If you grew up in the 1970s, you no doubt were introduced to your first TV lesbian. She could be quite psychotic. Or slightly murderous. Or maybe she was only kidding about her lesbianism and really wanted a man to rescue her from being a deviant. Television could, at times, display surprising sensitivity in telling heartfelt stories about gay and lesbian life, but we were to be inundated by awful images and disturbing caricatures for decades to come.
But in 1976, something magical happened. To this day, women my age could relate in great detail what we were doing and feeling when we first watched a gorgeous, poignant lesbian film on PBS called The War Widow. Shown on the acclaimed playwright series called “Visions,” this drama tells an unusually happy story of love and good old fashioned romance between two women (played by Pamela Bellwood and Frances Lee McCain) in WWI America. Though he didn’t know it at the time, Harvey Perr, who wrote this beacon of shining light, created two frontierswomen who set out to free TV from lesbian cliché hell. The film has managed to be kept alive by faintly flickering images from memory and a small, but devoted fan base, but it’s always deserved a far more prominent place in our community’s cinematic history.
Now this gem has risen again like a proud lesbian phoenix due to the efforts of the staff at UCLA Film and TV Archives, LGBTQ film historian Jenni Olson and KCET TV (who originally produced “Visions” for public TV). The drama, transferred to digital (and including the mesmerizing “Visions” opening logo), made its debut on the streaming service Vimeo, accompanied by a panel discussion hosted by Olson and featuring Perr and McCain. Best of all, they’ve left it online for free so you can watch it right now.
The War Widow takes hold from the start. Privileged and pampered Amy (Bellwood) lives with her annoying mother Sarah (Katharine Bard) and young daughter on a wealthy New York estate, while her husband Leonard (Tim Matheson in voiceover narration) is fighting the war in Europe. A gifted pianist, Amy repeatedly plays a melancholy Chopin piece that barely conceals her inner turmoil. Between her mother’s nonstop pettiness and her husband’s cheery letters (he writes about dead body counts and mocks the women’s suffrage movement), Amy needs and wants out.
Amy gets that chance when she encounters Jenny (McCain), a charming and witty fellow patron in a dining room in the city. Jenny’s immediately attracted to the beautiful, but distressed woman and offers her a shoulder to cry on, a good stiff drink and her dreamy brown eyes. Among the lavish flower arrangements, fragile china sets and tasty pastries, the women flirt like mad. Before Amy can say “Leonard who?”, she’s smiling, laughing and completely captivated by this new woman.
And Jenny certainly does provide a welcome distraction. She’s single, sophisticated and works as a photographer whose portraits raise the awareness of the downtrodden in society. Jenny offering to shoot some family portraits for Amy, however, doesn’t sit well with Sarah, Amy’s mother. Upon their first meeting, Sarah dislikes Jenny so much that she hilariously and not so subtly marks her home’s heterosexual territory: “I know how much Leonard, you know, Amy’s husband, will appreciate receiving them.” The two also work on a photography project at a women’s mental health facility where Amy sees firsthand the social injustices she never noticed before.
The War Widow excels when it steps back to give the women the time alone they deserve. In a scene that’s so absolutely raw and real, Amy and Jenny confess their love, talk about their fears and discreetly act on their desire by a raging fireplace. Later, after a dinner party with Jenny’s refreshingly well-adjusted lesbian friends, they talk about a future together, which panics Amy so much, she lashes out: “you don’t just want me to give up a little, you want me to give up everything!” It’s yet another remarkable scene in which we are reminded of Amy’s many fractured emotions and ambiguity about her situation. Does she give up her family for Jenny and face the consequences? Or does she stay in a horribly unfulfilling marriage for the sake of society? It’s left up to the viewer to decide if Amy makes the “right” choice, but in the end and without giving too much away, her surprisingly blunt and rather startling action becomes one of those defining TV moments you won’t soon forget.
Watching this new digital print, I felt as though I was catching up with an old friend who’s thrived. The many pleasurable moments I treasured back in 1976 seem as comforting and memorable as ever: Paul Bogart’s caring direction; the eye-catching period sets and costumes; a beautiful photo montage smack in the middle of the story set to composer Mark Snow’s wistful piano music; the satisfaction I felt when Amy wonderfully blurts out “I love Jenny” in her appalled mother’s face. And finally, those amazing performances. With barely any mention of lovemaking, Bellwood and McCain make such a believable, loving and sexy couple, it’s a mystery how our TVs didn’t all explode at once back then.
In the informative conversation that follows the movie, Harvey Perr and Frances Lee McCain marvel at the fan response they still receive after all these decades and recall the reality of bringing gay stories to TV. Listening to them speak so fondly about their experience is a joy for any fan and a tribute to the ageless dignity of The War Widow.
