An upper-class widow (Jane Wyman) falls in love with a much younger, down-to-earth nurseryman (Rock Hudson), much to the disapproval of her children and criticism of her country club peers.
Today (2013) we live in the world of cougars and a very laissez-faire attitude to relationships and sexuality. For the most part we do not care who sleeps with who, who lives with who, and whatnot. Of course, not long ago, it was taboo to be openly gay or sometimes even to embrace cohabitation.
In 1955, what were the standards? Apparently even to date a younger man was frowned upon. They did not live together or have an intimate relationship... and yet Cary's children practically disown her. Why? Perhaps it could be more the class issue than the age issue, but regardless it comes across as silly by today's standards, considering the children are grown and this is not their business.
The film's use of color is impressive. In some ways it reminds one of "Black Narcissus" (1947), though the color palette makes the characters and backgrounds seem almost like stained glass. Cinematographer Russell Metty had a long career, dating back to the 1920s and earning an Oscar in 1960 for "Spartacus". Perhaps he should have received an award here.
In this film, Rock Hudson is shown as "an object" or "a spectacle", somewhat reversing traditional gender roles. This, of course, is quite intentional, as it would hardly be taboo for an older man to pursue a younger woman. But in some ways it is more than age, with his very body being something to admire, not a common male trait. (Cary's son flatly says that he is nothing but "muscles".)
Much can be said about the replacement of a lost love with television and what the film was trying to say with this. Television was still a relatively new medium at the time, so in some ways this is prescient in how it suggests that we could fill our lives with such a thing.
The Criterion commentary discusses whether or not Sirk's approach was "Brechtian" and how his shots were largely claustrophobic. Much of the discussion is helpful, though they do tend to get a bit too academic at times, seeing symbolism where it likely is not. And there is a long tangent on trying to define "melodrama" and whether or not it is a gendered term.
Today (2013) we live in the world of cougars and a very laissez-faire attitude to relationships and sexuality. For the most part we do not care who sleeps with who, who lives with who, and whatnot. Of course, not long ago, it was taboo to be openly gay or sometimes even to embrace cohabitation.
In 1955, what were the standards? Apparently even to date a younger man was frowned upon. They did not live together or have an intimate relationship... and yet Cary's children practically disown her. Why? Perhaps it could be more the class issue than the age issue, but regardless it comes across as silly by today's standards, considering the children are grown and this is not their business.
The film's use of color is impressive. In some ways it reminds one of "Black Narcissus" (1947), though the color palette makes the characters and backgrounds seem almost like stained glass. Cinematographer Russell Metty had a long career, dating back to the 1920s and earning an Oscar in 1960 for "Spartacus". Perhaps he should have received an award here.
In this film, Rock Hudson is shown as "an object" or "a spectacle", somewhat reversing traditional gender roles. This, of course, is quite intentional, as it would hardly be taboo for an older man to pursue a younger woman. But in some ways it is more than age, with his very body being something to admire, not a common male trait. (Cary's son flatly says that he is nothing but "muscles".)
Much can be said about the replacement of a lost love with television and what the film was trying to say with this. Television was still a relatively new medium at the time, so in some ways this is prescient in how it suggests that we could fill our lives with such a thing.
The Criterion commentary discusses whether or not Sirk's approach was "Brechtian" and how his shots were largely claustrophobic. Much of the discussion is helpful, though they do tend to get a bit too academic at times, seeing symbolism where it likely is not. And there is a long tangent on trying to define "melodrama" and whether or not it is a gendered term.