From what I understand, 1975’s adaptation of the Ira Levin novel The Stepford Wives actually made an honest attempt to avoid controversy. What did producers get in return for their efforts? They created controversy.
Let me explain a bit of history …
You see, it was the 1970’s, and any brainiac, academic, and/or historian will tell you that the 70’s was a time wherein people around the world were on a quest to find themselves. As an example, the wider U.S. population was still reeling with such paradigm-shifting events as The Vietnam War and Watergate, and there was this creeping suspicion that perhaps our country wasn’t the generational savior many had been raised to believe. The 1960’s had pushed an all-new culture movement to the forefront of collective consciousness, and the door swung open to the advent of the Sexual Revolution and Feminism. Women were – ahem – “leaving the home” to find themselves, and men would have to make the necessary adjustments to accept that their wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters were blazing trails all of their own.
So it was understandable that Levin’s novel published in 1972 tried to approach this ongoing ‘battle of the sexes’ from a position of artistic relevance, but – as one can imagine – there are always more than one side to every perspective. Though the Wives’ tome was already regarded as a ‘feminist horror satire’ (per Wikipedia.org), there seemed to be a rather wide scale about just what feminism – as a concept – might resemble both at the time and for the future. In its infancy, this wasn’t just a campaign about wages and representation: its biggest purveyors sought nothing less than a seat at every table – from education to business to politics – and they’d stop at nothing to see their demands acquiesced by whomever could assist in that process. Some might suggest that satire – a genre that’s traditionally misunderstood – disrespects every subject matter it touches by ever-so-lightly lampooning some core tenets in the process; and I think it was probably this sentiment that convinced Columbia Pictures to ‘get out ahead’ of activists, organizers, and other free thinkers who might see the resulting film as slanderous to their cause.
A February 26, 1975 article from the New York Times largely paints the special screening the studio scheduled with prominent feminists of the day as particularly disastrous, even highlighting the fact that the National Organization for Women vice president Betty Friedan walked out of it allegedly after only seeing a scant 10-minutes (of a nearly 2-hour picture). The reporter suggests that Friedan’s take was that Columbia Pictures and director Bryan Forbes were using The Stepford Wives to ‘hijack’ the women’s movement, apparently turning it into something that would instead be run by males over females. All I can say honestly as a response is that had the lady sat and watched the entirety of the flick then perhaps she might’ve fully understood that both the Levin novel and this resulting adaptation was on their side.
Let me explain a bit of history …
You see, it was the 1970’s, and any brainiac, academic, and/or historian will tell you that the 70’s was a time wherein people around the world were on a quest to find themselves. As an example, the wider U.S. population was still reeling with such paradigm-shifting events as The Vietnam War and Watergate, and there was this creeping suspicion that perhaps our country wasn’t the generational savior many had been raised to believe. The 1960’s had pushed an all-new culture movement to the forefront of collective consciousness, and the door swung open to the advent of the Sexual Revolution and Feminism. Women were – ahem – “leaving the home” to find themselves, and men would have to make the necessary adjustments to accept that their wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters were blazing trails all of their own.
So it was understandable that Levin’s novel published in 1972 tried to approach this ongoing ‘battle of the sexes’ from a position of artistic relevance, but – as one can imagine – there are always more than one side to every perspective. Though the Wives’ tome was already regarded as a ‘feminist horror satire’ (per Wikipedia.org), there seemed to be a rather wide scale about just what feminism – as a concept – might resemble both at the time and for the future. In its infancy, this wasn’t just a campaign about wages and representation: its biggest purveyors sought nothing less than a seat at every table – from education to business to politics – and they’d stop at nothing to see their demands acquiesced by whomever could assist in that process. Some might suggest that satire – a genre that’s traditionally misunderstood – disrespects every subject matter it touches by ever-so-lightly lampooning some core tenets in the process; and I think it was probably this sentiment that convinced Columbia Pictures to ‘get out ahead’ of activists, organizers, and other free thinkers who might see the resulting film as slanderous to their cause.
A February 26, 1975 article from the New York Times largely paints the special screening the studio scheduled with prominent feminists of the day as particularly disastrous, even highlighting the fact that the National Organization for Women vice president Betty Friedan walked out of it allegedly after only seeing a scant 10-minutes (of a nearly 2-hour picture). The reporter suggests that Friedan’s take was that Columbia Pictures and director Bryan Forbes were using The Stepford Wives to ‘hijack’ the women’s movement, apparently turning it into something that would instead be run by males over females. All I can say honestly as a response is that had the lady sat and watched the entirety of the flick then perhaps she might’ve fully understood that both the Levin novel and this resulting adaptation was on their side.
In fact, we’ve all seen this happen to art – especially films and television – when politics, social justice, or other concerns get injected into stories: some folks from whatever ideological angle get upset. Even as I write this review, I see the Information Superhighway overrun with perspective pieces about Lucasfilm’s latest debacle – The Acolyte, a streaming show that was entirely predicated on upending traditional roles in the Star Wars universe by making The Jedi into villains and crafting a coven of oppressed Lesbian witches to be the true victims of the galaxy far, far away – and it grows increasingly clear that neither side in this fight seek reconciliation. What these ‘young Turks’ don’t realize, however, is that this battle has probably been going on long before they were born and will exist until the days when our sun finally burns out.
The older I grow, the less authentic change I see.
Now that you know some history, let’s talk about why I think Wives is one of those projects that’s been misunderstood for decades and why it deserves a rediscovery in today’s troubled times.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Joanna Eberhart has come to the quaint little town of Stepford, Connecticut with her family, but soon discovers there lies a sinister truth in the all too perfect behavior of the female residents.”
1975’s The Stepford Wives opens quietly with a scene of big city gal Joanna Eberhart (played by Katharine Ross) sitting by a window in a mostly empty apartment gazing silently about. As the camera moves in and we along with it, she gives no significant indication of thought or movement, listlessly waiting for a story to begin. In those few quick seconds, director Bryan Forbes and screenwriter William Goldman have introduced her as a woman in search of herself, much like all women were in the 1970’s. Clearly, this Joanna has reached some crossroad in her life; and though we may lack the specifics it’s clear that she’s found herself isolated in this space, adrift while she waits for the universe to help her find where she truly belongs.
Downstairs, she joins her two children in the family station wagon.
A block away, an average looking fellow carries a naked female mannequin across the street. Curiously, this department store model wears a mask over its plastic frozen face – perhaps a telling reminder that identity doesn’t matter in a world consumed by carnal appetites – but the remainder of the female form is on full display for all – namely men – to ogle. Even Joanna’s children in the backseat take note, and they can’t help but share with their father Walter (Peter Masterson) when he climbs in behind the wheel that they just saw a man carrying a naked woman down the block.
“That’s why we’re moving to Stepford,” he says wryly.
The older I grow, the less authentic change I see.
Now that you know some history, let’s talk about why I think Wives is one of those projects that’s been misunderstood for decades and why it deserves a rediscovery in today’s troubled times.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Joanna Eberhart has come to the quaint little town of Stepford, Connecticut with her family, but soon discovers there lies a sinister truth in the all too perfect behavior of the female residents.”
1975’s The Stepford Wives opens quietly with a scene of big city gal Joanna Eberhart (played by Katharine Ross) sitting by a window in a mostly empty apartment gazing silently about. As the camera moves in and we along with it, she gives no significant indication of thought or movement, listlessly waiting for a story to begin. In those few quick seconds, director Bryan Forbes and screenwriter William Goldman have introduced her as a woman in search of herself, much like all women were in the 1970’s. Clearly, this Joanna has reached some crossroad in her life; and though we may lack the specifics it’s clear that she’s found herself isolated in this space, adrift while she waits for the universe to help her find where she truly belongs.
Downstairs, she joins her two children in the family station wagon.
A block away, an average looking fellow carries a naked female mannequin across the street. Curiously, this department store model wears a mask over its plastic frozen face – perhaps a telling reminder that identity doesn’t matter in a world consumed by carnal appetites – but the remainder of the female form is on full display for all – namely men – to ogle. Even Joanna’s children in the backseat take note, and they can’t help but share with their father Walter (Peter Masterson) when he climbs in behind the wheel that they just saw a man carrying a naked woman down the block.
“That’s why we’re moving to Stepford,” he says wryly.
In any other film, it would be a harmless moment, one that might produce a chuckle or two, but The Stepford Wives is no ordinary film. Based on the Levin novel, it was clearly a product of its era, one laced with an undercurrent of sexual energy being redirected in surprising directions by both genders. Roles in the home and abroad were changing, and Wives reflects on how these differences affected both its men and women in their struggle to come to grips in this new reality … although, yes, it’s easy to concede that the men ‘get off easy’ with the realization that the perfect wife is only possible any longer with the total loss of her individuality.
Unless I missed it, Goldman’s script gives no purely definitive explanation for why the Eberharts abandon the big city for life in the idyllic small-town haven of Stepford. There are suggestions tied to Walter’s job (he’s overworked) and Joanna’s dissatisfaction with her lack of success as a photographer (it’s interesting that she doesn’t find her passion until she’s on the brink of losing her mortal soul); but such ambiguousness was possibly also meant to be in keeping with the times. When society herks and jerks progressively forward, it produces anxiety in us all, so just knowing that this marital relationship is in crisis works perfectly for what follows.
Because Walter remains consumed with finding a way to both fit in socially and professionally, it’s understandable why he misses all of the troubled indications that Joanna picks up on around town. Why are these women so obsessed with household chores and raising children? How is it that they have perfect hair, perfect clothes, and perfect bodies when all they seemingly do is clean? Why do they seemingly exist to do little more than serve every conceivable need – sexual or otherwise – of their chosen mates? Could it be that they’ve somehow been brainwashed? Could there have been some mind-altering chemical inserted into the water supply? How is it that all of these lives seeming coexist to make male fantasies the ultimate reality?
Eventually, Joanna meets and befriends Bobby (Paula Prentiss), another restless newcomer to Stepford who, too, comes from the big city, likes to live life a bit on the wild side, and is equally smitten with her own personal happiness being weighed in the complex marital equation. Together, they set out to introduce a measure of modernity to the city’s long-standing traditions; and yet at each and every opportunity the old guard of Stepford wives rejects such advances. These ladies would rather swap laundry secrets than burn their bras, and it isn’t long into their process that Joanna and Bobby suspect something dire must be afoot. Certainly, no Earthly place can be like this, and they’ll stop at nothing to expose Stepford for the Hell they find it to be.
Granted, the story doesn’t stop there, and a reasonable person could argue that Stepford never really ended even after the screen faded to black. For it’s then that the true dialogue begins – the incessant debates about feminism, misogyny, gender, the Walt Disney Company’s hinted-at involvement, and maybe robotics or artificial intelligence – and I suspect this is why the film took some time to find its footing amongst cineastes and grow to have the alleged cult following it maintains to this day. Some of this might even be owed to the fact that – as a product – it’s a flick in short supply (it may have only been issued on home video once, from what I can find, and I presently can’t find it available for streaming); and the controversy surrounding its original U.S. release is still talked about it some internet circles even today.
Ideologies aside, there’s a great deal to enjoy in the film.
Unless I missed it, Goldman’s script gives no purely definitive explanation for why the Eberharts abandon the big city for life in the idyllic small-town haven of Stepford. There are suggestions tied to Walter’s job (he’s overworked) and Joanna’s dissatisfaction with her lack of success as a photographer (it’s interesting that she doesn’t find her passion until she’s on the brink of losing her mortal soul); but such ambiguousness was possibly also meant to be in keeping with the times. When society herks and jerks progressively forward, it produces anxiety in us all, so just knowing that this marital relationship is in crisis works perfectly for what follows.
Because Walter remains consumed with finding a way to both fit in socially and professionally, it’s understandable why he misses all of the troubled indications that Joanna picks up on around town. Why are these women so obsessed with household chores and raising children? How is it that they have perfect hair, perfect clothes, and perfect bodies when all they seemingly do is clean? Why do they seemingly exist to do little more than serve every conceivable need – sexual or otherwise – of their chosen mates? Could it be that they’ve somehow been brainwashed? Could there have been some mind-altering chemical inserted into the water supply? How is it that all of these lives seeming coexist to make male fantasies the ultimate reality?
Eventually, Joanna meets and befriends Bobby (Paula Prentiss), another restless newcomer to Stepford who, too, comes from the big city, likes to live life a bit on the wild side, and is equally smitten with her own personal happiness being weighed in the complex marital equation. Together, they set out to introduce a measure of modernity to the city’s long-standing traditions; and yet at each and every opportunity the old guard of Stepford wives rejects such advances. These ladies would rather swap laundry secrets than burn their bras, and it isn’t long into their process that Joanna and Bobby suspect something dire must be afoot. Certainly, no Earthly place can be like this, and they’ll stop at nothing to expose Stepford for the Hell they find it to be.
Granted, the story doesn’t stop there, and a reasonable person could argue that Stepford never really ended even after the screen faded to black. For it’s then that the true dialogue begins – the incessant debates about feminism, misogyny, gender, the Walt Disney Company’s hinted-at involvement, and maybe robotics or artificial intelligence – and I suspect this is why the film took some time to find its footing amongst cineastes and grow to have the alleged cult following it maintains to this day. Some of this might even be owed to the fact that – as a product – it’s a flick in short supply (it may have only been issued on home video once, from what I can find, and I presently can’t find it available for streaming); and the controversy surrounding its original U.S. release is still talked about it some internet circles even today.
Ideologies aside, there’s a great deal to enjoy in the film.
Prentiss is a delight, delivering heartily on the prospects of the modern woman whose impulses might change with the flip of a coin. As the picture’s only male who gets respectable screen time, Masterson is good; he handles the task of slowly succumbing to Stepford’s male-dominated status quo despite indications that he only wants what’s best for his wife and kids. But it’s Ross who delivers a fabulous performance from her somewhat languid intro to her controlled but voluptuously poised and perfect supermarket appearance, bookended scenes that could keep academics pontificating for hours on end. Alongside the very solid yet subversive visuals of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers remake (circa 1978), Wives dishes a great and memorable late-breaking reveal when – ahem – Joanna meets RoboJoanna in the makeshift bedroom constructed within the Stepford Men’s Society building. Their eyes meet – one set aghast and one set robotically vacant – and audiences couldn’t escape the truth that these two visions of loveliness couldn’t possibly exist in the same universe.
In true Levin fashion, they don’t.
The Stepford Wives (1975) was produced by Palomar Pictures International and Fadsin Cinema Associates. DVD distribution (for this particular release) was handled by the fine folks at Paramount Pictures. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds for this 2004 home video release to be pretty good: there’s a great deal of grain to some sequences, so I’d be the first to suggest that the project is long past-due for a remastering. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a roughly 20-minute set of interviews with Forbes, producer Edgar J. Scherick, and the main cast members. (Yes, it’s light, but it’s still good.) There are also some trailers and radio spots for folks who like that sort of thing.
Highest Recommendation Possible.
I have a vague recollection of seeing this one originally on the silver screen at the drive-in theater of my youth, but now that I’m older I think that The Stepford Wives is one of the great subversive SciFi experiences of the 1970’s. I think that it was unnecessarily trashed by activists of its day who maybe didn’t quite understand that both the film and the original source material were on their side politically; and maybe if they had seen past their own shortsightedness the project could’ve resonated and helped their cause. Rarely do controversial ideas like this translate as effortlessly to the screen; and – if anything – I could suggest that this cut goes on a bit longer than was narratively necessary. It really makes its point with possibly ten or fifteen minutes to spare, so a nip and a tuck here and there might’ve made for a better shape … or is that the latent misogynist in me?
In the interests of fairness, I’m beholden to no one for this review of The Stepford Wives (1975) as I purchased this physical media for my own personal collection.
-- EZ
In true Levin fashion, they don’t.
The Stepford Wives (1975) was produced by Palomar Pictures International and Fadsin Cinema Associates. DVD distribution (for this particular release) was handled by the fine folks at Paramount Pictures. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds for this 2004 home video release to be pretty good: there’s a great deal of grain to some sequences, so I’d be the first to suggest that the project is long past-due for a remastering. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a roughly 20-minute set of interviews with Forbes, producer Edgar J. Scherick, and the main cast members. (Yes, it’s light, but it’s still good.) There are also some trailers and radio spots for folks who like that sort of thing.
Highest Recommendation Possible.
I have a vague recollection of seeing this one originally on the silver screen at the drive-in theater of my youth, but now that I’m older I think that The Stepford Wives is one of the great subversive SciFi experiences of the 1970’s. I think that it was unnecessarily trashed by activists of its day who maybe didn’t quite understand that both the film and the original source material were on their side politically; and maybe if they had seen past their own shortsightedness the project could’ve resonated and helped their cause. Rarely do controversial ideas like this translate as effortlessly to the screen; and – if anything – I could suggest that this cut goes on a bit longer than was narratively necessary. It really makes its point with possibly ten or fifteen minutes to spare, so a nip and a tuck here and there might’ve made for a better shape … or is that the latent misogynist in me?
In the interests of fairness, I’m beholden to no one for this review of The Stepford Wives (1975) as I purchased this physical media for my own personal collection.
-- EZ
RSS Feed