Word: sarandons
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Most Dependable Mother/Daughter Relationship: in both Pretty Baby and King of the Gypsies, Susan Sarandon is Brooke Shields...
...what he did with the incest taboo in "Murmur of the Heart." But the product is confused in its story line and unidentifiable in its ideology, all in all a pretty big let down. Shields conveys all the mischieviousness of childhood, and none of the mystery. Her mother (Susan Sarandon) strands her in their New Orleans brothel without us ever really understanding why. And although a photographer named Bellocq (David Carradine) comes to save Shields and sweep her into marriage, Carradine is never really all there. Even the cinematography, exquisite as it is, never really hangs together; unlike...
...EITHER the plot or the acting provide the continuity that the cinematography lacks. The peek-a-boo piece in Playboy led us to believe that Violet's mother, Hattie (Susan Sarandon) would be a reluctant and ambitious hooker who dreamed of getting out. But Sarandon the ruthlessness to flesh out that theme. She simply ups and weds one of her johns in the middle of the movie--leaving Violet being and leaving us wondering why she did it, and where we missed something. Less self-explanatory still is David Carradine's portrayal of the photographer-suitor, Bellocq. When he first...
...Scenarist Polly Platt have hypothesized a romance-and eventual marriage-between Heroine Violet (Brooke Shields) and E.J. Bellocq (Keith Carradine), the legendary photographer of Storyville's glory days. This couple's bizarre March-December affair, like the equally promising relationship between Violet and her prostitute mother (Susan Sarandon), is described only intermittently. Instead of coming to terms with the characters' emotions, Malle dithers away his movie on rowdy sequences that depict the upstairs-downstairs antics of his oldtime sporting-house setting. Despite Sven Nykvist's fine cinematography and a rousing jazz score, a little...
...does not succeed. The cast does not do much to flesh out the material either. Be sides having no resemblance to the real Bellocq, Carradine rarely gets a handle on the mysterious photographer-hero. With his sepulchral demeanor, he looks less like an obsessed artist than a constipated undertaker. Sarandon, sputtering like a road-show Tennessee Williams heroine, never creates a credible character. Nor does Singer Frances Faye, playing an ancient madam who does an obligatory mad scene when reformers close down her business...