Tuesday, May 08, 2012
Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!
By Edward Copeland
Without a doubt, one song stands heads and shoulders above all others written by Stephen Sondheim for A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and "Comedy Tonight" holds that perch. Even people unaware of the movie or the stage show of Forum probably know that infectious number that opens and closes both versions. No more proof need be delivered to back this claim than the sheer number of performances, spoofs and use of the song as background music for clips and slideshows that I stumbled upon on the World Wide Web. Who knows how many more are out there? One used the song to back scenes from The West Wing, but the quality of the video was so poor, I wasn't going to use it until I stumbled upon a better version. Another person did three separate Bewitched montages, two of which employed identical moments only one used Zero Mostel's 1962 original cast recording version while the other took Nathan Lane's 1996 revival recording. I chose not to toss those in this collection because each montage only lasts 42 seconds, cutting off the song early. Never fear though, that still left me with plenty of options. Before I "open up the curtain," I thought I'd start with a clip of "Invocation and Instructions to the Audience" from The Frogs, a 1974 musical staged and "freely adapted" by Burt Shevelove (co-author of Forum) from the play by Aristophanes (written in 405 B.C.) and staged in the Yale University Swimming Pool with a cast of Ivy League students whose ranks included one Meryl Streep. Sondheim originally composed "Invocation" as the opening number for Forum when his first attempt ("Love Is in the Air") wasn't working during out-of-town tryouts. The show's legendary director George Abbott, according to Sondheim's Finishing the Hat, didn't find "Invocation" "hummable enough" — no doubt inspiring the producer's complaint in Merrily We Roll Along. Thankfully, that led to the blessing of "Comedy Tonight" and "Invocation" returned with the addition of the hysterical "Instructions to the Audience" when Sondheim and Shevelove collaborated on The Frogs. The clip below comes from the BBC Proms program given July 31, 2010, to celebrate Sondheim's 80th birthday. With the backing of The BBC Concert Orchestra conducted by David Charles Abell, Daniel Evans, a Tony nominee for best actor in the 2008 revival of Sunday in the Park with George, and Simon Russell Beale, a Tony nominee for best actor in the 2004 revival of Tom Stoppard's Jumpers, perform the number.
As I mentioned, people love to use "Comedy Tonight" as a backdrop to scenes from their favorite television shows or, in one instance, a series' cast actually performed the song themselves. I thought I'd start with TV and go chronologically from the oldest to the newest. First, this variety show's ensemble performed the number in the show's third episode ever on Oct. 18, 1976. Honestly, it's pure coincidence that I led into this with the number from The Frogs.
Anyone recall the last time they saw a rerun of this hit 1980s detective series with romantic banter between the leads? No, not Moonlighting. I refer to Remington Steele, the series that made Pierce Brosnan a star during its run from 1982-1987. What did happen to Stephanie Zimbalist?
The English certainly aren't immune to the charms of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. Five major productions of the musical have played London since 1963 (with its original Pseudolus, Frankie Howerd, reprising the role in a 1986 revival) and a company that toured throughout the United Kingdom. Some enterprising fan of the musical combined the song with the long-running British spy series MI-5 (originally titled Spooks) that ran 10 seasons beginning in 2002.
This West Wing fan not only sets scenes to a version of "Comedy Tonight" but tosses in some of "Love Is in the Air," the first opening song that Sondheim wrote for Forum as well.
Finally, since in some ways the farcical elements of Forum almost make it a cartoon, its final television salute should, most appropriately, pair it with an animated work, namely Avatar: The Last Airbender, which ran from 2005-2008.
The song brings out the fun in everyday folk as well as we see here where "Comedy Tonight" underscores a year-end slideshow presentation for players, coaches and fans of the Long Beach State track and field team.
What happens in Vegas doesn't stay in Vegas if you post it on YouTube as with this parody of "Comedy Tonight" performed by the master of ceremonies (officially named MC Vegas) for an annual Edwardian Ball.
Now, I haven't heard much of them lately but the concept of flash mobs shouldn't be an unfamiliar one to most reading this. Apparently, at University of Western Ontario, you might be able to get course credits for participating in them since they appear to do them so often. The campus' improv broke out once into Handel's "Messiah." They interrupted this lecture with — you guessed it — "Comedy Tonight" Impressively, they choreographed some moves as well as learning the words.
I'm not sure what's funnier: That this boy named Ben (I believe his last name is Lerner) would perform this spoof of "Comedy Tonight" at his bar mitzvah (interrupted by his younger sister Nina) or that the explanatory note by his father informs us that when dad posted it years ago, the video and audio had problems, so we're watching a corrected version that he has labeled Take 2. I didn't try to track down the promised one that Nina later sang at her bat mitzvah.
Also on YouTube sits, as you'd expect, the song playing against photos of various Republican presidential contenders. I almost included it, but that's really like shooting water in a barrel, isn't it? Why waste the space? They make the point so much more brilliantly when they open their mouths than when we just look at them, even if we do see Rick Santorum chowing down on a very phallic-looking food item. Instead, we'll skip to the movies. As with television, I'm going to do this chronologically, starting with the oldest and we're going way back to 1928 and one of the last gasps of silent German Expressionism, Paul Leni's The Man Who Laughs starring Conrad Veidt as the creepy villain Gwynplaine, 14 years before Veidt became best known as Major Strasser in Casablanca.
For pure ambition, you have to give it to the students at The College of New Jersey Musical Theatre staged at the Ewing, N.J., campus a full-fledged musical based on the original Star Wars trilogy spoofing songs from a wide variety of musicals. The show opens with "Trilogy Tonight."
The title for the single best-edited video that I found involving a single subject probably deserves to go to the true identity of puddleglum128 for mating Zero Mostel's version to scenes from Jonathan Demme's The Silence of the Lambs. I'd call it perfect if it didn't contain the strange audio splice in the middle, but the right moments of Anthony Hopkins, Jodie Foster and the rest get used.
Christopher Nolan's second take on Batman, The Dark Knight, earns two takes of "Comedy Tonight!" The first, staged by The Pauper Players of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill as part of the group's annual Broadway Melodies in 2009 where they parody different works. (The other two that year were Lost and Super Mario Bros.) The second video features photos from Nolan's film set to Nathan Lane singing the finale version of the song and also includes stills of Gerard Way.
For the last montage, which must have required a tremendous amount of time and effort by CRAIGSWORLD1427, he asked people about what movies throughout film history tickled their funny bones the most and then assembled various bits and pieces (including dialogue) with the song for this nearly 10-minute long package. It's worth it though. Chuck Workman, be damned.
Tweet
Labels: Animation, Books, Christopher Nolan, Demme, Hopkins, Jodie Foster, Lost, Music, Musicals, Sondheim, Star Wars, Stoppard, Streep, Television, Theater
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Talkin' 'Bout Their Alienation
Never mind the people
Tonight it's raining on the Angels of the City
Did anyone prophesize these people?
Only Travis
Come in Travis
...
One of these days I'm gonna get myself organized.
"Red Angel Dragnet" by The Clash
By J.D.
There is a certain sense of fear and loathing that is felt in large American cities — the result of the existence of a small group of rich, powerful families and an ever-increasing number of poor, uneducated people who know that they are never going to improve their situation. Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver (1976) captures the sense of disillusionment that people felt toward the Vietnam War, racial hatred and dishonest politicians such as Richard Nixon in the 1970s. Abel Ferrara's Bad Lieutenant (1992) captures the hopelessness of urban decay, the drug epidemic and the rise of crime in the 1990s. The protagonists in both films reflect these problems in simple stories of redemption. Taxi Driver and Bad Lieutenant are emblematic documents of their respective decades that mirror the imminent collapse of American urban society.
Scorsese introduces the viewer to the worldview of lonely cabbie, Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro), early on in Taxi Driver. Travis’ outlook is conveyed through diary style voiceovers. It is readily apparent that the city has had a warping effect on Travis: “All the animals come out at night. Whores, skunks, pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies. Sick. Venal.” As he is saying this, the camera focuses on the crowded streets of the red light district in New York City, filled with the people that he described in his voiceover. It is as if we are seeing the city from Travis’ point-of-view and this point is emphasized when he says, “Some day a real rain’ll come and wash all this scum off the streets.” As Travis says this line, a shot of a wet, slick road is shown to reinforce what he has just said. Scorsese uses the film techniques of voiceovers mixed with point-of-view shots to transport the viewer into Travis’ head. These techniques illustrate how Travis views the world around him. It is a view that is critical of urban life in the '70s. Travis is a lonely man who sees New York as a filthy, evil place that must be cleaned up.
In Bad Lieutenant, the protagonist is an unnamed lieutenant (Harvey Keitel) in the New York Police Department. He is an amalgamation of all that is bad in the city. He takes drugs, drinks, and is corrupt. The Lieutenant, like Travis, is the focal point of the film and both inhabit a world filled with fear, violence and corruption. Both protagonists are similar in that they are corrupted by the evil influences of the city. They are products of their environment, but differ in their reaction to it.
Scorsese presents New York as a frightening place inhabited by dangerous people. As Travis prepares himself for his assassination attempt on presidential hopeful Charles Palantine (Leonard Harris), he enters a variety
store to buy food. While he is in the store, it is robbed by a young black man and Travis acts immediately by shooting the man. This is an important step in Travis standing up to the filth that he loathes so much. He takes an active role, no longer remaining passive and apathetic. This scene also shows the madness and brutality of city life. After Travis leaves, the enraged store owner (Victor Argo) begins viciously beating the black man with a crow bar. Scorsese presents this action as a horrific event by increasing the pace of editing as the owner gets angrier. The cuts are timed with the owner’s repeated blows to the man’s body. This scene also conveys the social and racial tension that was felt during the 1970s. The owner is Italian, while the thief is black and poor. While filming this scene, life began to imitate art as Scorsese remembered:“It’s very important to realize that the store owner has probably been robbed five or six times and he’s very angry. He says, 'Now! Now’s my chance to get even.' It’s not very nice, but that’s the reality of the situation. It is utterly sickening, sure, but while we were shooting that scene, a man was killed just around the corner at 86th and Columbus. All that stuff is real. We didn’t know which cops were for us and which were for the real killing around the corner. Everything got mixed together and we really couldn’t tell, so we just shot whatever was happening around us.”
Scorsese takes this feeling of madness and danger so prevalent in the '70s and conveys it on the screen with brutal honesty. He pulls no punches in portraying the violence that the owner commits as brutal and ugly and also seems to suggest that this is commonplace in a city of this size.
Bad Lieutenant contains a similar scene where a Korean store owner accuses two young black men of robbing his store. A young beat cop is trying to resolve the problem when the Lieutenant intervenes. He proceeds to discharge his gun in the direction of the two black men and sends the police officer with the owner to the
police station. The Lieutenant makes the men give up the money they stole and then lets them go so that he has free run of the store, taking what he wants. Ferrara presents the scene with long takes, no music, and straight-forward camera angles, much in the same fashion as the variety store scene in Taxi Driver. This gives both scenes a documentary feel to them, as if they are really happening. Ferrara manages to convey the feeling of racial and social hatred that still exists in the 1990s. He also illustrates the corruption that exists in the Lieutenant’s character. He lets the two guilty black men go, and then proceeds to take whatever he wants from the deserted store. The Lieutenant is abusing his power, doing whatever he feels is right, just as Travis does in Taxi Driver. He sees a crime, so he stops it. This also is seen in other films such as The Searchers (1956) where John Wayne’s character has his own code of ethics. These three characters embody the American dream taken to a rather extreme level. They solve their problems through individualism and vigilantism.Alienation plays an important role in Taxi Driver. Travis is almost always alone. One of the first images screenwriter Paul Schrader came up with for the film was a lone taxi driver, “floating around in this metal coffin in the city, seemingly in the middle of people, but absolutely, totally alone.” Scorsese also was conscious of this feeling of alienation while shooting: “Whenever I shot Travis Bickle, when he was alone in the car, or whenever people were talking to him, and that person is in the frame, then the camera was over their shoulder. He was in everybody else’s light, but he was alone. Nobody was in his frame.”
This technique is evident in many scenes in the film. Travis is often shown driving by himself in his cab, lying on his bed, writing in his diary and so on. Even when he is talking to others he seems to be in another world inside his head. This is illustrated in the scenes with Travis and the other cabbies. He is slow to answer them and rarely pays attention to what they have to say. Travis is an outsider who does not fit into society. Even he seems to recognize this when he says, “Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars and cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There’s no escape. I’m God’s lonely man.” Travis has no way to express himself until the end of the film when he uses violence to prove that he exists.
The Lieutenant also is a lonely figure. There are many shots of him driving through the city by himself. The Lieutenant investigates the sight of a rape by himself and undergoes a personal revelation by himself. This suggests that both films may take place in the characters’ heads. Both protagonists are in almost every scene and we see everything through their eyes. Travis is alienated from society because of his extreme worldview, while the Lieutenant is an outsider by choice. Travis leads such an intense existence because he is mentally ill. He has all the signs of post-traumatic stress syndrome, a residual of the Vietnam War that results in a psychotic state where violence is the only solution to his problems. The Lieutenant leads an excessive lifestyle of drug and alcohol abuse to combat the corruption and violence he sees everyday in his job. He is so immersed in this world of depravity and evil that he becomes a reflection of it. There seems to be no way for the Lieutenant to escape this world until he becomes involved in the case of the raped nun.
Travis recognizes that New York is corrupt and evil, but has no way to change this fact. Travis looks to a veteran cabbie known as the Wizard (Peter Boyle) for guidance. Travis tries to verbalize how he feels, but all he can say is, “I got some bad ideas in my head.” Wizard replies, “A man takes a job. And that job, that becomes what he is. You do a thing and that’s what you are.” This gives Travis a clue to what he must do, what he must become. He realizes that only he can clean up the filth that surrounds the city. He is the “real rain” that will come and wash the scum off the streets. Travis must become this cleansing, avenging force.
In the beginning, the Lieutenant has no purpose, no direction in life. He goes from one case to another, riding one drug high to the next, until a junkie friend (Zoe Lund) offers him a clue as to how he can escape: “Vampires are lucky. They can feed on others. We gotta eat away at ourselves...We gotta eat away at ourselves until there’s nothing left, but appetite...No one will ever understand why. Why you did it. They’ll just forget about you tomorrow, but you gotta do it.” The junkie realizes that we are alone and that we “eat away at ourselves.” The Lieutenant is such a figure who uses drugs to eat away at himself and soon there will be nothing left if he continues along this course. He is a victim of a corrupt society, a hopeless figure trapped in a hopeless situation. Travis is a vampire who preys on others, who recognizes society for what it really is and threatens to destroy it. The junkie helps the Lieutenant focus on his goal: he must find the boys who raped the nun and bring them to justice.
Travis’ voiceovers demonstrate how extreme his viewpoint has become. As Travis sits in a porno theater his voiceover says, “The idea’d been growing in my brain for some time. True force. All the king’s men cannot put it back together again.” The last sentence is said with a shot of a presidential campaign ad for Palantine and then a shot of Travis practicing with a gun. It becomes clear that he intends to kill Palantine. In Travis’ mind, he equates corruption in New York with the nursery rhyme. Everything is falling to pieces and the king’s men — in other words, Palantine — cannot fix the situation. He will only make superficial change. Travis believes that only “true force” can clean up the city and solve its problems. In Travis’ mind, Palantine is not to be trusted and symbolizes the resentment that people felt toward superficial politicians such as Nixon in the '70s. Palantine is a problem that must be dealt with “true force” and so Travis plans to kill the presidential candidate.
Bad Lieutenant does not use voiceovers to illustrate the Lieutenant’s worldview; it simply shows what he does. The Lieutenant confronts the raped nun and explains his course of action: “Listen to me good. The other cops’ll just put these guys through the system. They’re juveniles. They’ll walk. Get it? But I’ll beat them. The system. And do justice. Real justice. For you.” The nun undermines this by telling the Lieutenant that she forgives the boys. The Lieutenant, like Travis, is ready to use “true force” or “real justice” to solve these problems. They are willing to take the law into their own hands. Travis becomes a vigilante to achieve his goal, while the Lieutenant abuses his power as a police officer to get what he wants. However, both are foiled in their initial attempts. Travis is unable to kill Palantine and the Lieutenant realizes that he cannot kill the two boys responsible for raping the nun.
Both protagonists try to redeem themselves in the end. Travis acts the role of the avenging angel, wiping out everyone involved with the young prostitute Iris (Jodie Foster). Travis even tries to kill himself. He has committed his “good act” by wiping out the bad influences on Iris and now he wants to deliver himself to a better place. Travis is cheated out of death as his gun has run out of bullets and the police do not shoot him either. He is trapped in a vicious circle, destined to repeat the process again. The Lieutenant also performs a redeeming act. He sends the two rapists away from New York City with $30,000 and a chance to start over. The Lieutenant lets them go because in his head, if the nun was able to forgive them for such a horrible act, then perhaps he can be forgiven for his sins. The Lieutenant sends them away from the corrupting influences of New York to make sure that they do not end up like him. Unlike Travis, the Lieutenant is rewarded for his good deed. While waiting for his bookie, the Lieutenant is shot dead in his car. His wish has been granted. He has redeemed himself and the “magic bullet” sends him away from his “earthly” existence to a better place. He is allowed to leave his pain and suffering on Earth, while Travis is condemned to repeat it.
The protagonists of these two films are products of their environment Taxi Driver and Bad Lieutenant are character studies of people who live in a large city and how this life affects them. Travis and the Lieutenant are so alienated from others that violence is the only way out. For Travis, violence is the only way left to express himself. As the film progresses, Travis is slowly disintegrating and losing control, symbolizing the chaos that enveloped big cities in the '70s. Violence is the only way out for the Lieutenant who is so immersed in corruption and amorality that there is no other solution. He symbolizes the hopelessness of the '90s. Corruption and decay have advanced so much that there may be no solution to the current problems of drugs and increasing racial and sexual violence. There is a real sense of disillusionment with urban society in these films. The protagonists are not romantic, beautiful people, they are dangerous individuals who embody the fears of all of us, justifying our own paranoia, as well as the problems that an urban society creates.
Tweet
Labels: 70s, 90s, De Niro, Jodie Foster, Keitel, Schrader, Scorsese, Wayne
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Monday, February 14, 2011
Quid Pro Quo
By Damian Arlyn
"Ready when you are, Sergeant Pembry."
Hannibal Lecter is just one of those characters. You know the type I'm talking about. They come around every once in a while and completely capture everyone's imagination. This particular character was created by American novelist Thomas Harris and introduced in his pot-boiler Red Dragon. Over the years he appeared in three other Harris novels and even showed up onscreen in Michael Mann's stylish thriller Manhunter (where he was portrayed by Brian Cox). However, it wasn't until 1991, when the film adaptation of The Silence of the Lambs premiered and the world was introduced to Hannibal Lecter in the form of Welsh actor Anthony Hopkins, that the character took on mythic status. It was 20 years ago today that a simple slurping noise would forever associate fava beans and a nice chianti with cannibalism.
It's hard to imagine, as it always is when an actor becomes so indelibly identified with a role, but Hopkins was well down on the list of those considered for the role of the psychotic psychiatrist. The list is like a who's who of Hollywood leading men (including Gene Hackman, Jack Nicholson, Robert De Niro, Robert Duvall, etc.), but all either passed on the part or were eventually dropped from consideration before director Jonathan Demme had the simple, but brilliant, idea of casting a great actor rather than a movie star. Hopkins, having appeared in such films as The Lion in Winter, The Elephant Man and A Bridge Too Far may not have not been completely unfamiliar face to movie audiences at the time but he certainly wasn't a well-known one. His portrayal of Lecter earned him an Academy Award for best actor and made him a household name. Unlike many less fortunate actors, Hopkins has transcended the role, even after playing it in two more films, through his sheer talent and versatility.
The first time we see Lecter in the movie it's from the perspective of the film's heroine Clarice Starling (played by Jodie Foster) as she walks down an underground hallway past several cells of clearly deranged and dangerous criminals. We've heard talk of how crazy and deadly Lecter is ("His pulse never got above 85, even when he ate her tongue."), we've heard the nickname associated with him ("Hannibal the Cannibal") and we expect something on the level of, or perhaps even surpassing, the craziness being displayed by these other inmates. What do we see instead when we finally glimpse this so-called monster? We find a calm, composed gentlemen standing in the middle of is cell with his arms at his side staring directly at us, as if he were waiting for us. "Good morning," he says quite nonthreateningly. This is one of the best introductions of a character in the history of film. It sends shivers down our spine precisely because it is surprising. It subverts our expectations and consequently ends up being even more unnerving.
"Closer, please..... CLO-ser."
Hopkins' decision to play Lecter as a charming, educated and polite individual, who in any other context would certainly seem eccentric but nonetheless still sane, only serves to make his psychosis all the more frightening and powerful. It serves as an interesting counterpoint to Ted Levine's "Buffalo Bill" who is clearly batshit crazy and undeniably disturbing but really only about half as interesting as a character. Hopkins understood that evil can often be very attractive and that even a villain, if done correctly, can be engaging, fascinating and compelling (an approach echoed years later by Heath Ledger when he portrayed the Joker in The Dark Knight). Thus, the audience ends up going through a series of complex emotions with regard to Lecter because they can be, in one sense, drawn to him(perhaps even "like" him) and yet, in another sense, be completely disgusted by and despise him. Sherlock Holmes once said of Professor Moriarty that he "admired his mind" (since he clearly was a genius) and yet he hated his nemesis and everything that he stood for. It is this dynamic which, I think, partly explains Lecter's appeal to audiences.
I realize I'm spending most of this article talking about Lecter as if he's the sole reason the film was so successful, but that is not at all the case. The rest of the film is superbly crafted in all areas of its production: the claustrophobic cinematography by Tak Fujimoto, the eerie music by Howard Shore, the intelligent screenplay by Ted Tally, the visceral editing by Craig McKay, the sure-handed direction by Jonathan Demme and the excellent performances given by the cast. All of these elements combine to make an enormously effective suspense-thriller/horror movie experience and, in spite of the enormous controversy surrounding its lurid subject matter, its perceived attitude toward women and homosexuals, multiple Oscars (including one for best picture) were awarded to the film as a result. So, why is it that 20 years later, the most lasting memory that the film leaves is that of a single character who is onscreen for less than a quarter of its running time. Well, as I said before (rather inarticulately), I think it's because Hannibal Lecter is just one of those characters. He's one of those creations where everything, his personality, the actor playing him and the timing of his appearance on the scene all fuse together to become something that somehow sneaks past our defenses and embeds itself in our combined consciousness. Is it his cannibalism? His brilliance? His madness? His bizarre courtesy? Is it all of them together? Who can say? All I know is that Thomas Harris created Lecter but Anthony Hopkins immortalized him and as is seen in the final haunting shot of the film, he got away and is still out there somewhere. Maybe he'll always be out there and as long as he is, we'll have to be on guard... and never, EVER become census takers.
"You fly back to school, now, little Starling. Fly, fly, fly..."
Tweet
Labels: 90s, Books, De Niro, Demme, Duvall, Fiction, Hackman, Hannibal Lecter, Hopkins, Jodie Foster, Michael Mann, Nicholson, Oscars
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Trilby, the forgotten melodrama
By EscutcheonBlot
George du Maurier (1834-1897) careened through numerous vocations, including opera singer and Latinist, before settling upon the life of an artist. After a long and successful career in London working as an illustrator and writer for the satirical weekly Punch, du Maurier, his eyesight beginning to fail, sat down and wrote a novel, Peter Ibbetson. He, naturally, illustrated it himself.
In 1894, he followed his successful debut with the serialized Trilby in Harper's Weekly. It was an immediate and overwhelming success. At the end of that year, more than 300,000 copies in the English-speaking world had been sold, and presumably, read. A town in Florida was named after the heroine (it's still there), as well as a man's hat, and various other items to be eaten or otherwise enjoyed (sausages, shoes, silver pins, etc..). After a few years, the mania faded, and died away quickly after du Maurier himself passed away at the age of 62. He left behind a daughter, Sylvia Llewellen Davies, whose children inspired J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan, and a son Gerald du Maurier (a prominent actor) whose daughter, Daphne du Maurier, became an important novelist in her own right. Trilby had its own descendants, spawning the potboiler The Phantom of the Opera in 1910, as well as numerous stage and screen adaptations of the book itself.
Trilby's fascination for its public lay in its being what I consider one of the first, and only truly cinematic novels. Du Maurier, as an illustrator first and novelist only a distant second, conceived of characters on a startlingly visual rather than textual basis. Trilby is one of those few integrated wholes in all of literature (William Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience being the most famous exemplar in this narrow field). The immortal evil of Svengali, whose many graphic portraits in the book, both as man and as spider(!) were so convincing as to cement his character firmly in the psyche of fin-de-siecle Western Civilization. Indeed, the first film adaptation of the novel was a 1922 effort entitled Svengali.
Du Maurier was one of the 19th century's great polymaths (a breed which has all but ceased to exist in this age of specialization), and his experiences in music, art, and literature combined helped him create a novel which rollicks through all the great art forms (excluding ballet — where rollicking can get you injured). While theater is not specifically dealt with in the novel, the story itself is so theatrically, visually created that to read the 1894 edition with du Maurier's 120 illustrations is an evening at the theater in and of itself.
The story centers around the love triangle of Trilby O'Ferrall, an English girl born and raised in Paris, who works as a model for the many artists of the left bank. In 1850s Paris, while the artists themselves could often move at the periphery of the best society, an artist's model was considered to be little better than a prostitute — and du Maurier more than hints that Trilby has shared her favours rather more than befits a 19th century lady. The second of this triangle is he whom many consider to be the actual protagonist of the novel, Little Billee, an extraordinarily gifted young English artist, studying his craft with a pair of his countrymen in the various ateliers of Paris. The third, sinister antagonist is pianist, teacher and mesmerist, Svengali.
An aspect of the novel that is truly difficult to swallow is the fervid anti-Semitism with which du Maurier paints the portait of Svengali. His Jewishness is an essential part of his evil for du Maurier, although the author himself straddles that peculiar line of bigotry that praises aspects of the hated people to the sky: Svengali is a great musician and a genius; no attempt is made by du Maurier to denigrate his abilities, just his character. Indeed, he is accepted into the English expatriate circle primarily because of his extraordinary playing; his filthy personality, and indeed, person (du Maurier is not the most subtle of racists) are tolerated rather than accepted by the upper-middle class, clean Englishmen.
Trilby is a physically large, but beautiful girl with an extraordinary speaking voice. Svengali, entranced by the voice, wishes to hear her sing. She, obligingly, caterwauls her way through an English folk song (Ben Bolt). The girl with the most magnificent voice in Europe can't carry a tune! She laughing admits to it, but Svengali stores away this information in his darkest of dark hearts. He falls in love with Trilby, just as Little Billee, his polar opposite in all but talent, also succumbs to the unknowing spell of the wholly inappropriate artist's model.
Little Billee, English, upper-middle-class, respectable, sweet, honest-if-a-bit-priggish, is set up as the counterweight to Svengali's mittel-European, Jewish, lower-class, dirty, scandalous, cruel and dishonest spectre. Like I said, subtle, it ain't.
After 20 fruitless proposals, Trilby, knowing she can never be accepted in Little Billee's world, against her better judgement agrees to become his wife. Immediately the mother, sister, and vicar uncle of Little Billee swoop down upon Paris, convincing the overwhelmed Trilby to vanish from Billee's life — for both his and her own good. Little Billee, in the best tradition of Victorian fiction, falls deathly ill with a "nervous fever." He recovers, of course, but is left unable to love; a painting machine — intent on becoming the greatest painter of his time.
Years pass, and we find our Little Billee in London, famous, successful, and unhappily unmarried. He hears of a great singer, currently making her rounds on the continent. "La Svengali" piques his interest — figuring that Svengali finally found a pupil he could impart his immense knowledge of music and of singing; all the while pitying the poor hapless victim of this bearded monster. Seizing the chance to visit his old friends, he goes to Paris to see this wonder of singing. They all go to a highly publicized concert where they are astonished to see an expressionless, gaunt Trilby, first singing simple songs, absolutely beautifully, but then with an ever increasingly difficult program, ends by singing the Chopin "Impromptu in A-flat" — a piano work — as a wordless vocalise (an almost incomprehensible feat of vocal virtuousity). Trilby bows mechanically to tumultuous applause.
Later Trilby and Svengali (whom she has married, according to the newspapers) see Little Billee walking on a Paris street. They cut him mercilessly. Crushed, Little Billee flees Paris for the comfort of London, but the Svengalis appear in London, to great fanfare. Having been injured in a fight with his first violinist, the cringing Gecko, Svengali must watch the concert from a box above the stage, rather than conduct as was his constant wont. Svengali sees Little Billee sit down in one of the first rows. A grin of hatred spreads his face, and he leans back in his chair.
The orchestra begins but Trilby doesn't sing. As if waking up from a deep sleep, she asks in French where she is and why she is on this stage. She doesn't remember anything about singing ... indeed when the crowd demands she sing, she rather reluctantly complies with the horribly atonal folksong she sang in the artists atelier years ago in Paris. The conductor appeals to Svengali, who stays seated, his face still in the rictus of a horrible grimace. He is dead! The hatred he felt for Little Billee was too much for his dark ,dark heart — and it failed him.
Trilby, unable to remember anything about her great singing career, goes into a rapid decline, although she reaffirms her love for Billee, and explains that she had never married Svengali. She is nursed in her final days by Little Billee's grieving mother, who finally sees the worth of this Bohemian girl. When she happens to see a photo of Svengali in his uniform, she goes into a trance and suddenly starts singing the Chopin Impromptu. Higher and higher she goes, ending on a pianissimo high E, then leaning back in her bed, with the words "Svengali, Svengali, Svengali" on her lips, dies. Trilby is followed in death shortly therafter by Little Billee, unable to withstand losing her twice, and unable to tolerate the fact that she died with the monster's name on her lips. His fever returns, and this time is too strong for the little painter.
Years later, Billee's sister and her husband, one of Billee's best friends, meet a dying Gecko in Paris (the Victorians were big on dying). He then explains what had happened — how Trilby miraculously became the greatest singer in Europe. Svengali had mesmerized her before every lesson, later, before every concert. With his conducting, he controlled every phrase, every note, playing the unconscious Trilby, rather like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern wishing to play Hamlet as a flute. When Svengali died, the connection was broken, and Trilby was Trilby again, but so broken by those few cruel years, that death must quickly follow.
This is not a great book, from the standpoint of literary quality, but it is a great story. The illustrations (which I have photographed out of my copy, please forgive the quality) make this a truly visual novel. (Henry James, who despised the illustrated novel, felt nevertheless compelled to praise du Maurier.) In short, one ideally suited for a screen adaptation. There have in fact been several, as well as a very popular stage adaptation at the beginning of the 20th century. These adaptations have always been limited by the fact that no mortal can sing the Chopin Impromptu. As du Maurier himself states, it is a very difficult piece which most pianists can't even play. The earlier films were apparently not particularly memorable, and the last effort, with Jodie Foster as a pop-singing Trilby, I would rather bite my own eyes out than watch.
With the advent of digital manipulation of recorded voices (like the blue alien in Bruce Willis' The Fifth Element, and rather less successfully, Farinelli), it is possible to create vocal performances impossible in real life, including the un-singable Impromptu. Anna Netrebko is quite beautiful, a very acceptable singer, and a good actress (one of the problems with Farinelli was that the actor was no singer, and looked, frankly, ridiculous in his gyrations). She could be joined by Elijah Wood as Little Billee. Wood is perfect for the soulful little prig-er-painter ... as long as he refrains from being so face-slappingly sweet (his Frodo ruined Lord of the Rings for me). And I can think of no one better for Svengali than Alan Rickman.
Aspects of the book, particularly the blatant anti-Semitism, would have to be excised, naturally, but that is done all the time with Dickens, so why not du Maurier? The whole film is there in the 1894 edition. If you wish to see all of the illustrations (they are nowhere to be found online), then go to abebooks.com or alibris.com and type in title, author, and the keyword 1894. There were more than a quarter of a million copies printed in that year ... they're not expensive ($3 or $4 at most). Just a thought.
Tweet
Labels: Books, Dickens, Fiction, Jodie Foster, Rickman, Willis
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Spike's 2nd 2006 home run
By Edward Copeland
Spike Lee has roared back in 2006 in a big way. I had all but written off the talented filmmaker, but then this year brought a one-two punch of a great documentary and a great action film. Inside Man actually preceded his great When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts, but I just caught up with it on DVD and I was impressed. It's probably the film of his I've liked best since his work in the early 1990s.
Looking back at old reviews of his films I wrote at the time, I noticed the recurring theme of fault usually lay with Spike Lee's screenwriting. In the case of Inside Man, he works from a script by first-time screenwriter Russell Gewirtz and it seems to have freed Lee up as a director and he moves this heist thriller along at a breakneck pace with much style.
Sure, he still feels required to use that damn moving sidewalk shot that he's been using in practically every film he's made for more than a decade, but it's so brief that you let it slide. Hell, Lee even manages to get a score from his favorite composer, Terence Blanchard, that enhances the film instead of serving as a suffocating distraction.
The story, which I'll only provide in the vaguest of terms in order to let the movie unfold for those who haven't seen it, concerns the takeover of a Manhattan bank by a team of thieves led by Clive Owen. Thanks to a vacationing detective, Detective Harry Frazier (Denzel Washington) and his partner Detective Bill Mitchell (Chiwetel Ejiofor) get the assignment, despite the fact that Frazier remains under suspicion for stealing some money from a case. The setup seems familiar from many other films, most notably Dog Day Afternoon and more fictional heist tales, but Lee and Gerwitz's script keeps springing surprises on the audience and makes the entire enterprise fresh. On top of the great performances by Washington and Owen, who has to act most of the time beneath a mask, Inside Man also includes a mysterious fixer played by Jodie Foster in her best role in ages and the bank's aging founder (Christopher Plummer) who secures her services to make certain that some things in the bank don't get out with the robbers. I can't recall a performance from Foster that seems less mechanical or embraces glamour the way she does here as Madeline White. Her screen time is limited, but she gives the movie a jolt every time she appears, whether she's opposite Washington, Owen or Plummer.
Still the real star of Inside Man is Spike Lee, who seems to have rediscovered his talent both in fiction and documentary. After many years of disappointments from him, it brings a smile to your face to know Lee still has it. It makes you wish Woody Allen could follow his cue and film someone else's script. Aside from the great movie itself, the DVD offers an often funny commentary by Lee (so much so that he often cracks himself up). He even offers advice (If you ever meet Christopher Plummer, do NOT bring up The Sound of Music) and gives lots of insight as to how shots were set up, asides about gangsta rap and even frequent updates about how the movie crew's baseball team performed. Inside Man provides a great ride — and I for one am grateful that Spike Lee seems to be back and I hope he gets to make his long-sought project with the 93-year-old Budd Schulberg (On the Waterfront) about Joe Louis.
Tweet
Labels: 00s, Clive Owen, Denzel, Jodie Foster, Plummer, Spike Lee, Woody
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Saturday, December 24, 2005
From the Vault: Bonnie Hunt
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED DEC. 10, 1995
Working with Robin Williams can go one of two ways: watching a one-man show or joining him at play. Thank goodness actress Bonnie Hunt's similar improvisational background (she started at Chicago's Second City) made her a ready partner for Williams, whether it be entertaining their young co-stars with routines of Jodie Foster's Nell character ordering food at a drive-through window or creating an alternate version of their new film Jumanji starring Mo and Tony, affectionately known as "the trailer park couple."
Hunt, who may be a more familiar face than name, has appeared in the Beethoven movies as well as last year's Only You. She also stars, produces and writes a CBS comedy called The Bonnie Hunt Show, which earned glowing reviews but is currently residing in hiatus land. The series is the second Hunt has attempted on CBS with David Letterman as executive producer.
"Dave's my pal. He's a dear friend of mine, like a brother to me and a wonderful business partner. The one thing we suffer from is the political agenda. It doesn't seem to be our nature."
Currently, Hunt's mind is on a different type of game — Jumanji, a sinister board game that is also the title of her new movie. When Hunt was growing up with her six siblings in Chicago, their games were Chutes and Ladders and Mousetrap, not a game that unleashes stampedes, monkeys and monsoons on a small, unsuspecting New England town.
"When I read the script, it reminded me a lot of The Wizard of Oz. I was so involved in it; my imagination was going crazy reading it. I thought it'd be nice to be involved in a film that's nice for the whole family to see."
Speaking of family, when Hunt briefly referred to her real-life husband, another reporter asked if he was in show business to which she replied, "Oh no — he's a good man." Co-starring with Hunt and Williams are two young performers — 13-year-old Kirsten Dunst (Interview With the Vampire, Little Women) and 10-year-old Bradley Pierce. Dunst was the main audience for the Nell impressions, and Pierce gave Hunt a bit of a realization about being an actress.
"To have children on the set, you realize that if a 10-year-old can do it, who are you kidding? It humbles you."
The playfulness she had with Williams was made evident when Williams interrupted the interview to play Tony to Hunt's Mo. Hunt said there's a different Jumanji that exists with the Tony and Mo characters. In order to keep Williams in character, director Joe Johnston agreed to give him one last take of each scene to go wild. That's where Tony and Mo came from.
"When you walk on a set with Robin, it's like you're at a barbecue in his back yard. He really is a joy."
What also pleased Hunt about Williams was his attitude, or lack thereof.
"Robin makes a lot of money. He's been around a long time, and people are so in awe of him when they see him walk down the street, but he just keeps it humble. You don't have to assume the star position in order to be treated like one."
The process of making Jumanji, as difficult as it could be involving special effects and the two weeks it took to film a storm scene, was relatively stress-free for Hunt.
"I found it probably one of the easiest jobs I've ever had because I love to improvise. To me, it's easier than doing the written word."
Tweet
Labels: Dunst, Interview, Jodie Foster, Letterman, Robin
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Saturday, December 17, 2005
From the Vault: Jodie Foster
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED MAY 20, 1994
After 28 years in the public eye, Jodie Foster has learned what it takes to maintain both a career and a private life. At 31, she has won two Oscars, shown great promise as a director and attained status as one of Hollywood's top actresses, amazingly with minimal speculation about her off-screen life.
Foster, who looks different with each role, didn't appear remotely like her Maverick character. In the movie she's currently filming, Nell, she plays a woman who has lived a remote life in the woods, a role that led Foster to dye her usually light hair dark, grow it out and lose about 15 pounds.
It's a far cry from Maverick's Annabelle, a con artist masquerading as an elegant Southern belle. When asked whether her ability to change her appearance has been key to maintaining her life away from Hollywood, Foster points to her longevity as a better reason for her successful adjustments.
"I've been a public figure for a really long time, for like 28 years. The Kennedy kids, I bet you they have a different life than someone who just got in the public eye about three years ago. When you've been in the public eye for 28 years, you figure out how to be a real person. I had to fight for that. ... When you're a waiter at 19 and you get a small TV movie at 22 and suddenly you're catapulted to fame at 25, you have a very different experience at being a public figure than someone who's been at it for 28 years."
Foster, who admits to having the itch to direct again following her 1991 debut, Little Man Tate, is producing Nell, a project she nurtured at her own production company. Foster, however, doesn't feel that her input is that much more direct on Nell than it would be on any other project. The actress-director-producer feels that there are more important considerations than stroking one's ego on every project, but that more input does occasionally ease things.
"It's all about serving that story. As an actor for hire, you can't always have things every way that you want. ... When you can do it yourself and when you control every choice, it actually makes the shooting so much easier. There's a difference between your movie and someone else's movie where you're just being hired on to fulfill an obligation. As an actress for hire, your only responsibility really is to your own character. You can't have responsibility for the movie because you're not there in the cutting room and you weren't there to develop it."
The actress-for-hire function is what Foster served on Maverick, having been hired for the film a mere two weeks before shooting began. Many have thought that the project seems out of place for the actress who made The Accused and The Silence of the Lambs.
"I'd been looking for a comedy for so many years and I couldn't find one and then one day, there (Maverick) was and it was witty and sophisticated and wry ... "
The shooting schedule on Nell has prevented Foster from seeing the completed version of Maverick, but that doesn't bother her since the actual experience of filming was such a positive one.
"I haven't seen it completed. ... I don't even care, because I just loved it. I had such a good time. It's the best experience I've ever had making a movie. It's the happiest I've ever been on a film."
Part of the joy of filming Maverick came from her co-stars, Mel Gibson and James Garner. Foster worked with Garner in the early '70s on a "very forgettable" Disney film titled One Little Indian, but it was her first experience with Gibson.
"(Gibson) is the nicest, most generous actor I've ever worked with. I'd almost say he's the most charming, enjoyable person maybe I've ever met. (He has) a talent that you can't even put your finger on. His wheels are turning and he comes up with weird things."
Since beginning work as a child model and commercial actress, Foster has had a long time to adjust to what her image can mean to the audience. This attitude extends to Foster's commitment only to become involved in causes she actively assists.
"If you're going to be a part of something, be a part of it. Don't just sign your name. It makes me feel uncomfortable, to be hollow."
As far as what causes do attract Foster's attention, the actress replies:
"I don't talk about my political causes in print. I just feel it's an obnoxious actor thing to do. You make peace with the fact that you represent something to other people. I think that's a good thing. Sometimes it's a burden, but as a youngster for example it gives you a consciousness about responsibility in terms of your work. You don't just go, 'Oh yeah, I'm gonna make a shoot 'em-up movie, because you know there are going to be repercussions."
Celebrity though does necessitate some adjustments.
"Obviously, I don't do everything myself. Now, the big step is I actually don't pick up my dry cleaning. I have it sent to my office. I take it to my office, then somebody picks it up, they dry clean it and then it comes back to my office and I put it in my car. That's a big concession for me because it's weird that I don't go to the dry cleaner."
However, Foster differs from many in the public eye by her lack of concern about her own image.
"There are certain things I don't do and one of those is sit around and think about my image. I hire people to think about my image. ... It's just a piece of noise I don't need to hear."
With her career going full steam and her private life relatively secure, even if she doesn't pick up her own dry cleaning, Foster has a simpler priority than acquiring more accolades and making more movies.
"My agenda is to survive. My No. 1 priority in life is to be a balanced, healthy person. Anything that gets in the way of that, it's gone."
Tweet
Labels: Disney, Interview, Jodie Foster, Mel Gibson, Oscars
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
