Mommy Dearest was beaten black and blue on its original release back in the early 80's, so why is it such a fabulous film?
One critic, in the opening to his review of the cult favourite Mommie Dearest, wrote that he "couldn't imagine who would subject themselves to this movie." To put it bluntly, most critics hated the bio-pic based on the high-camp antics of Ms. Joan Crawford, so much so that they could have sunk the picture without trace, and oh, what a loss that would have been...
"Don't F*ck with me Fellas!"
Faye Dunaway is rumoured to hate Mommie Dearest, as is her co-star Mara Hobel who played the unfortunate Christina, adopted daughter to the psychotic giant that was Joan Crawford. They hate it because they took the whole thing too seriously, and each performance - where venomous mouths chewed every last prop from the stage - reflects this. Faye, Frank Perry who directed and (obviously) Christina Crawford, who wrote the expose that spawned this camp classic, had a very different movie in mind when making what would turn out to be the most hilarious film ever made...seriously!
They all assumed that when Joan, her face plastered with a luxurious face pack, confronts Christina over her inappropriate use of wire hangers, that cinemagoers would be shocked and appalled. Instead, we howled with laughter, we repeated the key phrases and obsessed over the sparkling frocks and insanely large hairstyles. Even though the real Joan Crawford had her post-humus reputation torn to shreds, Mommie Dearest managed to mythologies her image, sending her camp rating through the roof.
"Christina, get me the axe!"
Joan was already immortalised as Hollywood royalty, but what immortalised Mommy Dearest? Lines like "Don't **** with me, fellas" probably helped, and the over-the-top theatricality of the proceedings sealed the deal, but what keeps it selling? It would be wrong, and slightly obnoxious, to write only about how Mommy Dearest is the cinema equivalent of Joan Rivers, because it is not a great film by mistake.
Yes, it deserved all five razzies that it received, but some credit must go to the creators of this monster who had every intention of turning the camp screws as tight as possible, and maybe that was what Crawford deserved in a representation of her life. Cinema as camp as Christmas, as shallow as the world that consumed imbalanced actors, and as deliciously entertaining as anything produced during Crawford's reign.
Would we have David Lynch or John Waters (who provides a commentary on a recent DVD release) without Joan, and how much did Mommy Dearest influence them? Take a brief look through their back catalogue and it might become clear: Lynch’s obsession with the diva in distress and Waters’ assault on good taste can be traced back to the golden era of Hollywood, when stars were stars no matter what madness was unfolding at home. Long live Mommy Dearest!
