It would be interesting to know just how much (or how little) Mike Sarne's Joanna grossed during its initial 1968 run. One guesses that it might have drawn semi-decent box office, based on the studio's willingness to hand Sarne another directing gig. Bad move. In some respects, the content of this picture should have spared everyone the misery of watching this man helm any additional films. In 40-year retrospect, Joanna's surfeit of poor directorial choices (from the first frame to the last) clearly foreshadow all of the the self-indulgent excess inherent in Myra Breckinridge. But unlike Myra, Joanna (for better or worse) isn't without her charms. Sure, the film is rife to bursting with self-indulgence -- such as the "Hail, Hitler" imposition on the soundtrack immediately following Beryl's mention of the Nazi party. And these choices almost sink the picture. Almost. What saves Joanna are the overwhelmingly bright, Demy-ish pop colors that fill Sarne's canvas from first frame to last; the occasionally inspired stylistic breaks in the action -- such as the closing-credits musical number, which taken alone is one of the most uplifting and exhilarating sequences of its kind in movie history -- and, above all else, the central character. Thanks in no small part to actress Genevieve Waïte, Joanna herself is such an endearing creation -- so sweet, innocent, and charming -- that she ultimately transcends the material and deserves to be in a much better movie. It is this quality (above all others) that really explains and justifies the film's loyal cult following of folks who caught Joanna back in 1968. Donald Sutherland also does a nice job in a supporting role as Lord Peter Sanderson, an aristocrat dying of leukemia; his performance is beautifully modulated, as is his interpretation of the character -- playing Sanderson as a man who has chosen whimsy and merriment to drive the melancholia out of his life. No mistake about it: Joanna is one of those films where a number of the compositional elements are so strong and demonstrate such potential that the work aches for less onanistic direction.
by Nathan Southern
review
