Before Jo gets to mom’s, she and her sister, Fran (Audrey Matson), pop into a diner, where a guy named Dana (Kenneth Ryan), wearing workman’s blues, gets up from a table with his wife and kids to approach her. It feels simultaneously uninhibited and intensely private.Īdams’ character, Jo, has shown up, a little drunk, to spend time with the ailing, devoutly Christian snowball of a woman who adopted her, a woman who’s being moved into some kind of care facility that she seems destined to turn into an igloo.
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Where’s she going? Where’s she coming from? Who has she left? (We don’t need a shot of the plane in the air, because Adams is clearly the one in flight.) A beauty of this movie is that Roemer doesn’t supply us with every detail. The expressions double as musical overture, the whole movie previewed right there in one face but not given completely away. It still feels original, in other words - one of those movies that somebody wrote and directed (Roemer, in this case) but that feels controlled entirely, engrossingly by human impulse, lawless in its way.Īdams’ face, in the opening sequence set on a just-landed airplane, unspools a gallery of feeling - moony to rueful to glum to chagrined and somewhere amid all of those is more mooniness (she’s made the drink cart’s acquaintance). And what you’ll witness is an American movie executed with a French film’s interpersonal insouciance. Now, it’s called “Vengeance Is Mine,” it’s playing at Film Forum, and it is there for the world to behold. “Haunted” wound up, instead, on PBS’s “American Playhouse” with scant public awareness, let alone any kind of full-throated appreciation. That’s what Roemer had settled on calling “Vengeance Is Mine” 38 years ago, when it never got a proper theatrical release never got the rapturous - or even fair or serious - reviews it deserved never, therefore, experienced the paying art-house audience that would have clogged a theater lobby arguing about what the hell they just saw. To be fair to Adams, “Haunted” is the movie she might have thought she was at the center of.
When you’ve got a great part in a fantastic movie (and this movie’s fantastic, not to mention fantastical), an actor can flesh out “sexpot” so that what she is playing is pure vibrancy.
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So what a shock to see her going to town on this dramatic comedy, by Michael Roemer, about a woman who drops in on her Massachusetts family and, after a series of utterly unexpected emotional entanglements, spends the whole movie not quite dropping out. That husky voice her sharp, sympathetic face an innate sense of humor: She was a gentleman’s idea of a sexpot - spinning her eyeballs for Donald Sutherland in “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” coveted by Richard Gere in “Days of Heaven” in “Cuba” all but strapped to Sean Connery, like a suicide vest. But not a character fleshed out enough to do vengeance.
And by 1984, the movies had never let her near anything close. For a title like that, you need viciousness or fury or a ripe sense of victimhood. Brooke Adams has never struck me as a “Vengeance Is Mine” sort of actor.
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