"Sommersby" Reviewed by Linda Lopez McAlister On "The Women's Show" WMNF-FM February 6, 1993 In classic Hollywood films two of the genres that feature women in central roles are the tear-jerkers or "weepies" in which a woman has to sacrifice her own happiness in order to be redeemed, and the "film noir" those dark postwar gangster films with a central female character who poses a mystery to be unraveled by the male from whose viewpoint the story is told. Perhaps it's because my Women and Film class has been looking at such films lately, but the thing that struck me most strongly about "Sommersby," the new film starring Richard Gere and Jodie Foster, is the way in which it reverses both these gender conventions, and some others as well. Jack Sommersby is a Tennessee plantation owner who went off to fight in the Civil War; two years after the war he has not yet returned. His wife, Laurel, and the others in the town believe that he's probably dead and she has told another man, Orin, that if Jack doesn't return after seven years she'll marry him. But as the film opens Jack Sommersby comes home--or does he? There's something odd about him; he looks like himself, he seems to know everybody, but he seems so different. Some folks welcome him home but others, including Laurel, are less than thrilled to see him. Even his own dog greets him with hostility. Is this really Jack Sommersby? Did his war experiences change him so much? Is he an imposter? That's the mystery that, in this reversal of the film noir convention, Laurel has to unravel. Whether he's Jack Sommersby or an imposter he's a decided improvement over the brutal, n'er-do-well, racist, rich boy who rode off to war. His old racist buddies, whose reaction to Reconstruction is to form the Ku Klux Klan, don't care for the changes in Jack. In fact they burn a cross in front of his house. His wife, however, is ecstatic about the changes as she discovers them, for she is a woman with passionate sexual desires--and, in another reversal of classic Hollywood conventions, she's allowed to own these desires and not be seen as a "fallen woman" even though we know that she strongly suspects that this man is not really her husband. However "new" Jack is a passionate and attentive lover to her and their marriage becomes for the first time a mutually rewarding love match. And under his leadership the townspeople, black and white, work together to pool their meager resources and start to rebuild the economic base of the town by planting a new crop, burley tobacco, and rebuild their sense of community and hope for the future. With the mysterious Sommersby constructed as the object of investigation and passion, Laurel is constructed as owning the interrogating gaze and the desiring gaze--both usually reserved for the male. The film's spectators are then positioned to see things from Laurel's--from a woman's--point of view as we try to figure out the truth about this man along with her. That's also a reversal of the Hollywood norm--and Foster's performance and character are both strong enough to carry this off. The rest of the plot twists and the resolution shouldn't be told, but it is a tear-jerker and people all over the theater were snuffling and pulling out kleenex. For a change the person doing the sacrificing is not the essentially good woman who has transgressed and must pay the price, but the man who does and in so doing becomes ennobled by his sacrifice. This film, a remake of the French film "The Return of Martin Guerre" was directed by British director Jon Amiel and written by Nicholas Meyer and Sarah Kernochan. It has survived being transplanted to the soil of the Blue Ridge Mountains in great style. It's a visually sumptous film but it does not prettify the rigors of post-Civil War life. Both Gere and Foster are quite wonderful in their roles and are backed up by a strong supporting cast that includes James Earl Jones in a bravura cameo performance as a judge. I really liked this film; I think you will too. For the WMNF Women's Show this is Linda Lopez McAlister on Women and Film.