A strangely soothing, a sun-drenched proto-neo-noir, NIAGARA is one of my favorite Marilyn Monroe movies, up there with DON'T BOTHER TO KNOCK and THE MISFITS in its ability to capture the sociopathic allure of Monroe (this is the film with her infamous "longest walk"), and Niagara Falls makes the perfect backdrop for her dangerous sexuality; the cascading water forms a cthonic curtain that drapes around Monroe's Venus in a ceaseless embrace.
The dysfunctional death drive underpinning Monroe's allure is what's key here, with Joseph Cotten's shell-shocked sheep rancher George Loomis having ruined his life in pursuit of making Monroe's flirty bar girl, Rose, happy (via gifts and trips to night clubs--never enough). Their trip to the falls is supposed to heal their rift, but Monroe's Rose is actually luring him there to make him jealous and crazy in front of the other guests at the fall-side motel, and thus his murder will look like suicide. Joseph Cotten gets our sympathy, and when you sympathize with someone sleeping in the same cabin as Monroe, you know he must be a good actor. Some claim Cotten is "miscast" in the role. I think miscast is the whole point, as he stands in for every "human" male in the audience who is too old or too plain or too whatever, the types who long for Monroe's quivering form but know--deep down--they would never be able to keep up with her for long even if they got her. She'd leave them broke, broken-down, and broken-hearted, much the worse for having ever gotten involved, since now they could never enjoy "mere life" without her awesome sexuality in their private constellations. And yet, knowing all that, if she cast her eye their way, they'd still jump into that lethal current in a hot minute.
Contrasting this doomed tragicouple are the "protagonists" a clean-cut young couple on their belated honeymoon, played by Casey Adams and Jean Peters. Clearly, producer-writer Charles Brackett identifies more with the Loomis character and shows Adams' grinning all-American boy up for the jackass he is. Remember, this is the same Brackett who collaborated with Billy Wilder on the caustic SUNSET BOULEVARD and so many others, and it's clear that this lampooning of the bogus enthusiasm of the "gray flannel suit" salesmen type (so de rigeur on the conformist 1950s landscape) is intentional: "We're the Cutlers!" Adams announces to the owner from the seat of his convertible when they pull into the cabin grounds, as if he expects a grinning black porter to run and get his bags. This is Mr. Cutler a man for whom American capitalism is designed, he wallows in it, unashamed. For him, Monroe's wiggly walk is alluring ("get out the firehose!" he shouts when she emerges from her cabin in a knockout red dress) but he'd never dream of pursuing her; he's the type who "by the numbers" was invented for. 
Peters as the wife is allowed to be much more restrained and human, and her connection with George Loomis in his trashed hotel room (she goes to bandage his hand after he smashes a record) has a moment of genuine connection. You get the feeling that Polly is drawn to George because of what he is not, i.e. full of bluster and meaningless enthusiasm, unlike her husband; he's not patronizing or shallow. While Monroe and Adams provide good mirror images of American cliche "types" (the pneumatic femme fatale and the grinning jackass salesman) the more restrained Polly and George linger in shadow as a gloomy contrast, real characters, with sorrow and quietude in their natures, and as a result just a little lost in the sunny conformity of their era. But opposites attract, and though these muted key types might find some weird bond, nothing can come of it, which is for the best and they both know it; they are chained to their respective "phonies" like life support. 
Another plus is how quiet the film is (when George or his boss, played by the Jack Benny Show's Don Wilson aren't bellowing and guffawing). The restraint in use of music is most effective; the score only bursts to life during key moments of danger. Otherwise there is only the ambient, soothing rush of the falls continuous in the background, both comforting and eerie, exactly what a film you watch over and over on DVD in an insomniac haze should be. The quiet emptiness of the town in contrast to the mad rush of the falls creates an almost zen-garden sense of contemplation. You can imagine Siddartha ending up working as a motel manager around here, attuned to the profound mystic frequencies, yet the environment functions also both as a classic "automotive tourist trap" and a perfect backdrop for Monroe's cthonic scheming. The result is a movie as durable as a life preserver, the perfect film to keep you cool during the hot summer city months, glad to have access to the beauty of Monroe and the falls but grateful to be in the relative safety of your own little sanctum.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Summer Movie Essential: NIAGARA (1954)
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2 comments:
I was born in 1972, so it's safe to say that over the course of the last 36 years I have seen countless representations of Marilyn Monroe, almost all of them (mugs, t-shirts, etc.) divorced from their original context, thus diluting what was left of her aura down to parts per billion. But recently, because I work for Netflix, I have had to watch some of her earlier movies, movies I most likely would not have watched voluntarily, and now that I have been introduced to her for what feels like the first time, I now finally understand why she is considered THE Sex Symbol of the 20the Century. I don't think I have the vocabulary or the semiotic education to describe why it was the MM was so sublime. She was a combination of all the cardinal pleasures: sweet, beautiful, intoxicating, and willing to the let you, YOU (the viewer) be in control. Most women have some of these ingredients, but hardly any have them all in equal measure. Sadly, I have the feeling that the next great sex symbol, the one who defines the 21rst Century, is going to come from the world of pornography instead of Hollywood. Pam Anderson, Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian - they are just getting the viewing public primed for the main event. I pity the girl (and she will be a girl, most likely 19 or 20) who wakes up one day and finds the she is MM V.2. She'll be in for the most intense ride of her life, a ride that will end much sooner that MM's did. She'll make MM's life look like a fairy tale.
Isn't that legacy being constantly foisted upon every pretty actress that come along today, anyway?
It's like everyone is so desperate to see the scenario get replayed, but this time in HD. Oh yes, and our attention-span isn't too great so we keep on focusing on the 'new Marilyn' every time someone slightly totters out of some club.
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