Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore 4K (1974) – an underrated work from a legendary filmmaker

Despite a wide filmography made across six decades, there are still people who dismiss Martin Scorsese as someone who solely makes “gangster films”. It’s a shame that such incorrect statements linger as they’re easy to disprove just by watching Scorsese’s back catalogue, and one film that stands out from that is his fourth feature, with a screenplay from Robert Getchell – Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.

The story opens with the titular character at eight-years-old (then played by Mia Bendixsen), having a wonderful time singing outside her home in a landscape painted blood-red. As she’s called inside for dinner, there’s clear determination in the young girl’s voice that she will prove she’s a good singer, but twenty-seven years later things haven’t turned out how Alice (Ellen Burstyn), envisioned, as she now lives in fear of her husband’s explosive temper. Her situation changes when a traffic accident leaves her widowed, and after her husband’s funeral leaves her broke, Alice and her preteen son Tommy (Alfred Lutter), sell their belongings and leave for her childhood home of Monterey, California. She hopes to revive her dream of being a singer, but circumstances force both Alice and her son to settle in Arizona, where Alice takes on a waitress job in a small diner.

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Ellen Burstyn rightfully won an Academy Award for magnificently bringing her character to life, and we’re introduced to Alice while she’s trapped in an unfulfilling relationship, appeasing a man that she believes hates her. No matter how much she waves off the situation and puts on a happy guise, a sadness lingers in her eyes that leaves us wishing for a change in her fortunes, and when the life she’s accepted falls apart, Alice is torn between recapturing what she had before her marriage, and starting a new life for her and her son. As she tries finding her footing in a patriarchal world things change beyond her expectations, and she learns how to live on her own terms in ways that allow her and her son to thrive. While Alice’s circumstances may initially seem like a struggle, particularly as she gets used to her new line of work, she finds a welcoming atmosphere that becomes a source of comfort, and when she feels overwhelmed by a situation, the shared laughter between waitresses offers a much needed moment of respite as Alice is reminded that she is not alone. The architect of this support is Flo (Diane Ladd), a waitress with a sharp tongue and a big heart, and it becomes clear that the warmth and humanity within film are its secret weapon.

Alice’s journey involves becoming comfortable enough with herself to express what she wants and learning to love herself again. Her unhappy marriage admittedly puts her off men (something further emphasized by an unsettling Harvey Keitel), but her time as a widower allows her to build herself back up again while ensuring her son grows up without an antagonistic father-figure. A ray of sunshine appears in the form of rugged rancher David (Kris Kristofferson), but more important than that is how Alice learns to stand up for herself instead of submitting to what others want from her. It all builds to an emotional climax that could feel corny in the wrong hands, but Scorsese ensures it feels earned as it sweeps you up in a storm of feelings.

Many Scorsese films leave a substantial legacy, but Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore was unique in how it birthed a nine-season sitcom simply called Alice, which itself had a two-season spin-off called Flo, based around its popular supporting character. It’s easy to see how the plot would lend itself to a half-hour format, and it’s likewise difficult to imagine any other Scorsese film creating a similar legacy – unless somebody sees potential in a Raging Bull sitcom. Within the filmography of such a highly regarded filmmaker, Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore is an underrated work that deserves to be more widely seen, so here’s hoping that this Criterion release shines a light on it as it’s a brilliant film that deserves to live amongst your physical media collection.

JAMES’S ARCHIVE – ALICE DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE