Four films linked by a really depressing theme!
Scum: Our institution: a 1970s Borstal (juvenile prison). Does exactly what it says on the tin, not quite two hours of violence and contempt. The use of rules as abuse, creating impossible demands (guard throws a prisoner back into his cell, spilling the guyās mug of soup, then snaps: āDirty cell, youāre on reportā); use of prisonersā self-created hierarchies to divide and conquer. The scenes where suicidal prisoners are mocked and beaten areā¦ not exactly unrealistic. As a movie I donāt know what this does, or that you need to watch it. Its outrage is palpable, Iāll say that.
Urban Ghost Story: Our institution: a Scottish high-rise housing project. Fourteen= (maybe fifteen-?) year-old Lizzie (fierce-faced Heather Ann Foster) has survived an alcohol- and Ecstasy-fueled car crash that killed her best friend. Now strange noises are heard in the walls of her familyās apartment, and the furniture moves by itselfā¦.
This movie is a great illustration of my upcoming Doxacon talk (itās a Christian sf/fantasy convention here in DC in August, YOU SHOULD COME) about how often horror movies explore the failure of authority. Lizzieās mom canāt find anyone to believe her except a local tabloid reporterāand heās only pretending. Here, the quest for a valid epistemological authority also becomes the quest for dignity, as Lizzieās mom battles her way through a friendless world that views her as a shiftless liar who probably abuses her kids. Science and seances are both deployed to try to understand whatās going on, but Lizzie turns to religion, poring over illustrations of the Devil being cast out of Heaven.
Ghost stories are often stories about justice, & often about mercyāour two longings, neither of which usually gets fulfilled in this life. Urban Ghost Story has some truly powerful images here, and its climax is genuinely moving.
Some problems: The OD plotline is a bit standard-issue, though I realize not unrealistic. (In general the pileup of misery is really recognizableāI was reminded of one of my clients at the pregnancy center, who also found herself in a situation where a landlordās neglect cascaded into threats to take away her children. You might pray for her btw.) The bigger problem is the denouement, which is ridiculously rushed. Thatās the only real flaw in an otherwise very fine film.
The Hospital: Our institution: a New York hospital, but actually the 1970s white male psyche, yikes. Man, this movie is a mess. George C. Scott as a suicidal doctor, Diana Rigg (sporting a mottled, uneven transatlantic accentāin the ā70s! This is the filmās only charming element) as the dewy maiden who seeks to save him. He rapes herāthe dialogue calls it that, and the dialogue is rightābut itās the 1970s so of course sheās totally into it.
The other plot is that someone in the hospital is killing doctors and nurses. This is presented as if itās a satirical critique of the institutionāthey kill instead of heal, despair is the iatrogenic illness, etcāand Iād be down for that, but the thing is, spoilers I guess, the identity of the murderer means this isnāt whatās actually happening. The hospital is actually full of noble, dutiful white men! Sure they make mistakes sometimes, as do we all, but the real problem comes from outside.
Really mannered dialogue by Paddy Chayefsky. Tense camerawork, thatās the other good thing besides La Riggās accent.
Why did we ever do the ā70s, you guys? Why didnāt we just skip it?
Madchen in Uniform: Our institution: a 1910s Prussian convent school, although what order of 1910 nuns is this that donāt wear habits? Anyway, this is a classic of lesbian cinema and deservedly so. Romy Schneider is just wonderful as Manuela von Meinhardis, the orphan who discovers in her teacher a haven from the convent schoolās ferocious discipline. The scenes where she plays Romeo in the school play are just a joy: Sheās full of springtime. Lilli Palmer is great in early scenes but gets a bit too tragique as the teacher, Fraulein von Bernburg, a lady with odd motivesāthere are a few scenes where youāll wonder, What exactly are you playing at? Fraulein Robinson, are you tryingā¦.?
This is a captivating film. The trees look glorious, stark and twisting against a wintry sky. The costumes are really beautiful, several steps beyond reality. The storyline is much less Celluloid Closet than its 1958 release date might lead you to assume.
I have a lot of thoughts on the āschoolgirl/schoolboy crushā narrative in general. Itās a genre of emotion that, like all forms of same-sex desire, came under increasing suspicion in the late 19th century. The central question, I think, is: What do these crushes prepare young peopleās hearts for?
If you turned Madchenās clock back a few decades (uh, and moved it to the USA because thatās what I know better), the answer might be, āOh Lord, Manuelaās one of those girls who gets āpashes.ā Sheāll set up house with her best friend and run some kind of world-improving institution, a womenās college or a settlement house or something. Send her to Boston, we donāt want any world-improvement here.ā If you turned the clock back a few centuries it might be, āWell, her cousinās a beguine and it looks like Manuela is going the same way.ā
The classic adolescent same-sex crush can prepare a girlās or boyās heart for marriageāyou donāt have to belittle that as saying, āItās just a phase,ā as if itās a detour off the straight path to your lifeās real purpose. It can prepare one for parenthood: A woman can shower her child with the tenderness and affection she longed for in boarding school. (More on this in a moment.) It can prepare one for love of God; I think thatās part of my story. It can prepare one for an adult life lived in devoted same-sex friendship, or in a womenās or menās religious community. Sexual desire may ebb and flow in all of these paths. I know Iām making all of this sound much too sunny and simpleāthere is no vocational path on which most people escape serious suffering, confusion, feelings of failure and abandonment, and heartbreak. I just want to suggest that the adolescent same-sex crush doesnāt need to āresolveā into heterosexuality in order to prepare someone for her path in life. It doesnāt need to be the emotional equivalent of practicing kissing on a pillow.
In Madchen specifically there are some interesting, subtle hints that the filmās underlying subject is forms of authority: the woman-Hitler who runs the school vs. the maternal tenderness sought by the newly-motherless Manuela. Both the emphasis on Manuelaās motherās death and a lot of Manuelaās body language with Fraulein von Bernburg suggest to me that she is seeking a mother as much as a lover, someone to exercise loving authority over her, someone she can trust and obey and on whose shoulder she can cry. But her school seeks to make her a āmother of soldiersā: āThereās a reason the doors here are made of iron!ā