Schirmer Encyclopedia of Film
Schirmer Encyclopedia of Film
Schirmer Encyclopedia of Film
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opera singer and movie star Mario Lanza (1921–1959)<br />
with Caruso signaled a shift in the ethnic clichés<strong>of</strong>Latinos<br />
as womanizers, exotic dancers, and gangsters; by contrast,<br />
Lanza’s life and operatic career is integrated into mainstream<br />
American culture. His body, voice, and workingclass<br />
credentials identified Lanza with the regeneration <strong>of</strong><br />
the ‘‘American dream,’’ as an exemplification <strong>of</strong> the power<br />
<strong>of</strong> ‘‘people’s capitalism’’ touted in ads <strong>of</strong> the 1950s.<br />
Concomitantly, the biopic began to portray eccentric<br />
literary figures whose scandalous heterosexual and homosexual<br />
behavior had been censored, omitted, or doctored<br />
in earlier forms <strong>of</strong> the genre (for example, in the 1946<br />
biopic <strong>of</strong> Cole Porter, Night and Day). Biopics such as<br />
The Bad Lord Byron (1948) depicted the scandalous<br />
heterosexual affairs <strong>of</strong> the writer, and by 1960, The<br />
Green Carnation (1960), a biopic about Oscar Wilde,<br />
confronted the writer’s homosexuality. Biopics about<br />
transgressive women were not new: Madame Dubarry,<br />
Queen Christina, and The Scarlet Empress, all from the<br />
1930s, had portrayed the lives <strong>of</strong> ‘‘promiscuous’’ women.<br />
But the postwar biopic was inclined to focus on the<br />
scandalous behavior <strong>of</strong> less illustrious women, signaling<br />
the fusion <strong>of</strong> the biopic with the social problem film by<br />
linking marginal behavior to problematic social conditions.<br />
Susan Hayward (1918–1975), whose star image<br />
was associated with a stormy personal life that made<br />
headlines, appeared in two biopics that capitalized on<br />
her bad-girl image and best exemplified the fusion <strong>of</strong><br />
genres. I’ll Cry Tomorrow (1955) portrayed Lillian<br />
Roth’s alcohol addiction, fall from fame, and personal<br />
recuperation. I Want to Live (1958) depicted ‘‘social<br />
misfit’’ Barbara Graham’s connections to the underworld<br />
and her arrest, trial, and execution for murder; the film’s<br />
tone is sympathetic, with scenes that portray her sexual<br />
encounters with men, her run-ins with the law, and the<br />
injustice <strong>of</strong> capital punishment. Yield to the Night (1956),<br />
another indictment <strong>of</strong> capital punishment, was a veiled<br />
story <strong>of</strong> Ruth Ellis, who was tried and executed for the<br />
murder <strong>of</strong> her lover. It featured Diana Dors (1931–<br />
1984), another female star identified with a turbulent<br />
and much publicized personal life.<br />
Biopics about deranged, promiscuous, and violent<br />
women (and about homosexuals) survived into the<br />
1980s. Dance with a Stranger (1985), another biopic<br />
about Ruth Ellis, focused on her working-class background,<br />
her struggles to survive economically with her<br />
son as a woman on her own, her exploitation by her<br />
upper-class lover David Blakely and his snobbish friends,<br />
the desperation that led her to shoot and kill Blakely, the<br />
drama <strong>of</strong> her trial, and her sentence to death by hanging.<br />
Prick Up Your Ears (1987) portrayed the unstable, and<br />
ultimately violent, homosexual relationship <strong>of</strong> the gifted<br />
playwright Joe Orton and Kenneth Halliwell, which<br />
resulted in Orton’s death. Other biopics portrayed cor-<br />
Biography<br />
ruption in high places (for example, Scandal, 1988). The<br />
tempestuous relationship between the writer T. S. Eliot<br />
with his mentally unstable first wife, Vivian, was dramatized<br />
in Tom and Viv (1994). If these biopics were a form<br />
<strong>of</strong> social history, they were indicative <strong>of</strong> the intertextual<br />
character <strong>of</strong> the biopic as it engaged with the effects <strong>of</strong><br />
contemporary politics, the ongoing struggles <strong>of</strong> the film<br />
industry in the international market, the impact <strong>of</strong> television<br />
with its endless sensational reportage, and changing<br />
discourses <strong>of</strong> sexual, national, and gendered identity.<br />
Television <strong>of</strong>fers another opportunity to experiment<br />
with biography. In addition to his 1950 film about St.<br />
Francis, Francesco guillare di deo (Francis, God’s Jester,<br />
1950), which was an antihagiographic treatment <strong>of</strong> the<br />
saint, Roberto Rossellini (1906–1977) directed for television<br />
TheRisetoPower<strong>of</strong>LouisXIV(1966), in which the<br />
king is likened to a theatrical director who transforms social<br />
life into spectacle. Ken Russell (b. 1927), a prolific director<br />
<strong>of</strong> biographical television programs and films, has also<br />
experimented with the form, in Elgar (1962), The Music<br />
Lovers (1971), Lisztomania (1975), and Valentino (1977).<br />
Hitler: A <strong>Film</strong> from Germany (Hans-Jürgen Syberberg,<br />
1977) and Marlene (Maximilian Schell, 1983) are other<br />
alternative treatments <strong>of</strong> biography on film. Using a montage<br />
<strong>of</strong> clips from films, commentaries and monologues by<br />
various personages, impersonations, fictional figures, cartoons,<br />
documentary footage, allusions to legends, pornography,<br />
and inserts <strong>of</strong> icons, Hitler is a critical investigation<br />
<strong>of</strong> the German nation and the media that created Hitler.<br />
The ostensible subject becomes a vehicle for the deconstruction<br />
<strong>of</strong> the individual ‘‘great man’’ and a depiction <strong>of</strong><br />
the legendary sources <strong>of</strong> his construction. Marlene avoids<br />
images <strong>of</strong> the dying diva, but through dubbed narration (as<br />
if she were already dead) becomes a meditation on the<br />
biopic and death, on relations between filmmaker and<br />
biographical subject, and on film as history. Similarly, the<br />
Hong Kong film Centre Stage (1991) is an index to contemporary<br />
reconstructions <strong>of</strong> the biopic in its uses <strong>of</strong><br />
Brechtian distancing, its creation <strong>of</strong> multiple viewing positions,<br />
and its investigative probing <strong>of</strong> the clichés <strong>of</strong> public<br />
fame, authenticity, and the conventional biopic’s treatment<br />
<strong>of</strong> time, narration, memory, and history.<br />
The Hollywood biopic has continued to thrive in the<br />
films <strong>of</strong> Steven Spielberg (b. 1946), Spike Lee (b. 1957),<br />
and Oliver Stone (b. 1946). Schindler’s List (1993), a<br />
blockbuster biopic and a contribution to the growing<br />
number <strong>of</strong> films (and works <strong>of</strong> critical literature) that<br />
memorialize the Holocaust, does not foreground familiar<br />
Nazis (though some are present). Rather, the biopic<br />
follows the fortunes <strong>of</strong> a benign member <strong>of</strong> the Nazi<br />
party, Oskar Schindler, a savior <strong>of</strong> many Jews whose<br />
altruism is the pretext for this elegiac treatment <strong>of</strong> the<br />
Holocaust. Malcolm X (1992) follows the familiar<br />
SCHIRMER ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FILM 165