments and plot questions to make it just compelling enough that the viewer will be lured into sticking with it. Then a sort of Stockholm Syndrome sets in, where you know you should turn it off, but you just can't.

Then in the last two thirds, he throws enough crazy, off-the-wall stuff at you, that- in the grand tradition of M. Night Shyamalan- the viewer cannot walk away because you just can't believe that the film is this bad. You keep hanging in there because all of your principles are being challenged. You think they simply can't be going with this story, these performances, this dialogue - it must get better. But it just gets wilder and weirder and with a cast that was in demand at the time. Why did these stars agree to do this? And why is every actress in the film like Natasha from the old Rocky & Bullwinkle show doing a bad Greta Garbo imitation?

And then you end up watching the whole movie because you just want to see how they have the pure, unmitigated gall to end it....and also because there's a slight chance that there's information tacked on after the closing credits regarding how you can become a party in a class-action lawsuit aimed at the people who made it.

But no, the end just makes you realize that a doggie door is a potentially dangerous thing. So in the tradition of 1990's Night Killer, don't watch this looking for a good movie. Watch this for one that from beginning to end is completely messed up but is not boring.

Robert Aldrich had a solid career which includes some extremely fine work such as "Kiss Me Deadly" and "The Big Knife" from his early period. He handled large action movies ("The Dirty Dozen") with the same craftsmanship as small .intimate pieces, ("The Killing of Sister George"). In both "Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte" and perhaps his most famous movie "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane", there is a definite camp touch which is carefully controlled in that it never derails the proceedings but only adds much to the general enjoyment of these films as a whole.

"The Legend of Lylah Clare" is a film that cannot be derailed, since from the very first frame it's clearly out of control. What proceeds is a very bumpy ride indeed. The question that remains is just how much of this was intentional. Can one consciously make actors perform so ludicrously, and if so, just what is the point ? It's seems totally unfeasible that a director with Aldrich's record should allow these poor actors to humiliate themselves in having to deliver the most preposterous dialog imaginable. Perhaps it's his hate letter to Hollywood. Aldrich who steered clear of the tyranny of Hollywood by establishing his own production company, paints a truly crass portrait of the movie industry. The point is that this is not an intelligent, witty or biting take on the industry, it's simply a grotesque movie which really has to be seen to be believed. Actors with vast experience such as Peter Finch and Ernest Borgnine are made to look like total amateurs in the business. And then there's Kim Novak. (One can only wonder what Tuesday Weld made of the role in the original television version.) Perhaps one should not be too surprised that this was her last American movie, and the signal of the beginning of the end of her somewhat shaky career.

Novak was apparently thrust into stardom far too fast. Her radiant screen presence may have been captivating but there was little real talent behind the looks. What she did exude was a vulnerability which seems to be founded on her justified lack of confidence as an actress. Columbia groomed her as a potential new Marilyn Monroe. But no matter what dark complexes were lurking beneath Monroe's screen presence, she always made us believe she was having a ball. That was her genius. Novak always seems uncomfortable and decidedly awkward. It's something that at times may have worked in her favor, but ultimately her lack of having what it really takes could not be disguised. Lylah Clare is a role that many a Hollywood actress of the time could really have sunk their teeth into. Novak simply does not have a clue what to do with it and director Aldrich leaves her stranded.

The awfulness of this movie becomes riveting in itself. You'll probably want to see it through to the end. One of the greatest worst movies of all time.

Another piece of yesterday from Robert Aldrich, filthied-up through his askew, slightly campy/slightly serious vision. We never know where we sit with an Aldrich movie; he enjoys setting up a comfortable scenario before wickedly pulling the rug out from under his audience. He also exposes the weaknesses of Kim Novak as an actress, rather cruelly allowing the puckered blonde to look silly (at her expense) and without ever giving her a fair shot at a meaty scene. The opening moments are richly evocative, but they don't last long: Kim (in a mousy brown wig) hangs out in a dingy apartment in Hollywood, surrounded by movie magazines and celebrity biographies. Turns out she resembles a long-deceased movie queen named Lylah Clare and is quickly tapped to star in a picture of the actress' doomed life--to be directed by Lylah's widower husband! Bits of satire, supernatural elements, trendy lesbianism and symbolism muddy up this potboiler, which is almost always overwrought but never boring. Peter Finch and Coral Browne are worth watching, and Novak's mere presence is tantalizing (even if her acting is not). Frank De Vol's background score is lush, and the finale is interesting if a tiny bit inscrutable. It is Aldrich's stamp as a filmmaker to go over-the-top; here, he goes over-the-edge as well. **1/2 from ****

THE LEGEND OF LYLAH CLARE looks initially like some sort of camp classic. Don't expect a companion piece to VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, however. Kim Novak plays a mousy aspiring actress picked to portray Lylah Clare, a Marlene Dietrich/Greta Garbo-type screen goddess from Hollywood's golden era who died tragically 30 years before, in a screen version of her life. Under the tutelage of Peter Finch, Lylah's director and husband, Novak is transformed physically and psychologically into the screen star. Along the way, we're treated to three different versions of Lylah's death(kitschy flashbacks in watery black and white framed with lurid red borders, with Novak's close-up in the corner of the screen), a great bitch-out scene between Novak as Lylah and a crippled gossip-columnist hag based on Louella Parsons, a lesbian drama coach, and Novak spouting dubbed, throaty, German-accented dialogue. The make-up job on Novak to make her look like Lylah really doesn't reflect 1930s movie glamour; with her teased and bleached bob, frosted pink lips, and inch-thick eyeliner, she looks more like Dusty Springfield than Jean Harlow. Despite all this, the film isn't some out-of-control camp fest. Really. No scenery chomping, bad dubbed singing sequences, emotional breakdowns, down-and-dirty catfights, or the like. The only fault with a performance might be with Novak during her fits when she impersonates Lylah, throwing her head back to laugh maniacally in that throaty, faux-Garbo accent. Still, its the only real fault in an otherwise competent film. Aldrich is hardly subtle with his digs at the Hollywood system and corruption, but they come out during the course of his characters' conversations and aren't sensationalized. Too many good performances and sympathetic characters to keep it from being an all-out guilty pleasure, but still engaging