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Welcome to Cason’s Casting Couch, a column devoted to an examination of who booked what role and why. Casting, an opaque process beholden to budgets, scheduling conflicts, and abuses of power, can impact a movie’s final cut as fundamentally as editing. To illustrate my point, let’s take a look at White Oleander (2002).

Cason's Casting Couch:

White Oleander

by Cason Sharpe

Movie still from White Oleander. Michelle Pfeiffer holds a flower in a glass of milk.

This winter has been grey, the kind of grey that makes it difficult to leave the couch. When I’m feeling listless, I think of White Oleander. The movie begins with similarly lethargic weather, if you swap the Canadian cold for the Calfornian heat. “The Santa Anas blew in hot from the desert that fall,” says Astrid, our narrator. “Only the oleanders thrived.”

Based on the novel by Janet Fitch, White Oleander tells the story of Astrid Magnussen, a preteen who lives in shadow of Ingrid, her single, egocentric mother, a provocative poet/artist who unironically says things like “I had the most amazing idea about how to use my Polaroids in the Newport show.” When Ingrid murders her boyfriend in a crime of passion, Astrid is thrust into an odyssey across the LA foster care system, a journey that forces her to reckon with her mother’s legacy of narcissism and neglect. It’s a movie about many things: artistic ethics, lonely children and selfish parents, learning how to function in a world without guardians, sacrifice, state failure, emotionally devastated blonde women. Critically well-received but understated enough to fall into cult classic territory, White Oleander remains one of the most elegant and moving high-camp melodramas of the last few decades. I watch it at least once a year.

"It’s a movie about many things: artistic ethics, lonely children and selfish parents, learning how to function in a world without guardians, sacrifice, state failure, emotionally devastated blonde women."

Movie adaptations are often the flashier, more beloved daughters of the books from whence they came. They may be younger, prettier, less long-winded, and easier to digest, but these movies would be nothing without the books that birthed them. The book is almost always better than the movie, if by better we mean the truest version of itself. White Oleander is an exception that proves the rule. In this case, the movie isn’t necessarily better than its source material, but on par with it. Published in 1999, White Oleander the book is a 500-page tome written in an elevated tone indebted to Russian literature, a tradition that Fitch studied extensively in college. Based on a short story for which Fitch could find no publisher, the novel catapulted to best-seller status thanks to an endorsement from Oprah Winfrey, which no doubt influenced the swiftness with which it was adapted for the screen. The movie maintains the novel’s grandeur through a delicate score by Thomas Newman, dialogue lifted directly from the book, and casting so flawless that each character appears on screen exactly as I imagined them on the page.

Movie still from White Oleander. A mother embraces her daughter, both in white.

Michelle Pfeiffer stars as Ingrid Magnussen, the movie’s megalomaniacal matriarch. Pfeiffer’s big screen career began with a starring role in Grease 2 (1982), which was, by all accounts, a commercial and critical flop. A weaker actor would’ve thrown in the towel, but not Pfeiffer. Instead, she took her signature blond locks and piercing blue eyes and built a career playing what I can only describe as a femme fatale underdog, a woman who harnesses her looks, charm, and intellect to foil the plans of those who plot against her. Some notable roles in this vein include the shrewd Sukie Ridgemont in The Witches of Eastwick (1987), the principled Madame de Tourvel in Dangerous Liasons (1988), and the slyly vengeful Catwoman in Batman Returns (1992). Pfeiffer continues to develop this archetype with Ingrid, a talented and murderous poet whose beauty is described as “the edge of a very sharp knife.” I can’t think of anyone better for the part.

"As Ingrid languishes in prison, her skin glowing more beautifully under maximum security than most people’s would after a day at the spa, Astrid is bounced from foster home to foster home."

As Ingrid languishes in prison, her skin glowing more beautifully under maximum security than most people’s would after a day at the spa, Astrid is bounced from foster home to foster home. In each new placement she seeks the kind of maternal love Ingrid could never provide, and each time she’s disappointed in some uniquely cruel way. Robin Wright plays Starr Thomas, Astrid’s first foster mother, a recovering alcoholic and born-again Christian who conceals her insecurity and addiction behind a brood of foster children and a mask of religious conviction. Wright began as a soap opera actress, so it would be easy for her to ham up the role, but she plays it with enough gravitas to prevent Starr’s slow descent into alcoholism from becoming the fluff of a Lifetime movie. A few foster homes later, Renée Zellweger appears as Claire Richards, an aging actress who spends her days pining for the affection of an absentee husband while mourning the loss of a failed career. Most well-known for her role as Bridget Jones, London’s beloved and bumbling wallflower, Zellweger has proved her capacity to play depressed. With nothing more than a quivering smile, she perfectly embodies a woman described by Astrid as someone who “laughed so easily when she was happy, but also when she was sad.” 

Without the shadow of her mother to live under, Astrid attempts to find independence by becoming the mirror image of each proxy mother she encounters. Under Starr’s supervision, she parts her long blonde hair down the middle and accepts Jesus Christ as her personal lord and saviour; with Claire, she styles her hair into a sensible bob and takes morning jogs along the beach; and finally, with Russian flea market impresario Rena Grushenka, she ties her hair back with an old bandana and dumpster dives for sellable trash. In her first leading Hollywood gig, Alison Lohman tackles this mutating role with impressive precision. Over the course of the movie we watch her transition from an innocent mama’s girl on the verge of adolescence to a severely savvy woman at the end of it, an arc that is particularly challenging because it consists of changes both minutely incremental and totally sudden. Lohman paces her performance so seamlessly that when Astrid appears in the movie’s climax, her hair dyed jet black to match her lipstick, her eyes now cold and calculating like her mother’s, the totality of the transformation is breathtaking enough to warrant the few seconds of silence it's given on screen.

"...the totality of the transformation is breathtaking enough to warrant the few seconds of silence it's given on screen."

Whatever happened to Alison Lohman? The success of White Oleander set her up for an A-list career alongside her mothers, Michelle Pfeiffer, Renée Zellweger, and Robin Wright. Over the course of the following decade, she appeared in a slew of critically acclaimed projects including Matchstick Men (2003) and Drag Me to Hell (2009) before suddenly opting for early retirement in order to become a mother. It’s a shame to lose such an extraordinary actor, but maybe Lohman’s talents are better served in other ways. According to her website, she now offers online acting classes. For $400 per session, you can pay Lohman to teach you the tricks of the trade without ever leaving the couch. If White Oleander is any indication, it might be money well spent.

Based on the novel by Janet Fitch, White Oleander tells the story of Astrid Magnussen, a preteen who lives in shadow of Ingrid, her single, egocentric mother, a provocative poet/artist who unironically says things like “I had the most amazing idea about how to use my Polaroids in the Newport show.” When Ingrid murders her boyfriend in a crime of passion, Astrid is thrust into an odyssey across the LA foster care system, a journey that forces her to reckon with her mother’s legacy of narcissism and neglect. It’s a movie about many things: artistic ethics, lonely children and selfish parents, learning how to function in a world without guardians, sacrifice, state failure, emotionally devastated blonde women. Critically well-received but understated enough to fall into cult classic territory, White Oleander remains one of the most elegant and moving high-camp melodramas of the last few decades. I watch it at least once a year.

"It’s a movie about many things: artistic ethics, lonely children and selfish parents, learning how to function in a world without guardians, sacrifice, state failure, emotionally devastated blonde women."

Movie adaptations are often the flashier, more beloved daughters of the books from whence they came. They may be younger, prettier, less long-winded, and easier to digest, but these movies would be nothing without the books that birthed them. The book is almost always better than the movie, if by better we mean the truest version of itself. White Oleander is an exception that proves the rule. In this case, the movie isn’t necessarily better than its source material, but on par with it. Published in 1999, White Oleander the book is a 500-page tome written in an elevated tone indebted to Russian literature, a tradition that Fitch studied extensively in college. Based on a short story for which Fitch could find no publisher, the novel catapulted to best-seller status thanks to an endorsement from Oprah Winfrey, which no doubt influenced the swiftness with which it was adapted for the screen. The movie maintains the novel’s grandeur through a delicate score by Thomas Newman, dialogue lifted directly from the book, and casting so flawless that each character appears on screen exactly as I imagined them on the page.

Movie still from White Oleander. A mother embraces her daughter, both in white.

Michelle Pfeiffer stars as Ingrid Magnussen, the movie’s megalomaniacal matriarch. Pfeiffer’s big screen career began with a starring role in Grease 2 (1982), which was, by all accounts, a commercial and critical flop. A weaker actor would’ve thrown in the towel, but not Pfeiffer. Instead, she took her signature blond locks and piercing blue eyes and built a career playing what I can only describe as a femme fatale underdog, a woman who harnesses her looks, charm, and intellect to foil the plans of those who plot against her. Some notable roles in this vein include the shrewd Sukie Ridgemont in The Witches of Eastwick (1987), the principled Madame de Tourvel in Dangerous Liasons (1988), and the slyly vengeful Catwoman in Batman Returns (1992). Pfeiffer continues to develop this archetype with Ingrid, a talented and murderous poet whose beauty is described as “the edge of a very sharp knife.” I can’t think of anyone better for the part.

"As Ingrid languishes in prison, her skin glowing more beautifully under maximum security than most people’s would after a day at the spa, Astrid is bounced from foster home to foster home."

As Ingrid languishes in prison, her skin glowing more beautifully under maximum security than most people’s would after a day at the spa, Astrid is bounced from foster home to foster home. In each new placement she seeks the kind of maternal love Ingrid could never provide, and each time she’s disappointed in some uniquely cruel way. Robin Wright plays Starr Thomas, Astrid’s first foster mother, a recovering alcoholic and born-again Christian who conceals her insecurity and addiction behind a brood of foster children and a mask of religious conviction. Wright began as a soap opera actress, so it would be easy for her to ham up the role, but she plays it with enough gravitas to prevent Starr’s slow descent into alcoholism from becoming the fluff of a Lifetime movie. A few foster homes later, Renée Zellweger appears as Claire Richards, an aging actress who spends her days pining for the affection of an absentee husband while mourning the loss of a failed career. Most well-known for her role as Bridget Jones, London’s beloved and bumbling wallflower, Zellweger has proved her capacity to play depressed. With nothing more than a quivering smile, she perfectly embodies a woman described by Astrid as someone who “laughed so easily when she was happy, but also when she was sad.” 

Without the shadow of her mother to live under, Astrid attempts to find independence by becoming the mirror image of each proxy mother she encounters. Under Starr’s supervision, she parts her long blonde hair down the middle and accepts Jesus Christ as her personal lord and saviour; with Claire, she styles her hair into a sensible bob and takes morning jogs along the beach; and finally, with Russian flea market impresario Rena Grushenka, she ties her hair back with an old bandana and dumpster dives for sellable trash. In her first leading Hollywood gig, Alison Lohman tackles this mutating role with impressive precision. Over the course of the movie we watch her transition from an innocent mama’s girl on the verge of adolescence to a severely savvy woman at the end of it, an arc that is particularly challenging because it consists of changes both minutely incremental and totally sudden. Lohman paces her performance so seamlessly that when Astrid appears in the movie’s climax, her hair dyed jet black to match her lipstick, her eyes now cold and calculating like her mother’s, the totality of the transformation is breathtaking enough to warrant the few seconds of silence it's given on screen.

"...the totality of the transformation is breathtaking enough to warrant the few seconds of silence it's given on screen."

Whatever happened to Alison Lohman? The success of White Oleander set her up for an A-list career alongside her mothers, Michelle Pfeiffer, Renée Zellweger, and Robin Wright. Over the course of the following decade, she appeared in a slew of critically acclaimed projects including Matchstick Men (2003) and Drag Me to Hell (2009) before suddenly opting for early retirement in order to become a mother. It’s a shame to lose such an extraordinary actor, but maybe Lohman’s talents are better served in other ways. According to her website, she now offers online acting classes. For $400 per session, you can pay Lohman to teach you the tricks of the trade without ever leaving the couch. If White Oleander is any indication, it might be money well spent.