text: WRITTEN ON THE WIND, directed by Douglas Sirk and released in 1956, is like all of Sirk's mid 50's films- pure melodrama. Yet it is engrossing, richly developed melodrama, and Sirk's trademark lurid colour expressionism, throbbing, barely repressed emotions, symbolism and juxtaposition of the classes make this a film to crave.<br /><br />The film opens brilliantly, with the four central characters and the plot being introduced as the credits are still rolling. Sirk uses a clever flashback structure to take us into his world...<br /><br />Robert Stack and Dorothy Malone are magnificent as the two Hadley "kids", Kyle and Marylee. He drinks and sleeps around with women. She drinks and sleeps around with men. They both are worth millions, thanks to the Hadley oil business. Hunky, yet poor, Mitch Wayne (Rock Hudson) is Kyle's lifelong friend, and Marylee's dream lover. Enter into this sordid mess Lucy Moore (Lauren Bacall), a slim, attractive young woman who falls under Kyle's charms after he picks up a phone and flies her across the countryside one evening. Mitch loves her too, but Kyle wins her. They quickly marry, and Kyle stops drinking. But fate seems to be written on the wind, and it is not long before a conniving Marylee (who will "have Mitch", marriage or no marriage), a secretly smitten Mitch, the confused Lucy and the sad drunk Kyle come to blows....<br /><br />Malone is just wonderful as Marylee Hadley, thoroughly deserving her Best Supporting Actress Oscar. She steals every scene she is in. Stack is almost just as good, amping up the melodrama, while still maintaining subtly and quiet desperation. Hudson and Bacall are a lot more restrained than those two, yet it is in keeping with the characters they play.<br /><br />So, what's all this melodrama really about it? Well, a lot of things. Stack's powerful portrait of male inadequacy and fear, for one thing. Sirk surrounds Stack with phallic symbols throughout the film- note his tiny little gun, the oil derricks and the ultimate phallic symbol, Kyle's seeming inability to conceive children. Stack seems to be suffering from a massive male superiority complex, made worse by his father's preference for Hudson, his sister's desire for Hudson, and his suspicion that his wife is carrying on with Hudson. With all this wealth Kyle Hadley still ends up at the wrong end of town, buying cheap corn liquor like a "bum".<br /><br />It's about impossible dreams, and having to let go of them. The river where Kyle, Marylee and Mitch used to play when they were kids is constantly referenced throughout the film, symbolising Kyle and (especially) Marylee's wish for the innocence and simplicity of youth. In an excellent melodramatic scene, perfectly pulled off by Malone, Marylee's stands by the river and imagines herself again as a child, with voice-over of Mitch telling Marylee that she will always be his girl. This is where Sirk strikes a huge emotional chord with the viewer. Who hasn't dreamed about going back to that special place in childhood? Who hasn't, at some point, lived on a treasured memory? Who hasn't wanted something they couldn't have? And Hudson's last line of the film (yes, he gets no dialogue in the last 10 or so minutes, only close-ups) recollects on how "far we've come from the river, Marylee". Amazing.
query: WRITTEN ON THE WIND,
gen_review:  directed by Douglas Sirk and released in 1956, is like all of Sirk's mid 50's films- pure melodrama. Yet it is engrossing, richly developed melodrama, and Sirk's trademark lurid colour expressionism, throbbing, barely repressed emotions, symbolism and juxtaposition of the classes make this a film to crave.<br /><br />The film opens brilliantly, with the four central characters and the plot being introduced as the credits are still rolling. Sirk uses a clever flashback structure to take us into his world...<br /><br />Robert Stack and Dorothy Malone are magnificent as the two Hadley "kids", Kyle and Marylee. He drinks and sleeps around with women. She drinks and sleeps around with men. They both are worth millions, thanks to the Hadley oil business. Hunky, yet poor, Mitch Wayne (Rock Hudson) is Kyle's lifelong friend, and Marylee's dream lover. Enter into this sordid mess Lucy Moore (Lauren Bacall), a slim, attractive young woman who falls under Kyle's charms after he picks up a phone and flies her across the countryside one evening. Mitch loves her too, but Kyle wins her. They quickly marry, and Kyle stops drinking. But fate seems to be written on the wind, and it is not long before a conniving Marylee (who will "have Mitch", marriage or no marriage), a secretly smitten Mitch, the confused Lucy and the sad drunk Kyle come to blows....<br /><br />Malone is just wonderful as Marylee Hadley, thoroughly deserving her Best Supporting Actress Oscar. She steals every scene she is in. Stack is almost just as good, amping up the melodrama, while still maintaining subtly and quiet desperation. Hudson and Bacall are a lot more restrained than those two, yet it is in keeping with the characters they play.<br /><br />So, what's all this melodrama really about it? Well, a lot of things. Stack's powerful portrait of male inadequacy and fear, for one thing. Sirk surrounds Stack with phallic symbols throughout the film- note his tiny little gun, the oil derricks and the ultimate phallic symbol, Kyle's seeming inability to conceive children. Stack seems to be suffering from a massive male superiority complex, made worse by his father's preference for Hudson, his sister's desire for Hudson, and his suspicion that his wife is carrying on with Hudson. With all this wealth Kyle Hadley still ends up at the wrong end of town, buying cheap corn liquor like a "bum".<br /><br />It's about impossible dreams, and having to let go of them. The river where Kyle, Marylee and Mitch used to play when they were kids is constantly referenced throughout the film, symbolising Kyle and (especially) Marylee's wish for the innocence and simplicity of youth. In an excellent melodramatic scene, perfectly pulled off by Malone, Marylee's stands by the river and imagines herself again as a child, with voice-over of Mitch telling Marylee that she will always be his girl. This is where Sirk strikes a huge emotional chord with the viewer. Who hasn't dreamed about going back to that special place in childhood? Who hasn't, at some point, lived on a treasured memory? Who hasn't wanted something they couldn't have? And Hudson's last line of the film (yes, he gets no dialogue in the last 10 or so minutes, only close-ups) recollects on how "far we've come from the river, Marylee". Amazing.
reference_response:   directed by Douglas Sirk and released in 1956, is like all of Sirk's mid 50's films- pure melodrama. Yet it is engrossing, richly developed melodrama, and Sirk's trademark lurid colour expressionism, throbbing, barely repressed emotions, symbolism and juxtaposition of the classes make this a film to crave.<br /><br />The film opens brilliantly, with the four central characters and the plot being introduced as the credits are still rolling. Sirk uses a clever flashback structure to take us into his world...<br /><br />Robert Stack and Dorothy Malone are magnificent as the two Hadley "kids", Kyle and Marylee. He drinks and sleeps around with women. She drinks and sleeps around with men. They both are worth millions, thanks to the Hadley oil business. Hunky, yet poor, Mitch Wayne (Rock Hudson) is Kyle's lifelong friend, and Marylee's dream lover. Enter into this sordid mess Lucy Moore (Lauren Bacall), a slim, attractive young woman who falls under Kyle's charms after he picks up a phone and flies her across the countryside one evening. Mitch loves her too, but Kyle wins her. They quickly marry, and Kyle stops drinking. But fate seems to be written on the wind, and it is not long before a conniving Marylee (who will "have Mitch", marriage or no marriage), a secretly smitten Mitch, the confused Lucy and the sad drunk Kyle come to blows....<br /><br />Malone is just wonderful as Marylee Hadley, thoroughly deserving her Best Supporting Actress Oscar. She steals every scene she is in. Stack is almost just as good, amping up the melodrama, while still maintaining subtly and quiet desperation. Hudson and Bacall are a lot more restrained than those two, yet it is in keeping with the characters they play.<br /><br />So, what's all this melodrama really about it? Well, a lot of things. Stack's powerful portrait of male inadequacy and fear, for one thing. Sirk surrounds Stack with phallic symbols throughout the film- note his tiny little gun, the oil derricks and the ultimate phallic symbol, Kyle's seeming inability to conceive children. Stack seems to be suffering from a massive male superiority complex, made worse by his father's preference for Hudson, his sister's desire for Hudson, and his suspicion that his wife is carrying on with Hudson. With all this wealth Kyle Hadley still ends up at the wrong end of town, buying cheap corn liquor like a "bum".<br /><br />It's about impossible dreams, and having to let go of them. The river where Kyle, Marylee and Mitch used to play when they were kids is constantly referenced throughout the film, symbolising Kyle and (especially) Marylee's wish for the innocence and simplicity of youth. In an excellent melodramatic scene, perfectly pulled off by Malone, Marylee's stands by the river and imagines herself again as a child, with voice-over of Mitch telling Marylee that she will always be his girl. This is where Sirk strikes a huge emotional chord with the viewer. Who hasn't dreamed about going back to that special place in childhood? Who hasn't, at some point, lived on a treasured memory? Who hasn't wanted something they couldn't have? And Hudson's last line of the film (yes, he gets no dialogue in the last 10 or so minutes, only close-ups) recollects on how "far we've come from the river, Marylee". Amazing.<|endoftext|>
query_reference_response: WRITTEN ON THE WIND,  directed by Douglas Sirk and released in 1956, is like all of Sirk's mid 50's films- pure melodrama. Yet it is engrossing, richly developed melodrama, and Sirk's trademark lurid colour expressionism, throbbing, barely repressed emotions, symbolism and juxtaposition of the classes make this a film to crave.<br /><br />The film opens brilliantly, with the four central characters and the plot being introduced as the credits are still rolling. Sirk uses a clever flashback structure to take us into his world...<br /><br />Robert Stack and Dorothy Malone are magnificent as the two Hadley "kids", Kyle and Marylee. He drinks and sleeps around with women. She drinks and sleeps around with men. They both are worth millions, thanks to the Hadley oil business. Hunky, yet poor, Mitch Wayne (Rock Hudson) is Kyle's lifelong friend, and Marylee's dream lover. Enter into this sordid mess Lucy Moore (Lauren Bacall), a slim, attractive young woman who falls under Kyle's charms after he picks up a phone and flies her across the countryside one evening. Mitch loves her too, but Kyle wins her. They quickly marry, and Kyle stops drinking. But fate seems to be written on the wind, and it is not long before a conniving Marylee (who will "have Mitch", marriage or no marriage), a secretly smitten Mitch, the confused Lucy and the sad drunk Kyle come to blows....<br /><br />Malone is just wonderful as Marylee Hadley, thoroughly deserving her Best Supporting Actress Oscar. She steals every scene she is in. Stack is almost just as good, amping up the melodrama, while still maintaining subtly and quiet desperation. Hudson and Bacall are a lot more restrained than those two, yet it is in keeping with the characters they play.<br /><br />So, what's all this melodrama really about it? Well, a lot of things. Stack's powerful portrait of male inadequacy and fear, for one thing. Sirk surrounds Stack with phallic symbols throughout the film- note his tiny little gun, the oil derricks and the ultimate phallic symbol, Kyle's seeming inability to conceive children. Stack seems to be suffering from a massive male superiority complex, made worse by his father's preference for Hudson, his sister's desire for Hudson, and his suspicion that his wife is carrying on with Hudson. With all this wealth Kyle Hadley still ends up at the wrong end of town, buying cheap corn liquor like a "bum".<br /><br />It's about impossible dreams, and having to let go of them. The river where Kyle, Marylee and Mitch used to play when they were kids is constantly referenced throughout the film, symbolising Kyle and (especially) Marylee's wish for the innocence and simplicity of youth. In an excellent melodramatic scene, perfectly pulled off by Malone, Marylee's stands by the river and imagines herself again as a child, with voice-over of Mitch telling Marylee that she will always be his girl. This is where Sirk strikes a huge emotional chord with the viewer. Who hasn't dreamed about going back to that special place in childhood? Who hasn't, at some point, lived on a treasured memory? Who hasn't wanted something they couldn't have? And Hudson's last line of the film (yes, he gets no dialogue in the last 10 or so minutes, only close-ups) recollects on how "far we've come from the river, Marylee". Amazing.<|endoftext|>