Take Another Look: Debra Winger in Betrayed, a ‘hate letter to the heartland’

The fifth in a series of retrospective pop culture reviews revisits the 1988 movie that predicted America’s slide into right-wing populism…


AT THE MIDPOINT of Costa-Gavras’s 1988 screen thriller Betrayed there’s a scene in which a young woman tucks her widowed boyfriend’s motherless children into bed in a Midwestern American farmhouse. It’s so ordinary that the horror she hears from the mouths of these youngsters eclipses almost everything in the screenplay by Joe Eszterhas.

We’ve already witnessed nightmarish scenes of racism and murder by this stage of the story, yet innocent kids blithely damning Jews, Blacks and Queers while putting their heads to the pillow are far more chilling than overt violence.

Debra Winger plays the woman settling the children: Katie Philips, the “combine girl” their widowed Vietnam veteran father Gary Simmons (a riveting portrayal Tom Berenger) invited home during harvest season.

HAPPY COUPLE Tom Berenger and Debra Winger.

Slight spoiler: Katie is actually FBI agent Catherine Weaver on her first undercover mission after the brutal killing of a Jewish shock jock in Chicago. Gary is in the Bureau’s sights as the brains behind a series of domestic terror threats, but it is Catherine’s creeping awareness of the depth of prejudice in the rural heartland that gives this story its emotional charge, not least because she develops feelings for the handsome and charismatic Gary.

As Katie’s attraction grows, so does Catherine’s fear about what she discovers in his community, and the danger she’s in. Welcome on his hunting and camping trips, Katie is transfixed; but Catherine is appalled at the white-supremacist subculture being stirred into paranoid resistance by nationalist preachers and self-interested politicians.

Sounds familiar, which makes Betrayed essential viewing four decades since its release.

Compost Heap

Despite a highly experienced team and an A-list cast put together by film titan Irwin Winkler, the production made a modest profit and didn’t really live up to its promise.

By the mid-1980s, Costa-Gavras was renowned for thrillers with a strong political edge. Eszterhas had entertainment chops built on a string of hits, including Jagged Edge (1985) which explored the attraction between a lawyer and the client she’s never quite sure is innocent.

For Winger, Betrayed was an opportunity to revisit the type of down-to-Earth American woman that had been so well-received in An Officer and a Gentleman; and Berenger’s career was at its peak after his Oscar-nominated role in Platoon in 1986.

The strong supporting cast included John Heard as FBI agent (and Catherine’s old flame) Mike Carnes; John Mahoney and Ted Levine as Shorty and Wes (Gary’s partners in crime), and Betsy Blair as Gary’s gentle yet deeply prejudiced mother. But critics saw only hints of brilliance in the nightmare.

“Winger is radiantly warm, smart and, against all odds, believable as a woman physically drawn to a man whose ideas are repugnant to her,” wrote Sheila Benson in the Los Angeles Times, “but she is sunk by the growing improbabilities of the story.”

Roger Ebert agreed: “More than anything else, Betrayed is finally just very deeply confused. Costa-Gavras must have considered it a political film, Eszterhas undoubtedly saw it as a thriller, and Winger and Berenger, to give them full credit, interpret it as the complicated human stories of their characters.”

Writing for the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, Peter Rainer cut to the chase: “As hate letters to the heartland go, Betrayed is right at the top of the compost heap.”

The Real Enemy

America took more than one look at its history of race relations on the big screen in 1988, with the release of Alan Parker’s Mississippi Burning four months after Betrayed. An exploration of the real-life murder of African-American civil rights activists in the 1960s, Parker’s film had its share of vocal critics concerned about historical accuracy, but it fared much better with audiences.

That might have been due to Mississippi Burning’s focus on sins of the past, whereas Betrayed demanded viewers look themselves in the eye during the latter years of the Reagan presidency and the peak of a recession, and identify the real enemy.

SHOOTING LESSONS Ted Levine and Maria Valdez.

Across the film’s second half, Gary, Katie and the kids visit a remote retreat. At the gate, a sign states: “The White Race is an Endangered Species.” The Klan is there in force, burning crosses. The children have “school lessons” – shooting practice aiming at racist caricatures – and political candidates spruik cheap promises to, “hand America back to real Americans” while collecting campaign donations.

Around the campfire, Shorty (John Mahoney) explains his motivations to Katie: the bank stole his farm, Vietnam killed his son, “I got nothing left to take,” he says.

This extended sequence normalises racism, the illegal arms trade and the radicalising of children. There’s even moments of humour in the horror show, when Katie has to pretend that Catherine isn’t a crack shot with an automatic weapon. But when the Neo Nazis arrive selling vintage weapons and paraphernalia, Gary draws the line at fraternising with the movement his father fought in World War Two.

Yet the point is clear: this is a lifestyle for big chunks of the United States. Furthermore, authorities like the FBI and the political class that underpins the Bureau seem impotent when compared to the self-determination of Gary and his charged-up mass movement.

This becomes particularly clear whenever Catherine asks the Bureau for support during her assignment. Mike Carnes (John Heard) is her colleague and and former lover, but he offers none of Gary’s virility and allure. Every one of Mike’s failings leave Catherine almost entirely to her own devices.

One of her lifelines is Gary’s daughter Rachel (Maria Valdez), and the connection between Catherine and this guileless daughter of the resistance fuels the emotional punch of the whole exercise, right to the unmissable final scene.

Yet for many viewers in 1988, the film’s betrayal of American values was not worth the ticket price. Audiences these days, accustomed to daily trashing of standards by right-wing nationalists, will have absolutely no confusion about this riveting movie.

Betrayed is streaming on Apple TV.

Taking a shine to silver

“You could be my silver spring
Blue green colours flashin’
I would be your only dream
Your shining autumn, ocean crashing
…”

Apart from these lyrics by singer-songwriter Stevie Nicks in her song Silver Spring, silver didn’t really factor in my life until the weekend I undertook a two-day ring-making workshop with my parter in February 2007.

Under the guidance and encouragement of Sondi at her bushland studio in the Blue Mountains, Richard and I learned to cut, forge and connect this precious metal into lasting keepsakes.

The sterling-silver ring I made for him remains the only piece of jewellery I’m ever likely to create, whereas Sondi saw an innate skill in Richard and invited him back to learn more technique. This began his transition from chef to artisan.

Years later, when we started trading at artisanal markets and events, I picked up some of the language of silver jewellery in order to assist buyers. I came to understand the investment value of sterling silver, its enduring attraction as a precious metal, and the ancient art of transforming it into pieces that last a lifetime.

Now, ahead of Silver Spring, an entire season of silver jewellery workshops at The Makers Shed (the open studio Richard and I run at Deepwater in northern inland NSW), I’m revisiting what I’ve learned about this beautiful material.

A sterling job

Unless they’re transformed into an alloy, precious metals tend to be fairly soft and malleable, unsuitable for everyday use. In the case of silver, when it’s refined into an alloy of 92.5 percent silver and 7.5 percent other metals (usually copper), it becomes sterling silver, one of the world’s most durable combinations, stamped with a 925 to denote its chemical makeup. The price for this strength is tarnishing, so one of the handiest extras to buy from your jeweller is a silver polishing cloth!

You get what you pay for

There are plenty of jewellery products on the market professing to be silver, particularly online. “Designed in Australia, made by hand in (insert country of your choice)” is a very common descriptor of silver jewellery that appears to be more affordable. As always: buyer beware. What you think you’re purchasing may not be what it claims, even if it’s stamped 925. In Australia, it’s illegal to use any precious metal stamp that does not match the chemical combination of the alloy. This is as good a reason as any to invest in local jewellery offered by a reputable artisan or jewellery business. You’ll need to pay more, but let’s look at why.

Silver stocks

Unless you’re trading in silver, you might be unaware that its a commodity listed on global stock markets. Not being an investor, I never really paid attention to the nightly market report, but across the decade I’ve co-run a silver jewellery business I’ve witnessed the dramatic rise of silver prices. Customer expectation for competitive retail prices for Richard’s work exists in the same economy as the ever-rising cost for his raw materials. It’s a testament to his love of what he does that his prices have not inflated at anywhere near the same rate as silver costs. That includes the sterling-silver he includes in the cost of his regular workshops.

Ethical source

Another reason for higher costs for silver jewellery created by Richard Moon is that he purchases raw sterling-silver materials from Palloys, a company that prides itself on the highest ethical and environmental standards in the production of a range of precious metal alloys. Their products are mined in Australia and refined in Sydney (where workplace governance ensures proper payment to workers in the supply chain), and a large component of their range is derived from carefully recycled silver. According to Chris Botha, operations manager at Palloys, the company is, “Australia’s only jewellery manufacturer that can trace its precious metal supply directly to its primary source.” Its reputation rests on a clientele that includes royal families, religious and sporting organisations, international banks and Australian artisan jewellers.

Pieces of the Moon

Those who’ve purchased a Richard Moon original, or been gifted one, will know that his maker’s mark very much represents his name. Every one of his pieces is stamped with a crescent moon symbol and, if it’s been created in sterling-silver, the 925 stamp will be somewhere very close by.

Silver Spring

So if you’ve taken a shine to silver, Richard is offering an opportunity under the banner Silver Spring for anyone wanting to learn a bit of silver-jewellery technique. The more workshops you book, the less you’ll pay. Book one place, or book several; bring a friend or come solo, you’re welcome to celebrate silver this spring!

Silver Spring with Richard Moon Wearable Silver & Silverware at The Makers Shed, Deepwater. Book now.

Capturing the Moon on a Spoon

IT IS A PRIVILEGE to witness someone transform their life. When he’s your spouse and you watch him take on his life’s work as a result of the change, it’s awe-inspiring.

When I first met Richard Moon in the very late 1990s, he was flipping burgers at a Katoomba fundraising event. The chef and co-manager of a popular local eatery at the time, we moved in different circles.

By the time our relationship started a few years later, Richard had become one of a community of hospitality workers who powered the renowned cuisine of the Blue Mountains during the boom of tourism that revived the region in the 1990s and 2000s.

More comfortable with his job title being ‘cook’, never ‘chef’, he was working at a Thai restaurant on Leura Mall. Within months, he and his collaborator had started a new business in the same building. 

BOLD BRAND The Red Door Café, Leura.

A hallmark of our 20-year marriage has been working together, a matter of doing what’s needed at the time. So I joined the crew who helped renovate, and put my design skills into creating the business’s branding, before The Red Door Café opened its fire-engine scarlet entranceway in 2006.

Working seven days a week while renovating our first home and garden in north Leura took a swift toll on Richard. It was therefore an easy decision for him to apply for a position as sous chef-trainer at the Blue Mountains International Hotel Management School in 2007. After years in commercial kitchens, the thought of stepping into a vocational training environment threw him a little, but Richard is a natural teacher (from a family of educators), and the new role gave him the opportunity to fall in love with food all over again through sharing his skills.

It was during this period that Richard and I began another business collaboration, when I got my first editing job for Blue Mountains Life, the region’s lifestyle magazine. We decided to visit food producers, from beef, oyster and truffle farmers to chocolatiers and orchardists, in order to impart the message of going to source wherever possible.

For a pair of farmer’s sons, this was a taste of our origins.

I’ll never forget the love and admiration shown to Richard from students on his final day at the hotel school. He’d never been an aloof teacher in an office somewhere, he’d worked in the trenches alongside these young people from across the world, and they were thankful for the camaraderie and the inspiration. Richard is still in touch with many of them.

In 2012, not long after moving to Queensland, Richard and I were dining at a winery at Mount Cotton when I asked what he really wanted to do if it wasn’t cooking. He’d struggled to get a chef’s position in his home state, and his courageous answer was that he was keen to try jewellery making as a career. 

SILVER STYLE Richard Moon at his workbench.

Not working in a high-street eatery had given him a few years of headspace to pick up a bit of silver-working technique at Sondi’s Studio in Wentworth Falls. I’d seen from his experimentation that he had a natural ability.

He set up a small jewellery workshop in our outer Brisbane home and has rarely looked back, until the process of putting this book together.

Doing so, we were amazed at the arc of our collaborative  creative life, the ingredients and method that went into it.

It delights me that Richard often uses chef’s tools for silver-working: his oyster shucker is still employed at his workbench, and he relies on a brûlée torch for soldering during his regular mobile jewellery workshops.

His jam-making spoon has quite a history. At a business contents sale in the early 2000s, when Bodds Café Katoomba was closing, I snapped up a well-loved wooden spoon which the vendor told me had been used by the former chef/owner. As we moved into our first home, we realised Richard had inherited that very spoon in 1996 – ends burnt, bowl well-worn, and stained orange from years of being used with spices – when he and his former Bodds colleagues took over the premises of an Indian restaurant. This beloved implement has been in our lives for three decades and is still used for jam making, the perfect symbol for this book.

Moon on a Spoon is part-memoir, part-cookbook, a means of explaining how Richard adapted to changes in cooking styles and shifts in the hospitality industry. It’s also an account of how to alter the trajectory of a life by taking new pathways and giving dreams cooking time.

An extract from Moon on a Spoon: Recipes from a creative life, out now from High Country Books.