Professor Marston and the Wonder Women, written and directed by Angela Robinson, 1h 48min
Yes, this intriguing, surprising movie is about that “Wonder Woman,” the first comic book heroine, now a blockbuster cineplex draw. But don’t worry, no CGI, no guest appearances by Superman – this is a movie that makes you think.
Believe it or not, the Wonder Woman saga starts at Harvard, more specifically Radcliffe, where Professor William Moulton Marston (Luke Evans) is a professor in the still-suspect field of psychology. His wife, Elizabeth (Rebecca Hall), has written a doctoral thesis of her own and is frustrated that only Radcliffe, not Harvard, will confer her a degree.
Evans as Marston is too hunky to be believable as a 1930’s professor, but it does help explain why a pretty student named Olive Byrne (Bella Heathcote) is attracted to him. Olive is engaged to a very traditional Harvard student, but spends most of her free time with the Marstons.
The couple is very liberated for the day and the acerbic Elizabeth soon tells William, somewhat grudgingly, that he can sleep with Olive. Even so, she confronts the weepy student, only to find that Olive is in love with her, not William.
Their solution? A ménage à trois that would be extreme even by today’s standards and in the Thirties was beyond the pale. Inevitably, Marston is fired from his professorship, and the appalled boyfriend flees.
When Olive gets pregnant, the threesome moves to Westchester County and tries to blend in with their conservative neighborhood under the cover story that Olive’s husband died and William and Elizabeth have taken her into their home. But money is tight. Despite his degrees, William can’t find anything suitable, and Elizabeth has to get a job as a secretary.
While wandering around a sleazy part of New York City, William spots a lingerie display in a shop window and decides the scanty attire would be perfect for either of his wives. After discovering that the store is a front for a very private sex club, he returns with Elizabeth and Olive to see one of the shows.
There Olive is whisked away by the proprietor and dressed in what became the classic Wonder Woman attire: a flattering bustier, imposing bracelets, a diadem crown and a suggestive lariat, all in gold. That was the night that Wonder Woman was born. Elizabeth is intrigued by Olive’s dominatrix appeal and with that insight William envisioned his super heroine.
In a rush of creative energy, Marston sketches and writes a comic book treatment of his new creation and sells the concept to DC Comics. They are happy to publish it, ignoring hints of dominance and lesbianism in Wonder Woman’s Amazon origins.
When Marston is hauled in front of an industry review board for spreading such salacious ideas, he tells the board he’s a feminist and is empowering women. “Wonder Woman stands for truth. She is my life.” Even though he is sincere, they don’t buy it.
Evans as Marston and Heathcote as Olive are both good in their roles, but Hall is spectacular. She subtly brings Elizabeth, the most complex of the characters, to life. Elizabeth has to travel the greatest distance from striving academic, to willingly sharing her husband and herself with Olive, to finally becoming a secretary, mother and housewife. She has to be ambitious, loving, jealous, short tempered, supportive and resigned and is totally convincing in each role and mood.
What makes Marston stand out is its ability to deal with important issues, while not succumbing to easy sensationalism. Although the situation is clearly sexual, the sex scenes are modest and short.
Writer/Director Angela Robinson succeeds in making this a subtle feminist statement. She explores the unspoken aspects of dominance and submission that are, in her thinking, part of any relationship. She posits stretching the boundaries of what it means to love – must it always be within social norms or can it, should it, be allowed to bloom regardless of circumstance?
Even today people would not be comfortable with the Marstons’ arrangement with Olive . But the skill of the actors and the conviction of the script make it acceptable and legitimate to ask the question, “Why can’t you love two people at the same time?” You come away thinking that William, Elizabeth and Olive are all very brave.
Grade: A
LBJ, directed by Rob Reiner, 1 h 38min
This part of history was indelibly etched into the young psyches of our generation. Lyndon B. Johnson, the all-powerful majority leader of the U.S. Senate, loses the 1960 Democratic nomination to the young, charismatic junior Senator from Massachusetts, John F. Kennedy. After wrangling with the senator’s brother Bobby, he is nonetheless chosen as the running mate on the ticket that defeated Richard Nixon. Restless and unappreciated as vice president, Johnson ascends to the presidency after Kennedy is shot. Then he uses the collective guilt from the assassination and his own considerable political skills to pass both the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965.
And that is about all there is to the surprisingly superficial LBJ. The main characters are either stereotyped or idealized or both. JFK (Jeffrey Donovan – a pretty boy from the mediocre TV show Burn Notice) is visionary and magnanimous. Bobby (Michael Stahl-David – who he?) is gratuitously nasty. Lady Bird (an unrecognizable Jennifer Jason Leigh) is fawning and vapid.
Particularly underutilized are two great character actors: Bill Pullman as Senator Ralph Yarborough of Texas and Richard Jenkins as Senator Richard Russell, Jr. of Georgia. Pullman does little more than grimace or grin at the excesses and eventual success of LBJ. Jenkins somehow wasn't told that a southern senator of that time had a southern accent and is little more than a cardboard, racist foil for Johnson.
So that leaves Woody Harrelson as LBJ. I give Harrelson a lot of credit for how far he’s come since he played the not-so-bright bartender on Cheers. He is a reasonable facsimile of Johnson down to his prosthetic ear lobes, but there is little depth. All we see are the famous tics – an obscenity-laden, down-home humor; a penchant for conducting meetings from the toilet; the nose-to-nose arm twisting. His maudlin snuggle with the comforting Lady Bird is laughable, given LBJ’s penchant for what today would be dubbed sexual harassment.
The blame for this classic-comic version of the early 60’s falls squarely on director Rob Reiner. A famous liberal, Reiner has succeeded only in creating a polemic from the bare bones of history. Undeniably the Civil Rights and Voting Rights acts were the crowning political achievements of the second half of the 20th Century. But just saying Kennedy/Johnson good, Dixiecrats bad doesn’t tell enough of the story to be meaningful.
There are other flaws. Recreating such memorable scenes as Johnson taking the oath of office standing next to Jackie on the plane carrying Kennedy’s body back to Washington merely mimics the original photograph, too much of a tableau to be authentic. Other than LBJ’s wise-ass Texas vernacular, the dialogue is mostly speech making, not realistic conversation. All the well-known aides, like Arthur Schlesinger, Ted Sorenson, Pierre Salinger, Kenny O’Donnell and others, are all indistinct and interchangeable.
Reiner is trying to make the legitimate point that once our country was able to bridge differences to pass vital legislation. But giving it such a cursory treatment doesn’t do justice to how important such compromise is, then and now. It’s a much bigger time commitment but, if you really want to know Johnson during those years, read Robert Caro’s The Years of Lyndon Johnson: The Passage of Power.
Grade: C
Marshall, written by Jacob and Michael Koskoff, directed by Reginald Hudlin, 1h 58min
A much better approach to biographical film is to explore in-depth one particular incident to suss out the subject’s character, and that’s exactly what Marshall does. (Perhaps Reiner should have confined himself solely to the Johnson-Russell battle over the civil rights bills - we would have learned much more about the character of each man.)
We revere Thurgood Marshall (Chadwick Boseman) as the lawyer that successfully prosecuted the landmark civil rights case, Brown v. Board of Education, and as the first black justice on the Supreme Court. Other than a bemused expression, his trademark mustache and his consistently progressive voting record, we may not know much more.
The film takes us back to 1940 when Marshall was NAACP’s child counsel. He is ordered to Connecticut to defend Jason Spell (Sterling K. Brown), a young black man accused of the rape and attempted murder of Eleanor Strubing (Kate Hudson) whose family he worked for as a chauffeur.
All the odds are stacked against Marshall and Spell. Since he is not a member of the Connecticut bar, crusty old Judge Foster (James Cromwell,who is always perfect for these roles), won’t allow him to be Spells’ lead attorney or even speak in court. The only lawyer Marshall can find to defend Spell is a bumbling tax attorney, played by Josh Gad, who nearly steals the movie.
What’s on display in his defense of Spell are the attributes that made Marshall such a successful lawyer and jurist: skill, determination, empathy, even humor. The prejudices still inherent in this northern court shows that, while the attitudes were not as entrenched as in the South, there were, nonetheless, serious obstacles to black justice in the North as well.
Boseman (he played another pioneer, Jackie Robinson, in 42) conveys Marshall’s intensity, showing the internal fire of the more laid-back justice of later years. Hudson is restrained and effective as Mrs. Strubing, giving her just the right mix of mystery and vulnerability.
I wasn’t expecting this film to drill down on one case, but in retrospect this makes a much better movie and illuminates Marshall’s character much more than a survey of his life would have. Unlike LBJ, which merely declaims, the court-room drama of Marshall illuminates a man and an era that can’t be forgotten if we can ever expect to move beyond self-defeating and persistent racial attitudes.
Grade: B+
