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BARRYMORE? BARRY-LESS!

As well as everyone should be, I am a huge fan of the Maysles’ classic documentary Grey Gardens. It was a brilliant, unflinching peep-hole view into the world of the insane elite, focusing on “Big Edie” and “Little Edie” Bouvier Beale, socialites, eccentrics and slum-dwellers who also happened to be relatives of Jackie O. The exploration of their world was so thick and rich and meaty that you could smell the stink of the dilapidated mansion oozing off your TV screen and onto your floor. If you had a cat, you’d of scolded it for pissing on your new rug! It is 3-D for your nostrils.

And while that doc was great at capturing their lives as they were happening at the time, their past was a total mystery, covered in more shroud than Little Edie’s alopecia-ed head. We got little subtle snippets of feuds and lost loves, regrets and prideful reminders, but little to nothing to fill in the blanks. Surely a movie about those stories would be needed for fans, right? A little history lesson into this cachet of pop culture lore. So, over 30 years later, we get the extremely hit-or-miss Grey Gardens movie, from HBO. But, after viewing it, was it really all that needed?

Sure. I’ll say that, for about half the movie, it really does its job. We learn about all the tacit in-fighting and snide manipulation that went on between Big Edie and Little Edie, and the sickness of passive aggressive co-dependency that flourished so much in their relationship that it might as well have been the third character in the room. As they slide into poverty, they slide into dementia and it is quite the ride! Too bad the second half has to go and become a rather tepid near-parody remake of the documentary, with whole scenes reenacted verbatim, as if part of some dinner theater variety show.

Much of the blame lies with the insufferable Drew Barrymore. Jessica Lange, per usual, is an accomplished actress who got so “into” the character that you felt it was no longer her, she disappears completely and deserves every accolade heaped upon her. With Barrymore, on the other hand, well…you always know you’re watching Barrymore. The woman is a God-awful actress who you never “believe” is Little Edie—it’s as through her real-life fragile ego won’t allow her to “ugly” herself up enough to get into the character. She’ll barely quit talking out the side of her mouth and the mugging is non-stop. So many better actresses could have essayed this role…it’s quite a sad waste, really.

(Special features include a commentary and a short comparison of this film with the ‘75 documentary.)

The sad thing about the whole affair, though, is this: how many people, who had never seen the Grey Gardens doc, won’t venture out to view it now because they feel that they know the whole story and that’s all she wrote? Even though this does fill in some of the blank spots, you need to see the Maysles’ Grey Gardens, like, right now. It is a seminal piece of American filmmaking. If anything, this movie version should be nothing more than a Netflixed companion afterthought.

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