Never Seen It #214: Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore

Everybody, listen! We got us here a new girl, and her name is Alice. And today is her first day on the job. And Mel here says that she was a blogger. How about them apples? And everybody can see she's got big blogs on her. But hands off. Let the girl do her work watching 400 movies she's never seen before. If there's going to be any grab-assing around here, grab mine. You look, but don't you touch.

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore

1974

Martin Scorsese

It's Group C's turn. Gathered below are the thoughts and opinions of this week's small group regarding Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore. Check them out, and then meet us in the comments! Everyone is invited—Group C members who missed the deadline, other small group members, anyone who has gotten lost on the internet and somehow found themselves here.

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Walter

One word could sum up the protagonist in Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore. This word refers to the deep, nostalgic longing for a place or person that no longer exists, or perhaps never truly did exist. For Alice, this word describes her journey to recapture her childhood living in Monterey, California, a place where she discovered her desire to be a singer, a place where she inevitably was forged by codependence of an angry mother. We don't really learn much about Alice's childhood, especially her mother, but the tone of the initial scene is red with fury and frustration. This tone would continue throughout Alice's life in seeking that role as a singer, a parent, and a lover. Each of these identities reveals Alice's grief and yearning for something irretrievably lost and her search for belonging. Invisibly forcing Alice to move from town to town, taking small time gigs at bars and restaurants, she copes with abusive partners, her unruly son, and financial insecurity through this single word, which I will now reveal is not a common English word, but Welsh—that word is "hiraeth."

GRADE: three — intriguing enough to watch once but didn't have a depth of character or story to deserve a higher rank.

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Kait

I did not like this movie. It made me uncomfortable, and not in the "I'm growing and learning and facing hard shit" kind of way. More like the "Jesus Christ is she laughing or crying?" kind of way, which I do recognize could be heavily influenced by Ellyn Burstyn also being in Requiem for a Dream. That movie makes me want to peel my skin off, so maybe I projected that here. 

This movie also made me mad. Why oh why could Alice Hyatt not just stay single, make it to Monterrey with her kid, and be a singer? Why did we have to watch her get abused and bullied and nagged over and over? How in the hell is the movie cover a photo of her and another abusive man as if that's some beautiful love/redemption story for her? He literally hit her kid on his birthday when he was dressed up like a literal cowboy clearly after being influenced by this guy! And for what? Cause the kid said he has shit taste in music? That's how this whole movie ends?! Them all one big happy family?! Barf. 

Here's the thing, there's stuff in here that warrants exploration from a woman's perspective since this story follows a woman's journey through it. Things like grief, being a victim of domestic violence, independence, being a parent, asserting boundaries, friendship, misogyny, starting over... but this movie doesn't do that. Alice talks about how she doesn't know how to live without a man, and that's a very real issue and pressure placed upon women. But instead of like grappling with that and leaning more on her awesome friends, she falls right into the arms of this rancher with a serious anger problem who cannot even apologize to her in the diner after hitting her kid on his birthday. YUCK. 

I will say that I do think the kid Tommy is an interesting character study in looking at how influenced he is by the men in his life. His dad dies, and he basically steps into his shoes in nagging and bullying his mom. Again, there's something there in looking at the impact of grief and what happens when one parent maybe puts their kid in the dead spouse's now-empty companion/codependent position. But in no way does this movie do that. 

Noooo thank you to this one. I'll give it a grade of 1 instead of 0 though because of the weird-ass server who rides motorcycles with her dad, Big Daddy Duke (loved her), Jodie Foster being the cutest tomboy I've ever seen, Tommy being persistent with that awful joke no one understands, and Ellyn Burstyn giving one hell of a performance in a movie that stunk.

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Maeve

A Scorsese mob movie? No! A Scorsese mom movie!

Man, I was so annoyed last night when I had to sit down and watch this movie that I'd never heard of and really had no interest in seeing. Well, of course, egg on my face—this movie was great! In reality, when has Scorsese failed me? While this movie follows  Alice and her twelve-year-old son, who "escape" her humdrum life due to the unfortunate and untimely death of her indifferent husband. Alice has always dreamed of being a singer in Monterey, since the last time she seemed fully happy was that exact circumstance. Now that she's left to make her own decisions, that dream seems to be the only thing she knows she can want. Maybe, just maybe, her husband's death wasn't such a bad thing for Alice. 

Alice is 35 years old and finally experiencing independence for the first time. It feels timeless. She makes choices not necessarily in her best interest (lounge singer over a more financially stable position that could move them along to Monterey faster), but she's actually making her own decisions. Yes, at one point she's accidentally sleeping with a married man, which does make them have to move along on their journey. But hey, as I'm sure I've said on this blog a million times, you can only believe what people tell you—how was she supposed to know?! That being said, I support 35-year-old women (yes, my age, completely unrelated) making decisions that seem right at the moment. I also support 35-year-old women having fun, believing in their dreams, spending all their money stupidly (like a son's cowboy costume???), having full breakdowns during work, and falling in love with handsome men who own ranches (temperaments be damned!). 

What really struck me was how perfectly this movie nails mundane details: the son's dumbass joke that he repeats to no end and makes no sense, their water fight, pretending how everything is okay when it absolutely is not. It's an intimate look into who Alice is and what she wants.

Not to completely state the obvious, but man oh man, this made me yearn for a time (that I've never experienced) where $50 a week was enough for an open-ended stay at a motel and to support a child. The reckless abandon in which she has a yard sale for her things, packs up necessities, puts her son in the car, and just drives without a real plan (just an eventual "one day" destination) is insane to me. I'm trying to decipher if it's specifically something that feels dated—for example, she can't look up hotels on her route, try and find a job in advance in Monterey, so many unknown variables. Although, it's probably a direct example of her owning her own life, I can't help but to think how many obstacles would be immediately eliminated in the present. Or maybe not. Maybe this would happen exactly as-is, but with inflation pricing. I mean... we all know a six-pack of Hamm's is no longer $1.19, as is shown in an ad on a storefront. Similarly, Ellen Burstyn looks the age, but I can't get over how her haircut and clothing make her look so much older. Granted, that was just how it was in the '70s. But hey, she had Harvey Keitel and Kris Kristofferson endlessly pursuing her, so it worked (this is unrelated to the characters of these men, which I guess does matter, but let me live!). 

I do have questions about David just letting his family and kids go... seemingly not really caring. 

Blah, blah, blah, it's about the journey not the destination. And I love it.

GRADE: 4 of 5 free $50 shawls

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Joe

I needed this Martin Scorsese movie. I didn't even know I needed it before I watched it, or if I did, then I certainly couldn't verbalize it. I acknowledge that he's one of the greatest filmmakers of all time and I didn't need this movie to know that. But I think I just needed to see a Scorsese movie with some feminine energy. The films of his that I have seen up to this point (my thirteenth out of 27, not including concert films) have all had a palpable masculinity to them. It's not the movies themselves, necessarily, but more so the idea that male audiences are going to be less inclined to see their nuances due to that overt masculinity. I tend to keep at length those filmgoers who react to the violent mob epics in the same way that Matthew McConaughey beats his chest and makes grunting monkey noises. Maybe those same male audience members had a muted reaction to Killers of the Flower Moon because the conclusion of the film literally featured Scorsese rebuking them to their faces.

ANYWAY. My point about Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore is that it stands retroactively as a sort of outlier in the filmography. Its titular character is female, and Alice takes up the entire screen. It's her movie, and it's a great movie because of it. Ellen Burstyn—who I last saw going insane in Requiem for a Dream—lives this shit. She makes Alice seen and heard. Which is not that easy, in the context of the plot, which basically amounts to: men are fucking heels, and women need strength and courage to make it. Scorsese was asked by Burstyn, when she was deciding whether he'd be the one to direct, what he knew about being a woman, and Scorsese allegedly responded, "Nothing, but I'd like to learn." So this film is a lesson for those of us who do not identify as women.

It's not all cut and dry either. This is typical Scorsese—there is a lesson, but it's messy as hell. I think that a typical movie would make Kris Kristofferson's David a knight in shining armor, but even he succumbs to the underbelly of anger that all men seemed to have in the 1970s. I also think that it's interesting that the "grand romantic gesture" of David telling Alice that he'd move to Monterey with her ultimately falls flat, since they don't move to Monterey. Your typical movie in this vein would end as they drove into the distance, right? Even the thesis (as delivered by Alfred Lutter's Tommy) of "he always said you could fight with somebody and still like him" is a little dicey, since it was most likely said to justify the fighting originally. But in these final lines, it's used to justify the liking, and I think it's a worthy idea.

I was asked the other day "what kind of movies do [I] like?" It's a great question, to broad to answer accurately, but designed to confront and get in response at least some version of the truth. On the spot, what I came up with is that I like movies that hang out with interesting characters. I don't even need anything to happen. Action is not necessary. Dialogue, when on point, is good enough. To compare to last week's movie, I'd rather watch two main character chit chat about life in the outhouse stall for five minutes than watch a stoic character march through various battle sequences. While Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore is less a "talkie" than my absolute favorites typically are, I would classify this as a movie that does more character work than action. Lots of long shots of adult and child talking while mom drives. And when the action does arrive, such as when Harvey Keitel hulks out and breaks glass, it's legitimately shocking.

I've never said that I disliked Martin Scorsese movies. I've only ever said that I was weary of the fact that so many of his films seemed to be appealing to the lowest common denominator, and that gave me pause. Who knew that he's had this ace in the sleeve for over fifty years now? Not me. Because I'm a fucking moron. And Scorsese is a genius.

GRADE: 4.5 pukes out of 5

DISCUSSION POINT: There's been chatter the past two weeks about failures in parenthood, with the child abuse in Mommie Dearest and the strained relationship with a stepchild that ultimately leads to the protagonist's downfall in Barry Lyndon. Do we think Alice is successfully navigating parenthood here? Feels to me like she's doing her best. If she was one of my clients, I'd congratulate her on all her strengths that she displays throughout this movie.

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Sean G.

Wow, what can I say? I loved so much about this movie. To start it was funny. It made me laugh out loud as much as Goodfellas and even The King of Comedy has—what I think are Scorsese's other funniest movies. Just jam-packed with straight-up jokes and hilarious dialogue. Among some of my favorite lines are:

Alice: I'm not gonna discuss my sex life with you.

Tommy, her eleven-year-old son: Then I'm not gonna tell you about mine.

Alice reads a sign as soon as they enter Tucson: City of Tucson. Winter home of the Cleveland Indians.

Tommy: So far, I hate it.

Flo: I could lay under you, eat fried chicken... and do a crossword puzzle at the same time. That's how much you bother me.

Alice talks about Tommy's foul mouth: I don't know where he gets that language, I really don't.

Tommy: Think real hard. It'll come to you, lady.

Ellen Burstyn and the actor playing her son have fantastic comic timing. It's like they're from a 1930s screwball comedy. Scorsese has a greater knowledge of and love for movies than any other human being, and he's clearly showing his influences and love of screwball comedies here. Alice and her son's hilarious back-and-forths immediately brought to mind Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant in The Philadelphia Story or Joel McCrea and Veronica Lake in Sullivan's Travels. They are so much fun to watch and listen to. If music doesn't ultimately work out for Alice, she and Tommy could hit the road as a comedy duo.

Okay. Before the opening credits even start, we get that beautiful, Saul Bass-designed Warner logo that I wish was still used. And then we see those incredible opening credits. With the dreamy red script on lush, baby blue satin, I believe that Martin Scorsese is basically telling us—all before any action of the movie even begins—that this film is largely going to pay tribute to the work of director Douglas Sirk. Douglas Sirk's themes are on full display in Alice.

Don't know Douglas Sirk? His most influential films were melodramas he made in the 1950s. The opening credits in Alice are like a cousin to those in 1959's Imitation of Life. The two other Sirk movies that I feel Scorsese is pulling from to tell Alice's story are 1959's All That Heaven Allows and 1956's Written on the Wind. 

Sirk's characters yearn to be freed from American society's rigid constructs. The mother in All That Heaven Allows loves her children and appreciates the comforts of a quiet suburban life, but she also longs for independence, passion, and a life all her own. In Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore, Alice's lifelong passion is music and performing, something she learns is far easier to dream of than to make a reality. Before leaving NM, she fantasizes with her neighbor about the idea of leaving everything behind.

Sirk also asks, what makes a "real man?" Is it physical strength, aggression, romance, masculinity? Or emotional maturity, compassion, sensitivity, and respect? Or is it some combination of all of those things, and is that even achievable? In Alice, which of these qualities do David, Ben, and Don posses? What kind of a man does Alice want or need, if she needs one at all? 

I VERY HIGHLY RECOMMEND you seek out Douglas Sirk's films; those three in particular. They are accessible, beautiful to look at, incredibly moving—and at times unintentionally very funny. He is a master, and one that Scorsese clearly holds in the highest regard.

The entire cast is wonderful, playing complex and complicated characters. I especially love the scenes between Alice and Flo. I could watch an entire movie consisting of just their conversations sunbathing in the dusty parking lot or in the bathroom stall. Flo is at her most real when she's with Alice—I want to know everything about her. Harvey Keitel is great as a real nasty sonofabitch in sheep's clothing. And I'm now inspired to watch everything that Kris Kristofferson has acted in. 

I feel like I've already written too much, but man oh man, that opening scene in Monterey showing Alice as a little girl. Like Wizard of Oz meets Lynch meets a nightmare from the A Nightmare on Elm Street films. And then the wild choice to completely zoom out, leaving the rusty memory and its aspect ration behind for Socorro, New Mexico: 27 Years Later. The stylistic choices Scorsese makes with the camera movement and edits in that first sequence at their home are so much fun, and more visually interesting that most movies being released today. It's Scorsese playing with and developing his style that is so his own. Again, it's just so much fun to watch this.

Martin Scorsese has made 27 narrative features in nearly sixty years, and I understand why his most popular movies have been and will probably always be Goodfellas and Taxi Driver and Raging Bull and The Departed. I would guess that Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore remains unseen by most Scorsese fans, and it's too bad that it seemingly doesn't get the attention it deserves. 

This visually interesting, playful, hilarious, complex, and likely ultimately tragic tale (in that Alice probably never makes it to Monterey... but who knows?? Anything can happen) feels like a hidden gem patiently waiting to be found by Scorsese completionists, curious filmgoers, and those of participating in film clubs like this one. 

GRADE: 5/5

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Gloria

This movie was beautifully done. I loved having the opportunity to enter Alice's world for a little while and witness how she navigated her life after her husband died. I'm a big fan of movies where nothing really happens, and we just get to enter someone's world and hang out for a little while—slice of life films. The protagonist was particularly compelling because, like Alice, I am also a 34-(okay, she's 35)-year-old white woman, but our lives are vastly different. 

When the film opens on Alice's life, we get pulled into her less-than-happy home. I jotted down some notes while watching the movie, one of the first things I had down was, "'Please keep him' husband." I have met a lot of women who have probably had husbands like Donald in my nursing homes. There were so many times when we'd meet with the wives of patients for discharge planning (or planning for the return home following a short-term rehabilitation stay), and the patient's wives would beg us to keep them long-term—"Please. Keep him." These women's worlds were ruled by men for most of their lives. Now, here they were, in their 70s or 80s. They experienced a few weeks or months of freedom, and they didn't want to return to their previous life. They didn't want to go back to regulating a man's emotions and caring for all his needs. They had a glimpse of what life could be like after so many years of walking on eggshells or trying their best, just to be ignored or talked down to by him. The thought of going back was too much to bear for these women. 

This type of relationship was the reality for many women at this time—it still is for some people. These women didn't necessarily have the agency or means to leave their husbands, and they were socialized in a heavily sexist world. They, like Alice, felt like they needed a man around. And legally, they had very little protection. No-fault divorce laws didn't start gaining traction until the 1970s, women needed a male co-signer to get a credit card until 1974, and marital rape was legal until 1993. 

But, back to the film. The intimate moments we see of Alice and Donald before his death are heartbreaking. You can see the sorrow in her eyes when she makes his favorite dinner, but he doesn't react. It's painful to watch her try to engage him as he's watching TV in bed; he gives such terse answers, and only gives her some affection when she completely breaks down crying. After her husband dies, we do not see the picture of a grieving widow. I didn't feel sad at all about his death, and we don't really see Alice or her son react strongly to it. The biggest concern is how are they going to survive now. This is when we learn that she has some grit in her. She makes a plan and starts to act on it. Powerlessness and powerfulness are closely intertwined in Alice's character throughout the film. 

When I saw Alice sitting at the piano singing "Where or When," I really thought it was foreshadowing that she would be going back to the version of herself she was before marriage—the version we catch a glimpse of in the very theatrical opening scene depicting her as a girl determined to make it. I thought the words were meant to be as if Alice was talking to a young version of herself. I wanted this to be a film about Alice finding herself and falling in love with herself again. But that, unfortunately, wasn't the case.

I appreciated how the film depicted the other important relationships in Alice's life. Both her friendship with her neighbor and friendship with Flo were believable. I also liked her relationship with her son. There is a moment of such tenderness between her and her son near the start of the film when they are in their motel room in bed, and you can hear a couple fighting in a different room. Even though Alice's son is asleep, she covers his ears. And it's kind of heartbreaking. It stood out to me so much that she wanted to protect this boy from seeing any more anger or violence in a domestic setting, maybe stopping him from absorbing that energy and learning that is how men can act. I thought that this might be a turning point for her. However, throughout the film, Alice keeps falling into the same pattern of meeting men who act violently around/towards her or other women. 

I don't think we can write off the actions of these men as the norm or acceptability. I know so many wonderful men who do not act like this. But I know that I am looking at these relationships from a very privileged lens of growing up in that stable home, with both of my parents also having grown up in stable homes. I am not someone who has had to work to break a cycle of violence. It's an extreme privilege. It's a privilege I don't take for granted. My sisters and I were also given the tools we needed to never feel like we would need to rely on a man, and had the education needed to pursue careers of our own. Both of these factors have shaped all of my own relationships. I've only ever been with caring and stable partners. I don't associate masculinity with dominance and have never once felt unsafe with any of my sexual or romantic partners. I have never seen a man act firsthand with the type of anger that we see in Alice's partners. I can tell you that if anyone ever acted in that manner around me, I would immediately leave. 

I wish she went to Monterey even if she couldn't become a singer. I wish she would have returned to where she was last happy and last felt that familial support. Maybe it's more realistic that she didn't. David is likable and seems to be the best of the men she is involved with (he's also the best looking of the men she's been with—that's neither here nor there, haha), but he's still a man who would hit her child and break a record out of anger. Maybe it was an out of character moment, but it could just be the tip of the iceberg for his own unresolved anger issues. I take pause in calling this a romantic story; it's more a look at a woman's life who can't seem to break out of destructive patterns. I feel bad for Alice through the film. But I also think that if I had been friends with her, there probably wouldn't have been anything I could say that would have changed how she viewed relationships and men.

Favorite lines in the movie: "You look like you've been embalmed." "Don't look back, you'll turn into a pillar of shit." "Sexy for Phoenix." 

Score: 3.8/5

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GROUP AVERAGE GRADE: 3.55 out of 5

Okay, see y'all in the comments. Much appreciated!

NEXT TIME: It's prison drama week. Let's start with a more modern take in Brawl in Cell Block 99.