Countless shades of Grey

September is a perfect month for a film like Grey Gardens. My first viewing was right before summer of last year, and I didn't initially take to it (ie. I fell asleep). But over a few days of watching and re-watching various scenes, I became a convert to the extremely weird yet totally relatable (for me) ways of Big and Little Edith Beale. After a couple of calls from the independent movie rental store asking me to return it, I purchased my own Criterion Collection copy and now regard it as the best film on family relationships I can think of. It's hilarious, tragic, largely indecipherable, escapist, a life lesson, a warning sign, and a tale of high society gone haywire. Here in the reel lies what happened to a dream deferred, even if that dream is as vague as the stream-of-conscious monologues and dialogues that a master screenwriter cannot and could not trump.

Shot during the early fall of 1973 (in the midst of my favorite decade of cinema), with that signature period cinematography, Grey Gardens documents the life of an aged, mostly immobile Edith Bouvier Beale and her middle-aged daughter, Edie. The Bouvier surname is not just a coincidence; they are the paternal aunt and cousin of Jackie O. Amongst the pristine summer homes, Grey Gardens is the dilapidated East Hampton estate reduced from its floral glory to ghastly overgrowth, and a sanitation nightmare municipally condemned. Feral cats roam the halls, raccoons have not only taken residence in the attic (and, eventually, the home itself), but are fed by Little Edie. "Mr. Beale" left sometime in the '30s or '40s, who really knows, and Edie compromised her imminent "big chance" (at 35, no less) in New York City to care for her mother. Fast-forward 20 years later and with no definable life of her own, and what's left is a former beauty who now traipses around in odd clothing and a stunted, if not regressive, emotional state. Big Edie's guilt trips, power trips and manipulation of sympathy and daughterly duty didn't exactly help the duo's current predicament. And though you want to venerate and excuse the defenses of an old woman, it's clear that this feline-lovin' matriarch is not. so. innocent.

The past has shifted into overdrive by the time the Maysles brothers show up to film, and Little Edie's ready to unleash her flirtatious knack for the absurd and eccentric. The female duo more talk at each other than to each other. Little Edie missed her "big chance" but boasts her return to an independent life; Big Edie's too old to care about life's regrets yet tries to save face by claiming her own marriage was a "terrible success." And that's just the top layer of the mold. With no objective voice to balance out the two, the film's mystery and appeal is that the past is only opinion, and these are two very opinionated characters. By making just enough sense in their fragmented banter, their world is whimsical yet jarringly realistic and, at times, completely heart-breaking.


The film really left me with a despairing feeling, but in the grand scheme Little Edie's life (she died in 2002) was not so bleak. Yes, she clearly missed the marriage and children boat, and all a Social Register life could provide (ie. graceful restraint, eccentric repression, adultery and alcoholism). But in exchange, Little Edie gained a cult following, became the subject of several tribute books and photo journals, and her makeshift style has been referenced in fashion spreads and designer collections. In addition, the family's story was the subject of a recent Broadway musical (which I regretfully missed) and an upcoming, big-name HBO film.

Though it may seem like I've said more than enough, there's always something more to be said about this film. If you want to get introduced to a great example of cinéma vérité, start with this movie before it, and its heroine, go (more) mainstream. Acknowledgment or not, any reality show junkie owes quite a lot to this film of a brilliant mess caught on camera.