The few people who have seen Lipstick remember it vividly, even
though they probably saw it many decades ago. It's a story about the
rape of a supermodel, and the trial of the rapist. Although the realism
of the rape can't be compared to some more recent films like
Irreversible, it was all too realistic by 1976 standards, and it
triggered a debate over whether the graphic portrayal of the rape scene
was necessary to create revulsion for the rapist, or was simply
melodramatic exploitation designed to fulfill the dominance fantasies of
male members of the audience. Was it a turn-on or a turn-off?
Women, even feminist women, were divided on the question. Many female
intellectuals felt that the movie was pure cheesy exploitation, while
others felt that the film accurately and importantly portrayed two
ancillary aspects of the rape:
- The marketing of sex in our society that makes men think of women
as sexual objects.
- The process by which a rape trial may humiliate the victim as much
or more than the rape itself.
The supermodel was raped by her little sister's unstable music
teacher. At the request of the student/sister, he had come to their
apartment to play them some of his unique synthesized compositions,
which were basically eerie sounds combining abstract modern music with
ambient noise. The phone rang while he was playing his music for the
supermodel, and she used the phone call as an excuse to get away from
the cacophony. He took that departure as a grave insult, and his burning
anger turned to brutality.
The woman reported the crime, went to trial, experienced all the
attendant humiliation, then heard the jury say "not guilty". Back out on
the streets and not satisfied to lie low after his lucky break, the
rapist took the first available opportunity to rape the supermodel's
13-year-old sister. When that second rape happened during a photo shoot,
the supermodel, still wearing an elegant ball gown, went out to her car,
got a big game rifle, and avenged her sister by gunning the rapist down
like an animal in the streets of L.A. In a postscript, the audience was
told that she was found "not guilty" in her own trial.
That sounds improbable and melodramatic, but probably not totally
foolish, right?
Wrong.
It was totally foolish, for several reasons:
1. The supermodel was played by a genuine supermodel, Margaux
Hemingway, the face of Babe perfume. The critics excoriated her
performance. Looking back on it now and trying to remain objective, I
don't think that she did a bad acting job, certainly not by supermodel
standards, but Margaux seemed worthy of ridicule because she had a
hilarious cartoon voice that sounded quite a bit like quacking, and
she also had a pronounced speech impediment. She did have some weak
line readings, but in some other scenes she seemed quite convincing,
especially in the scenes with her sister. That didn't really matter,
given her voice. Imagine a brutal, realistic rape drama in which the
beautiful victim talks like Donald Duck, and you'll see why the
critics had a field day with Margaux. Even with the extreme gravity of
the subject matter, it is not easy to suppress laughter when Margaux
is speaking. Her voice, the film's melodrama, and the turgid dialogue
could be viewed as ultra-high camp if it were about some subject other
than rape.
Margaux took such a critical lambasting that she was offered only
two roles in the next seven years, and one of those was a minor part
in a bad movie of legendary status (They Call Me Bruce?). Despondent
over her failing career fortunes and two bad marriages, she suffered
through a mammoth weight gain, substance abuse, and bankruptcy. She
was living in a small apartment over a garage in Santa Monica, when
she was found dead in 1996 at the age of 41. As reported by CNN, the
L.A. Coroner ruled that she committed suicide. Suicide is another
Hemingway tradition. Ernest Hemingway himself committed suicide, as
did his brother, sister and father. Margaux's sister Mariel disputes
the suicide conclusion in Margaux's case, arguing that Margaux seems
to have suffered an epileptic seizure exacerbated by her substance
abuse. Mariel's position is that Margaux was a drama queen who would
have left a suicide note, and that she was found with her legs propped
on a pillow and a book in her lap, a condition not indicative of
suicide.
2. Some scenes just came out of nowhere. Before the last day of the
trial, Margaux was at home asleep. She picked up her phone, and heard
some of the music teacher's weird, discordant compositions. The camera
then cut to the other side of the call, revealing the naked music
teacher, holding the receiver to a speaker. I suppose that could have
been worked into the plot somehow, but it wasn't. The scene existed in
complete isolation. The next scene took place in court the next day,
and nobody spoke of the phone call again.
3. A big game rifle? She was "the hottest model in the world". I
suppose some L.A. supermodels at that level might keep a loaded big
game rifle in their car, but I'd have to figure the percentage is
pretty low. Of course, they were heading to the mountains and
Margaux's last name was Hemingway, so I suppose it was a family
tradition.
4. What could have been her legal defense when she killed the guy?
I know that the scriptwriter wanted to see her get off, but the film
should have ended with her standing over the body in her ball gown,
still pointing her rifle. (Ending it there would have been more
cinematic as well.) Her slaying of the rapist was premeditated,
calculated murder, and to make it more egregious, she was firing off
round after round in a parking lot and then on a major thoroughfare in
downtown L.A., oblivious to passers-by. It was only by sheer chance
that she didn't kill fifty people, because Mr Rapist was driving a
car. After she fired the first two shots, the rapist's car went out of
control into a city street and flipped over. Yes, of course the guy
deserved what he got, but that's no legal defense.
I did learn something from this movie. The D.A. played a sample of
the rapist's music for the jury. Everyone in the courtroom was instantly
able to conclude that a man is capable of murder if he can create sounds
consisting of a synthesizer and ocean noises. I hadn't thought of that
before, but it's hard to disagree. The police should go to all the
candle shops in America, pick up those "noises of nature" tapes, and add
the authors to their database of usual suspects.
