Joan Crawford’s screen persona ran the gamut—from flapper-comedienne in the 1920s to Hollywood tough gal in the’30s and ’40s to more vulnerable characters in the ’50s to a camped-up version of herself in schlocky genre films of the ’60s and ’70s. Along the way, a number of films cemented her as an indelible presence. Mildred Pierce, which is showing this Saturday and Sunday at the Music Box, was one; here are five more.
Johnny GuitarNicholas Ray’s great sur-western (1954), in which, as Francois Truffaut put it, the cowboys circle and die like ballerinas. For all its violence, this is a surpassingly tender, sensitive film, Ray’s gentlest statement of his outsider theme. Joan Crawford, with a mature, reflective quality she never recaptured, is the owner of a small-town saloon; Sterling Hayden is the enigmatic gunfighter who comes to her aid when the townspeople turn on her. Filmed in the short-lived (but well-preserved) Trucolor process, its hues are pastel and boldly deployed, and the use of space is equally daring and expressive. With Mercedes McCambridge, unforgettable as Crawford’s butch nemesis, as well as Ernest Borgnine, Scott Brady, John Carradine, Royal Dano, Ward Bond, and Ben Cooper. 110 min. —Dave Kehr
