Ghost Light Monday -- Paddle to the Sea, short film

If you don't know the children's book Paddle to the Sea by author and illustrator Holling C. Holling, you must check it out. Written in the 1940s it follows the travels of a small, carved, Indian canoe-figure as it floats through the Great Lakes, down the St. Lawrence River and into the Atlantic Ocean. The story is whimsical, with beautiful illustrations and teaches a lot about the geography of the Great Lakes.

I was surprised to come across a National Film Board of Canada live-action film of the story, made in 1966, but recently re-released on DVD by Criterion. I thought my niece and nephews might like it (since they know the book at least as well as I do), but thought I would check it out myself first (excuse). The Canadian Film Board generally produces wonderful short films, most of them documentaries.

While the photography and scenery of the film is beautiful and, at times, breath-takingly shot (Niagara Falls) by producer and director William Mason, I was a little disappointed in the film as a whole. It's only 30 minutes long--not long enough to really cover the most edifying parts of the story (the seasonal changes, geography, history, and industry of the Great Lakes). Neither was it enough time to really feel the length of the journey and the time span which it takes--as depicted in the book. Also the Native American (or rather First Nations, as this is set on the Canadian side of things) aspect disappears quickly in the film. In the book the Indian boy returns at the end, not in the film version. Also, one of the strongest impressions I have from the book are the illustrations (as exemplified by the title page), and the film uses none of them.

I will pass the DVD on to the kids in my life, because I do think some of the nature footage is worth seeing and it's another way to tell a story they will hear again and again over the years, but only to augment the book, not to replace it.

Paddle-to-the-Sea
written and illustrated by Holling Clancy Holling
published first in 1941

Paddle-to-the-Sea

film written and directed by William Mason

produced by the National Film Board of Canada in 1966

released on DVD by the Criterion Collection

Ghost light Monday--Another Musical Mentor

Too few people knew Dan Tucker, a long-standing Chicago composer and newspaperman who passed away this weekend at the age of 84. That's not to say that Mr. Tucker was not well-known nor well-loved. He was both those things by many, many people. But if a larger majority of people had known Dan, I think the world would be a better place. A genteel, gracious, and charming man, Dan was a purveyor of good taste, better grammar, and great humor. Fortunately, for me I was the recipient of all of those things from Dan at one point in my life.

I met Dan in the early 2000s, after he had retired from a four-decades career in the newspaper business as editor and music critic. He was focusing on his own music-making in the form of composition, a calling which Dan had pursued all his professional life. A man of diverse interests and great intelligence, he had earned Bachelor and Master degrees from the American Conservatory of Music in Chicago when he was in his late twenties and already employed full time in the newspaper business.

His compositions, while not widely played, have been performed by such notable artists as Rostropovich, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and His Majesty's Clerks. Dan's compositions are known for their easy lyricism and sensitive word-setting. His choice of song texts shows his excellent tastes and diverse interests: Shakespeare, former Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Thomas Merton, Native American texts, Ogden Nash, and Lewis Carroll.

I must confess that I have heard very little of Dan's music first-hand. I will miss the man more than the music. He was a gentle soul that brimmed with the fire of creation. Something more of us should have.

Ghost Light Monday--Into the Wild

I have wanted to see Into the Wild for a while--since I first saw and liked Emile Hirsch in Milk about a year ago. I knew some general stuff about the story of Into the Wild, but not nearly enough to realize what a beautifully photographed and acted film this is, and what a disturbing, yet somehow heart-warming story this is.

Firstly, Hal Holbrook must be now granted not only the status of national institution, but also the position of grandfather of all the most subtle, effective, and nuanced film acting. Mr. Holbrook is on screen for maybe 10 minutes of this film, but he is so heart-wrenchingly wonderful that you forget that he's on screen with someone else.

That sounds like a dis against Emile Hirsch; it is not intended as such. Mr. Hirsch owns this film and deserves every bit of praise it has afforded him. There are other effective performances here, too, from William Hurt, Marcia Gay Harden and particularly from Jena Malone who does wonderful work with her voice-overs.

The only aspect of the film that I took a bit of issue with was the use of quotes written over the screen as if they were handwritten. I realize that this relates to the diary we see Alexander/Christopher keeping while living in the Magic Bus, but I thought the technique a bit obvious and got in the way more than it helped. Luckily for me, the practice was not continued in the later part of the film.

Ghost Light Monday--Julie & Julia at the Multiplex

How could I not talk about the uber-blog and the movie which it spawned? I did encounter Julie Powell's blog before the book was published, but after she had completed her 365 journey. Safe to say that Ms. Powell is the woman who launched a thousand blogs--including this one.

Well, the film incarnation of Julie & Julia is delightful. Some have criticized the inclusion of Ms. Powell's story in this film. They believe that Julia Child is worthy of her own film, and while I agree with that comment, I think the Powell parts of the story help put Mrs. Child's accomplishments into perspective, which we wouldn't get just from the 50s portion of the tale. We also get some information about the Childs that it would be ackward to reveal in their section of the film.

Meryl Streep captures all the joie de vivre and determination that is Julia Child, along with her vocal and physical mannerisms. We only see a bit of the saucy (pun intended) Julia, apparently she was not adverse to four-letter words and strong sexual innuendo, as I learned when I read both My Life in France and another biography called Appetite for Life.

Ghost Light Monday--Another personal loss

Another musical mentor of mine slipped away in the last week. No I don't mean Michael Jackson.

Norman Pellegrini was the long-time (43 years) program director for the radio station which broadcasts the weekly classical concerts I produce. I only met Norman after his retirement from the station while he was serving as President of the Board of Directors for the non-profit which oversees the concert series. He also served as the ears that listened to auditions by young performers seeking an invitation to perform on the series. Even into his late 70s, Norman could be driven, determined, and without compromise when it came to issues musical.

The radio station ran a full day of programming related to Mr. Pellegrini last Thursday, including selections from many of his favorite pieces, but more importantly, excerpts from what must be thousands of hours of programming he created. Mr. Pellegrini helped invent the world of syndicated radio programs when he started The Midnight Special. Because of his programming and drive, WFMT radio is one of the premier classical stations in the country, syndicating much of its programming across the globe. Norman served as host for many live broadcasts, including concerts of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and performances at Lyric Opera of Chicago.

Many more articulate voices than mine have uttered their remembrances of Mr. Pellegrini this week, but I will just say that my personal and professional lives have been improved by having Norman in them over the last five years.

Ghost Light Monday--Arabian Nights at Lookingglass Theater

Lookingglass Theatre is one of the "new generation" of companies in Chicago, not a newbie like in a storefront doing guerrilla theatre when and where they can, but newer than say Steppenwolf or Victory Gardens. Lookingglass was formed (I think in the early 1990s) by an ensemble of performers and directors who mostly were at Northwestern University together. Notable names in the ensemble are director Mary Zimmerman, actor (and now writer/director) David Schwimmer and actor Joey Slotnick.

I've seen three or four Lookingglass productions in recent years, since they moved into a blackbox theater in the pumping station of the Chicago Water Tower. Part of the building still functions to pump water (and is visible when you enter the building), but some unused space was rented (or given) to Lookingglass by the City of Chicago to make into their permanent playing space. Last weekend I went to see a revival of the company's production of The Arabian Nights.

First presented in 1992, this is a production created and directed by Mary Zimmerman from the 1,001 Arabian Nights collection of stories. Simply and creatively staged, using hanging lanterns, kalim rugs, and low wooden tables, the production is beautiful to look at--a trademark of Zimmerman shows. An ensemble cast is on stage for most of the show taking on a variety of roles--another trademark.

I was mostly enchanted by this show which depicts perhaps a dozen tales from the collection, tied together by Sherahazade seeking to preserve her life for one more night. What could have been confusing shifts between individual stories, the through narrative and different characters/same actor were all handled deftly through consistencies in staging, lighting, and costuming. The nature of most of the separate stories lent a lyrical quality to the production, which was only interrupted by an extended improvised section that I thought took away more than it added.

There was quite a bit of music in the show, which was--if not actual Middle Eastern songs, chants and drum rhythms--evocative of the time and place.

The Arabian Nights
Adapted and Directed by Mary Zimmerman
Running at the Lookingglass Theatre Company through July 12, 2009
Cast: Ryan Artzburger, Louise Lamson, Heidi Stillman, Barzin Akhavan, Louis Tucci, Usman Ally, David Catlin

A Year in the Life of Musical Thinking

Happy New Year. I started this project on June 1, 2008, stating that I wanted to recapture the interest of my teen years when I (like so many others) would obsess over Broadway musical cast albums. As adulthood has taken hold, I felt I had lost some of that "can-do, let's put on a show" enthusiasm. I hoped to bring back some excitement, and see where it lead me.

So what I have noticed over the course of 365 days, 240 entries, 214 shows, 14 live performances, 126 DVDs, and 77 cast albums?

Nothing beats seeing a show live. Even if the show is a bomb, the truest sense of it is obtained when sitting in a darkened theater surrounded by an audience all anticipating the performance. The least effective version is often a film version, or perhaps I should call them film adaptations.

I'm not as myopic as I was in high school. I need more than just one distraction. Call it maturity, television obsession, or ADHD, but I can't listen endlessly to albums like I did back in the day.

I like cross-over singers, by which I mean those trained as opera singers who have either chosen to focus on musical theater or are "slumming" for a production or two.

There is usually something or someone I am drawn to in every production. One song, one actor, one voice can capture my interest and sustain me through any production.

I'm not an expert on the American musical stage--I'm not even reasonably knowledgeable. Just ask anyone who has corrected me in a comment on this blog.

I don't write as well as I wish I did. One of my unstated goals in starting this Year past was to hone some rusty writing skills--primarily unused in my current professional life. My vocabulary is limited. My sentence structure is not varied enough. And my style is often too casual.

I'm lazy. I was much too willing to watch a DVD that Netflix delivered to my mailbox, which is much more passive than seeking out and listening to a cast album. Even if my mind wanders while listening, it is a much more active process for me.

There is more to do. Even if the 12-months is over, there are lots of musicals to go, lots of Thinking to do and obviously lots to still learn and discover. I hope I will continue posting entries on a weekly or twice-weekly basis.

But then again, I'm lazy, so it might not be as often as I hope.

Ghost Light Monday--Tribute to Byron Hanson

When I visited my alma mater of Interlochen Arts Academy last Thursday, it was ostensibly to attend the farewell concert and retirement tribute to Byron Hanson, who has lead the band program at Interlochen for 44 years. When I realized that the theater department was also performing Seussical, I went to that performance, but made it over to the concert hall for most of the tribute, although I missed the band performance of music from Schwanda the Bagpiper, which was a disappointment. How often does one get the chance to hear music from Schwanda the Bagpiper performed live? Not often enough, I can tell you.

Well, the tribute to outgoing music director Byron Hanson was interesting and I'm glad I got the chance to hear most of it. Among the many people speaking tributes was Elaine Douvas, who is the principal oboist of the Met Opera Orchestra and a teacher and head of the woodwinds department at The Juilliard School. While I had never met Ms. Douvas (or even seen her) before, she was involved with a competition I managed a few years back. She nominated a couple of oboists for the competition. While I do remember that the winner was not from Ms. Douvas's studio, I don't recall if one of her students was a finalist. I was interested to know Ms. Douvas's connection to Interlochen--she is a Michigan native and attended both summer camp and the Academy at Interlochen.

I was not an instrumental person at Interlochen, I was in the theater division, but Mr. Hanson is a bit of a living legend at the school. One of those encyclopedic types who seems to have endless energy, and the ability to play excerpts from any piece of music; name your theme, he can play it. It was interesting to hear again and again at this tribute, the same comments, about how Mr. Hanson could inevitably fit in one more coaching or accompanying session--from students he had thirty years ago to students of today. I find that kind of longevity amazing, and am envious of it. I'm also envious of the focus that one must have to achieve the depth of knowledge Mr. Hanson displays.

Fortunately for the institutional history of Interlochen (as well as for many of those instrumentalists look for an accompanist, I'm sure) Maestro Hanson is not leaving Interlochen, but will become the school's first archivist--a task that has been much neglected, I can tell you from first hand experience.

I wish Mr. Hanson well in his new position, and while I am sorry I didn't work with him personally, I am glad he has been and will continue to be such a valued resource for the school.

Ghost Light Monday--Bea-keeping

Okay, so I do have a least one good story from my less-than-grandiose career in the performing arts, and that story involves Bea Arthur, RIP.

About 10 years ago, the Auditorium Theatre in Chicago produced a season of concert-version musicals, similar to what New York's City Center does with its Encores Series. Ovations at the Auditorium lasted just one season.

Ms. Arthur was hired to be part of the cast of the Gershwin show Strike up the Band and spent a week in Chicago rehearsing and performing the show. I was hired to be the "Bea-keeper". Basically, I would show up at her hotel 15 minutes before the hired car was due to take her to the theater and make certain that she left on time. I would phone up to her suite and rouse her into action which was fortunately never very early in the day. I also got her to fittings, some press interviews and the airport. And it is the trip to the airport as she was leaving town that is the setting of my story.

After the final matinee performance of Strike up the Band, the company--including Ms. Arthur and myself--went to a restaurant for a celebratory dinner. Ms. Arthur was flying back to California that evening, so we only had about 45 minutes' time at the restaurant before I needed to get her into the hired car and off to O'Hare. Well, in that 45 minutes, she ate very little of the dinner buffet, but downed three gin and tonics. While she had a little nap in the car on the way to the airport I had to figure out how to get her to her gate in O'Hare's remote terminal--a long schlepp for anyone, let alone a septuagenarian with a good buzz on.

When the car dropped us off at the curb, we checked Ms. Arthur's bags with the Skycap and I escorted her into the terminal, where we sat down. Fortunately, it was late enough on Sunday evening that the departure lines were not long, and doubly fortunately a (presumably gay) ticket agent at a closed first-class counter noticed her come in. I went over to the ticket agent and said I had a VIP first-class passenger and I wondered if he could help get her checked in and convince her that calling for wheel-chair assistance to the remote terminal was the most expedient option.
Well, where would this world be without helpful, over-zealous gay men? The ticket agent did the trick, got Ms. Arthur checked-in without her having to get up from the chair she had landed in upon arrival, and with more than a little fawning convinced her that he should call for an assistant to get her to the gate.

Bea agreed to the wheel-chair on one condition; during the ride through the terminal and to the gate, I had to apologize to her (frequently) for tripping her at the theater that afternoon, which of course hadn't happened, but was her excuse for not making the walk herself. So off she rolls, pushed by a slightly mentally challenged adult wheel-chair assistant with me hold Bea's hand saying things like "I just feel awful that this happened" and Bea saying things like "Now, it's not that bad, just a little twist, I'll be fine by the time I land in Los Angeles." The highlight of this little improv scene was when she pulled my ear down to her level in the chair and whispered "Now who's the best actress you know?"

Bea, you were definitely one of the best actresses I knew. I lift my g & t to you. You will be missed.

Classical Monday--My Bach Festival

One of my part-time jobs is managing a festival of the music of JS Bach. That festival is happening this week, so I will have to continue my Musical Thinking next week, because I'm busy Musical Doing right now. If you're near Chicago and like baroque music, check out the Bach Week Festival in Evanston. We have concerts on Friday, April 24 and Sunday, April 26. I'm happy to say that the Sunday concert is almost sold out.

I have lots of great cast albums piling up for entries. And I have a ticket to see Curtains, so lots of good thoughts to come.

Michael

Ghost Light Monday -- The passing of an era

A few days ago, one of my musical mentors passed away. While not a professional or even amateur musician, my friend was a life-long devotee of classical music and a long-term patron of the arts. From her, I learned how to value musicians and how to strive to create an environment in which they could do their best work.

I was a some-time theatrical stage manager 15 years ago when I started being invited to musical evenings at the home of a well-to-do woman in her 60s whom I had met through a mutual friend, and whom I had gotten to know because I took care of her dog when she travelled. Often--I would say 12 or 15 times a year--she would host a salon evening with music provided by a professional symphony player. She would invite 30-40 people to be the audience in her living room, and everyone would share in a buffet dinner following the performance.

These evenings were like a modern-day version of a scene out of an Edith Wharton novel. In a pre-war co-op apartment over-looking Lincoln Park and Lake Michigan, this audience of interesting and appreciative people would be treated to a top-notch Chicago Symphony musicians playing chamber music works. Then everyone would mingle and dine in several rooms throughout her apartment.

As these evenings took on a life of their own, my friend decided to found and sponsor an annual competition for pre-professional musicians just completing their university or conservatory training. She hired me to help with the administration of the competition. For six years, I ran this competition, which was for a different instrument each year. During my tenure, I worked on contests for oboe, violin, piano (twice), and voice (twice). Through this work, I met many prominent musicians in Chicago, who served as musical advisers or judges for the competition. It lead directly to the job I currently have administering a public weekly chamber music series.

With my friend's death last week, I do feel like something very special has come to an end. Not many people open their home so willingly and so often, or work so hard to put together an interesting evening of entertainment and camaraderie. Not many people have such an appreciation of the art of the professional musician that they will strive so diligently to create an kind, supportive environment for that art to happen. It is a lesson I try to take with me in my own life, whether I am dealing with musicians, actors, or cab drivers.

I feel grateful that for so many years, I could see first hand how it should be done.

Ghost Light Monday--the funniest thing I've read in a while

Fans of obvious double entrendres prick up your ears! This article from the recent issue of The Tracker (a quarterly on historic organs--you know the musical instrument) is the funniest thing I've read in weeks. I'm not certain if its an April Fool's joke or the real deal. It helps if you know that pipe organs are essentially wind instruments with high-pressure air chambers that force air through their pipes in order to make sound. A footnote to the article says it is reprinted from Everybody's Guide to Music from 1894 and was written by Josiah Booth. The headline gives a strong hint of the text to follow:

Directions for Blowing the Organ

Although the blowing of the instrument does not devolve upon the player, it is important that he should have a full knowledge of this department to start with. More harm can be done to the organ by bad blowing than by bad playing, therefore see that this duty is always properly performed, according to the following directions:

The bellows' handle should be firmly grasped near the outer end, and then moved up and down with a slow, sweeping stroke, which must be absolutely free from all jerking. An indicator usually shows the amount of wind contained in the reservoir, and this should be kept as nearly as possible in the position shown in the illustration.

With a soft organ a very slow stroke will suffice to keep in the wind; a loud organ will require a quicker and stronger stroke; in all cases, the indicator must be made to ride steadily in one place. Wind must on no account be blown when the indicator is at full, as this causes a straining of the wind-chest, and gives annoyance to the player by the noise of superfluous wind rushing from the escape-valve.

Ghost Light Monday--assessment at 200 entries

Since I've reached 200 entries and almost 10 months in my Year, I thought I would try to get some sense of my journey thus far.

It's been easier than I thought to not repeat shows; I've only repeated two in 10 months--Guys and Dolls and Once Upon a Mattress. Both good shows and since one production of Mattress was taking advantage of a chance to see a show live, I don't feel too bad about that. I do feel bad that only five of my entires of been related to seeing live shows; I need to get out there.

I also feel bad that I've experienced shows twice as often on DVD than on audio recordings (113 vs. 55). In some cases the DVDs have been tapings of live shows, but more often they've been watered-down Hollywood versions; not the same thing as the original show.

Originally I had planned on having an entry every day, six musicals a week and a Ghost Light Monday entry on something else. I have not lived up to that schedule. I doubt I'll reach 240 entries by the end of May, which will be the 12-month mark.

My real epiphany (perhaps too strong a word) has been related to the number of composers/lyricists who have written musicals. I knew the range of performers would be very large, and the styles of shows very mixed; but I think I've listened to music by 74 different composers. No surprise that Richard Rodgers appears more often as a label in my entries than anyone else. Stephen Sondheim is right behind him, along with Oscar Hammerstein and Adolph Green as lyricists.  And there are still many more song-writers I haven't investigated yet.

Where's my library card?

Ghost Light Monday--Monsters and Prodigies: The History of the Castrati live performance

Yesterday I went to a live performance at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. They have an active and interesting series of music, theater, dance and inter-disciplinary performances from both local groups and national/international companies. The performance yesterday was by Teatro de Ciertos Habitantes from Mexico and the English title the show was Monsters and Prodigies: The History of the Castrati.

Castrati (the singular is castrato) were male singers who maintained their boyhood singing voices through the removal of their testicles (or maybe through the removal of whatever delivery system takes hormones from their testicles to the rest of their bodies--I really don't want to know much more about how 17th century surgical practices accomplished this!). The result is that the pure unadulterated (pun intended) boy soprano voice stayed and was enhanced as the singer's musculature matured. Castrati were "made" sometime between the ages of 6 and 11, and were mostly children of poor families who were convinced (at first by the church, later by opera producers) that their children would be musical stars. And castrati were stars, particularly once they entered the world of opera--where females were forbidden to perform. At times, castrati portrayed female characters, but often they were the male hero. But enough of the history of the castrati, on to this show about them...

The production is very inter-disciplinary, incorporating acting, dance, singing, acrobatics and even an animal showcase. At times the production is circus-like, chaotic, and hysterical. At other times, poignant, or perverse or both. It somehow managed to present the disgust at the practice of creating castrati, engender awe at the musical prowess of some of them, poke fun at the ridiculousness of many Baroque opera practices, and leave us with dismay that so many were used and thrown aside when the practice was discontinued.

The premise of the production is that our world is not capable of accepting freaks anymore and that's what these singers were. The characters were: a Centaur, Siamese Twins, a eunuch slave, a composer/harpsichordist, a Castrati, and a live Lipizzaner horse and rider. At one point the Lipizaner danced the same choreography as everyone else on stage. The hero costumes for the castrati were ridiculously over-the-top. Actually, maybe not that far from the truth, but laughable by today's standards.

The production included quite a bit of music, including several Baroque opera arias for male soprano. The singing was not the strongest aspect of the production, but very passable for performers who were asked to do so much in other regards. The show has been the hit of international festivals and has traveled a lot since its debut in 2000.

Sorry but I attended the final performance of this show in Chicago, although I believe it will be presented in Mexico again in the near future. Road trip!

Monsters and Prodigies: The History of the Castrati
Teatro de Ciertos Habitantes
Directed by Caludio Valdes Kuri
Created in 2000
Cast: Paul Roman, Gaston Yanes, Javier Medina, Kaveh Parmas, Edwin Calderone, Miguel Angel Lopez, Luis Fernando Villegas

Ghost Light Monday--The Dish film on DVD

I can thank my mother for this entry. I vaguely remember hearing about the film The Dish when it was released in 2000, but I had long forgotten it, and would never had put in on my Netflix queue. On a recent trip to Australia, my mother saw a screening of this film and thought my father and I would like it, so she had it on hand for us to watch this weekend during my visit. Yes, this scenario might seem like a new millenium version of the Norman Rockwell painting where the family is gathered round the radio.

Well, The Dish would fit in well with Rockwell's world--it is a charming film full of delightful quirky characters whose interacting form the finest parts of this film.

The story involves an Australian satellite dish that played a significant role in the Apollo 11 moon landing by receiving the television signal sent from the LEM Eagle. Sam Neill stars as the director of the Australian facility. Patrick Warburton (who knew he had done anything other than voice-over work and sit-coms?) is the American NASA respresentative watching over the satellite's Apollo involvement. A cast of quirky small town characters fill out the story.

The Dish
Directed by Rob Sitch
Released by Warner Bros. in 2000
Cast: Sam Neill, Patrick Warburton, Billy Mitchell, Kevin Harrington, Tom Long

Ghostlight Monday: Milk--film at the multiplex

What exactly is a plex and do you need more than two to make it a multiplex? My grandmother lived in a duplex for a while, did she show films there?

Anyway, I shelled out my 9 dollars to sit in a crowded but incredibly quiet movie theater to see the latest gay-themed film making the circuit. Gay films are notoriously bad, but I always like to see them in the theater, because you never know when you might get lucky--I mean with the quality of the film, of course.

Well, I got very lucky with Milk.

This is much less a gay film than it is a political film. Yes, all the primary characters are gay men (and one token gay woman), but the struggles of these characters are more about how to organize themselves and others to their cause. And therein lies the strength of the film. This is a universal theme; we've seen a version of this story in films about Black civil rights, Gandhi, Mexicans, Cubans, the Irish, Suffragettes (which has to be the most sexist way to refer to someone struggling for political power), labor unions, Canadians, disabled people, even cartoon animals, so why not the gays?

Rather than that universality hurting the cause, it helps this movie and--one hopes--the appreciation for the struggles of all special interest groups seeking equal rights under the promise of "one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

Milk

Film release of 2008
Directed by Gus van Sant
Cast: Sean Penn, Josh Brolin, Emil Hirsch, James Franco

Ghost Light Monday--Wall-E on DVD

I had not been interested in seeing this film due mostly to my feeling that in past Pixar films I found the CG lacking in warmth and humanity--perhaps an unfair gripe with an animated film. Well, thanks to a rousing endorsement from some trusted friends who know my film and television likes and dislikes very well, I watched Wall-E on DVD for my non-musical entry this Monday. I'm very glad I did, for this film has changed my view of what an animated movie can be.

It can be charming; it can be emotional; it can convey feelings; it can mimic humanity. I don't ask much more from live actors I see perform, so why would I look for more than this from animation? Often the live actors disappoint, but the characters in Wall-E did not.

The opening third of the film has next to no dialogue, and I didn't miss it. I was sort of disappointed (but not shocked) to hear words when they reappeared.

The story of going up against strong systems also appealed to me. And there were even two songs from the film version of Hello Dolly! to keep this Broadway boy tuned in!

Ghost light Monday--Doubt film at the multiplex

Keeping with the nun theme from my last entry...

Woe to me that I did not see the touring production of Doubt when it came to Chicago a couple of years ago with Cherry Jones in the lead. The power of this script and the charisma of Ms. Jones apparently made for a compelling combination. And now having seen the film version of it, I can understand why. Watching the film I kept trying to imagine the stage performances. Bad on me for not focusing on the stellar performances at hand.

Does anyone else feel that Meryl Streep's performances have become all about the accent? I don't begrudge any actor for using some aspect to get into the character they are charged with playing, but I would like to see a powerful performance by Ms. Streep that doesn't involve some kind of drawl, or twang, or yap or other. I think this prevented me from completely enjoying her performance. I kept waiting for the crack in the armour of Sister Aloysius. I had to wait until the final moment of the film. If Sister Aloysius is supposed to mirror the tension built over the course of the story, then it didn't build that strongly for me. Although the release at the end did bring tears to my eyes.

The other two primary performances in the film are good, but perhaps not as nuanced as I might have expected. Philip Seymour Hoffman is very relaxed and "natural" as Father Flynn which sits well in this part. Flynn represents a new "kinder" clergy in the Catholic Church, as opposed to Streep's Aloysius who is straight out of Vatican I. Amy Adams is appropriately mealy in the role "caught in the middle". The locations of church, school, rectory, and nunnery (that's not the right word, help me here....) are all lovely and slightly tarnished if not actually dilapidated.


Doubt
by John Patrick Shanley
opened on Broadway in 2005
Film directed by Shanley opened in 2008
Cast: Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Viola Davis

Ghost Light Monday about Gospel Sunday

I've talked a little bit about my musical past--how I grew up in a church with a youth choir that sang contemporary Christian music (contemporary to the 1970s) and how much I loved getting away from that when I left home and discovered traditional choir repertoire.

Well, yesterday in my usually very traditional current church choir, we performed a service of all gospel and gospel-inspired music. Running the gamut from revival tent hymns like "Bringing in the Sheaves" to "I Know Where I've Been" from Hairspray, the service shows how wide ranging American religious music can be. The title of the concert comes from the hymn "Amazing Grace" which forms the starting point for the musical tradition and for the concert.

I actually happen to know something about the hymn "Amazing Grace." I once gave a program on the history of the hymn and it's author, John Newton. Newton was a British captain of a ship in the slave trade. He transported Africans from the Ivory Coast to the Caribbean and then transported rum or sugar cane from the Caribbean to England. At one point he was enslaved himself after being shipwrecked. This led to a religious awakening and his work as a curate (sort of an assistant minister in a parish church), and his support of the British abolitionist movement in the late 18th century.

Newton wrote the words to "Amazing Grace" sometime in the 1770s and they were put to an existing tune. One tidbit that I remember: the verse that begins "When we've been here ten thousand years" was not written by Newton, but appears in Harriet Beecher Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin." Whether she wrote the words or had heard them somewhere else is not known.

Anyway, I enjoyed my one Sunday a year venture back into contemporary Christian gospel, although I'll be glad to rehearse Brahms or Mendelssohn at choir rehearsal this Wednesday.

Ghost Light Monday--John Adams mini-series on DVD

Several weeks ago I viewed the film version of 1776 and I mentioned that I was going to watch the recent HBO mini-series John Adams and compare and contrast. Well, here it is.

The mini-series is really wonderful, due mostly to the strong performances of Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney. Each deserves the Emmy they won for these roles. There are particularly good when on screen together, which unfortunately becomes rarer and rarer and the story progresses.

The mini-series does not focus for long on the Continental Congress and the writing of the Declaration of Independence, so comparing to the musical 1776 would really be a conceit--although I will say both productions depict Adams as an irrantant and generally disliked by his Congressional colleagues. The delight for me in the mini-series is to learn more about Mr. Adams service to his country during its infancy, particularly his work in finding allies in the Revolutionary War.

The difficulty of daily life during the 18th century is aptly depicted throughout this series, particularly in showing the farming of the Adams family and in the (at times horrifically graphic) medical practices of the day.

There is a large cast of secondary characters, portrayed with varying degrees of success. Particularly lively is Tom Wilkinson's Ben Franklin.