The Venice Film Festival is upon us and, this year, The Film Experience has two writers attending – Nathaniel and Elisa. For those at home, though, it might help satiate some of the FOMO to look back at the festival's long history. Indeed, these next two Almost There write-ups will focus on actors who won the Volpi Cup, managed to capture some Oscar buzz, but still failed to catch the Academy's attention. Today's example is exciting, for it comes from a rare tie. In 1988, the jury presided by Sergio Leone decided to award two performers with the Best Actress prize, an ex-aequo honor. They were Isabelle Huppert for her breathtaking tour de force in Chabrol's Story of Women and, our present subject of analysis, Shirley MacLaine in John Schlesinger's Madame Sousatzka…
Adapted from a novel by writer Bernice Rubens, Madame Sousatzka concerns the relationship between a young prodigy, Manek, and his imperious instructor, the titular Russian-American immigrant. Like her, the boy has non-British origins, the son of a Bengali woman who does everything to support her child and his potential as a future concert pianist. These specificities were invented for the film. In the original 1962 novel, both Sousatzka and her pupil share Jewish heritage instead. It's an interesting alteration that would further transfigure when the story was turned into a stage musical about a Polish teacher and a young Black South African pianist. Unfortunately, it's uncertain if the team behind the film was fully aware of the sociopolitical and historical twists this change ads to the characters.
As much as I love Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, the script she co-wrote with Schlesinger seems undecided on what it wants to be. Is the character of Madame Sousatzka meant to be an inspirational figure or a seditious influence? Is the movie supposed to be another To Sir, With Love and its ilk, or an examination of a flawed, potentially dangerous, pedagogue à la The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie? The tension between the two modes of storytelling produces scenes charged with volatile ambiguity but also indicates a lack of focus and perspective. The score, for example, is keen on sentimentalizing the older woman, her plights, and eccentricities. On the other hand, costuming and cosmetics insist on a grotesque reading of the figure, more Norma Desmond than John Keating.
But what about MacLaine? How does she resolve the internal contradiction of Madame Sousatzka? When we first see her, the actress enters the scene with disruptive physicality, marching towards a concert with cartoonish determination. From the way she walks to the maneuvering of her many necklaces and long shawls, the piano instructor looks like an otherworldly apparition. That extends to the tonal mismatch between MacLaine and her surroundings. In a film full of character actors guided by a mandate of social realism, the leading lady's Hollywood stardom rankles and disturbs. While magnetic, she seems to exist at a remove from every other person, the operatic manifestation of a parallel dimension.
Seeing her spar with Manek and his mother is seeing two cinemas colliding, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. Suffice it to say, MacLaine wins whatever battle there is to fight, stealing the scenes with a heady mix of carnivalesque over-demonstrativeness and a dash of ever-present severity. Nonetheless, it's difficult to say if this is to the movie's benefit or its detriment. Navin Chowdhry does an admirable job conveying the emotional turmoil of Manek, the rage against his teacher bleeding into adoration and rage again. However, the camera seldom gives him a chance to be the center of attention. Not when MacLaine is there mugging, arching her tense hands like elegant spiders, making the act of listening into a three-ring circus of staggering majesty.
If nothing else, the Hollywood star proves that she could have been a great silent movie actress, captivating the screen with little more than a movement of the eyes, a glistening tear, a twisted mouth. Watching her is a blast, even as the performative choices can confuse the dramaturgy. Whatever the consequences, MacLaine commits to the part's idiosyncrasies, sussing out some of the mania inherent to a woman who sees herself as mother to all her students, who manipulates like a master and can't – won't – let go. When the text mentions rumors that her attachment to a former pupil may have been predatory, it's easy to believe it. For as beatific as MacLaine makes Sousatzka, there's an undercurrent of horror to her behavior, the sting of anger to every prideful smile, insatiable.
In the actress's hands, the piano teacher knows how to get her way and bend any argument to her benefit. One loves to see the wheels whirl in her head, strategies shifting as she tries to find the best approach. MacLaine excels when illuminating these thought processes, when she can let go of the pedestrian dialogue and suggest the dark underbelly of this quasi-inspirational tale. Playing alongside her student, she's a vision of mellifluous pride, sweetness overcoming her expression. But even those sweet tonalities come baring an edge of bitterness. It's astonishing how MacLaine manages to undercut the potential sugariness of the flick while still giving a movie star performance.
Furthermore, the monster of failure gobbles Sousatzka's spirit, consuming her from within. It's the demon of memory, the remembrance of a night when her hands cramped mid-concert, the haunting teachings of an implacable mother. Such poison acts as a tincture that colors how she regards all her piano prodigies. Not that past traumas are any excuse for the colonialist fervor of her teachings, how she sneers at Manek's traditional clothes and wants him to respect the greatness of Eurocentric art and culture. The woman's archaism is admirably defiant, but it's also destructive – a balance MacLaine occasionally finds. When she does, this becomes one of the thespian's great achievements.
As stated before, MacLaine won the Volpi Cup at the 1988 Venice Film Festival, sharing the prize with Isabelle Huppert. If that situation weren't singular enough, MacLaine would go on to win another major award in a tied result. At the 16th Golden Globes, the prize for Best Actress in a Motion Picture Drama was given to three of the five nominees. MacLaine, Jodie Foster in The Accused, and Sigourney Weaver in Gorillas in the Mist. After that momentous victory, it would seem like the trio was headed to Oscar recognition. After all, at that time, no winner of that particular Globe had ever failed to secure an Academy Award nomination. Shirley MacLaine was the first. The other one was Kate Winslet in 2008 for Revolutionary Road. Although, in that case, the actress got recognition for a different movie at the Oscars.
MacLaine wasn't so lucky. The Oscar nominees of 1988 were the aforementioned Weaver and Foster, plus Glenn Close in Dangerous Liaisons, Melanie Griffith in Working Girl, and Meryl Streep in A Cry in the Dark. Foster won that Academy Award, though, in retrospect, many wish the statuette had gone to the forever un-Oscared Close. As for the star of Madame Sousatzka, another Academy Award nomination never materialized. It seems AMPAS grew tired of MacLaine after she won for Terms of Endearment. This 1988 non-nomination marks the first of many instances when she got considerable buzz and then failed to get the Oscar nod. Let's not forget Steel Magnolias, Postcards from the Edge, and In Her Shoes. In other words, you can count on Shirley MacLaine returning to the Almost There series.
Madame Sousatzka can be rented on many services, including Apple iTunes, Amazon, and Youtube.