The controversial life of
1920s evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson has been fictionalized many times, but,
to date, no one has attempted a proper biopic. By default, that means the
made-for-TV mystery The Disappearance of
Aimee is the most significant movie about one of the Jazz Age’s most
fascinating characters. Focusing on a scandalous trial during which McPherson
was accused of faking her own kidnapping, the movie boasts two impressive
stars: Big-screen actress Faye Dunaway plays McPherson, and Hollywood legend
Bette Davis plays her mother. It’s not hard to guess what lured Dunaway to the
role, because it’s a showy part full of contradictions, and the centerpiece of
the film is an epic-length monologue. Dunaway’s beauty, charisma, and intensity
serve the picture well, giving the screen version of McPherson magnetism akin
to the messianic power the real McPherson held over her millions of followers.
However, John McGreevey’s script lacks a strong point of view. Although the
picture subtly implies that public skepticism about McPherson’s kidnapping
story was justified, The Disappearance of
Aimee never makes an argument for one reading of history versus another.
Accordingly, the movie feels unsatisfying despite having been made with a fair
degree of intelligence and skill.
The real facts underpinning the story are as
follows—in 1926, McPherson disappeared while swimming in the Pacific near
Venice, California. Her mother proclaimed McPherson dead to the evangelist’s
megachurch throng and to McPherson’s myriad radio listeners, but some refused to
accept the loss. Reports of sightings poured in, and two people drowned while
searching for her remains. Then McPherson’s mother received a ransom demand
from kidnappers, followed, some time later, by a surprise call from McPherson
herself. The evangelist claimed she escaped from her kidnappers, wandered alone
in the desert, and found her way to a hospital. Los Angeles authorities later
sued McPherson, alleging she violated public morals by fabricating the kidnapping
story to cover up an affair with a married man. The combination of a lack of
evidence and McPherson’s impassioned direct address to the jury complicated the
court proceedings.
While The
Disappearance of Aimee deals with all of this material, too many
interesting scenes are played off-camera. (Presumably the filmmakers thought
that showing McPherson’s kidnapping would legitimize her version of events.)
From sermon scenes to trial scenes, The
Disappearance of Aimee is all talk, talk, talk, culminating in the aforementioned
monologue—a 10-minute speech during which McPherson lays out the particulars of
her abduction. Alas, there’s a world of difference between Dunaway’s monologues
here and her long speeches in the same year’s theatrical feature Network. (McGreevey is no Paddy
Chayefsky.) Still, The Disappearance of
Aimee is interesting, and some elements—including James Woods’ performance
as a snarky investigator—add sharp edges.
The Disappearance of Aimee: FUNKY
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