Director: Giuseppe Patroni Griffi
Writers: Raffaele La Capria, Giuseppe Patroni Griffi (screenplay) Muriel Spark (novel)
Starring: Elizabeth Taylor, Ian Bannen, Mona Washbourne, Andy Warhol
Year: 1974
Duration: 102 mins
BBFC Certification: 15
By the mid 1970s, it was clear that Elizabeth Taylor’s career was in a precipitous decline. Gone were the days of Oscar triumphs or taking the title role in the most expensive film ever made. Having finally broken free of her old studio contract, the dramatically changing times of the late sixties saw Taylor begin to collaborate with more artistic and experimental directors. Yet whereas an avant garde career change worked wonders for some stars (such as Dirk Bogarde or Burt Lancaster, who made some of their greatest work with European film makers) Taylor found her own more left-field efforts, such as Secret Ceremony or Hammersmith is Out, facing a rather more barbed critical reception.
1973 found Taylor’s personal life facing almost as much upheaval as her movie career, as her infamous marriage to Richard Burton finally collapsed. Only a few days later, the actress found herself on the set of Identikit, a European adaptation of Muriel Spark’s dark, alienating novella The Driver’s Seat, directed by ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore’s Giuseppe Patroni Griffi. The film, like so much of Taylor’s 70s output, failed both critically and commercially. Yet what makes The Driver’s Seat (to go by the film’s original English title) unique is that the English language version has never received a UK theatrical or home video release. Now, after almost almost 50 years, the BFI are releasing the The Driver’s Seat on Blu Ray in the UK, which will hopefully bring this fascinating, challenging film to a whole new audience, where they can finally revel in one of Taylor’s most visceral and startling roles.
The film adheres quite closely to the plot of Spark’s original story. Lise, a troubled, lonely and mentally fragile woman who lives in an unnamed Northern city, has decided to have a holiday and travel South to Italy. Here, she attempts to find the ‘ideal man’ who will possibly bring her some chance of happiness. Yet, as a series of disconcerting flashbacks with police detectives show, Lise’s goal is far darker and more troubling than we realise…
The Driver’s Seat begins as it means to go on, where our introduction to Lise and the world she inhabits feels off-kilter and infused with a creeping sense of paranoia. Indeed, the atmosphere recalls some of Polanski’s seminal 60s and 70s work, where a cold detachment pervades and corrupts what should be ordinary, comforting environments. This sense of a world close to tearing itself apart only increases as we witness both airport shootings and car bombings as the film progresses. While these events echo the political troubles of 70s Italy, this atmosphere can’t help but remind us of our present state of affairs in a world that also often feels frighteningly off balance.
If the environment of The Driver’s Seat feels odd, then the characters that inhabit it feel even more obtuse and bizarre. Of all the characters that Lise meets, Ian Bannen’s vulgar businessman easily takes the crown. Obsessed by a microbiotic diet and his ‘daily orgasm’, Bannen seems to have stumbled in from a David Lynch film – and I mean that in the best possible sense. Mona Washbourne makes a memorable turn as the sweet and naive Mrs. Fiedke, who accompanies Lise on an awkward shopping trip, while Guido Mannari’s car mechanic is both charming and disturbing. There is even a cameo from Andy Warhol, who, while unfortunately dubbed, nevertheless adds to the pervasive, unbalanced undertones that The Driver’s Seat so effortlessly seems to conjure.
The film’s structure and pace help enormously in this regard. Utilising elliptical jumps to reveal a police investigation that moves both backwards and forwards in the narrative, The Driver’s Seat feels remarkably modern and fresh. This non-linearity may confound or even annoy upon a first watch, but multiple viewings offer rich rewards as the disparate narrative threads begin to reveal their connections. The Driver’s Seat is also remarkably shot. Griffi, in conjunction with famed DP Vittorio Storaro (who lensed such visually stunning films such as Apocalypse Now, The Conformist and The Last Emperor) infuse The Driver’s Seat with a invigorating cinematic atmosphere, where beautifully controlled camera movements combine with at times staggering lighting (just wait for the last fifteen minutes) to create a consistently elegant and engaging visual experience.
Yet the star of The Driver’s Seat, in all senses, is Taylor herself. Offering a brave, unhinged yet vulnerable performance, it feels incredibly rare to see a star of her era, brought up in the Hollywood Studio system, present us with such a raw, unflinching portrayal of a woman slowly falling apart. Her Lise, tragic yet ultimately in complete control of her destiny, is powerfully and at times ferociously evoked. Uncompromising and fearless, it is a bravura turn that deserves to be recognised as one of Taylor’s key roles.
It is criminal that a film as vital to Taylor’s career as The Driver’s Seat has been so little seen or appreciated. While this is a dark story with undercurrents of alienation, loneliness and despair, Taylor, along with Griffi and Storaro, ultimately create an bizarre yet beautiful film out the dark embers of Spark’s novella, taking their audience on a beguiling journey that confounds and delights as it gradually reveals its haunting, enigmatic heart.
Film:
The Driver’s Seat is being released on Blu Ray in the UK by the BFI. It is important to note that the film has already been released in the US via Severin Films, as part of their brilliant House of Psychotic Woman boxset, from which the BFI disk shares the same restoration and a few extra features. The film itself looks fantastic throughout. It has been restored in 4K and looks rich and robust. I did notice a few instances of print damage here and there, but nothing to detract from the enjoyment of the film. Overall, this showcases Vittorio Storaro’s stunning cinematography with aplomb. Sound (which comes in the original mono audio) is very good also, with music and dialogue being balanced and clear throughout.
As mentioned, the BFI share a few of the extras that appeared on the Severin disc. The first is a commentary by TCM Underground Curator Millie De Chirico. While Chirico clearly has a deep love and knowledge of the film, and offers some great insights and analysis, unfortunately the commentary falls silent far too often, which makes it a rather frustrating listen.
Kier-La Janisse (the producer of the Severin boxset) offers a short five minute introduction to the film. This succinct intro provides a little bit of background info on the production, as well as offering a comparison between Elizabeth Taylor’s character and the main character in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, the other key Muriel spark novel and film adaptation.
Lack of Absence is an interview and analysis of Spark’s original novella with writer and literary historian Chandra Mayor. She begins with of a short biography of Muriel Spark before moving onto a discussion of the novel and its feminist aspects before concluding with a reading of a passage from the novel itself. This is an interesting, insightful and engaging watch.
Rounding up the package are a series of short films that share some thematic context with The Driver’s Seat. The most startling of these is Do You Love Me? a short, three minute experimental black-and-white film from 1968 in which Germaine Greer sends up her persona by playing a manic woman pursuing a man. This gets quite dark and disturbing towards the end. Next up is Waiting For. This 10 minute film features a young woman who has embarked on a filmmaking project after a mysterious man gave her a camera and told her to capture her every day reality. It’s fairly odd, but amusing nonetheless – it also serves as a great time capsule back to early 70s Britain. Lastly there is The Telephone, made by Chris Petit (of Radio On fame). This simple short film, where a woman enacts revenge on her boyfriend, was primarily made as means to test 16mm film stock and it shows. Very short and rather underwhelming, this is the least engaging of the three.
The BFI also include a trailer for the National Theatre of Scotland’s 2015 stage production of The Driver’s Seat, an English credit sequence, as well as a limited edition booklet that will only be included in the first print run. The booklet is very good, containing two insightful and very informative essays from Simon McCallum (the Archive Projects Curator at the BFI) and Bruce LaBruce (a filmmaker, photographer and writer). Both essays fill in lots of gaps missing from the on disc extras, along with offering great analyses of the film itself. A short piece from Kier-La Janisse is also included and is another great read. Overall, don’t hesitate to pick up an early copy of the film as the booklet feels rather essential for this release.
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