 |
| Writer/director Michael Roemer |
 |
| actress Trish Van Devere |
 |
| actress Brooke Adams |
VENGEANCE IS MINE – made for TV A- aka: Haunted from PBS American Playhouse USA (118 mi) 1984 d: Michael Roemer
We’re all innocent. —Donna (Trish Van Devere)
Born in Berlin, evacuated at age 11 through the Kindertransports, educated at the private Bunce Court boarding school in England, originating as a German Jewish school for refugees, before emigrating to the United States in 1945 where he graduated magna cum laude at Harvard University, a recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1971 and author of four books, while his film Nothing But a Man (1964) may be the best film ever made about the black experience in America. This is something totally different, originally released on television as an American Playhouse episode under the title Haunted, where it never received much critical acclaim, seen only by a few, taking nearly forty years to be theatrically released under a new title, debuting earlier this year at New York’s Film Forum with a newly struck 35mm print from The Film Desk, accompanied by an interview with the 94-year old director, Life Is Hard: Michael Roemer on Vengeance Is Mine, while the film was only just recently shown in Chicago in a one-time screening. Something of a major discovery of an unknown work by a director who made few films, finding it difficult to distribute those few, failing to follow commercial trends, considering himself part of the independent East coast establishment that included documentary filmmakers Frederick Wiseman and Albert Maysles, spending four years making nearly 100 educational films for the Ford Foundation in the early 60’s while working as a film professor at the Yale School of Art from 1966 until he retired in 2017. Initially shot on Super 16mm by Franz Rath, blown up to 35 mm, giving it a sumptuous, yet grainy look, it uses actual Massachusetts and Rhode Island locations, offering a remarkable feel of life in small New England towns, escalating into a psychological family drama with rare intensity. With family dysfunction providing the theme, Roemer delves into a blisteringly real storyline of two women in conflict, accentuating a subversively rich tapestry of hidden emotions. All of Roemer’s works explore tenuous relationships with a literary complexity, as there’s a sadness and unspoken cruelty that permeates throughout this film, typically disguised, deeply embedded in unexpected places, expressed with a subtle delicacy of poetic restraint, offering indelible insights not normally found elsewhere. Featuring two amazing performances from Brooke Adams as Jo and Trish Van Devere (married at the time to George C. Scott) as Donna, Jo returns to her East coast childhood home to heal old family wounds, only to discover her ailing adoptive mother withdrawn and distant, basically aloof to any attempts for reconciliation, driving her next door in frustration, hoping to find a place of refuge, discovering Donna, who is herself undergoing a family crisis of her own, yet Jo is drawn to her precocious young daughter Jackie (Ari Meyers), a stark reminder of the child she never had. Opening and closing with shots of Jo on an airplane, a montage of facial expressions, with the camera fixed on her face in a long shot while the music of Django Reinhardt can be heard, Moonglow - YouTube (3:00), breaking the 4th wall at the end and staring straight at the camera.
We quickly learn about Jo’s miserable childhood, viewed as a bad seed by her mother, believing she is evil incarnate, treated as an outcast, while her sister Franny (Audrey Matson) received all the love and attention, developing a healthy relationship, trying to act as a go-between in Jo’s quest for redemption, with Jo expressing to her mother that not every adoption is a success, refusing to cast blame, claiming it’s nobody’s fault, it just happens sometimes, but her mother is not so forgiving, still holding a grudge, finding her utterly loathsome to be with. After a disastrous standstill, events come to an abrupt halt when her mother dies shortly afterwards. Among the more powerful scenes are the stark realism of a bedside unction and the devout severity of a Catholic religious service where certain rituals must be followed, but Jo defers, refusing to genuflect, clearly not a believer, establishing a link between the entrenched orthodoxy of the church and her mother’s oppressive views of her daughter. Never resorting to gimmicks or overt symbolism, the carefully calibrated Roemer is a master of realist understatement, where his stories tend to meander and take detours, only to end up back in the beginning with this film, yet they are unvarnished and unfiltered, unmistakable truth bombs, conveying how the extreme weight of this experience weighs heavily on Jo. Running into her divorced husband, Steve (Mark Arnott), his obnoxious behavior quickly reminds her of the abusive relationship she left behind, including a teenage pregnancy given up for adoption, taking salvation in the young innocence of Jackie, though her parents are splitting apart as well, as her father Tom (Jon DeVries) may be moving to Pittsburgh, taking his daughter along with him. Donna is an aspiring artist with questionable talent, desperately wanting a gallery exhibit to showcase her work, but it appears what she really wants is an ego boost from the deflating family experience that leaves her feeling abandoned. In the spur of the moment, Donna seizes upon an opportunity and invites Jo to share an island experience with her daughter on Block Island off the coast of Rhode Island, taking a short ferry ride to get there, as Donna has a home overlooking the sea. They are surprised by the unexpected arrival of Tom, who needs Donna to sign divorce papers, placing some urgency on this request, something that leaves Donna cold, evading him at all costs, heading to the nearest roadside bar with Jo, finding a random young man to take comfort, which startles Jo, completely caught offguard, taking a bit of offense by the absurdity of the situation, leaving her feeling emotionally hijacked. When they return back to the house, tempers flare, with marital accusations hurled fast and heavy, sending Jo and Jackie in retreat to a bedroom, with Jo trying to shelter her from the obvious anguish of parental discord. Donna goes through dizzying mood shifts, grabbing her daughter affectionately, to the point of hurting her, then angrily blaming her for choosing to live with her father, as Donna’s life is an emotional rollercoaster of extreme highs and lows.
We quickly discover Donna has a history of psychiatric difficulties, having previously been institutionalized, and is wary of discussing this or revealing any signs of emotional weakness, doing everything she can to avoid a return, passively acknowledging a willingness, before erupting in fierce resistance, where her outlandishly paranoid behavior sends a chilling pall on family life, clearly targeting Jackie in a relentless campaign of continuing abuse, with Jo acting as a protective shield, which only sends Donna spiraling even more out of control. While Jo was intending on returning to her life in Seattle after making a quick stop here, which includes tracking down her birth mother, never letting on who she is, yet this alternative family dynamic is luring her in, initially befriending Donna, but begrudgingly comes to the realization of just how thoroughly she betrays those closest to her, always suspecting the worst, accusing Jo of trying to steal her husband and daughter, at one point attacking her with scissors and cutting her hair. With the threat of violence, precautions are taken, separating her from Jackie, with Jo suspecting her erratic behavior will eventually bring harm, yet the more measured and calmly reserved Tom never seems alarmed or agitated, as if he’s seen all this before. Nonetheless, she urges them to lock their doors. Going full haunted house in a Gothic thriller, Roemer shoots a vividly creepy scene in a rainstorm, as Jackie is awakened in the middle of the night, hearing strange noises outside, so when Jo investigates, she sees Donna outside, like a ghoulish prowler peeping in. Intentionally planting an image, cruelly punishing her for the hurtful threats that are aimed at Jackie, Jo is seen mysteriously lying down in the same bed where Tom is sleeping, which can visibly be seen through a window, enraging the spying Donna, who is helplessly engulfed in a torrent of rain. Yet morning brings an incurably cheerful Donna, showing no resistance to receiving help, agreeing to sign herself into a facility while helping herself to the breakfast they made. It’s a stunning transformation, with Jackie obviously moved by her mother’s affection, yet just as suddenly we discover she never makes it to the institution, as promised, while Jackie is also discovered missing. In full alert, they go on a mass search, believing she may be heading for the last ferry to the island, trying to cut her off, discovering she is there, yet has no recollection of being with her daughter earlier, even though they were reportedly last seen together in town. Jo jumps on the ferry, while Tom will continue the search for his missing daughter, turning into a frightful night on the island, a psychological nightmare, as Jo is convinced she’s somehow harmed or even killed Jackie, likely having abandoned her somewhere, with Donna feigning ignorance, admitting to nothing, claiming she simply can’t recall. Yet when Jo tries to call Tom, Donna rips the telephone cords out of the walls, with a crazed look of terror in her eyes, leaving them isolated and completely cut off from the world. What follows is a battle royale of inflamed emotions, neither one striking a false note, with Donna looking more demented by the second, eerily veering into horror, laying down the wrath of anger, while Jo finds her behavior more and more unhinged, utterly repulsed by what she may have done, continually taking unexpected detours, incorporated into an always inventive narrative that takes us down a deep abyss. Turning into a kind of ghost story, one’s worst psychological suspicions are realized, as if coming to life, haunting each one of them, elevated into a supremely intense display of dramatic entanglement that can send chills down the spine. The film’s understanding of mental illness and the cycle of abuse simply transcends its time, conceived during an era when domestic violence as a term was not commonly utilized. Roemer refuses to make this a genre film, following each of the characters closely, developing a human conundrum of continually shifting points of view.
