I have not seen Ken Russell's marvelous (maybe brilliant?) "Women in Love" for several years. But I decided to give it another viewing last night when it showed up somewhere in the stratosphere of cable. Granted, the print wasn't that great but all that I remember -- Glenda Jackson's shocking and glorious performance, Larry Kramer's screenplay, that wacky score courtesy of Georges Delerue, the now famous full monty coupling-disguised-as-wrestling sequence, the drowning of the newlyweds --were still just as intriguing/startling as the first time I saw it. However, what really stood out this time was Alan Bates' performance. It really is his movie, from start to finish. Like Jackson's performance, it's more than a little bit brave; he's not entirely likeable but he's so gorgeous and complicated that you miss him every moment he's not on screen. I always thought he deserved a better film career (true, he did quite well on stage and TV) and rewatching his performance in "Women" makes me value his celluloid work even more.
No comments:
Post a Comment