Far from Heaven

Far from Heaven (2002) is an amiable stab at old-fashioned filmmaking. Todd Haynes crafts a handsome time capsule of the '50s, paying homage to Douglas Sirk's famous melodramas while exploring the unspoken tensions underneath. Essentially an experiment in nostalgia, it's beautifully crafted and well-acted.

Cathy Whittaker (Julianne Moore) is a model '50s housewife, living in idyllic Connecticut and married to ad executive Frank (Dennis Quaid). But Cathy gradually discovers Frank's secret life; he's a closeted homosexual. Reeling from this revelation, Cathy confides her Raymond (Dennis Haysbert), a kindly black gardener. Cathy and Raymond grow closer, inspiring local gossips to denounce their "improper" relationship. As Frank struggles to control his sexuality more and more, Cathy's life threatens to unspool completely.

Far from Heaven evokes a bygone era of movie-making. Haynes borrows Sirk's gorgeous Technicolor and emotive lighting, with Elmer Bernstein providing a lush old-fashioned score. Haynes mixes deliberately arch, anachronistic dialogue with lightly affected acting. Thanks to photographer Edward Lachman, Heaven never lacks for gorgeous visuals: the period detail and beautiful autumn settings, Cathy and friends' seasonal outfits to Raymond's flannel jackets emulating Rock Hudson in All That Heaven Allows. There's even a rear projected driving scene!

Far from Heaven addresses material that Sirk's films only hinted at. Cathy and friend Eleanor (Patrica Clarkson) discuss sex as an unpleasant chore, subverting the wink-and-nod approach to marital relations. Cathy hints early on at an edge beneath her image; she was nicknamed "Red" in college for supporting progressive causes, making her susceptible to gossip.The townspeople express vague support for Civil Rights, but confronted with real Negros act as bigoted as Orval Faubus. In a society stressing conformity, any deviation from accept norms brings harsh consequences.

All this would be routine enough, on the surface. Deconstructions of '50s white bread conformity are fairly common in our politically correct society. But Haynes reflects not only the look but the attitudes of a '50s film, if the Hayes Office allowed more honesty. In this regard, Heaven puts similar nostalgic efforts like Steven Soderbergh's The Good German to shame.

Haynes shovels on the racist content with a trowel: Raymond's daughter gets stoned by neighborhood punks, a black boy closes a hotel pool by wading in the shallow end. Haynes handles the romance more sensitively, but Raymond's little more than a bland nice guy. Frank's characterization proves more interesting. Full of self-loathing, he picks up men in dingy bars and movie theaters, seeking a psychologist therapist (James Rebhorn) who subjects him to aversion therapy. Yet Frank's efforts at conformity further unhinge him. Homosexuality was then not only taboo but a crime, a mental disease; slammed brutally into the closet, Frank unwittingly destroys his family.

Julianne Moore gives a remarkable performance. Early on she gives a delightfully affected turn, cheerily playing up Cathy's image as "Mrs. Magnitech." Cathy's largely passive, confused by and reacting to currents around her, a character less worthy actresses would squander. But Moore finds the human core beneath the caricature, trapped by her role as wife and homemaker, yet unable to maintain the facade.

Dennis Quaid plays wonderfully against type, all confusion, anguish and self-loathing. Quaid walks a careful tightrope; we're sympathetic to Frank's inner turmoil, even though (or because?) he embraces the prejudices of his peers. Dennis Haysbert is quietly likeable, in a role allowing for little else. Patricia Clarkson (The Untouchables) does excellent work, turning on Cathy once she finds the rumors are true. Viola Davis (Doubt) appears as the Whittaker's maid.

As a cinematic exercise Far from Heaven is highly enjoyable. Whether its appeal stretches beyond cineastes is questionable, though there's certainly enough substance to engage a wide audience.