“Although there's plenty of excitement along the way, neither movie [Sweet Dreams or Marie] does much with the home vs. career conflict. The domestic drama seems imposed from without--attributes like accents, clothes and props, that validate the characters sociologically but fail to illuminate them from the inside. Is this the inability of the male director… to penetrate a woman's soul? Or is it the failure of British directors to get beneath the skin of small-town America? Probably both, but there's also the limitations imposed by real-life stories. The leap of imagination so essential to drama, the telling gesture that is either contrary to fact or true but unpalatable, is discouraged when stories are the stuff of yesterday's headlines and real people and their lawyers are standing by. (Of course, the exception that proves these rules is Coal Miner's Daughter . . . )
“Nothing could be more breathtaking than what Jessica Lange does with, and as, Patsy Cline. Gaudy, gorgeous and raunchy, with a shiny face and a high giggle, she rips into the role like a prizefighter and never looks back, giving the most exuberant performance of her versatile career.
“When she first appears in front of the mike of a little roadside tavern . . . and sings "Your Cheatin' Heart," . . . she is sensational. (The songs are all from Patsy Cline recordings, but Lange really seems to be singing them.) And later when she and Harris, as Charlie Dick, . . . dance their way into love, she brings back the whole atmosphere of a time and place and what it felt like to get "snowed" on the dance floor.
“No less engaging in a different way are Lange's scenes with Ann Wedgeworth as her supportive, no-nonsense mother. With the help of Robert Getchell's witty, earthy screenplay, these two women create one of the most eccentrically charming mother-daughter relationships in recent movies.
“So why does Sweet Dreams take a nose dive? [Haskell blames it on the familiarity of the story: the wife becomes a success, and the husband becomes violent. Haskell also notes that in the movie, Charlie Dick is "mostly a nice, sweet guy with an adorable smile who occasionally lapses into violence," as compared to the reportedly more troubling real-life model.] Because in real life Patsy Cline became a success and Charlie Dick became a wife beater, and so depressingly familiar is this oft-told tale of wretchedness that Cline's death, instead of being a tragic blows, comes almost as a relief from the vicious domestic cycle of violence, recrimination and regret.
“It may be that the story just can't be done; that only country music can rescue country love from the banality of masochism. In Karel Reisz's version, . . . there's a big hole where Ed Harris's character is supposed to be. Instead of being the wildcat hellraiser, abuser and womanizer that Charlie Dick was reported to be, he's mostly a nice, sweet guy with an adorable smile who occasionally lapses into violence….”
Molly Haskell, Playgirl, January 1986