Despite an absurd plot, ridiculous conflict, little character development and stilted acting with horrible attempts at Southern accents, Edward Dmytryk's Walk on the Wild Side (1962) can be fun to watch. It could have been a lot better.
Part of the problem in its creation was the lingering Motion Picture Production Code that had lasted from the early 1930s and would not be dropped (via the "rating system") until 1968. Walk on the Wild Side takes a few puzzle pieces from the gritty 1956 novel by Detroit-born Nelson Algren and leaves the rest out; these pieces are rearranged to fit a lame formula, focusing on Texan Dove Linkhorn's (played by Laurence Harvey) attempt to find and woo back an old flame, Hallie Gerard (Capucine), who is now working in a New Orleans French Quarter bordello compound centered around "The Doll House," the compound's bar and meeting area. That would be okay given different actors -- but these two don't work. Capucine's movements are glacial, and Harvey's Dove seems more like a naive simpleton than, say, if Clint Eastwood retroactively had gotten the role (similar to Walt "Tex" Coogan, the character he plays in Coogan's Bluff, 1968).
On the other hand, in Walk on the Wild Side Jane Fonda plays hot pepper Kitty Twist with charisma, Anne Baxter hams it up well as Teresina Vidaverri, a Mexican café owner, and Barbara Stanwyck seems delighted playing mean lesbian mama bordello owner Jo. A nice lurid touch has Jo's legless husband Schmidt (Karl Swenson) scooting himself around on some kind of low-to-the-ground homemade device, throwing punches at one point.
The whole thing comes across like a B movie version of a short Tennessee Williams play -- it reminds me a little of This Property Is Condemned (1966), come to think of it, only that one feautures a vibrant Natalie Wood in the wooden Capucine slot. Overall, nowadays the Coen brothers could make something much better out of it -- they'd probably stay truer to the novel.
Still from the opening sequence, featuring a sauntering black cat (hence the Spanish version title, La Gata Negra).
I can imagine the corniness/camp angle brought Walk on the Wild Side to Andy Warhol's attention. The Factory, it so happens, began operations the same year the movie came out, a nifty linkage that may segue into the next post.
4 comments:
There's a Mexican Restruant in the Quarter called La Gata Negra. I wonder if this is where it got it's name. They have an incredible hot spicy rabbit stew that will nearly kill you but make you enjoy it.
You may recall that Dmytryk was one of the "Hollywood 10," who ended up testifying and giving names. Many people hated him for it.
Years ago, I worked as a waiter at a popular Chicago rib joint that was in what was then a seedy neighborhood (around Ashland and Irving). There was a bar called the Gato Negro next door that catered to latino transvestites and the men who preferred their company. It was interesting to watch who went in and out.
Erik, these movie posters are like no other-especially the glam Jane Fonda one! I love my little 'cat of the night'!
Thanks all for the comments! That's interesting on the La Gata Negra/Gato Negro places in Chicago and NOLA. Jodi, she is cool in this one, and may be the lone survivor. She looked glam on the film awards show the other night fifty years later, too.
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