Se Eu Soubesse Amar

Ok, I'm only kidding but it has to be, at least, one of the funniest! Joan stars as Jennie Stewart and out of control ego maniacal Broadway star attempting a comeback (hmmm, life imitating art much?) Actually, it is too easy to dismiss this as Crawford playing herself here...I choose to believe that she is not and is playing a very specific Broadway type actress (think Helen Lawson from Valley of the Dolls). Anyway, this movie is chock full of garish colors (raven haired Joan, with blood red lips and a canary colored full length dressing gown that matches her curtains is a stupendous sight), wicked, campy dialogue and the infamous blackface "musical" number, "Two Faced Woman" add up to an hilarious and entertaining movie watching experience.

What makes this tepidly received 1953 romantic melodrama with music watchable in the 21st century is primarily Joan Crawford who, by this time, was at the zenith of her screen acting powers. In the 1950s she played a succession of formidable middle-aged dames who had maintained their good looks despite years of character-building hard knocks. But at the core of all of these creatures was a tender and easily broken heart and the plots of most of Joan's 1950s films explore the way this tender heart is exposed through love.

Second in appeal is the color scheme. It was not unusual for 1950s Hollywood commercial fare to feature brilliant, even garish, colors in order to entice viewers away from the little boxes of black-and-white in their living rooms. Seen through the lens of more than half a century, these schemes look bizarre, even ridiculous, but create their own fascination. This is one of those super-saturated works that can hold the attention just to see which crazy color combination will appear in the next scene.

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.

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.

Fruity semi-musical in Technicolor starring Joan Crawford--returning to her old stomping grounds, MGM. Crawford didn't make many pictures in color, and she looks great in this, particularly in dark make-up for the Cotton Club-styled number "Two-Faced Woman" (for the capper, Crawford rips off her black wig, her flaming red hair wild underneath). The plot, taken from I.A.R. Wylie's short story "Why Should I Cry?", is pure hokum: tough-as-nails Broadway star drives everyone to the breaking point, but she meets her match in the new rehearsal pianist, a blind war veteran who has harbored a crush on the performer for many years. The scenes of Crawford's tyrannical Jenny Stewart bossing everyone around are a hoot (it resembles a song-and-dance variation on "Harriet Craig"!). Charles Walters ably directed (and also plays a dancer who, perhaps ironically, is brow-beaten by Joan), although he gets serious acting out of Crawford only once, in the film's final scene. She looks every inch the star, smoking furiously and showing lots o' leg, but her dancing barely passes muster and her vocals were dubbed. Still, not bad, with the compensation being some unintentional comedy (noticing the clock in her bedroom is an hour slow, Crawford angrily corrects the time, and then, as if ready to chew the timepiece out, she gives the clock a smirking once-over). Michael Wilding holds his own as the new man in her life, Gig Young has an obtuse role as Crawford's party pal, and Marjorie Rambeau plays Joan's mother of humble means (and received an Oscar nomination!). Some well-handled scenes, and one has to give points to the star for her courage: what other screen icon (besides Bette Davis, of course) would be so brave as to intentionally come across so steely cold? **1/2 from ****