REFLECTIONS IN A GOLDEN EYE, from the 1941 book by Carson McCullers, tanked badly when it came out in 1967, sloughed off by critics as indulgence from director John Huston and another pounded nail in the reputations of stars Marlon Brando and Elizabeth Taylor. Audiences either hooted or were just turned off. Lately, it’s been re-appraised and raised notches, such is the ebb & flow of popular perception.  Interesting enough to not unfairly dismiss, with its brave-for-the-time tackling of adult themes (repressed homosexuality, voyeurism, adultery, self-mutilation, murder: everything but bad table manners), while now, dozens of let-it-hangout decades down the spout, it has followings in both the Camp camp and the Hushed hut, venting anointed gushes of ‘brilliance’ for some of Marlon’s choices. Make up your own mind about the cold cream scene.

Army base, down South, early 1950’s (with 60’s hairstyles). A pensive Major (Brando) is taunted by his sexually ignored wife (Liz, in full bitch mode) while trying to stifle yearnings for an enlisted man (Robert Forster, 26, debut) who among other things, rides horseback through the woods, naked. Conventionally troubled fellow officer Brian Keith has a thing for Liz, while wife Julie Harris stews. Liz’s flamboyantly gay Filipino houseboy (Zorro David) flits back & forth.

Brando got on Taylor’s nerves by mumbling so much the others couldn’t make out what the hell he was saying and by foisting typical Marlon mind-f***s by purposely blowing take after take. Some appreciate his torment here (yes, he gets physically abused once again, his 5th on-screen visit to the woodshed, this time with a riding crop), others see just more actor’y indulgence. Of the various southern accents Brando employed—Sayonara, The Chase, The Appaloosa—this one was the slurriest.

                          Bareback

One end to the other a thoroughly unhappy movie, the mood worsened by the artsy, ill-advised choice Huston made with with the cinematography. Having it tinted amber just calls attention to the ploy, the hazy yellow a tiring effect that further droops down 108 minutes of nonstop anguish.

Keith received the best notices: he’s very good. Brando had five more years and four more failures before redemption via The Godfather. Liz dropped dud after dud from here on out. Look for Harvey Keitel in his first part (uncredited). Costing $4,500,000, it returned just $4,600,000, limping into spot #67 for ’67. Like it or not (‘enjoy’ doesn’t serve) the filmmakers at least deserve credit for having the nerve to tackle areas left out of the mainstream of the day.