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| Kate Winslet |
James M. Cain might have had that line from "King Lear" in mind when he plotted his 1941 novel "Mildred Pierce," the story of a mother who sacrifices too much, and the child who pays her back in suffering.
"Mildred Pierce" has come to the screen before, in a 1945 Joan Crawford movie. But in a new miniseries, HBO and Todd Haynes ("Far From Heaven") ignore that flawed classic to return to the source: Cain's heartbreaking tale of a woman whose spunk and resourcefulness can't quite overcome an Achilles heel named Veda.
Haynes and HBO devote 5 hours and 50 minutes to telling Mildred's story, and some viewers will find the pace slow. (As a test, ask yourself how you'd feel about a 15-second interlude of a car crossing a bridge at twilight, then multiply by 10.)
But watching "Mildred Pierce" in two big gulps, I wasn't bored for a second. Instead, I was absorbed by the plot, fascinated by the characters and awed by Kate Winslet's beautifully nuanced performance as Mildred.
(She's a sure bet for an Emmy — and music, costumes, set decoration and cinematography are prize-worthy as well.)
If you have any memory of the Crawford movie, put it aside. As additional preparation, you might want to have pie in the house, because baked goods play a major supporting role here. In the first scene, Mildred rolls out a flaky-looking crust; we learn that it's 1931 in Glendale, Calif., and she's putting food on her two daughters' plates by peddling her famous pies and cakes to the neighbors.
The Depression has killed husband Bert's real estate business, and their marriage has fallen apart. Mildred is eventually desperate enough to take a job as a waitress in a hash house.
She has no experience, but she's smart and spunky and learns the restaurant business with an eye to opening her own place. "Mildred Pierce" might begin and end as a feel-good short story in a vintage women's magazine if only she weren't so vulnerable to men, first her husband's old partner (James LeGros) and then playboy do-nothing Monty Beragon (Guy Pearce).
Actually, though, it's not her inability to resist men that derails Mildred. The insurmountable problem is her daughter Veda (first Morgan Turner, then Evan Rachel Wood). Mildred thinks Veda is special. So does Veda, a little snot who at age 11 flounces around in a silk robe and talks like a character out of an Emily Bronte novel as she orders everyone around.
We realize right off that Veda is a bad seed, but something about her reminds Mildred of her own hopes and dreams, which never came to fruition. She is too blinded by maternal love to realize that her devotion will never be repaid and that by trying too hard, she's only making Veda despise her.
Wood, when she finally arrives as the older Veda, is a bit of a disappointment, possibly because she's called on to play a character who's always playing a character — Veda the Diva.
In any case, Veda isn't nearly as interesting as Mildred herself, who struggles to find independence at a time when the only respectable job for a woman is wife and mother. She's a wonderfully complicated character, a product of her time and still timeless as she struggles to reconcile what ought to be with what needs to be.
Not knowing much more about the plot of "Mildred Pierce" will enhance enjoyment of the drama, which airs the next three Sundays. So will going into the miniseries with appropriate expectations.
Know that this is not a thriller in any sense of the term. Don't expect action; only a few scenes, including one that's almost unbearably sad, depart from the mood of deceptive tranquility established when Mildred rolls out that pie crust in the opening scene.
Take time, as the story unfolds, to appreciate the beauty in the pie crust, in the darkening sky and the sparkling waves, and the rain, seen through frantic wipers from the inside of a car.
Haynes, who directed and co-wrote the adaptation (with Jon Raymond), and director of photography Ed Lachman make "Mildred Pierce" a visual work of art. And as drama, it's as tartly delicious as Mildred's lemon pie.
Sources: http://www.stltoday.com
