An intimate look at the extraordinary rise, fall, and redemption of televangelist Tammy Faye Bakker.
Michael Showalter’s “The Eyes of Tammy Faye” is a dramatic biopic adaption of the 2000 documentary of the same name. I am not entirely sure as to why an adaptation was necessary because how can you possibly translate the larger-than-life, riotous persona that was Tammy Faye? And that’s generally the trouble with most biopic flicks. They’re the off-brand cereal. But, with that said, the comfort of nostalgia and infamy reels you into “The Eyes of Tammy Faye.”
Some will revel in reliving the scandals of the televangelists Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, mentally wagging their fingers and shaking their heads at the grotesque opulence they acquired fraudulently, for God. For a younger crowd, these details may come as a shock, as Tammy Faye for some was an icon of kitsch and camp, a gloriously painted saint of the times for the outliers of the world. If nobody loved you, you always had Tammy Faye.
We are first introduced to a young Tammy (Chandler Head), skulking around the local church, peeping in, pining to join. Tammy is the living blight to her mother Rachel’s (Cherry Jones) reputation and is coldly kept away from the church as to not remind the parishioners of Rachel’s history. Bold from the beginning, Tammy refuses to be left to the damned, and takes the Lord into her, and carves a path out for herself to spread the love of God, much to the dismay of her mother and countless others along the way.
Chastisement is a theme for Tammy. She can go nowhere without being told to be less. But then enters Jim Bakker (Andrew Garfield), a man who believes God wants you to be wealthy and is attracted to the naïve and sweet spirit of Tammy Faye. The hot and heavy duo get hitched and dream big. And then find themselves schmoozing with the likes of Jerry Falwell (Vincent D’Onofrio) and Pat Robertson (Gabriel Olds), heavy hitters and influencers on the televangelist circuit. It’s a boy’s club for them, but of course, Tammy makes it her business to keep a toe in the pool, and be a backbone for Jim. She’s what any highly ambitious husband with weak sensibilities could ever want: a woman with blind faith.
It’s hard to say what the aim of “The Eyes of Tammy Faye” truly is. It’s both doing too much and not enough. Jessica Chastain embodies Tammy Faye gallantly. She exudes love for Tammy Faye in every scene. And though she reaches for emotional depth, it doesn’t hit with the seriousness intended. The film becomes less emotionally invested in Tammy Faye and becomes a bullet point list of facts, scandals, revelations, and redemptions to be checked off. It’s irritating because you can’t look away. It’s gaudy and salacious, and deliciously affecting in that tabloid-esque give me more kind of way. But you know it could have been better.
The film is made for easy digestion. Formulaic to a fault. But nonetheless entertaining. The smarminess of Vincent D’Onofrio as Falwell is legendary and there’s a Dickensian quality to Cherry Jones as Tammy’s mother that’s beyond chilling. Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker were living caricatures and Showalter’s “The Eyes of Tammy Faye” lazily relies on the spectacle and hot takes of their lives to keep the audience fed but it leaves them none the wiser to the depths of Tammy Faye herself.
In Theaters Friday, September 17th
