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Mildred Pierce, James M. Cain’s 1941 novel about pride, struggle and ambition, was adapted for the silver screen in 1945. It had many differences from the book, and by extension from the HBO adaptation, 66 years on. For one thing, it is much more melodramatic, for another, there is a murder-mystery shoehorned in. The main difference though is between the actresses chosen to play the eponymous heroine. Joan Crawford and Kate Winslet could not be more different, and those faithful to the film will not be pleased. Those who were looking forward to an accurate adaptation of the book, however, with its explorations of class, gender, and social ambition set on a backdrop of depression-era America, will approve of the decision to cast Winslet in a role which requires a deeply nuanced performance.
By far the best thing about the opening episode of HBO’s miniseries is Winslet. She is capable of such subtlety in her performances that she draws you in and makes you want to witness al that she can offer. At once she offers stoic reliability and utter vulnerability with a face which is at once beautiful and ordinary. The Mildred in the novel does not possess great beauty, rather an unmistakeable appeal. Winslet manages to hide her beauty until necessary and then reveals it in a scene of stoicism or of triumph. At her best, in a battle of wills between Mildred and a prospective employer, her face is at its most beautiful when portraying rugged determination.
So compelling is Winslet, we can just about forgive the plot’s failings. When it says ‘faithful’ it means it, and the series suffers somewhat by what is an admirable attention to detail, that sadly makes the action very slow. Lingering shots upon sad suburban homes, kitchenware, sad women’s faces and period details, not to mention painstakingly accurate speech and action make the opening episode drag a little. My attention wandered occasionally, but it always came back because what the episode did do was convey the seemingly insurmountable problems faced by so-called grass widows in this era. The audience is drawn towards the women, not only Mildred but also her friend Lucy and her new boss, Ida.
What will keep audiences coming back is the promise of the bitter and obsessive struggle between mother and daughter. Mildred’s younger daughter is normal and nice, but her older daughter, Veda, hints at something more unsettling. She is haughty, a snob, and she will become the focus of her mother’s life, since she “has something which I thought I had, nobility; pride”. These words are spoken as Mildred asks Lucy to keep her new occupation as a waitress a secret, since Veda would not approve. The final shot, of the back of Veda’s head, indicating that she has been listening, does not reveal her reaction, but if you know the book is a sure indicator of what turmoil is to come. Hopefully the next episodes will pick up the pace, and let this adaptation do itself justice.
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