"Imitation of Life" is maudlin, manipulative, lifeless, shameless, truth-free, mommy martyr porn with a strangulating dollop of anti-racism preachiness thrown in for good measure.
There are a few good things in this movie. The opening titles, shot over diamonds or teardrops falling down behind the cast names, is lovely. Lana Turner is a solid gold star, and she's in complete control of herself here. In one scene, she wears a white Jean Louis gown with a teal sash that complements her blue eyes.
Robert Alda is wonderfully smarmy as a conniving theatrical agent. Singer Mahalia Jackson gives a fabulous rendition of a spiritual. John Gavin is better looking than 99 % of human males.
Otherwise, this movie is so contrived they could have cast it with Barbie and Ken dolls and it would have had as much life and heart. The plot is a disjointed series of unconnected scenes of saintly mothers suffering: losing their children, being put upon by nasty males, being mistreated by their demonic daughters. The true emblem of a mommy porn movie is that the daughter/s are depicted as only slightly less repugnant than the demon-possessed teen girl in "The Exorcist."
Juanita Moore plays Annie, an African American mother whose daughter can pass as white. Since this is a mommy martyr porn movie, Annie is more pure and beneficent than God. Her daughter, Sarah Jane, is basically a serial killer in a poodle skirt she's even worse than Veda in "Mildred Pierce." Because this movie has preachy pretensions, it ladles on some more suds Sarah Jane hates mommy because Sarah Jane can pass as white, and Annie won't let her. Eventually, Sarah Jane's cruelty literally kills her mother. Again, as per mommy martyr porn, Sarah Jane realizes the error of her ways too late! -- and runs to her mother's funeral to weep, profusely, on her casket, screaming, "I was so bad! You were so good! I was so wrong! You were so right!"
Have you vomited yet? How much do mothers have to hate their own daughters for watching that scene to be fulfilling? The viewer is supposed feel admiration, even love, for Annie, and hatred for Sarah Jane. But Annie is really annoying. All teen girls, not just light skinned African American ones, want to separate from their mothers. That's part of their job as budding adults. It's even mandated by the Bible. Annie won't let Sarah Jane go. She follows the girl everywhere, smothering her.
Lana Turner is just on screen to be a "typical white person" as a certain presidential candidate might put it, being insensitive to Annie and to race relations, and to be ill used by a series of men who are either bad because they want to have their way with her, or because they do not want to have their way with her, because they respect her career too much, or because they respect her career not at all. Men, like daughters, come off very badly in mommy martyr porn.
I wish this movie had an alternate version, in which all the phony preachiness is stripped away and the core is a weird and wonderful relationship between Robert Alda, as the sleazy theatrical agent, and Lana Turner, the middle aged widow and mother trying to become a Broadway Star. Annie can come along, too, as a wise cracking maid who makes a million on the side. Her daughter can come back, not to throw herself on Annie's coffin, but to get a job. Now that would be worth watching.
There are a few good things in this movie. The opening titles, shot over diamonds or teardrops falling down behind the cast names, is lovely. Lana Turner is a solid gold star, and she's in complete control of herself here. In one scene, she wears a white Jean Louis gown with a teal sash that complements her blue eyes.
Robert Alda is wonderfully smarmy as a conniving theatrical agent. Singer Mahalia Jackson gives a fabulous rendition of a spiritual. John Gavin is better looking than 99 % of human males.
Otherwise, this movie is so contrived they could have cast it with Barbie and Ken dolls and it would have had as much life and heart. The plot is a disjointed series of unconnected scenes of saintly mothers suffering: losing their children, being put upon by nasty males, being mistreated by their demonic daughters. The true emblem of a mommy porn movie is that the daughter/s are depicted as only slightly less repugnant than the demon-possessed teen girl in "The Exorcist."
Juanita Moore plays Annie, an African American mother whose daughter can pass as white. Since this is a mommy martyr porn movie, Annie is more pure and beneficent than God. Her daughter, Sarah Jane, is basically a serial killer in a poodle skirt she's even worse than Veda in "Mildred Pierce." Because this movie has preachy pretensions, it ladles on some more suds Sarah Jane hates mommy because Sarah Jane can pass as white, and Annie won't let her. Eventually, Sarah Jane's cruelty literally kills her mother. Again, as per mommy martyr porn, Sarah Jane realizes the error of her ways too late! -- and runs to her mother's funeral to weep, profusely, on her casket, screaming, "I was so bad! You were so good! I was so wrong! You were so right!"
Have you vomited yet? How much do mothers have to hate their own daughters for watching that scene to be fulfilling? The viewer is supposed feel admiration, even love, for Annie, and hatred for Sarah Jane. But Annie is really annoying. All teen girls, not just light skinned African American ones, want to separate from their mothers. That's part of their job as budding adults. It's even mandated by the Bible. Annie won't let Sarah Jane go. She follows the girl everywhere, smothering her.
Lana Turner is just on screen to be a "typical white person" as a certain presidential candidate might put it, being insensitive to Annie and to race relations, and to be ill used by a series of men who are either bad because they want to have their way with her, or because they do not want to have their way with her, because they respect her career too much, or because they respect her career not at all. Men, like daughters, come off very badly in mommy martyr porn.
I wish this movie had an alternate version, in which all the phony preachiness is stripped away and the core is a weird and wonderful relationship between Robert Alda, as the sleazy theatrical agent, and Lana Turner, the middle aged widow and mother trying to become a Broadway Star. Annie can come along, too, as a wise cracking maid who makes a million on the side. Her daughter can come back, not to throw herself on Annie's coffin, but to get a job. Now that would be worth watching.