Life has never been easy for people like Junie Moon and her friends, who decide to check out of the hospital in which they have been residents for a while, and take up the challenge of starting their own home – Junie is a victim of a vicious acid attack that has left most of her face disfigured, while Warren was left paralyzed after an accident, and Arthur suffers from an anxious disorder that prevents him from leading an ordinary life – but yet, despite these challenges, they defy the odds and manage to make the best out of their lives, which they spend reintroducing themselves to a society that they genuinely believe had forgotten about them. This is the general premise of Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon, in which Marjorie Kellogg (adapting her own novel) tells the story of this trio of unexpected friends who defy the odds and go in search of answers to life’s more challenging questions, only to discover that solving these problems comes first from looking inward, rather than seeking them elsewhere. The film adaptation was given to Otto Preminger to adapt, forming the part of his career where he was more overtly experimental in terms of both form and content – but as someone who helped sow the seeds of what would become the New Hollywood movement through his own subversive and challenging films earlier in his career, it’s not a surprise that he would take on something that defines the early stages of this new stylistic and narrative shift, where stories started to move away from the traditional heroes and start to focus instead on those who had never had the opportunity to have their stories told, at least not with any amount of sincerity or compassion. Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon is one of the more striking works produced during this period, and its reputation has slowly risen from the status of being a notable failure, instead having its more subversive, detailed elements start to be noticed by audiences that are now finally ready to embrace this unconventional but achingly beautiful depiction of life, focusing on all the laughter and loss that comes to all of us at some point, and finding the joy in even the most melancholy of moments.

While its storied history may mislead us to think otherwise, the film industry has been compelled to tell the stories of outsiders – we can argue that it didn’t always use to be positive (and even from a modern perspective, there is an abundance of work to be done relating to representation and diversity). Still, for the most part, Hollywood adores an underdog, since they are relatable to most viewers, and make for very compelling stories. Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon is certainly definitive of this concept, since it centres on three young people, each one with a different disability or condition, navigating the outside world, encountering obstacles and triumphs that teach them about the realities of life, and the challenges that ordinary people take for granted, since they can accomplish them with extraordinary ease, not having the physical or mental boundaries that our protagonists have to endure. The primary difference between this film and others that look at these issues is that this one doesn’t trivialize their struggle or view them as people who need our sympathy or pity – each one of these characters is fully-formed, complex and very entertaining, their fierce independence and fighting spirit making them individuals that we can easily root for, based solely on their personality and how they are constructed as genuinely meaningful, complex human beings, rather than being defined by their disability. It does very well in looking at how the disabled community has to navigate the world around them – it may be far more difficult (especially during the era in which this film is set, where society hadn’t made too many concessions for the disabled or those with any kind of condition, outside of the bare minimum in most cases), but it isn’t enough for them to give up, and Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon looks at three such people who are committed to proving that they can live fulfilling, interesting lives, and don’t need to reside on the margins like some may expect, which is a beautiful and delightfully refreshing take on the subject.

Considering he is someone who is known primarily for more complex stories, it is always a pleasant surprise to see Preminger doing something simpler. Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon is not a film that is mainly driven by plot developments, but rather a specific atmosphere. Some events and occurences set the story in motion and keep it moving, but what makes the most significant impression is the film’s forthright and earnest dedication to examining the lives of these characters as they endure many experiences that we take for granted – the simple act of falling in love takes on a deeper meaning when it is viewed through the perspective of these deeply fractured individuals that have had to struggle to even find a place at the proverbial table their whole lives, but are not presented with the opportunity to actually undergo a journey of self-discovery. This is certainly one of the director’s simpler films in theory, but it does feature his distinctive aptitude for invention, since he crafts a delicate and powerful film that somehow manages to traverse each of these characters’ lives in a way that is focused and detailed, without ever becoming heavy-handed. This comes through both in how he works with Kellogg’s beautiful screenplay, especially in the visual manifestation of these themes (the use of colour is extraordinarily important, and a whole discussion could be had on the thematic importance of the costume design and art direction that anchors the film), and how they all essentially frame these characters as more than one-dimensional archetypes, and instead goes in pursuit of much deeper, more compelling ideas. It introduces several plot threads (which is par for a course for a film that divides its two-hour running time between three protagonists more or less equally), and even when it seems like it could become unwieldy, it ultimately redirects itself to those core themes of existentialism and identity, which allows Preminger to explore these characters through the perfect balance of gentle humour and sincere pathos, both of which are defining to this narrative.

Based on the general premise and direction the story takes, it’s logical to view Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon as a character-based narrative, with Kellogg creating three very distinct protagonists, and a sprawling supporting cast of characters, which often propels most of the story. In the translation from the page to the screen, this is perhaps the element that is most significantly retained, almost to the point where it entirely defines the film’s identity as a whole. In terms of the central characters, the film features very strong work from Liza Minnelli (recently emerging from her breakthrough performance in The Sterile Cuckoo the year before, which established her as more than just the daughter of an iconic Hollywood couple, and proved that she could be a star all on her own, which would be the start of her rapid ascent to the very peak of the industry), and the debuts of Ken Howard and Robert Moore, the latter turning in such a strong performance, it is bewildering that he chose to mainly pursue directing theatre for most of his career. They are all equally strong, which is perhaps a credit to the fact that they are all distinct, never overlapping in their characterisation, which gives strength to the depiction of their wonderful friendship. The rest of the ensemble is populated by so many marvelous actors – Kay Thompson is as delightfully eccentric as ever in her few scenes, while another Golden Age of Hollywood icon, the formidable Anne Revere, is deeply empathetic as the dedicated social worker. Other actors like James Coco and Fred Williamson bring so much charm and salt-of-the-earth complexity to their characters, making the entire cast of Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon amongst the best of the era, perhaps to the point where it is slightly too good, since the film doesn’t have enough space to give every one of these characters the time and space to develop to their full capacity, which is less a criticism and more an observation on the brilliant complexity of this cast and the characters they are portraying.

Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon is a film that takes its time, and it earns the right to move at a slightly more measured pace, since the message at the heart of the story is far more important than the rapidity of plot developments. This is a clear example of what happens when a classic era filmmaker decides to try his hand at New Hollywood, and while Preminger was never considering particularly bound by his earlier work, he was an old master, and thus he was working with a new set of conventions, some of which are slightly unwieldy for someone who is telling a story about a generation divorced from his own. Yet, being an outsider looking in has always been the prime modus operandi for Preminger, whose entire career has been built on the premise that he possesses a chameleonic set of talents behind the camera, and that he can easily adapt to several complex ideas, while making them look so effortlessly easy in comparison. This may not be his best work, and it is often lacking in many areas – but mercifully, Preminger is gifted enough to understand the elements that go into making such a story feel convincing and authentic, which is amongst its most notable strengths. It obviously required actors who could handle the more challenging material and a few additional elements in terms of creative and technical decisions to help bring the story to life – and it ultimately becomes a communal effort, an effort between a group of artists dedicated to telling this fascinating and powerful story. Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon is a fun, engaging film with a lot of heart and an even bigger sense of humour (but one that doesn’t gloss over the more important subjects), and its wonderful worldview and deep compassion has allowed it to stand the test of time, becoming one of the most dedicated celebrations of identity and pure humanity ever captured on screen.