Violets Are Blue | Chicago Reader

Violets Are Blue

Postfeminist retrenchment, with Sissy Spacek as a fabulously successful Parisian-based photojournalist who finds it all means nothing without a man in her life—and when she returns to her childhood home on the Maryland coast, she finds him in the person of her teenage sweetheart, now matured into doughy family man Kevin Kline. Naomi Foner's linear script spells out every motivation and emotion in capital letters, stripping the characters of any potentially engaging element of depth or mystery, and the issues (love or career?) are set out in the most blatant, unshaded TV movie terms. An ecological subplot (can Spacek and Kline save a herd of wild horses?) has been added to give the proceedings a liberal glow, but the film's reactionary thrust is unmistakable—and, apparently, a major component of the picture's popular appeal. Bonnie Bedelia costars as Kline's contentedly domestic wife; Jack Fisk directed, without betraying the vaguest hint of personality.

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