Poetry 2 for a stormy day

Double posting from my other blog, but I figured since I double posted the poetry before, I'd do it again....

Buck pointed out Whitman in my last post about poetry, and really, how could I leave out Whitman, the great and mostly likely gay king of American ecstasy? Fred Hersch has a great piece/song cycle based on Leaves of Grass, and this particular section I now can't hear except to music (at least the bloded parts that he set to music)--

I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,
I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.
Press close bare-bosom'd night--press close magnetic nourishing night!
Night of south winds--night of the large few stars!
Still nodding night--mad naked summer night.
Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth!
Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!
Earth of departed sunset--earth of the mountains misty-topt!
Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!
Far-swooping elbow'd earth--rich apple-blossom'd earth!
Smile, for your lover comes.
Prodigal, you have given me love--therefore I to you give love!
O unspeakable passionate love.

Honestly. Far-swooping elbow's earth--rich apple-blossom'd earth? How frigging astounding is that turn of phrase? So, so rich. Wow.

VD Poetry

I'm double posting from my other blog, but I just love these poems, so it's worth sharing....

I'm not a fan of Valentine's Day, but it put me in mind of this poem by ee cummings, which is probably my favorite poem ever, notwithstanding my strange HS Freshman obsession with The Hollow Men and later love of Auden (who knew he had his own society?), being the gay. This poem, though, just gets me (and I have to admit, yes, I was introduced to it by a Woody Allen movie)

I've not really thought about it ever, but because you don't really need to know, if I were to list my favorite poems, the one below being at the top, they would probably be:

Desert Places - Robert Frost
Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock - T.S. Eliot
anyone lived in a pretty how town - ee cummings
Osso Buco - Billy Collins READ THIS POEM IF YOU DON'T KNOW HIS STUFF! Gorgeous!--excerpt:

But tonight, the lion of contentment
has placed a warm heavy paw on my chest,
and I can only close my eyes and listen
to the drums of woe throbbing in the distance
and the sound of my wife's laughter
on the telephone in the next room,
the woman who cooked the savory osso buco,
who pointed to show the butcher the ones she wanted.

Pretty greatest hits list, actually, but they're still wonderful. No revelations, but revelations. And this one, so succinct and bare and rich.

Feeling poetic today--maybe it's the rain.


somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

5 questions

Here's the interview spurred on by the Interview/5 questions meme that Stinkylulu asked for takers.

Question 1
If your "day job" was a blog, what would it be called and what would we see on it?

www.movieposters.com. There probably is one. And you’d see a lot of movie ad materials. That’s as deep as I want to get with that one. I have a much more flip answer, but I’ll keep that to myself.

Question 2
Cribbing from mrpeenee: What do you consider Oscar's biggest all-time f*ck up in choosing a winner? Please be certain to justify your answer with scathing detail. Alternately/Additionally: What about this year's nominations? What do you consider Oscar's biggest mistake there?

That’s hard to pick. I am reminded of Judy Garland being passed over for A Star is Born; Marisa Tomei, who I think is great, but still surprises me in that particular win; Jennifer Connolly who I think acts with her hair. But probably for me the biggest oops, besides Guilietta Masina not even being nominated for Nights of Cabiria (!) is Gloria Swanson losing the Oscar for Sunset Boulevard. I mean, I like Judy Holiday, but really? Srsly? In Born Yesterday? Compared to the amazing work Swanson did, not only in front of but behind the camera. It’s one of the most thrilling, terrifying, fascinating performance ever committed to film. Indelible. Intelligent. Brilliant. Disturbing. Probably the best dramatization of the off-the-rails fantasizing and self-deception in the history of cinema, and her triumph is that even though she’s a complete loon you see how Joe was pulled in and it all makes complete sense. Not easy. I recently saw it on a big screen again, and it still works. It’s breathtaking, like watching a tightrope walker at times, and it’s all in her eyes. It’s a master class in film acting—how to be enormous but still not too big. And that she used her own films in it? Amazing. And she was all of 50 or something at the time. Can you imagine Meg Ryan trying to pull that off? It’s one of the most egregious errors in the history of the Oscars, and it was probably all politics.

This year’s nominees? I’m out of it this year—maybe it’s fatigue. I’m still annoyed about 4 months, three weeks, and two days being passed over last year. And Brokeback the year before that. Ugh. I’m not feeling Philip Seymour Hoffman for Doubt, really. I think Emile Hirsch should’ve been nominated, since I didn’t even recognize him. Or James Franco. PSH kinda yelled a lot, and I missed what his possible guilt was—threw off the piece for me. I like him a lot, unlike some people, but I just didn’t love him in Doubt. I didn’t see In Bruges, or Elegy, both of which I heard had amazing perfs. Sam Rockwell scared the bejesus out of me in Snow Angels, but that was released in March, and the Academy seems to be stretched to remember past October. Penelope was lucky they remembered her from the summer. I do think Mickey Rourke was good in the Wrestler, but I get the feeling that it’s a big ego who’s living in past glory playing a big ego living in past glory. Gory as well. I don’t know the guy, so I could be wrong, but I don’t feel like I’d give him the award. Not up to me, though.

Question 3
In case you haven't noticed, I'm somewhat fixated on supporting actresses. Who's your favorite supporting actress of all time? And if you could, which performance would you compel StinkyLulu to profile?

I have a big soft spot for Dianne Weist in Hannah and Her Sisters. In fact, I would LOVE it if Stinkylulu would profile that performance, knowing what a special place that holds for both of us, I believe. And I do love her as a supporting actress, once again affirmed in Synechdoche, NY.


Question 4
As noted in Question 3, StinkyLulu has become somewhat obsessive about one category of the Academy Awards. If you were to do the same -- take one category and train the focus of your blog on it -- what category might you choose? (NOTE: Your category might be an actual category, or one of your invention.)

Unsung character actors/actresses. Along the lines of Margo Martindale, Celia Weston, Anne Wedgeworth and the like.

Question 5
What's your favorite thing about your blog? What's your favorite thing about mine?

About mine? I guess I’m just glad it’s an outlet when I choose to use it.

Yours? How articulate and precise the writing is. And the screencaps.

Supporting Actress 1945

Check out the 1945 Supporting Actress Smackdown

And to prime yourself, watch the hysterical Carol Burnett parody

Can we hope?

After reading the New York Film Critic's Circle picks, it's fairly certain Penelope will win best supporting.

But can we hope for a MILK best picture win? This is the second, and Penn and Brolin's as well.

Looks like Sally Hawkins will get a nom, though I thought it was Kate Winslet's year perhaps. May still be.

But I'm hoping for

Penn
Cruz
Brolin
Hawkins (who really was quite remarkable)

I'd love to see Kate get it especially since she's got possibility for two noms, but they've actually been giving Oscars for specific performances lately. Who knew?

More will be clear with the Globe noms tomorrow AM.

This feels a little like horse-racing to write about, but I really would love to see MILK awarded. Really alot.

Smackdown 1969

Check me out over at the Supporting Actress Smackdown for 1969.

Movie List

So I was tagged for this meme by Stinkylulu for Blog Cabin's Alphabetical Movie Meme, so I'm doing it. Here are the rules, copied right off his blog. I am little scared how many people have linked to this meme, so wow.

Pick one film to represent each letter of the alphabet.

2. The letter "A" and the word "The" do not count as the beginning of a film's title, unless the film is simply titled A or The, and I don't know of any films with those titles.

3. [As regards franchises and sequels,] movies are stuck with the titles their owners gave them at the time of their theatrical release. Use your better judgment to apply the above rule to any series/films not mentioned.

4. Films that start with a number are filed under the first letter of their number's word. 12 Monkeys would be filed under "T."

5. Link back to Blog Cabins in your post so that I can eventually type "alphabet meme" into Google and come up #1, then make a post where I declare that I am the King of Google.

6. If you're selected, you have to then select 5 more people.


And here's my list:

All About My Mother
Beauty and the Beast (Cocteau & Disney)
Cabaret
Dark Victory
The Eyes of Tammy Faye
Foul Play
The Gleaners
Hannah & Her Sisters
Ich Bin Meine Eigene Frau (I Am My Own Wife)
Judy Berlin
Kramer vs. Kramer
The Last Picture Show
Manchurian Candidate
Nights of Cabiria
The Orphanage
Private Benjamin
Querelle
The Red Shoes
A Star is Born (54)
Torch Song Trilogy
Umbrellas of Cherbourg
The Vanishing (Dutch version)
The Way We Were
Xanadu
Yossi & Jagger
Zus & Zo


So I tag Manhatin, moroccomole , zombiestruckstop, Mattycub, and Buck

Milk

I saw Milk last night.

I am so glad it's happening now. I imagine I'd have issues with it as a movie if I were to think too long about it--pacing maybe, standard bio pic, etc--all things I've heard.

But I don't really care. Penn is amazing, amazing, and the story is the story that needs to be told right now. The screenwriter said he focussed on the politics, since there were so many stories about his life and relationships he could have focussed on, and that's 100% correct.

Milk is not perfect, as the man wasn't--he comes across as over-zealous, political, selfish at times, but funny, sweet, caring, and naive as well. But I can think of no film I have ever seen being released at exactly the right moment. Someone suggested in the audience that perhaps the film would've made a difference before the Prop 8 vote, but I think the opposite. I think the people who would have seen it then would've been a much smaller audience who would have left thinking the same as they came in. I think people in the streets and the fury directed at the vote will help more people to see it, and more people will be affected by this story of an ordinary man working in his community to make a difference--perhaps even change some minds (yes--I'm optomistic enough to believe people can change their minds). And that one voice, asking everyone to come out, is still resonating today. And 30 years later the entire landscape has changed.

I was thrilled sitting in the audience. Thrilled, and energized. I don't know what I thought of it as a film, per se, but it struck a deep chord. To me, seeing an oscar winning actor playing a real gay man, a gay man who has ideas, opinions, flaws, and complicated, nuanced relationships with other men with no apology is thrilling. As are Diego Luna, Emile Hirsch (who I couldn't place throughout the entire film he disappeared so much for me), James Franco, Denis O'Hare, Josh Brolin so many of the actors. I wouldn't be surprised if Penn, Brolin, and even possibly Luna (but that's a long shot) get noms. The design perfectly captures SF at the time--they actually filmed in the storefront that was Milk's camera store. And the inclusion of historical footage works perfectly.

I have heard some criticism from gay men that they felt the movie is made for straight people, like Philadelphia was. I can't disagree more. I didn't feel pandered to, instructed, or bored. I felt excited, emotional, and amazed. This man was all about equality. I feel like this film, for the first time in a mainstream HOllywood film, put gays on equal footing. Being gay isn't the issue in this film (see Brokeback Mountain, which is a great film), but rather what it takes to be yourself, and demand equality, the risks and the rewards.

So you'll excuse me if I don't write about it as a film as much as about it as a moment. That I could sit in a room full of all kinds of people, holding another man's hand, and see how far we've come--that's beautiful. That there were at least three out gay actors in it, a gay director, gay screenwriter, and producers--brilliant. I can't see it any other way.

Go.

Smackdown '76

Check out my opinions along with all the others at the Stinkylulu 1976 Supporting Actress Smackdown.

Jane Alexander in All the President's Men
Beatrice Straight in Network
Piper Laurie in Carrie
Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver
Lee Grant in Voyage of the Damned

I have some thoughts about the year in general, and have been thinking about politics, disillusionment (elections figure into two of these, and it's an interesting 70s theme) and discontent, but I have a cold today so any thoughts would be muddy. Or, muddier than usual. Interesting year, though......

Getty

I went to the Getty to see the beautiful Bernini show that was overwhelming and gorgeous. I hope to get a few secs to write about it this weekend, but in the meantime--



Getty, get your *$(&%(#*&$#ing thumb out of my view!!!



Muuuuch better....

Happiness is just a thing....

I watched Cabin in the Sky last night for Nathaniel's Musical of the Month over at Film Experience. Here are the major themes, not including all the race stuff, which could be a whole 'nother book, and probably is. There's even a disclaimer at the opening of the film, which, as Nathan Rabin points out, basically says"The racism in the film you are about to see is morally abhorrent and wholly unforgivable. Enjoy!" Anyhoo, most of the things I noticed only were amplified by some sadness that some of the performers were relegated to roles based on their ethnicity, and weren't given a chance to stretch out of that (of course, that could be said for many film actors). Like I said, for more keen and informed minds than mine to ponder further.

Ethel Waters rules this movie. She's not the protagonist, but she's his motivation. She's also the most reliably nuanced, interesting, and full characterization in the film. Not surprising, as the story doesn't require much beyond stereotype. It made me a little sad, watching Waters, that she wasn't able to play some grand matriarch of a powerful family on film. I was thinking this through much of the film, and then when she hands Butterfly McQueen the dice and sweepstakes ticket and says "Burn these, Lily", I was sure of it. That said, she's riveting in this, and I don't really want to watch anyone else on screen when she's in the picture. And she had quite a career, which is a testament to her talent.

Happiness is Just a Thing Called Joe. I have loved this song forever, and didn't know this was the setting. I love, love, love this song. Her execution is great. It works perfectly as a motif, and justifies shy she does what she does. That said, if Iago is evil for no apparent reason, Petunia is the love version. It's no small credit that we believe the love for Joe on her part, because it's not like it makes any sense. This song does it for me (even though secretly it's Ella's version I love the best--even though this Sarah Vaughn version is pretty fab. And I do love the Carol Burnett version, too. So, I basically love this song, obviously).

Lena Horne's character, Gerogia Brown, doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense, either. But once again, she can't help but be, well, Lena Horne. I was most fascinated by the shot of her being the last standing during the tornado. There was something beautiful and emotionally affecting about her staggering about in that beautiful dress, and suddenly accessing a life in this character that we hadn't seen before. Once again, great performer. I mean, she's Lena Horne, after all. The scene with the devil telling her what to do was fun. Much mugging, but a good way to establish the communications of conscience that they were establishing. And since I had Tennessee on the brain earlier, wouldn't she have been astounding as Maggie in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof?

And then there are the devils. Apparently, jazz, trumpets, and smoking are all very evil, while good guys like to hang out in all -white band uniforms. I don't really have much to say about them (although it was fun seeing Louis Armstrong), except that if you're looking for a piece that combines Porgy and Bess and Damn Yankees, this one's for you.

As for the music, most of it felt weirdly incidental. As Stinkylulu pointed out the other day, it's really more of a play with music, and that makes it more understandable. Actually more of a parable with music. I did love that when for no apparent reason an entire chorus showed up for the "Cabin in the Sky" number, they sounded exactly like the back-up choruses for every musical in this period. Duke Ellington on screen is great, too.

And the whole thing can be excused, since it's only a dream.....

Glad I saw it. Great musical, no, but worth it for Waters and Horne and the chance to see them at the center. And to hear that great song by Harold Arlen, who is one of my faves of the period (Stormy Weather, The Man That Got Away, Acc-en-tuate the Positive, Over the Rainbow, A Sleepin' Bee, I never has seen snow, Right as Rain, I had myself a True Love, Anyplace I hang my hat is home, Get Happy, My Shining Hour), and also wrote several specifically all-black musicals. And also the to get to see the dancing and the Duke Ellington sequence. It doesn't move the story, but it's great to watch.

I suppose the disclaimer is right only insofar as the movie succeeds most for me as a time capsule--of attitudes, performance styles, and people. I'm glad Nathaniel picked it.

Strait-Jacket

10 Things I Learned from Strait-Jacketfor Final Girl's film club.

1. Wishing you're 29, acting like you're 29, and being shot with a gauzy filter still does not make you 29

2. Wishing you're 49, acting like you're 49, and being shot with a gauzy filter still does not make you 49.

3. Wigs are in, mother.

4. Lucky for Carol that her mother conveniently blacks out for no apparent reason. Or maybe it's just when she drinks. Or there's a MURDER!

5. Someone on the "making of" suggested Crawford would have gotten an oscar nomination if this were a different film. Yes, and a different script, character, and director

6. Even if you are a sculptor, oh, I mean sculptress, of non-descript, unfired clay forest creatures, it's possible to bust out a full polished bronze bust, just cuz. Oh, and some bloody heads. And a latex mask.

7. I love jangly bracelets, because they say "gal"

8. How cute was Lee Majors in 1963?

9. Apparently, Lucy had money from her first husband, but still lived in a one room shack where her daughter slept in the living room. That's livin'! And Ohio looks a lot like central CA.

10. Apparently, right before you're head is chopped off, it turns to wood. It's bloodless, too.

Okay, 11. Horror movie or Scooby Doo episode; you decide.

10 things I learned

I love learning. Truly, I just love knowing stuff. Not for the "look what I know" thing, but more for the shoving "isn't this AMAZING?" in unsuspecting person's faces, as well as my compulsive need to connect dots. Yes, the chaos of coming together and moving apart that is our lives is mirrored in the smallest atoms and all things in the universe, but I persist in pissing in the wind and calling it rain, searching for some sort of connection in seemingly random, unconnected events. It may be untrue, but learning and seeing similarities just makes me feel better. So, in that spirit, I can write a little criticism under the guise of bettering myself.

10 Things I Learned from 9 to 5, the musical

1. Dolly Parton's songs are particularly well suited to theatre. They're from a character's POV most of the time, and emotionally grounded. That said, when she's writing for her surrogate self, she's at her clearest, witness "Backwoods Barbie". Though there was a good second act ballad and Ros had a really fun number. But, after seeing this, Dolly can do anything you ask her to. I expect a symphony and retail park soon.

2. I forgot how much I loved this movie, which leads me to

3. Adapting a really well-known movie requires performances so great or different they erase the originals. You know it when you think to yourself while Allison Janney is being her great self on stage "Wasn't Lily Tomlin so funny in this?"

4. Allison Janney can sell anything. She doesn't have the best voice, but she's out there doing it, and she commands the attention

5. Office interiors and corporate clothing circa 1980 are not anything I would choose to watch on stage. Even having now seen them once. Not such a pretty time. And office interiors are wierd as entertainment spaces--I felt the same about the Back to the Future ride, since you feel like you're at work watching a show. That said, who knew so much could be done with a copier?

6. I know first acts are supposed to be longer, but we should really not notice it being so....much....longer.

7. Marc Kudish is sexy. I believe I was aware of this, but I have now learned it.

8. Stephanie Block is now queen of power ballads and Megan Hilty deserves a great career, after this and Wicked. She's got a lot going for her.

9. Sometimes, when the enormous set leaves, the stage can feel very, very empty. Especially filled with the dancers who, because of the aforementioned ugly clothing, can remind one of the Carol Burnett show. Not bad, in some instances, but not really useful here.

10. A show in previews is in previews. That means it's a work in progress. Nice to see the progress.

What's moving me

A list of things that are moving me of late, that I will hopefully get around to writing about.

1. Man on Wire Brilliant doc about Phillip Petit, who walked on a tightrope between the World Trade Centers. Unexpected meditation on friendship, drive, beauty, creativity, as well as the best heist movie I've seen in a while

2. Fun Home Allison Bechdel's brilliant memoir of her father's death which manages to be about sexuality, gender, literature, families and difference. I've read it before, and since there was a cut-rate hardcover at my local bookstore I'm reading it again. Taking my breath away. It's like watching a film and reading the criticism at the same time, a tightrope act of its own.

House of Blue Leaves

And I guess that’s what this play is about more than anything else: humiliation. Everyone in the play is constantly being humiliated by their dreams, their loves, their wants, their best parts. People have criticized the play for being cruel or unfeeling.

I don’t think any play from the Oresteia on down has ever reached the cruelty of the smallest moments in our lives, what we have done to others, what others have done to us. I’m not interested so much in how people survive as in how they avoid humiliation. Chekhov says we must never humiliate one another, and I think avoiding humiliation is the core of tragedy and comedy and probably of our lives.

--John Guare, from the original program notes for The House of Blue Leaves, 1971, reprinted in the current production program

Saturday I saw a production of House Of Blue Leaves at the Mark Taper Forum. I really love this play and this production somehow fails it for me. I’m feeling pushed to write a little about the play itself, and perhaps why I respond to it; I think it’s a great American tragedy, writ small and comic. After all, the image of the title is a tree made of birds that fly away at a moments notice; a shade giving tree under which, if you remain long enough, you’ll be shit on and the leaves fly away to leave you exposed.

**If you don’t know the play, then be aware there are some major spoilers coming.**

It is 1965. The play concerns Artie, a zookeeper and would-be songwriter. A prologue has Artie playing a few of his songs, all about hope and love, but written in clunky, work-a-day rhyming prose. His biggest hope is the song “Where’s the Devil in Evelyn” with the chorus “Where’s the Devil in Evelyn/What’s it doing in Angela’s Eyes?”, which manages to be not quite clever and not quite comprehensible at the same time. After the prologue, Artie is greeted by Bunny, a downstairs neighbor with whom he is having an affair, waking him at 5 AM to see the Pope drive through Jackson Heights Queens. A door opens and we realize that Artie is already married, to the aptly named Bananas. They have a son, and Artie, with his dreams of song writing and a supportive mistress, plans to escape to Los Angeles and rekindle his friendship with a classmate, Billy, who has become a world famous director.

The plot is complicated, as befits a farce, with the son coming home from basic training to blow up the Pope, three nuns arriving to warm up and watch the Pontiff on television, the actress/fiancée of the director stopping by on her way to an ear operation in Australia, and, finally, after the actress’ demise from the bomb, the famous director himself arriving on the scene. And, in a seeming left turn, Bunny leaves with the director, and Artie strangles Bananas once they’re left alone.

Guare writes that the impetus for finishing the play was mixing Strindberg’s Dance of Death and Feydeau’s A Flea in Her Ear, tragedy with farce. The play is full of farcical elements: doors slamming, chases, explosions, characters running in and out at top speed, people singing for no reason. Underneath lies tragedy—Banana’s loss of sanity, Artie’s feeling of failure, their son’s failure in the army, and earlier to charm Billy into giving him a role as Huck Finn, the starlet’s hearing loss, the anger of the nuns at missing the pope.

I was aware in this production, as sometimes becomes apparent when the seams show a little more, just how challenging it is to make this play work extraordinarily well ( I have a whole theory of playwrighting that big risks mean big payoffs—see Williams, Chekhov, O’Neill—but it means the can be not so great if not done well). It’s certainly entertaining, and even a mediocre production will be that, but it to make it stun as a tragedy it needs to be seamless. Bananas is tragedy, Bunny is farce (with a name like Bunny Flingus, what else could she be), but scratch either one and there is a little of the other underneath. Artie, on the other hand, needs to straddle both sides. He desperately wants to be in a farce—fun, silliness, happy endings, but he’s stuck in a tragedy. And for this play to work, I think, those moments need to pop up to remind us what’s simmering under it all. The text is full of them; Artie says to Bunny “sometimes I miss you so much” more than once, and it’s those moments that strike at the heart, and prepare for what’s coming. His story about the asylum where he wants to commit Bananas includes a tree with beautiful blue leaves where she can watch the birds and be in nature, but the act that causes him to call the hospital to commit her is one of absolute sanity: she calls him on his lack of talent as a songwriter. She asks him to play “I love you so I keep dreaming”, a song he wrote years ago, and then immediately to play “White Christmas”. It’s the same tune. It’s cruel of her to do, and he answers with the cruelty of committing her. It’s a devastating moment.

Jane Kaczmarek (who went to Yale with Kate Burton—who knew?) would seem to be a great Bunny. She’s physically tall, with a big presence. Unfortunately, she screams through the role. She’s one level, and that level is strident. A lot of the jokes are lost, which is surprising considering her comedy background. Mostly, my throat hurt a bit watching her, and I was aware of her working very hard. Some of the fail safe jokes landed “Orion. The Irish constellation” never fails to get a laugh. But there wasn’t a connection. Even though I never saw her, I can only imagine how great Anne Meara must have been in the original, as I’m sure Stockard Channing was in the last Broadway revival. What they have, though, as actresses, is access to a deep well of feeling that underscores desperation and a drive to survive. Looked at another way, a single, loose woman who has had as many jobs as boyfriends, living alone in Queens in 1965--she’s holding on to Artie as her last big chance. There is also a cruelty and selfishness in the role evident when encouraging Artie to commit Bananas, and screaming that Bananas has poison fumes coming out of her. Though I got some need to keep everything afloat, it mostly came across as screaming. The entire role was performed in capital letters with no punctuation, mostly apparent in the opening monologue, which is peppered with character jokes that didn’t quite land. I’m sure she’s very capable, and I think she could’ve knocked this out of the park, but it seems like she only got the direction “faster, louder, funnier” and I don’t think that served her here.
*Side note: the production of A Chorus Line here was super fast as well, and I’m wondering if the new vogue is to rush through plays as quickly as possible, as if we don’t have the patience to sit through them. I’m seeing it a lot. There certainly is slowness and wallowing to watch out for, but we’ll be with it if it’s real. Clunk, clunk, off soap box*

John Pankow, perhaps best known for “Mad about You”, plays Artie. I liked his performance but I didn’t love it. I think it’s a hard role, definitely, and he’s good. I got the sadness, and the drive, the anger and frustration, and was touched by his missing the relationship with Bananas. Certainly, that’s the most frustrating and tragic part of the role. While still running after his dream (several times he yells “I’m too old to be a young talent”), he has to pick up the pieces of a lost relationship with a woman who has completely snapped. I think perhaps here, too, I was thinking of John Mahoney (and what Harold Gould must have been before him), an actor who can smile, sell you something, but underneath there is always something—sadness, menace, fear. I missed that. I think Pankow is a good actor, and he did a creditable job—I guess I just missed that extra flash each time it sank in what was happening in his life. And not like I need it illustrated, it’s just that since the whole play leads to a horrible act of violence as well as a possible psychic snap, I think flashes of what he is capable of earlier would’ve made a difference. We even hear it from his son—how difficult he is to live with. Since he’s a charmer that’s not a side he shows to everyone, perhaps only to his family. And it’s that we need to see bits of—not maniacal, just the feeling that would drive the act at the end. Once again, I think he has it in him, but it just wasn’t quite there.

Kate Burton does well by Bananas, I think. She gets some good laughs, and does what the role calls for most—allow us to care for her, but also question if she is sane or not. Sometimes she’s the most sane person in the play, and we are questioning Artie’s decision to commit her, and we see her ferocity and clarity when she calls him on his lack of talent; the next moment we are hearing about her standing in the snow for 12 hours or stopping to pick up Cardinal Spellman, Bo Hope, LBJ, and Jackie O who are all standing on different corners of 42nd street, and who she tries to push into her car. She calls them her friends, and says she knows more about them than herself. Once again, I would’ve loved to have seen Katherine Helmond in the original production, since women on the edge of sanity who also seem like the smartest in the room were her specialty. I did see Swoosie Kurtz in the PBS production of the revival, who is no slouch in that character department, either, and thought she was brilliant. Perhaps I keep thinking of that, too.

Whether Bananas is sane or not, and ultimately the feeling of what it would look like to live with a great love who now is someone else, haunts this play. Even larger, the idea of self, and who we are if we’re not famous—Jackie O, the Pope, Bob Hope, President Johnson, Cardinal Spellman, even Sandra Dee—constantly nags at the characters. The idea of fame is one that pushes everyone, and it’s perhaps what makes the play feel still topical, since our particular moment is even more obsessed with fame and being seen than people were in 1965. Billy, the famous director, finally arrives on the scene in the third act (or second part of Act II), and delivers the nail in the coffin—that Artie is who he makes movies for, and therefore needs to stay in his apartment in Queens, a zookeeper, married to Bananas, for Billy to keep working. Billy is played in this revival by Diedrich Bader, of Drew Carey fame. He’s funny, and he’s got a warm presence. Unfortunately, every line was delivered with quotes around it. It wasn’t a character, really, but someone the actor was making fun of. He is kind of a boob, but he does take himself seriously, and that’s what would make him even more ridiculous.

There are more people—the son with his one monologue, and the three nuns, as well as the starlet, Corinna Stroller, and I thought for the most part they were funny and capable. The play just rests for the most part, on the three main characters.

The final moment is difficult to pull off. Bananas comes up to Artie, telling him they’re alone again now, and it will be just the two of them. Artie’s dreams of going to Los Angeles to live with Billy have been destroyed, and Bunny is leaving with Billy. Bananas pretends she’s a dog, on all fours, whimpering to Artie and nudging his leg. He kisses her, and then begins to strangle her. She dies. He walks over the body, and we’re in the club we were in at the beginning, in a blue spot. It’s a Mama Rose moment; we’re witnessing a psychic break. The moment didn’t work for me in this revival—I had kind of forgotten that it was happening before it did, and it felt out of left field. Once again, I think I’ll put this on the director. It felt like it needed a few more distinct moments. Artie kisses Bananas deeply, and then starts to strangle her. If I remember, the other versions I saw she realizes what he’s doing, grabs his hands, struggles and then dies. In this version it was muddy. The people behind us asked if he strangled her. I think by choosing to have the strangulation happen on the floor rather than with the two of them both on their knees, the tension dissipated. (And with the audience above at the Taper, seeing Burton’s white knee pads when she was laying on the floor didn’t help). Also, that moment of realization on her part makes it tragedy. I once had a professor say that the difference between tragedy and comedy is the realization-- if you get hit by a bus it’s pathetic; if you look up and say “oh my god, I’m going to get hit by a bus” it’s tragic. Bananas needs that moment. And we need to see Artie see it as well. By muddying it up, the payoff for the whole piece, the sadness and the loss, the reality of their marriage, his psychic break was obscured. I found myself reacting to an ending that didn’t happen. I found it emotionally devastating how it must have been for him to live with a woman who was gone. To have to say to her “I miss you so much” and not have her register. All Artie wanted was to be seen. The tragedy was the loss of the mind, and then his own killing, of the one woman who could.

I would still suggest seeing it. It’s a great play, and this production is certainly not bad. It’s worth seeing Kate Burton, and it’s worth seeing the show performed. And who knows? In theater things change. There will be some mellowing and growing, and by the beginning of October it could be a whole different play. I may have to go again.

Little Shop

So this month over at Film Experience the musical of the month is LIttle Shop of Horrors. I don't know what I have to add to what's already been said (I'm tardy here since I remembered only yesterday this was happening-oops), but a few observations on watching a wonderful musical that it was a please to revisit

I first saw this movie in High School (although below, it looks like college, actually), and loved it so much I actually dragged my collegiate self all the way over to Coors Blvd way on the other side of town (and trust me, in Albuquerque, this was a hike) to see this movie. And I remember loving every minute of it. I bought the cast album with the fold in the center and pictures, cherishing every production photo. And it was kinda big in the high school scene--perhaps with anticipation (see corrected timeline below), with one of the high schools actually doing a performance of the play immediately after the movie was released (more on that later). But safe to say I loved it, and was sad it was not as enormous a hit that my high school self was convinced it would be, if only everyone saw it. And here's what I noticed this time:

Frank Oz--what a perfect choice for a director. Not only did his puppet work prepare him, but his general muppet sensibility allowed him to straddle the line of seriousness and silliness that the piece requires. You're drawn in, wondering what will happen in a horror sense, all the while being entertained and surprised. My favorite touch are the muppet "pop-ins", odd people popping in from outside the frame to sing one line unexpectedly (most notable in "Downtown" and "Meek shall inherit"). "Downtown" itself I think is the only time an entire town sings the requisite "yearning" song about wanting a different life. Menken and Ashman perfected this with "Somewhere That's Green" and "Part of Your World" from Little Mermaid (which are the same song; hum the meoldy of those words. See?) His work is especially evident in his use of the urchins, who pop up in almost every number, giving a cohesion and through line while maintaining the light touch and the awareness that we're watching a story. I love the urchins, which brings me to

The Urchins--Truly, I love them. And I love that two of them have had major TV careers since the movie. But mostly I love that they don't get wet in the rain, they sparkle menacingly in "Suppertime" (which is brilliant in its build of suspense), they're great as dental assistants, Chinese flower girls, balcony singer, and West Side Story roof dancers. I love that Tisha Campbell throws in a little Diana Ross face in the opening. Basically, I would watch a movie about the Urchins. Maybe a high school musical. Hmmm....

Celebrity Cameos--Tichina Arnold and Tisha Campbell, there's Christopher Guest, Miriam Margolyes, John Candy, Vincent Gardenia (hardly a cameo, but wonderful to be reminded how much you loved a performer who's gone), Jim Belushi, and, of course, the brilliant Bill Murray in the role originated in the Roger Corman film by Jack Nicholson. He just cracked me up. And it's the only slightly homo moment in the film. Christopher Guest, too, was stiffly perfect and made me laugh. And he's not a cameo at all, but Levi Stubbs gives an astounding vocal performance in this. The puppet's great, but his voicing of it makes the movie work.

Ellen Greene--Nathaniel talks about what a brilliance it was to cast her, and I agree. Beyond that, she's put such a stamp on the role that I don't think she could be played much differently. For better or worse, sometimes film adaptations make different stage interpretations no longer possible (though it's negligible that this character has a very wide range of interpretations in the first place), but Greene's characterization is so strong you can't imagine caring about seeing anyone else in it. Ever. Kind of like an actress whose name rhymes with Schmarbra Schmeisand in a movie about a singing comedienne. You may remember that one. That HS production I mentioned earlier is a great example. Coming on the heels of the movie, each actor basically did what the on-screen version did. Not surprising really, but it does show what an impression films can make on further productions of the musical. Or even that there are future productions of the musical.

I had some other thoughts on race and the voicing of the plant, and possibly unintended implications that has, where it's set, and alternate readings of the whole story, but for the most part I just delighted in it. After all, it's supposed to be delightful, and it is. It was one of the first musicals that acknowledged it was a musical, (Jim Belushi's character asks Seymour and Audrey to stop singing and listen to him), and remains as smart as it was then in playing with genre while still telling a great story. What's not to love?

Calamity Jane

Here's my contribution to musical month over at the film experience:

Oh, Calamity Jane, you’re such a rascal. You make no sense at all, but you’re a rollicking good old time.

I was struck by a few things watching this piffle of a production, so there’s a lot to think about, mostly gender and the 1950s, but let’s face it: this entire proposition would sink to the bottom of an old metal tub faster than you can say “Annie Get your Gun” ripoff if it weren’t for the irresistible charms of Doris Day. About two-thirds of the way through, selling yet another inane song, I thought, “She just cannot help but be charming”. So thank you Doris, you’re the reason this movie works at all.

The plot, which you can see coming like a squawl on the South Dakota plains, goes something like this (along with some gratuitous asides by yours truly)—Calamity (or Calam as her friends inexplicably like to call her—mellifluously) Jane is a rascally man-dressing teller of tall tales. She’s tough, rough, and wields a mean shot. And she sings the opening song about where we are and who everyone is, straight atcha! Who is she singing to? Doesn’t everyone in town already know who everyone else is? (Here’s where you say to yourself, “It doesn’t need to make sense, it’s a MUSICAL!”) Soon we figure out that she’s in love with a Lieutenant and will do anything for him, but her man-buddy/nemesis is Wild Bill Hickock (played by Howard Keel—doing basically the same thing he did in “Annie Get Your Gun”, though this time considerably less upstaged. Doris seems to be a more generous performer than Betty Hutton). Calam finds out that two geezers have been attacked by Indians, and have left the Lieutenant of Love for dead. Our heroine rides out alone, scaring the four Indians with a shot and stealing back her love. (“It doesn’t need to make sense, it’s a MUSICAL!”) Then she comes back to the saloon and blows her tale out of proportion, again, noticed by Bill Hickock, of course.

Meanwhile, back stage, the owner of the saloon has employed an actor who he thinks is an actress (because his name is Francis-har har) to perform, and forces him to go on in cringeworthy drag, which, of course, he warms up to. Calam figures out he’s not a man, and the audience does as well, and as they all are upset and are all men they somehow politely just start to walk out—no one is getting hurt except the Saloon owner’s business, so Calam manages to rouse the crowd with her can-do attitude, gruff voice, and man-pants. She volunteers to bring the actress they’re all yearning for to Deadwood to perform. So she departs for “Chicaggy”—yes, Chicaggy – to find the famous Adelaid Adams and make her perform. And if she does, Bill will dress up as a squaw with a baby –harhar. Through a series of (surprise!) mishaps she engages the famous actress’ maid to perform. So the maid (Katie) comes to town, Bill dresses as a squaw (ouch--somehow with a crying child and entire native entourage) and the maid goes on, recognized by the actor previously engaged, and falters, singing and dancing badly. The men boo and she admits she isn’t Adelaide Adams. Apparently, though they seemingly wanted to see the famous actress from her picture, they are actually upset by the performance since they really wanted to hear her sing. That’s what men with virtually no women in their company stranded out on the plains wanted from a woman wearing barely any clothes: a song.( “It doesn’t need to make sense, it’s a MUSICAL!”) They give the girl another try after Bill comes to Calam’s aid. She’s charming, she’s got a cute voice and she can suddenly sing and dance (!) , relieved of the burden of conscience. And plot.
Everyone loves her, Calam saves the day, and our heroine even invites the girl, (Katie Brown) to live with her in her cabin.

Cut to the cabin, which is so rough the raccoons would be packing their bags. Katie, though, helps Calam clean up with an inane song about “A Woman’s Touch”, which even includes the line “The pies and cakes/a woman bakes”. And of course, in true Hollywood style, there is paint on the walls, glass in the windows, and curtains, a fire, lamps, and even the two names on the door together, proclaiming in script “Calam and Katie’s place” by the end of the song. Calam even puts on a dress, and as soon as that happens, Day starts to sing in Lady Voice—the Doris Day we’re all used to, as opposed to the gruff chewing the scenery voice we’ve heard before. In fact, most of the movie the rule is man pants=gruff voice and dress=lady voice. After all, Calam has never seen a woman like Katie, or seemingly a woman at all (even though they pop up now and again in Deadwood, like dead wood, when they’re needed in dances). From the plot, you’d think Calamity had never seen a woman in her entire life, thought she does offer cloth to one at the beginning. Perhaps they are cloistered away to sew, only allowed out to buy cloth before retiring to their warrens. ( “It doesn’t need to make sense, it’s a MUSICAL!”)

But all is not well in paradise. Both of the men want Katie. I’m not going to get into here, but basically Calam shows up at a dance (on the way to which everyone sings about The Black Hills—Indian country that I love), everyone is surprised, shocked, and thrilled. Then the lieutenant kisses Katie and it’s on! Calam shoots at Katie, using her gruff man voice while wearing a lady dress. The world is upside down! She is hurt, she is betrayed. She even goes throws Katie out, and threatens her on stage. Katie shoots at her, and Calam leaves. Bill follows, and of course, kisses her. And then they immediately are in love, since they supposedly were all the time. (“It doesn’t need to make sense, it’s a MUSICAL!”) Day then gets to sing “Secret Love” in man pants and lady voice (though now her man-pants are form-fitting lady pants, so they make her feel silky, I guess, and sing like a woman). I thought about how different the song would’ve been if Mercedes McCambridge was singing it dressed like she was in Johnny Guitar, but that lesbian moment is not to be, even though the song is rife with homo-tones. Anyhow, Calam is so happy, but arrives to find Katie has left since the last thing she wanted to do was hurt Calam. Oh no! Calam gallops off, brings Katie back, and there’s a double wedding, where Calam wears a really silky white dress. But in the end, she gets her man, pants, a horse and a gun and her lady-voice all at once! And she gets to drive the stage while they all go off to ? ( “It doesn’t need to make sense, it’s a MUSICAL!”) All’s right with the world.

Outfest part 1

Saw some movies this weekend at Outfest, and here are my thoughts:

Friday night I went to see Saturn in Opposition at the recommendation of a friend, and I really enjoyed it. In light of recent events, I don’t know that I would have seen it if I had known that one of the central characters has a freak brain hemorrhage as the inciting incident, but I’m glad I did. The actors were uniformly good, it was well shot, and it had that European way of having normal looking attractive people as the leads, rather than models from the planet SpaFinish who happened to alight on this planet with perfect hair at all times. And they live in a Roman apartment that seemed manageable. There was a summer house involved, so got some jollies on the real estate front. A little Big Chill-ish, but ultimately enjoyable and bittersweet with memorable performances. Wistful in the same way that Steam, his earlier feature, was with a strong sense of loss and place.

Saturday started off with a documentary on Samuel Delaney, the prolific black gay writer called The Polymath, or the Life and Opinions of Samuel R. Delaney, Gentleman. He wrote Sci Fi for much of his career, but has also written a lot about sex, public sex and personal relations. I think the only thing I’ve read of his is “Blood and Wine” about his meeting a homeless man who eventually became (and still is) his partner. Being relatively unfamiliar with the rest of his story and his work left me open to experience this without preconceptions.
The filmmaker, Fred Barney Taylor, uses old movies, photographs, DV, and his own images to create a portrait of Delaney that is as tangential as his fiction supposedly is. Here was a great opportunity to talk to the filmmaker about his goals with the film (which he bristled at being called a documentary). Delaney is certainly an interesting subject, and as a companion piece with the Keith Haring doc I saw later in the day (which was much more conventional) this film was enlightening on gay sex in the pre-AIDS era, as well as two artists whose desires seem to be only to create and have sex. In fact, speaking later to some people who saw it they said the lesbians they’ve known who’ve seen it were turned off by Delaney’s frank sex talk, and that he had so much sex while married in the early sixties (according to him about 10 partners a day). This while writing and publishing 5 books in the space of 3 years. You certainly get an idea of his energy.
The filmmaker juxtaposed clips of the family (e.g. Father’s Day 1952) amongst talks of sex, the trucks in the village, and explanations of sex spaces in the 60s and 70s. I was actually a little put off, as I found none of the juxtapositions to be enlightening to any other clip around it. Usually, I prefer those kinds of moments to force me to look at something in a new light, but mostly this came off to me as jumbled and confusing. You definitely get a sense of his intelligence, curiosity and loquaciousness, and in some ways I was reminded of reading Before Night Falls, where you have the impression that all Arenas really wants to do is write and screw. And Delaney says as much in the beginning, I think calling himself a “boring old fag” who just sees himself as a vehicle for writing. You get a good deal of history, though, and some fascinating ideas. The two most interesting to me were his idea of the violence of transition, and the nature of reality as shifting brought up in an installation by a Scandinavian artist with text from his book Dahlgren. In it, the shifting space makes for a constantly changing landscape, calling to mind for me a production of Vanya that a friend of mine was in once where the walls of the house kept shifting so the characters never knew where they were.
I think the filmmaker was trying to be illustrative of this in his conctruction of the movie, but as I said, it felt to me more confusing than illuminating. That could just be my bias—I understand the idea of chaos as an end in and of itself, with any illumination an accident, but I don’t find it that compelling to watch. I think at base it’s an interesting movie, but the filmmaker felt like he was too close to the subject, and actually may have suffered by writing, directing, and editing it himself. I think an outside eye may have been helpful. He did say, though, that he wanted to make a piece of work rather than a doc, so in that sense that’s what he did. There are probably a few films that could’ve been made about this guy.

Later that afternoon I saw the Keith Haring documentary, the Universe of Keith Haring. This was much more of a standard bio pic. It was interesting, and apparent that he really was compelled to make art. There was certainly a joy in it and that’s obvious to watch. It also made me nostalgic for that 80’s time of creativity, while making me wonder if that’s the last time that people will do things like rent a space and have performance parties. It does feel like the internet has changed that. And certainly the lack of availability of space in NY means it’s much harder to just move there with a bunch of friends and start doing art. Aside from my nostalgia and cultural theorizing, it was a good doc, though full of strange gaps. Once he is diagnosed with AIDS, the interviews with his family kind of peter off, and there are a lot of threads started that are dropped-theomst glaring being a friend saying that Keith asked him to tell his family of his diagnosis for him, but no information (though they were all interviewed) on how that happened or was received. I did love the footage of him drawing on the subway walls spontaneously, bringing art just for the sake of it. And he seemed to only want to draw and have sex/fall in love with young latino men. That was interesting. Not so followed up, but fun to see, as was the footage of the Paradise Garage. And interesting to see his connection with Warhol, as he was certainly the most likely follow up to Pop Art, which was the name of his store.
And I did learn that Yoko Ono can talk to the dead, and Keith told her what to do with his ashes. I love that. Weird to remember all that performance stuff, that I came in on the way tail end of. Weird how much has changed in a short amount of time, if only in the way people gather and communicate

On Saturday night I saw Ma Saison Super 8, which was not so super. It concerns a group of students focusing on getting the first gay/lesbian/feminist student organizations started in France around the time of the May 68 protests and the time following. The revolutionaries (big surpise) don’t have much support for them, neither do the police. The story centers on one boy, his roommate and their assorted romances. Heterosexual normalcy and gay solitude win sway in the end, as they always do. Much typing in underwear as I guess the French love to do (see “Before I Forget”) I didn’t really have any issue with the story, it was more the actual film itself. The film starts out with Super 8 clips introducing each section, which, if I remember correctly, kind of goes away as the film goes on. The super 8 morphs into video, which was the distraction. The orange lighting and quality of the tape made me feel like I was watching a tele-play from 1974. So though the story might have held some interest aside from pacing issues, the actual tape made me feel like I was watching actors, so I never lost myself in it. I remember watching “Uncommon Woman and Others” taped circa 1977 for PBS. I knew it was a play, but otherwise credible actors like Swoosie Kurtz and Jill Eikenberry looked horribly “acty” and Meryl Streep was the only one to come off looking good—this was like that. So the whole thing felt like I was watching an episode of “Alice” or “Barney Miller” projected. The actors were fine I think, and both the young girl and young boy had compelling moments, but otherwise it was a bit of a slog. I thought it was about two hours long, only to emerge from the theatre and see that the movie was 75 minutes. But if you love May 1968 films, add this to your list.

On Sunday I started the day with Before I Forget. It concerns an aging 60 year old hustler who is a writer, waiting for his inheritance from his Sugar Daddy. The action concerns mostly his smoking a lot, and writing, once in a t-shirt with no briefs, smoking some more, intent on pages of writing we never see. Then he goes to friends and complains, has younger hustlers or grocery boys over for embarrassing scenes of commercial sex, and smokes some more. He meets another hustler who just got out for prison, talks about Roland Barthes and public toilets, and smokes some more. I was thinking perhaps the movie exists to inspire a sense of ennui in the viewer, which it certainly does. I had no idea that Nolot was actually a hustler/gigolo/kept in real life, knew Roland Barthes, and wrote and directed as well as starred in this. No one finds his own neurosis more interesting than a narcissist with a camera. I don't know if this is true, but the rumor makes the choice of making the film make more sense. So we get to see him in all his imagined/real decrepitude living his life and worrying about money and sex. And it’s the kind of film where an elderly lawyer wants to blow a client in exchange for services (no pun intended) while his wife waits in the next room. It’s a page out of Genet, but told by Edward Hopper. Maybe he’s like the Vincent Gallo of France or something, and the movie had a slight emotional impact, but to me it was a long anti-smoking PSA. There were a few moments of excitement and action, but just long stretches of boredom. I get that life can be like that, but I don’t need to watch it, really. On the other hand, it is nice to see something besides young characters coming out on screen, though I'm not sure this narrative is what I would've asked for under my tree at Christmas.

And on Sunday night Hamlet 2 just rocked. It’s offensive-ish, but just funny. Steve Coogan is great, and Catherine Keener is perfect, hysterical with underpinning of real feeling and character. Amy Poehler is great, the musical numbers cracked me up, and the kids are a hoot. I’ll see it again.

Yay film festivals!

Supporting Actress Smackdown 1939

So, for the legendary year, we look at the Supporting Actresses from legendary (and not so legendary) pictures. I'll start with the not so first. SL's post goes up first thing Sunday....

Edna May Oliver in Drums Along the Mohawk

First let me say I am not a colonial history fan. This movie does not encourage me very much. It's a mess of tone, but what can be said of Oliver is that if anyone in the movie manages to find one, it's her. She's brash, she's bold. She's frontiersy. She's certainly the only interesting thing in the movie, but in this one that's not saying alot. Fonda is uninteresting--sounding still as if he came out of Nebraska 100 years before there was one to come out of, and Colbert doesn't do much, either, except whimper or shine. Oliver's performance, as a lot in this movie are, is broad. And even though I liked her the most, I really didn't care. But so glad there was an "hysterical house darkie" in this movie, too, for no apparent reason. Just goes to show we're watching movies from the '30s. Good times.

Maria Ouspenskaya in Love Affair

I was thoroughly charmed by this movie, and completely on the force of Irene Dunne, who I now realized the adjective "winning" must have been created for. She and Charles Boyer made me buy this thin little thread of a story. And they are helped along considerably by the warm presence of Ouspenskaya. Her relationship with Boyer feels real, as does her immediate understanding of the Dunne character. Is it the best thing ever? No, but it's a very capable, memorable performance in a movie that requires the plot hinge on it. I still remember her face falling as she says "I hate ships whistles". Warm, inviting performance in an old school charmer of a film

Geraldine Fitzgerald in Wuthering Heights

This movie is all about Olivier and Oberon, so anyone else just better get out of the way. Fitzgerald is servicable in a role that is there mostly to show how cruel Heathcliff and Cathy's love is. She's great in the one scene where she has to tell off Cathy, but it's a boomerang of a role, and for the most part unsurprising. I wasn't really interested in her trajectory, but probably because it was telegraphed before it happened

Hattie McDaniel in Gone With the Wind

I do love this performance, if only for what Hattie McDaniel manages to do with a part that was written as comic relief. Every action she does is done out of care, and it's that grounding that keeps any humor honest, and adds the extra depth of feeling that is not immediately obvious at all. She's not on screen alot, but when she is she's a proxy for what we're thinking a lot of the time, cutting through Scarlett's BS to what is good (and bad) about what she's doing. A deft performance in a role that could've been completely ridiculous.

Olivia deHavilland in Gone With the Wind

I love this performance as well, and suprised that I did. deHavilland makes Melanie's goodness inviting and not cloying, which is no small feat. In a part that could've easily been a self-righteous goody goody, deHavilland shows us a woman who underneath is trying to be the best self she can possibly be, and give everyone else that same credit. It's not a showy performance, which it could've fallen into as well, and also succeeds in having us never question why Scarlett would keep Melanie around. She makes Scarlett better, too.

All in all, it was a suprising year in hindsight. My list would more than likely not have included Fitzgerald or Oliver, though possibly Ouspenskaya. It's interesting that these movies are all templates for those that would come after--historical costume drama, epic, romance. So even though these may not have been my pics, perhaps they are most representative. I may have included Butterfly McQueen, though that role is much more disturbing than Hattie McDaniel's, and probably one of the most frustrating/annoying characters on film--GWTW does nothing half way. I might have added one of the women--Russell, Crawford--there's many to choose from. And maybe Margaret Hamilton in Oz. It's interesting looking at the year that it has more memorable lead performances (Garbo in Ninotchka anyone?), but not so many supporting that stand out for me immediately. And I do have to say that Leigh is brilliant in Gone With the Wind. I was truly blown away. I really do think it's one of the most perfect marriages to actress and character I've seen on film. We can't let 1939 go without saying that. And I still have HOURS of DVD extras to watch. Yippee...

Madeline Kahn appreciation day

Madeline Kahn appreciation day on Stinkylulu. Unfortunately, today has not left me a huge amount of time to blog, but I wanted to put down a few thoughts.

I was thinking about which movie to write on, and remembered I have What’s Up, Doc, which I have seen so many times it feels almost uneccessary to watch again. Eunice Burns. Madeline Kahn’s debut was (and is) spectacular. She controls the screen as Eunic, against some real comic heavyweights playing bizarre characters, among them Austin Pendleton and Kenneth Mars. In the midst of this, it’s Eunice we remember. Her being dragged out of the ballroom, her next to the wig that is styled to look exactly as her own hair would look in that style, and favorite line readings like “Those are Howard’s rocks.” Eunice manages, and by the end of the movie finds someone perfect to manage. It’s Kahn’s comedic sense of purpose that keeps the role so laser sharp. That voice! And even more I was realizing thinking about favorite roles of hers, her body.
She is all angles as Eunice, a big square trying to make herself look rounded. But as Trixie in Paper Moon she is all curves. Once again, she is laser sharp in her character, and aware of what Trixie has to offer. I can’t imagine anyone else in the role, but I certainly can’t imagine another actress summing up an entire character, her pathos, self knowledge, and place in the world with “Let Miss Trixie sit up front with her big tits.” Hysterical and heartbreaking, which was her specialty.
Mel Brooks used her to great effect several times, most notably with the back to back whammy of “Young Frankenstein” and “Blazing Saddles”. In one an uptight society matron that needs a surprise visit from a monster to bring her in touch with her sexuality, and in the other a sexual creature who thinks she knows it all and is surprised by love. Both of these roles are a hoot, but she brings a bit of class to the proceedings, using her voice and body to fill out, if you will, the characters. There are too many lines to quote here, but you probably know most of them yourself. Watching her hit Marty Feldman with her purse is worth the price of admission. I could go on and on if I had time, but for some many reasons, I think Madeline Kahn is one the top comedic film actresses ever.