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Grey Gardens (The Criterion Collection) by Albert Maysles, David Maysles, Ellen Hovde, Muffie Meyer
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DVD Cover InformationActor: Brooks Hyers, Edith 'Little Edie' Bouvier Beale, Edith Bouvier Beale, Jack Helmuth, Norman Vincent Peale Director: Albert Maysles, David Maysles, Ellen Hovde, Muffie Meyer Brand: Image Entertainment DVD: Region Code 1 Audio: English (Unknown), Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono; English (Subtitled); English (Original Language), Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono Format: Closed-captioned, Color, DVD, NTSC, Special Edition, Subtitled Picture Format: 1.33:1 Running Time: 100 minutes DVD Release Date: 2001-08-14 Audience Rating: PG (Parental Guidance Suggested) Studio: Criterion
Movie Reviews of Grey Gardens (The Criterion Collection)Movie Review: Reality, checked. Summary: 5 Stars
So many of Shakespeare's greatest plays invite us to examine the richly fascinating lives of the mentally ill, that we can hardly call the Maysles exploitative or the many admirers of this work voyeurs. I think that lets a lot of us who love this film off the hook all the way around. However, no one who knows anything about schizophrenia can fail to see that Little Edie is obviously schizophrenic. At one point she actually says that she was diagnosed "schizoFREEEnic" by somebody "in the Village" but denies that this could possibly be true, and that her "dual nature" is in fact due to her zodiac sign.
Her rolling gait, the garrulous, often self-aggrandizing speech, the whispered conspiracy theories, the exaggerated facial expressions, the sudden outbursts of temper -- and so many more symptoms which are so painfully obvious to those who have lived or work closely with schizophrenic individuals, clue us in to the true nature of her relationship with her mother which goes way beyond things hinted at or openly stated in the dialogue. It becomes increasingly clear to the viewer, especially after watching The Beales of Grey Gardens, which is included in this two DVD set, that apparently Little Edie was not managing well living on her own in the city in 1952, so her mother had her return to Long Island ostensibly to care for her. Big Edie's devotion was such that I believe she was willing to appear less than capable of taking care of herself to protect Little Edie's dignity as much as she could. Neither woman was physically able or accustomed to taking care of the huge house, and as their fortune disappeared, the mansion sank into a state of appalling disrepair. The bare mattresses they sleep on are unspeakably filthy, yet Little Edie's brother continues to pay the taxes on the place without ever coming to see them. Only the most minimal provision is made for their needs, keeping them essentially in a holding pattern in the house. They can't afford to move somewhere else, and they can't afford to maintain the place. The reasons for this are only hinted at in the film by Little Edie rolling her eyes.
As is so often the case among victims of schizophrenia, LE's wit and intelligence are undiminished by her illness and only make her circumstances seem sadder still. Her outlandish get-ups -- often featuring tablecloths and towels -- fashion forward as they may have been, clearly arise from her lack of wearable clothing. Big Edie, who can barely walk and has a terrible cough, is often seen sitting around barely covered with a blanket, with apparently little or nothing on underneath, yet sitting thus, she sings in a full-throated soprano, still, with near-total recall of lyrics and snatches of poetry. The astonishing flair with which Little Edie assembles her jaunty ensembles says a great deal about the resiliency of the human spirit. Perhaps only in Shakespeare do we find a study of two utterly tragic characters as compelling as what the Maysles captured on film that year.
Because this film is such a powerful work of art, the truths which are at the core of the Beales' situation are both complex and universal. The photographs of each of the women in their youths reveal that they were both stunning beauties who had every advantage of birth, education and wealth. Big Edie was the sister of "Black Jack" Bouvier, Jacqueline Kennedy's own father, so Jackie and Little Edie were first cousins. That Jackie and Lee could have done a great deal more for them than see to it that Grey Gardens got a new roof and some other basic structural repairs (after the highly publicized "raid" by local officials) is an uncomfortable indictment of women who are considered America's royalty. Indeed, at the height of the Bouvier sisters' international jet-setting phase, their aunt and cousin were both ill, underfed, underclothed and underhoused, sleeping on filthy mattresses with no sheets. This is where the notion that this film depicts two quarrelsome free spirits living exactly as they liked and thumbing their noses to their high-society rellies breaks down. Even free spirits like clean sheets and a shower once in awhile. To be fair, I have read that Lee Radziwill did help out with the grocery bill from time to time, but the scene with Little Edie dumping a bag of catfood and a loaf of bread on the attic floor for their sickly, mangy animals to help themselves to is a parallel that is pretty hard to miss.
Despite the outrage the viewer feels on behalf of these improbably plucky and endearing heroines, the film certainly has its luminous moments which lift it far above the cliche-ridden news story it could so easily have been. On a golden September afternoon, Little Edie reels down the beach toward the surf, then suddenly dives through a wave, and waterborne, becomes as lithe and graceful a swimmer as you might imagine she was at 16, and every bit as beautiful; her years of suffering and the "mistakes" she alludes to are washed into the sea and we glimpse for a moment the woman she might have been, or actually the woman she is, but without the illness, and it is a transcendant moment of peace in the film, a blessed break from the constant hammering and bickering dialogue. Sheltered if not exactly pampered, Little Edie is youthful, coquettish, rebellious, and sometimes downright naughty as a woman can be at 56. By the standards of 1975, she was in fact a senior citizen, but watching her today (when it's said the 50s are the new 30s) strutting and dancing and flirting shamelessly with both the camera and the Maysles, she has clearly slipped past the boundaries of time, a genuinely agless spirit transcending the most depressing circumstances with a cheerful wave of her flag, optimism for her future, and a knowing wink to the camera. And for some inexplicable reason, we can't help smiling back.
This is an astonishing film which raises some very disturbing questions about human dignity and grace -- and forces us to ask ourselves some pretty disturbing questions, too. What is madness? Why are we watching this film (again?)? How can it be that we can be so disturbed, so angered, so depressed, and so uplifted all at the same time? If Shakespeare had been a filmmaker, this is the film he would have made. I think I'll go watch it again.
Summary of Grey Gardens (The Criterion Collection)Studio: Image Entertainment Release Date: 08/14/2001 Run time: 94 minutes Grey Gardens is the name of a neglected, sprawling estate gone to seed. The crumbling mansion was home to Edith Bouvier Beale, often referred to as "Big Edie," and her daughter, "Little Edie." The East Hampton, Long Island, home became the center of quite a scandal when it was revealed in 1973 that the reclusive aunt and cousin to Jackie O. were living in a state of poverty and filth. That's the background to this 1976 film portrait by cinéma vérité pioneers Albert and David Maysles, but it's only incidental to the fascinating story they discover inside the estate walls. The two Edies have lived in almost complete seclusion since the mid-1950s, ever since Big Edie's husband abandoned her and Little Edie (then a young socialite on the verge of a dancing career, or so she claims) was called home to care for her depressed mother. Twenty years later they continue to live in their memories while camped out in a single bedroom of the 28-room mansion overrun with cats (who use the floor as their litter box). Rehashing mistakes and missed chances with an accusing banter that becomes more stinging and angry as the documentary progresses, they exist in a sad codependency brings new meaning to the term dysfunctional. Disturbing and discomforting, it comes off like a freak show at times, but for all their arguments and recriminations, the Maysles reveal two women abandoned by their families who are left to cling to each other, for better or worse. --Sean Axmaker
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