“How do describe to your child she was born to be hurt?†Asks Annie Johnson (Juanita Moore) in John Sirk’ last Hollywood melodrama, a film that highlights Sirk’ capacity to turn matinee fare into cutting edge social commentary. Of course he approaches it via artifice, via near hysterical emotions, and intense swells of both drama and music, yet this freakishly heightened experience only adds to the appeal. In Imitation of Life Sirk has extended and transformed the form, utilising melodrama as the vehicle to explore race relations. Annie is black, a single mother and homeless when she encounters the white wannabe actress Lora Meredith (Lana Turner) and her daughter Susie (Sandra Dee). Taking in both Annie and her troubled daughter Sarah Jane (Susan Kohner) the four become a family of sorts, with Meredith becoming a famous theatre star and Annie her maid. It’s a film about disconnection and ambition, as Meredith neglects her daughter, her friendship with Annie, even her on again off again love affair with the studly Steve Archer (John Gavin) in a relentless drive for fame. Yet it’s really about Annie’ daughter Sarah Jane, pale skinned she attempts to pass for white, refusing to acknowledge her roots, refusing to be a second class citizen in late fifties America. There’ some incredibly powerful stuff in here, the tension between Annie and her daughter as well as the bizarre almost pedophiliac relationship that develops between the studly photographer Steve Archer and Meredith’s freakishly saccharine daughter. The final funeral is an artistic triumph, yet after this Sirk shut up shop and moved on. Make no mistake this is an incredible film.
Extra Features:
Madman have gone all out with a three disc set, including the original 1934 JM Stahl film which is closer to the original novel, an audio commentary from a Melbourne Uni Associate Professor, novelist Sam Staggs in a doco Born to be Hurt informing us that everyone thought Lana Tuner was through in Hollywood as her daughter had only recently been on trial for killing Turner’ gangster boyfriend. There’ an insert essay from another academic and a profile on Lana Turner.
Bob Baker Fish
