King Vidor's moving populist drama, The Crowd (1928) is showing on Nov. 1, followed by Chaplin's The Great Dictator (1940) on the 2nd and Chaplin's The Circus (1928) on the 3rd. When I first started going to the movies in the late sixties none of Chaplin's films were available except for The Gold Rush (1925), which had fallen into the public domain. The Circus was the first of Chaplin's films to be re-released in the seventies and gradually they all returned, even A Woman of Paris (1923), which Chaplin felt would be considered too "old-fashioned." Chaplin's Limelight (1953), a late and moving work, will be shown on Nov. 9.
John Ford is my favorite director, by far, and there is some of his best work on Turner in Nov. Mogambo (1953), an unusual Ford film that takes place in Africa, is showing on the 13th and My Darling Clementine (1946), which I wrote about on Feb.4, 2014, is showing on the 16th. Two more of Ford's films are showing in the Nov. 20 tribute to Maureen O'Hara: The Quiet Man (1952) and Wings of Eagles (1957).
Earlier this year I earned a Certificate of Completion in the TCM and Ball State University multimedia course Into The Darkness: Investigating Film Noir; there are several excellent examples of the genre in November. What some consider the definitive film noir, Jacques Tourneur's Out of the Past (1947) is showing on Nov. 5, as is Howard Hawks's To Have and Have Not (1944). On Nov. 7th is Joseph Losey's corrosive The Prowler, followed on the 8th by Raoul Walsh's White Heat (1949), more of a gangster film.
Other films on Turner this month include Anthony Mann's God's Little Acre (1958) on the 11th (I wrote about Erskine Caldwell's novel on Sept. 6 of this year), Jacques Demy's brightly-colored musical The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964) on the 13th, Rossellini's rigorous The Flowers of St. Francis (1950) on the 13th, Minnelli's dreamlike melodrama Some Came Running (1958) on the 23rd, Samuel Fuller's intensive geometric war film Merrill's Marauders (1962) on the 24th and the best screwball comedy, Howard Hawks's Bringing Up Baby (1938) on Nov 27.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Sunday, October 25, 2015
The World Series 2015
First of all, kudos to The New York Times and D. Francis Barry for the deliberately anachronistic- style report Oct. 23 on the Cubs/Mets playoff: Cubs Dreams Dashed in Loss to Metropolitans; Prayers of Wrigley Faithful Go Unanswered. The whole piece read as though it were taking place a hundred years ago, with references to the "Sisyphean Chicago Cubs," the Mets' "Bunyanesque first-sacker." and "the larcenous Curtis Granderson." There was even included an old-fashioned box score, listing at-bats, runs, hits, put-outs, and assists. It was an effective visual and written reminder of the history of baseball.
Now for the World Series between the Royals (who last won in 1985) and the Mets (1986). I think it will come down, as it often does, to pitching and how many innings can starters Harvey, deGrom, Syndergaard, and Matz go for the Mets, and the same for Volaquez, Cureto, Ventura and Young for the Royals. The Royals might have a slight edge in the bullpen of Wade Davis and Kelvin Herrera over Clippard and Familia but the Mets starters have been more consistent this post season and they also have Colon(and why isn't he getting a start?), Niese and Reed.
As for hitting, one hopes Cespedes can play for the Mets -- he is something of a sparkplug -- while the Royals are slightly at a disadvantage not being able to use a DH in Citifield. The Mets need Duda and Murphy to continue to hit, with perhaps a little more help from the rest of the starters. Meanwhile, the Royals have speed and consistent hitting throughout their line-up that needs to be stymied by consistent Mets pitching.
My prediction: an excellent World Series, with the Mets winning in seven games.
Now for the World Series between the Royals (who last won in 1985) and the Mets (1986). I think it will come down, as it often does, to pitching and how many innings can starters Harvey, deGrom, Syndergaard, and Matz go for the Mets, and the same for Volaquez, Cureto, Ventura and Young for the Royals. The Royals might have a slight edge in the bullpen of Wade Davis and Kelvin Herrera over Clippard and Familia but the Mets starters have been more consistent this post season and they also have Colon(and why isn't he getting a start?), Niese and Reed.
As for hitting, one hopes Cespedes can play for the Mets -- he is something of a sparkplug -- while the Royals are slightly at a disadvantage not being able to use a DH in Citifield. The Mets need Duda and Murphy to continue to hit, with perhaps a little more help from the rest of the starters. Meanwhile, the Royals have speed and consistent hitting throughout their line-up that needs to be stymied by consistent Mets pitching.
My prediction: an excellent World Series, with the Mets winning in seven games.
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Two Films by Frank Tashlin: The Alphabet Murders (1965) and Rock-A-Bye Baby (1958)
Most parodies are written out of admiration rather than contempt.
--Dwight MacDonald, Parodies: An Anthology (The Modern Library,1960).
The originality and power of Frank Tashlin resides in the fact that extremes, more diametrically opposed than ever before, touch us deeply.
--Roger Tailleur, (Frank Tashlin, Vineyard Press, 1973)
One can approve vulgarity in theory as a comment on vulgarity, but in practice all vulgarity is inseparable.
--Andrew Sarris on Frank Tashlin (The American Cinema, The University of Chicago Press, 1968)
I wrote about Frank Tashlin's The Disorderly Orderly on April 11, 2014. Most people today have never heard of Tashlin, even if they like Jerry Lewis, who credits Tashlin as an inspirational comic genius. In the 1980's Dan Talbot would sometimes show a double bill of Tashlin films, The Girl Can't Help It (1956) and Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter(1957) at The Metro, brilliant parodies of rock-and-roll and the advertising business, respectively; they always delighted audiences with their expressive style and inspired use of color and cinemascope. But the two films here came later and were little understood, as parodies of family life in the fifties (Rock-A-Bye Baby) and of Agatha Christie (The Alphabet Murders).
Rock-A-Bye Baby gives credit to Preston Sturges's The Miracle of Morgan's Creek (1944), but is as different from that film as the forties were from the fifties, though Tashlin does copy one shot from the earlier film: as Jerry Lewis looks at newborn babies and asks which is his and the nurse mouths "all of them" and Lewis freaks out, just as Eddie Bracken did in Sturges's film (in which there were six babies). Rock-A-Bye Baby substitutes a satire of fifties motherhood for Stuges's subtle Christ story; in the Tashlin story the father is known, having played mother to triplets that his sister-in-law left with him while she shot the film "White Virgin of the Nile." Throughout the film there are parodies of movie musical production numbers, TV addicts who buy everything advertised on TV, and even Jerry Lewis as a version of Bill Haley, complete with "Comets" in plaid sportcoats But throughout there is an affection for those who suffer from unrequited love as well as for an Italian barber who can sing opera and learns to appreciate his daughters' independent choices. There are a number of effective songs by Harry Warren and Sammy Cahn, particularly when Lewis and his future father-in-law are singing the triplets to sleep: "Dormi, Dormi, Dormi." Tashlin uses color beautifully, with an emphasis on blue for peace-and-quiet and red for excitement (Lewis wears a blue bathrobe when he sings the triplets to sleep and a red tie when he performs rock-and-roll), highlighted by a red and blue mailbox in the center of a scene, a mailbox that contains an important letter.
The Alphabet Murders was shot in London in 1965 and is an affectionate parody of the Agatha Christie book, with Tony Randall as Hercule Poirot. The film is shot in black-and-white, unusual for Tashlin at this point, and is more character-driven than most of Tashlin's film. Tony Randall appears as himself at the beginning, on a soundstage, telling us about the character he will be playing. I have never cared for Christie and never know who the murderer is when all the suspects are finally gathered in a room, so the confusing plot didn't bother me and I was happy to see that the murderer was somewhat obvious from the beginning . Tashlin continues in this film to parody Hitchcock (especially with the scenes on a train at the end) and the film noir, which he had previously done in It's Only Money (again with strange camera angles) as well as "swinging London" and the films of Fellini, with his use of Anita Ekberg from La Dolce Vita (1960). Ekberg is not used in the somewhat cartoonish way (Tashlin started with cartoons and animated films) that Tashlin had used Jayne Mansfield in the fifties, as Tashlin tried to take a new approach in the sixties, reaching a dead end with Doris Day movies and dying in 1972 at the age of 59.
--Dwight MacDonald, Parodies: An Anthology (The Modern Library,1960).
The originality and power of Frank Tashlin resides in the fact that extremes, more diametrically opposed than ever before, touch us deeply.
--Roger Tailleur, (Frank Tashlin, Vineyard Press, 1973)
One can approve vulgarity in theory as a comment on vulgarity, but in practice all vulgarity is inseparable.
--Andrew Sarris on Frank Tashlin (The American Cinema, The University of Chicago Press, 1968)
I wrote about Frank Tashlin's The Disorderly Orderly on April 11, 2014. Most people today have never heard of Tashlin, even if they like Jerry Lewis, who credits Tashlin as an inspirational comic genius. In the 1980's Dan Talbot would sometimes show a double bill of Tashlin films, The Girl Can't Help It (1956) and Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter(1957) at The Metro, brilliant parodies of rock-and-roll and the advertising business, respectively; they always delighted audiences with their expressive style and inspired use of color and cinemascope. But the two films here came later and were little understood, as parodies of family life in the fifties (Rock-A-Bye Baby) and of Agatha Christie (The Alphabet Murders).
Rock-A-Bye Baby gives credit to Preston Sturges's The Miracle of Morgan's Creek (1944), but is as different from that film as the forties were from the fifties, though Tashlin does copy one shot from the earlier film: as Jerry Lewis looks at newborn babies and asks which is his and the nurse mouths "all of them" and Lewis freaks out, just as Eddie Bracken did in Sturges's film (in which there were six babies). Rock-A-Bye Baby substitutes a satire of fifties motherhood for Stuges's subtle Christ story; in the Tashlin story the father is known, having played mother to triplets that his sister-in-law left with him while she shot the film "White Virgin of the Nile." Throughout the film there are parodies of movie musical production numbers, TV addicts who buy everything advertised on TV, and even Jerry Lewis as a version of Bill Haley, complete with "Comets" in plaid sportcoats But throughout there is an affection for those who suffer from unrequited love as well as for an Italian barber who can sing opera and learns to appreciate his daughters' independent choices. There are a number of effective songs by Harry Warren and Sammy Cahn, particularly when Lewis and his future father-in-law are singing the triplets to sleep: "Dormi, Dormi, Dormi." Tashlin uses color beautifully, with an emphasis on blue for peace-and-quiet and red for excitement (Lewis wears a blue bathrobe when he sings the triplets to sleep and a red tie when he performs rock-and-roll), highlighted by a red and blue mailbox in the center of a scene, a mailbox that contains an important letter.
The Alphabet Murders was shot in London in 1965 and is an affectionate parody of the Agatha Christie book, with Tony Randall as Hercule Poirot. The film is shot in black-and-white, unusual for Tashlin at this point, and is more character-driven than most of Tashlin's film. Tony Randall appears as himself at the beginning, on a soundstage, telling us about the character he will be playing. I have never cared for Christie and never know who the murderer is when all the suspects are finally gathered in a room, so the confusing plot didn't bother me and I was happy to see that the murderer was somewhat obvious from the beginning . Tashlin continues in this film to parody Hitchcock (especially with the scenes on a train at the end) and the film noir, which he had previously done in It's Only Money (again with strange camera angles) as well as "swinging London" and the films of Fellini, with his use of Anita Ekberg from La Dolce Vita (1960). Ekberg is not used in the somewhat cartoonish way (Tashlin started with cartoons and animated films) that Tashlin had used Jayne Mansfield in the fifties, as Tashlin tried to take a new approach in the sixties, reaching a dead end with Doris Day movies and dying in 1972 at the age of 59.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
The Glory of Their Times by Lawrence S. Ritter
If you liked Dan Barry's article in Sunday's Times about the game between the New York Giants and the Chicago Cubs in 1908, the game with Fred Merkle's famous "bonehead" play, I highly recommend Lawrence Ritter's book, subtitled The Story of the Early Days of Baseball Told by the Men Who Played It. The book was published in 1966 by Collier Books and includes stories told by twenty-two players who played between 1898 and 1945. Among the players included are two who were there for the historic game between the Cubs and the New York Giants on Sept. 23. 1908. Both Fred Snodgrass and Al Bridwell were with the Giants that day, Snodgrass on the bench as the third-string catcher and Bridwell the batter who got the hit that set off the whole Merkle incident, when Merkle failed to touch second as the apparent winning run scored from third with two out in the bottom of the ninth. Snodgrass explains how at the end of a game in the Polo Grounds the ushers would open the gates and the fans would run onto the field, which is why Merkle took off for the clubhouse instead of touching second base. Johnny Evers of the Cubs gets the credit for retrieving the ball (it's still disputed whether it was the original ball) and tagging second in the middle of the chaos. Snodgrass, Bridwell and the other Giants never blamed Merkle; they lost five games after the Merkle incident and if they had won just one of those they would not have had to play the game over. Bridwell says he wishes he had struck out on that September day, "it would have spared Fred a lot of unfair humiliation."
The Mets are now up two games to none over the Cubs, thanks to Daniel Murphy going first to third on a walk in the final game with the Dodgers and the excellent Mets pitching. But one can't forget either 1969, when the Cubs swooned in Sept., allowing the Mets to win the pennant (could the Mets swoon this time?), or 2004, when the Yankees were up three games to none over the Red Sox and ended up losing four in a row. One of the many beautiful things about baseball is its unpredictability, with small things sometimes making a big difference.
The Mets are now up two games to none over the Cubs, thanks to Daniel Murphy going first to third on a walk in the final game with the Dodgers and the excellent Mets pitching. But one can't forget either 1969, when the Cubs swooned in Sept., allowing the Mets to win the pennant (could the Mets swoon this time?), or 2004, when the Yankees were up three games to none over the Red Sox and ended up losing four in a row. One of the many beautiful things about baseball is its unpredictability, with small things sometimes making a big difference.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Joseph H. Lewis's A Lawless Street, 1955
"A superior Western which Lewis directs with real flair," says Phil Hardy about A Lawless Street (The Western, William Morrow, 1983). Lewis is best known for his crime film Gun Crazy (1950), a film that captures some of the madness of America, but also did some excellent low-budget Westerns. A Lawless Street was produced by Harry Joe Brown, who followed it with intense and austere Randolph Scott Westerns directed by Budd Boetticher. It has an impressive epigrammatic script ("a man's tongue is like a shovel, it can dig his grave") by Kenneth Gamet, low-key performances by Randolph Scott as the sheriff and Angela Lansbury as the woman he loves who leaves him because of his violence, but returns to him after he cleans up the town of Medicine Bend. The cinematography is by Ray Renahan, whose sensitive use of color goes back to John Ford's Drums Along the Mohawk (1939).
A Lawless Street begins with a solitary man riding into an empty town to shoot the sheriff, paid (as we find out later) by the business interests of Medicine Bend who are trying to make the town wide-open. When Scott kills the hired assassin in self-defense the business interests bring in a professional gunman who demands a third of the town's profits, after the businessmen offer him too much over the going rate. Meanwhile Angela Lansbury comes to town to perform, not knowing that Scott, who she married two years before, is there trying to clean up the town. The gunman thinks he has killed Scott but the doctor rescues Scott and he rises, Christ-like, to chase the money interests out of town. There are several sub-plots and Lansbury sings a saucy song about how her mother told her not to marry (before we learn that she is married to Scott). Lewis has an impressive way of visualizing plot elements, e.g., the way he has a rancher, the rancher's wife, and the man with whom the wife was having an affair arranged in a visual triangle as the truth is revealed.
In the end Scott convinces Lansbury that times are changing and that this is the last town, of many, that he has to clean up. Scott and Lansbury ride off together; Scott leaves his gun behind
A Lawless Street begins with a solitary man riding into an empty town to shoot the sheriff, paid (as we find out later) by the business interests of Medicine Bend who are trying to make the town wide-open. When Scott kills the hired assassin in self-defense the business interests bring in a professional gunman who demands a third of the town's profits, after the businessmen offer him too much over the going rate. Meanwhile Angela Lansbury comes to town to perform, not knowing that Scott, who she married two years before, is there trying to clean up the town. The gunman thinks he has killed Scott but the doctor rescues Scott and he rises, Christ-like, to chase the money interests out of town. There are several sub-plots and Lansbury sings a saucy song about how her mother told her not to marry (before we learn that she is married to Scott). Lewis has an impressive way of visualizing plot elements, e.g., the way he has a rancher, the rancher's wife, and the man with whom the wife was having an affair arranged in a visual triangle as the truth is revealed.
In the end Scott convinces Lansbury that times are changing and that this is the last town, of many, that he has to clean up. Scott and Lansbury ride off together; Scott leaves his gun behind
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
The Lives of Robert Ryan by J.R. Jones
The Lives of Robert Ryan (Wesleyan University Press, 2015) suggests that actor Ryan led at least two lives: personal and professional. The dilemma of any writer of a biography (of which I read many), especially one about an artist, actor, writer, etc. is how to weigh and reconcile the various lives. Jones does a better job than most biographers of reconciling Ryan's roles as devoted husband, father and peace activist with his film roles as, often, a snarling villain. Ryan himself apparently viewed his usual $125,000 per picture as a way of supporting his family and helping the Oakwood School, a private progressive school that Ryan and his wife, Quaker liberal Jessica Cadawalader, started in California.
Fortunately Ryan did get to work with several good directors who were able to portray Ryan as a complex and sensitive person underneath the gruff exterior. These included Jean Renoir (The Woman on the Beach, 1947), Andre de Toth (Day of the Outlaw, 1959), Fritz Lang (Clash by Night, 1952), Nicholas Ray (On Dangerous Ground, 1951), Samuel Fuller (House of Bamboo, 1955) and, especially, three films with Anthony Mann (The Naked Spur, 1953; Men in War, 1956; God's Little Acre, 1958). And, near the end of his career, Ryan had a role in Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch 1969, playing an older bounty hunter who wishes he had chosen another life. I only wish that Jones had gone more deeply into Ryan's performances in these films and his later ventures into theatre and how they were affected by what was going on in his life at each point.
In the sixties I would listen to Ryan's daughter, Lisa, call in to Larry Josephson's morning show on WBAI and she would emphasize Robert Ryan's commitment to SANE and other peace organizations that he supported during the Cold War. She hoped, as I do, that Ryan would be remembered as much for his work for peace as for his film roles.
Fortunately Ryan did get to work with several good directors who were able to portray Ryan as a complex and sensitive person underneath the gruff exterior. These included Jean Renoir (The Woman on the Beach, 1947), Andre de Toth (Day of the Outlaw, 1959), Fritz Lang (Clash by Night, 1952), Nicholas Ray (On Dangerous Ground, 1951), Samuel Fuller (House of Bamboo, 1955) and, especially, three films with Anthony Mann (The Naked Spur, 1953; Men in War, 1956; God's Little Acre, 1958). And, near the end of his career, Ryan had a role in Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch 1969, playing an older bounty hunter who wishes he had chosen another life. I only wish that Jones had gone more deeply into Ryan's performances in these films and his later ventures into theatre and how they were affected by what was going on in his life at each point.
In the sixties I would listen to Ryan's daughter, Lisa, call in to Larry Josephson's morning show on WBAI and she would emphasize Robert Ryan's commitment to SANE and other peace organizations that he supported during the Cold War. She hoped, as I do, that Ryan would be remembered as much for his work for peace as for his film roles.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Baseball Playoffs and Baseball Announcers
The Yankees were listless and disappeared quickly, but the Mets are still solidly in it. I prefer pitchers' duels but it was something to see the Mets explode for runs last night, especially after what happened to Tejada when Chase Utley took him out to prevent a double play on Saturday. Ron Darling, announcing the game for TBS, was correct when he said that thirty years ago such aggressive play was common, just as the catcher blocking the plate was.
Speaking of announcers, Darling is one of the better ones in this year's playoffs, which may be because he is better educated. Most of the former players who become announcers hardly know that nouns and verbs should agree or that there is a difference between a transitive and a non-transitive verb. This year the announcers have mostly said that the fielders were "great athletes" and that the hitters were either "seeing the ball well" (if they were getting hits) or "not seeing the ball well" (if they were striking out).
I highly recommend Jacob Silverman's piece in Sunday's New York Times, about Vin Scully. Silverman correctly says that "today's broadcasters, with a few notable exceptions, are awful," never offering an insight for three whole hours or more. Scully, who has been a Dodgers announcer since the Truman administration, not only does not utter platitudes, he also knows when not to talk, silence sometimes being more eloquent. One can read Scully's intense and beautiful description of the last inning of Sandy Koufax's perfect game; it's available on the internet. I do slightly disagree with Silverman's contention that most games are better enjoyed on mute. The problem with this is that baseball is so poorly televised, dependent as it is on the ads projected behind the catcher, that without the announcers one would have difficulty figuring out what was going on. I remember watching one game where there was an attempt to steal home and we saw none of the drama, just the pitcher going into a jerky motion; the announcers had to tell us what was happening; long gone are the days when TV showed the whole field. I prefer to listen to the games on radio, where one can "see" more, and we are lucky in New York to have the excellent Howie Rose and Josh Lewin announcing the Mets games (we are not so lucky with the Yankee announcers). In the playoffs, however, not all the games are even on the radio, even though ESPN announces that they are! If you can't afford cable TV: good luck, since none of the games are available over the air. I guess baseball doesn't care about radio listeners or those too poor to pay for over-priced cable; they probably couldn't afford to buy the cars advertised anyway!
Speaking of announcers, Darling is one of the better ones in this year's playoffs, which may be because he is better educated. Most of the former players who become announcers hardly know that nouns and verbs should agree or that there is a difference between a transitive and a non-transitive verb. This year the announcers have mostly said that the fielders were "great athletes" and that the hitters were either "seeing the ball well" (if they were getting hits) or "not seeing the ball well" (if they were striking out).
I highly recommend Jacob Silverman's piece in Sunday's New York Times, about Vin Scully. Silverman correctly says that "today's broadcasters, with a few notable exceptions, are awful," never offering an insight for three whole hours or more. Scully, who has been a Dodgers announcer since the Truman administration, not only does not utter platitudes, he also knows when not to talk, silence sometimes being more eloquent. One can read Scully's intense and beautiful description of the last inning of Sandy Koufax's perfect game; it's available on the internet. I do slightly disagree with Silverman's contention that most games are better enjoyed on mute. The problem with this is that baseball is so poorly televised, dependent as it is on the ads projected behind the catcher, that without the announcers one would have difficulty figuring out what was going on. I remember watching one game where there was an attempt to steal home and we saw none of the drama, just the pitcher going into a jerky motion; the announcers had to tell us what was happening; long gone are the days when TV showed the whole field. I prefer to listen to the games on radio, where one can "see" more, and we are lucky in New York to have the excellent Howie Rose and Josh Lewin announcing the Mets games (we are not so lucky with the Yankee announcers). In the playoffs, however, not all the games are even on the radio, even though ESPN announces that they are! If you can't afford cable TV: good luck, since none of the games are available over the air. I guess baseball doesn't care about radio listeners or those too poor to pay for over-priced cable; they probably couldn't afford to buy the cars advertised anyway!
Friday, October 9, 2015
Deux Jours, Une Nuit by Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne
Two Days, One Night, written and directed by the Dardenne brothers, is the kind of film seldom made in the United States: a film about the daily lives and difficulties of workers. Sandra is a factory worker in Belgium, just returned to work after a battle with depression, who has been voted out of her job by her fellow sixteen workers when they were offered a bonus if she were made redundant. I have never heard of this happening in the U.S. but I would not be surprised if it has, management always looking to turn workers against each other. The factory in which Sandra works does not seem to be unionized nor is there any reference to labor law in Belgium but even if there were a union it probably could not prevent someone from being fired, as I was for my own union activity. Sandra fights back and convinces the boss to have another vote, especially since the supervisor had talked against her to other workers. Sandra (beautifully played by Marion Cotillard) spends the week-end visiting each of the workers, listening to the financial problems they are having and how much they need the bonus. I know from my own union activity that there is usually less interest in any kind of solidarity than in what a union can do for the individual, and Sandra listens sympathetically. The Dardenne brothers stay close to Sandra, making us a part of her journey, as her children and husband encourage her when she sometimes just feels like giving up. Some of the spouses of the other workers are quite hostile to her. In the end the vote is less important than her pride in having made the effort.
Deux Jours, Une Nuit and the other films by the Dardenne brothers have obviously been influenced, with their low-key style and emphasis on the quotidian, by Belgian filmmaker Chantal Akerman, who died this week. I wrote about her film Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975) on July 7, 2014 and it will be shown on Turner Classic Movies on October 27.
Deux Jours, Une Nuit and the other films by the Dardenne brothers have obviously been influenced, with their low-key style and emphasis on the quotidian, by Belgian filmmaker Chantal Akerman, who died this week. I wrote about her film Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975) on July 7, 2014 and it will be shown on Turner Classic Movies on October 27.
The Man Who Would Be King by Rudyard Kipling
And that's all we know except that no one has gone there, and they fight, and in any place where they fight a man who knows how to drill men can always be a King.
--Kipling, The Man Who Would Be King (1889)
Kipling of course is now seen rather two-dimensionally as a defender of British imperialism. The truth is slightly more nuanced, even aside from the problem of judging the past by today's standards (Susan Sontag once attacked George Orwell, who wrote fairly and intelligently about Kipling, because, she said, if Orwell had been alive he would have supported the war in Vietnam!). I don't even think that children these days read The Jungle Book (1894) nor is the poem If (1895) studied much now in junior high: its reference to being "a man" probably alone disqualifies it. But for me the novella The Man Who Would Be King shows Kipling's skills as a writer and his ability to write effectively and evocatively about a particular place and time. It starts on a train in India, from Ajmir to Mhow, when the narrator, a newspaper editor, meets Daniel Dravot and Peachy Carnehan, who plan to go to Kafiristan and make themselves kings. They ask for help with maps. They leave, disguised as a beggar and a priest, and nothing is heard of them for two years, until Peachy returns, crippled and in rags, narrating the story of how they became kings, with fascinating detail about the landscapes and tribes they encountered. Things go well for a time, as they convince the tribesmen that they are Gods, and then Dravot decides to take a wife, who bites him during the wedding ceremony and all is lost; he bleeds and is not a God after all. Dravot is killed and Peachy is crucified between two pine trees but is released when he doesn't die. He takes Dravot's head with him and dies shortly after his return to the newspaper office.
The story is beautifully told, with many fascinating details about life in 19th C. India But it also functions as an allegory about imperialism, as two Englishmen seize control in Kafiristan with their superior firepower and their ability to manipulate the trusting local population. They, of course, come to a bad end, as would eventually happen to the English throughout their empire.
--Kipling, The Man Who Would Be King (1889)
Kipling of course is now seen rather two-dimensionally as a defender of British imperialism. The truth is slightly more nuanced, even aside from the problem of judging the past by today's standards (Susan Sontag once attacked George Orwell, who wrote fairly and intelligently about Kipling, because, she said, if Orwell had been alive he would have supported the war in Vietnam!). I don't even think that children these days read The Jungle Book (1894) nor is the poem If (1895) studied much now in junior high: its reference to being "a man" probably alone disqualifies it. But for me the novella The Man Who Would Be King shows Kipling's skills as a writer and his ability to write effectively and evocatively about a particular place and time. It starts on a train in India, from Ajmir to Mhow, when the narrator, a newspaper editor, meets Daniel Dravot and Peachy Carnehan, who plan to go to Kafiristan and make themselves kings. They ask for help with maps. They leave, disguised as a beggar and a priest, and nothing is heard of them for two years, until Peachy returns, crippled and in rags, narrating the story of how they became kings, with fascinating detail about the landscapes and tribes they encountered. Things go well for a time, as they convince the tribesmen that they are Gods, and then Dravot decides to take a wife, who bites him during the wedding ceremony and all is lost; he bleeds and is not a God after all. Dravot is killed and Peachy is crucified between two pine trees but is released when he doesn't die. He takes Dravot's head with him and dies shortly after his return to the newspaper office.
The story is beautifully told, with many fascinating details about life in 19th C. India But it also functions as an allegory about imperialism, as two Englishmen seize control in Kafiristan with their superior firepower and their ability to manipulate the trusting local population. They, of course, come to a bad end, as would eventually happen to the English throughout their empire.
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Baseball Playoffs
I have waited to comment on the playoffs until it was certain that The New York Mets and The New York Yankees are in it Though I often say, when asked what team I root for, that I root for the elegant geometry of the game itself, I do prefer the New York teams. When I was growing up I rooted for the Red Sox, both because my older brother was a Yankee fan and because Ted Williams was on the Red Sox (see my post about Williams July 8 of this year) but since I came to New York, exactly fifty years ago, I have rooted for the New York teams. I prefer the Mets because I prefer the National League, where the pitcher bats and there is more strategy in trying to balance pitching, fielding and hitting. In 1986 I was watching the final game of the Mets/Astros playoffs, along with my fellow Nation employees, when I had to leave for the opera. I had my transistor radio with me and listened to it on the plaza at Lincoln Center, as all around me there were groups of people doing the same. When Jesse Orosco got the final out cheers went up all over the plaza and we went into the theatre to enjoy the opera (Cendrillon, by Massenet). So I hope the Yankees beat the Astros (now in the American League) and the Mets beat the Dodgers (as sportswriter Dick Young said, when the man who moved the Dodgers from Brooklyn died, "Walter O'Malley, I spit on your grave.").
If the Mets or the Yankees don't win I am rooting for the Royals and the Cubs. The Cubs because they play in one of the oldest and loveliest stadiums, but also because they have not won the World Series since 1908 and last won the pennant in 1945. As for the Royals, who came close to winning the World Series last year, I recommend Bruce Schoenfeld's article in the Oct. 4 New York Times Magazine about manager Ned Yost. Yost is considered old-fashioned because he treats his players as individuals, not just collections of statistics, "the reach of social media and the herd mentality that pervades it may make him the most criticized manager ever." Kansas City puts its emphasis on fielding and, especially, middle relief, something many teams have neglected in this era of glamorous closers and starting pitchers who often can't go more that five or six innings. Yost also allows his players to bunt and steal, both rather lost arts in today's world of power hitters and homeruns.
The Mets were something of a surprise this year. They had good starting pitching from the beginning (Colon, deGrom, Harvey, et al.) and a successful closer in Jeurys Familia, but they only started scoring enough runs after the June acquisitions of middle reliever Tyer Clippard and hitters Yoenis Cespedes, Kelly Johnson and Juan Uribe, the call-up of Michael Conforto and the return of David Wright. Of course we all know that anything can happen in one game (the Yankees vs. the Astros) or a short series (the Mets vs. the Dodgers) but I have hopes for a subway series, one that will go more than the five games of 2000.
If the Mets or the Yankees don't win I am rooting for the Royals and the Cubs. The Cubs because they play in one of the oldest and loveliest stadiums, but also because they have not won the World Series since 1908 and last won the pennant in 1945. As for the Royals, who came close to winning the World Series last year, I recommend Bruce Schoenfeld's article in the Oct. 4 New York Times Magazine about manager Ned Yost. Yost is considered old-fashioned because he treats his players as individuals, not just collections of statistics, "the reach of social media and the herd mentality that pervades it may make him the most criticized manager ever." Kansas City puts its emphasis on fielding and, especially, middle relief, something many teams have neglected in this era of glamorous closers and starting pitchers who often can't go more that five or six innings. Yost also allows his players to bunt and steal, both rather lost arts in today's world of power hitters and homeruns.
The Mets were something of a surprise this year. They had good starting pitching from the beginning (Colon, deGrom, Harvey, et al.) and a successful closer in Jeurys Familia, but they only started scoring enough runs after the June acquisitions of middle reliever Tyer Clippard and hitters Yoenis Cespedes, Kelly Johnson and Juan Uribe, the call-up of Michael Conforto and the return of David Wright. Of course we all know that anything can happen in one game (the Yankees vs. the Astros) or a short series (the Mets vs. the Dodgers) but I have hopes for a subway series, one that will go more than the five games of 2000.
Monday, October 5, 2015
New York City Ballet Oct. 4, 2015
We took our four-year-old daughter Victoria to the ballet for the first time and I am pleased to say that she behaved beautifully and loved watching the performances (she studies dance at her pre-school and previously had only seen a performance of mine at the 92nd St. Y; she was slightly disappointed that I was not in this one!). I have often mentioned how some parents take their children to The Nutcracker and to no other ballets, giving them an incomplete and distorted idea of ballet. We do have tickets to The Nutcracker in December but decided to start off with a more complex program to give Victoria an idea of how much ballet has to offer, from Richard Tanner to Balanchine and from John Cage to Gottschalk.
The program started with Ash, choreography by Peter Martins and music by Michael Torke. It is one of Martins's better ballets, its music intense and melodic and the choreography non-stop in a style strongly influenced by Balanchine. There was no adagio, fortunately, since Martins has never managed to convey any emotions in his adagios. The dancing was beautifully executed -- as it was in all the dances in this performance -- and led by Ashly Isaacs and Taylor Stanley. There was even some humor -- unusual for Martins -- as Stanley timed precisely his ducking under Isaacs' legs as she turned.
Next came Sonatas and Interludes, with Tiler Peck and Anthony Huxley, to a score by John Cage for prepared piano and choreography by Richard Tanner. This angular pas de deux made extensive and effective use of attitude, the expressive use of a bent leg. This was followed by Tarantella, a speedy allegro pas de deux to Gottschalk music. I have seen this Balanchine ballet performed by, among others, Patricia McBride and Mikhail Baryshnikov but here it was done by soloist Erica Pereira and corps member Spartax Hoxa, who overcame their lack of technical proficiency with their enthusiastic attack. Then we saw Justin Peck's Rode-o, to the same music as Agnes DeMille's ballet (though Peck used Copland's rearranged score for orchestra). Peck's work, strongly influenced by Jerome Robbins, is still work-in-progress, i.e., the inventiveness of the choreography is not helped by the bursts of facetiousness, the ugly costumes, and having only one woman in the cast. It also would have helped if Peck had more to say, since images of the DeMille ballet kept coming through unbidden.
The last piece was Balanchine's Slaughter on Tenth Avenue, from the 1936 production of Rogers and Hart's On Your Toes, one of Balanchine's best "show-biz" pieces (as opposed to his austere ballets and his romantic ballets), with terrific dancing by Tyler Angle and Sara Mearns. Mearns's dancing came close to my favorite dancer in the role of the girl, Suzanne Farrell, who really "let her hair down," both literally and figuratively. We carefully explained to our four-year-old that no one was actually hurt, that it was rather like a cartoon (she loves Chuck Jones) and she enjoyed the ballet's energy and humor, though somewhat to my surprise she found it slightly "silly" compared to the other ballets on the program.
The program started with Ash, choreography by Peter Martins and music by Michael Torke. It is one of Martins's better ballets, its music intense and melodic and the choreography non-stop in a style strongly influenced by Balanchine. There was no adagio, fortunately, since Martins has never managed to convey any emotions in his adagios. The dancing was beautifully executed -- as it was in all the dances in this performance -- and led by Ashly Isaacs and Taylor Stanley. There was even some humor -- unusual for Martins -- as Stanley timed precisely his ducking under Isaacs' legs as she turned.
Next came Sonatas and Interludes, with Tiler Peck and Anthony Huxley, to a score by John Cage for prepared piano and choreography by Richard Tanner. This angular pas de deux made extensive and effective use of attitude, the expressive use of a bent leg. This was followed by Tarantella, a speedy allegro pas de deux to Gottschalk music. I have seen this Balanchine ballet performed by, among others, Patricia McBride and Mikhail Baryshnikov but here it was done by soloist Erica Pereira and corps member Spartax Hoxa, who overcame their lack of technical proficiency with their enthusiastic attack. Then we saw Justin Peck's Rode-o, to the same music as Agnes DeMille's ballet (though Peck used Copland's rearranged score for orchestra). Peck's work, strongly influenced by Jerome Robbins, is still work-in-progress, i.e., the inventiveness of the choreography is not helped by the bursts of facetiousness, the ugly costumes, and having only one woman in the cast. It also would have helped if Peck had more to say, since images of the DeMille ballet kept coming through unbidden.
The last piece was Balanchine's Slaughter on Tenth Avenue, from the 1936 production of Rogers and Hart's On Your Toes, one of Balanchine's best "show-biz" pieces (as opposed to his austere ballets and his romantic ballets), with terrific dancing by Tyler Angle and Sara Mearns. Mearns's dancing came close to my favorite dancer in the role of the girl, Suzanne Farrell, who really "let her hair down," both literally and figuratively. We carefully explained to our four-year-old that no one was actually hurt, that it was rather like a cartoon (she loves Chuck Jones) and she enjoyed the ballet's energy and humor, though somewhat to my surprise she found it slightly "silly" compared to the other ballets on the program.
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