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- CINEMA, Page 86The Way We Were
-
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- By RICHARD SCHICKEL
-
- MR. AND MRS. BRIDGE
- Directed by James Ivory
- Screenplay by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala
-
-
- Stolid houses and spacious yards. The whir of hand-powered
- lawn mowers in the summer, the scrape of snow shovels in the
- winter. Romberg on the radio, dinner at the country club once
- a week, a trip to Paris once a lifetime. Dad wears vests, Mom
- wears funny hats, the maid nips at the cooking sherry (must
- speak to her about that). If their son makes eagle scout and
- one of his sisters pledges Kappa, does it really matter that
- the other daughter decamps for Greenwich Village and a
- scattershot involvement with "the arts" that her parents will
- never understand?
-
- Probably not. For what is really important to Walter and
- India Bridge (Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward), citizens of
- Kansas City a half-century ago, is that the order of their
- rounds -- diurnal and annual -- is preserved. Drama in their
- lives is like crabgrass on their lawn: something to be rooted
- out the minute it appears and not dwelled upon thereafter.
-
- Walter can usually wither the untoward with a cold stare
- through his steel-rimmed spectacles, though sometimes it is
- necessary to bark a few brusque commands in order to send it
- scurrying. India, on the other hand, has a more coquettish
- relationship with it: she takes painting classes, flirts
- momentarily with divorce, psychoanalysis and the ideas of
- Thorstein Veblen. But whether the Bridges are confronting a
- tornado that Walter refuses to let interrupt dinner, their
- children's romantic and sexual hubbubs, a friend's suicide or
- simply the long silences of their own relationship, there is
- never any question about who is in charge around here.
-
- In the 1950s and '60s, when Evan S. Connell wrote the two
- quiet, delicately crafted novels that are expertly and
- faithfully conflated in Mr. and Mrs. Bridge, we had not yet
- learned to call marriages of this kind "traditional," putting
- a slight, sneering spin on the word. Just as this movie refuses
- to impose a thrusting dramatic structure on a story that is all
- incident, it also refuses to adopt anachronistic sociological
- attitudes toward its people. It retains novelist Connell's tone
- -- one of ironic compassion -- and sustains as well the perfect
- pitch of his voice, never going flat or sharp. That is to say
- it neither falls into easy sentiment nor strains for cheap
- satire. Instead it grants the Bridges the dignity that they --
- and most people of their time, place and (upper middle) class
- -- worked so hard to achieve and that is usually denied them
- in serious film and literature. In the process, it also grants
- its two stars the freedom to explore the couple's humanity.
-
- They exercise it with delicious subtlety. Walter's children
- and friends would be startled if they could hear him bellowing
- Stouthearted Men in the privacy of his car. Or see him make a
- sudden lurching grab for his wife in the privacy of their
- bedroom one hot summer's day. These urges do not surprise him.
- He is entirely aware of his secret life, and really quite
- pleased with it. But that's his business and no one else's.
-
- India is less open to herself, but Woodward invests her with
- sudden flashes of inarticulate understanding, a subtext of
- suppressed intelligence, that makes her submissiveness all the
- more poignant. Blythe Danner and Austin Pendleton in supporting
- roles are touching in much the same way. But then, this memory
- piece, shy in manner but tough in spirit, has brought out the
- best in everyone connected with it.
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