Reviews
Crimes of Passion | Blu-ray Review
The second and last US production from Russell (not counting 1991’s Los Angeles set UK funded Whore, and following 1980’s glorious and hallucinatory sci-fi trip Altered States, which earned him a toxic reputation in Tinseltown thanks to his rows with screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky), the director would return to more comfortably galvanizing fare with this treatment from Barry Shandling (shortly after the writer’s script of the notable but similarly failed Making Love, a high-profile star vehicle concerning homosexual romance with Harry Hamlin and Michael Ontkean). Concerning a fashion designer who moonlights as a street prostitute, it’s an angry, arguably putrid examination of repressed sexual yearnings breaking free from the heteronormative trap of monogamy demanded by the institution of marriage and mandated by religious doctrine.
Joanna (Kathleen Turner) is a sophisticated but buttoned up fashion designer by day who becomes a worldly street prostitute by night named China Blue, a woman whose sexual proclivities have no bounds. Her boss, however, suspects there’s something wrong with her, convinced she’s selling their designs to competitors, and so he hires down-on-his-luck Bobby Grady (John Laughlin) to follow her. Bobby’s been having his own problems, married for ten plus years to high-school sweetheart Amy (Annie Potts), struggling to stay afloat financially with his dwindling business he’s poured all his resources into, which has forced him to take odd side-jobs such as this. Instantly, he’s enthralled by the mysterious China Blue, a woman whose sexual appetite is the exact opposite of his bored wife’s. A relationship ensues, but all the while, they’re threatened by depraved Reverend Peter Shayne (Anthony Perkins), a street preacher who is also fascinated by China Blue, a woman he believes to be his broken equal.
It’s not hard to see why audiences were generally repulsed by Russell’s nightmare (which shares a similar title to a noir-ish late 1950s melodrama starring Barbara Stanwyck, Crime of Passion), the gaudy and garish production design resembling the hellish response to something like Francis Ford Coppola’s musical romance One from the Heart (1981) and recycling the feminine agency via the exaggerated sexuality slant of Bunuel’s Belle De Jour (1967). Unabashedly crass, Kathleen Turner’s portrayal as the laughably named China Blue, who tramples the pavement wearing blue eyeshadow underneath a platinum blonde doll wig and wrapped in an ill-fitting baby blue prom dress ensemble, is quite the formidable force. A decade later, Turner would return to a similarly sordid universe in John Waters’ delirious Serial Mom, but even still, this is an endlessly fascinating portrayal unfettered by notions of conforming to expectation.
Early on, a trick tries to caress her romantically after his pampered fellatio, and she carelessly rolls her eyes and makes up whatever lie she has to move onto the next client, a rape role-play which reveals her lack of boundaries. Perkins’ sinister reverend haunts the periphery of the narrative, a metaphor concerning the Puritanical yet symbiotic relationship of religion and the American tradition of approaching sexuality as a shameful, yet necessary outlet of human expression. But the film is much more than a mere exploitational marathon of smut, and builds sympathy for the immature but emotionally stunted working class stud played by John Laughlin, stuck in a stale marriage with high-school sweetheart Annie Potts (in the same year she’d appear as Janine in Ghostbusters).
A tense but heartfelt bedroom exchange regarding their stunted sexual dynamic reaches truths most sincere melodramas don’t come close to bluntly examining between men and women who are so frustratingly thwarted by polite discourse. And even if the somewhat stable ground the film struggles to obtain remains unconvincing thanks to its jarring set-up, the book end self-help sequence where Laughlin updates all on his newfound self-expression, ends on a note similar to Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut (1999), for what, after all is left except to fuck?
Disc Review:
Arrow Video grants this updated release a new 2K restoration from original film materials, including the director’s and theatrical cut versions. Presented in 1.85:1, DP Dick Bush’s (who worked on Russell’s rock opera Tommy, as well as Friedkin’s glorious Sorcerer) cinematography jumps out in all its neon sleaze, while several daytime sequences (where Turner gets picked up by a money hungry Wall Street couple who fondle her in their limo as they converse on stock tips) feel as equally tawdry. Audio is similarly resplendent in this transfer, highlighting an inspired score from Rick Wakeman, which utilizes Antonin Dvorak’s symphony “From the New World.” As usual with Arrow Video’s inspired releases, the title includes multiple bonus features, including audio commentary from Russell and producer/screenwriter Barry Sandler.
Deleted Scenes:
Seven deleted scenes, nearly twenty minutes of footage, are included here.
Barry Sandler – Life of Crime:
Arrow Video orchestrated this twenty-two minute interview with screenwriter Barry Sandler, who discusses his early career, including in interesting anecdote concerning Raquel Welch and his 1972 script for Kansas City Bomber.
Rick Wakeman – Composing for Ken:
Composer Rick Wakeman sits for this half hour interview and discusses his working relationship with Ken Russell, which began on Lisztomania.
It’s a Lovely Life:
This music video was directed by Ken Russell and features Rick Wakeman and was produced exclusively by MTV for the promotion of Crimes of Passion.
Final Thoughts:
More thoughtful and less sleazy than audiences may have remembered, Crimes of Passion still plays like a film ahead of its time, unabashedly adult and bravely nonconforming.
Film Review: ★★★½/☆☆☆☆☆
Disc Review: ★★★★/☆☆☆☆☆