Joanna

Mr. Sarne's portrait of an era, now seems often laughable and ludicrous, not unlike many other feature films that intended to demonstrate the importance of one single period, specially such a difficult one as the 60s - they just seem to loose their punch throughout the years. Although 'Joanna' does provide enjoyable, light moments, most of them are all too heavy handed, and unconnected. The movie relies on a number of senseless episodes to show us the story of a young woman yearning to find an adult identity in London, during the late 60s. What could be a sensible, lovely little story - if properly told - is wounded by Ms. Waite's inexperience, as she sleepwalks through the movie, and can only act appalled and shocked during the major conflicts of the story, Mr. Sarne's hideously pretentious, pompous direction, and Mr. Rod McKuen's tedious soundtrack, only highlighted at the movie's ending, in which the entire cast join in a train station singing the title tune - 'you fill our hearts with hope, your smile's like Cinemascope' - while Joanna departs to have her baby, still, as imature, childish and unprepared as she was in the beginning of the movie.

Director Michael Sarne would have the filmgoing public believe that the studios, the actors (in MYRA BRECKINRIDGE in particular), and 'the system' torpedoed his career. But, when one sees his single picture of note, JOANNA, on the big screen in a rare public showing - One discovers that the film world did not lose much. Composer Rod McKuen attended this weekend's American Cinemateque screening and revealed that the title character was a thinly autobiographical substitute for the director himself (Joanna's surname is 'Sarne' after all).

On paper, it would seem to make an exciting story - Young and handsome teen comes to London; Dresses in chic fashions; Hangs out with the 'in' crowd; Has sex with every other person one meets; Parties every night; Travels to exotic lands etc. How odd then that so much of the film wanders around aimlessly from venue to venue, from person to person, from incident to incident with so little meaning or consequence. It's rare that someone would find his own life so aimless. That aimlessness is certainly a part of what Sarne was after, but almost certainly not to the degree portrayed here.

To be fair, there are flashes of genuine artistic talent (and some can be mined from MYRA BRECKINRIDGE as well). The opening and closing title sequences are terrific, playful and inspired. Color, sound and editing are experimentmented with in interesting ways. A long sojourn to Morocco is both colorful and meaningful. The middle of the picture is indeed dominated by Donald Sutherland as a rich dude who takes Joanna and some friends to Africa. Affecting a bizarre stuttering accent, one can't help but be entertained, even if one suspects that much of the reaction of modern audiences is the result of familiarity with Sutherland more than the skill of the performance (indeed McKuen insisted that Sutherland's accent came and went so frequently that much of his performance had to be edited around and drowned in his music!).

Certainly an interesting document of its time (with the 'shocking' inclusion of not one but two interracial romances, free sex, and the intrusion of unnecessary violence into young people's lives - a nod to Vietnam?), JOANNA is a fascinating failure.

I knew there was something special about this movie after my law school roommate asked me out of the blue how many times I'd seen Joanna. Turned out he had another friend who spent every weekend looking for this movie in the theaters (we're talking pre-video tape days here folks). I remember being carried away by the romance of this movie, feeling totally part of the London scene it portrayed, and I liked Donald Sutherland (whom I'd never seen act before) quite a lot. I guess Genevieve Waite never made it big as a film actress, but that picture of her clothed only in a necktie that ran in the New York Times ad for this film, with the trailer "Cult Film of the Decade," sure made an impression on me in my early 20's. Highly recommended.

It is silly the way we talk about movies. They are not meant for the ages but for slices of time. Once in a great great while one captures something eternal...8 1/2, Third Man, etcetera, but films are social chewing gum. Here is a fine example of an English director of the 1960s doing some turns that were fresh seeming and of the time...playing to the camera in the post dramatic sequence...don't tell me that wasn't and still would be a kick. And Sutherland's lisping soliloquy in the desert, my first awareness of the Canadian actor. A memorable film, one with some fans, many deprecators. But that's what makes horse races. Does sit hold up to critical analysis? Probably not, certainly not in the context of a lot that has followed. But lovely and fresh and exciting at the time, just like that first date with the sweet fresh girl who is now the woman with the scar from the auto accident. We change, the cinema changes. Films are not for the ages, after all, but acts of commerce sometimes tinged with art and freighted with our associations.

I remember absolutely nothing about this movie...but I will never forget the night that my wife & I went to see it. It was April 29, 1969. I was 22 years old, had graduated from college the previous June, married and had a 9-week old son. And my life was about to be turned upside down....and possibly ended in Vietnam....as I had to report to the local draft board to be inducted into the army at 9 AM the next morning. For some reason, we decided to go out for dinner and to see this movie. To say that I was in a state of total depression would be putting it mildly. With my mind the state it was in when I saw this movie, knowing that I was about to leave my job, my wife, my 9-week old son & my life as I knew it, I'm afraid that I can't help anyone with any kind of a review....but that night from 50 years ago lives in my memory as if it was only yesterday.