Boardwalk, Beach, and Sea
The King of Marvin Gardens (1972)
directed by Bob Rafelson
rating: 4 out of 5 cravats
on DVD from Carnegie Library
In some ways these independent 1970s productions are completely predictable. "Oh, an Atlantic City low-life dreams of an island paradise? Let me guess, the dream doesn't come true." But The King of Marvin Gardens is so self-assured, so confident, that I was taken aback by its riches. Each scene is a revelation, a minor and beautiful thing, settling softly on the others like fresh snow.
I'll begin with Julia Anne Robinson, who died in an apartment fire two years later and never appeared in another film. There's a moment alone with Jack Nicholson when she apologizes for his brother's behavior but lets him know that she's as caught up in it as the rest of them. To forgive her would imply she'd made a mistake, so Nicholson does not condescend to do so. They just look at each other and smile. Later, on the dark stage where she tap-dances while David emcees, he shares the life, warm and full, in his brother's unsatisfactory arrangement.
It's too obvious to be in love with the actress with a single role, so I'll be in love with Ellen Burstyn, too, and Bruce Dern, and the scope of his scheme. Nicholson, incredibly, is eclipsed by each of them, but I love the meeting he gets with Scatman Crothers at the back of Lewis' nightclub, a scene without intimidation or anger, frank and clear-eyed and sad. It's up to Jason to do himself in, since even Lewis likes him, in his way. David's last monologue seems redundant, since we've seen it so beautifully onscreen, but it doesn't matter, it's a lovely film.
directed by Bob Rafelson
rating: 4 out of 5 cravats
on DVD from Carnegie Library
In some ways these independent 1970s productions are completely predictable. "Oh, an Atlantic City low-life dreams of an island paradise? Let me guess, the dream doesn't come true." But The King of Marvin Gardens is so self-assured, so confident, that I was taken aback by its riches. Each scene is a revelation, a minor and beautiful thing, settling softly on the others like fresh snow.
I'll begin with Julia Anne Robinson, who died in an apartment fire two years later and never appeared in another film. There's a moment alone with Jack Nicholson when she apologizes for his brother's behavior but lets him know that she's as caught up in it as the rest of them. To forgive her would imply she'd made a mistake, so Nicholson does not condescend to do so. They just look at each other and smile. Later, on the dark stage where she tap-dances while David emcees, he shares the life, warm and full, in his brother's unsatisfactory arrangement.
It's too obvious to be in love with the actress with a single role, so I'll be in love with Ellen Burstyn, too, and Bruce Dern, and the scope of his scheme. Nicholson, incredibly, is eclipsed by each of them, but I love the meeting he gets with Scatman Crothers at the back of Lewis' nightclub, a scene without intimidation or anger, frank and clear-eyed and sad. It's up to Jason to do himself in, since even Lewis likes him, in his way. David's last monologue seems redundant, since we've seen it so beautifully onscreen, but it doesn't matter, it's a lovely film.
posted by NPK at 12:09 AM
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