Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Sympathy for the Devil

Gloria Swanson had an illustrious career as a silent film star, but it's her portrayal of Norma Desmond that she's been remembered. Did you have sympathy for Norma, or did you just think she was a loon?

8 comments:

driftwood said...

I always remember that Swanson did a great performance in this movie, but when I see it again, I always think that I have underestimated her. It is very rare that I ever find something to be consistently better than I remember it to be.

The first time I saw it, I think I mostly took her for a loon. This also meant seeing her as a passive product of her madness instead of as an active agent. On this reading, all the significant choices, events, and changes happen to Joe. But I’ve since taken her to be less mad, more active, and almost, but never quite, sympathetic. Joe might think that he has set up a scam that will give him a free lunch for a couple of weeks, but Norma reads his weaknesses and desires well and calculates carefully how to pull him in.

She is mad and can no longer live in the contemporary world, but at the start of the film, the only person she could kill would perhaps be herself although she had already failed at that. So while Norma clearly was not good for Joe, Joe was not good for Norma either. Her crystal fantasy world could not survive a bull like Joe.

Anonymous said...

Both. I liked the early reference to Miss Havisham from "Great Expectations." Time has stood still for this woman since the end of her heyday. She clings to a life that no longer exists, unable to find anything worthwhile in the life she has. It's sad. And she's a loon.

As I watched this, I kept thinking of "Singin' in the Rain," another movie about the transition to "talkies." In that movie, the silent film actress has trouble with the transition because her voice is high-pitched and horrible. She's also vapid and narcissistic, and her eventual comeuppance is reason for celebration. She is NOT a sympathetic character in any way. Perhaps after she has vegetated in her mansion for 20 years, though...

cl said...

Agreed, Erin. The Miss Haversham reference fit the setting perfectly and told me where the story would lead.

I did feel sympathy for her character. The moment, for me, that she stopped pulling the strings (I kept expecting somebody to compare Joe to the pet chimp) was when she was play-acting her old scenes to entertain him ... the Charlie Chaplin bit and the one before. Her desperation was so hard to watch.

And she brought her misery upon herself. Joe had it right at the end of the movie: There's nothing wrong with being a 50-year-old woman; it's playing 25 that makes her so tragic and pathetic.

kc said...

Her crystal fantasy world could not survive a bull like Joe.

Well said, DW.

Nice comparison with "Singin'," Erin. Very apt.

I found Nora sympathetic, especially when she really started to take Joe in and we saw her capacity for love — and that her desire to entertain wasn't entirely vanity. I found the Charlie Chaplin scene very touching. I thought she was honestly trying to bring some joy to her friend and not, like so many performers, just indulging her egomaniacal passion to be looked at and admired. And it was about that same point that I thought there was a tiny opening for a loving person to bring her gently into the modern world and help her make peace with her place in the world. But it was a very small window of opportunity, and Joe wasn't up to the task.

george said...

I had sympathy for Norma, because really she only wanted to be loved. Isn't that what everyone wants?

What made her tragic for me was that she didn't know how to love someone else. Max, the man who stands by her, is relegated to servant, and the way she expresses her love for Joe is to buy him trinkets.

driftwood said...

Kc, I disagree with you about there being an opening for bringing her into the modern world. And this reflects on the question of Max as well. In order for Norma to emerge, she will have to face the fact that her supposedly devoted Max has been lying to her all these years. Instead of having thousands of avid fans, she has been forgotten by everybody except a handful of old Hollywood insiders. If Max honestly loved her, he would never have helped her retreat into the moldering wax museum she lives in. It is at least a decade too late for an outsider to break down this cage—she is trapped.

Extending that idea, I would also disagree with George that she only wanted to be loved. Her imprisonment has broken her down, she can now no longer aspire to be loved merely adored. What made her tragic for me was that she in some way senses that she is in over her head. It probably seemed simple enough to her to replace a pet monkey with a pet man. But by the time of that wonderful Chaplin scene, she is realizing that a man requires more upkeep than a monkey. With the exception of odd ducks like Max, people don’t really offer adoration or at least not for long. And she vaguely realizes that she has nothing to offer but her ability to perform. Her zeal to return to pictures goes beyond simple ego: being on screen again means she will be able to offer her best. The shiny trinkets were not enough to engage Joe, but maybe her grand performance will be. So what it comes to is that she has never been an adult and has no understanding of what you put into and get out of a relationship.

Max had shielded her from seeing how crippled she was. So why did he ever let Joe in the door?

kc said...

Because Max is a Goddamn idiot.

I concede your point entirely, DW. Nice work, friend. I've always admired the way you keep my hopeful romanticism in check.

driftwood said...

Oh I don’t know that you should concede that easily. Hopeful romanticism cannot all be a bad thing. But I do think you were right to look beyond her vanity.