MAGNET contributing writer Jud Cost is sharing some of the wealth of classic films he’s been lucky enough to see over the past 40 years. Trolling the backwaters of cinema, he has worked up a list of more than 500 titles—from the silent era through the ’90s—that you may have missed. A new selection, all currently available on DVD, appears every week.
Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974, 112 minutes)
Alice Hyatt doesn’t have much luck with men. She’s living in Socorro, N.M., with her husband Donald, who drives a big-rig, and their 11-year-old son Tommy, a little wise-acre. The kid is blasting rock ‘n’ roll on his boombox when Donald screams from the bedroom where he’s nursing a migraine. “Alice! For god’s sake! Do something about that shit!” She runs from the kitchen and switches off the music.
“How can we have a meaningful family relationship when he’s on the verge of killing you half the time?” says Alice (Ellen Burstyn) to Tommy (Alfred Lutter). “Make him finish his dinner first,” orders Donald (Billy Green Bush) as Alice brings dessert to the table. “He doesn’t want any more dinner,” she says, cutting Tommy a wedge of peach shortcake. “Yeah, but he wants that old sugar crap, don’t he?” barks Donald, shoveling three teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. He spits it out immediately. “You did that! Don’t lie to me, boy!” he says of the salt Tommy’s put in the sugar bowl.
After a head-on collision, Donald’s body protrudes halfway through the windshield of his Coca Cola delivery truck, as Alice gets the phone call nobody wants. She and Tommy leave town, a few weeks after the funeral. “Don’t look back, or you’ll turn into a pillar of shit,” warns Alice as they cross into Arizona. With no obvious job skills, she hopes to find work as a cocktail lounge singer and makes a pit-stop at a local watering hole in Phoenix. She nervously auditions, singing great American ballads (“Where Or When,” “I’ve Got A Crush On You”) behind an electric piano—and lands the gig.
That’s where she meets Ben (Harvey Keitel). He sidles up to her one night and flashes the cowpoke charm. “Hiya, Hyatt. Guess a lotta fellas pull that one on ya,” he says. “Yeah, but most of ’em are under 12,” she retorts. The affair ends one morning when Ben’s wife, Rita (Lane Bradbury), knocks on Alice’s motel room door. “Who’s this, the Avon lady?” quips Tommy. “So he’s married? I didn’t know that, I’m sorry,” says Alice in the kitchen. “I can believe that, all right,” says Rita.
Suddenly Ben is there, beating on the front window. “Rita, you bitch! You in there? Open this door!” Ben puts his fist through the glass, throws Rita to the floor and pulls a knife. “Why don’t you calm down, Ben,” urges Alice. “God damn it, Alice! Don’t tell me what to do!” he warns her. “I’ll bust your jaw!” After a few deep breaths, Ben tells Alice, “I’ll pick you up tonight when you get off work, all right?” Shakily, she nods her assent and he leaves. Within the hour, Alice and Tommy are packed and back on the highway, headed west.
