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Overview
An award-winning auteur and a pioneer of the New Queer Cinema movement, Todd Haynes has achieved both critical acclaim and box office success with his original, intelligent, and often controversial films. Collected here are three of his most celebrated screenplays.
Far from Heaven: Winning fifty critics’ prizes and appearing on two hundred Top Ten lists, Far from Heaven was also nominated for four Academy Awards. Inspired by the films of Douglas Sirk, it tells the story of a 1950s housewife who is alienated by her neighbors when she pursues an affair with her African American gardener after learning of her husband’s homosexuality.
Safe: Haynes’s breakthrough feature was voted Best Film of the 1990s by the Village Voice Film Critics Poll. It tells the disturbing story of an affluent suburban housewife whose life is shattered by a mysterious illness. One character suggests that perhaps she is “allergic to the twentieth century.”
Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story: Told with a cast of Barbie dolls, this short film about Karen Carpenter’s battle with anorexia was named one of Entertainment Weekly’s Top 50 Cult Movies in 2003. Though the film was ordered destroyed after a lawsuit by the Carpenter estate, it remains an underground classic and “the most talked-about, least-seen film of the ’80s” (The A.V. Club).
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781555847777 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Grove/Atlantic, Inc. |
| Publication date: | 04/24/2019 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 384 |
| Sales rank: | 930,829 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Far from Heaven: Director's Statement
The fifties-era melodramas of Douglas Sirk and Max Ophuls have always astounded me. The titles alone — All That Heaven Allows, The Reckless Moment, Written on the Wind, Imitation of Life — suggest a cinema of sweeping arpeggios and transcendent artifice, which of course they deliver — in spades. But beneath their lush, teeming surfaces are claustrophobic stories of disillusionment and resignation, of women locked up in houses who emerge, in the end, as lesser human beings for all they surrender to the ways of the world. "The subjects of melodrama," writes film theorist Thomas Elsaesser, "are never up to the demands their lives make on them. Small-town notions of dignity always win out over desire."* The sheer persistence of a dramatic form so exclusively focused on domestic woe, he writes, "affirms popular culture's refusal to understand social change in any other terms than highly emotional ones." In other words, suffering is more in keeping with reality.
Lovers of melodrama — and those who write about it in film journals — are not generally interested in conventional depictions of reality; rather, in reality as a by-product of something else. Something that happens between the person in the audience and their recognition of something larger and stranger up on-screen. Some believe that melodrama's heightened gestures and wild compression trigger an emotional understanding, separate from the actual events being described, much like in dreams, where structures often prove more telling than content. But for all their intricate workings, the best melodramas provoke deep recognition and social critique while completely — and shockingly — drawing you in at an emotional level.
Creating a fifties-era melodrama today, smack in the midst of this pumped-up, adrenaline-crazed era, might seem a perplexing impulse. But it's my belief that contemporary audiences are in dire need of something to do, something to say in response to the perpetual, one-way onslaught of stimulus. To impose upon the seeming innocence of the 1950s themes as mutually volatile as race and sexuality is to reveal how volatile those subjects remain today — and how much our current climate of complacent stability has in common with that bygone era. So despite the script's allegiance to the formalities of its time, it must connect emotionally with a contemporary audience in order to succeed. In other words, once rapturously designed and polished, the film will be played straight. The subtlety of the performances will be key, as will the suppleness of the visual style and, as in all melodramas, the use of music.
Fassbinder, whose films applied melodrama to every bracket of German society, also loved Sirk. He loved the way his films showed women thinking. "I haven't noticed that with any other director. Usually the women just react, do the things women do, but here they actually think. That gives you hope." What they end up learning, though, like most of us, is that life is mostly unfair. Which is why the strongest melodramas are those without apparent villains, where characters end up hurting one another unwittingly, just by pursuing their desires. I think Fassbinder said it best when, describing two characters From Imitation of Life, he wrote: "You can understand both of them. And both are right, and no one will be able to help either of them. Unless, of course, we change the world. We all cried over the movie. Because it's so hard to change the world."
The most beautiful melodramas, like those of Sirk and Ophuls, are the ones that show how the worlds in which these characters live — and the happy endings foisted upon them — are wrong. And like all those shimmering objects crowding the screen, the answer always lies in what's missing.
CHAPTER 2Far from Heaven
Screenplay by Todd Haynes
Cast
Cathy Whitaker Frank Whitaker Raymond Deagan Eleanor Fine Sybil Dr. Bowman Mrs. Leacock Stan Fine David Whitaker Janice Whitaker Sarah Deagan Billy Hutchinson Mona Lauder Doreen Nancy Dick Dawson Esther Photographer Reginald Carter Elderly Woman Man with Mustache Spanish Bartender Red-Faced Man Farnsworth Soda Jerk Tallman Kitty Hotel Waiter Blond Boy Julianne Moore Dennis Quaid Dennis Haysbert Patricia Clarkson Viola Davis James Rebhorn Bette Henritze Michael Gaston Ryan Ward Lindsay Andretta Jordan Puryear Kyle Smith Celia Weston Barbara Garrick Olivia Birkelund Stevie Ray Dallimore Mylika Davis Jason Franklin Gregory Marlow June Squibb Laurent Giroux Alex Santoriello Matt Malloy J. B. Adams Kevin Carrigan Chance Kelly Pamela Evans Joe Holt Nicholas Joy
HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT, 1957
EXT. NEW ENGLAND VILLAGE — DAY
The bells of a Gothic church are ringing down upon a comely square near downtown Hartford. The crisp fall day is alive with color, as cornflower skies burst through the autumn reds and golds, setting off the clean brick buildings and freshly painted homes that so proudly distinguish this New England township.
Music over OPENING CREDITS.
We see a powder blue 1956 Chevrolet turn onto the main road on its way into town.
EXT. VILLAGE STREET — DAY
The Chevrolet stops in front of a small dance school just off State Street, and an attractive, red-haired woman in her mid-thirties emerges from the car, wearing sunglasses and a scarf. She says hello to a mother and a daughter exiting the school on her way inside, returning a moment later with a strawberry-haired girl in ballet clothes. CATHY WHITAKER, having collected her eight-year-old daughter JANICE from ballet class, is finally returning home from another busy day.
EXT. RESIDENTIAL STREET — LATER
Cathy's car is turning onto a well-tended, residential street, full of traditional black-shuttered, white wood homes, all set back on spacious lawns against the blaze of autumn color.
EXT. WHITAKER HOUSE — LATER
She turns into the driveway of a large, fastidiously landscaped two-story home with a slate roof and flagstone walkway. David Whitaker, a typical eleven-year-old boy with dark hair like his dad's, is circling around the front of the house on his bright red Schwinn.
David: Mother! Mother! Can I sleep over at Hutch's tonight? Mrs. Hutchison gave permission.
Cathy: (from the car) Not tonight, David. Your father and I are going out and I need you to look after your sister.
David: Aww, shucks.
Cathy: Now move your school bag, David, so Mother can park.
The Whitakers' maid SYBIL, a handsome black woman in her early thirties, is just coming down the front steps to the car.
Janice: (hopping out) Sherry Seeger says they only cost something like five or six dollars. Please, Mother, please, can I?
Cathy: (opening her door) Oh Sybil, thank heavens!
Sybil: Well I knew you were going to the grocery —
Cathy: David, please help Sybil unload the car.
David: How come Janice doesn't gotta?
Cathy: Doesn't have to. Because Janice is carrying in all her belongings and marching straight upstairs into the bath.
Janice steps out of the car loaded down with laundered clothes and packages.
Cathy: Your father and I have an engagement so I want you both to have a nice early dinner. And help Sybil.
David/Janice: (not exactly in sync) Yes, ma'am.
Cathy: Sybil, did Mr. Whitaker call while I was out?
Sybil: No, Mrs. Whitaker. Not since you've been gone.
Cathy: How do you like that guy? Big-time executive and he still can't remember a single social obligation!
Janice: So Mother, can I? Please can I get them?
Cathy: Janice, I said we'll discuss it with your father. Now hurry on inside. David, put your bike away and help Sybil with the groceries! Where's your jacket?
David: Inside.
Cathy turns to see her best friend, ELEANOR FINE, a lean, blond woman in her early forties, just turning up her drive in a shiny green Imperial.
Cathy: Well hello, stranger! Aren't I seeing you in about three hours' time?
Eleanor is stepping out of her car.
Eleanor: You are. But I just left the caterers this instant and I had to dash over.
Cathy: You have the samples?
Eleanor: You bet.
Cathy: Ooh. Come inside.
They start into the house.
Eleanor: I can only stay a second.
Cathy: You just caught me, acually — David! What did I tell you?
David: I'm getting the last bag!
Dissolve to:
INT. WHITAKER LIVING ROOM — MOMENTS LATER
Inside, Janice is practicing some ballet steps by a large stone fireplace.
Eleanor is in the midst of showing CATHY color samples for the big company party that is their annual tradition to host.
Eleanor: And imagine with the table setting I showed you. The aqua trim? Is that smart?
Cathy: Oh yes.
Eleanor: You like?
Cathy: Mmm-hmm.
Eleanor: (starting to put things away) All right. So I'll call the caterers in the morning and you confirm with Dorothy on the deposit — and honey, we're in business.
Cathy: Magnavox '57, here we come.
Eleanor: You betcha.
[Janice: Mother, look!
Cathy: Janice, I thought I told you to go start your bath! You know your father and I —
Janice: Just this one part, pleeease.
Cathy: All right, but lickety-split.
Janice performs a few steps for her mother and Eleanor as David pores over the TV guide on the couch.
Eleanor: Oh, will you look at that?
Cathy: That's lovely, darling.
Eleanor: She's getting so grown up.
David: Mother, can I stay up and watch The Californians? Please!
Cathy: Janice, honey, watch the lamp!
Janice: Ta-da!
Eleanor and Cathy applaud JANICE, who beams in delight.
Eleanor: Ohh!
Cathy: That was lovely, dear. Now hurry on up and get out of those clothes or Mother's going to be late.
Janice turns, still beaming, and dashes up the stairs.
Eleanor: I better run. I still have loads to do.
Cathy: Well I can imagine, what with Mona and her little white glove ...
Eleanor: Aren't social mores the most dreadful bore?
Mona's invited us at least three times last year so of course there wasn't a thing I could do. And Stan sees Fred at the club ...
Cathy opens the door for her.]
EXT. WHITAKER HOUSE — LATER
Eleanor starts down the front steps of the house toward her car.
Cathy: Thanks for stopping by, El.
Eleanor: I'll see you at eight!
Cathy: You know Frank. On the dot!
Cathy waves good-bye and closes the door.
Dissolve to:
* * *
INT. WHITAKER BEDROOM — EVENING
Janice is curled into an armchair in the soft glow of Cathy's vanity, watching her mother do her makeup in the mirror. Cathy is dressed for the evening in sleeveless emerald green, setting off the tangerine of her hair.
Janice: Mother?
Cathy: (doing her lipstick) Uh-huh?
Janice: When you were a little girl you looked like me, right?
Cathy: Uh-huh.
Janice: So when I grow up does that mean I'll look like you?
Cathy: Is that what you want darling, to look like me?
Janice: Yes. I hope I look exactly as pretty as you.
Cathy: What a lovely compliment coming from my perfectly lovely daughter.
She picks up her wristwatch and glances at the time.
Cathy: Seven-fifteen! Where on earth is your father?
She gets up and walks over to a dresser.
Janice: Mother?
Cathy: (searching for something) What is it, dear?
Janice: Can I try putting lipstick on me?
Cathy: (starting out the door) Not tonight, Janice.
Mother's going to be late. Sybil!
INT. FOYER — CONTINUOUS
Cathy is starting down the stairs.
Sybil: (off) Yes, Mrs. Whitaker?
Cathy: Did I leave my gloves on the hall table?
Sybil: (off) Yes, ma'am. I see them.
Cathy: You know it's nearly twenty after and Mr. Whitaker still hasn't phoned!
Sybil meets CATHY at the foot of the stairs with the gloves.
Cathy: Thank you, Sybil ... I'm at my wits' end. I eventried calling his office, though I knew there wouldn't be anyone —
The phone rings. SYBIL goes to the hall table to answer it.
Cathy: Well I certainly hope that's him now. Because if it isn't —
Sybil: Whitaker residence. (brief silence, then stiffly) Yes sir. One moment, please.
Cathy: Who is it?
Sybil: (Lowered voice) Police department.
Cathy frowns, taking the phone.
Cathy: Hello?
Officer's Voice: (through receiver) Yes. Am I speaking with a Mrs. Frank Whitaker?
Cathy: Yes.
Officer's Voice: Of 1616 Sycamore Drive?
Cathy: Yes.
Cut to:
INT. POLICE STATION BOOKING — EVENING
Officer: One moment please.
The Officer hands the phone over to Frank Whitaker, a dark-haired, big-boned man in his early forties, who has just finished wiping his ink-stained fingers with a rag.
Frank: Cathy?
Cathy's Voice: Frank! Frank, what happened? Are you all right?
Frank: I'm fine. Everything's fine. It was a big — mixup, the whole thing. But you gotta come get me. They won't — let me leave on my own.
INT. WHITAKER FOYER — EVENING
Cathy: Oh, Frank. Don't worry, darling. I'll be there as quickly as I can. (she hangs up the phone)
Sybil: Is there anything I can do, Mrs. Whitaker?
Cathy: No. Thank you, Sybil. Just keep an eye on the children. I'm sure I won't be long.
Cathy grabs her purse and coat and rushes for the door.
Dissolve to:
EXT. POLICE STATION — NIGHT
Cathy's car pulls up in front of the lamp-lit police station. She hurries out of the car, still in her evening clothes, and up the stone steps of the precinct.
INT. POLICE STATION FRONT DESK — CONTINUOUS
Cathy walks over to the Officer at the desk.
OFFICER: Can I help you, ma'am?
Cathy: Yes, I'm here to meet my husband. The name's Whitaker, Frank Whitaker.
Officer: Here we go. Room 103. If you'll follow me, ma'am.
Dissolve to:
INT. BOOKING — LATER
Cathy signs the report and hands it to the BAIL CLERK.
Bail Clerk: This is your copy, ma'am, and your receipt.
Cathy: Thank you.
Then the door opens and FRANK walks through it.
Cathy: Oh, Frank!
Cathy rushes to him and they embrace.
As they leave, two of the officers are still watching.
Cut to:
INT. CAR — NIGHT
Cathy drives while Frank broods in the passenger seat. Rear-projected streetlights send charcoal shadows across their faces.
Frank: I'll tell you one thing. If it hadn't been for that sniveling junior cop they'd have never gone through the whole charade in the first place! ... 'Stead of trying to save face. I saw the guy they were after — the "loiterer."
They wouldn't even listen to me! I tell you, I have half a mind to sue the pants off the whole precinct.
Cathy: Or ... you could simply forget the whole thing ever happened.
Frank: (takes a breath) I suppose you're right.
Brief silence.
Cathy: (a bit cautiously) So were there — drinks after work?
Frank: What do you mean?
Cathy: I thought they said something ... Intoxication level, something or other — ?
Frank: Christ! I had a lousy cocktail with Bill after work, going over the portfolio! Should I be arrested for that too?
Cathy: Of course not, darling.
Frank: The whole thing's just put me in a foul state.
Cathy: I know, dear. You just try to rest. We'll be home in no time.
Dissolve to:
INT. WHITAKER FOYER — LATER
Cathy stands in semidarkness, on the phone with ELEANOR. She finds the police report in her purse.
Cathy: He's fine ... The car's fine. Frank says it was the bumper that got hit, but you know me. I can't tell the difference ... I'm just sorry we had to miss it ... I know ...
She drops the papers into the wastebasket.
Cut to:
INT. WHITAKER BEDROOM — LATER
Frank sits in bed with an open book on his lap, staring into space. The door squeaks open and he looks over.
Cathy: She was fine. Said it was a dreadful bore, what with Mona Lauder and her gossip.
Frank: (depleted) Cathy, I'm sorry.
Cathy: (embracing him) Darling, you've nothing to be sorry for. It was all just a silly, wretched mistake!
They kiss deeply and he takes her in his arms. CATHY closes her eyes and begins caressing his shoulders and neck. But Frank stops and pulls away. She looks at him.
Frank: Feel so tired.
He turns and lies down into bed, and she caresses the side of his head with her hand.
Cathy: 'Course you do. You sleep now.
She switches off the light, pulls up his blanket, and slowly walks to the bathroom.
Cut to:
[INT. BREAKFAST ROOM — MORNING
The Whitaker clan are all seated around the breakfast room table, finishing a breakfast of bacon and eggs.
David: Pop, Hutch says if the Russians drop a bomb on us we couldn't drop one back on them. Is that true?
Frank: Well, son, I'm afraid Hutch has a point there.
David: Why, Pop? Why couldn't we?
Cathy: Drink your orange juice, David.
Janice: I already drank mine. Look, Father!
Frank: Attagirl!
David: Pop, why?
Cathy: (glancing at the clock) Would you look at the time? It's already a quarter after! You kids are going to miss your bus! Sybil, can you help me get their coats?
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Far from Heaven, Safe, Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story"
by .
Copyright © 2003 Todd Haynes.
Excerpted by permission of Grove Atlantic, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Three Screenplays: An Introduction,
Far from Heaven: Director's Statement,
Far from Heaven,
Safe,
Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story,