Musicals to My Ears

An expansion of a previous post.

           

Musicals are in the air. Again. The recent news that Hugh Jackman is in talks to star in a purported musical adaptation of Les Miserables has us lowly bloggers ruminating on the musical renaissance that wasn’t this past decade. Circa 2001/2002 everyone was anticipating the rebirth of the musical genre but that’s where my issues with the perception towards musicals arise because I’m reticent to call the musical a film genre.                       

             

Okay, fine the word genre points to artistic compositions with similarity in style, form or subject matter and the concept of telling stories through music and lyrics make all musicals similar. But the concept of the musical being genre in that context is different from the concept of the word “drama” as a genre. Annie Hall, Bringing Up Baby and Sideways are all comedies. In terms of story, you expect them all to tell their story with humour as a significant tool. Now, ostensibly you’d say in the same way comedies use humour musicals use music but therein lies the crux of my problem. Humour makes you laugh, whether laugh uproariously or laugh and think – it’s rooted in laughter. Music is different; all music doesn’t elicit a single response which is why I think of musicals not as a genre but as a form. Let me explain.

                     

Musicals are like black-and-white films, or better yet silent movies. They all are made in the same way in that they look the same (for black-and-white) or “sound” the same (silent films) but you could tell gamut of stories through that single form. Musicals could vary from comedy (Singin’ in the Rain) to drama (New York, New York) to fantasy (Xanadu) or even pseudo-horror (The Rocky Horror Picture Show). I think the concept of musicals of the roaring twenties has sort of lulled us into this false belief of musicals being some sort of fantastical form of escapism, but for me I look to the Great White Way as veritable proof of the musical. The Tony’s divide their laurels in terms of musical and plays. And just like plays vary in genre, so do musicals. Maybe I am being unnecessarily fixated about this, but it always annoys me when the musical “genre” comes in for more criticism than necessary when people seem unwilling to realise that other than a story told through song a “musical” owes them nothing.

            

What do you think?

Encore’s Birthday Marathon: Day 18

CS had asked me which of Scorsese’s “periods” I prefer and I was reticent about pouncing unremitting faithfulness to the Scorsese/DiCaprio era. In theory I don’t think it’s his premier period but still I seem to have commitment to it. Regardless of whether or not it reveals poorness in my allegiance as a Scorsese supporter The Departed is my favourite of his films and The Aviator is probably the film of the last decade that I’ve dedicated most ink to. It’s as I’ve said before, 2004 was a watershed for me in terms of the movies and 2004 was all about The Aviator. But, more than that it was the beginning of the Scorsese love.

             

Periods is probably the best way to start the discussion on Scorsese. Both because Scorsese’s style – as continuous as it is – often seems to be divided systemically according to years. Then, the The Aviator (which is a great film for repeat viewings) does so many things with classical movie periods and camera use. I’m not overly pedantic about the expressly technical side of filmmaking, but Scorsese is the type of director who makes you appreciate the more meticulous aspect of the trade. It’s probably why the loudest of his naysayers always accuse him of brilliant segments, but a truncated whole. I’m almost always certain that they’re talking about Gangs of New York when they say that, but the truth is – they’re sometimes talking about The Aviator. I won’t re-re-review The Aviator, but I will say that the way in which Scorsese makes films insists on that fastidiousness which I suppose could come off to some as too much head and too little heart.

      

This is why I’m always surprised that The Age of Innocence, one of his best in my eyes, is so heavily glossed over or even excised from his 90s period. True, it’s meticulous in that sense of luminosity that the best of period pieces seem to retain but it’s also particularly organic and sincere. I don’t care to disprove or affirm the theory that Newland Archer, for all his ostensible quietness, is just as violent as the more notorious of Scorsese heroes – it’s debatable. What is significant, for me, is the dynamism of his talent which it reveals.

                         

I’ll admit, that as a staunch supporter I often wish that Scorsese would do (more) comedy. I’m abysmal, perhaps, but I’ve still not touched on After Hours. Even his most gritty dramas Scorsese has such a handle on humorous situations which he manages to deliver without compromising the tension. The one that springs out to be first is the entire first day of Francine and Jimmy in New York/New York. I’ve never seen either Minnelli or DeNiro as comfortable doing banter as they are there, in another oft forgotten Scorsese venture. On the note of first meetings, the one between Howard and Katharine in The Aviator drips (deliberately, I’d presume) with that Cukor-esque form of humour which is *vastly underrated*. Or how about the cranberry juice in The Departed?

                   

It’s not that The Aviator was the first Scorsese film I saw, but with all of the cinematic allusions of which it comprises it makes sense that it’d get me interested both in film and Scorsese. I’m still working my way through his filmography, and it’s a premature statement to make without having completed it. But, I’ve not seen a bad Scorsese film. Yet.

         

Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore B/B+

The Aviator A

Cape Fear B+

 Casino B+

The Departed A

Gangs of New York B+

GoodFellas A

The Last Temptation of Christ B+ 

Mean Streets B

New York / New York B+

Raging Bull A

Shutter Island B

Taxi Driver A-

            

Pick a favourite, or three. What’s your least favourite?

Encore’s Birthday Marathon: Day 8

More pre-birthday musings...

            

Whenever I’m asked which city I’d most like to inhabit I always say Paris. It’s just because I have a sort of obsessive attraction to everything French, even though my knowledge of the language remains sparse after years of school French (I’d probably be a fish out of water, a la Dave Sedaris in “Me Talk Pretty One Day”. As far as being a lover of all things artistic (heh) goes, though, I’d probably choose New York in a heartbeat. Jose was only recently fêting it (well, the Met actually), and with good reason.

 

As far as cinema goes Woody Allen seems to have the monopoly on the city. It probably makes sense because he exudes that sense of zany neuroses that people tend to think of the city with. Still, it’s not Woody who I turn to when I hear the name of the city – I turn to Liza, with Z, first. It’s not just because I’m a lover of Scorsese, I really do think that New York, New York is one of the best films of the seventies (and one of the best films to not receive an Oscar nomination). It has its moments of less than perfect scenes, but it’s an ultimately rewarding experience. For me, its themes effectively evoke that gritty realness tied with the sort of magical sheen that best encapsulates the city – larger than life, really. Plus, the film’s most iconic scene – as far as I’m concerned – is about a budding Broadway showgirl. And what else is as indicative of New York as The Great White Way 

                                                           

It’s not just cinema, though. New York is as much a location as it is a character in two of the greatest comedies of the nineties (and all time, probably) Friends and Sex and the City. Sex and the City in particular depends on that attractive but sometimes exasperating hubbub of the city (which is probably why the excursions away from it tend to fall flat). In truth, I can’t say I’d be interested in seeing New York for the tourists’ attractions. It’s like that Friends episode where Joey didn’t even know that the Met was a museum and not the singular of the Mets – the baseball team. If I do end up in New York I’d probably divide my time between the cinema and the theatre, or maybe I’d make time to do a Jane Fonda and go barefoot in the park.

                 

I don’t know. It’s a sort of perfect tourist’s paradise. I’m not a tourist at heart, but I still want to go.

 

Any New Yorkers reading?

March Bloodstones: Francine Evans in New York/New York

This is another entry in my month-long retrospective on female centred cinematic bravery.

            

I hadn’t initially planned on taking a look at Liza Minnelli’s work under Scorsese, but noticing that her birthday was today I started thinking of her career. She’s both over appreciated and underappreciated. Most everyone recalls her brilliant 1972 Sally Bowles, but because of the raw deal that New York/New York often gets in history it’s not as oft-remembered. I remember I reviewed it on a whim for a LAMB’s Director’s Chair on the great Scorsese and it still doesn’t crack my top 5 Scorsese’s – although that doesn’t say much, I love most of his work.

New York/New York is a simple musical tale of love lost and then found – in New York, no doubt and it endures as one of Scorsese’s biggest “flops”. This time around I’m less interested in defending its merit, yet again. I’m more interested in Francine’s plight. New York/New York has one of those openings that exudes iconicity (even if it’s probably never endured as such) and a prolonged conversation at a club between Francine and Jimmy (DeNiro) is as much preparation for their characters as you need. This is five years after Minnelli’s tour-de-force in Cabaret and the performance is permeated with a high level of maturity that’s palpable. At the sake of being repetitious, I must declare that the way in which Liza suggests her mother here is poignant – haunting even, but Scorsese steps back just enough to prevent the exercise from being exploitative.

It’s terribly easy to read any bloodstone tendencies in Francine as evident in her struggle with abuse from Jimmy. She is an abused woman, but what separates Jimmy from the slew of spousal abuse dramas on a certain network is its focus on character not aspect, Francine is not just an abused woman and Jimmy is not just an abuser. But, even though screenwriter Rauch tries to balance the story it’s difficult for DeNiro to compete with Liza when she’s at her near best. Even if I’ll flip-flop as to whether this is her best work I remain convinced that it’s the role that encapsulates her talents best. For all her beauty and talent, there’s such a subtle awkwardness to Liza that makes her performances all the more golden. I love that first scene where Jimmy’s auditioning terribly and Francine decides to start singing. That naiveté of her there, oddly juxtaposed with her talent is such a great illustration of her; and oh, how the camera – Scorsese that is – loves her.

As broken relationships tend to go, Liza gets her token scene of bravery when the two part ways – the first time around. For all its intensity New York/New York is consistently funny (sort of the opposite side to Annie Hall from the year; a funny look at a doomed relationship that is humorous with moments of lucid dramatic awareness), and watching a pregnant Francine have the argument of all arguments with her husband in a cramped car on a busy New York street is just one of the thing that ensures that Scorsesian nature of this piece – and, incidentally, ensures that Liza gets all the chances to be brilliant. It’s only two scenes later that the narrative splits and Francine breaks out on her own, personally and figurative. We get a flash-forward that’s so subtly done (evocative of the flash-forwards in The Aviator, now that I think of it) that’s centred on her performance of “But the World Goes Round” – one of her richest performances, of the film and otherwise.

This is a musical, and music is Liza’s niche and of course she nails those musical numbers. It’s Ebb and Kander, so I feel no guilt in saying that this sits in the top 3 numbers that merges singing and acting – something that, so often, goes out of the window in musicals. It’s the second half where she gets all those iconic numbers though – like that legendary extended number “Happy Days” (a brilliant mini-movie in itself) and, of course, “New York/New York”. Her musical success is paralleled against Jimmy's and that bittersweet end where she “leaves” him for the second time never fails to pierce, because as dysfunctional a relationship it is – it’s still theirs. Yet, even though that ending should more weight for DeNiro, who is so piercing in that final scene. That look on Francine’s face when we realise the decision she’s going to make is beautiful. Oh Liza, so often praised...and yet, so often not...

                 

Happy birthday, Liza.

             

previously: Deanie Loomis in Splendor in the Grass; Helen and Margaret Schlegel in Howards End

Anybody Can Do Anything, Especially Scorsese: The Musical

This entry is in celebration of the Martin Scorsese blog-a-thon hosted by LAMB. If God was a man he’d be Scorsese, so ummm, contribute and head over and check out the other entries tomorrow.

              

Scorsese is really diverse – even though we don’t always realise it. He’s known for his gritty crime dramas, but he does period, he does sports, he gets religious, he goes epic and even touches on foreign drama – and of course the musical. The story behind New York/New York is legend now. Released in 1977 a year after Taxi Driver, it was a flop and poorly received by critics and audiences and led Scorsese into a depression which eventually led to the now legendary Raging Bull. It’s one of those nice comeback stories, and we all love a comeback; but New York/New York has more worth than being a catalyst for that 1980 classic. If anything New York/New York is the proof that Scorsese can do anything. The film is a tribute to the Golden Age of musical as Scorsese creates an ode to the period, it’s not perfect but it’s splendid. It’s something that you can count on Scorsese for, though. He never skimps on the technicalities.

The story is slight. A wannabe starlet and musician form a relationship and the film chronicles their experiences. I’ve been one of the many to remark that Lars Von Trier likes to f*** with you (it’s why he’s not one for me). I will admit that Scorsese tends to do it every now and then two. We spend almost half an hour in what seems like a flawed Woody Allen comedy of sorts until Marty decides to start throwing wrenches at us. Liza Minnelli and Robert DeNiro – both Oscar winners already – star as the couple and they’re good together. I’m always more than slightly miffed that Liza is not as highly regarded as she should be. New York/New York isn’t a love story, but the chemistry between she and Robert shines brighter than even the most iconic of Marty’s romances. They’re excellent together, but it’s Minnelli of course who shines brighter. It’s a pity that the film has become forgotten, it’s probably the most dramatic work I’ve seen her do (yes, even more than Cabaret). She’s never looked (or sounded) more like her mother, but she’s also never been so tender. Minnelli is the proof of how acting in musicals is more than singing, she sells her speaking part as well as her singing, and her rendition of “But the World Goes Round” is a piercing moment of the film as is her performance of the eponymous theme song.

                

But this writeup is about Marty, and it’s as it should be. Because, really, when it’s all said and done he’s really the star of this piece. You wouldn’t believe it’s a Scorsese picture if you were just an incidental fan of his. The culmination of his talents (averse to his usual fare) occurs in a ten minute musical spectacle where Liza Minnelli (opposite Broadway star Larry Kert) transport – literally – to the world of old musicals. The colour, the costumes, the lighting the editing is all fantastic and it’s a shame that this film couldn’t have at least been remembered for its astounding technical proficiencies. 1977 was a good year for film – The Turning Point, Annie Hall, Julia, Star Wars, The Goodbye Girl and more. But it’s a pity that New York/New York got lost in the shovel. It’s not one of my favourite films, and sure it’s not Scorsese’s best. But I’ll stand by it, Scorsese never made a bad film [yet] – it’s not perfect but you’ll laugh, you might cry and you’ll sure as hell want to be a musician afterwards. Trust me, you’ll be entertained.

                      

....just take a look at this ten minutes spectacle...

          

and just because, here's another song from Liza...her mother's daughter...

          

No one does it like it Marty!