Reviews of Recent Independent, Foreign, & Documentary Films in Theaters and DVD/Home Video
ALICE DOESN'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE
Made during the burgeoning women's liberation movement, 1974's Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore is rooted in
convention. Indeed, it is unlike the more typical fare of director Martin Scorsese's output. It is essentially a genre piece in
the tradition of the old-fashioned studio melodramas helmed by such masters as Douglas Sirk. Alice, a quietly
despairing housewife (played by the guileless and sardonic Ellen Burstyn) has structured her life
around her husband. When he dies, she pursues her dreams while raising their son by herself.
From the outset, the viewer is aware of the tension between the film's realistic, modern content and its form, through
its treacly musical soundtrack, its wild juxtaposition of bright colors, and its silhouetted figures in a
perfectly-composed bravura opening shot. These all reek of a MGM big-budget extravaganza, in contrast to the
grittiness of this loopy Alice in Wonderland-type fantasy (a story that is obviously referenced in
the film's title). The disparity is evident in the film’s handheld cinéma vérité shots and its
blatantly absurdist flourishes, such as the antics of Vera, an implausibly oblivious waitress at the
diner where Alice works (hilariously played by Valerie Curtin). As a whole, Alice is ambivalent: even when pointing out that
women should not allow men to compromise their lives, the heroine declare she does not know how to
live without a man.
DVD Extras: On both the commentary and featurette, Burstyn and Scorsese reveal the
film's ambiguous ending emerged from the studio execs and filmmakers reaching a compromise.
Kris Kristofferson's character leaves town with Alice so she can fulfill her dream of becoming a
singer, instead of her having to sacrifice her goals to stay with him. Significantly, while the
actress states the ending is appropriate, the director views it as more of a concession to the
requirements of the melodrama genre. Scorsese insists the film's coda is not meant to
detract from its true ending, which he considers to have occurred earlier. Finally, Scorsese
confesses he sees his own family dynamics in the relationship of Alice and her son Tommy (a
delightfully bratty Alfred Lutter). Reymond Levy
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