the circle and the line
by Douglas Messerli
S. N. Berman and Sonya Levien (screenplay),
Frank Borzage (director) Liliom /
1930
Although I loved much of this work, I could not swallow the corny conceit of Carousel’s first scenes. Although I had
been raised fairly religiously, with regular attendance of church Sunday
school, I couldn’t imagine a heaven like the one in which Billy Bigelow begins
the film, polishing up plastic stars. And why, I later wondered, was he even
allowed into heaven given the fact that, despite his deep love for Julie and
his family, he had attempted a robbery, being killed in the process (little did
I know that in the original he had committed suicide).
Reading of the great Broadway revival this year, how I wished I might
travel to New York to see it, but recognizing that it was probably impossible,
I was, nonetheless, delighted to find on Filmstruck had another this version of
this work. I quickly downloaded and watched it.
Although he continually resists the temptations of his friend, The
Buzzard (Lee Tracy), we know that it is only a matter of time when that evil
influence upon his life will insinuate itself, particularly when Liliom
discovers that his lover is now pregnant.
This version has none of the lightness and possibilities of the Rodger’s
and Hammerstein’s production with the noted songs of “If I Loved You,” the June
celebration number, and “A Real Nice Clambake,” and doesn’t even have the
ruminative imagination of Liliom’s dream of how his child might turn out. From
beginning to end, this is a very dark drama where, from the beginning, we know
that in the attempted robbery Liliom has killed himself and is banned from
heaven for 10 years, traveling via a modernistic railway to Hell, only after
the allotted time to return for his one day return to earth—a voyage which he
squanders once again by slapping his daughter’s face in anger—although she
declares she hadn’t even felt it but simply heard the whirl of the hand against
her face. Julie (Rose Hobart) assures her, as if she were asserting that abuse
was natural, that this is what love is all about. The most I could praise this
version for was that at least its hero was not busy polishing up the stars!
Yet there is still something powerful about this dour version, as if it
were a piece closer to a Carl Dreyer moral drama than the socially dismissive
work where Julie’s friend sings of her love for the mediocre Mister Snow and
wherein her stuck-up daughters later dismiss Julie’s child for her social
inferiority. If Borzage’s drama is far darker than Carousel it may be better for it.
And its insistent images of circularity, the carousel and Ferris Wheel
reinforce the fate that Julie even knows, in her deep love for such a loser,
she cannot escape. If Mr. Carpenter, a far better man than Liliom, tries again
and again to help build up a better life for her, she rejects it, demanding an
independent projection into space that may destroy her, but is, at least, of
her own making. Both she and her now-dead husband have sought their alternative
routes through a society that would have delimited those circular delights of
the carousel. If nothing else these figures are not moving in a straight line,
even if they are doomed by the repetitions of their mistakes.
Los Angeles, April 29, 2018
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (April 2018).
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