I decided to conclude my women's issue media-themed weekend with Todd Haynes' illegal, quasi-PSA/melodrama/biography about Karen Carpenter, Superstar. I was intrigued by the description of the film on Elvis Mitchell's The Treatment. Having muddled through my feelings on some perplexing aspects of femininity beautified and celebrated by Almodovar, in his latest, Volver, I felt primed to tackle Superstar, come what may.
Karen Carpenter's voice was a household sound during my childhood, maintaining a top position in the short list of my mom's favorite music from her youth. There was a sadness to it that I didn't understand, but I did somehow get that it couldn't just have been "rainy days and mondays," sad as they are.
Haynes tells the story of Karen's battle with her popularity, her family, and her fatal encounter with anorexia. He does all this using Barbie dolls for actors. Yet, he manages to tug the heartstrings with life-size lighting, montage, and sound design.
The film's score is made of unlicensed Carpenter's tracks and some warbling 80s synth lines. The Carpenter's tracks are strategically used to redeem, and quite effectively so. The synth can get downright scary, as it folds in to the wheeling, macabre screens that make up Haynes' montage.
Ultimately, Karen is celebrated as as sort of sacrificial role model, who bore the brunt of an oppressive family and society. Her gravestone is beautiful, sad, and inspiring--like her legacy. The film rises above it's self-imposed constraints to be wildly unsettling and gripping.