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| Carroll Baker's 'Sylvia,' a puzzle who sure has a lot of pieces to her past! |
Sylvia
is a mystery woman, whose story is told in flashback, by the people in her life—all
who find her unforgettable. Is Sylvia everything she seems on the surface? A
detective is called in to investigate, by her fiancée. Then the gumshoe goes
gaga for Sylvia.
If
1965’s Sylvia seems familiar, that’s
because it borrows heavily from the famous 1944 film noir, Laura. If you threw a bit of BUtterfield
8 in the cinematic blender with Laura,
the resulting concoction would be Sylvia.
Howard Fast, who wrote the 1960 novel under the name E.V. Cunningham, seems
also influenced by Elizabeth Taylor’s Gloria in John O’Hara’s BUtterfield 8. Fast’s Sylvia is a raven
haired and lavender-eyed good/bad girl with a sordid past.
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| 'Sylvia's' poster sums up the stars' shortcomings: Baker is more flat than fury, and Maharis is hardly forceful. |
Over
the opening credits, jigsaw puzzle pieces of Sylvia’s face are juxtaposed with
the richly romantic title ballad by David Raksin, who composed the standard,
‘Laura.’ The problem is that Sylvia
came 20 years after Laura, and
despite some “daring” ‘60s plot points, it feels dated compared to timeless Laura.
The
hokey but highly watchable Sylvia
begins when private eye Alan “Mac” Macklin (pretty George Maharis) is summoned
in secret to the estate of millionaire Frederic Summers (puffy Peter Lawford).
The sinister Summers rolls out his request Mission
Impossible-style, complete with home movies, photos, and documents. He
wants a major background check on his bride-to-be, Sylvia West (platinum pretty
Carroll Baker). The groom has found out that West, a poet and heirloom rose
gardener, was not an orphan raised by wealthy relatives in England. Since the
1965 prospective groom can’t just Google or stalk Sylvia on social media, he
needs Mac to track down her back story.
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| Maharis' private eye accepts a mission from Peter Lawford's millionaire, here in his cardigan sweater period. |
Mac
accepts this mission, and with the help of a handwriting expert and a pompous
poet, the detective discovers that Sylvia was not from England, but plain old
Pittsburgh. Mac follows leads, from person to person, in the tragic trajectory
of Sylvia’s sordid life—starting with Sylvia West once was Sylvia Karoki, from
an immigrant slum family. What makes the series of vignettes so watchable is
the stellar veteran cast, ranging from over the top to touching, all giving their
best shot in their limited screen time.
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| Viveca Lindfors gives the best performance in 'Sylvia,' subtle as the librarian who first knew the title character. |
First
up, is Viveca Lindfors as Irma, the possibly lesbian librarian who takes a
shine to Sylvia. Lindfors gives the film’s best performance, heart touching
without hamming. Irma rhapsodizes over Sylvia’s love for learning and beauty.
In the first of endless flashbacks, Lindfors gives a lovely introduction of her
first meeting then early-teen Sylvia at the library. Lindfors lilting
recollection of Sylvia saying, “I want a book, I want a book…” is soon deflated
by Carroll Baker’s flat reading of “I wanna book.” We are treated to 34-year-old
Baker in a pinafore and a long Goldilocks wig, photographed in soft, golden
light that pinafore-loving Jennifer Jones or Ginger Rogers would pine for. In
her scenes as an early teen, Baker is mostly posed kneeling or lying down.
Later, we see her at Irma’s apartment, inquiring about a bouquet in a deadpan
voice, “Are these real?” This sums up the biggest problem with Sylvia, and that is Carroll Baker.
There’s nothing enigmatic, empathetic, endearing, etc. about Baker. Carroll’s
Sylvia comes off as charmless for most of the movie.
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| Carroll Baker as early teen 'Sylvia.' Uh huh. |
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| The first rape scene in 'Sylvia.' |
In
Gordon Douglas’ solid but by-the-numbers direction, he actually has Lindfors’
Irma ask, “Would you like me to show you where the story began?”
After
watching some nice LA and Pittsburgh location shooting, we are then shown a
patently phony soundstage slum where you half expect the Dead End Kids to drop
by. This leads to a flashback where Sylvia’s drunken stepfather (Aldo Ray) catches
her with lipstick that Irma gave her. Accusing her of taking gifts from men, to
Sylvia’s vehement denials, he responds by violently attacking and raping her.
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| My advice to any young girl is to stay away from a guy who drives a vehicle painted "Peter the Healer!" |
Young
Sylvia walks out of her tenement apartment into the night, changed forever. As
she clings to a post, what does she see? Salvation is literally just across the
street, complete with huge painted messages on their windows, run by—seriously—Peter
the Healer! Pervy Peter promptly gloms on to Sylvia and takes off with her in
his Peter Mobile, also painted with holy warnings, like “Sin No More.” Of
course, in this sleazy melodrama, it’s more like, sin some more!
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| A holy man 'Sylvia' can truly trust! Don't worry, Baker's hair becomes increasingly bigger as she claws her way up! |
Mac
finds out from Pittsburgh police that the pair ended up down in Mexico, with
Peter pimping Sylvia out in her new trade. So, Mac heads south of the border,
where he comes upon a holy man who actually helped
Sylvia. For some insane reason, the hooker feels obligated to the now-deceased
Peter and wants to give him a proper funeral. The priest, like everyone else
who comes into contact with Sylvia, is taken by her humanity, love of learning
and beauty, and vulnerability. That she’s one hot mama is only noted by the bad
characters. Once Peter is put underground, Sylvia moves on. One form of her
evolution is constantly evolving hair styles, which telegraphs her lot in life:
a shaggy waif, a lank-haired tart, a sleek slutty do, to full-glam hooker hair,
to the classy coif of a poetess. Her
last name changes almost as much: Sylvia Karoki becomes Kay, Carlyle, and West.
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| What would you rather do, read poetry naked in bed, or make sweet love with Edmund O'Brien? |
Sylvia
bids adios to Mexico, when her classy chassis catches a ride to New York with a
middle-aged travelling salesman. And who better to play him than sweaty Edmund
O’Brien? As Mac finds out, salesman Oscar Stewart was crazy about Sylvia. “I’m talking
about marriage!” he tells Mac. He remembers every detail of their time together.
He must be a masochist, because the flashbacks show him begging for crumbs of
affection, with Sylvia dishing out curt rejections. You’re supposed to believe
that the tough tart travels across the country with a man, for her “company” as
her ticket to ride, and she won’t even give him a kiss? When he declares his
adoration of her, Sylvia snaps her response, “Aww, shut up.” She’d rather read
poetry, while lounging around nearly naked. Their baleful banter reminds me of
tired waitress getting an unwanted customer at the end of her shift.
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| No, this isn't an episode of 'Bewitched.' Ann Sothern is good hearted tart Gracie, with Baker's 'Sylvia.' |
From
there, Sylvia’s saga is recalled by characters in the sex trade. Most memorable
is Ann Sothern’s Gracie, a long-time employee at a “honky tonk arcade.” Good
time girl Gracie adored Sylvia, now going straight. They end up roommates,
where we are treated to Sylvia studying French, flowers, and the finer things
in life. Gracie tries to help by hooking her up with old men with money.
Sothern’s big scene comes when she milks Maharis’ Mac for a night of pricey
drinks and dinner in exchange for the dish on Sylvia. Sothern is all dolled up
in flouncy finery, falls, and false eyelashes. Not only does Sothern’s Gracie
devour martinis and caviar, but the scenery as well. Sothern is over-the-top,
but deliberately and delightfully so. It is great watching an old pro like
Sothern put over this sentimental slop with gusto.
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| Even in 'Sylvia's' publicity stills, Ann Sothern is over the top! |
Then
it’s on to “Big Shirley,” a former hooker turned stripper who toiled with
Sylvia while hooking at “Mother’s.” Big Shirley is delightfully played by Nancy
Kovack, sporting most of her curvy figure and ALL of her comedic timing. Kovack
has but one scene, but definitely makes the most of the stripper who’s too
tall, wears glasses, and lousy with names. But memories of Sylvia jog her
memory enough to send Mac on to the next acquaintance.
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| Nancy Kovack as 'Big Shirley' displays more charisma and sex appeal in her one scene from 'Sylvia' than Carroll Baker does in the whole movie! |
Then
there’s Jane Bronson Phillips, another former hooker who “married a piggy
bank,” as Big Shirley coins it. She is played by a no-nonsense Joanne Dru. After
they are busted at Mother’s, Jane and Sylvia try to go straight, but their
pasts keep popping up. BTW, “Mother” is played by the wonderful character
actress Connie Gilchrist. Apparently her part was cut, because not only does
she just have once scene, it’s in a long shot! But you’ll recognize that voice
instantly, as the madam who’s in no mood for Sylvia’s snooty disposition. After
getting fired from their latest legit jobs, Bronson becomes forever indebted to
Sylvia when she is hit by a truck—again, don’t ask! Apparently, Sylvia and Jane
bonded in jail, and she goes back to hooking, to pay off Jane’s huge hospital
bills—what a gal. Again, Dru is another old pro who puts this schmaltz over.
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| Maharis' Mac with Joanne Dru as the hooker who made good. |
This
leads us to the final flashbacks. “The Colonial” is a swank bistro run by drag
queen/pimp Lola Diamond, who’s dolled up like a latter day Debbie Reynolds.
Diamond offers more tasty dishes than what’s on the menu. In her interview,
Lola is impressed with Sylvia’s knowledge of what order to use fine dining
silverware. Luckily, Diamond is no Professor Higgins, since when he asks Sylvia
where she hails from, Baker answers in her most bored, nasal tone, “I was born
in El PAAAH-so, by the BORRR-der.”
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| Heaven help the mister who comes between Sylvia and Lola Diamond! |
Sylvia
shows up for work to meet her first big spender, salesman Pudgey Smith, who
makes Edmund O’Brien look like Clark Gable. Sylvia’s dressed to kill, with a
hair flip that talk show gabber Virginia Graham would have killed for. Sylvia
and Lola greet Pudgey, looking like a mother-daughter act!
Soon,
Sylvia is paying down that hospital bill, when she meets her final client, classy
Bruce Stamford III. He is played by Lloyd Bochner, unctuous as always, sporting
his standard slick hair and ascot. Bruce shows bookworm Sylvia a tome with lots
of pictures of what he’d like them to try. When she refuses, Sylvia is raped
once again. This time, Sylvia turns the tables to her advantage, and is given a
bundle of hush money. Jane’s “piggybank” parlays this into a nest egg for
Sylvia, allowing her to finally give up hooking and pursue her dream of poetry
and culture. Talk about graduating from the school of hard knocks.
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| Was Lloyd Bochner born with an ascot? Forever Cecil Colby to me, here he's sicko rich guy Bruce Stamford III. |
When
Mac gathers all this convoluted info and heads back to California, he is torn:
report the facts or say there’s no story? Despite her past, Mac’s enthralled
with Sylvia, without ever having met her.
When
they finally meet—at his favorite bookstore—Mac’s truly smitten—and so is
Sylvia. The ending is really anti-climatic, but also remarkable, as Sylvia finally
gets her happy ending, but isn’t require to suffer for her past sins, as was usually
the case in old movies.
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| "Is this movie over yet?" Once 'Sylvia' and Mac meet and fall instantly in love, there's nowhere for the story to go. |
As
Mac, George Maharis is handsome, perfectly competent, and possessed a brash
charm. But like many actors who left a hit TV series to become a big movie
star, for every Clint Eastwood and Steve McQueen, there were far more Richard
Chamberlains and David Janssens. All solid
actors, but without the luck, right vehicles, or “it” factor that separated the
popular stars from bonafide superstars.
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| Carroll Baker's 'Sylvia' and her hair at the height of her call girl career! |
As
Sylvia, Carroll Baker was in her mid-30s, but still cheerleader pretty and
sporting a trim figure, and looks terrific in her tight frocks. The movie, in
typical Hollywood style, makes a point to give Sylvia’s age as nearly a decade
younger than Baker’s actual age. Though Carroll’s supposed to come off as
standoffish, there’s no underlying vulnerability that is the true Sylvia. There
are moments, but Baker doesn’t make much of them. During her Hollywood heyday,
Baker could be effective, but was undercut by her curt, petulant manner and a voice
that was more than a bit like Alice Kramden of The Honeymooners. Baker is better in the later, less dramatic
moments with Maharis, when Sylvia is a successful poet.
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| "Sylvia" is the rare mid-century movie prostitute who gets a happy ending. No suicides or car crashes for her! |
Carroll
Baker’s tenure as a Hollywood star lasted less than a decade. After she broke
through with Giant and especially the
once scandalous Baby Doll, Baker was
the sexy star who studied at the Actors Studio. What followed was more misses
than hits. Baker left WB after constantly fighting for better roles. In 1964,
Baker signed with producer Joseph E. Levine at Paramount. Levine decided to
give Carroll the big build up as a sex symbol, to replace the recently deceased
Marilyn Monroe. Since half of Hollywood was trying to do just that, this should
have been a red flag. What made it all curious was Carroll Baker had already
been kicking around Hollywood for nearly a decade, and now approaching her
mid-30s, Levine was going to make her a sex bomb? In Hollywood, young starlets
are given the sex symbol buildup, and once established, aim for respectability
with serious roles. Baker was going backward! Carroll was getting the sex bomb
reboot when most of her contemporaries were starting to downsize or depart
showbiz. Where was all of this supposed to lead? And Carroll Baker just didn’t
have the resume of an Audrey Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, or Shirley MacLaine as
a bargaining chip.
With
1964’s The Carpetbaggers, Baker was
her last big hit that also got wretched reviews. And 1965 was her last year in
Hollywood, with four dud movies: Harlow,
Sylvia, Mister Moses, and The
Greatest Story Ever Told. Baker bailed from Hollywood, fighting Levine in a
lawsuit to exit her contract. Carroll Baker then worked steadily in Europe and
later came back to Hollywood as a respected character actress.
The
preposterous plot of Sylvia can
either enthrall or gall you, but the stellar supporting cast more than makes up
for the shortcomings of the movie’s two stars. Sylvia is Hollywood hokum at its worst, but a guilty pleasure of
the highest order.
As of 3/28/19, there is a great copy of Sylvia here: https://ok.ru/video/572813019792
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| The pieces may not fit, logic-wise, in 'Sylvia,' but it's still fun to watch George Maharis put them together. |
