a romantic paradise
by Douglas Messerli
Armyan Bernstein and Francis Ford
Coppola (screenplay, with additional dialogue by Luana Anders), Francis Ford
Coppola (director) One from the Heart
/ 1982
In One from the Heart,
however, Coppola seemed determined from the beginning to attempt to outdo
Douglas Sirk and Nicholas Ray, to make it clear to his admirers just how deeply
his work was embedded in theatricality and melodrama. Instead of shooting on
location, the entire film, including La Vegas' McCarran Airport, was shot at
his Zoetrope studios—that is, except for the most theatrical scene of all, shot
on the back lot of a "Las Vegas junkyard" set. The lighting is pure
hokum, everything awash in stage lights throughout, while the minimal dialogue
is elucidated through the music of Tom Waits, as if the work were a homegrown
opera. Those who know my writings will immediately recognize that, while
Coppola might have disappointed American audiences (the film cost more than 26
million dollars, while netting only $636,796, bankrupting his studio), the
director gave me much of what I wanted to see.
If Hank is less imaginative and slow to catch on, with the help of his
"friend" Moe (a role well acted by Harry Dean Stanton), he goes on
his own romantic spree, picking up a circus artist, Lelia (Nastassja Kinski)
along the way, and spending at least one long night with her wandering through
the magical junkyard set I described above, where everything seems to proclaim
the possibility of romantic apotheosis.
This time, Frannie is determined to leave forever, and, apparently, is
off to Bora Bora with her new lover. Desperately, Hank—the romantic urge rising
up in him—rushes off to the airport to bring her home once more. Frannie turns
to see him as the airplane door is about to close.
Having previously pleaded:
If I could sing,
I'd sing. I can't sing, Frannie!
Hank now bleats out "You Are My
Sunshine." But it is too late.
Hank returns to their house in despair, followed shortly after by a
repentant Frannie.
As one can observe in my brief recounting of the film's
"story," there's not much there to keep one interested, and the
acting—although certainly competent—is equally vague, since the chorus of
Chrystal Gayle and Tom Waits far outweighs the lines given to the cast. As
Janet Maslin complained in her New York
Times review, "the sets are invariably more interesting than the
people who inhabit them." This is simply neither a character nor a
dramatic piece, but like much of opera, is based on the composer's skills and
the director's ability to bring out the epic wonderment of an often slender
tale.
If you think that the real Las Vegas, with the bright lights of its
architectural absurdities, would be sufficient as a theatrical backdrop,
Coppola obviously disagrees, providing a far more lurid desert town with the
kind of lit-up dizziness of Las Vegas in its early days combined with the ruins
of that one-time world. The way Coppola portrays it, Las Vegas is far more
romantic, even paradisiacal—as artificial as we know it to be—than any Tahitian
island could possibly have been.
Los Angeles, September 21, 2011
Reprinted from Reading Films: My International Cinema (2012).
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