After more than a decade of shouldering, with both dignity and grace, the
damned-if-you-do/damned-if-you-don’t burden of being Hollywood's first African-American superstar (the representative movie face of the
entirety of black America, while at the same time liberal Hollywood’s unofficial
Civil Rights symbol), Sidney Poitier’s appearance in the well-intentioned,
but nonetheless cringe-worthy 1967 film Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? successfully brought
his trademark Noble Negro character to its logical conclusion. I number myself among those who felt that by 1967, if Poitier's godlike paragon of Afro-American perfection was the kind of sugar necessary to make the medicine of racial equality go down, then the time had indeed come for a complete overhaul of the cinema image of the American black male.
Sidney Poitier as Jack Parks |
Abbey Lincoln as Ivy Moore |
Beau Bridges as Tim Austin |
Lauri Peters as Gena Austin |
Leon Bibb as Billy Talbot |
Carroll O'Connor as Frank Austin |
Nan Martin as Doris Austin |
I was just ten-years-old at the time, but I recall Sidney Poitier being all over the place in 1967. First, there was To Sir With Love, which I went to see more times than I can count; In The Heat of the Night, which was powerful, but I can’t say I enjoyed it much; and the release of the much-ballyhooed and then-controversial Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?, was such a major event in our household (my mom both adored Poitier and was a Katherine Hepburn fan), it occasioned the rare movie outing for the entire family. (As much as I can't really abide the movie now, you have no idea what a groundswell of controversy it sparked when it came out. I also remember how weird and eye-opening it was that no matter how divided opinions were about the film's themes, blacks did not wage any public protests against the film. All level of picketing, angry protests, violent threats, and acts of hostility leveled at theaters showing this almost comically circumspect movie were the usual domestic terrorists: white racists and extremists.
With Poitier starring in three such profitable and high-profile films in the same year, signs would seem to indicate the Academy Award-winning actor’s already illustrious career (1964 Best Actor -Lilies of the Field) was on the ascendance. But, irony of ironies, after being virtually the sole lead black actor working consistently in films for many years, Poitier's popularity started to decline in direct proportion to the emergence of the youth-market fueled, black film explosion of the 1970s. With a new decade dawning, and with it an exciting array of new black talent and afro-centric narratives filling movie screens, Poitier must have found it dismaying to have the very doors he had been so instrumental in opening for actors of color, feel as though they were beginning to be closed to him.
40-year-old Sidney Poitier Grooves at a '60s Happening Poitier's comforting, buttoned-down image began to look dated as the more militant '70s approached |
Thus it was perhaps with no small sense of relief on his part when Poitier at last discarded his socially-appointed halo and embarked upon a
series of human-scale roles designed to update and reconstruct his image. That he essentially had to write, produce, and eventually direct most of these roles in order to achieve this points to the level of reluctance he faced within the industry when called upon to relate to him as anything other than a symbol of tolerance. In 1969s The Lost Man Poitier played a militant
revolutionary (!), a single father in A
Warm December (1973), and a thief in A
Piece of the Action (1977). But his very first attempt at downsizing the saintly
Poitier mystique was in the charming romantic comedy, For Love of Ivy.
Debunking the myth of the contented domestic
who's happy to be "Like one of the family."
who's happy to be "Like one of the family."
Jack - "Looks like you've got a pretty good setup here." Ivy - "Too good!. I don't want to die here." Jack - "You've got to die somewhere." Ivy - "Well, isn't it better not to go ignorant and alone?" |
The upscale suburban household of the Austin family is
thrown into a tailspin when Ivy (Lincoln), the family maid of nine years, decides to quit, move to New York and attend secretarial school; or, in other words, make a life for herself. Certain she’s simply lonely, the younger members of the family, Tim & Gena (Bridges/Peters), elect to find her a boyfriend. Not just any suitor, since they certainly
don’t want her falling in love and leaving to get married or anything, but someone who’s altar-shy and willing to wine and dine
Ivy with no strings attached. Their best candidate for the job is Jack Parks (Poitier), the wealthy owner of a trucking company whose reputation as a swinger assures Ivy won’t be
whisked away, and whose illegal mobile gambling operation makes him a shoo-in
for a little maid-courtship extortion.
With Ivy thinking she's dating Jack just to help the family business (the Austins own a department store and contracts with Jack's trucking company), and Jack doing it to avoid exposure of his illegal nighttime activities, each thinks they know what they're getting into as the embark on their arranged rendezvous. And if you’ve ever seen a movie in your life before, there’s no mystery as to how things between Ivy and Jack will play out.
The Set-Up |
Genre-wise, it's all familiar territory that feels somehow unfamiliar due to the fun of seeing how significantly these Doris Day/Rock Hudson tropes are turned on their heads when (at long last) the lovers at the center of their own narrative—permitted to be funny, determined, amorous, conflicted, self-assured, independent, and imperfect—are black. A rarity then, and not exactly a commonplace occurrence now.
With a screenplay adapted by Robert Alan Aurthur (All that Jazz) from a 19-page story treatment written by Poitier
himself (that was turned down by three studios), For Love of Ivy is one of
those familiar, old-fashioned romantic comedies built around a grand deception.
A lie first contrived to bring the lovers together, followed by a misunderstanding, ending with a romantic reconciliation. It’s exactly the kind of movie Hollywood has churned out
for years. And therein lies the twist.
For the longest time, Hollywood’s depiction of African-Americans in movies has been defined
by the narrow parameters of symbols, stereotypes, sidekicks, or vessels of
suffering in need of white rescue. Black characters just being human in a motion picture is still such an original concept, you could use plots from silent movies and the film would come out looking like an innovative act of cultural insurgency by the mere casting of African-Americans in the lead roles.
Paraphrasing the sentiments of a movie critic from the time—after having played so
many solemn, “uplift the race” roles, Poitier, as a black movie star, was more than entitled to exercise his right to appear in the same mindless, escapist movie
fare white stars like Frank Sinatra and Tony Curtis had been making for years. Sidney Poitier had earned the right to be in an amusing, escapist diversion.
After nearly 20 years in the business, leading man Sidney Poitier finally gets a love scene |
WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM
When a film dismissed at the time of its release for being
too light and conventional provides: 1) One of the screen’s most independent, dimensional
black female characters, 2) The still-rare occurrence of a black romance at the
center of a mainstream, non-niche motion picture, 3) An Afro-centric narrative in
which the goals and objectives of the black characters are in no way invested
in, nor dependent upon, the happiness of white characters—perhaps there’s a
bigger statement to be made about why it is today, during the Administration of
our first black President, Hollywood still seems unable to move beyond butlers
(The Butler- 2013), maids (The Help- 2011), and slaves (not enough
space to list them all).
I have a real soft spot in my heart for For Love of Ivy...and not just because I find Poitier and Lincoln to be such an engaging couple. The broadly farcical aspects of its plot notwithstanding, I respond sentimentally to For Love of Ivy because the character of Ivy Moore is one of the most satisfyingly believable black female characters I've ever seen in a film.
Surprisingly, this feather-light comedy was directed by Daniel Mann, the director behind the film adaptations of the dramas Come Back Little Sheba, The Rose Tattoo, and I'll Cry Tomorrow. Sidney Poitier was inspired to write For Love of Ivy to provide his four daughters with an alternative to the usual glamorized (fetishized?) images of black women onscreen. Stars like Lena Horne, Dorothy Dandridge, and Diahann Carroll (with whom Poitier once had an affair) were favored for their Eurocentric features and exotic sexuality. Poitier wished to present his daughters with a more authentic representation of black womanhood.
And authenticity is exactly what I find in the character of Ivy, as embodied by the late Abbey Lincoln. Ivy is a dignified, independent woman who wants love and a better life, and best of all, isn’t looking to be rescued or saved by anyone but herself. She's a woman who only works as a maid...it's only what she does, not who she is.
When I watch For Love of Ivy, I see my four sisters, my mom, and every black woman who has ever had to define herself, for herself, because society, by and large, can't be bothered. I've no doubt that the main reason the character of Ivy resonates with me is because, when I was small, my mother worked for a time as a maid. Later, when I was a pre-teen, my parents divorced. I remember my mom going to night school and getting her driver's license, eventually working her way to a managerial position in government at San Francisco’s Federal Building. All the while sending all of us kids to private Catholic school.
That she eventually came to meet and marry a terrific, well-to-do gentleman who was her own Sidney Poitier figure (and a dynamite father figure for me), making it possible for her to quit her job and live out her days in comfort, is the kind of real-life "Hollywood" ending for a deserving woman that makes the fairy tale romanticism of For Love of Ivy feel a good deal less sappy for me than perhaps it does to others.
Self-reliant and proud, my mother, as remarkable as she
sounds, isn’t really unique among black women. There's lots like her around. But I never saw any black women like my mother represented in the movies (glamorized and glorified, to boot!) until I saw For Love of Ivy.
And authenticity is exactly what I find in the character of Ivy, as embodied by the late Abbey Lincoln. Ivy is a dignified, independent woman who wants love and a better life, and best of all, isn’t looking to be rescued or saved by anyone but herself. She's a woman who only works as a maid...it's only what she does, not who she is.
"What do you want?" "I'm not sure. I just know I haven't got it now." |
When I watch For Love of Ivy, I see my four sisters, my mom, and every black woman who has ever had to define herself, for herself, because society, by and large, can't be bothered. I've no doubt that the main reason the character of Ivy resonates with me is because, when I was small, my mother worked for a time as a maid. Later, when I was a pre-teen, my parents divorced. I remember my mom going to night school and getting her driver's license, eventually working her way to a managerial position in government at San Francisco’s Federal Building. All the while sending all of us kids to private Catholic school.
That she eventually came to meet and marry a terrific, well-to-do gentleman who was her own Sidney Poitier figure (and a dynamite father figure for me), making it possible for her to quit her job and live out her days in comfort, is the kind of real-life "Hollywood" ending for a deserving woman that makes the fairy tale romanticism of For Love of Ivy feel a good deal less sappy for me than perhaps it does to others.
Principally a jazz singer and songwriter, here is 25-year-old Abbey Lincoln as she appeared in the 1956 film, The Girl Can't Help It |
For all its abundant charm, For Love of Ivy is a bit of a puzzler when it comes to comedic
tone. It’s like when I was a kid and easy-laugh sitcoms like Gilligan’s Island aired before laugh-free
“heartwarming” humor shows like The Ghost
& Mrs. Muir. In trying to adjust to this shift in tone, I always felt as though my funny bone had a short in it or
something.
Watching For Love of
Ivy, comedically speaking, I get a sense of where it’s coming from: it’s partly one of those fraught-with-complications
Cary Grant romantic comedies like That
Touch of Mink; part class-satire along the lines of Goodbye Columbus; and part bourgeois romantic comedy, like Cactus Flower. Unfortunately (and in many ways puzzlingly) the bubble-light comedy of For Love of Ivy has trouble staying aloft.
Making her film debut (far right): Gloria Hendry, the first black Bond Girl in Live & Let Die (1973) |
I get a sense of where the comedy in the film is coming from, but too often it never really arrives. Farces this thrive on pacing, wit, and a kind of effortless effervescence, but the comedy rhythms
in For Love of Ivy always feel a
little off. Beau Bridges as one of those super clean-cut hippies that only
exist in the movies, has great comic energy. He’s a terrific actor capable of conveying
sincerity while inhabiting the genre-mandated hyperactivity of expression,
inflection, and body language. But too often it feels as if he’s working a particularly tough
room.
Sidney Poitier, playing a morally dubious character for the first
time since Blackboard Jungle (1955), looks
to be enjoying himself and is more relaxed than he’s been in years. Cutting a dashing figure in his tux, and
fairly oozing sex appeal and star quality, Poitier finally gets the chance to look
the part of the matinee idol he’s always been. Poitier has a splendid chemistry
and rapport with co-star Lincoln, but when it comes to the comedy; the palpable
intelligence behind his piercing eyes has a way of grounding even the most
convoluted of plot contrivances in an emotional reality antithetical to the breeziness
of tone required of material like this. (It would be six years before Poitier loosened
up enough to give his disarmingly funny performance in Uptown Saturday Night -1974.)
But while the broader comedy doesn't always catch fire in For Love of Ivy, the very gentle, very affecting character humor and touching relationships are handled rather extraordinarily. Beau Bridges' character may be a misguided liberal, but his very real affection for Ivy is a rather endearingly portrayed.
THE STUFF OF DREAMS
Displaying that rare brand of professional generosity I generally associate with Clint Eastwood—he being one the few leading men willing to hand over his film to his female co-star—Sidney Poitier allows For Love Ivy to be Abbey Lincoln's show completely. And the picture is all the better for it.
Abbey Lincoln is a natural at capturing the essence of a uniquely contemporary type of female character: an intelligent, self-possessed individual who nevertheless projects a kind of old-fashioned dignity. Word has it that Lincoln, a singer and Civil Rights activist for whom Ivy represents just her second film role (following the must see 1964 drama Nothing But a Man), beat out 300 actresses for the role. I can easily see why. She's one of a kind.
From beginning to end, Lincoln commands the screen in a way born not so much of technical skill, but rather, an ability to appear 100% genuine every minute. In the film's brightly-lit, Love American Style TV sitcom gloss, Lincoln stands out as the real thing.
Not a single one of her scenes is ever less than compelling because she comes across as incapable of being false. Her performance so fills my heart up, I confess that in the many times I've seen the film, I have yet to make it through dry-eyed. Her character is so endearing, and Lincoln's performance at times so emotionally raw, I've pretty much got the waterworks going full-throttle by the film's conclusion.
Get Out Your Handkerchiefs I have many favorite scenes, but this one slays me. Poitier has never been more charming, and Lincoln is a heartbreaker |
And then I think of how things are today, and how it is clear that more progress needs to be made. For all the outcry for women to play a larger role both in front of and behind the camera in films, the call seems to come mostly from a white feminist faction that doesn't always recognize the contributions of women of color. And when it comes to black filmmakers creating roles for women, I have to make sure my mind doesn't entertain thoughts of what someone like Tyler Perry would do to a remake of For Love of Ivy (For Love of Medea?).
Although For Love of Ivy has been a favorite of mine for years, how I came about rewatching it is due to my being contacted by Deep THOTS, a weekly pop-culture podcast hosted by the amazing Angie Thomas, and asked to participate in a conversation contrasting the depiction of domestics/maids in 1968s For Love of Ivy with 2011s The Help. What a difference 43-years can make...in anti-progress! You can listen to the spirited podcast HERE.
BONUS MATERIAL
Quincy Jones' title song was For Love of Ivy's sole Oscar nomination. Listen.
Unused title song composed by John Phillips commissioned for the film by The Mamas and the Papas. Listen.
Nothing But a Man (1964) - Complete film available on YouTube