When Mariska Hargitay was three years old, her mother, the Hollywood star Jayne Mansfield, was killed in a car accident. Hargitay was seated beside her brothers in the back of the vehicle, and was lodged under a seat during the crash. She was almost left behind by rescuers, until her brother asked about her. In her moving documentary “My Mom Jayne,” Hargitay relays this past trauma with a mixture of sorrow and gratitude.
Best known for starring as Olivia Benson, the dogged detective in “Law & Order: SVU,” Hargitay begins the film — her feature directorial debut — by explaining that she set out to learn about Mansfield, the mother she hardly knew. But instead of the typical biographical approach of interviewing historians and writers, Hargitay sits down for intimate conversations with her three elder siblings, whose testimonies she pairs with archival material depicting Mansfield’s life in the public eye.
As Hargitay shows, the grainy footage tells one story while the family’s recollections tell another. Over her career, Mansfield curated an image of a ditsy coquette. She affected a Minnie Mouse speaking voice and received leering men with a genial giggle. This performance of vacuity belied Mansfield’s profound intellect and talents as a classically trained violinist, but it was an easier sell in Hollywood, and so she used the persona as a stepladder to climb to the top.
For much of her life, Hargitay judged her mother for these acts, and although she doesn’t draw a line from Mansfield’s work as an actress to her own, it’s tempting to wonder whether Hargitay’s powerhouse role in “SVU” was a disavowal of the blonde bimbo archetype. It’s this tension that makes “My Mom Jayne” as much an experiment in autobiography as in biography, closer in kind to Sarah Polley’s “Stories We Tell” than the polished or salacious celebrity profiles clogging up streaming platforms.
Like that predecessor, “My Mom Jayne” eventually builds to a brave personal disclosure where Hargitay shows how the mysteries encircling her mother’s life complicated her own identity as a daughter and sister. She makes the revelation with gentle courage, in a spirit of honesty and appreciation for the small ring of people who loved her family enough to avoid sharing the information.
Folded into the project are questions about what defines a person’s legacy. Is it the face one puts on for the world or the private one shared with kin? Since Hargitay has little memory of Mansfield, how does she reconcile her mother’s many selves? Hargitay explores these ideas in voice-over, and settles on a generous understanding of Mansfield that centers on her talent for music. These efforts offer a clean conclusion, but it is the exquisitely relatable messiness of this exceptional family tale that lingers.
My Mom Jayne
Not rated. Running time: 1 hour 45 minutes. Watch on Max.
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