Mildred PierceSome mothers cannot see discipline as a facet of parental love. This is ultimately the undoing of Mildred Pierce (Joan Crawford) in the movie of the same name. She is a mother and housewife who puts the happiness of her daughter, Veda (Ann Blyth), above everything else. She spoils her with things like dresses that fail to satisfy the entitled brat, even at the expense of her marriage to her first husband, Bert (Bruce Bennett). But Mildred Pierce is not just a story of family troubles; it is a murder mystery, opening with the killing of Mildred's second husband, Monte Beragon (Zachary Scott) by an unseen figure. Was it Mildred? Had she finally had enough?
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From the start, Mildred Pierce is infused with dramatic irony. There is no mistake that Monte was murdered, and it stands to reason that it was either Mildred or someone she knows who did it. Details of the killing revealed to Mildred by the sly Detective Peterson (Moroni Olsen) entice her to reveal how she came to this point in her life by way of flashback. Mildred narrates that for as long as she can remember, she was in a kitchen, save for a "few hours when she got married" to Bert. She supplements the household income by baking cakes and pies for the neighborhood, and she's very talented. She also has to suffer Bert's grumpiness after he has been cut out of the real estate business by his ex-partner, Wally Fay (Jack Carson), a sleazeball who has a shamelessly open infatuation with Mildred. But some of these details--like Wally's cavalier attitude toward seducing his ex-business partner's wife--aren't fully explored at the start. Of course not...but they will be. Perhaps the greatest strength of Mildred Pierce is in the way that it manipulates the audience to draw conclusions before all of the facts are in. How it turns your expectations around once you begin to get the big picture. The first few minutes of the movie are key in this. Monte is murdered. Then we cut away to the despondent Mildred. The language of cinematography that we've been raised on suggests that Mildred was responsible. We don't know why she was contemplating suicide, but based on what limited info we have, we are instinctively led to believe that it comes from remorse...remorse for murder, that is. To some, this might be perceived as manipulative, but what are mysteries if not manipulation of the audience's expectations? Mildred is incriminated further in our eyes when she knowingly leads Wally back to Monte's home, suggesting that she's finally ready to take him up on all of his "twice a week" advances against her virtue. But when she sneaks out of the building--locking Wally in--and he discovers Monte's body, we now start to wonder if she was trying to frame Wally all along. After all, he is a sleaze, and as the story progresses, there is little to dismiss this theory. Rather, there are more than enough compelling points to strengthen it and make him a source of contention for Mildred. So while Peterson tells Mildred that they've fingered Bert for the killer--owing to his presumed motive (jealousy), that he didn't "deny" killing him (odd police work, there), and that he owns the gun that was found to have done it--Mildred still feels compelled to tell Peterson her story. Why would she do this when she's "off the hook", especially if she was the killer in the first place? These kind of questions speak to the mystique of Mildred Pierce.
Some have viewed Mildred Pierce as a "feminist" film noir, and it's understandable to see how that conclusion could be reached. Much of this is supported by Joan Crawford's complex and nuanced performance. Mildred is forced to show a face of strength and independence to the world while enduring criticism, doubt, and tragedy. She is almost preternaturally gifted and driven, capable at succeeding at anything she puts her mind to...except satisfying Veda. One wonders if this is why she obsesses over her daughter so much, because she just can win that war. Veda is an unrelenting snob, who believes that it looks badly on her for her mother to be a waitress--a job Mildred is forced to take after Bert leaves, and she is left supporting the family. Mildred succeeds at learning the trade quickly and excels at it, even befriending her boss, Ida (Eve Arden), who later become her employee. But when the snooping Veda learns of this "demeaning" occupation and spites her, Mildred fails to educate Veda on the necessity for it. Instead, she doubles down and comes up with a justification on the spot that she was only working as a waitress in order to become a restauranteur herself. Wow. That's a tall order she's given herself to fill. But because Mildred has a head for business, she thrives here too. And yet, if you think about it, the biggest problem with all of this achievement is that this was never her "dream" to begin with. She rationalized herself into this profession just to avoid confronting her own daughter. Mildred is far from dumb, but she invests her very soul into Veda's happiness (and others, to a lesser extent, like Monte and Bert) at the expense of her own who simply aren't worth such a sacrifice. There is a clear message about child rearing in Mildred Pierce. Veda, surely, could not always have been such a brat and prima donna. Compare her with Mildred's younger daughter, Kay (Jo Ann Marlowe), who is a tomboy, but has a far more affable and agreeable personality. Yet Mildred still has her take ballet lessons. Why? Because I think that Mildred believes that she can forge a family into what she wants it to be solely on grit and determination. Mildred is obsessed with the idea of a perfect family, and deep down cannot cope with the prospect of unhappiness. But instead of lashing out, she goes all in on making the life she wants for herself through her own efforts...yet it's a lost cause from the start. Mildred's best efforts only blow up in her face. Once you realize this by the end of Mildred Pierce, her tragically long gaze into the abyss on that pier in the prologue seems all too easy to understand...as she has finally begun to understand.
Recommended for: Fans of an engaging mystery and film noir--often described (unfairly, I believe) as melodrama--that oozes dread and unease, courtesy of the dramatic irony in the prologue. Mildred Pierce is fascinating on first and repeat viewings because our understanding of its characters is constantly evolving. It is an excellent story with a hypnotic way of keeping the suspense. Eventhe film's moments of light-hearted comedy in between instances of heartbreak amount to little more than "whistling in the dark" in the face of inevitable doom.
Some have viewed Mildred Pierce as a "feminist" film noir, and it's understandable to see how that conclusion could be reached. Much of this is supported by Joan Crawford's complex and nuanced performance. Mildred is forced to show a face of strength and independence to the world while enduring criticism, doubt, and tragedy. She is almost preternaturally gifted and driven, capable at succeeding at anything she puts her mind to...except satisfying Veda. One wonders if this is why she obsesses over her daughter so much, because she just can win that war. Veda is an unrelenting snob, who believes that it looks badly on her for her mother to be a waitress--a job Mildred is forced to take after Bert leaves, and she is left supporting the family. Mildred succeeds at learning the trade quickly and excels at it, even befriending her boss, Ida (Eve Arden), who later become her employee. But when the snooping Veda learns of this "demeaning" occupation and spites her, Mildred fails to educate Veda on the necessity for it. Instead, she doubles down and comes up with a justification on the spot that she was only working as a waitress in order to become a restauranteur herself. Wow. That's a tall order she's given herself to fill. But because Mildred has a head for business, she thrives here too. And yet, if you think about it, the biggest problem with all of this achievement is that this was never her "dream" to begin with. She rationalized herself into this profession just to avoid confronting her own daughter. Mildred is far from dumb, but she invests her very soul into Veda's happiness (and others, to a lesser extent, like Monte and Bert) at the expense of her own who simply aren't worth such a sacrifice. There is a clear message about child rearing in Mildred Pierce. Veda, surely, could not always have been such a brat and prima donna. Compare her with Mildred's younger daughter, Kay (Jo Ann Marlowe), who is a tomboy, but has a far more affable and agreeable personality. Yet Mildred still has her take ballet lessons. Why? Because I think that Mildred believes that she can forge a family into what she wants it to be solely on grit and determination. Mildred is obsessed with the idea of a perfect family, and deep down cannot cope with the prospect of unhappiness. But instead of lashing out, she goes all in on making the life she wants for herself through her own efforts...yet it's a lost cause from the start. Mildred's best efforts only blow up in her face. Once you realize this by the end of Mildred Pierce, her tragically long gaze into the abyss on that pier in the prologue seems all too easy to understand...as she has finally begun to understand.
Recommended for: Fans of an engaging mystery and film noir--often described (unfairly, I believe) as melodrama--that oozes dread and unease, courtesy of the dramatic irony in the prologue. Mildred Pierce is fascinating on first and repeat viewings because our understanding of its characters is constantly evolving. It is an excellent story with a hypnotic way of keeping the suspense. Eventhe film's moments of light-hearted comedy in between instances of heartbreak amount to little more than "whistling in the dark" in the face of inevitable doom.