Anticipation.
Udo Kier finally gets the leading man role he’s always deserved.
Enjoyment.
With its warmth and humour, this is Todd Stephens most mature film to date.
In Retrospect.
A poised Kier masters his turn as an older gay man facing up to his past.
Udo Kier steps into the spotlight of an empty theatre in the opening moments of Swan Song, his all-white outfit and chunk rings glistening as he professes: “I’m back.” The sentiment is certainly true for the 77-year old cult actor who is placed centre stage in Todd Stephens’ bittersweet comedy-drama. This is a long-awaited leading role for Kier, whose appearances in the likes of My Own Private Idaho, Blood For Dracula and the 1977 Suspiria have brandished the well-versed actor as a screen icon.
Swan Song relies heavily on Kier’s transfixing presence. He plays Pat Pitsenbarger, a retired stylist of socialites who is wasting away in a dreary nursing home that is dulling his shine. He spends his days folding handkerchiefs with intermittent cigarette breaks to tame his wandering mind. This peace is interrupted when a lawyer arrives with the request to style a client one last time: a final funeral farewell hairdo. Initially spitting “bury her with bad hair,” the $25,000 paycheque has him coming around to the idea, and Pat sets off on a cross country trip to source beauty supplies. In this sentimental story of reflection and glossy odyssey, he confronts his anguish and lays the ghosts of his past to rest.
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Pat struts through the small town he once knew but no longer recognises. Many residents, however, remember him, from locals who still fondly recall when he styled their hair to hairdressers who work in the shadow of his revered career. In his hunt for styling products long discounted, Pat resorts to former student turned beauty competitor, Dee Dee Dale’s (Jennifer Coolidge) Ohio salon. A catfight between the pair breaks out which proves Coolidge and Kier a superbly balanced pair. The two pros spar in a battle of who can throw the sassiest insults, dramatics exploding like homemade fireworks.
Pat’s greatest hits tour also includes visiting his late husband David’s (Eric Eisenbrey) grave – who appears in wistful flashbacks that Pat walks through. Also, a trip to the soon-to-shut local gay bar reflects on being queer in a small town and how time greatly alters that lived experience. When Stephens’ script occasionally trips up on these entangled narrative threads, Kier’s immaculately polished performance tightens the reigns as his expression expertly flits between haunted melancholy and stoic bravado to capture Pat’s regret and potential forgiveness.
The most memorable sequence is a toss-up between Pat in drag energetically lip-syncing to Robyn’s melancholic anthem ‘Dancing on My Own’ while wearing a chandelier headpiece like a crown and Pat in a pastel mint green wide-leg pantsuit holding up traffic as he drives his mobility scooter in the middle of a road. Both moments project persona with no need for dialogue. Paying homage to a true hometown pioneer, Stephens’ portrait of a gentleman who knows how to be nothing but entirely himself is a compassionate and colourful character study.
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