A Safe Place

One might be tempted to call Henry Jaglom's directing debut "A Safe Place", which he also wrote (based on material he originally presented on stage in New York), self-indulgent; however, the indulgence here really belongs to the editor, Pieter Bergema. This is a movie 'made' in its editing stages, and either Bergema had too much film to work with or not enough (this might explain the endless close-ups of crying or howling faces, several of them repeated). Tuesday Weld plays a commune-living hippie chick in New York City, on a tightrope between being a woman and wanting to remain a child, who begins a relationship with a drop-out from high society before she has resolved her feelings for former boyfriend Jack Nicholson, who apparently left her for another woman. Jaglom encourages his cast to wing it, and so we're left with lots of rambling, pseudo-introspective monologues about illusion and reality. It's wise not to try and dissect "A Safe Place"--that would be like analyzing a snowflake. There's just not enough real substance here--nor enough real acting--to spark a debate on the film. Orson Welles as a magician (or perhaps Weld's guardian angel) looks like a cross between Jackie Gleason and Oliver Hardy; he has fun doing magic tricks in Central Park, but is mostly used as a shoulder for Weld to lean on. Weld herself is a lovely presence (although this little-girl-lost number was just about played out), and cinematographer Dick Kratina gets some gorgeous shots of her all around the city, but the only genuine acting in the film comes from newcomer Gwen Welles as another hippie who is mesmerized by the non-meaning of her dreams. ** from ****

Henry Jaglom is a director I've heard about before, but had never seen one of his films. He makes a film every couple of years, they play in like three cities in America, and no one seems to like them. A Safe Place was his first film, adapted from his own play, which he wrote in 1964. Tuesday Weld plays an insufferable hippie chick who doesn't want to grow up. Phil Proctor is a square who wants desperately to bone her, so he puts up with her nonsense (he knows that she's half crazy, but that's why he wants to be there). Eventually, a much more exciting Jack Nicholson shows up and steals her away. Orson Welles plays a magician who occasionally enchants Weld with his magic. Gwen Welles (whom you might remember from Altman's films California Split and Nashville), in her film debut, also appears and rambles on about her dreams of being sexually assaulted. The film is pretty, and that prettiness is very much augmented by Tuesday Weld's enchanting beauty. But, honestly, there's not much going on here. It's very repetitive (there are some nice, old songs on the soundtrack, but each of them plays all the way through like three times), and, well, boring.

So, let me get this straight - if I have a taste for Fellini, Antonioni and Godard I'll feel right at home with A Safe Place? Um, no. I love Fellini, right up through 8 1/2. I've enjoyed much of Antonioni. Godard - a mixed bag for me, but I like Breathless and Alphaville fine, and Band Of Outsiders, too. Mr. Jaglom is not in their company, at least for me, and A Safe Place is a pretentious mess from start to finish. No one loves Tuesday Weld more than I, and she's fine. Jack Nicholson, who came in for a day and improvised everything is embarrassing. Gwen Welles gives new meaning to self-indulgent, but then again she has the most self-indulgent filmmaker imaginable "directing" her.

I have never met a Henry Jaglom film I liked - ever. And his "thing" that if you don't respond to his films then you don't understand women is, well, fatuous. I'm glad he considers himself such an enlightened and sensitive man, but I'm not buying nor are many of my women friends. It is the type of cinema that makes me want to throw up and not because I don't like experimental or interesting films, because I have and I do. As I sat there with drool running out of my mouth because I'd just invested what I thought was almost ninety minutes of my time, I paused the film to find out I was only at the forty-minute mark.

However, one has to commend any filmmaker who keeps on doing it - he does it with his own funds (good to be wealthy) and as long as he keeps having girlfriends he'll keep making films because his entire oeuvre is based on his love life.

The title of my review is no exaggeration. The only saving grace to watching this movie is that it's only about an hour and a half in length, even though it seems at least twice that long to view. The screenplay (assuming there really was a screenplay to begin with, because the dialogue feels totally improvised...not because it sounds "real", but because it's strained and ludicrous) is annoying to the nth degree, unless you like hearing profound voice-over comments such as "I love you from New York to Rome..from Rome to Madrid, etc. etc. etc. over and over and over again. If I was on a deserted island with a DVD player and this was the only DVD I had with me, I'd break it in a hundred pieces with a coconut because, otherwise, I'd end up searching for a shark to eat me as soon as possible. If I had a choice between being water-boarded and being forced to watch this movie repeatedly, I'd have a VERY tough decision to make. But, other than that, the movie was great.

A strange young woman (Tuesday Weld) lives in a fantasy world where she can never grow up.

Henry Jaglom's directorial debut was a "critical and box-office disaster". Time magazine called the film "pretentious and confusing", a film that "suggests that the rumors of his expertise were greatly exaggerated, or at least that it does not extend to directing." Apparently, for the critics, not even the presence of the incredible Orson Welles or Jack Nicholson could save this one.

Author Anais Nin was perhaps the most kind. She called the film "an impressionistic film, an X ray of our psychic life, which gives an insight instantly into the secret self." She called it a "masterpiece", and praised it for its dreamlike quality that could only be captured on film.