Sirk Circus

When I was a kid I loved watching whatever movies showed up on the two stations we got on our television. Friday nights usually. Some of those flicks were musicals and I was in awe of their over-the-top merriment, heartfelt sorrow, beautiful costumes, elegant dancing. We only ever had a black and white TV, so I was watching these extravaganzas minus their Technicolour splendour. And still they were amazing to me.

But my big brother used to berate me for watching them, let alone loving them. How stupid, he declared, that people walking along a street would suddenly be singing. With full orchestration, no less. Well, yes. I knew even then that musicals required a heightened suspension of disbelief. Lots of genres do.

Which brings me to Douglas Sirk. His movies are like MGM musicals minus the songs and dancing. Sirk made lavish, sweeping melodramas, colourful and sensational. His films are glorious tellings of dramatic lives lived on the brink. They are about privileged people twisting themselves into pretzels of their own making. And they are as delicious as any pretzel you’ll find at the circus.

If I watch Sirk in a bad mood I find the potential popcorn-chomping enjoyment completely flattened and I'm just yelling at Lana Turner to stop being such a soap opera queen. If I’m in a better mood, I thoroughly enjoy seeing what Sirk is telling us amidst the overwrought emotions and fancy furniture. His flicks become a magnificent obsession for me, which happens to be the title of one of his better-known flicks.

Sirk did tackle important topics in the best way he could for his time - the 50s - which meant subversively weaving humour and wisdom into the melodrama: he goes after racism in Imitation of Life, ageism in All This and Heaven Too, alcoholism and mental illness in Written on the Wind.

The latter, released in 1956, is as American Southern Gothic Melodrama as it gets; it's also a scathing indictment of the American Dream. The storyline is based on the real-life scandal involving popular 1930s torch singer, Libby Holman, and her tobacco heir husband, who died under mysterious circumstances. Knowing this somehow makes the film more watchable.

There’s a lot of hot coffee and tempting cocktails on offer in a Sirk flick. And food is served up regularly. Just as regularly food gets abandoned for some important thinking. One such scene from Magnificent Obsession made it into my ongoing Vocal series: Ya Gonna Eat That? As I noted there and in my Letterboxd review: “...because of the upper-crustiness of the characters, so much food goes uneaten.”

And speaking of eating, you're going to see some big time chewing up of scenery. But what scenery - including costumes and props and cars and gems. Sirk knew how to bring it. His epics are wildly entertaining with lots of opportunities for star turns and dazzling jewelry. Imitation of Life, starring Lana Turner, excels in the latter category; in fact, the opening credits are showered with jewels falling from the sky (or a techie's hand). As far as star turns go, Dorothy Malone won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her work in Written On the Wind.

High style, out-sized emotions, condemnation of materialism, all wrapped up in a tasty carnival treat - what more could you ask?

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Thank you for reading!