Supporting Actress Smackdown 1999

So tomorrow morning, Stinkylulu is doing the 1999 supporting actress smackdown. So here are my picks.

Overall, it's a strange experience where you're looking at actresses who are currently in the prime of their careers. We're still watching them, and now reviewing performances that are the crystallization of that thing they do in most cases, is wierdly offputting, meaning I felt I couldn't be as objective as this usually feels with a little more distance. This is also the first year where I still have memories of watching the majority of these films when they were released. Overall, it's a strong year, but I was kind of surprised at which performances fell flat a bit for me. So here goes

Toni Collette in The Sixth Sense. I loved this performance. I do love Toni Collette, even though I feel some of her earlier performances were a little "actory". This is the first performance I was really blown away by, feeling that she dropped doing to much and did just enough. And in that, delivers the scene that I remember most in the movie. I think the nomination is probably based on that scene, but watching it again makes me realize it's the woman she's set up, the one who cares for her son deeply, that makes it as resonant as it is. It's a great scene, but her more than solid work before that makes it even more brilliant. It's my favorite performance in the film by far. Even more than Mischa Barton as Linda Blair.

Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted. She delivers what by now feels a standard Jolie performance--fascinating, energy sucking, combative, more than present. She takes any light in the room, and is fascinating on screen. The perf feels almost bigger than the movie, and it's one of the three in this year that verges on lead. She does great work, and pulls us into the character the way Ryder's character is. Strangely, though, I didn't quite believe the scene in the basement (perhaps because what came before it was so in your face it was challenging to believe this character would breakdown; perhaps because I have difficulty with any time I'm supposed to believe Ryder as assertive). I do think it's a great performance, and like Sevigny is the catalyst for most that happens, but it's second for me to Collette. And in the end, I was more emotionally interested in the scenes with Britanny Murphy--even to the point of feeling that hers is the most suprising performances of the film. And I love Ryder's mental istitution equivalent of the workout montage (I need to find the link from Stinkylulu, but he's written about it in most male/army films)

Catherine Keener in Being John Malkovich. I love this movie. I kept watching it thinking "I can't believe this got made". Still. Against all odds, it would seem, it completely works. Diaz gives one of her best performances freed of having to be the most chipper and beautiful girl in the room, and there are some brilliant supporting performances from Mary Kay Place and Orson Bean. He's just excellent. Keener does almost a fantasia of her own tough cookie, smart and sassy broad roles she's known for, seemingly speaking only in lines that most actors would have as subtext for something much more polite. Her scenes have a great improv feel to them, and I can't imagine anyone else in the role. Like Jolie, though, I think it's almost another lead. I also don't quite think there is much of a transformation in the character. Maybe it's shortcoming of the script, but it feels that she's having such a great time being arch that the other stuff falls a bit away. And without that, I don't quite believe the ending.

Samantha Morton in Sweet and Lowdown. I don't think she's helped at all by the script (though it must have been easy to learn her lines--haHA), but I was left a little confused by the character. I did leave wondering if she was slow, challenged, or just easily confused. Unfortunately, she's constructed as something for Penn's great characterization to bounce against. As such she does her job, and some of her luminous comes forward, but I was mostly confused about what she was thinking, or if she was thinking, and then equally confounded why the main character was so pulled to her. I saw her trying to bring the tenderness to the role and give us some hook into the relationship, but she ended up feeling like an incomplete thought from the director. I remember her moment with the tire, and caught some transendence there, as well as a the poignancy of the last scene, but the performance in the end was disappointing to me. And that's sad, because I really love her as an actress. And I love the director, and his choice of actresses. It's a wierd disappointment for me from both of them, mostly I think from him. It even makes me sad to write that. :(

Chloe Sevigny in Boys Don't Cry. How this movie was passed over for Best Picture in favor of Cider House Rules and The Green Mile is beyond me. It's brilliant. Even more considering she made it in thirty days. It's emotionally devastating, and driven by an astounding central performance. Hilary Swank more than deserved that Oscar, especially since I think she kind of pulls Sevigny along with her on some level.This is the third perf along with Jolie and Keener that's almost a second lead. Sevingy's native insousiance works for the bored teenager Lana, but she's unable to break through it later in the film. Though she's definitely present, she comes alive more in the intimacy of the relationship than when the sh** really starts to hit the fan. It's during the violence and the difficulties where she feels a little lost to me, losing the screen to what's happening around her. I just didn't believe that anything that awful was happening, and her breaks felt more like tantrums. Incomplete for me, but in no way diminishing Swank's accomplishment or the brilliance of the film.

p123 meme

Stinkylulu just tagged me for the p123 meme. So here are the rules and here's my entry.

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Locate the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences on your blog and in so doing...
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged me.

That might be more damaging in the long run.
"Who is it?" he came right out at lunch once and asked her. "Who is it?"

From "Knights and Dragons", a novella by Elizabeth Spencer in the collection that includes "The Light in the Piazza". I'm still reading the first one, and I don't know if I will read "Knights and Dragons". I'm even more amazed at the musical now, by the way.

I'm tagging some live journal people over at LiveJournal, but who knows?

Gay Film

Last night, at the Tuesday dinner I go to with a bunch of men to watch trashy television, I brought up the subject of gay film since I've been kind of wondering about Stinklylulu's questions he posed:

One: what's the most tedious trend in gay film? Two: what work does independent queer cinema have left to do? In short, what do you hate and what do you most yet hope to see?

There were some really interesting and enlightening answers. I was challenged for sure, and as always, that makes you hone your ideas into a more cogent cohesive form. For me, it was the above question that we ended up talking about. Here is a random report as I remember it, and then my thoughts as well.

Two men said that there was not a good gay film between Longtime Companion and Brokeback. We brought up that the current generation (those kids!) didn't really have AIDS as a motivator or looking at their sexuality as a disease to get over (to which Sean replied "Well, good!" which is very true). Someone said they didn't need to see specific gay content, and still others talked about gay actors. Someone brought up that actors should be able to play anything they'd like, and I said Tyler Perry wouldn't cast an all white cast in his film to pass them off as black, so why is it such a thing that straight actors play gay characters and gay actors aren't allowed? One person volunteered that he doesn't buy gay actors as straight once he knows they're gay. I asked why do we allow straight actors to play gay then? Wish fulfillment was his answer, which is probably true--we want to pretend straight actors are gay, but not the other way around. I have a feeling it may be something about emasculating them by coming out as well, though who knows. I think that's another interesting topic, but a side note. And there was a strong voice telling us he liked it when we were more secret, off the map, liminal--finding ourselves as thieves and drunks or on the edges of other stories.

I was asking why we need gay film at all, and I seem to keep coming to the fact that we need to see ourselves, and not just in the "swish'n'fetchit" roles that we seem to suddenly be relegated to. You know, we're the "fairy" godfathers who make sure the straight couples meet, fall in love, and have a tastefully appointed place to go to. That's when we get out of our narcissism or boy chasing. Though never having sex. And, of course, most of the images are completely body conscious. I think it's interesting that two of the most out of character gay men created recently are on "The Sarah Silverman" show, created by a straight woman. And Brokeback was written by a straight woman, adapted by a straight woman and straight man, and directed by a straight man starring two straight actors. My big question is, and still unanswered, why are we seeming to not be telling more nuanced stories? I don't think it's impossible, but I find myself going to European cinema for more interesting portrayals of gays (Adventures of Felix and Bearcub being two recent examples, though I've loved I am My Own Wife, My Beautiful Laundrette, Beautiful Thing). I know this gets into (as was pointed out last night) that I'm thinking there is a "correct" way for us to represent ourselves. I don't. But I do think we have this glut of images that are making us somehow see ourselves as homogenous. And it's fascinating to me that I hear people saying we don't really need gay film, representation, anything since we're everywhere now and people accept us. I don't think that's true. There is still much to be done. But the danger in this is a generation losing its voice and believing what its being marketed--I think there is a danger that by thinking we don't need to tell specifically gay stories that we will lose our voice altogether. There is a new stereotype being created, and we're buying into it. I know this is a problem with representation with any "minority." I also think there is so much homophobia out there, even with ourselves, that we find it challenging still to even see ourselves and our relationships in a serious light.

I also think we need to tell stories that deal with us as complex adults outside of a coming out or disease narrative. If there is anything that irks me about gay film it's that you have to be under thirty and have little body fat to be interesting--unless it's a comedy. I suppose this is just a microcosm of Hollywood, but still--I'd love to see it challenged. One of the most interesting things that was said last night was when I mentioned Robert Patrick's exhortation to younger gay writers to read what's out there already so they don't tell the same story. Someone said "Did he tell you also that he writes porn reviews for {I can't remember the name}? That's what he does to make money." And it's telling. I don't know his life, but I do know he wrote Kennedy's Children, and many specifically gay plays, and obviously doesn't make his living at it now. But for someone who has had a play on Broadway, and writes specifically gay material (like his Decades plays, which I really love), there is not a larger market. Perhaps it is all a question of the market. People have skin in their movies because it sells. Jeff Stryker sells out shows here because at the end he takes off his clothes. That's the world. If I have one wish for queer independent cinema, it's to tell real stories. I know money and sex are great motivators, but I'm hoping we can see more of things when it's not. I feel sometimes that there is a lot of gay content, and it's all the same.

Then again, so is most of Hollywood. So I guess my wish for queer cinema is my wish for all cinema: tell us a good story. Don't bore me.

And you know--this probably isn't even fair and slightly reductive, considering things like "Brothers and Sisters" and "Line of Beauty", but that's English. Anyhow, it's interesting to think about now that content in all media is increasing, and we are finding our place in it. And I don't even have logo, so I'm bad. Or just lucky? Hee hee. More further along.....

Sweenany

It’s taken me a while to write about this. I’m unsure why; I perhaps thought the production would make more sense to me after a time away. Or maybe I thought I would like it more. But no, I just wasn’t as bowled over as I expected to be by the revival of Sweeney Todd directed by John Doyle currently at the Ahmanson. The reasons may have to do with the space, the nature of roadshows, or perhaps just the choices made. Whatever the reason, I was disappointed overall.
The production opens on a Cornell box of a stage—wooden slats lit from beneath and raked for a floor, with a back wall about twice as high. In the center of the back of the stage is a column of detritus—discarded, rusting odds and ends. At the base of this is a piano. Around the stage are chairs with performers. There is a coffin on sawhorses in the middle. Upstage left is a door. The door is frosted, possibly clinical looking. Some of the actors/musicians wear lab coats. Tobias, or the actor playing him, is in a straight jacket. As he starts to sing “The Ballad of Sweeney Todd”, attendants come and take off his jacket and hand him a violin.
Immediately, my mind goes to Marat/Sade. Great, I thought, we’ll have this whole extra-textual thing going on, where the inmates of the asylum play all the instruments while they enact out Sweeney Todd for some therapeutic purpose. Perhaps, even more interestingly, it’s all happening in Toby’s mind. Unfortunately for me, none of that seemed to be true. It revealed itself to be a clever and interesting visual trick, but no underlying sense to the world. This is, for some plays, not a really big deal. Godot could be set in space. Hamlet has been staged everywhere from a palace to a truck pull. Sweeney Todd, though, has a fairly specific vernacular, place, and trajectory that set it where it is. And if you move that setting, then I would hope it would be for some reason to illuminate what you have. If not, it’s theatrical, but missing bite. Now I can completely blame this on my being too literal, or wanting something that this revival was not interested in giving, but I do feel if you make a choice that’s this dramatic, why not go all the way? If it is a nightmare that Tobias is having, why is everyone so predictable? And if it is in an asylum, who are these people? Why are they telling this story? As it is, we have a story that references place and time constantly, but set in another. I really have no problem resetting this story, but when you make a strong visual choice it’s frustrating when there seems to be no follow through. Or just haphazard. There were suggestions of asylum, suggestions of nightmare, but everything was left amorphous. In a piece as ferocious as Sweeney Todd, I feel like things should not be a suggestion but an exclamation.
Like I said, perhaps it’s the space. The Ahmanson is large, and I’m still kicking myself I didn’t see this in a more intimate space in London when I had the chance. It could be that some of these choices were made, but I couldn’t see them in the enormity of the space. As it was, the production only raised questions for me. Why were these people in lab coats? Why are they playing instruments? If they are in an asylum, why is Sweeney allowed to have a razor blade? But even with those questions answered, I think the show took an interesting visual idea and went too far, but not far enough. I like the idea of a small, chamber, theatrical Sweeney. But for me, putting instruments in the hands of the actors makes them more than just the characters they play. So I want to know why they are playing the instruments. I want to know how the instruments are relating to each other, and why. And although there are a couple of interesting examples of this—Johanna and Antony both playing the cello; Mrs. Lovett with a tuba—for the most part the choices are more expedient.
It may have been, too, that casting actors who play instruments limits casting choices. The actor playing the judge was so wooden I had to make up his role in my head. He was almost actively bad. I liked Judy Kaye, but was not blown away, and I thought the guy who played Sweeney was fine. No one really captured my imagination. I guess in the end I just felt like there were interesting choices that just made me ask more questions than illuminate what was happening on stage. I spent much of the show thinking “wow, this would have been a great moment to illuminate this”, but seeing nothing there. Like I said, I could have just been too literal. I like my questions answered, and seeing things that surprise and shock me. I know it was bringing a new eye to something we’ve seen before, but it just didn’t quite hold together for me.
There was one wonderful moment, when the music stopped and the sound blood being poured from the bucket signifying one of the last killings was allowed to reverberate through the house. This was probably the most exciting, chilling moment of the show. And it was provided by a bucket.



Conversely, I loved the revival of Company starring Raul Esparza that I saw recently on PBS. Closeups, I admit, may have helped. Here, though, I loved the space, I loved the instruments, and the performances were spot on for me (except the one guy who was the judge in the LA Sweeney, who seems wooden close-up as well).
Company is an odd piece. I always feel like there are 5 or so people I remember—Bobby, Joanne, Amy, April, Marta, and the rest just kind of fade away into a haze. Who are those people again? What are their names? Why can’t I remember any of the other guys?
This production added two elements to solve that problem. The instruments meant that I could track people more, and their relationships continued after there one big scene and the incidentals. He plays a trumpet and she plays a flute? Ah, that makes perfect sense—he’s muting himself, and she’s wants to be heard above everything. She can be kind of shrill. And they’re competitive—you’re not sure if they belong together.
Also, keeping everyone on stage means that we see them in constant relationship to each other. And, best of all, they are constantly around and in Bobby’s life. This is something that I felt was missing from the other productions I’ve seen of this. All the couples went on and off stage. Bobby was on all the time. By having everyone on stage all the time, literally providing accompaniment to his life, we understand why Bobby needs to distance himself at the end. And when he finally is alone, and blows out his candles, we breathe a sigh of relief with him. I had never gotten that before. Adding “Marry Me a Little” to eh end of act one helps, too, which they did in the 95 production. This Company had an emotional arc and cohesiveness that I hadn’t experienced with this piece before. This set, too, and the costumes felt more “New York” to me than any I have seen.
I last saw this with Boyd Gaines, Debra Monk, and Jane Krakowski in ‘95. I liked it, but this production had much more of a cosmopolitan flair. I also just liked the performances more. Barbara Walsh was surprising as Joann, a role that seems to belong to Elaine Stritch. I also was taken by Elizabeth Stanley, whose April was sweet, and much more interesting than she gives herself credit for.
I still think it’s a flawed show—amazing music with an entertaining but thin book—it’s one of those experiments in trying to catch the feeling of living in the city with the structure of the piece—Boris Aronson famously did this with the original set. This was the first time I was emotionally engaged and felt that feeling of closeness and busy-ness without connection—possibly due to Raul Esparza’s tony-winning performance as Bobby. But he was certainly buoyed by the tone of this production, and like I said, it had a cohesiveness I hadn’t seen before. Loved it.

The Red Shoes

A friend did a great job for a recent blog-a-thon, something like theHey, Internet, Stop being such cynical f-ing douchebags blog-a-thon, which just seems endlessly entertaining. The idea is to write about a movie that just fills you with unbridled joy. I immediately wanted to write something, but then things got busy, and I only had that one day, so I didn't. But it's stuck in my mind. So I'm doing it now.

How many movies fill me with unbridled joy? A lot. Nights of Cabiria, All About my Mother, Beautiful Thing, the list is actually pretty long. But there was one movie that just kept coming up in my mind. I first saw it when I was about 15, and it captured my heart.



Powell & Pressburger's MASTERPIECE (yes, I'm yelling it at you) about a doomed ballerina who is forced to choose between the career she loves and the man she loves. WATCH THE TRAILER!



See, I'm Jewish (Russian/Eastern European) and Irish. Which means that for me to truly, to my very soul, love love love something, there has to be a tinge of melancholy to it. Some kind of sadness, like honey to bring out the flavor of your tea. Not that I don't love complete silliness like the Muppets, or Carol Burnett, but even as I write that I notice there is always some poignancy in their silliness; some humanity that takes the humor and drops it directly into your heart. Does the Red Shoes do that? Not really, but I LOVE IT ANYWAY! I love it for the dancing, the melodrama, the fabulous costumes, the insane dialogue, the dancing, the COLOR! that makes the film look like it's hand tinted. And of course, the timeless story of the girl who danced until her feet were stumps and then died. Love you, Hans.



The story concerns a ballet hopeful, Miss Victoria Page, played brilliantly by Moira Shearer, a fiery redhead who wants to dance so badly that she cannot separate it from her will to live


"Monsieur Lermontov, I am that horror"

Lermontov: Why do you dance?
Vicki: Why do you live?
Lermontov: I don't know why exactly....but I must
Vicki: Well that is my answer, too.

IT'S ON! Meanwhile, we are watching a young composer who is brought on to assist the orchestra after telling Lermontov that his professor stole much of his music for the ballet that Lermontov's company was performing, called "Heart Of Fire". From this scene comes one of my favorite lines, "Remember, it is more disheartening to have to steal, than to be stolen from.....good day. (drop sugar cube in cup and dismiss)

Did I mention that Lermontov is played by Anton Walbrook, an actor I just found out was half-Jewish, gay, and feld the nazis, as well as acted in four languages in his career? Well, it is, and I can honestly say that it's for me one of my favorite performances on screen ever. Ever.



I really love so much about this movie. I love that Ludmilla Tcherina cannot pronounce Julian Kraster, and says "kwastuw" instead. I love that Leonid Massine not only choreographed the whole thing, but also is supporting in it. I love that the supporting male ballet start looks about 50! See him here, as the dancing newspaper:



And can we talk about the costumes? There is one giant blue dress that's particularly insane. There's a 20 minute full ballet right in the middle of the friggin' movie! I LOVE IT! Granted, for some reason I particularly love the ballet docs, and movies, but this one just gets everything right. And since it's 1948 it's done in gorgeous stunning technicolor. Look at these shoes!



I won't get too plot heavy, but Vicki becomes a huge star, after Lermontov sees her dancing to a record in small theater in Stadler Wells:


Check out the red dots!


But she falls in love and leaves the ballet for Julian while they work on a new ballet, the Red Shoes.

Lermontov: The Ballet of The Red Shoes" is from a fairy tale by Hans Andersen. It is the story of a young girl who is devoured with an ambition to attend a dance in a pair of Red Shoes. She gets the shoes and goes to the dance. For a time, all goes well and she is very happy. At the end of the evening she is tired and wants to go home, but the Red Shoes are not tired. In fact, the Red Shoes are never tired. They dance her out into the street, they dance her over the mountains and valleys, through fields and forests, through night and day. Time rushes by, love rushes by, life rushes by, but the Red Shoes go on.

NO ONE ELSE ever dances the ballet of the Red Shoes, and she is brought back on the night of the premiere of Julian's piece to dance. Lermontov convinces her. WITNESS THE DRAMA!



He's tearing her a-pa-ha-ha-hart! Sadness! Melodrama! Maids screaming about curtain times in French! What is there for her to do?! I can't tell you. You'll have to see the movie. But I will tell you that Anton Walbrook's curtain speech is worth the price of admission.

I love this movie. I just love it. There's so much more. I won't bore you. But I will tell you that Martin Scorcese names this film among his most important influences. IT'S THAT GOOD.

"One day when I'm old, I want some lovely young girl to say to me, "Tell me, where in your long life, Mr. Craster, were you most happy?" And I shall say, 'Well, my dear, I never knew the exact place. It was somewhere on the Mediterranean. I was with Victoria Page." "What?" she will say. "Do you mean the famous dancer?" I will nod. "Yes, my dear, I do. Then she was quite young, comparatively unspoiled. We were, I remember, very much in love."

Victoria: Julian?
Julian: Yes, my darling?
Victoria: Take of the red shoes.

{blubber}

My dinner with.....

Stinkylulu tagged me for the truly entertaining My dinner with..." meme. It gave me pause, but then I got a very clear picture of who it would be. And after trying to figure out somebody else, it occured to me it could only be...



My dinner with Harvey Fierstein. After all, if he can do that, and this:



And On Broadway as well, wouldn't you?

So here's the meme



1. Pick a single person, past or present, in the film industry who you'd like to have dinner with, and tell us why you chose this person

I was flirting with the idea of Anton Walbrook, who starred in the Red Shoes, because he not only acted in hour languages but was gay, half Jewish, and left Germany under the Nazis. And then there are there are the usual suspects--Michaelangelo, Jesus, Joan of Arc (were you really inspired or just tres fou?). And of course, I would love to have an audience with Dolly Parton. But other people can have a serious dinner and report back to me. And I was definitely feeling a gay vibe, which was surprising to me. So I picked Harvey because he has made a career in the theatre from a very young age, a career that includes the birth of off-Broadway, playwrighting, Broadway, movies, Tony Awards, and both sides of the gender line. And I'm sure he's got amazing stories. And he seems always a great balance of silly, level headed, smart, saavy, warm, and intelligent. And I love the kind of underground theatre he was involved in that is nowhere near as feasible or available as it once was. Not to mention being one of the first out nationally known actors EVAH! (And I have a sneaking suspicion this is about how I would look in drag):



2. Set the table for your dinner. What would you eat? Would it be in a home or at a restaurant? And what would you wear? Feel free to elaborate on the details.

I was dating a guy in DC once, who came up to NY and wanted to go to his favorite Italian restaurant, Po. It's on Cornelia in the West Village. So I'm there, and I use the restrooom, which is covered with newspaper stories about this exact space being Caffe Cino, on of the birthplaces of Off-Broadway, the place where the careers of Lanford Wilson, Sam Shephard, Robert Patrick, and Harvey Fierstein were launched. I freaked out, basically, much to the confusion of the people I was with. And it's a few blocks away from La Mama, ETC, where he played Jackie Curtis' mother in law and workshopped the individual parts of Torch Song. So it would have to be Po. We would have an entertaining and tasty pasta dinner, followed by a stroll through the village talking about all the theatre and performance that happened down there, from Barbra at the Bon Soir to the Factory girls at La Mama, and what Julius was like when it was the place to go. Hee. There would probably be two other friend as well, but not too large a group. I would love it to be one of those early summer nights where the air is cool and the humidity is low. The moon is full and the air is luscious enough that you just don't want to sleep. The perfect night for strolling and talking. Perhaps Magnolia for cupcakes?



3. List five thoughtful questions you would ask this person during dinner

1. Who most influenced you out of all the amazing people you have had the opportunity to work with?
2. Is there a hat you most enjoying wearing out of all you have--acting, playwrighting, book-writing, activist?
3. You seem to mention shopping a lot in interviews. What do you love so much about it?
4. What's your favorite turkey you've been in?
5. How do you feel the atmosphere for gay performers/writers, etc., has changed during the time you've been involved in theatre and movies (if at all)?
and the optional 6. How do you manage to be so darn inspiring? And tell me about this (and working with Anne Bancroft)....



4. When all is said and done, select six bloggers to pass this Meme along to. Link back to Lazy Eye Theatre, so that people know the mastermind behind this Meme.

Dave E-ticket; Sean Zombietruckstop; matt Mattycub; Patrick of Man.Hat.In; Alonso Moroccomole, and Matt of Aloof Dork

Cat

I really, really, really want to see this, and will be in NY, but my question is: why is Brantley so surprised at how good Anika Noni Rose is? He's seen her on stage and in movies. She was my favorite in Dreamgirls. I'm fascinated that he was more interested in Terrence Howard than in her. Of course, I'm biased, 'cuz I think she's great.

I saw Kathleen Turner do this with Charles Durning and Polly Holliday. Durning was fabulous. Turner was fine, but wierdly earthbound and disappointing to me. Not my favorite Williams. But oh well, nobody's asking me. hee.

Ideas

Well, I just realized I pretty much never post on this blog, but I do have some fabulous ideas. So I'm writing them here in hopes of expanding.

*Streetcar named Desire--how kazan got it wrong, and the nature of film impacting the way plays are staged in perpetuity. That was really bothering me in my car today.

*The revival of Company--namely how exciting pieces sometimes need exciting productions to remind us how exciting they actually were, and are

*that thing about 8 1/2 and Stardust Memories that I never really wrote on to my satisfaction

Tilda

Here is my meditation on Tilda Swinton in Michael Clayton for the Supporting Actress Blogathon 2007 at Stinkylulu.


I have been thinking about what it is I like so much about Tilda Swinton. What first came to mind is a production of the Oresteia I saw on tape that the National Theatre did in the 70s. This production was done with an attempt to replicate the experience of the original Greek productions, so the plays were done in masks. The most fascinating thing for me was that as I listened to the verse, and watched the actors bodies, the expression on the masks seemed to change. Now, I know the masks didn't actually move, but the seemed to morph according to what I felt the character was feeling. And it's that that I feel when I see Tilda. Her face is a mask in a classical sense. It seems blank, but not in any kind of vapid way; it's a mask of possibility. I'm never sure exactly if what I'm projecting is what is happening, and I am never less than riveted.



These gifts were apparent in the surpise of her performance in Narnia, but are especially present in the corporate cipher Karen Crowder that she plays to the hilt in Michael Clayton.




In the hands of a lesser actress, Crowder could have been a stock corporate villain. What sets her apart, though, is the focus and lack of vanity in Swinton's performance. One of the strengths of the performance is in the constant rehearsal that we see Karen performing. It's here we see her vulnerability, her need to please, and her calculation. But (besides the lack of vanity in Swinton showing actual flab and sweat--scandal!) it's the masklike quality that makes this performance above and beyond what it could have been. Does she believe what she is saying? Does she believe in herself? Is she scared? Lost? Over her head? Possibly all of them, but we aren't quite sure. Keeping us guessing makes her electric as a villian. We keep feeling for her because she may be truly a patsy. Or she may only be lustful for power. And it makes for fascinating viewing as she gets deeper and deeper into uncharted territory. The mask of her face keeps us guessing, so when she does flash with anger, terror, fear it's like watching a cat--we know she's going to pounce, but we don't know where or how. And this sets us up for what I think is the most thrilling moment in the film: when Karen realizes she is trapped, she starts to panic. And she actually starts to shake. In that moment, we see that she has gone further than she ever thought she was capable of, and is completely unprepared for the results. It's my favorite moment in the film, and one of my favorite in any film this year. She's bringing her specific gifts to a role making it more than written--one of my favorite tricks.

For Oscar watch, I can only hope she's nominated, if not win. The only other one that has surprised me as much is Emmanuelle Seigner, who blew me away in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, especially considering La Vie en Rose. Maybe I'll write a bit about her as well.

Meanwhile, viva Tilda.

Persepolis

I just realized that I didn't post about the 1955 Supporting actresses over at Stinkylulu, possibly because I don't really post here much, and I figure no one was reading. That's self-defeating. As always, check out supporting actresses.

And while you're at it, be very excited to see Persepolis, the new animated movie about childhood in Iran and the Islamic revolution.



Brilliant. Really. Not just the emotional resonance of the story, but the animation, which manages to stay true to the 2D comic book sense of the original while creating a 3D feeling with richness and depth. And all in black and white. There is a great use of Children's paper puppets, and a wonderful sense of the theatrical. Add in true menace, sadness, elation, confusion, and heartbreak, and you have the makings of a wonderful film. It's my pick for Oscar. I loved Ratatouille, but let's face it, it's not even in the same league. And this is no Triplets of Belleville let's nominate it as a nod to its quirkiness. This is a great film with a well told story.
I've been listening to "Reading Lolita in Tehran", and it's amazing how these two works of art work together. It might sound sexist, but I do respond to the personal in each of them. I don't know if it's because the authors are both women, but the particular oppression of women in the Islamic revolution is harrowing, and it really brings home how it must feel to have so many freedoms taken away. And also how much these two women do love their country and try to make it work. One of my friend's cousin is the author of Lolita, and is the same age as the author of Persepolis, and it really makes me feel for what her experience must have been like at such a young age. Wierdly, I have another friend who had to escape from Romania in her teens. We are so sheltered, really. And this always brings me back to the lie of revolution, or the wierd belief that there will be revolution without this kind of bloodshed. It's rare, especially when ideology takes over. We were even lucky in our revolution, probably because we were starting a new goverment in a new place, which circumvented our having to follow the rule of killing all of the original revolutionaries with half a brain and anyone who questions to make a new government. It happened with the French, the Russians, the Iranians, the list goes on and on. Interesting, too, how it was considered a Marxist revolution at first, which of course people grabbed on to. Ideas are power.
Anyhow--that's a digression. Go see the movie--you won't regret it.

Supporting Actresses

Check me out blogging for 1940 supporting actresses over at Stinkylulu, and at the end of November for 1955. Fun with old movies!

Hoping to write about a show I saw at the Getty and straight male wierdness with women's bodies, but I'll let it germinate.

And just saw Beowulf in 3D IMAX tonight. Surprisingly, I liked it. And if you're going to see it, do it in IMAX 3D. This movie needs to be big and in your face. It's a ride.

Funny Girl

This is for that Wyler Blogathon over at goatdog's movies.

I watched Funny Girl again about three weeks ago, even though I knew I could probably write an entire treatise on this movie without watching it again. I should come clean--this was the movie I would ask to stay up late to watch in its entirety when I was eight. Every year it was on I would watch it. In college, I used to request the soundtrack at the music library when I had extra time and journal while listening to it. And in grad school, during some extra time, I looked up the original reviews of the stage production.
So--let's deal with the elephant in the room first--Barbra. This is movie is about her, and there's no way to deny it. When renting the movie I should really own on DVD, Terry Sue, the venerable queen who owns the video store, called this "the best movie she ever directed" when I mentioned the featurette showed her behind the scenes interested in how everything was put together. And he also gave me an earful of why Anne Francis (who has third billing) is in the movie for about 5 mintues and has less screen time than Emma, Fanny's maid. And also how she had Lainie Kazan fired at the first moment she could from the stage play. And sure, you could put this all on Stresiand, but I do think Wyler, wisely, just let her do her thing and followed it. He has said that she did the role over a 1,000 times before doing it for the film, so he didn't really have much to offer her.
The most telling thing for me, back-story-wise, is how the movie charts Streisand's story and will a little more accurately than Brice's. One of the original reviews of the stage show said something like "She's not doing Fanny Brice, but whatever she is doing is astounding." The real Fanny Brice grew up on Long Island, had some money, and knew what she was getting into with Arnstein. But Ray Stark's mother-in-law was Fanny Brice's daughter, so the lore stayed intact. And it works. Streisand herself was a poor Jewish girl from Brooklyn who had a burning desire to perform and the talent to match. Who better to play the Jewish girl who made it from the second avenue theatres all the way to Broadway? Streisand basically did something similar.
The drive that took, and the drive that Streisand has, makes this movie work the way it does. A similar story is told in "Star", made the same year, starring Julie Andrews. Where that picture is overlong, confusing, and boring, this one seems, even at 2 1/2 hours, to be streamlined and seamless. I think it works because we focus on her talent, drive, and how it affects the love in her life. That is the only story told--even the daughter disappears and is only spoken of. Wyler's sense of movement, and the stellar performance of Streisand make it watchable over an over.
First, the costumes. Just as this wasn't really the story of Fanny Brice, this is not really the 20's. It's the 20s in 1968. See Barbra's long fingernails when she's going her first audition? Did someone tell her once that she had beautiful hands? Those fingernails are everywhere in the movie--they even have a spotlight to open the second half in "Sadie..". And the big sixties hair--kind of a twenties fantasia on the hair, right down to her asymetrical pageboy. She manages to look period and a la mode at the same time. There are too many costume pieces to love in this, and I think Irene Sharaff deserves a lot of credit for making this all work--the orange dress for "Don't rain on my Parade", the purple periwinkle toilet brush drop waist bauble for "You are woman, I am man" against an eniterly red room; the great teardrop bangled burnished plum dress she wears for "People". I could go on, but let's talk about the leopard coat.
Wyler makes a great decision to show us this leopard coat crossing a rainy streeet, going into a theater, walking about, and then finally the star looking over the collar in a mirror to say "Hello Gorgeous", which has become a signature line for Streisand. It's wry, but it's self-mocking tone was perfect to introduce an unlikely star and an unlikely "gorgeous" woman. And to introduce a story about a woman desparate to be seen and to be found beautiful.
With the opening, Wyler tells us he's going to follow his star, and follow her he does. I was struck watching this time how Stresiand holds the screen. Wyler trusts that we'll be with her. Unlike the current fast cutting mania, he manages to be still when he needs to be, but never be stagnant. "I"m the Greatest Star" (which is I still think one of thebbest musical moments on film ever), is basically two tracking shots. He doesn't cut unless he needs to, but he moves with her. And around her--her POV from the stage right before she sings "I'm the greatest star" for the first time heightens the excitement, as we're alone with her in the theatre, seeing what she sees.
With the exception of the bride number, Wyler keeps the stage to stage dimensions, befitting the story of a theatre talent. We're spared the "theatre turns into an enormous soundstage" numbers, and left with full on proscenium views for most of the numbers. For the numbers outside of the theatre, notably "Don't Rain on My Parade", he uses all that he has at his disposal--there's a train, a boat, an aerial shot--anything to keep the number moving. The numbers outside of the theatre have a theatrical quality about them--People feels as if it's on a soundstage, Nick becomes a participant in "Sadie, Married Lady" and "You are woman I am man", where the innner monologue versus outer conversation is handled deftly to hilarious results. The only camera shenanigans that didn't work for me are the two freezes when she meets Nick Arnstein. They happen twice, but are intrusive in a way that you are suddenly aware that someone has stopped the film and that you are watching a film. What does work, and something I think someone should have picked up for Dreamgirls, is "My Man". There is one cut in the entire number, and it's stunning. It works emotionally, it's the climax of the film, and you can't look away. Here Wyler again trusted his star. I feel like watching Wyler's direction in this movie I find myself saying "just because you can doesn't mean you should"--He manages to avoid any intrusive tricks, never getting in the way of the actors. You don't really notice his direction except that it supports the story. And for someone directing a big budget musical featuring the film debut of the lead, that's quite a feat.

And now for some of my favorite quotes:
Fanny: He's a gentleman. A gentleman fits in a any place.
Mrs: Brice: A sponge fits in any place. To me when a person's a stranger they should act a little strange.

When Fanny says she hasn't suffered enough to get a job with Zigfield, Mrs. Brice responds:
"Who says if you get it, in a week you won't lose it?"

Fanny;"Do you think beautiful girls are gonna stay in style forvever?!"

Zorro In Hell

Last night I went to the newly restored Ricardo Montalban theatre on Vine and saw the Culture Clash production of:



I had never heard of Culture Clash, a group started in 1984 in San Francsico. I suppose I'm surprised I hadn't before since I studied performance and performance art for a few years in New York, and love what you might call "downtown-y" performance there. Maybe it's the SF thing, though they've performed everywhere. They even had a TV show. So, color me clueless. This was the first Chicano performed Latino produced full theatrical production in Los Angeles history (according to the mayoral proclamation in the lobby), and the group has a venerable history of performance and instruction in political theatre.

So--onto the show. The blurb on the website says:
The Missionaries of Mayhem arrive at the historic Ricardo Montalban Theatre for the Los Angeles premiere of ZORRO IN HELL! Set in simpler times when our Gringo Amigos terrorized whom ever they pleased as they struggled with Mexican Immigration, Hispanic Girlie Mans, Indian Casinos and a foreign born governor with a thick Austrian accent! Culture Clash rips Zorro from the pages of pulp fiction to take on Hollywood's image machine while blasting though borders and stereotypes. Culture Clash remakes the Masked Hero so that he may truly represent the oppressed peoples everywhere including The West Side! Rise up Californians! Rise up for justice! Rise up for Zorro in Hell!

So--you know, no big topics here. Ha. Like always, this will be a non-proofread extravaganza, so hopefully I'll make some sense and you'll be able to follow.

The show is set in a flahsback. We meet a man who is masked in a straightjacket who calls himself Zorro is being questioned by FBI (CIA? Secret Service? They wear shorthand black trenchcoats and sunglasses) about who he really is. After being given some kind of truth serum, we all flashback to his arrival in a small town in California at a small inn. He is a (failed/failing) sitcom writer, and the inn he has stumbled upon is run by a 200 year old woman who has tutored/slept with many famous writers from Tolstoy to Murieta to Karl Marx and her sidekick the first Chicano in history. She tries to get him to recognize the true Zorro that he is. That's the big bruch version. In the midst of this are a couple of Zorro tales, a jewish grizzly bear therapist, the Austrian Gobernador, two gay cowboys, and a Gold Icon. You may get the idea. Amongst the plot are sprinkled musings on politics (current and past), history, and race.

Frankly, I don't know where to begin. The cast is great--talented, funny, obviously working hard. The jokes are funny--one of my favorite sequences involved a silent movie gag in which a mute Mexican villager tries to tell the lady heroine about Zorro. He pulls out the bells, whistles, finally charades, and when he makes Zorro's motion of the Z she says "They've chopped the prices at the mercado!" That scored a guffaw. And many more did, though I felt overall the humor only added to the scattered nature of the production.

In the final moment, when Zorro (Richard Montoya?--I'll have to check my program when I get back home) has had the audience stand up for California, he climbs up a ladder to the balcony extension and says "Let's hear it for clever agitprop theater". I think that may be the best explanation, though I think that's even a little too facile. Agitprop believes in it's ideas, whereas the cleverness of this troupe for me undercuts some of what they are trying to get across. Also, agitprop is pretty straightforward, whereas the hurricane of ideas and references in this show are almost exhausting to follow.

There is a discussion of the Zorro character and the purpose he serves, the Scotsman who wrote him, the character's roots in old California, whether he had been appropriated or not that began in the show but was never resolved, although I believe the idea of the show is the main writer's gradual acceptance of Zorro as a symbol of strength. The earlier idea of how he was created, by whom, and why are gradually recede to the foreground in favor of treatment of the Yaqui Indians in the filming of the original movies and the portrayal of "the sleeping Mexican" in all the films. Into this are references to everything from Ramona to West Side story, and digs at Schwarzenegger, Villaraigosa and the Riverside County police, as well as lines about everything from healthcare to immigration. I'm exhausted just thinking about it again. I kept thinking there are so many references in the show that the writer's may be too clever for their own (or the play's good). At the end, there were so many ideas thrown about, but I had no idea of the political purpose of the play except to agitate. Doesn't agitprop at least have a purpose? Are we supposed to leave the play upset about eminent domain, the environment, gay marriage, immigration, progress, empire building, latino stereotypes, the governor, Guantanamo, literary theft, bad writing, grizzly bear habitats, the loss of free speech and the right to a fair trial?

Or are we supposed to leave thinking that the cast was very clever? They're a smart, talented, fun to watch group. The references are fast and furious. If there is a chance to get a laugh, they'll take it. In most ways, I think they succeed more as a comedy troupe than political theater (at least in this piece). It's chock full of references, obscure to general. And if there is any opportunity for a joke, it's taken, no matter how ridiculous. The action even completely stops for a Matrix joke. Perhaps it's the influence of Family Guy--non-sequitirs that congratulate the audience for it's own cleverness and are shorthand to a laugh.

Don't get me wrong--I laughed and I think it's funny. It's just that if you are bringing up all these ideas, I would expect something to be done with them, or at least explored in some ways, as opposed to being set ups for a joke. Everytime there was a moment of emotional connection it would be undercut with a joke. So the play felt like little political diatribes and a bunch of silliness. I certainly enjoyed it--I'd rather have politics brought up in any way, even if not thoughtfully. I learned no more about the creation/co-opting of Zorro than I knew going in, and if I didn't know about Ramona through , it would've just been another lost reference to race and character construction. I don't even know how it could've been solved. It's a very entertaining play, but it didn't move me emotionally to find out more--it kind of congratulated me for what I already know and for being in on the joke.

Perhaps it's the size of the theatre--having this 5 actor piece on a stage with a turntable and projections may have overwhelmed this silly "let's put on a play" feeling that smaller spaces can have. Certainly it lost some of the intimacy that I imagine could really envelop you in a smaller house. Maybe that's why this comes off in some ways as an exercise in clever.

Like I said--it's funny and I'm glad I saw it. I would go see this work again before some of the other things that pass as theatre. And I would always support and love any group of people trying to entertain and say something at the same time. Perhaps it's indicative of where we are as a culture--there is so much information, so much to be upset about, that sometimes we can only look at it all and be overwhelmed, or make jokes--I know how that's how my mind works. But it comes off as a little self-congratulatory--watching an artist struggle with himself and make jokes telegraphing how quick he is.

The last moment, when Zorro is left alone in a straightjacket by the FBI who have basically told him he can be held without charges or have any right to an appeal, there is a moment of true frustration, where we can see where we could be headed (or some would argue, are). It's a moment that had a glimmer of dramatic intensity. There could have been a something harrowing that happened to leave us after a night of hilarity in a place that dark, especially considering the whimsy with which most of the ideas were brought up throughout the evening. Instead, our hero is saved by a Salvadoran immigrant janitor (whom he thinks is Mexican). Well, it's a comedy, and we always want Zorro to win.

Life changing performance blog-a-thon

I have taken up the gauntlet thrown down by Emma at All About my Movies to write about the performance that changed my life. It’s not a gauntlet thrown down directly in front of me by her, but it’s an open invite, so I’ll take it up. I’ve read some great posts about performances I knew, and those I didn’t, and am fascinated at the idea of doing this at all. One performance? Are you crazy?
So being a typical/atypical Gemini, I can’t make up my mind. I have chosen one, but I’d like to share just a couple of runners-up as well. And I don’t even know about changing my life, but certainly they have changed how I feel and are cherised. Surprisingly, most of these are women. Ha.

These are the ones that popped to mind, for whatever reason:
Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl—I used to ask to stay up late when it ran on TV, and it was my earliest favorite ever. I still think “I’m the Greatest Star” and “My Man” are two of the greasest musical performances ever committed to film. If there is ever a film to make you believe that drive does a lot, this is the one.

Marisa Paredes in Flower of My Secret, and let’s face it, most women in any later Almodovar, and I’ll even throw in Gael Garcia Bernal in Bad Education. Celia Roth in All About My Mother—and Marisa Paredes in that one, too. Once again, the power of finding yourself and accepting who that is while accepting the ridiculousness of life I don’t think is paralleled by any other film maker. His films make you want to live.

Robert Ganoung in Parting Glances (and John Bolger--mad crush material, and Steve Buscemi) all give great performances in a movie that I saw 4 of the 6 nights it was in Albuquerque when I was 18. Still one of the best depictions of adult gay men living an actual life and having believable relationships, it made me believe that relationships were possible, love was possible, and that I should move to New York. Well, at least I did one. And then moved away.

The favorite performance, though, is one in which love and trust are tested, and even though they are trampled like yesterday’s dead flowers, hope does not die. Although All About my Mother runs a close second, the film that knocks me over every time I see is “Nights of Cabiria" by Federico Fellini, starring his wife and muse, Guilietta Masina in a performance that will make your hair stand on end.



The film is probably familiar to most audiences through it’s musical adaptation “Sweet Charity.” And although that incarnation has some memorable tunes, it in no way nears the depth and resonance of the original movie. The film follows Cabiria, a Roman prostitute, on a few days in the course of her life. We meet her as she is being pushed into the river by her boyfriend so he can steal her purse. She is saved by some children, but it’s clear she is a ball of defensiveness, at once needing the help she is given but refusing to believe she can’t do it all alone.



Fellini gives us a chance to see unseen Rome through her eyes—the life of a prostitute; the others she works with ; the catacombs of the homeless and the priest who ministers to them (a scene only restored in the 90s after years of being censored by the Catholic Church); the rich man who picks her up and the obsessive life of objects he lives; her best girlfriend, the big working girl with the spiky hair, Wanda. It is a perfect way to watch the human parade—through the eyes of a naïf who is tough on the outside but as runny as caramel in the sun inside. The range of the performance is operatic, and always hypnotic.




In one of my favorite scenes, Cabiria wonders into a theater and is brought on stage and hypnotized. The tough girl shows the tenderness underneath to the delight of the audience, eventually quieting the theatre. And after that embarrassing performance, she meets the man of her dreams.

The man, seemingly too good for her, an unassuming accountant, romances her and convinces her to runaway with him. And not only run away, but to sell her house and all her possessions. **SPOILER** And in a last chilling moment, when she is rapt with happiness and reveals to him all the cash she holds from the sale of her house, we realize when she does that he is not what he seems. I remember seeing it for the first time and thinking “no, no” when it becomes apparent that he has lured her into the woods to take her money and then throw her off a cliff, ending the same way she started.

What makes this the performance that changed my life, though, is the little hope that comes through at the most unlikely moment. Cabiria, humiliated, broke, and heartbroken, is walking on a small road in the woods. Suddenly she is overtaken by a group of revelers, young people out for a small night parade, it seems, or just dancing to the Spring. She is bereft, but gradually, very gradually, we see a smile creep up the side of her face while there are still tears streaming from her eyes. Even though she has lost everything, she can’t stop living, or even being amused. She may not be able to stop who she is or what has happened, but she can’t help but feel tickled. I feel like there isn't a person who hasn't felt that, and Checkhov said it was his favorite emotion--laughter through tears. This little clown--and I say that in that she seems to embody the humor and the pathos that are the essence of that archetype, is the best example of the beauty of life, and the persistence of hope, that I’ve seen on film. It’s that smile that made me go back and see it the next day after I saw it the first time, and keeps me revisiting this performance again and again. It's an extraordinary performance in an extraordinary film.

Hairspray!

I got to see Hairspray last night, and it is just one big finger-lickin' bucket of fun. John Travolta is that wierd packet of squeeze butter on the side that comes with it, but you can ignore and not use while not having it effect the overall excellence of the the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cole slaw and biscuit. The stage play was a blast, too, so it's no surprise the movie is as well. Though some of the songs were cut, and some characters cut down in the process, the story moves along and is as fun as it ever was. Nikki Blonsky is adorable and a complete find. Amanda Bynes is funny and totally gets Penny. I liked Queen Latifah (though I still miss Ruth Brown's voice and manner-but who doesn't?), who is having a great time as well, and Elijah Kelly, who plays Seaweed, is a revelation. Michele Pfeiffer is having a blast and is great, as is Christopher Walken. Zac Ephron is all cuteness and plays with it, as is James Marsden, who came as a complete surprise to me--probably the "who knew?" performance of the film. And the kids are all great. It's not as broad as the play or the first movie, but it has enough winks to keep you going, and everyone's on the same page. They even pulled off the civil rights moment (for me--though not for a couple of others we talked to after the film). I miss the jail sequence, but the rest is still there.
That leaves Travolta, who isn't necessarily bad, just strange. For some reason, he's the only person in the movie doing a Baltimore accent, and it doesn't work. In fact, at times it gets in the way of the jokes. He seems to be enjoying himself, and that's perhaps the problem. I kept wishing for the warmth of Harvey Fierstein, who disappeared into the role in the first five minutes of the play and seemed to envelop the whole production with his warmth--it's one of the big "might have beens" of the last few years. Oh well. Shankman manages to work around it well--I just wish that he wasn't so aware of himself and playing at it in his performance. It felt like he was going "Look at me! I'm in drag! I love this!"
Still--the movie was a lot of fun and I'll probably go again, just to see the opening sequence. Loved it! Bucket of fun!

Show Business

So before you read this, know one thing. I am a theatre nut. Not as nutty (read: competetive,bithcy) as some theatre nuts, but still...there is no where I feel as comfortable as in a theater. I could spend all day in a theatre, and have. When I was acting, it was the place I loved being--I even catered once on the stage of the New York State theater and Lincoln Center and didn't want it to end. Catering, folks. On tour, with an execrable children's show, seeing theatre architecture across the country, and performing in theatres like this and this kept me going. So, just to let you know, I'm biased.

Last night I saw "Show Business: The Movie", about the 2003/04 season on Broadway. The film focuses on 4 musicals: "Avenue Q", "Wicked", "Taboo", and "Caroline, or Change", from rehearsals to the Tonys, and is directed by Dori Berenstien, a Tony award-winning producer herself. Charting the rise (and fall) of the shows, she gets great footage from actors, critics, producers, and talking heads. There's some excellent performance footage, and I remembered how magical it can be when a show works. The movie, though, feels like just an outline. Even at a little over an hour and a half, I was left with a glancing portrait of each of the shows, wanting to see more (she's a producer--perhaps that's the point). The footage she has is so rich, though, I was wishing this was a series of movies, as each show seems as if it could've supported it's own doc.

The film is divided into four seasons (Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring), and follows the shows through rehearsal and opening-- Q, then Wicked, then Taboo, and finally Caroline. This is tracked, somewhat ingeniously, by a Greek chorus of critics, including Michael Reidel of the Post; Christopher Isherwood, late of Variety and now of the NYTimes; Linda Winer of Newsday; Patrick Pacheco of Show People; and Jacques Le Sourd from Gannett, who are all shown eating and drinking at a round table and discussing theater. Add to that, from remote locations, John Lahr and Ben Brantley and you have quite a slew of formidable critics. Reidel comes off as a complete ass, which is somewhat delicious (surprise, the Post gave the doc it's worst review). So, added to watching rehearsals and the creative process, we also see what the critics are predicting will succeed or fail (sometimes before opening). Reidel seems to have had a personal vendetta against Taboo, and when that show fails, it looks as if it's completely the media's fault. Winer even says that she doesn't think the show had a fair chance, and certainly the fans (some of whom had seen the show dozens of times) crying outside of closing night would probably agree. Boy George has a great line about the critics supposedly being there to champion new work but are completely responsible for its demise, and that they'll probably be stuck with Andrew Lloyd Weber. Certainly Wicked makes that point--though all the critics lambasted it, it is, and continues to be, the biggest financial success on Broadway. It's kind of wonderful watching thier cluelessness, and I'm sure the producer took not a little relish in making them look slighty pompous. The best laughs come from the critics.

Critics aside, the strength of this film is getting to see all of the performers and creators in rehearsal and in action, particularly Tonya Pinkins, Euan Morton, Raul Esparza, Idina Menzel, Joe Mantello, Stephen Schwartz, George C. Wolfe, Idina Menzel, Jeff Whitty, Jeff Marx, and Bobby Lopez, and Boy George, and co-producer of the film Alan Cumming, who all provide great interviews. But then again, it feels a little crammed, and all of these people you could watch for much longer. George C. Wolfe in rehearsal is fascinating, as are the Jeanine Tesori and Tony Kushner, who we get to see hitting a wall in one of the many humorous places in the film. My personal fave, though, is my new crush, Jeff Marx (co creator of Avenue Q), who has just the right amount of dorkishness, intelligence, cynicism and silliness to be adorable. And hearing his Dad talk about how he couldn't hold a job and that he was so wierd he had to do great things, you just want to give him a hug. He doesn't mention he has a law degree. Ah, parents. There's also a bit of the Tonya Pinkins story, and how that shaped the role of Caroline, which is legendary I think, at this point.

For all it leaves in, though, there are a few notable omissions: though much is made of Avenue Q and it's Tony suprise, no one mentions the "Vote with your Heart" Tony mailer song that the show sent out pointedly to sway voters; though Anika Noni Rose is shown in rehearsal, no mention is made of her Tony win for Caroline. And I actually could've used more Tony Kushner (but that's me).

The film feels like a fascinating conversation starter, with just enough to get you hooked in, but no payoff. It definitely made me miss New York, and the excitement of the theatre there that is unlike any other. Ultimately, though, it could've been an entire season of a reality show (and somewhat felt like it--"The Race for the Tony's"). Too bad the Grease show didn't work--it could've used a little of the sparkle of this film.

The thing that keeps coming up during the film is the love that people have for these shows, and for fighting this uphill battle. Euan Morton is heartbreaking on the pre-mature closing of Taboo, and you realize how much heart and soul can go into a show--magnified by hearing and seeing him perform. For all the cyncism I hear is rampant among performers on Broadway (calling in sick, complaining, etc) in Phantom, Beauty and the Beast, etc, it's nice to see that shows are still created for love of doing it, and for getting a story you can care about to an audience. The most poignant and joyous scene in the film is the passing on of the gypsy robe--a time honored tradition that never having been in a Broadway show I had never witnessed. The robe, with sewn patches from every show, is given to the chorus member who has been in the most productions, who then has to circle the stage 3 times and visit all the dressing rooms while wearing the robe. IT's a joy to watch, and a something to see how important this tradition is. With all the talk of money and how much a show costs or will profit, it's edifying to see this gift passed around, and how much emotional power it has. And that alone is a reason to keep doing it. I'm a sucker for nostalgia on some level, if it's done in the right way, and those traditions, the spaces, and the ghost light get me every time. Like I said, the film may have it's weaknesses, but on this subject I'm biased. Any information is good information.

Today....

It's been a while since I've posted here, so I figure the first day of my 40 th year (yes, folks, I turned 39 yesterday) is a good a time as any for resolutions. So, I am resolving to write more criticism/film/book stuff here, and then just blah on my other blog. Blogs a-poppin'.

So, since I'm one of the smackdowners over at Stinkylulu this month, this would be a good time to write about those performances. If I had seen them. So tonight's a double feature, and I will have watched all by this Saturday, lord willing and the crick don't rise.

Meanwhile--finished off the Armistead Maupin latest. It's like a new Tales in the City, but focused on Michael and his new, much younger boyfriend (just like the one Maupin has...hmmm..who is adorable, by the way). It's a little bent on trying to wring poignant moments about death and life out of the narrative, but somehow he works for me best when he's just inenting fun characters and plotting them. There is some plot summary of the earlier tales in this book, and you just long for how exciting and silly those were. I do like the ease with which he writes about sex, which has always been one of his strengths, as well as his writing about San Francisco. It's nice to revisit the characters, but I don't feel like it reaches the poignancy it's aspiring to.

And I did like La Vie en Rose, the new bio pic about Edith Piaf with a knockout performance by Marion Cotillard (that should be nominated for an Oscar). The perf is somewhat stagy, but it works beautifully for a woman who performed a great deal of her life. You always feel it's Piaf performing it, and I have no idea who this actress really is, besides great. I am most interested, though, that no one in the movie smokes. They are in France and New York from 1920 - 1960 and no one smokes. They drink, they fight, they visit prostitutes, but no cigarettes. Hmmmm.....so much for historical realism. They may think it's glamorizing smoking, but watching La Vie en Rose didn't make me want to drink or prostitue myself. Anyhow...the only mis-step is Piaf's first concert, where suddenly we are not hearing her sing anymore, only montaged gesticulations of singing while some instrumental overly orchestrated plays. Why? Other than that, go to watch her.

That's all for now. And tonight, it's California Suite

Supporting Actress Blog-a-thon

As part of the Supporting Actress Blogathon over at Stinkylulu, I’ve decided to give some props to a new actress I haven’t seen before, but am now incredibly impressed with.
Almodóvar has a way of introducing new performers to the world at large, the first to recognize their greatness, or at least bring them to a wider audience: Antonio Banderas, Javier Bardem, Penelope Cruz, Victoria Abril, Rossy di Palma, Chus Lampreave, Marisa Pardes (love, love), and the always wonderful Carmen Maura. Volver is no exception. Besides showing the world that yes, ladies and gentlemen, Penelope Cruz can act (and brilliantly), he has introduced me to another actress whose performance makes me want to run out and Netflix everything she has done, as I did with Marisa Paredes after All About my Mother and Flower of My Secret. This time, it’s

Blanca Portillo as Agustin in Volver. I will spare you the plot summary, but this careworn, caring creature is for me one of the greatest accomplishments of the film. As he did for a moment in Flower of My Secret, Almodovar visits a small windy town outside of Madrid. What he finds there is the complex, hysterical, stubborn Agustin, who roots the film to reality, even while believing all the while in ghosts.

Portillo’s greatest achievement is to give nobility and sweetness to a character that could have been a neurotic rube. Worrying and wearing black, cherishing the memory of her mother "the Hippy" while smoking pot, and delivering gunfire kisses all around, Portillo manages to make Agustin the pull that brings everyone back to the village. The character represents superstition and small mindedness on one hand, but openness of heart and great loyalty on the other. When Agustin is brought on a reality show to air some dirty laundry in exchange for a trip to Houston for treatment of her cancer, what could have been a silly moment of laughter at the ridiculousness of the character and the situation becomes a harrowing moment of decision and a condemnation of all those would trade Agustin’s pain for their entertainment. Always meaning well, but sometimes desperate, Agustin stays with us throughout the film as a voice of conscience, as well as a reminder of compassion, goodness, and self-sacrifice. One of the most interesting characters I’ve seen in a while, and a performer I am thrilled to have been introduced to. She would make me want to visit a windy, barren Spanish village. Let’s hear it for Blanco Portillo.

Smackdown

I'm very glad to be doing the Smackdown over at Stinkylulu. Check it out when you have moment. I'm working on making this blog more about film writings, and the other place I post, Live Journal more personal. For the most part I'm posting over there, but trying to do some more writings here. A balance will be struck, I would imagine.

Meanwhile, thanks for visiting, and here's a little capsule about Pan's Labyrinth:


Well, we were not prepared for that. If I were a more florid reviewer I would say something like "Del Toro's vision, shocking and beatiful, has the power to pry open your heart little by little until you are left with no defenses. As much a fairy tale as a vision of heroism, sacrifice, rebellion and loss." But I'm not, so this looks like a terrible, beatiful, and ultimately harrowing view of life and sacrifice under fascism, as well as a simple fairy tale quest. I went with someone I was meeting for the first time, and during the credits all I could think was how to have a moment for myself, because this person didn't seem like someone I'd want to be that open near. Shocking for me because there is so much violence, and truly disturbing, but it may be my favorite movie of the year so far.

9/11

I wrote this for a post on my other blog, which I seem to be writing more in lately--it's a bit more personal. I'm not sure if anyone reads this, but I'll go ahead and post this here as well, anyway.

Okay. Here goes.

Sept 10th I returned from a vacation that was cataclysmic for me. I went to my first radical faerie gathering with my friend Jon. I had met Jon at a dinner hosted by a friend Damon who had recently graduated undergrad at Brown. Damon and I had met when he was 18 and I was 28. There was a mutual attraction, but I wasn’t going there. 4 years later he had been rowing crew for four years, 6’2 black hair and green eyes, and was just stunning. And OUT OF THE CLOSET!! So he had a very gay dinner party. Jon walked in with Birkenstocks, a beard, and cotton drawstring pants. We hit it off. I dress preppy-ish, but I’m really a hippie. Neither of us had been to a gathering, so we went, camped out, and hung out in a field for ten days. It was amazing. And there I met a man, David, who I would end up dating for a year—eventually leaving NY and moving up to Vermont for. But that’s in the future at the moment. Monday night I meet one of the guys I met at the faerie gathering, Mo, for a screening of Funny Girl at the Ziegfeld. Mo, an actor and a great big ham, tells me stories of seeing the movie in London in 1964.

Sept 11 was my first day back at work. The sky was beautiful, clear, and I was carrying great memories of the weekend, heading back to my job at the investment bank. I had been working there for about three years at that point. I had worked all over downtown with Tiger Temps, a temp company that used artists, performers, etc. I had worked at 3 WFC for about a year and a half. We had a satellite of the group I managed at One Liberty, but I was heading to the main office down from the stock exchange. I think I had my walkman on. Or maybe not, as I remember someone asking around as soon as I got off the subway “Did you just hear that boom?” I didn’t. I kept walking. I was heading South on William. I looked to my right where the building cover opened to reveal the trade centers, and I saw smoke, then fire coming out of one of the towers. I stood and looked at it for a couple of minutes. “Hmm,” I thought, “The World Trade Center is on fire. Someone will take care of it.” I turned to walk to work. Some random bits of paper and flotsam started falling on my head, and you could smell the burn. I heard a woman scream and start to freak out. There was a cop directing traffic. “I don’t know what the big deal is,” I thought, “I’m just going to get my coffee and breakfast.” It sounds weird, but I actually thought those words. And then I went and got coffee and breakfast.

When I arrived at work, everyone was watching on the TV screen. We were about 16 stories up and near the water on Broad. We couldn’t see the trade center. We were all watching footage of a few blocks away. Then the second plane hit. Everyone ran downstairs and out the door. We all converged outside of the building. The man we had hired as the permanent manager said “We should be inside answering phones. They said it was safe.” I mentioned that as two planes just flew into tall buildings a few blocks away, and that we were in a 30 story building completely open to the air on one side, perhaps people wouldn’t feel all that safe. And who was calling in for computer questions right now? I can see now he was trying to gain some control, but at the time it just seemed idiotic and insensitive. We all eventually were ushered back in, as there was nowhere else to go—it’s not like we could head north. Inside people were freaking out. A woman from the agency we all worked with burst into tears with her father on the phone. I remember thinking she was in a leadership position, and should hold it together better. Nice, huh? One of our co-workers lived on Staten Island and was 7 months pregnant. Her husband taught pre-school at a site near the WTC. He had the forethought to get his entire class out and to safety. Everyone was answering email and cell phone calls, and finding out if everyone was safe, reassuring relatives. We also were watching the whole thing on TV. I remember looking out a window and seeing people in suits and office clothes running through the streets, looking for cover. We had a group in One Liberty. The police had told them to go back in the building, but luckily they left. One guy just went home, but the rest actually came to our building. It was lucky: the floor they were on had 8 inches of debris on the ground in some places, and all the windows shattered.

The first building collapsed and we couldn’t see out the windows. Everything was gray, like we were trapped in a big piece of lint. The second building collapsed and everything turned a deep shade of blue, almost black. The sun was blocked out, but it was the light coming through that turned the debris that color. It felt like being suspended in outerspace. The air wasn’t moving. I don’t remember most of the rest of the day at the office. I remembering David emailing from Vermont to make sure I was okay. We had to make sure the phones were covered, and since I was a manager I had to stay and make sure as well. It seemed like everyone wanted to be valiant, to be a hero in some way—like if we cover the phones we are being noble. It’s a good human impulse, but it was interesting watching people try to wrest as much control from an uncontrollable situation as they could. Having been to meetings about contingency plans, meetings about meetings, etc, this was one thing we had never covered. By the time the three of us could leave—my immediate boss, the consultant liaison, and me—there were no gas masks left. We wet papertowels and held them over our mouths as we walked outside. There was no wind. I can describe it no other way than to say it was like being in a sandstorm on the moon. Everything was covered in a white grey powder. I looked to my left at Wall Street and couldn’t see to Trinity church. There was a man in the street in what looked like an astronaut suit. It looked like he was walking on the moon. And there we were in our suits and ties, with papertowels over our mouths.

The smell was that awful acrid smell we would smell for months. Burning plastic, chemicals. When I first moved to LA I smelled that smell and it freaked me out. I looked over and saw a car burning in the street. It smells like that. After going back to work, sometimes the smell would suddenly infest the building as the wind had changed. We would all feel nauseated. People went home sick. We walked through it that Tuesday afternoon, emerging to light somewhere North of Fulton. As we walked past City Hall, there was a large group of people gathered around a construction site. There were hammers lying in the grass, and wood being used to shield construction was being ripped off, sawed in pieces and used to make stretchers. There was a flat bed truck full of them. Everyone wanted to help. We walked on; another guy who had left with us kept saying “this is just like that movie”. I didn’t know what he was talking about, and this was definitely not my kind of movie. Later, my guitar teacher told me that she felt a little guilty, but it actually looked beautiful from her buildling on W4th--beatiful and terrible, with the glints of the sun relected in the exploding glass, a glittering shower. Everything was cinematic.

We finally made it to the W4th station after walking for about 45 minutes. I got on a train going uptown looking down at my black shoes, covered in fine, white gray powder. A girl sat next to me saying how we shouldn’t be surprised. She was half Jewish and half Arab, and with the way we treated other countries we should be surprised that it didn’t happen earlier. I think I told her that that may be true, but perhaps this wasn’t the best time to explore those ideas. I really don’t remember what I said, but someone on the train thanked me for being patient, because they would’ve decked her. I guess she was making everyone tense. You could feel people breathe when she got off.

I lived up by the Cloisters, and I invited everyone I knew over. Peter and Matt from downstairs; Jon, who I mentioned before; Vivian; Roxy; another David from school; a friend of Viv’s. I made chicken soup for everyone and we watched funny videos, because we couldn’t bear anymore news. We just wanted to be with each other. And laugh.

We were off work for a week. My boss called to tell me that we would be back the following Tuesday. I said that perhaps some people might have a difficult time returning. “Why?” he asked. Um, maybe because something pretty fucking TRAUMATIC happened the last time they were at work?? Just amazing, that one. I had a hard time going back. I had a hard time accepting a tank and armed soldiers outside of the Starbucks. “Doesn’t it make you feel safer?” someone asked. No, it didn’t. Nor did I like the family wearing “9/11 never forget” T-shirts while walking around downtown either. The tourism of the whole thing really began to get upsetting. And now the nostalgia-izing. I think I still have that "lets' move on" attitude--that there is so much wrong and so much we need to work on in the world, let's not stew. But then, here I am still affected by it, I think. There are more flashes from that time—I remember going to group therapy; we couldn’t get past the barricade at 14th without being a resident, but there was a deli on 14th and 8th that had one door on each street. If you entered on 14th, you could exit on 8th and walk right past the police. Toward the burning buildings and into the therapist’s apartment where we all just sat kind of shell-shocked. People were kind, I remember, and we were all being polite. Everyone was in shock. New Yorkers get a bad rap anyway--they are usually friendly, just aggressively so. I don't think it was the friendliness that was different, I just think everyone was more vulnerable and the way it came across was gentler. I remember a VP thanking me for how great I was, and that I made her feel safer. I still have no idea what I did. I think I just didn’t break down. And I think after that I finally went on Zoloft. Which was helpful. I think I still don't believe it--that such a huge thing is gone. A daily thing--I would still catch myself saying, "Oh I'll just walk over to...oh no I won't. It's gone."

And I didn’t lose it when I went to my temp agency, and saw the list of 100 artists, actors, musicians, that were lost at Cantor Fitzgerald. Wall Street likes to use temps. And I guess I was lucky. My 4 year job started with a one day assignment to pass out stamps. I’m sure some actor got a call on Monday saying “Are you free tomorrow? I have a one day assignment at Cantor Fitzgerald. It’s on the 107th floor of the World Trade Center. Be there at 8:30”