Foglie d'autunno

Joan Crawford aged like fine wine, and even at 51 she is quite believable as the romantic lead here. She plays Millicent Wetherby, a lonely 40ish woman who has sacrificed her youth taking care of her invalid father. Now he is gone and she feels like life has passed her by until Burt Hanson (Cliff Robertson in only his second film appearance) interrupts her chicken salad one night at a diner. He practically pries open her life, and they begin dating even though he is over ten years younger than she. She tries to be practical, but he sweeps her off her feet and the two elope to Mexico. Then she starts to notice little things...he has told her he was from Racine, now he says he is from Chicago. Burt meets Joan's employer and talks about all of the battles he saw in the military when he has told her previously that he was a supply clerk and never saw action during his time in the service, but the final straw is when an ex-wife she didn't even know about shows up at her door.

This is a hard film to characterize. It's definitely not a soaper, but it has aspects of that. It has romance, dealing with mental illness, and even elements of a thriller to it. It deals with the self-doubt we all have about the choices we have made in life. No high-camp Johnny Guitar is this film. Although, don't get me wrong, I love Joan in her campy 50's films too.

Cliff Robertson is almost at the bottom of the bill on this one, even though he really is the male lead. This is only his second film, yet he pulls off the part of the child-like Burt like a pro. It's also good to see Ruth Donnelly as Milly's ever-supportive older neighbor twenty years after she was a contract player over at Warner Brothers. I highly recommend this film for anyone who even remotely enjoys Joan Crawford's films. You don't have to be a big fan to appreciate this one.

I thought this movie was fabulous. It is a woman's picture, but the tag line made it seem like some William Castle horror flick. By no stretch of the imagination is this a silly little weepy. Parts of it seem to be designed to disturb (the typewriter scene), and even the tender moments are edgy to me. (I just used the word "tender" in a sentence. Kill me now.)

Joan Crawford (one of my favorites) plays Millicent Weatherby, a 40ish spinster who spent most of her life taking care of her invalid father and bemoaning her ridiculous name. Score one for Joan already, as she was not 40ish, but 50ish. Cliff Robertson (I tell everyone "Uncle Ben" from "Spiderman") is the 20ish fella she meets in a restaurant. I think he was 20ish, but score one for him too; he's adorable. Cliff hides some horrible secret, and he's a major liar, but Joan falls for him anyway. He takes her to the beach, where they make out in the sand. (I love it when the surf comes crashing up against Joan and boy! does she flinch. Must have been chilly out that day.) They trot off to Mexico and get hitched. Then Joan starts to realize that maybe she doesn't know Cliff as well as she thought she did. He lies and then tells the truth, and who's to know the difference? Even he doesn't. Eventually Cliff's relatives get involved and then things get really sticky. Is Joan out to get Cliff? Tune in to the next episode to find out!!! Seriously, I felt for Joan. She had a rough time. First the invalid father that caused her to lose all contact with the outside world, and then this guy who can't get his lies straight. Oh, but she manages beautifully. At this point in her career, Joan believed that acting and hand gestures didn't have to go together. You sometimes begin to wonder if her arms even function. (I suspect this was a jab at the arm-flailing Bette Davis, but that's just a hunch.) Just watching her stand there, all broad-shouldered and strong, makes you realize that of course she is going to get through. Former chorus girls always do, because they've got guts and know how. Best moment--after Joan decides she's no good for Cliff, she goes back to that aforementioned beach and just sits there. It's a lovely shot, and Joan looks less ironclad than usual.

By the by, a note to the other reviewer whose name I can't remember. Joan Crawford would not DARE say "And you, YA slut." She says, very precisely, "And you, YOU slut." Enunciation was very important to the Texas-born Lucille LeSueur/Joan Crawford. Bette Davis might say "ya slut," but never Joan Crawford.

Autumn Leaves finds Joan Crawford as fortyish unmarried woman living alone in a court bungalow with landlady Ruth Donnelly for occasional company. A chance meeting with young Cliff Robertson at a concert brings two people with needs together.

Cliff's needs are much bigger than her's however. For all his surface charm, the man has some deep issues. Part of which is that he's grown up without a mother another part of which his father Lorne Greene did him one terrible hurt.

The film was Cliff Robertson's breakout role and he does a fine job, running the whole emotional alphabet from the charming and shallow young man who overcompensates a lot to his mental breakdown with Crawford which is terrifying. Crawford gets one of her best late career roles as well. Not much is said about her mental state, but the way she interprets the part, Joan's needs are as much maternal as romantic and Robertson seems to fill the bill.

For those of you who expect to see wise and patriarchal Ben Cartwright, that is not the Lorne Greene you see here. In fact before being cast in Bonanza, Greene played a nice variety of nasty people in such films as The Buccaneer, Tight Spot, and this one. Vera Miles is also here as Robertson's ex-wife and a piece of work herself.

Robert Aldrich does a good job with Joan Crawford and the rest of the cast. But the film really belongs to Cliff Robertson, after this performance, his career was assured.

(A line from one of the characters of the movie)

Wow! I watched this on TV on a lark - the movie had a "To Be Announced" and no description, so I didn't know what to expect; I didn't know the story line. My only previous experience with Joan Crawford as an actress was "Baby Jane", and I really don't know much about her.

This was an unexpected treat - the acting throughout is superb, and since it is B&W, the use of dramatic lighting and use of unusual camera angles adds depth and drama to the story.

When Millicent begins to realize that Burt is a pathological liar, it made me want to say, "Run, girl, RUN!". But then, the villains appear on the scene (Vera Miles and Lorne Greene), and the awful truth is revealed. (BTW, I only knew Greene as Ben Cartwright, but when he was younger, he was HOT! And, that VOICE! But, I digress...). One of the best lines - that made me laugh out loud - that other viewers have mentioned, "And YOU....you SLUT!" - is so good because of how Crawford delivers it. Such dignity.

It is a true phenomenon that when a mind is faced with an unspeakable trauma, the creation of a 'fantasy life' can be created to make the trauma more "manageable". Burt's breakdown is understandable, but the horrific truth of how most psycho-therapy was conducted back in the day (drugs and electro-shock therapy) makes the sanitarium scenes difficult to watch.

But...the deep strength of Millicent is the true face of love. To love another so much that she wanted Burt to have a happy future, even if it didn't include her, is what this reviewer sees as the very heart of love. Although actors are trained to portray a wide range of characters and emotions, I believe that a woman must be truly strong to be able to portray Millicent - and that gives one insight as to Joan Crawford's own character.

And, how does it end? That is for you to find out. Watch it - it's gripping, entertaining, engaging - and the kind of movie you can watch with someone special. And, watching how they respond to this movie will give YOU some insights!

Even 50 years after it was released, this movie is shocking. The betrayal is appalling. The incest is not romanticized or played for any sort of laughs. The physical violence is both subtle and horrifying: We don't quite see what Cliff Robertson does to typist Joan Crawford but we get the idea very clearly. And it is shocking almost beyond words.

Crawford does a fine job. She may have been better in a couple other movies -- her signature, "Mildred Pierce"; "Sudden Fear." But as entertaining as "Mildred Pierce" is and as beautifully made as "Sudden Fear" is, I'd choose this as the best movie in which she appears (if possibly not her single best performance.) Cliff Robertson is perfectly cast as the handsome young man who woos her. He IS handsome. But this character is troubled, and Robertson plays that brilliantly. This is the movie for which he should have won as Oscar.

Lorne Greene is a sneering villain. He's even farther from "Bonanza" here than Raymond Burr was from "Perry Mason" in the many film noir outings that predated that series.

Vera Miles turns in a fine, evil performance too. She did well for Hitchcock but I think this is the best I've ever seen her.

Ruth Donnelly is Crawford's landlady and pal. She is cast against the type she played in her standard movie. And she's very good. I'm not entirely sure the slightly light touch she gives the character is right in this context. But Aldrich knew what he was doing; so it must be.

I saw "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane" when it first came out. I was a child and had never seen Bette Davis or Joan Crawford before. I was totally confused by the whole thing. In later years, I've seen it again and it's fun.

But though it shares one star with Autumn Leaves," "Autumn Leaves" is closer to Aldrich's greatest picture in style: "Kiss Me Deadly." "Autumn Leaves" seems like a high toned soap opera on the surface. It's about an older woman who allows herself to fall in love. Etc. But that's not what the movie is. It's dark and it's deep.

I can't quite figure out whether it could have been better with a less turgid actress. In a way, some of its themes presage those of "Room at the Top." Signoret could have blown us away in "Autumn Leaves." So could Jeanne Moreau. But would the movie have been as believable? Maybe not. It may be just about perfect as it is.