Perhaps you’re choosing to honor your cat by naming her after Mae West. (And can there be a greater honor?) You can’t go with Mae. It’s too delicate.
And you can’t go with Mae West. Too hard to say when your cat is jumping on the counter.
But you have to name her for Mae West: your feline is feisty, unrepentant, the center of her universe. So you scroll IMDB for Mae’s movie character names and land on Marlo from Sextette (1978). It has a ring to it, doesn’t it? You haven’t seen the film and don’t have time for it, so you watch a clip. Mae being Mae. It tracks. You name your little palm-sized kitty, and every time she flashes those bold eyes at her prey, you know you chose well.
Then, shortly after her third birthday, you watch Sextette, and think, “What have you done?”
Seriously, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
This is the hot mess to end all hot messes. When Ringo Star gives one of the best performances in the film, you know something is terribly, terribly wrong.
Who sees Mae West act and thinks, “You know a good person to cast in her picture? Dom DeLuise”? It’s so hard to watch a madcap, hijinks story with Mae performing her signature slow delivery like she’s in a different film. Then there are sudden, unnecessary musical sequences–and not unnecessary in a fun way, but in a do-we-have-to-do-this? way. And is Tony Curtis playing a Russian? And what the hell is Alice Cooper doing in this mix? The whole film is jarring and weird and utterly wrong.
The strange thing is, the critiques are wrong too. Sure, you heard it was bad–that’s true. But you also heard some sexist junk about how could this older woman be attractive to this young man (Timothy Dalton)? (As if 70-and 80-year-old men will ever stop presenting themselves as attractive to young women.) The age difference is extreme, and thinking of Mae West’s character as a global sex object in her mid-eighties might be a stretch, but here’s the delightful surprise: she is the ONLY sexy person in the film. She’s so confident and brash that you can’t take her eyes off of her, same as ever. And she’s the only one who looks like she’d know what she was doing in that bed.
The single male character who has ANY sex appeal in the film is one of Marlo’s ex-husbands, played by George Hamilton. Hamilton is acting as a—wait for it—gangster. (Because when you think gangster, you think, Where the Boys Are.) But unlike the virginal character played by Dalton, the histrionic Russian played by Tony Curtis, or the flashy director played by Ringo Star, George Hamilton seems like he might pause his movements long enough to actually have sex, which puts him a long stretch ahead of his competitors, sex appeal wise.
Mae manages to share several very funny one liners along the way, especially in a scene full of athletes who look like the hunks in her former shows. Too bad there’s so much noise and chaos around her that you can barely absorb them.
Sure, you despised the film. You really did. And yet….There was something poetic in it all. That George Raft was in the cast. That she didn’t take herself seriously in the film. That the plot–like all of her plots–was really no plot at all. That she refused to change one iota to the last.
She just kept on being Mae. 70s film fashions? Why bother? She’s going to wear that full-length gown if she feels like it. She’s amusing and charming and delightful and so much fun. And just as sassy and unwilling to change as that cat peering at you from atop the shelf on your wall.
Its not surprising that the actress who made her mark as a partially nude Ziegfeld Follies girl would star in one of the most seductive films of the 20s.
That the great German director G. W. Pabst would find it worthwhile to draw this star from American isn’t surprising either. The heroine of his 1929 Pandora’s Box had to be sexy enough to lure everyone around her, and heedless enough to rebel against the powerful without considering consequences….and that was kind of Louise Brooks’s forte.
The Kansas-born actress would make a point of ticking people off, refusing to conform to Hollywood expectations of her—or follow the directions of her bosses. In terms of roles, she didn’t really make a big splash, with few starring roles and many bit ones. But that didn’t stop her from demanding her rights. She expected more of her parts. She asked for promotions. She wasn’t much for punctuality. Most damagingly, she refused to do retakes of The Canary Murder Case (1929) to convert it from a silent to a talkie. She DID enjoy Hollywood social life–she was a regular at William Randolph Hearst’s and Marion Davies’s San Simeon, even romancing the latter’s niece, Pepi Lederer.
Her independent spirit ensured Louise Brooks didn’t make it far in Hollywood, but it’s also why we know her name still today. We like that she was who she was, and she didn’t apologize. Louise Brooks’s authenticity comes through in everything she did, especially in her acting. Her naturalistic performances might not have impressed all viewers back in 1929, but today they make her acting accessible to modern viewers–much more so than her contemporaries who followed the day’s more stylized acting trend.
And don’t we all love her rebellious soul? That flapper haircut, the partying all night after days on the set, the love affairs with men and some women that cut short her success. (Who turns down The Public Enemy to be with a guy?) And without that rebellion, we wouldn’t have her tripping off to Germany to make Pandora’s Box or Diary of a Lost Girl with a man who turned out to be one of the most impressive German directors of his time, whose films are still powerful enough to survive on best-of lists while those silents that had far higher box office draw are forgotten.
Of course, her legacy might still have disappeared, but Louise Brooks, as it happened, wasn’t just a good actress; she was talented at telling her own stories as well. The witty book of her movie reviews/Hollywood history in later life, Lulu in Hollywood, gave her a second burst of fame–and ensured that fame would endure. For many of us, she and Clara Bow are the face of the flapper.
I found myself instantly mesmerized by her in Pandora’s Box. Not since Angelina Jolie in Mr. and Mrs. Smith and Marilyn Monroe in Niagara have I seen an actress in such full command of her sexuality.
The way Brooks moves from archness to innocence, from manipulation to fun as the character Lulu is a thrill to view. She seduces EVERYONE in Pandora’s Box. I mean, is this how you act with your lover’s son?
But the son, Alwa (Franz Lederer), is not alone. Every delivery person, businessman, and lawyer gets Lulu’s seductive treatment—most thrillingly, given the time period, Countess Anna Geschwitz (Alice Roberts), a rich lesbian friend, gets Lulu’s full-press sexy attack. Watch as Anna stares at Lulu with stark hunger….
….and dances with her in a sensual sequence….
and expresses her longing to do more at Lulu’s bedroom door….
Wow! I kept checking the date. Was this film really made in 1929? (Of course, the censors butchered it after its initial release, erasing this maybe-maybe-not consummated love affair entirely.)
I’m avoiding all but minor & very vague spoilers, so the plot summary that follows will not be precise, especially after the first acts.
The untampered-with version of the film begins with Lulu hanging out at the apartment where her lover, Dr. Ludwig Schön (Fritz Kortner), is putting her up. She’s flirting and drinking with a deliveryman/mailman when a friend arrives. Lulu calls the new arrival, Schigolch (Carl Goetz), her “patron,” but it will be unclear from later events whether he is her first john, pimp, or father. Whatever he is to her, Schigolch is clearly an unsavory type, so Lulu hides him on her balcony when Ludgwig comes home unexpectedly. Ludwig has bad news for Lulu: he has to marry a respectable girl, not her. Lulu comforts her despondent lover on her bed.
Of course, Ludwig discovers Schön on the balcony and takes off, but Lulu doesn’t seem concerned for long. Nevermind that her lover/income source has now disappeared. Schigolch has another offer for her, a chance to return to the stage. And after all, this woman will have NO issues getting a new lover. Just look at these typical reactions to a Lulu encounter:
Whether Lulu’s flirty nature is mainly a result of calculation, high spirits, or just innocent fun is always unclear. What IS clear is that she always must have everyone in her thrall. Her supposed nonchalance at Ludwig’s loss doesn’t keep her from getting him back when she gets the chance (and what a great scene it is when she does).
After she reunites with her lover, things will go horribly wrong for everyone in the story, justifying one prognosticator’s claim that Lulu is Pandora, the mythical character who unleashed society’s ills into the world. Of course, this pronouncement about her Pandora nature annoys a modern woman to no end, as it’s clear that the man who says so assumes the jealousy Lulu inspires and whatever results from it are all her fault. Forget that the men who surround her are (a) weak, (b) dark/controlling/abusive, (c) silly alcoholics, and/or (d) con men. Forget too that any man who spends five minutes with her knows that fidelity probably isn’t Lulu’s strong suit.
Of course, Lulu isn’t exactly an innocent. The way she repeatedly uses and betrays her lesbian friend is disturbing, and it doesn’t seem the result of any bigotry–just desperation and selfishness. Lulu’s lack of compassion about others’ suffering as she casually checks out magazine fashions is chilling. I like that we’re not merely asked to condemn her actions, but what we ARE to make of her isn’t entirely clear.
The production itself is sophisticated and effective, way ahead of its time. Her clothes are a joy to view. But the script is…odd. The first five acts are memorable, well-written, funny, and exciting, with clear plot development. But after the first five acts, I thought, “this is probably where the film ends.” And then another act would follow and I’d assume it was ending again, and another, and another. The story soon feels like a series of set pieces/vignettes pulled together rather than a coherent story, which is particularly evident in the last act. I guess I would have been OK with this if the story had been framed as a series of Lulu adventures, but there’s a morality play bent to it that just doesn’t work—because you can’t help but enjoy rather than judge Lulu thanks to her considerable charisma, and because you can’t really find a morality play effective without a clearer narrative arc/characterization.
For example, I think we’re meant to pity Ludgwig’s man-boy son, Alwa, for his hopeless passion for Lulu, but his actions throughout the narrative are weak, disloyal, and despicable, so I’m not sure why I’m meant to root for him. I mean, sure, he’s obsessed with Lulu, and Lulu, though she calls him her best friend, isn’t exactly empathetic toward him. But then again, she cheerfully puts up with his dour, leech-like company, and clearly could find a more congenial and ambitious companion. There has to be some strain of kindness and loyalty in Lulu to make her tolerance for him possible. (Think about the suitor she chooses over him/to help him late in the film, and you will see just how bad of company she considers Alwa.)
I also find it hard to understand why this woman, with such a magnetic personality and such great beauty, couldn’t find another well-heeled protector who would conceal her shady past AND help her support her two hangers-on. Her poverty late in the film–given her earlier adeptness with reinvention—isn’t well explained.
This film is often called a masterpiece, and in its first few acts, I think it is. After that, I’d argue that the film falls apart, though I know MANY would disagree with me.
But here’s the thing: It doesn’t matter. The first few acts have already seared into your memory. Your impression of Louise Brooks is already powerful given her electric performance and unforgettable beauty. And your admiration for Pabst’s technical proficiency and daring have already been won. What does it matter if the logic and narrative thread and even Lulu’s character are all a bit of a mystery to you in the end?
This film can be hard to track down at times, but luckily, it’s streaming on Kanopy, which is available for free to most library patrons. (Even if you don’t have a card, some temporary ones are being given during this pandemic.) You may not end up watching the whole thing, but don’t miss Acts 1-5! The court scene alone is worth the viewing.
