Se Eu Soubesse Amar

Sadly out of print, this camp classic is a textbook example of the very worst of 1950's cinema. There's the incredibly saturated Technicolor; the absurd art direction (Joan's oh-so-modern, electronic bedroom, for instance); the sublimely exaggerated wardrobe; and, above all, late-mid-period Joan Crawford, acting, acting, ACTING. By this time, Crawford was already a Hollywood legend; she'd made her debut in 1924, was a top box office draw throughout the 1930's, was considered a has been by the 1940's, and then made a phoenix-like comeback with her Oscar-winning turn in "Mildred Pierce." Since then, her screen persona had hardened into that of the glamorous, ballsy dame--increasingly mannish and emasculating. Where the young Crawford had once been romanced by the likes of Clark Gable, Robert Taylor and Spencer Tracy, this atomic-era Crawford chewed up and spat out her increasingly colorless male foils. In "Torch Song," her unfortunate co-star is the veddy British Michael Wilding (then Mr. Elizabeth Taylor), who plays a blind pianist. (No, really.) Crawford is Jenny Stewart, a huge musical comedy star, who "has the mouth of angel, but the words that come out are pure tramp!" Needless to say, Ms. Stewart makes Helen Lawson look like Mother Teresa. Flashing her huge eyes, shoving cigarettes between her blood-red lips, sashaying about in various glamorous creations, Crawford is the undisputed star of the show. Wilding doesn't stand a chance (poor Gig Young fares even worse--his dissipated, parasitic character is written out halfway through). Crawford and Wilding "meet nasty"--that is to say, she berates him with such gems as "Why don't you get yourself a seeing eye girl!" I won't ruin the ending for you, but suffice to say, it's pure Hollywood soap. Joan even has a poor-folks, plain-speakin' Ma, played by Marjorie Rambeau! Along the way, Joan does several song-and-dance routines designed to show that the 45-year-old star still had a formidable figure. The two most famous are, of course, the notorious "Two Faced Woman," performed, inexplicably, outrageously, appallingly, hysterically, in blackface; and the rehearsal hall scene where Jenny Stewart practically castrates a chorus boy who trips over her leg. "He's paid a very handsome salary to dance AROUND that leg!" she growls. "Torch Song" really exists as an offering on the shrine of Joan Crawford--a big, fat, juicy Technicolor love letter to her glamour and legend. As such, it doesn't get much better than this.

Sometimes the release on DVD of a particular film in which, ostensibly, I have very little interest makes me watch it regardless when it happens to get shown on TV – and this is just one such example. Actually, it forms part of a Box Set which does contain at least two enticing titles: Frank Borzage’s STRANGE CARGO (1940) and George Cukor’s A WOMAN’S FACE (1941).

Although hardly one of my personal favorites, Joan Crawford was one of Hollywood’s foremost leading ladies: starting out in the late Silent era, she epitomized the “woman’s pictures” in the 1930s and 1940, eventually winning an Oscar for Michael Curtiz’s superb noir-ish melodrama, MILDRED PIERCE (1945). By the time Crawford did TORCH SONG, she had been a freelancer for ten years and this marked a return to the studio which had discovered her, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Stories of entertainment divas alienating their loved ones through their constant tantrums were already clichéd by this time, I suppose, but this is nevertheless a watchable and, given that there are a few musical numbers, surprisingly painless diversion which has, somewhat unaccountably, earned a reputation of late as a camp classic. This may be down mostly to the fact that Crawford (whose singing voice is dubbed) does one of her routines, “Two-Faced Woman”, in blackface; incidentally, this song was originally meant for Vincente Minnelli’s THE BAND WAGON (1953) as a duet of sorts between Cyd Charisse and Oscar Levant! This is not to say that watching Crawford (in her late forties and her first full-length feature in Technicolor) showing off her legs at every available opportunity does not give rise to some amusement.

Crawford’s leading man here is Britain’s Michael Wilding as a blind pianist(!) and her no-nonsense mother is played by Marjorie Rambeau (who was, surprisingly enough, even nominated for an Oscar); the supporting cast is further filled out by rather thankless turns from Gig Young (as Crawford’s playboy companion) and Harry Morgan (as the theatrical impresario). Director/choreographer Charles Walters rounded out a good year for him with this movie – which had also included the Oscar-nominated LILI and Esther Williams’ most popular vehicle, DANGEROUS WHEN WET.

It's hard to believe that, except for a couple of very brief sequences in earlier films, audiences had to wait until 1953 to see Miss Crawford in Technicolor. She gave them enough here to last a lifetime! With inferno red hair, scarlet lips and an assortment of garish costume pieces, she served up a retina-scorching musical that is as fascinating as it is preposterous. Crawford plays the most hard-nosed, ball-busting theatre diva imaginable. (Things veer into science-fiction rather early when it's shown that Crawford has a loyal following of devoted TEEN fans.) During rehearsals for her latest revue, she berates everyone in sight as she strives to have everything her way. She trips her dance partner with her ever-extended right leg, rewrites the dialogue, redesigns the costumes (hilariously swooping the design board in the air to see how the swatch of chiffon will behave once it's attached to her!) and just generally steamrolls over everyone. She meets her match, however, when meek pianist Wilding shows up and softly, but firmly challenges her taste when it comes to her interpretations of the show's songs. To top it off, he's blind, though this detail only slightly curbs Miss Crawford's vicious tongue. Eventually, the two begin to work together, tenuously, but Wilding's effect on her starts to become a romantic one. Despite her slight softening, he remains strangely reticent. Crawford, used to getting what she wants, strives to make him her own. In the midst of all this romantic tension are several musical numbers (with a throaty India Adams providing the highly melodramatic vocals) which range from pitiful to screamingly ridiculous. One has Crawford emerging hilariously from behind a wall and rolling in circles across the stage where she finally disappears behind another wall. In the most famous scene, she descends a cheap-looking staircase dressed in a scary turquoise chiffon and beaded gown with a slit up to her loin while wearing black-face!!! Exceedingly uncoordinated female dancers stiffly turn about as Crawford wanders through the male chorus (with all of them in black-face as well!) Afterwards, in a fit of fury, she rips off her black wig and the viewer is faced with her chocolate skin, crimson lips, ice blue eyes and a tangled mess of tangerine orange hair sprouting heavenward! The film is bent on displaying the most putrescent colors imaginable. Her bedroom walls are a nauseating sea foam green and she wears a hysterical electric lemon yellow robe that is about 10 sizes too big. (In a symbolic touch, she shuts out the world from her bedroom with THREE layers of draperies at the window.) Oddly, though Joan isn't the blind one, her home is virtually devoid of any pictures or artwork. Only one small painting can be seen in the place. The film is chock full of deliciously rotten dialogue and snippy comments and is a must see for any fan of the star. It's also brimming over with unintentional humor as Joan overdoes every line, look and gesture. Clocking in with some intentional humor is the splendorous Rambeau as Crawford's money-grubbing mother. Her reaction (both verbal and non-verbal) to Crawford's announcement that she's fallen for a blind man is one of the all-time uproarious bits of acting and dialogue. For her trouble, she was granted an Oscar nomination, which couldn't have thrilled Crawford, who was busily gnawing on all of the scenery in an attempt to gain another one herself! As for Wilding, he plays blindness as if the loss of one's sight equals the complete and utter loss of one's facial expression. Still, it's nice to see his underacting hold up against Crawford's fire-breathing. Norman appears as Crawford's trusted assistant and indentured servant. She would turn up years later as Crawford's maid in "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?" receiving even worse treatment from Bette Davis. Check out Joan's cocktail party at which no other female is present! The one lady that rivals her for Wilding's affections is dealt with out of frame, but one can imagine the showdown that was had. The persona Joan presented here (and in "Queen Bee") would come back to haunt her. It was apparently what the producers of "Mommie Dearest" used as a launching pad when concocting that film and it was the subject of one of Carol Burnett's most cutting parodies during her long-running variety series. Crawford, who adored Burnett, was usually open to a joke on herself, but in this instance was quite hurt. Crawford followed this gem with the even more lurid, garish and bizarre "Johnny Guitar". Incidentally, the music used in Joan's first dance rehearsal number is "Minstrel Man" (!), which ties in bizarrely with the fact that she's later seen in blackface (or as Debbie Reynolds put it in "That's Entertainment III", "tropical makeup"!)

This may not be the greatest romantic drama with music ever made, but it does have its assets. The main one is that this is almost a one-woman show starring Joan Crawford.

The Technicolor is gorgeous, the music tuneful, choreography pleasant and as for the costumes--all that can be said is "wow!" Helen Rose outdid herself in designing Crawford's wardrobe--some two dozen costume changes that are simply stunning. Likewise, the cinematography and set decoration are lush and richly presented.

As for the script, it's all Crawford's. Never has she been as irritable, insulting, moody and yet strangely vulnerable. She lip syncs to some pleasant numbers, and does a dance with the director of this movie, Charles Walters. (When did a star ever do a number with her director?) Joan looks very attractive throughout, obviously delighted to be back at MGM after a ten-year hiatus.

It's a very campy treat for Crawford fans, to see Joan strut her stuff. Michael Wilding plays his part gracefully and Gig Young is among those on the sidelines. Generally a forgotten film, it's worth a look on a rainy afternoon.

I am sentimental about Torch Song because I can remember being an adolescent who absolutely idolized Joan in this movie. This movie presents her as a goddess for the audience to worship. Truth is, Joan was as beautiful as ever, and her gowns and jewelry are achingly glamorous. Her closeups, even at this late stage, could still rival Garbo. Crawford possessed one of the best faces in cinema history.

The best thing about Torch Song is the use of color. It is a character in itself. Soft blue is the dominant hue.

If you watch Torch Song in the right frame of mind, and prepared to appreciate instead of criticize or laugh, it is possible to come away from it as deliriously enraptured as I was the first time I saw it-- at the age of thirteen (in the '90s). Joan herself loved this movie. It represents complete escapism, but requires that essential suspension of thought. This is territory of glamour and romance, not film analysis.

From a film critic's perspective, and not necessarily a fan's perspective, it is possible to come away from this film viewing it as a dreary, poorly-produced and performed relic. It is not exceptional, technically, in any aspect. Yet, if allowed, the film will hold a spell over the viewer. But it requires a young, indiscriminate mind, able to see freshness in some things which upon closer examination are not original.

The Warner Bros. DVD, unfortunately, does not capitalize on the film's strongest asset -- color. Therefore, it is recommended that you adjust the color and tint level of your television to the highest level before viewing TORCH SONG. This will compensate for the washed out colors of the print, and return Joan's hair color to the appropriate shade of bright apricot, and her lipstick to bright red.