The Ballad of the Sad Cafe Blu-ray Movie

Rating summary

Movie		3.0
Video		3.5
Audio		4.0
Extras		2.0
Overall		3.0

The Ballad of the Sad Cafe Blu-ray Movie Review

Reviewed by Jeffrey Kauffman December 7, 2022

Have you ever stumbled on an old piece of memorabilia you had forgotten you had, maybe a photo of a long lost family member or something like that, and suddenly been overcome with a wave of nostalgia? Something quite similar happened as I began watching The Ballad of the Sad Café in preparation for writing this review, and was reminded that a rather interesting actor named Cork Hubbert was right up there in the marquee names, alongside such stalwarts as Vanessa Redgrave, Rod Steiger, and Keith Carradine. Those interested in why I was a bit verklempt can consult the closing comments of my Legend Blu-ray review. In those comments, I mention a rather fascinating if now largely forgotten book called The Sweeps, which actually had a dissection of a production that both Cork and I were involved in here in Portland, Oregon, but one of the subtexts of The Sweeps in its discussion of Cork in particular is how hard it had been for Cork to find regular employment as an actor, but that book came out circa 1984, and what was arguably Cork's biggest role in a major feature film, namely this one, was still in the future. Had The Ballad of the Sad Café attracted more attention at the time of its release, it may have led to more interest in Cork, since he's front and center throughout much of this story, but that wasn't to be, and this was in fact Cork's last feature film appearance and one of his last on either the big screen or on television.

Commentator Peter Tonguette contributes an interesting discussion about the film in a supplement included on this disc, and he starts by examining the Merchant Ivory filmography in what might be jokingly called an answer to the question, "When is a Merchant Ivory film not a Merchant Ivory film?" Tonguette has a number of different subcategories for his response, but perhaps unsurprisingly this film fits into what he calls an "upstairs, back room" location in the "house" of Merchant Ivory, in that only Merchant is credited (as a producer) and the film was directed by Simon Callow, a name which will probably resonate most strongly with film fans for his work in front of the camera (including several roles in "actual" Merchant Ivory productions). This was in fact the only film that Callow directed, probably at least in part due to the abysmal box office returns the film generated, but also perhaps because the film itself probably inarguably shows a director struggling to come to terms with some problematic material.

The Ballad of the Sad Café has the rather daunting literary imprimatur of not one, but two, legends. Carson McCullers' 1951 novella was later adapted for the Broadway stage by none other than Edward Albee. This would perhaps already seem to be a rather odd case of "strange bedfellows", so to speak, though there's no denying that both McCullers and Albee loved to dissect dysfunctional relationships, and there are certainly several of those in this piece. The focal character is a backwoods moonshiner named Amelia Evans (Vanessa Redgrave), who is a kind of frightening harridan to most of the rural townsfolk in her region. That said, she's also looked up to as a kind of local shaman of sorts, dispensing various "medicines" to people in need.

Much to her neighbors' surprise, her hardbitten exterior starts to soften a bit when an odd man named Lymon (Cork Hubbert) shows up and claims to be a cousin. A photo he has of Amelia as a young girl seems to seal the deal, and soon enough he's ensconced in Amelia's home, and perhaps even her bed, despite their ostensible genetic relationship and Lymon's deformity (the part was played by none other than Michael Dunn in the Broadway version, and without wanting to use an obviously disparaging term, even many online summaries of McCullers' original piece describe the character as a "hunchback").

Things enter quasi-ménage à trois territory when Amelia's estranged and until recently incarcerated husband Marvin Macy (Keith Carradine) shows up, but without posting any outright spoilers, it may not be the kind of situation one might initially expect given this general setup. The Ballad of the Sad Café is a rather odd, often askew, feeling enterprise as a result, and one can sometimes feel the actors along with Callow struggling to find their footing.

The film nonetheless has its own very distinctive ambience, one that may not be properly "Southern Gothic" in the truest sense of that term, but which is suffused with some of the same energy, albeit with a dash of perhaps deep black comedy lurking just beneath the murky, swampy surface. Callow tries to toe a line between some blatant theatricality and more cinematic moments, and the film might have worked better had he decided on one consistent approach.

The Ballad of the Sad Cafe Blu-ray Movie, Video Quality 

The Ballad of the Sad Café is presented on Blu-ray courtesy of the Cohen Film Collection, an imprint of Cohen Media Group, with an AVC encoded 1080p transfer in 1.78:1 (as with so many of the recent Cohen Film Collection releases on Blu-ray, this has been "sub branded" as part of a Classics of American Cinema collection). This is touted as a "new restoration" of the film, without much further information on the process, though a late 2021 Variety article mentions that this is part of a series of 4K restorations undertaken by the label. A lot of this presentation looks wonderfully organic and offers secure detail levels, but there are a number of curious things that struck me. First of all, whatever restoration gauntlet was undertaken has not eliminated pretty recurrent if admittedly typically minor damage, including small nicks, flecks and dirt. More importantly, the color timing seemed a bit too yellow or even orange-yellow to me at times, though that tendency kind of comes and goes throughout the presentation, and some scenes look considerably less "jaundiced" (for want of a better term). Some of the low light material generally and one nighttime scene in particular look noticeably rough and kind of oddly desaturated at times (see screenshots 16 through 19 for some examples). My score is 3.75.

The Ballad of the Sad Cafe Blu-ray Movie, Audio Quality 

The Ballad of the Sad Café features a DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Mono track that more than capably supports a nice if not particularly "busy" sound design. Some of the outdoor material in particular resonates with some nice ambient environmental effects, including the background buzz of insects in the bookending chain gang sequences, and other interstitial "swampy" material also has good, realistic effects. This would seem to be a film virtually crying out for some "down home" twangy backwoods music, and I'm not sure Richard Robbins' more formal score is "in tune" (sorry) with the story, but it sounds fine. Dialogue is rendered cleanly and clearly throughout. Optional English subtitles are available.

The Ballad of the Sad Cafe Blu-ray Movie, Special Features and Extras 

• Trailer (HD; 1:04)


• Commentary by film critic and author Peter Tonguette is accessible under the Audio Menu.

The Ballad of the Sad Cafe Blu-ray Movie, Overall Score and Recommendation 

The Ballad of the Sad Café doesn't quite work for any number of reasons, but it's a fascinating film a lot of the time, and it certainly is a unique entry in the annals of ostensible Merchant Ivory productions. Whatever its deficits, I'll be forever grateful to it for offering the wonderfully goofy and lovable Cork(y) Hubbert a chance to strut his stuff, and whatever obstacles Cork's career encountered, he at least go to do a film with Vanessa Redgrave and Rod Steiger, which must certainly count for something. Technical merits are generally solid with a few aforementioned exceptions, for anyone who may be considering making a purchase.