Frances (1982)

Though presented as a true account of the life of the actress Frances Farmer, Frances has been proved in later years to be a largely fictionalized telling of her story, more based on the actress' inaccurate biography written by William Arnold rather than historical facts. Speaking for myself, I'm not particularly bothered by the lack of historical inaccuracy as long as it is not ridiculously and blatantly obvious and most importantly does not betray the nature of the person involved (a recent exemple is The Greatest Showman, in which P.T. Barnum, by all accounts an exploiter, is turned into a champion of diversity and human rights). The problems with Frances extend past its historical innacuracy: for instance, the movie's choppy editing results in a rather uneven pace and for every visually appealing frame there is one that feels even clumsily shot. Ultimately it is neither a great biopic nor a great film, but Jessica Lange's incendiary, showstopping performance grants it an undeniably lasting power. 

The film opens with a teenage Farmer reading her essay called "God dies" in front of her classmates' shocked, enraged parents. It's the first controversial action from the actress in a life that is filled with them: in 1935, she embarks on a trip to USSR to visit the Moscow Art Theatre, sparking outrage in her own town and increasing the rumors about her having Communist sympathies; the same year, she is offered a seven-year-contract with Paramount Pictures but her stubborn refusal to play by the rules and her outspoken personality put her at odds with the producers; she then decides to pursue a career on Broadway, starring in a play called Golden Boy written by Clifford Odetes, which becomes her lover in spite of him being married: when Odetes breaks up the affair and she is replaced by a wealthier actress who can fund the production for its international run, she is forced to return to Hollywood where she is relegated to background, unchallenging roles. This marks the beginning of her downward spiral into depression, acoholism and amphetamine addiction, leading to various nervous breakdowns and hospitalizations, during which she is stripped of her civil rights, with her domineering mother (Kim Stanley) being appointed as  her legal guardian, and becomes the subject of brutal abuses in the hands of doctors and orderlies until her eventual release in 1950. The events described in the movie are, on broad terms, true, even though, as I mentioned earlier, screenwriters added a lot of elements with the purpose of sensationalisation (for example, it is unlikely that Farmer was actually lobotomized as it is shown in the film). The film intertwines Farmer's real life events with her romance with a left-wing journalist named Harry York, an entirely fictional character that would have been useless and preposterous if it weren't for Sam Shepard's warm, tender performance and his splendid chemistry with Lange. 

Frances is a film that has its heart in the right place and a heartfelt tribute to a woman destroyed by a society she refused to oblige to. But it's also a film that, in spite of its best intentions, always feels more interesting for its story in general than for its execution and depiction of the story. The movie's flow feels fragmentary and disjointed, certain parts feel somewhat rushed and others excessively diluted. Graeme Clifford's direction is perfectly respectable but there's nothing in his work that feels truly personal and original - it's a fine work but it does not feel like he has a full grip on the story and its tone, which is granted more by Lange's performance and John Barry's melancholic score than him. There are some inspired scenes - a montage that intertwines Farmer's interview with the doctors with glimpses of her life at the hospital is especially brilliant - but they are isolated moments throughout the film. In terms of writing, Frances' criticsm on the strict, oppressive Hollywod system as well as the hypocrisy and moralism of the American society of the time does register, but it has been done in more inventive, sharper ways both before and after. The portrayal of the complicated relationship between Farmer and her mother Lillian is more interesting script-wise and it grants Lillian a surprising complexity: she is a woman who doesn't mind her daughter being controversial (she whole-heartedly supports her essay even though everyone else perceives it as outrageous) but only as long as it does not contrast with her own views. There's also a surprisingly well-realized arc to the character, as she grows more and more enamored with Hollywood glamour and becomes progressively more indifferent to her daughter's needs as opposed to her own. Unfortunately, the impact of this performance is undercut by Kim Stanley's overly mannered performance that would have been a tour-de-force on stage but that feels excessively shrill on screen.

What ultimately makes the movie work is Jessica Lange's portrayal of an incredibly challenging role that requires her to run the gamut of emotions from A to Z - and she gives one of the greatest performances of all time. Lange is an actress I've always admired because she is an actress that always wear her hearts on her sleeves in her performances, even at the expense of being technically imperfect. There's a raw, visceral quality to her acting that makes her an intensely compelling performer and this has never been truer than in Frances. She has to portray Farmer over the course of about thirty years and she is utterly convincing every single step of the way. She's brilliant in the beginning at portraying Farmer's youthful idealism, her compassion towards people and her artistic integrity, with a defiant loyalty to her principles that makes her an inspiring figure in spite of her flaws. Throughout the story, she is absolutely devastating in her depiction of Farmer's downfall and she conveys all the facets of this complicated, layered person: she can be darkly funny, such as when Farmer provocatively tells her "profession" to a police officer or when she fiercely antagonizes and teases her doctor; she can be delicately, subtly touching, such as when she runs away with Harry and then comes back to her mother with a weary, tired look on her face; and she can be almost unbearably harrowing, such as in her scenes at the psychiatric facility. There's a feral, animalistic edge to her performance that is perfectly fitting to the character, a woman who fights to be true to herself even though the whole world is against her. She gives such a vivid representation of Farmer's tragic journey that by the end of the film you are almost exhausted: and in the final scene, Lange's subtle portrayal of aching defeat achieves a haunting, everlasting power. Frances is a film that does not have a lot going on besides its leading performance, but what an amazing performance it is.

65/100