FOR LOVE OF IVY 1968 lecinemadreams.blogspot.com /2015/08/for-love-of-ivy-1968.html
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. 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. Sidney Poitier as Jack Parks (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 afro1/13
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. Sidney Poitier’s screen persona—that of the non-threatening, nobly acquiescing, almost saintly black male—embodied the assimilationist ideals of the early days of the Civil Rights Movement. But it wasn’t long before factions of the African-American community began to find the sexless, selfless characters Poitier played in films like A Patch of Blue (1965) and Lilies of the Field more representative of white fantasy than black reality. In the tumultuous social climate of the late '60s, as Civil Rights assimilation gave way to the more self-identifying thrust of the Black Power Movement, and galvanizing events like the 1968 assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. (four months after the release of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?) signaled a new self-determination and militancy; Poitier's image (inseparable from Poitier the actor) had become an anachronism. 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." 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
Abbey Lincoln as Ivy Moore
Beau Bridges as Tim Austin
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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 farcical plot is negligible, but the context is what fascinates. The well-intentioned Austins mistake their need for Ivy with actual concern for her welfare. She's a buffer between the acrimonious father and son, a sister of sorts to the daughter, and she completely runs the household. White liberalism is lampooned, black self-reliance is championed, and among a cast of characters at loggerheads over how to best live their lives, Ivy emerges the one clear-headed individual who never strays from her desire to strike out on her own and make a life for herself.
Lauri Peters as Gena Austin
Leon Bibb as Billy Talbot
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, selfassured, independent, and imperfect—are black. A rarity then, and not exactly a commonplace occurrence now.
With a screenplay adapted by Robert Alan Carroll O'Connor as Frank Austin 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 3/13
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. 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.
Nan Martin as Doris Austin
Surprisingly, this feather-light comedy was directed by Daniel 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 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 4/13
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.
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 Set-Up
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For Love of Ivy was taken to task for being corny in the Swinging 60s. In today's atmosphere of misogynist, mean-spirited rom-coms, the respectful, genuinely sweet romance at the center of the film looks positively cutting-edge.
After nearly 20 years in the business, leading man Sidney Poitier finally gets a love scene
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Ivy Is The Only Austin "Family" Member Required To Use The Service Entrance This silent, throwaway shot of Ivy returning home from a date contains the crux of the reason she wants to leave. A reason right under the noses of the people who profess love for her, yet are unable to understand why she wants to quit.
"What do you want?" "I'm not sure. I just know I haven't got it now."
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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. PERFORMANCES 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 easylaugh 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. 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 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. 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. Making her film debut (far right): Jennifer O'Neill of The Summer of '42 (1971)
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
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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
Making her film debut (far right): Gloria Hendry, the first black Bond Girl in Live & Let Die (1973)
Tim Harbors A Not-Too-Secret Crush On Ivy No stranger to onscreen interracial relationships, Bridges fell in love with Diana Sands in 1970s The Landlord, and most recently, portrayed Tracee Ellis Ross' father on the TV show, Black-ish
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. 9/13
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. Along with Two for the Road and A New Leaf, For Love of Ivy is one of my top favorite romantic comedies. Nostalgia plays a role (after all, it was released the same year as so many of my most beloved films: Rosemary's Baby, Barbarella, Secret Ceremony, etc.), as does sentiment (Poitier & Lincoln have chemistry to spare). But there's also a bittersweet element. I think of Sidney Poitier's heroic career and all he sacrificed in the way of personal choice, taking on roles because of his deeply felt sense of social responsibility. I think of Abbey Lincoln and all the other black actresses whose gifts we've all been deprived of because nobody was writing roles like this for black women. 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
Not really given much to do in this film, Nan Martin would go on to play a tougher version of the same role the following year in Goodbye Columbus. Carroll O'Connor, along with his fame from All in the Famil y, would play the Rod Steiger role in the long-running TV series based on Poitier's film In The Heat of the Night
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?).
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For Love of Ivy Should Have Made the Beautiful and Gifted Abbey Lincoln a Movie Star Nominated for a Golden Globe, she wisely (in terms of holding onto her sanity and dignity) stuck to her music career. Lincoln didn't make another film until 1990 - Spike Lee's Mo' Betta Blues.
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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
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.
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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
Copyright Š Ken Anderson
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