A Face in the Crowd

This was the first movie I've seen with Andy Griffith. That's surprising to me. Anyway, I liked both the short story and the movie. One thing that really stood out to me when comparing the two was the relationship between Marsha and Lonesome. In the book, they seemed much less a couple. Marsha seemed a lot more resistant in the book. The movie didn't express that in the same way. Another thing that caught my attention was the way in which Lonesome is discovered and named. It changes the status of Marsha's character because in the movie, she is the one who finds him in a jail and gives him his catchy name.
When I was reading, I was picturing in my head Ray Romano's older brother, Robert, as Lonesome. Andy Griffith doesn't look much the same, but I definitely bought the role. Andy Griffith's character redefined my mental image of Lonesome. Griffiths HAW HAW was also different from the haw haw I had imagined while reading the story, but it worked well nonetheless.
Prof. Newman mentioned this being a dark role for Griffith, and after watching the film, I would agree. I think the character of Lonesome is significantly darker in the film than in the story. The film really focuses on his will of control and his growing insanity. While those traits are definitely present in the story, they are exaggerated and magnified in the film.

Anyway, I liked it. Good reading. Good watching. Good story. Good acting. Good characters. Good plot. Good stuff. Good produce. Cool beans. String beans. 7 bean salad. Chunky soup. Thick hearty stews. Bread bowls. Abnormally large pepper shaker. Fine wines. Live Jazz. Good service. Benevolent owner. Olive Garden.

A Face in the Crowd

A Face in the Crowd raised a question about the concept of time when thinking about different forms of storytelling. The very “present” telling of A Face in the Crowd seems very contradictory to the memorandum that is The Arkansas Traveler. I think the aspect of the presentation of time is very important when considering the transfer from literature to film. With literature the audience can read it and reflect on the constant changing motions of the characters. In film the audience is swept along with the pace of the film and reflection only comes after its completion (unless you leave for a snack break.

I think this could be the main reason that so many adaptations are considered “failures.” The structure of A Face of the Crowd calls for a consistent following of Lonesome Rhodes as dynamic personality. In the short story, Rhodes’s personality is more explained as a fact rather than a developing point. Kazan uses an adaptation of time with this film to explain the rise of the man. Kazan lets us see Rhodes in his element. This agrees more with the forward moving nature of the cinema. It lets us see a man as he is, rather than what he has become.

Once more this points to how when switching forms the entire foundation of the plot must be altered if one wants to make the adaptation “faithful.” Because the form must be changed in A Face in the Crowd to sustain the interest in Lonesome Rhodes and his appeal to the masses. That appeal seems as what was made as the essence of the story. Because that was recognized Kazan was willing to restructure the entire tone of the piece in favor of this. This seems to be a important key to adapting a story. Many of the pieces we have seen thus far have just been a recreation through a visual medium. I don’t think, however, that recreation works when considering the element of time perception in the two different forms. Perhaps change is better when considering remaking a story.

Where Have All the Flower (or Socialist Folk Singers) Gone

First off, I want to comment on how much I enjoy the film Face in the Crowd. This has been my third or fourth time viewing it, and I'm surprised at how it never seems to grow stale. I'm also glad to get a chance to finally read the story from which it came. I've held a kind of ambivalent attitude towards Budd Schulberg's work. While part of me thinks it's great--What Makes Sammy Run?, On the Waterfront, A Face in the Crowd, etc.--part of me wonders if there are other factors, besides Schulberg, at work in what makes them great, especially his films: Kazan, Griffith, Brando, etc. There's also the fact that he named names to HUAC and was largely unapologetic about doing so.

One thing that makes me a little uneasy about the film is its use of a folk singer as the right wing demagogue par excellence. When I think about music associated with the right wing, folk music is not something that comes to mind. When I think of the latter, I envision Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, and others who are usually associated with (often extreme) left wing politics. The only type of music similar enough to folk that could be considered somewhat right wing is country music. But even country musicians (at least some of them) often have political associations that could be interpreted as leftist--I'm thinking of Hank Williams Sr. song Hey Joe as a response to Mccarthyism. So I wonder if Schulberg's use of a folk singer as representative of the common man/woman is more of a fear on his part of the common masses. This is something Raymond Williams addresses in Culture and Society: a fear of allowing the masses (the unruly mob) their own means of self-determination. This is also at the heart of the debate of fictional representations of labor: do proletarian writers of whatever decade stand outside the workers as a pseudo-interested observer or are they attempting to rise with them. Perhaps the film and story, then, despite their many merits, suffer from from this potentially ungrounded fear on Schulberg's part.

one face of eve

i, like rachael, really regretted the loss of the witty, in control, female narrative from the novella version. i did also enjoy the film for itself, however–but, as usual, for telling a different story. remember that filmmaker from hutcheon who retold the story of the cuban political hero (i can't find/remember the exact reference now) because he felt that the story had been misrepresented? well even though i suppose this is fiction, the film's inversion of lonesome rhodes' guilt to marcia's guilt felt like that kind of adaptation. it wasn't just a matter of telling a different story–it was more a matter of saying "no, you've gotten this wrong; this is how it happened," this time making marcia more fully responsible for rhodes' behavior. a face in the crowd went from being a story of mutual blame back to blaming marcia as biblical eve for her 'original sin' of introducing the knowledge of fame to lonesome.

thus marcia moves from being this incredibly together, strong woman whom i'm pretty sure we all agree with when she tells lonesome to get out of her life, to this crazed, hands-clutching-her-face, edvard munch's "the scream" type of persecuted person who is suddenly supposed to be responsible for the antics of a grown man.

this theme is developed from the beginning by first portraying lonesome as an innocent, with no desire to want to tell anybody what to do about anything, and who slowly becomes power-crazed and selfish because of the role he is forced into by marcia and by the industry.

the end of the film, however, steps back from fully blaming eve for the fall of adam, in mel miller's final declamation to lonesome. he flatly remarks that audience's memories are short, and eventually someone will "give him another go" on a much cheaper venue, but that whatever he has from now on, it "won't be the same." once man has sinned, he has forever fallen…even in the entertainment industry.

as marcia and mel stand at the bottom of apartment and look up, listening to lonesome scream threats about suicide, mel again reinforces lonesome's culpability for himself by telling marcia not to listen to his rants. finally, she nods and gets into a taxi never to see him again. i was so glad that they didn't take this out of the movie.

A Face In the Crowd

So - I still have to finish the story, but I want to type this first.

I think that the film version really showed not only the rise and fall of a celebrity, but also the audience reaction - how an audience can build someone up and tear them down. Because in the end Lonesome Rhodes was really a sad character; I wish I'd seen whether or not he jumped, because then I could've judged in the end if he was sincere or not. I think - for better or for worse - that Andy Griffith really gave himself to the character. I know the laugh was a bit much, but it definitely wasn't the performance that I expected from him; it was better than I expected.

Face in the Mirror

One of the primary changes that A Face in the Crowd makes to the short story “Your Arkansas Traveler” is the insertion of an audience. The story could not include outsider reactions to the radio or television show, of course, because it was tied down to a first person narrator. Therefore, we got a cynical view of Lonesome Rhodes as a deceitful drunk. Of course, Lonesome is a deceitful drunk, but not to his adoring fans across the country, only to the less than innocent people producing his show and seeing his horrible personal life. The story does an admirable job of exposing the steamy underbelly of the entertainment industry, but in doing that it reduces the audience into an unthinking mob. Marcia admires Lonesome's charisma as much as it repulses her in the story. The film, on the other hand, provides a glimpse into the adoring crowds as they see themselves in Lonesome's “down home” charm.

The insertion of an audience reveals two elements of the world of marketing and media: the need for people to connect to personalities represented on TV and the radio, as well as the danger of that identification. The early shots of Lonesome “talking to” isolated housewives as they work in their homes. His sympathy towards and insight into domestic labor draws the isolated women into a community with Lonesome. Of course, his name connects with lonely people across the country, while his “grass roots wisdom” gives people a sense of authenticity. In the increasingly commercial culture of the 1950s, the audience seems desperate to connect with anything authentic, even if it is used to sell them something.

Even though the film does give a face to the audience searching for meaning and human connection, it still reduces Lonesome fans into a mob. Because Lonesome lacks any actual authenticity, he is able to play them like his guitar, manipulating their trust to increase sales and do his own dirty work. By seeing themselves in the television, people fall prey to the machinations of the advertising industry.

From Wyoming to Arkansas

I have to say, I really enjoyed the short story. I thought it was great to have a witty, female narrative. Unfortunately, I'm not having the same response to the film. One of the best aspects of the story is the Margy character and how she is the one person to not be bowled over by Lonesome's charm. She is a "northern intellectual" (if that's what you want to call it) and she finds his folksome nature fake. She has a sharp wit reminiscent of Rosalind Russell in "His Girl Friday." But this is completely lost in the film. The first setting is changed from Wyoming to Arkansas, which loses the north-south dynamic between the two. One of the weirdest changes to me is that she goes looking for him. That is the exact opposite of the story. What makes the story work is that he is dropped in her lap, whether she likes it not, and she has to content with what this means for her life. Changing her demeanor completely changes the dynamic. She's not supposed to sleep with him! The unconsummated love furthers that awkward relationship, but these changes really seem to ruin it.

P.S. Having said all that. I really liked the film, on its own, when not considered as an adaptation. The last scene was especially chilling and, I think, made up (some what) for the lack of tension between the two characters in the beginning of the film.

Lonesome Rhodes

After reading the short story, the mental image I have for Lonesome is Raymond's brother Robert from Everybody Loves Raymond. I'll be happier after the screening, because right now it's impossible for me to picture Lonesome as anybody but Robert, Raymond's brother.

Mahty

Just realized I forgot to post something after Tuesdays screening of Marty. My first thoughts after watching the film were that it was surprisingly faithful to the script while somehow managing a feature film length. The dialogue was very close, minus the ramblings of Marty. They filled it out a lot by taking time to set the scene. For example, the amount of time it takes for Marty to bring the dog home from the dance. That was one instance where a lot of additional dialogue was written in. The suicide dialogue was a bit of a surprise. This film was very close to the images I had in my mind, with the exception of the dog being not as doggish as I had imagined. I did notice, however, that the characters got on my nerves a little bit at times during the film, which made it harder for me to feel for them. Marty talked too much and Clara talked too little. She also had a hard-to-define quality about her that disturbed me slightly. In any case I found it harder to feel sorry for them in the film than in the screenplay.

selling out...or speaking to the audience?

maybe i'm just now obsessed with relating everything back to a gray flannel suit, but once again i felt as if, here was another fairly original, creative text which was reshaped into the same dominant middle-class narrative about trying to move up in the world, that we saw in give us this day. marty not only wants to move into an apartment, but now he wants to buy up the butcher shop, goes on a long soliloquy about how he always wanted to go to college and never got to, and finally brings in some mediocre psychology by commenting on his and clara's fear of "being on their own" and learning to move out from under the yoke of their parents.

now, i'm not necessarily judging the movie as bad (but am i right in thinking "gene kelly was married to her?") but maybe this is just part of what drew commented on earlier as the necessary adherence to the demands of the audience. and i suppose there's no saying that paddy chayefsky wasn't thrilled to be able to develop marty into a longer storyline–perhaps feeling that he could explore even more than just "latent homosexuality."

finally, i allow this: that the story is sweet. and that counts for something. i don't just mean "i liked it" because obviously that would not be a profound thing to say for a graduate student. i mean that chayefsky maintained a certain sincere warmth in marty's character and in his 'sticking to his guns,' as it were, to ask out clara again despite his friends' disapproval. his simple language, and his homeliness, and his mass on sundays with mother may be cheesy, but they're also endearing and something many audiences–both of the fifties and today–can identify with.

so i guess i'm saying i shouldn't fall into the snob category of chiding chayefsky for creating a film that is so much of the genre of fifties's middle class culture. after all, i've watched and loved virtually the same movie in about sixty different forms: twenty-seven dresses, bride wars, made of honor, the wedding date, princess diaries, etc.–and what will my kids say to me about that? exactly.

Womanly Virtue(?)

It was obvious that additional material would be necessary to make the story feature film length, but I was intrigued by what they chose to elongate. Much detail was added to the relationship between Marty and Clara in-between them meeting at the Waverly (now Stardust) ballroom and them returning to Marty's home. There was much more detail by ways of them walking down the street, and stopping for a meal at a diner. It seems to me that the most obvious reasons for such additions was the quickness of Marty meeting a girl to bringing her back to his house. When he tries to kiss her while in the kitchen, he states that he wasn't going to try anything (especially since his mother would soon be home), but what was his motivation for bringing her then?(this could also just be 21st century cynicism of male-female relationships)

In addition, while the movie may attempt to heighten Clara's virtue, the virtue of Marty's mother tasks a small assault. When waiting to go into Sunday Mass, the Mother follows much of the same dialogue as the teleplay, telling Marty that Clara doesn't look like a nice girl (mostly because she's "ugly" and not Italian). in the teleplay, when Marty excuses himself to go into church, the mother has a moment of self-reflection as she says to the audience that based on her harsh words, she is becoming as based as her sister. This moment is left out of the film. Without this one sentence, does the mother (and audience) lose this moment of regret and self-awareness? Does her womanly virtue as a mother take a hit, as she schemes against her son's desires for companionship?

Threats to the Family

I am intrigued by the conversation about motherhood and care giving within Chayefsky's Marty. Women are primarily portrayed as caring and highly put upon, while men (especially unmarried bachelors) live off the work of women. Largely, the women within the film express genuine emotions and live within a realistic—if somewhat sad—world. However, no positive female characters are shown to interact outside of the domestic or caring realm. Even Clara works as a school teacher, mentioning her students in a loving fashion and refusing to take an administrative role in order to remain with “her children.” The script ultimately reduces all real conflict to domestic drama. While Marty does experience certain ups and downs regarding his social class and job, the public world of work represents the potential for expansion and growth. Instead, real conflict originates within the world of family, and must therefore be resolved there.

Women never really escape the home. The dialogue between Marty's mother and aunt bemoaning the horrors of old age for women focuses on the loss of work. Nowhere in the script or the film do women have options to occupy their time other than caring for others. When Clara offers the idea of Marty's aunt getting a hobby, Marty's mother dismisses it as idealistic and overly academic. Men have options outside of the home, but Chayefsky portrays these options as masturbatory and expressions of “middle class latent homosexuality.” Despite the trouble and stress that comes from marriage and family, Marty sees the family as the ultimate site for happiness.

However, Chayefsky seems to see “latent homosexuality” as a major threat to the nuclear family's stability and happiness. The film adaptation certainly accented the threat that Angie (who's name is suspiciously feminine) posed to Marty's future. His attempt to hunt down and sabotage Marty and Clara's relationship almost trumps Marty's mother's disapproval. Heteronormativity is endangered by even heterosexuals, in Chayefsky's world, in a ways that makes it surprising that nuclear families ever form.

Marty and the Antagonistic Old

I’ve seen the film version of Marty before so it was interesting to read the teleplay. It will also be interesting to watch a scene from the television movie, especially since Rod Steiger plays Marty—I’ve never seen anything with Rod Steiger in which he plays a character as likable as Marty.

One thing that the teleplay, the t.v. movie (at least I’m guessing), and the film share is their somewhat negative portrayal of the older generation. This older generation, primarily comprised in the narrative of Marty’s mother and aunt, is in many ways portrayed as an antagonist to Marty’s generation. Interestingly enough, it is approximately the same generation as Geremio and Annuziata in Christ in Concrete. They are a generation that has experienced the various economic hardships the working class faced during the early decades of the twentieth century culminating in the Great Depression. But the Great Depression is something Marty’s generation faced as well. If he’s thirty-six in the play, and it is set in 1953, he would have been about twenty during the mid 1930s. So why has his generation been able to cope with and benefit from the post-war boom—and the economic, political, and cultural changes that it brought—while his parent’s generation has refused many of them? Old age? The fear of change? Economic uncertainty among an older generation that’s unable to work and must depend on their children or possibly Social Security, which was passed during the Depression? In his essay printed after the teleplay, Chayefsky seems to single Marty’s generation as its own antagonist. But he doesn’t mention the antagonistic part that the older generation plays. Maybe this is something we can talk more about during class.

Adaptation as Bricklaying

I thought Give Us This Day to be an excellent adaptation of Christ in Concrete. It attempts to address many of the same potential problems the class attached to the novel, especially the overly romanticized characterization of Geremio. Instead of portraying him as literally a Christ buried in concrete, the film offers us a more well-rounded portrayal of him: his character faults and strengths, including how they interact with a socio-economic environment that only cares for the laborer one out of every three weeks, when he's needed to lay bricks, and only pays up when he's dead. We also get a potentially more rounded characterization of Annuziata as well. She's no longer a Jesu-nut but periodically drinks wine before the sun goes down and is primarily interested in owning property.

This is not to say that I liked the film better than the novel or that I liked the film's characters better than those of the novel. Different mediums/forms offer different ways of portraying subject-matter, and not necessarily the same subject-matter either. The film is interested in the family's struggle to buy a house, whereas the book is interested in the family's struggle to survive. They also deal with different primary characters--the film with Geremio and Annuziata and the novel with Paul and to a lesser extent Annuziata. Perhaps this is what makes the film so successful as an adaptation: not trying to replicate the novel's narrative but explore unresolved aspects of it, adding its own brick to those of the novel.

Give Us This Day

Give Us This Day presented a movie based on, but very different from the book Christ in Concrete. The focus shifted entirely from a boy and his struggles to provide for the family, to the father of the household and his story before the boy ever had to take over the family business. In my opinion this lost all the sentimentality and intensity of the novel. Geremio’s struggle in the film did not nearly seem as pressurized at that of his family in the book. He only has three children, becomes foreman, and only has to worry about his promise of buying his wife a home. Geremio’s character in the film is not nearly as likeable as his own wife is rather indifferent to his death, whereas in the novel her devastation from his death is heartbreaking.

I was curious as to why they would make such dramatic distinctions between these too. The story very obviously seemed to lie with Paul, even for the film. However, I think an important thing to remember is that a film must call for an audience. In 1949, much like the Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, a large audience was the workingman and the struggle to survive in an indifferent world. Three children appeals much more to the average American workingman than eight would. Furthermore the need of a mistress and the stresses between home and working life are highlighted because these are the stresses men of the time feel.

In the novel Pietro di Donato was simply trying to relate experiences he had as a boy and the culture and hardships he had to endure. The audience was not as obvious, save for those who experienced similar tragedies during the Depression. Yet films need to relate to something. In this case they chose the working class man. In such a way, the filmmakers needed to abandon Donato’s voice and experience in favor of relation to an audience.

Mustache

This was probably my favorite movie we've watched so far. At least for me it did a terrific job conveying a really bleak mood. Although certain parts had some theaterish acting, the emotions were communicated to me very well. I felt a lot of tension, anxiety, and sympathy for both the mustache man and the salt wife. The search for "something more" was way more apparent in this movie than in the Man in the Grey Flannel Suit film. It seemed to portray the theme of the flannel man book more accurately than the flannel man film did. I felt sorry for the characters and the concrete drowning was especially gruesome. The character seemed to be arcing towards a positive ending, and then everything goes wrong. I like that because it avoids the common tendency of throwing the events of the entire story out for a clean, all-loose-ends-tied ending. I hardly recognized the mustache man when he was shown without a mustache.

A Mistress, Really?

I haven't seen the film yet, but from what Agatha told me, I don't think I will like it. Geremio has a mistress? I don't understand this alteration because it changes everything about Geremio and Annunziata. Annunziata, and through her pain, Paul dotes on the memory of Geremio, even going to visit the psychic to makes sure he isn't in any pain on the other side. Can this strong connection withhold such a schism as infidelity? I wonder if this would change Annunziata's belief in her husband and strong connection to God. Then again, this all depends on Annunziata being aware of the affair.

an italian gray flannel suit is still a flannel suit

i didn't just feel that the movie switched around elements of the novel–in doing so, and in refocusing the story on geremio's life and on his relationship with annunziata, it also sent an entirely different message. instead of paul's struggle with poverty itself, we are presented, in the first scene of the film, with geremio's breakdown over his lack of purpose, his inadequacy. it's not that poverty isn't there, but rather more that the poverty is a sign of his unfulfilled longings, the "something more" that he expected to have in his life because of his marriage and children, but which he doesn't seem to have. is this starting to sound familiar yet?

whereas the geremio of the novel is aware of the unsafe conditions of the demolition project and tries to stop it, the film suggests that where geremio really begins to go wrong is when he submits to the needs of having a job during the Depression and compromises his own workers' safety. ok, yes, it is the Depression, but are we getting warmer now?

then, the whole conflict in the film centers around geremio's struggle against moving up in the world and giving up his identity as an honest laborer in order for him to be able to afford the house he promised annunziata. hmmm where have we heard that plot before? having a house is, in fact, the ultimate representation of happiness for annunziata, which she qualifies at the end of the film by saying that geremio has "at last bought [them] a house."

when geremio dies in the novel, i believed his death was supposed to represent that of Christ–that geremio's death was a sacrifice to the building of new york city–or to capitalism, if you will (i guess that questions how worthy or holy we want to call that sacrifice). the death of geremio in the film, however, is more like that of the mortal sinner who is hoping desperately that someone else out there has already made the sacrifice so that they can save him. from what? the evil of capitalism, maybe.

Christ in Concrete

So about an hour into the movie, I was wondering if Geremio was going to die. That's probably insensitive, but I was surprised that the movie was so different from the book. It wasn't that different though; things were just compressed and moved around. Actually, the movie was pretty much backwards from the book. It kind of reminded me of I Remember Mama in that respect, just because the stories were compressed into the play and then into the movie.

Rome-ance

Gregory Peck returns to his Roman Holiday in the film adaptation of The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, and it’s just as romantic. Despite the horrors of war, Tom manages to find a picturesque landscape full of exotic women in both versions, though. The exotic nature of Rome in both versions shows American fascination with Europe following World War Two, however the film glosses over some of the grittier facts. The novel allows Maria to express how her family dies in front of her eyes, while their death is simply mentioned in the film. Additionally, the villa in the movie is partially destroyed, but only to give a lovely view of a beautiful town; it does not show Tom breaking apart a piano and destroying the riches of the house to build a fire.

However, in both versions Rome acts as a sort of time out of time--not only an escape from the war, but an escape from life itself. Tom and Maria live totally contingently, with no social obligations. In contrast, Tom’s life with Betsy is fraught with concerns over money and children. Both versions also seem to allow Tom this period of romance outside of marriage, giving men the space to sow their wild oats without major repercussions. Tom’s experience in Rome is totally outside of his peace time life; even when he decides to “do the right thing” and help out Maria and his son he never meets or speaks to them, delegating that responsibility to Judge Bernstein instead. Rome becomes almost a mythical place in the novel and the movie. It is essential that it does not pose any actual threat to the nuclear family of the 1950s, instead it proves Tom’s virility and provides a needed respite from the horrors of war.

family matters

i am not sure about the casting choices for the film version of the man in the gray flannel suit. it seems impossible to be gregory peck and be hesitant, stressed, and fearful of economic impotence–basically everything that tom rath is in the novel, and gregory peck is not. instead, he remakes tom rath into a suave, forthright, albeit emotional man, and yet so not emotional; rather, peck's emotions are all noble and contained, like the pinnacle of what american manhood is supposed to be.

that's what the whole film felt like for me, however: an ennobling of the struggle for meaning that sloan wilson almost makes seem a bit pathetic, or at least unattainable, but the film makes into a heroic affirmation of 'real' values.

family is what ultimately comes to represent the most valuable entity in the world of the film. i think the novel eventually comes to that conclusion too, in tom and betsy's focus on creating a healthier school environment for their children. but the film really pushes this image immediately the film begins: we see the cute antics of the rath children, the tv time, the temper tantrums before bed, the dog, the fatal drama of chicken pox. sentimental music plays in the background, reinforcing the warmth and connectedness of the home and the family. and by the end of the film, instead of tom's obsessive mental harping on maria, he says to betsy that he has put maria in the past and only thinks of the welfare of his child (if we believe him). finally, the part of the novel in which hopkins invites tom to join him on the business trip in california is moved to the very end of the film, to allow tom to actively reject "success" over the time he wants to spend with his family.

hopkins also expresses more bitterness and vindictiveness at why he has chosen "success" over family, and in the staging of the scene i think we are meant to be left with the impression that he has made the wrong choice, that it has deprived him of a life he could have had. in the novel, getting to hear more of hopkins' own narrative, his upbringing and his relationships with his family, we draw basically the same conclusion, except there is a sense that even if he has made sacrifices, the person he is must always draw him to the life of business, and therefore almost seems less like the choice he made, than like the compulsion he is forced to obey.

The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit (2)

These 2 things struck me about the film:

1) The addition that Hopkins thought that Tom looked like his son. I don't think this was in the book, and I thought that it was an interesting addition. It was probably a way to forge a connection between Tom and Hopkins, and to make Hopkins seem like a better family man -- although to what end I'm not sure. Maybe the writers made him want to seem more sympathetic to the audience, based on the time period.

As far as forging a connection between Tom and Hopkins, I don't know if it was necessary, because it didn't seem like their storyline was fully realized. We talked during the movie how things were moved around and cut out. The thing with Maria came late, for example. We were surprised it came so late.

2) We talked during the movie about Gregory Peck playing the main character. I think choosing him definitely had an effect on the character. For example, we talked about how he wasn't as sarcastic, and I don't know whether this specifically was a positive or a negative change.

Any Other Color Besides Gray?

There is a lot of gray in this film from the Manhattan buildings to Gregory Peck's wardrobe, but I'd like to look at the colors that characterize the women in his life. When we were watching the film, Agatha pointed out that she hated Betsy's outfits throughout the movie. I noticed, too, that they seem quite drab, even for a 1950's housewife. In the majority of the film, Betsy wears a combination of gray, brown, beige, and orange - not the happiest of colors. I wonder if this was meant to parallel the "mundane-ness" of the life she felt she lived. Her dour and boring attire matched her dour and boring home (and life). It is only when Betsy is happy to be settled in the old mansion that she finally decides to wear pale pink, a more pleasing and happy color. In contrast, when we first see Maria in flashback form, she is wearing a bright teal dress, brimming with brightness and passion, like it's wearer. The use (or lack thereof) of color does separate the two women in my mind - and Tom's decision for a passionate affair, leaving his dull life behind him.

The Depression In the Gray Flannel Suit

One thing I noticed about The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, both in the film and novel, is that besides offering few examples of working class characters, they never, at least not that I noticed, explicitly mention the Depression. Sure, the novel and film were produced in the fifties, almost twenty years after the height of it, but it seems as if it might at least be mentioned in contrast to the boom of post-war America. The only potential reference we get of it comes from the novel: when Tom is told about his father mismanaging the family’s money (possibly a reference to the crash of the stock market and its aftermath?). I wonder if this is an attempt on Wilson and Johnson’s part to repress or even disavow the economic realities experienced during the Depression. If so, could we view elements of the Depression as attempting to make themselves known in the novel and film, a more subtle version of Tom’s war memories making themselves known in the narrative? In what scenes or moments in the film might we find them, if in fact they do exist?