FAR FROM HEAVEN

Todd Haynes' painstakingly accurate, and fetishistically reverent ode to Douglas Sirk's 1950s melodramas is so astonishingly gorgeous, visually and artistically, that it took my breath away.

If you've read enough of my reviews, you may note that I don't toss around the word "exquisite" lightly, nor to I hand out full-pie ratings on a whim. It is so rare, in my eyes, that a film comes along that I fall in love with within the first 10 minutes. Todd Haynes' painstakingly accurate, and fetishistically reverent ode to Douglas Sirk's 1950s melodramas is so astonishingly gorgeous, visually and artistically, that it took my breath away.

But simply mimicking a beloved and respected genre or film doesn't necessarily make a good movie (think of the frame-by-frame remake of Psycho). Far From Heaven works because Haynes hired first-rate actors in the lead roles, and remembered to come up with a tale that not only strictly follows the story-telling guidelines of the original films, but is flavored with his own personal touch and emotion.

Julianne Moore plays Cathy Whitaker, the perfect 1950s suburban housewife, with a handsome and successful ad-exec husband Frank (Dennis Quaid), and two generically cute kids that crow things like, "Say, Pop, will you come to my game tomorrow?" and "Mother, will I be beautiful like you when I grow up?" These kinds of families only exist with such obscene perfection in the movies, but we all know that there are Dark Secrets and Things Left Unsaid waiting to be revealed.

One evening when her husband is "working late," Cathy decides to surprise Frank by delivering him a home-cooked meal at his office. But—*gasp!*—she finds Frank in a homosexual clinch with another man. Right here is where Haynes makes the genre his own: he shows us the things that are only hinted at in the old movies. But he doesn't do this gratuitously, or even ironically. The film looks and feels so much like a period piece that you find yourself gasping and squirming at the revelations like a nosy neighbor... even if there is nothing in the film that couldn't be a Saturday afternoon TV movie.

While Frank struggles with his urges and seeks therapy to overcome them, estranged wife Cathy finds solace in the friendship of the hunky and astonishingly kind black gardener Raymond Deagan (Dennis Haysbert). One day they go for a drive, are spotted by one of the neighborhood society women, and tongues start a-wagging in the gossip circles. It is an interesting and truthful touch that the friendship (romantic or not) between a white woman and a black man proves to be more scandalous and enraging than the husband's infidelity with other men.

Julianne Moore is one of those gorgeous and talented actresses that I've always admired, but found to be a bit... frosty (Nicole Kidman falls in the same camp for me). But she is perfect in Far From Heaven. With her impressive palate of dresses and her stylized blonde coif, she looks the part of the magazine-perfect 50s housewife. But her true self blossoms throughout the film. By the end, when her home life and society reputation has crumbled, her quiet desperation is heartbreaking.

Revolving around, and supporting Moore's great performance are Dennis Quaid (very strong as the struggling husband), Dennis Haysbert (how could anyone not fall in love with this man?), and Patricia Clarkson (as Cathy's sassy and knowing best friend). The art direction, costuming, and cinematography are characters in themselves. Cathy's hair matches Raymond's pants matches the leaves on the trees. The path of a purple scarf carried in the wind becomes symbolic. Confessions and denials are buried in shadows.

Can you tell I loved this film? I could go on, but I think you're getting the idea. Far From Heaven is not only exquisite, but it is easily one of the best films of the year.