"Masterpiece art," wrote Manny Farber in his essay "White Elephant Art VS. Termite Art", "reminiscent of the enameled tobacco humidors and wooden lawn ponies bought at white elephant auctions decades ago, has come to dominate the overpopulated arts of TV and movies. The three sins of white elephant art (1) frame the action with an all-over pattern, (2) install every event, character, situation in a frieze of continuities, and (3) treat every inch of the screen and film as a potential area for prizeworthy creativity."
I'm pretty confident Farber would call I Want to Live white elephant art. Susan Hayward's Oscar-winning performance was obnoxiously one-note. David Thompson hits it on the head when he says of Hayward, "If, as I feel, she is largely devoid of appeal, it is a credit to her determination and uncompromising directness that she lasted so long." I Want to Live almost taunts you with its A-film values. You like the nightclub scenes from shoddy B-noirs? Well, we hired Art Farmer! This film sucks the zest from a B-noir, jettisons the illicit fun that can be had from a pulp plot and crams middle class values down your throat. But to finish with Farber (this time from his essay "Underground Films": "this prize picture... has every reason to be successful. It has been made for that purpose. Thus, the year's winner is a perfect film made up of solely of holes and evasions, covered up by all types of padding and plush." Plus, they use a baseball bat to pound in life lessons that you learned in kindergarten. Beware of sanctimonious bullshit, friends!
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