By Spidey Vi
Minor spoiler ahead.
Directed by a woman on a shoestring budget of $1.5 million, Desert Hearts (1985) was one of the pioneers in its genre to feature positive onscreen portrayals of a lesbian romance, as well as a groundbreaking box office of $2.5 million in its theatrical release in the United States and Canada. The romantic drama film was documentary filmmaker Donna Deitch’s first feature, with a screenplay penned by Natalie Cooper, adapted from Jane Rule’s 1964 novel, Desert of the Heart.
Set in 1959, Desert Hearts follows Vivian Bell (Helen Shaver), who travels to Reno, Nevada, to get a no-fault divorce, where she stays in a dude ranch [a vacation resort] run by Francis Parker. The 35-year-old English professor arrives in her straitlaced New York fashions, almost seeming flung out of space in the desert landscape. While having second thoughts about not staying in a hotel, she bumps into Francis’ surrogate daughter – the 25-year-old Cay Rivers (Patricia Charbonneau, her first acting role), a free-spirited tomboy who falls in love with Vivian at first sight.
Back in the 80s, when explicit sex scenes were considered as pornography by most feminist viewers, it was a rare sight to see sapphic films like these thrive in the genre. Donna Deitch and her beloved cast surprisingly made a name for themselves through Desert Hearts (all while risking the actresses’ career) – a simple film with such thought-provoking production that I would happily crown as one of the “underrated period pieces that fits perfectly to the contemporary lesbian cinema”.
Here’s why:
First off, the silent yearning that screams through the screen. The lingering gazes across the dance floor, the exchange of genuine smiles, the strange yet electrifying tension between them. When her confidante, Silver, picks up the slight change in the playgirl’s behaviour, Cay blushingly admits her crush on Vivian – I just say her name, and I want to smile – while also expressing concern about their age gap. In the subsequent scenes, she actively initiates spending time with Vivian, as every lovesick person would. On the other hand, we follow Vivian, a poised and educated woman who strives for order, as she stumbles into a mix of emotions when her life is disrupted by a carefree young lady before finally deciding to give in to her desire. Much like The Portrait of Lady on Fire (2019), the two resemble an opposite-attract trope, and their onscreen chemistry is just so adorkable to watch. If it’s what your heart desires, it’s worth making a move – even if you’ve been saying goodbyes from the beginning.
Cliché enough for a queer film, the conservative stepmother Francis Parker took up an antagonistic role in Desert Hearts. She disapproves of Cay’s flamboyant lifestyle and tries to warn Vivian about Cay. Upon discovering their underground romance, which causes gossip around town, she humiliates Vivian and kicks her out of the ranch, resulting in an enraged Cay moving out to get rid of her supervision. However, we also get glimpses of Francis’ struggles as a depressed widow, and hence would empathize with her aggression as a coping mechanism out of loneliness and old-schooled mindset rather than a plain homophobic evil. As much as Francis refuses to accept Cay’s choice of partners, she clings to her daughter’s figure for being the only family member present, whereas Cay remains respectful and considerate of Francis despite heated conversations. Eventually, they only hope the best for one another – to find someone who reaches in and puts a string of lights around their hearts.
The cinematography by Robert Elswit was nicely done throughout the film, and thanks to him, the one scene that utilised the framing technique left the audience mind-blown. At the end of Act 2, a befuddled Vivian finds Cay outside her hotel room, hoping to reconcile. While defending herself as a respected scholar over their act of indiscretion, Vivian distances herself from the young lady to a point where she stands behind a wall. In the close-up shot, she grumbles about her resentment towards Reno, before a swift pan of the camera presents to Vivian and the audience – a naked Cay in bed in the background. The clever act withholds information outside the frame, only to be revealed as an unexpected shocker to both the character and the viewers. Too smooth.
In summary, the film makes no significant statement on lesbianism, though the subtle attraction between two souls is what lingers in the audience’s mind long after the credits roll, making it simple yet swoon-worthy for the right demographic.
Oh, and Happy Pride Month!!
