Ahhhhh, I get it. [Lightbulb!] Gloria Grahame was a real person. This really happened. Well, no wonder this film didn’t go anywhere. I kept waiting for magic … or Kareem, maybe Bird. (Not sure which.) When magic didn’t arrive, I felt kinda empty. Dammit! Stop performing at me and tell me a story! Now, I get it. I like this movie more now that I understand, yet only from the intuition point of view.
I guess I began with the end. Meh. It’s gonna happen on the blog from time-to-time. Get your own blog; you can review Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool the way you want. Gloria Grahame (Annette Bening) was a minor movie star at a time when Hollywood went ga-ga for vacuous sex pots like Judy Holliday and Marilyn Monroe. Perhaps I should qualify – Hollywood went ga-ga for actresses who could give the appearance of being vacuous sexpots; I have no idea what these women were like in real life.
The problem with the vacuous sex pot thing is it has a shelf-life. (Hard to believe in Hollywood, huh?) Eventually, Anna Faris has to play “mom” or sell her wares by the side of the road. Somehow, it’s that much funnier picturing Ms. Faris hocking DVDs of The House Bunny and What’s Your Number? juxtaposed with migrant families peddling artichokes. I digress; this picture is not about Ms. Faris, but more her type.
Relatively old, relatively infirm, and relatively out of options, Gloria Grahame arrived in Liverpool in the late 1970s for something not far beyond community theater. She’s an actress; they were hiring. I’m not sayin’ Grahame ever stopped being a screen actress, but if you’ve seen her, it was most likely in either Oklahoma! (1955) or as Violet in It’s A Wonderful Life (1946). Sure, it’s possible you and your loved ones huddle around the TV every Christmas for a viewing of Mansion of the Doomed (1976) or Mama’s Dirty Girls (1974), but I’m guessing it’s unlikely. Anyhoo, Gloria makes a show of dancing door ajar in her new Liverpool rathole and manages to attract Peter Turner (Jamie Bell), who never leaves.
One thing I enjoyed about the romance is that while the screenplay dances around the age difference between the two, we get the feeling they enjoy one another. Gloria doesn’t love Peter just for his youth, and Peter doesn’t just love Gloria for her celebrity – or at least that’s the impression I got. It’s sweet when the two have a private disco showdown and it’s cute when they protect one another; and they have to – Peter is a stranger to all things outside Liverpool and Gloria is dying of cancer.
That said, this movie is dull. If cute and likeable performances were enough to satisfy my screen
craving, well, I’d be all set. But they aren’t. Gloria and Peter are perfectly amiable on screen. The difference, however, between amiable and charming on screen is the difference between Cary Elwes and Cary Grant … or, Hell, even current Cary Elwes v. 1980s Cary Elwes.
This film was doomed from the title. You can’t possibly hope for box office gold with “Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool,” can you? The cynic in me wonders, therefore, if this film exists simply for Bening to push an Oscar nod. And it probably would have were 2017 not such a landmark year in feminism; as is, however, Gal Godot tops the list of the unrecognized. Violet Bick can wait. The best thing, by far, attached to the city of Liverpool remains The Beatles.
♪I saw this girl in my crappy hotel
Who’d she piss off to land in this Hell?
Think I saw her on the TV last week
Her prospects went from unhappy to bleak
Baby you were once a star
Now you’re hanging round this bar
Nothing here’s above subpar
And baby, I mourn you♫
Rated R, 105 Minutes
Director: Paul McGuigan
Writer: Matt Greenhalgh
Genre: Real life, ugh
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Fanboys from the 1950s
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: Cougar haters
♪ Parody Inspired by “Drive My Car”
