Diary of a Mad Housewife

The first exchanges in Frank Perry's Diary of a Mad Housewife make it clear that Tina Balser (Carrie Snodgress) isn't living the American dream. Her husband Jonathan (Richard Benjamin) treats her like garbage (their daughters aren't any better) and she never gets the support she deserves. Frustrated, she starts an affair with writer George Prager (Frank Langella). And even that's no walk in the park.

From a time when women were starting to be viewed as actual human beings, it seems strange that Diary of a Mad Housewife was released then. For once since who knows when women could lead liberating lives without (for the most part) getting berated. So to see an educated woman allow herself to be verbally degraded regularly is discomforting, to say the least.

And bear in mind that by this point in Hollywood, women were having their voices heard more behind both the typewriter and the camera. (Released the same year as Diary of a Mad Housewife was Wanda, Barbara Loden's lone foray as a director.) With the likes of Elaine May and Barbara Kopple on the cusp of their own fame, again it feels strange to watch this with that in mind.

But what's more likely is that Diary of a Mad Housewife is told from Tina's point of view. She's the only character in the film that's basically in every scene so it's hard to say if that's actually how she's treated. (More telling since Sue Kaufman's source novel was adapted by Perry's then-wife Eleanor -- whom he divorced the following year -- so who knows?)

Anyway, Diary of a Mad Housewife may seem tame by today's standards (and in comparison to other films of the decade) but back in 1970, it must've caused a stir upon its release. (Groucho Marx was certainly not a fan of it.) Either way, it captured an ignored woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

My Rating: ****

The Swimmer

Frank Perry's The Swimmer is certainly not one of the more conventional films of the 1960s. (Or, for that matter, any decade.) It doesn't open (or end) on a standard Hollywood note, and yet it's a bizarrely transfixing film.

It's understandable to see why The Swimmer is not that well-known of a film. After all, it was released in the year of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Bullitt and Rosemary's Baby. So that could mostly contribute to its obscurity. (Then again, there are a number of other less-than-famous films from that year.)

The story is also an unconventional one. Many films from this era would focus on a character trying to achieve the American dream. Here in The Swimmer, it's a complete deconstruction. Once one gets that dream, it can be hard to maintain it for those around you.

And I can't go on with this review without talking about Burt Lancaster's performance. Lancaster was one of those actors who was always good regardless of the film, and The Swimmer is no exception. With his quiet musings on life throughout the film, Lancaster's work in The Swimmer could easily rank as one of his best.

The Swimmer as a whole feels clunky in spots but is overall a solid piece of filmmaking. Perry, better known for the infamous Mommie Dearest, gives his audience an allegorial curio of a film that simply floats around in your mind long after the credits have rolled.

My Rating: ****1/2