BY BRIAN GREENE
Tennesee Williams’s play Orpheus Descending stands out
among his works for being a flop at a time when the playwright could seem to do
no wrong. The seemingly unstoppable commercial and critical success Williams
had enjoyed for more than a decade came to a momentary halt when Orpheus
Descending tanked on Broadway in 1957. Despite the unexpected failure of the
stage production of the play, however, a few years later plans were made to
turn the story into a major motion picture, with up-and-coming director Sidney
Lumet behind the camera, and acting luminaries Marlon Brando, Anna Magnani, and
Joanne Woodward playing key roles. Williams, who’d been working on various
versions of the play for close to 20 years, was so thrilled by this development
that he signed on to co-write the screenplay.
But Williams’s beloved tale just seemed to be doomed.
Despite his reputation as a writer, and despite the high quality of the
personnel involved in the creation of the movie, 1960’s The Fugitive Kind was a
box office disaster and a feature not generally loved by film critics of the
time. Why? With Criterion Collection issuing a new, deluxe version of the film,
it’s an opportune moment to explore whether Williams’s tale just wasn’t right
for the big screen, or if moviegoers and critical experts got things wrong in
assessing The Fugitive Kind’s merits.
Like Williams’s play, the movie is set in America’s deep
South, and largely in a dry goods store. Also like Orpheus Descending, The
Fugitive Kind revolves around three social outsiders and how they relate to the
rank and file locals, as well as to one another. Brando is Valentine “Valâ€
Xavier, a snakeskin jacket-wearing, guitar-slinging drifter who winds up in the
town by chance. Val has just turned 30 and he’s a good looking, sullen man who
is irresistible to women, oftentimes to his own dismay, and who just always
seems to find trouble for himself. Val has grown tired of the nightclubbing,
stud for hire lifestyle he’s been leading since he was a teenager and is
looking to settle down. Woodward portrays Carol Cutrere, born and bred in the
small town, and from an upper crust family, but at odds with the other
citizens, and her own kin, because of her hard-drinking, hard-living,
freewheeling and lawless lifestyle. Magnani plays Lady Torrance, whose husband
owns the dry goods and store and who is running the shop while her spouse is
laid up with a potentially fatal health problem. Lady is unhappy in her
marriage and has suicidal thoughts. Also, she’s a woman who’s deeply embittered
about the fact that the small-minded, bigoted locals burned down her late
father’s wine garden because he committed what they saw as an unforgivable sin:
he served black people at his establishment. Lady suspects certain townsfolk of
being responsible for the destruction of the wine garden and for the death of
her father, who died while fighting the fire; and her own estranged husband is among
those she believes were the culprits.
Lady hires Val to clerk at the mercantile store. She is
drawn to him emotionally and physically, and they become involved with each
other, despite the fact that Lady’s ailing, mean-spirited husband is generally
just one floor away from them, in his sick bed in the couple’s living quarters
above the shop. Carol wants Val, too, but he tells her she’s just the kind of
wild child he wants to avoid getting involved with from then on, plus she is
basically banned from showing her face in the town. All the locals keep a close
watch on Val and, not surprisingly, the men folk aren’t overly fond of the
homme fatale and the kinds of responses he tends to draw from women who
encounter him. As Val begins living at the store and spending more and more
time with Lady, as Lady makes plans to re-open a confectionery that she sees as
the rebirth of the spirit of her late father’s wine garden, as Carol continues
to show up and try to drag Val off to a life on the road with her, and as the
townsfolk watch all of this happening, a climax that we’ve seen coming and that
can’t be anything but destructive, is closing in all the time.