- Location: Plane from SFO to Hawaii
- "People are fascinating, wherever you find them." That's why radio personality Marcia Jeffries (Patricia Neal) puts a microphone on the occupants of a county jail cell in Pickett, Arkansas. Most of the inmates are reluctant to say much, but a drifter named Larry Rhodes (Andy Griffith) is more than happy to haul out his guitar and belt out a few tunes. On second thought, I suppose that he only volunteered on the condition that he would be (as the song says) a "Free Man in the Mornin'", but no matter. Between Rhodes' infectious laugh and Marcia's marketing talent, the latter of which invents the nickname "Lonesome" Rhodes, this charismatic vagabond may just become the next big thing.
- Once Marcia drags him into town and gets him cleaned up, Lonesome Rhodes begins to make a name for himself. In addition to his talents with the guitar, Rhodes is a master of homespun wisdom and folk sayings. Although he attributes much of his common-sense country philosophy to his humble hometown of "Riddle," it's increasingly clear that no such place ever existed. Nevertheless, housewives love him because he lends a voice to their plight. Advertisers tolerate him because he represents an increase in sales, even if it is at the expense of their pride. When he hears that the sheriff who jailed him is up for re-election, he sends hundreds of dog owners to lay siege to his home. Before long, Rhodes is on television, hocking "Vitajex" pep pills and helping senators to get elected. By his own admission, he's no longer "just an entertainer." He's "an influence, a wielder of opinion, a force."
- But lest we forget, Lonesome Rhodes is not the only character in this drama. While Rhodes builds the empires, he needs Marcia there to prop them up. At first, she watches his success bloom with a certain wide-eyed excitement that hints she's in this for more than just the ratings. As Rhodes' star rises, however, personal and professional obstacles continue to drive them apart. First it's those girls who always seem to be delivering Rhodes his breakfast. Then there's his sleazy manager Joey DePalma (Anthony Franciosa), who plays all the angles that Marcia never would. The last straw, however, is Rhodes' precocious young drum majorette-turned-bride, Betty Lou Fleckum (Lee Remick), whom Marcia describes as Rhodes' "public, all wrapped up with yellow ribbons into one cute little package." As Marcia withdraws into a bitter depression, it is only her not-so-secret admirer, writer Mel Miller (Walter Matthau), who stays resolutely by her side. In a characteristically grandiloquent speech, Miller explains how "windy extroverts" like Rhodes "have a strange attraction for nice girls." But eventually even nice girls find a way to fight back.
- A Face in the Crowd is easily one of the best films I've ever seen and one of the most impressive convergences of great writing, acting, and directing. Budd Schulberg's dynamic script handles with equal skill the "aw, shucks" country bumpkins, the "gee whiz" ad execs, and everybody in between. Likewise, Griffith, Neal, and Matthau prove that they are worthy of such great lines by putting in some of the best performances of their lives. Griffith absolutely electrifies the film with his mesmerizing guffaw, and Neal's quivering enthusiasm and contrasting despondency are truly convincing. Of course, much of the film's success should also be attributed to the director, Elia Kazan. The wonderfully surreal Vitajex sequence, in particular, uses the montage to great effect, pasting Rhodes' personality and television's special brand of snake oil sales together into one hilarious and disturbingly realistic advertisement.
- As for the film's modern relevance, I submit the following. Near the point when Rhodes' egomania hits the stratosphere, he describes his devoted audience: "Rednecks, crackers, hillbillies, hausfraus, shut-ins, pea-pickers, everybody that's got to jump when somebody else blows the whistle...they're mine! I own 'em! They think like I do. Only they're even more stupid than I am, so I gotta think for 'em!" Therein lies the timelessness of this film. I have trouble hearing that particular speech without immediately recalling certain presidential campaigns and talk radio pundits. And that's to say nothing of viewing the Vitajex commercial without thinking of Viagra. It's been over fifty years since A Face in the Crowd was released, and apparently nothing has changed except the trajectory of Andy Griffith's career. These days, there's no shortage of so-called personalities who are famous only by virtue of being on television and yelling a lot. When such power is wielded benevolently, Oprah's bookclub determines what shows up on the New York Times' bestseller list. When put to more sinister ends, you get any of several cults of personality that dominate what passes for televised political discourse these days. In that respect, this otherwise amazing film got one thing wrong: Lonesome Rhodes got what he deserved, but his real-life antecedents rarely do.
- Although I saw this on the plane, I reviewed it after seeing it again at the AFI.
- When I saw this film at the AFI, it was introduced by film historian Foster Hirsch and one of the drum majorettes who knew Lee Remick. Great stories!
- Apparently, the real town is named "Piggott, Arkansas."
- This was Lee Remick's debut film.
