Grey Gardens Prequel

Most fans of Grey Gardens know about the origins of the documentary. In the summer of 1972, Lee Ratziwell, Jacqueline’s sister and Big Edie’s niece, was making a movie with a few of her friends in East Hampton, and she introduced the filmmakers to Big and Little Edie. The Maysles brothers were part of that project, and they were impressed by the Beales. They cut the film in such a way as to make the Beales the primary subject and showed the results to Ratziwell. For whatever reason, Ratziwell shut the whole project down and confiscated the film. The Maysles returned a couple of years later after obtaining financial backing and made their own independent film, Grey Gardens (1975).

I assumed Ratziwell had her film destroyed, but apparently not. It resurfaced a couple of years ago, and Ratziwell, now in her eighties, agreed to release it. That Summer came out in May, and it’s already streaming online. I watched it last night. Grey Gardens is one of my favorite things, so I had to watch it as soon as I could. I had to.

The film is book-ended with contemporary footage of photographer Peter Beard, who was part of the original project. To be frank, I found this footage to be superfluous and dull. But three fourths of the film focuses on Big and Little Edie. If you love Grey Gardens, I recommend you watch this film.

It’s both wonderfully familiar and oddly different. Big Edie is already moving quite slowly due to arthritis, and she sings a little in her cracked and aged voice as if it’s still 1935. Little Edie is forever fussing with her costume for the day, and her trademark headscarves are on full display. They both chatter constantly and eat ice cream straight from the carton. But their house is full of people. Ratziwell is often there, and she is overseeing the continued restoration that started some months before. Workmen go back and forth, and at one point, city inspectors show up.

The condition of the house was shocking in the original documentary. It was in worse shape in 1972. There’s even more garbage and clutter, and most of the interior paint has faded and peeled, making the rooms dingy and sad. The second floor deck, the one that affords the ocean view, is quite dilapidated in 1972. It even looks unsafe, so rebuilding it must have been part of the renovations.

I’ve often wondered why some of the Beale’s wealthy relatives didn’t help out more. I knew about the clean up effort paid for by Jacqueline in the early ‘70s, but judging by the condition of the house in 1975, they only went far enough to prevent the place from being condemned by the city. Why not clear out all that trash and pay someone to come in and clean once a week? Why not pay someone to mow and cut back the weeds once a week in the warmer months? Take care of at least the basic stuff? But neither Big or Little Edie seemed to like having strangers in the place, and they were nitpicky about what could be carted off. Every ratty chair and broken plate was a treasure with a story attached to it, and they were in love with every tree, vine and weed. I was startled by one scene in which Ratziwell was conferring with a couple of workmen, and Little Edie rushed in and sharply questioned what they were talking about. It’s as if Little Edie suspected her cousin of a conspiracy. I know from personal experience that it’s sometimes hard to help loved ones who aren’t rational.

That Summer is another fascinating look at the Beales. I appreciate Lee Ratziwell for finally allowing us to see it.