Sirk’s Switcheroo in ‘There’s Always Tomorrow’ 1956

Barbara Stanwyck & Fred MacMurray, as a designer & toy maker, who are
also old flames in 1956's "There's Always Tomorrow."

Director Douglas Sirk literally flipped the script with 1956's There's Always Tomorrow. Typically, Sirk's cinema forte was slick but subversive soap operas that starred 40-sh femme film divas that faced life's adversity and society's disapproval.

"There's Always Tomorrow" may look like another Ross Hunter produced soap with
 veteran stars, but Douglas Sirk's critical take on post-war life cuts through the suds.

There's Always Tomorrow is like a male version of All That Heaven Allows, which Sirk directed the year before. Instead of a likeable but increasingly miserable female character like Jane Wyman's small town widow, this time it's Fred MacMurray as a faithful husband and father who feels trapped by his middle-class existence. Whereas Wyman's widow unwittingly creates strife with an affair with a younger man, Fred's toy creator causes suspicion among his older children when an old flame comes to town on business. In both cases, their children react with self-centeredness and self-righteousness. And in both films, the privileged, overbearing son is played by William Reynolds! In Heaven, he’s Ned; in Tomorrow, he’s Vinnie. In both roles, he’s perfect, because Reynolds’ characters behave so badly you'll want to throw something at your screen.

Like Jane Wyman in "All That Heaven Allows," director Douglas Sirk casts
another likable star, Fred MacMurray, as a character not content with their lot in life. 

While there is an attraction between both MacMurray's unhappy Cliff Groves and Norma Vale, she is more realistic, as an affair would wreck his happy family. Norma is played by Fred's frequent co-star, Barbara Stanwyck.

Cliff seems to enjoy his career, though he jumps through a lot of hoops to please his boss and clients; at home he's feeling restless. While he loves his wife and family, Cliff feels second best. There’s Always Tomorrow seems to mock the '50s sitcom-style family, where they seem insufferable at times, while Fred is suffering from a lack of attention. Wife Marion is played by lovely Joan Bennett. While I'm sure she was directed to behave this way, Joan’s Marion comes off like a posh parody of the glamorous and saintly sitcom wife of '50s TV. She’s the most chic of Stepford Wives, with pat answers for her husband’s complaints, treating him like a child, insisting he take a hot bath after a rough day, or that he not stay out in the cool night air, lest he catch cold!

Joan Bennett, cast as the perfect wife, Marion Groves, in "There's Always Tomorrow."

Vinnie is a clean cut, crew cut bully, who lords it over his sisters, snaps at his girlfriend, and takes verbal jabs at his father. Ellen, the middle sister, is played by Gigi Perreau as a typical precocious ‘50s teen, girlish with adult pretensions. The youngest daughter, Frances, seems to need all her mother's attention and is truly annoying. These actors as the Groves offspring certainly perform as Sirk directed. In the showdown scene, when the two older children confront Stanwyck's visiting ex-flame, Perreau has an outburst begging Stanwyck that's quite striking.

Gigi Perreau has an emotional moment as the daughter,
in 1956's "There's Always Tomorrow."

Of course, this is Sirk's sly criticism of post-war perfect families, as seen on television and film. In fact, the movie doesn't judge the father for considering an affair at all. By the film's finale, the family finally seems to realize the father needs a little TLC, yet Cliff still seems melancholy as he sees Norma’s plane depart in the evening sky. She is shown brushing away tears in her plane seat.

Fred MacMurray's Cliff feels re-ignited after reuniting with old flame Norma,
played by Barbara Stanwyck, in 1956's "There's Always Tomorrow."

Fred MacMurray, typically bland to me, is well-cast as the ideal film father. In less than five years, Fred would be star in the TV fave, My Three Sons, where he always looked half asleep. Here, he's not afraid to be unlikable. While Cliff is a good man, it's never definitively declared whether he has every right to be irritable at his home life, or is this a faulty perception? I took it that he sees his family situation clearly. Did he miss an opportunity to change his life for more happiness? Or was he about to make a big mistake, over a dull patch in his life? Fred has an in-depth character to play and he does so with authority. 

Barbara Stanwyck as Norma Vale in 1956's "There's Always Tomorrow."
This is one of Barbara's best middle-aged roles, as the warmly sympathetic ex-flame.

As for Barbara Stanwyck, this role in this film was a change of pace for her. Like her friend and contemporary, Joan Crawford, Stanwyck played a lot of tough cookies from mid-career onward. Unlike Joan, Barbara didn't become a caricature. The same year that Joan had one of her best roles and films with Autumn Leaves, Stanwyck had the same as Norma Vale in There's Always Tomorrow. Barbara's character is genuinely warm and charming, realistic and makes no apologies for being a career woman. She's genuinely interested in Cliff's life and is finally realistic about their attraction going any further. Like Crawford, Stanwyck was nearly 50 here. Barbara presents herself as a stylish woman, but not afraid to look her age.

And like Crawford in Autumn Leaves, Stanwyck gets a big scene in There’s Always Tomorrow to tear into! When Cliff’s children come to confront her, Stanwyck’s Norma doesn't grovel for their forgiveness, which would have been typical of the era. Instead, the would-be “other woman” rails at the ingrates for taking their father for granted. Barbara is quite convincing in her fury!

Barbara Stanwyck's "other woman" schools her ex-flame's kiddies on respecting
their neglected dad, in 1956's "There's Always Tomorrow."

There are a number of scenes where Douglas Sirk creates mood and emotion with camera set ups, symbolism, and more. The one that stunned me was when Norma visits Cliff at work, breaking off the possibility of an affair. When she leaves, his latest creation, Rex the Robot is bumped and starts mechanically walking, right off the screen!

"There's Always Tomorrow" benefits greatly from having two of the golden era's
 most naturalistic stars, Fred MacMurray & Barbara Stanwyck, as the mature leads.

Maybe the reason this film is lesser known is because it was not one of Sirk's splashy Technicolor ‘50s extravaganzas. Why wasn't it filmed in color—because it wasn't about wealthy folks, wearing a parade of Jean Louis costumes? Was it because there wasn't a photogenic young co-star, like Rock Hudson? Whatever the case, There’s Always Tomorrow is a beautifully drawn black and white film, instead of a vivid movie oil painting, directed by Douglas Sirk. Like Sirk's other work, there are some forward thinking observations about mid-century American life.

William Reynolds, who so ably played the surly son in both
"There's Always Tomorrow" AND "All That Heaven Allows."

Here’s my look at one of Sirk’s best, All That Heaven Allows, with Jane Wyman & Rock Hudson:

https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2020/10/all-that-heaven-allows-1955.html

‘All That Heaven Allows’ 1955

 

Romance alternates between dreamy & nightmarish for Rock Hudson & Jane Wyman.

Magnificent Obsession made Rock Hudson a star in 1954; Giant then turned Hudson into a superstar in ‘56. All That Heaven Allows came in between, and shows Rock at his most natural. He's warm, straightforward, and his speaking voice—on which he worked hard—is soft, yet masculine, and deeply soothing.

Rock Hudson's memorable first close-up as Ron Kirby.

Ron Kirby is one of the most interesting characters that Rock Hudson ever played. His gardener turned tree farmer marches to his own drummer and doesn’t care what others think. These characteristics are not heavy-handed, just who Ron is. What a shame life couldn’t have imitated art for Rock Hudson, who was stifled by the Hollywood closet.

Rock's landscaper Ron dreams of living off the grid as a tree farmer.

With a career goal of more than the local gardener, Rock's Ron dreams of agricultural college and nurturing a tree farm. One of his last landscaping customers is Cary Scott, played by Jane Wyman. She's a well-to-do widow and pillar of the picturesque community. She’s older than Ron, as well as above his socio-economic station in life. (Wyman was actually just eight years older than Hudson.) The news of the characters’ ensuing romance runs rampant among Cary’s circle, fanned by so-called friend Mona, the malicious gossip of the group.

Jane Wyman is touching, yet restrained as Cary, a lonely widow who finds love.

I always liked Jane Wyman as an actress. Her kewpie doll looks (the snub nose, apple cheeks, and Bambi eyes) were always an intriguing contradiction to her direct acting style. I thought Jane was a bit undervalued as an actress because she didn't overact. In that respect, she reminded me a bit of Barbara Stanwyck, who was also no-nonsense in the dramatic department. But with Jane's cherub face, she usually played the wide-eyed heroine, not the gun toting villains that flinty-faced Stanwyck so often played.

Wyman's conventional matron reads up on what is essentially Ron's life philosophy.

In Heaven especially, Jane wore simple makeup, coloring within the lines, unlike other divas. Her clothes, by Bill Thomas, were chic and fit Cary’s character. Wyman never went caricature, perhaps that's why she's not as well-remembered as some of the legends. Nearly 40, Jane cuts a fine figure in a cocktail dress, still possesses an expressive, pretty face, all without bothering to try to convince audiences or herself that she's still 25.

Ron & Cary run into one another at Christmas time, after calling off their marriage. 

Wyman and Hudson have a warm, subtle rapport and both play well to the soft-spoken, gentle side of their personas. Though Magnificent Obsession is an awesome wallow, there's far more genuine romantic and social angst here in All That Heaven Allows. 

The cast is tops. Agnes Moorehead gets to play a sympathetic role as Cary’s best friend, Sara. While she’s strong-minded, Moorehead isn’t waspish, as she often was cast in later years. And Agnes, who could have easily have played vicious Mona, gets to play Cary’s one true blue friend Cary, and comes across as a complex and real. 

Agnes Moorehead is spot on as Sara, Cary's best friend who senses something's up.

William Reynolds and Gloria Talbott are perfectly obnoxious as Cary’s self-centered children. Hayden Rorke sports old-age makeup once again as the plain-spoken family doctor who tells the widow that her headaches are caused by what other people think! Virginia Grey, a favorite of Heaven producer Ross Hunter, is most appealing as Alida, from Ron’s cadre of free-spirited friends. And a special shout out to Jacqueline de Wit as Mona, the town troublemaker. She is so good, you just want to give her a swift kick in the ass!

Malicious Mona, played by Jacqueline deWit, is right in the middle of starting trouble!

Then-small studio Universal was great at creating lush production values on a modest budget. Russell Metty’s cinematography is superb, especially with the lighting. The big emotional scenes are so suffused with light that they look like dream sequences. The mix of sets, the studio back lot, and miniatures, all expertly suggest a cozy small town where life is seemingly carefree. Frank Skinner’s sound track, with inspiration from from Franz Liszt, is lovely and complements the visuals perfectly. 

Wyman's serene small town matron feels like something's missing from her life.
Hint: The Chinese Elm clippings were cut by the dreamy gardener!

Douglas Sirk’s modus operandi in a nutshell: smooth surface soap opera with an underlying subversive point of view. There were very few mainstream films questioning the post-war America way of life. Beneath this ‘50s version of a country club Lady Chatterley and her gardener with a Woody, is a woman who attempts to step out of her role in society, and a man who marches to his own beat, and the wrath they incur when they attempt to bypass convention. All this in a mid-century soap opera!

Director Douglas Sirk with the stars of "All That Heaven Allows."

The first time I watched All That Heaven Allows, I was knocked out that a mainstream '50s movie would criticize the era's bland conformity. The town gossips and selfish children are written and played as total caricatures, and Sirk enjoys skewering them. Cary’s two self-centered children, both young adults, make you wish Joan Crawford was playing Cary, so that she could give them each her trademark slap in the face. Even television takes its lumps, as Cary’s family and friends are all pestering her to buy one for companionship. She resists, but when she and Ron break up, her meddling kids console her with a TV for Christmas, with the screen reflecting Carrie's inconsolable face.

Cary's selfish brats give her a TV set as a Christmas consolation prize for breaking up her and Ron. The first time I saw this stunning scene, I wanted to throw something at MY television!

Some Douglas Sirk detractors say that he was merely a more stylish technician of cinema soaps than other studio directors. NOT true! And they totally miss what Sirk creates in his '50s films. The stylized soap is merely the surface and highly entertaining in its own right. However, nothing Douglas Sirk does is by chance or by rote. The questioning glances, such as when Agnes Moorehead's Sara takes note of Rock's Ron Kirby working in her best friend's yard. Or the scene where Cary's son Ned angrily argues with his his mother in front of a screen, that makes them look like they’re at confession. Most crucial of all, Cary's uncertainty as a woman in love again gets many subtle setups: her troubled reflection in mirrors or most touchingly, the screen of a TV set that's a sorry substitute for Ron.

One of the many strikingly lit scenes of "All That Heaven Allows."

If you don't believe me, consider the films that Ross Hunter did without Douglas Sirk: Backstreet, Portrait in Black, and especially, Madame X. They are all great fun, but with little depth or subtext. With Hunter, it’s all just suffering glamour stars. Todd Haynes tried to emulate Douglas Sirk’s stylized melodrama with subliminal social content in Far From Heaven, upping the ante by giving the unhappy heroine a BLACK gardener lover and a GAY husband! Still, this Heaven felt like an exercise in style, with little of the heartfelt style Sirk gives his lead characters in All That Heaven Allows.

Wait for my ungrateful children to call or for my outdoorsy young husband Ron to come indoors and rock my world? Tough call, Cary!

Even today, some critics and movie fans still dismiss All That Heaven Allows as a stylish but dated soap. I couldn't disagree more. This film may be my favorite of Sirk's '50s films. The message woven throughout the film is to not give in—whether to social convention, materialism, ageism, or sexism—and to thine own self be true. Heaven reminds me of Now, Voyager in its genuine uplift.

Love this movie poster for "Heaven" that looks like a juicy paperback novel cover!

All That Heaven Allows is proof that Rock Hudson could be more than a mere Hollywood heart throb. Rock was often cited as an example of the handsome hunk that was a hack. His performance in this film alone defies that stereotype. I can think of many stars, male and female, that got the big build up, and who were just glamorous mannequins. Universal's Tippi Hedren and John Gavin quickly come to mind. 

Rock & Jane flourish in Sirk's genuine romanticism of "All That Heaven Allows."

Rock was no Marlon or Monty, of course. Hudson was still more than just a pretty boy and the man had his moments during his 15 years as a top leading man. Yet, sometimes it is the stars' smaller movies, where fans can see them at their most genuine, and remind us what made them special. For me, that’s Rock Hudson as Ron Kirby in All That Heaven Allows. Rock is at his most relaxed, confident screen self, the ideal of the man Hudson might have wished to be off-screen.

Rock Hudson never forgot Jane Wyman's kindness & encouragement when he was a nervous newcomer in "Magnificent Obsession,"their first film. Thanking her, Jane told him to pass it on. Decades later, Sharon Stone landed one of her first major roles in a Hudson TV movie,
and Stone lauded his helpfulness toward her.

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Imitation of Life 1959

Lana Turner and Juanita Moore as two mothers who team up in "Imitation of Life."

To my movie fan mind, Imitation of Life is really Imitation of Lana.

The 1959 remake is a soap opera as grand opera: every emotion is emblazoned, every scene is elegant pageantry, and the leading lady is an eyeful. Lana Turner’s glamorous face and figure mightily sold Imitation of Life, but ultimately, Juanita Moore was the movie’s heart.

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Imitation of Life, once considered merely a slick soap opera, has been massively written about since its release. The movie has more facets than those diamonds in the opening credits: stylish soap opera; camp classic; early depiction of racism; tabloid take-off on Lana Turner; or director Douglas Sirk’s signature film.

Juanita Moore as Annie Johnson, the heart of 'Imitation of Life.'

The major focus on Life has been its look at racism, with reactions that range from praise for its subversiveness to scorn for its saccharine sentimentality. My take is that Imitation of Life is a product of its time. For 1959, a film about a young woman trying to pass as white was daring, especially in the guise of a soap opera. The dual storylines of Imitation of Life reminds me of that song from Mary Poppins: “Just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down!” Producer Ross Hunter cannily knew that audiences would flock to see scandalous Lana as superstar eye candy, which would make the tragic tale of a black maid and her daughter easier to swallow.

Lora's the star, Annie is still taking care of her!

Annie Johnson to Lora Meredith: “I like taking care of pretty things.”

For me, the first half of Imitation of Life is best. When the two women bond as they struggle to keep body and soul together, these are the film’s warmest moments. When Lora gamely does the flea powder commercial with the slobbering dog, it shows Lana at her most playful. The scenes with their young girls give Lana a chance to be vulnerable, and Juanita to be warmly appealing. Some have said that changing the dynamic between the two women’s characters, with the pancake business cut from the original, leaves their relationship lopsided. Why would Annie stay with Lora for so long? Why would Lora treat her any different than a maid? My thought is that Lora took them off the street when she saw Annie’s dire situation, and was grateful by how giving Annie was. The two bonded and created a home for their girls. Yes, it’s corny and dated, by today’s standards. Their relationship is like a ‘50s marriage: Lora brings home the bacon, and Annie’s keeps the home fires burning.

Lana is material girl Lora Meredith!

  

Lora Meredith: "I'm going up and up and up, and nobody's going to pull me down!"

Lana’s film career in the 1950s was basically a series of bombs, punctuated by crucial comebacks. Her last big hit was 1948’s The Three Musketeers. Turner then stayed off-screen for several years while married to tippler millionaire Bob Topping. When Lana left him, she came back to MGM, only to be stuck in a series of lackluster musicals and melodramas. Turner made her first comeback in 1952, in Vincente Minnelli’s The Bad and the Beautiful. Just as MGM rewarded their stars Liz, Ava, and Grace for movie hits by sticking them into formula flops, Metro did the same with Turner, casting her in more costume potboilers. MGM and Lana Turner parted ways in ’56. This led to comeback #2 in Peyton Place, based on a bestseller as scandalous as Lana’s own life. With her biggest hit ever, Turner turned her career around, and scored Lana her only Oscar nomination.

Lana’s biggest scandal occurred on Good Friday, 1958. The Reader’s Digest version: Turner had taken up with gangster Johnny Stompanato, and was now trying to cut him loose. Their violent quarrels climaxed one evening in the star’s pink bedroom. Lana’s 14-year-old daughter Cheryl tried to intervene. When that didn’t work, the girl returned with a butcher knife and fatally stabbed the hoodlum. What ensued was one of Hollywood’ greatest scandals and Lana feared that she’d never work again.

Steve comes back into the picture, adored by Annie, Susie, and Miss Lora!

Shutterbug Steve Archer to Lora: "My camera could easily have a love affair with you."

Enter Ross Hunter, offering comeback #3. Hunter, a producer who adored golden era glamour girls, took a chance on Turner. For a reduced fee and a large cut of potential profits instead, Lana agreed to star in a remake of Imitation of Life. The ’34 original had Claudette Colbert and Louise Beavers pairing up, to parlay the black woman’s secret pancake recipe into riches. As the ‘50s civil rights movement was under way, Hunter realized that a grinning black woman flipping pancakes would not go over big in ‘59. Audiences would also not find Lana peddling pancake syrup riveting, either. So, Lana’s Life re-cast her as an aspiring actress and Juanita Moore as the black woman who now heads up the home front with their daughters.

The opening scenes of 'Imitation of Life,' when adversity brings the mothers
and their girls together.

While the soap is super slick, the most substantial story is the struggle of the black mother and daughter. Imagine Imitation of Life without Annie and Sarah Jane. Life would be just another light weight Lana Turner soap opera. By the same token, 1950s Hollywood would hardly make a movie just about a long-suffering black maid whose daughter tries to pass for white.

Some critics crow that Douglas Sirk tricked Lana, using Turner’s star power while undercutting her storyline, to emphasize the supporting characters’ more compelling story. I think Sirk was far classier than that. Douglas Sirk’s work always depicted the comparison of what should bring his film characters happiness, but never does. In Imitation of Life, Lana’s Lora becomes a huge star, but that doesn’t help with troubles at home. With Annie and Sarah Jane, homeless in the movie’s start, now living large with Lora, but they are as miserable as ever. Sirk’s ‘50s films always questioned the post-war American dream and conformity that was part of the package.

Lana as Lora, telling a predatory agent off. In real life, it wasn't so easy to say no
in Hollywood's 'golden era.' Or now!

Agent Allen Loomis to actress Lora: “I’m in a position to do something for you.”

Lana agreed to play the errant actress in Imitation of Life, but she thought it hit a bit close to home. Indeed, stories circulated that Cheryl had a crush on Turner’s lover, Stompanato. Life’s original storyline had a triangle between the mother, her lover, and daughter. So, Hunter softened this by casting squeaky clean Sandra Dee as Susie and good guy John Gavin as photographer Steve Archer.

More damning was the lack of Lora’s parental skills. In the film, Annie essentially raises Susie, while Lora’s conquering Broadway and cozies up with the prolific playwright. In real life, Lana turned daughter Cheryl over to her mother’s care. This and a platoon of servants ran Turner’s home, while Lana reigned in Hollywood and reveled in her love life. But after the Stompanato scandal, harsh scrutiny was cast on Lana’s fitness as a parent. Yet, she faced all this down on film, along with other comparisons to her personal life.

Lana’s Lora Meredith is a post-war widow at the film’s opening, getting a late start as an actress. This is a nod to the fact that Lana was pushing 40 here. When Robert Alda—Hawkeye’s dad!—as slimy agent Allen Loomis, takes Turner on as a client, he expects more than 10 percent from Lana.

Here’s Life’s hootiest line, agent Loomis to struggling actress Lora: "If the dramatist's club wants to eat and sleep with you, you'll eat and sleep with them. If some producer with a hand as cold as a toad wants to do a painting of you in the nude—you'll accommodate him—for a very small part."

Lana as Lora tells him off and throws back his mink from whence it came. I think Joan, Lana, and Ava could attest, with a couple of drinks under their belts, that it wasn’t always so easy fighting off the wolves at MGM!

When Lora comes home from the “business date” with the slime ball agent, she tries to put on a brave face, but collapses in tears, at Annie’s knee. Annie offers to make her a glass of hot milk! Somehow, I think Lana would have requested something stronger.

Later, Lora catches a break as a model for a flea powder ad. Amazingly, this leads to an audition for a pivotal part in a Broadway play. Sounds absurd? Maybe, but Lauren Bacall was spotted in a magazine ad for the Red Cross, by director Howard Hawks’ wife. From that came To Have and to Have Not, and Humphrey Bogart, too.

Lana Turner and Sandra Dee in a rare happy moment as 'Imitation of Life's'
mother and daughter Lora and Susie.

You can tell David Edwards is a playwright because he wears a cable knit turtleneck sweater. Lora’s audition is awful, made worse by her sparring over the playwright’s lines. But guess what? He likes her spunk, unlike Mary Tyler Moore’s Lou Grant! Lora not only gets the part, but wows audiences and critics alike. From there, a dozen years fly by, in one minute of montages, as Lora accepts bouquets and ovations. Thankfully, we are spared Lana Turner’s “acting” in plays that all seem to have the word “happy” in the titles. Lora becomes the playwright’s “protégé” in exchange for an empire, New York City. Still, like every movie character who’s ever desired fame and fortune, but once they climb Mount Everest… Hum a few bars of Dionne Warwick’s Dolls’ tune. That was never a problem for Lana Turner, who enjoyed every minute of being a superstar—minus the scandals, of course. Fortunately, Annie reminds Lora that she needs show business as much as it needs her.

Trouble in paradise. Sandra Dee's Susie is not the enthusiastic bartender
that Christina Crawford was for her Mommie!

Like the real life Lana, Lora is a spend thrift who wants to give her daughter “everything I missed.” Lora doesn’t exactly miss much in the luxury department, either. Once Lora is a star, Lana is gorgeous in her Jean Louis outfits, while draped in one million dollars worth of jewels, on loan for Life. And Lora’s country home is gaw-geous, too, even with that mural passing as the picture window’s scenic view.

Lora’s latest dilemma is that she now wants to be taken seriously as a dramatic actress. In real life, Turner had to be talked into the few game changer performances she gave. You think Lana asked to play a hard drinking, floozy actress in The Bad and the Beautiful? Producer Jerry Wald wooed Turner into playing the mother of a teenager in Peyton Place, reminding Lana what it did for Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce. And Hunter the diva whisperer soothed Turner’s Life jitters. In Imitation, Lora decides it’s time to do a serious play. Her playwright lover scoffs, "It's drama. No clothes, no sex. No fun." That would have stopped Lana right in her tracks! Naturally, Lora’s a hit, and takes her bows with hair pulled back, sporting a black turtle neck, with a grey skirt—you know, the typical social worker uniform.

Lora wants to finally relax, but then that hot new Italian director, whose name sounds suspiciously like Fellini, wants her in his next film. Off to Italy, the heck with a hiatus.

"Don't you act for me!" Whoops, wrong movie!

"You've given me everything a mother could but the thing I wanted most...your love!"

Meanwhile, Annie’s raised the girls, who are now teenagers. Photographer Steve’s back in the picture, with a touch of gray in his temples. Lana as Lora looks glamorously laminated, with shellacked hair, heavy makeup in every situation, with soft lighting and artful shadows. Lana was only 38 at the time, but two decades of drinking, smoking, and tanning took their toll. Though Turner had cosmetic touch ups later, it’s a jolt seeing 40ish actresses from the golden era looking much older than the plumped up pusses of today’s actors of the same age.

Lana’s got her game face on here, all posturing star insincerity some scenes, surprisingly authentic in others. Lora offer to give up Steve for her daughter’s sake reminds me of Faye Dunaway’s cry of “I’m not acting!” when Uncle Greg leaves Mommie Dearest. Here, Dee’s Susie cries, "Oh, Mama, stop acting!"

 

Annie Johnson: “It’s a sin to be ashamed of what you are.”

I’ve never seen Shelley Winters in her best supporting actress turn in The Diary of Anne Frank. But I think Juanita Moore should have won the Oscar that year in Imitation of Life.

Near the end of the film, Annie Johnson talks about her tight-knit community, and Lora replies she never knew that she had outside friends. Annie softly, but evenly replies, “Why, Miss Lora, you never asked.” The camera goes back to Lora, a bit taken aback. Touché!

The scenes where Annie and Sara Jane are in constant conflict over the daughter’s struggle about her origins are the film’s dramatic high points. How can a viewer ever forget the scene when Annie brings her daughter’s red boots to school in a snowstorm, and the classroom is shocked to find out that she’s Sarah Jane’s mother? Or their final scene, where Annie flies across the country just to see her “baby” one more time? That scene, where Annie promises never to bother Sarah Jane again, is beautifully performed by Moore and Susan Kohner. Annie’s deathbed scene, with both Moore and Turner matching each other in emotion, is heartfelt. Juanita Moore’s character is the voice of reason and reality, as all the other characters are assuming roles or personas in their pursuit of happiness. Juanita Moore rises to the occasion to bring Annie to life.

'Imitation of Life's' infamous funeral finale...better have a box of tissues handy!

Young Sarah Jane Johnson: "Why do we always have to sleep in the back?"

Susan Kohner gives an intense portrayal as the adult Sarah Jane. She can pass for white, but if she stays home, she’s on the sidelines of mainstream white society. Kohner’s mother was Mexican actress Lupita Tovar and father was white, agent Paul Kohner. Kohner’s sultry appeal is knowing, especially when she escapes from home to find work in night clubs, as opposed to living under Turner’s antiseptic abode.

The film’s most startling scene is when Sarah Jane runs off to see her white boyfriend. Sirk stages it brilliantly: The two meet on a dark, rainy street corner. When Frankie, played by Troy Donahue, confronts her, Sarah Jane is seen in reflection on a store front window. When he asks about her mother, towering over her, Sarah Jane shrinks back. The two then share the screen. Frankie’s voice rises when he says, “Just tell me one thing. Is it true? Is your mother a _____? Tell me. Tell me!” As she screams in denial, he gives a beat down that is shocking for a ‘50s movie, especially this genre. The soundtrack goes wild, as Sarah Jane crumples onto the street, against a wall.

Susan Kohner, as Sarah Jane. Both Susan and Juanita Moore won Oscar nominations
 for their performances.

Sarah Jane Johnson: "I'm white. White! WHITE!"

Turner and Moore are backed by a strong supporting cast, but the two liabilities are John Gavin and Sandra Dee as Steve and Susie. For critics who think Rock Hudson was a wooden actor, try watching Gavin, a genuine block of wood. Hudson became a big star five years earlier in another Sirk film, Magnificent Obsession, with mature leading lady Jane Wyman.  Universal was obviously hoping the same would happen with Gavin in Lana’s Life. Rock, though not versatile, was a warm screen presence, and a huge fan of Lana’s. They would have had great screen chemistry, but Rock was now too big to appear alongside Lana. Another plus: Hudson was only four years younger than Turner, compared to Gavin’s 1l year difference.

 Imitation of Life was huge in Sandra Dee’s rise to stardom. I think Dee could be quite good. However, Dee’s persona, as dictated by Hollywood, was so dated and absurd that it makes Sandra very hard to take. Hyper, shrill, and at times, downright dippy—Sandra Dee was a cartoon of the American teenager. Sadly, she had a horrible personal life, suffered from drinking and eating disorders, and was cast aside by Hollywood when her brand of cute was out of date by the mid-60s.

A star's dilemma. Maybe a director's, too?

Lora: “Maybe I should see things as they really are… and not as I want them to be.”

I recently watched Torch Song and The Opposite Sex, two ‘50s MGM films with mature actresses. Re-watching Imitation of Life after these two was like a thunderbolt. Anyone who thinks that Douglas Sirk is overrated, watch some of these other stodgy films from the same era. The difference is obvious. Sirk had an artist’s eye, was a natural storyteller, and skilled at subtly weaving in his point of view, under the guise of a soap opera. Sirk is also sly at conveying what’s unsaid: Lora still does business with the agent who put the blatant make on her; or how Lora rationalizes her going relationship with playwright David; or Sara Jane’s forays into the “nightclub” world.

Sirk, a German who fled Nazi Europe with his Jewish wife and came to Hollywood, looked at American life with mixed feelings. He never fit in the Hollywood scene and his work was looked down upon at the time. Amazingly, after Imitation of Life, his biggest hit, Sirk left Hollywood and filmmaking, retiring to Switzerland. Douglas Sirk died in 1987, but lived long enough to enjoy a renaissance in his work, beginning in the late 1960s. Unlike most of its residents, Douglas Sirk left Hollywood on a high, and left behind a lovely legacy.

Juanita Moore, unlike Annie Johnson, lived a long happy life.
Moore died in 2014 on New Year's Day, at age 99.