The Faye Dunaway Documentary is Remarkably Candid

Faye: The Many lives of Faye Dunaway, now available for streaming on Max in the US, delivers a refreshingly candid portrait of a truly intriguing star. Directed by Laurent Bouzereau, a friend of Dunaway’s son Liam Dunaway O’Neill, the film naturally exudes compassion. Despite this, it bravely addresses the touchy reputation Dunaway has for being “difficult,” a characteristic so pronounced that even the formidable Bette Davis once told Johnny Carson she would never work with her again.

The documentary opens with Dunaway visibly on edge, urging the filmmakers to get started. Her initial tetchiness and obsession with perfectionism—fiddling with the couch, fretting over camera angles—directly feed into her notorious reputation. However, the tension breaks when she’s handed a print of her iconic 1977 post-Oscars photograph. Taken at the Beverly Hills Hotel, this snapshot marks a moment of triumph: Dunaway lounges poolside surrounded by newspapers celebrating her Oscar win, with the award itself resting on the breakfast table beside her. It’s clear that she delights in discussing her work—it’s her lifeblood.

Through this in-depth interview with Dunaway and contributions from friends, family, lovers, and colleagues, a nuanced picture emerges of a woman endowed with many gifts and faced with numerous challenges. Her film portfolio speaks volumes. Whether it’s her memorable roles in Bonnie and Clyde, Chinatown, or Network, Dunaway has consistently portrayed strong, complex women in groundbreaking films. Often, these characters bore a striking resemblance to her own multifaceted personality.

Comparable to her character Diana in Network, Dunaway’s fierce work ethic traces back to her capable mother, who raised her during a turbulent childhood. By the early 1960s, Dunaway was on Broadway, honing her craft with Elia Kazan’s company before making her way into the film industry. “I’ve always been about my work,” she says. “I need my work. It fulfills me, it makes me feel good about myself.” While her relationships with lovers and husbands, including Terry O’Neill and Marcello Mastroianni, are part of her story, it’s the films that truly define her.

Dunaway also inherited her father’s penchant for alcoholism, which took a hold of her in the 1980s. Today, she is sober. Additionally, she reveals her struggle with bipolar disorder, diagnosed and treated later in her life. She discuses how this condition has influenced her behavior, with episodes of anxiety over details or aggressive reactions triggered by incidents like Roman Polanski plucking a stray hair from her head on the set of Chinatown. Nonetheless, she does not use her diagnosis as a shield: “I don’t need to make an excuse about it. I’m still responsible for my actions.”

Despite her illustrious career, Dunaway has faced setbacks. For many, her portrayal of Joan Crawford in the controversial biopic Mommie Dearest remains a point of embarrassment. Roger Ebert had harshly criticized the film, calling it “a pointless record of neurotic child abuse… one of the most depressing films in a long time.” However, the movie has since gained a cult following, with fans attending midnight showings and waving coat hangers in tribute to one of its most bizarre scenes. In an old TV interview, Dunaway reflected on her career with grace and humor. While she acknowledges that she might reconsider taking on the role of Crawford, she adds, “but I really wouldn’t because I did like her so much.” It’s worth noting that Crawford herself once praised Dunaway, claiming she was the only new talent with the “talent and the class and the courage to make a real star.”

There’s a stark contrast between how Mommie Dearest presents allegations against Crawford and how this documentary treats Dunaway’s mental health issues. Faye approaches Dunaway’s struggles with bipolar disorder with both sympathy and seriousness, viewing it as “just a thing that is part of my makeup,” without glossing over its impact on her life and career.

As director James Gray points out, the reputation of women like Dunaway is often judged more harshly than that of their male counterparts. The image of a dedicated, driven artist battling inner demons is more readily accepted in men. Dunaway was undeniably committed to her craft. Whether it was encouraging Jack Nicholson to slap her in the infamous “sister-daughter” scene in Chinatown or deglamorizing herself to play an alcoholic in Barfly, she constantly sought emotional authenticity. “I’m a down-and-dirty, very dramatic actress,” she declares.

The shadows have always loomed over Dunaway’s successes. In that iconic poolside post-Oscar photograph, one can sense the lingering post-euphoric comedown. A newspaper at her feet even notes the death of her co-star Peter Finch, underscoring the bittersweet reality of Hollywood achievements. Through her candidness in this film, Dunaway invites us to peer beyond the dazzling veneer of stardom.

Source: The Guardian