1 hr and 35 min, b&w,
1963
Sidney
Poitier has become an iconic figure in films, not just among African Americans
but among the general movie-going public.
He was “up there” in silver screen stature long before any of the other
minority performers with whom we have
become acquainted and learned to enjoy, male or female. He opened a door by taking careful steps,
picture by picture, over many years and proving he had a very special
charisma. Even in his less desirable
pictures he has exhibited nothing less than absolute professionalism. He is blessed with a face that by itself
seems to lay claim to every inch and foot between the viewer’s eyes and the
space in which he performs – a world within a world – a wide smile, the kind
that puts people at their ease, a steady focus that never depends upon
histrionics to create either dramatic intensity or comic cool, a take-charge
forcefulness that is never self-conscious or labored. In a word, a winning and resourceful
presence!
In
“Lilies of the Field”, his most fondly remembered work to date that broke the
color barrier for leading male award winners (the first Oscar ever presented to
a black person for a leading role), he displays every facet of his appeal, both
funny and dramatic. And have I said
anything about his great timing? He could
not be out of sync, even if he wanted to be.
He paved the way for a host of other black players, five of whom have since
taken home the coveted statuette for leading roles.
For
a while it looked as if “Lilies of the Field” had been dropped from circulation. But suddenly this past year a distribution
company of long standing, Kino International, grabbed it up and has placed it
among its KL Studio Classics, newly released in Blue-Ray. In Kino’s hands it is assured a permanent
library for home viewing, which it richly deserves. (Those of you who followed my list of one
hundred movie favorites recently published on this blog may remember that it
was included.)
The
story it tells gets its moxie and strength from the encounter between people of
vastly different backgrounds and world views.
Can you imagine a more unlikely pairing than that of an itinerant
construction worker of grass roots American origin, footloose and unattached,
wandering the countryside, and a band of East German nuns (the film made at the
height of the Cold War when the Berlin Wall was still intact) who barely speak any
English, holding down a rigorous existence in an American southwest desert community? Homer Smith (Poitier), as his name happens to
be, at the opening is on his way to who-knows-where when his automobile radiator
runs dry on a back road and he pulls into their little makeshift convent to
draw some water from their well.
Little
does he know what he is stepping into, when in reply to their appeal he offers
to fix their roof before taking off, in anticipation of getting paid a little
for the job, not knowing just how poor these women are. The starchy Mother Superior (Lilia Skala) is
sure his arrival is in answer to prayer.
“God has sent me big strong man!”
To this Homer replies, “He hasn’t said anything to me about that!” It is more, however, than odd jobs she plans
to extract from him. She shows him an
artist’s conception of a “shaapl” (my phonetic transcription), her broken
English version of “chapel”. Someone –
we are never told who – has already started the project on their little
property, and she thinks he is there to finish it.
The
comedy in the picture, and there is quite a bit of it, derives more from things
that incidentally happen than from lines spoken or sight gags. The amusing details seem to emerge naturally
and spontaneously from the predicament in which Homer finds himself. Nothing slays my funny bone more than the
reaction shot when he discovers that the entire evening meal to which he has
been invited is nothing more than what looks to be bread and milk, the ritual
of supper concluded just as he is getting started. Breakfast the following morning is no better
– a single boiled egg. Nothing to drink,
no coffee, nothing! This big brawny man
sitting like an unsuspecting beggar at the end of their table!
The
wiles with which the Mother Superior entices him into the project, a project
that he almost swears at first he wants nothing to do with, are remarkable and
fun to follow. Before he knows it, he is
chauffeuring the ladies around, still hoping to get paid, until he lands smack
in the middle of their larger community.
And that is when the big fun really escalates.
What
finally changes Homer’s mind about granting the nuns’ wish? That would be a good subject for a discussion
of the film. He is not emotionally
blackmailed; he is not threatened with damnation; he is not entrapped by the
force of circumstances; he is not even promised any remuneration for his hard
work. Something turns within him, some
compartment of his self-interest and self-respect is awakened.
The
plot is not complicated; it is the endearing little things that happen as the
walls go slowly and uncertainly up that give us a thorough entertainment. But those of you who have not seen the film,
do not get the wrong idea! No one among
this small bunch is afraid of, or in thrall to, anyone else. Some bickering and contentious words are
exchanged several times over the course of the movie; there are a few real
blowups, in fact. I am pleased to see
that Homer is never cowed by the habits the ladies wear, nor does he
demonstrate the slightest inclination to be converted to their practice or
their belief in divine intervention. Nor
does the Mother Superior attempt to draw him away from his professed Baptist
faith. This is a case of opposites
forming a passing alliance, each for different reasons, leading to moments of
unspoken and uneasy truce making. Piousness,
I am thankful to report, plays no part at all.
One
factor that helps make needed peace is music.
Homer plays a rather swell guitar and acquaints the sisters with “down-home-go-to-meetin’
” vocalizing. The “Amen!” melody they
croon together shows up in the musical score as well, written with a superb ear
to match the simple spacious grass roots environment to which the subjects
belong. That score has a life all its
own that would furnish light pleasant listening by itself. It plays a mesmerizing and seductive and
somewhat haunting role in the wonderful last scene – a real beauty! And all is resolved without any treacle or
stickiness or suds, and with many questions left beautifully unanswered
regarding future dealings between the characters.
Every
individual portrayed by the supporting cast is a delight, even the bossy Mother. On a shoestring budget Producer/Director
Ralph Nelson and Screenplay Writer James Poe, working from a story by William
Edward Barrett, took great pains, navigating through the delicate material with
confidence, respect for all the characters, and imagination. I urge everyone to see it before you leave
this good earth. Thanks to Kino in
association with Netflix, it will be around.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com. To learn about me consult on the website the
blog entry for August 9, 2013.
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