There's a certain type of story that Vanity Fair seems to specialize in: one involving a glamorous family, a decadent socialite, a hint of incest, and a terrible crime. At the heart of the affair is a juicy scandal, but the presentation is too literate (and the participants too rich) for the tale to be consigned to a mere beach read. So, too, is Tom Kalin's Savage Grace -- his first feature film since the New Queer Cinema landmark Swoon. This tale of rich people behaving badly nails its two most important components: the twin contradictions of trashy allure and aspirational longing. But while other filmmakers might be content to stop there, Kalin imbues the sordid affair with depth, metaphor, and real feeling.
Based on the true-crime story, Savage Grace follows Barbara Baekeland (Julianne Moore), the wealthy heir to the Bakelite fortune whose relationship with son Tony was too close for comfort. When we first meet Barbara, she's a new mother who refuses to let her brand-new baby -- or her disapproving husband (Stephen Dillane) -- get in the way of her ambitious social calendar. For Barbara, there's nothing more important than being talked about, and despite her incredible wealth and glamour, there's always more status to be coveted. Though Barbara is quick to remind people she was "almost a movie star," she's still an actress, and her intercontinental persona is a role she works hard at. For her son, though, it's all he knows -- and he grows up transfixed by it.
Soon enough, Tony has become a young man, an ex-pat polyglot who, while still in thrall to his mother, is beginning to test out his incipient homosexuality. In louche Europe, such experimentation is no big deal, but for Barbara, Tony's orientation is a threat. Her husband is leaving her, her status is drooping, and her sexual self-confidence needs shoring up. When Tony writes to his father and complains, "Taking care of Mommy has become my inheritance," it's a dramatic understatement -- Mommy intends to make Tony her de facto husband, marriage bed and all. Until then, both mother and son will attempt to manipulate and conquer the other, with a fatal prize looming for the winner.
If Savage Grace sometimes recalls Almodovar -- the colors, costumes, and European locales are too decadent not to -- it has a skilled performance at its center that rescues the material from teetering too far into camp. As Barbara, Moore is a preening animal, impeccably put together but with a savage countenance lurking just below. While Barbara is at her idealized best when chirping in French or placing a phone call to royalty, there is a deeper, darker voice that occasionally slips out, flat in inflection and full of implicit menace. Tony is her most perfect creation, and while Barbara will never be at rest, her son's easy comfort with wealth provokes her even further. For Barbara, there was no taboo greater than a loss of personal standing. That this film has given her such nefarious immortality would not faze her -- in Park City, she is being talked about, and that's all that matters.
I love you.
Posted by: ben | January 20, 2008 at 03:53 AM