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Showing posts with label sixties. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sixties. Show all posts
Friday, 22 October 2010
If you’ve been paying especially keen attention you’d know that I’m not the biggest fan of Gene Kelly. I think I’ve called him overly precise, and I won’t deny that some of my lack of interest centres on the fact that I generally loathe An American in Paris, but I’m digressing. If I had to pick a favourite Gene Kelly movie, it’d be one that he’s not even in – Hello, Dolly! I have a vaguely embarrassing love for Hello, Dolly! even though Nick despises it (oddly enough, I agree with an oddly large portion of his review, and I love it – go figure). Hello, Dolly! is based on a Broadway Musical which is in turn based on a Pulitzer Prize winning play – “The Matchmaker”. Its plot is simple, painstakingly so. Dolly Levi has been a widow for some time, and occupies her time by arranging things. She has her sights set on Horace Vandergelder who in turn has his eyes on Irene Molloy – a milliner. Horace is the guardian of his niece Ermengarde (what a a name), who’s in love with a starving artist of sorts Ambrose. Dolly pretends to set Horace up with Irene, sending him off to town.; though she's really trying to to put forth her own agenda. She in turn convinces Ermendgarde and Ambrose to go to town, along with Barnaby and Cornelius - two of Vandergelder's workers. All in all it's a musical clusterf*** of a situation.
The thing is, Barbra Streisand is (in theory) all wrong for the role. She’s about three decades too young for the role, because there’s no way that Barbra (two years after Funny Girl) is an aging widow of how many years. But, really, I don’t even care about the age thing, or the obvious lack of chemistry with Walter Matthau (we all know that Jack Lemmon was the superior member of The Odd Couple). Barbra can act and she can sing, but above all else – she can play funny, and that’s what so brilliant about her in Hello, Dolly!. It’s just one constant torrent of funny bits and she sells them excellently. With the exception of Matthau, the cast is quite good but Barbra steals the show.
Really, Hello, Dolly! doesn’t make much sense. The story is one of those ridiculous comedies that thoroughly amusing in its inane way, and I like that about it. It doesn’t have the strongest score (and the title song is oddly weak), but it’s well directed (yay, Gene Kelly) and well acted (yay Barbra). In fact “Put On Your Sunday Clothes” just may be one of the strongest ensemble musical numbers of all time. It has the sort of quotable quotes that make you roll your eyes and laugh and still think about their lucidity (case in point: “”). At its worst Hello, Dolly! is a kind of riduclous bauble; at its best Hello, Dolly! is easy watching – and I like to think of it at its best.
Ever seen the 1969 classic?
Monday, 9 August 2010
This was a bit of a silly question. The ever had be rolling my eyes. What to do? What to do? When in doubt look to Katharine Hepburn.
This is probably my favourite performance ever and this scene, though short, is just brilliant (remembered how I gushed about the film). Enjoy.
Monday, 19 July 2010
“What is truth in art? What is truth in cinema? If by truth you look for accuracy and period detail then The Lion in Winter will not be for you. If, on the other hand, you look for that deeper truth of the Human Condition then few films get closer to identifying it. Writer James Goldman takes a warring family with 20th century feelings and responses and places it firmly into the context 12th century royal politics. It’s an extraordinary achievement aided by a superb cast (Hepburn, O’Toole, Hopkins all at the top of their game), convincingly low key design and a terrific quasi-monastic score.”
Ben, of the irreverently named Runs Like A Gay wrote the above. He’s actually been lucky enough to take part in a production of the excellent play and I couldn’t agree more with his summation. As far as history dramas go The Lion in Winter may be little more than farce, but if it’s farce – it’s irresistible farce.
“What a desolation!”
Were one to line up the reasons – rationally as possible – as to the pros and cons of Anthony Harvey’s 1968 drama, the sound question one would be moved to ask is how the film managed to be a success. The fact is, The Lion in Winter has more going against it that for it. First off, it’s a historical drama. It’s nowhere near as expansive (thematically) as A Man For All Seasons and this Henry isn’t the one that most history buffs are interested in. Secondly, in the mere few days the film covers nothing particularly pertinent happens. In fact, were we moved to ask what any particular character has accomplished during the film’s runtime we may end up answering – nothing. And conversely, while the action is sparse the film is very “talk-y”, not exactly a prerequisite for a good (or enjoyable) film about the 12th century. Yet, The Lion in Winter defies these odds. The original stage production wasn’t much to shout about (or so I heard), but perhaps it’s the inclusion of our Lady Kate, Peter O’Toole and a newly discovered Anthony Hopkins that makes it such a success. Perhaps, the story was just more suited for the film. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I always marvel at it.
It’s some time during the 12th century and Henry is on the throne. His wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine, is imprisoned in Salisbury Tower. Henry has three sons (on screen; historically there were more) and he’s uncertain whom should be his successor. There’s the lion hearted Richard, the duplicitous but sage Geoffrey and the petulant John. It’s Christmas, though, and thus the family reunites for a few days. Unfortunately, festivity is low as Prince Philip is coming to Chignon to demand that this sister be married to the heir of the throne (whomever that may be) or returned to France. Princess Alais has been in England for some time, now acting as a concubine to the King – but a marriage, to anyone, seems dubious. Thus lies the state of affairs as The Lion in Winter opens. It would be a thorny task to say what happens within the next 120 minutes, and I don’t think I’d care to explain either. Lies will be told, games will be played, knives will be drawn (as will curtains, too), persons will be duped and of course it ends with goodbyes (yet, curiously, no tears). From the inception, the atmosphere of it all is striking. Look at the earlier incarnation of Henry’s life (the 1964 Becket). This set is not the same. Unlike its predecessors the courts of this incarnation are not spotless, but soiled and unkempt – like we’d expect from the period. The Queen’s robes are majestic, but not unblemished and unlike the 1964 piece the court is pervaded by the presence of animals – domestic and otherwise. It’s not the typical period piece, and it shows.
Tom of the eclectic Reinvention: The Journal of a Dog Lover, Book Reader, Movie Goer and Writer shares his thoughts on the film.
“At the heart of this deliciously medieval drama is Katharine Hepburn as Eleanor of Aquitaine, imprisoned queen of tempestuous Henry II (the roaring Peter O'Toole). This is the consummate portrayal by one of cinema's most brilliant actresses. Hepburn demonstrates a stunning ability to speak volumes with a word, a look, a tremble of emotion. In a single scene, sometimes with a single line of dialog, she goes from beautiful and vulnerable to ironic and witty to cunning and calculating.
Director Anthony Harvey and Screenwriter James Goldman provide Hepburn with the right environment and the beautiful language for Hepburn to play at her most wonderful. The Lion in Winter is at once a mystical and haunting historical epic, domestic comedy/drama, and pageant. Harvey lights his sets and moves his camera and creates a picture unique even among historical epics. Goldman's playful script switches moods and allegiances on a dime, and often winks at us with the comparisons between this royal family and modern soap opera. (Favorite line: Oh well, what family doesn't have its ups and downs?) This film is rich in dialog and intrigue, and is worth a fortnight of viewings.
One need not be familiar with the historical origins of this story. Details are deftly filled in, so that we may enjoy the battles between king and queen and their three power-hungry sons, as well as the rich detail of the design, and the soaring and beautiful musical score.”
In the same way that the 1968 Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf is a tug-of-war where one cannot choose between Burton’s quiet sadism or Liz’s loud fury one should not choose between Hepburn and O’Toole (although, naturally, I do). The two are evenly matched in this battle, in words and in talent and it’s no surprise that The Lion in Winter reaches its peak in these moment. Yet, what makes The Lion in Winter stand apart of any other film with two leads is that it’s backed up by an excellent excellent cast, each intent on having his day in the sun (or at least destroying a family member). The first words on screen? …come for me. It’s too easy for me to consider it incidental, for The Lion in Winter is really all about everyone intent on outmanoeuvring their peers. I’ll get it out of the way now, Jane Merrow’s Alais presents the film’s only clunker, the less said about her – the better. It’s more than her obvious inadequacy when measured against our Lady Kate but her foppishness makes the film just a little sluggish when she takes centre stage. But she’s surrounded by masters (or at least novices doing a good job of pretending – and isn’t that the same?), so it doesn’t hurt us much. I continue to marvel at the wondrous thing that was John Castle’s performance at the middle – Geoffrey. I still remain confused as to why this performance is so forgotten, and even more flummoxed as to Castle’s inability to make a large mark on film hereafter. Nigel Terry and a young Anthony Hopkins round out the trinity, with Hopkins being particularly moving opposite his Ms. Hepburn. His steely elegance reminds me of Russell Crow circa Gladiator.
Yojimbo, of Let’s Not Talk About Movies opines:
“This is red meat material, chewy and sinewy and full of juice and played by a cast of gourmands who relish the consuming—even Katherine Hepburn, who knew the value of stillness, knew when to tuck in and tear away at a juicy part. The cast, including a debuting Timothy Dalton whose entrance always evokes a smile (with his first ebullient shot not only does he show he deserves to play a King, but also play against Peter O’Toole!) makes the most of rich, if maybe a shade too contemporary, material by James Goldman-his personal best. That the film is so rich is due to the delicious script, and actors, as the other films of director Anthony Harvey are relatively bloodless. It’s an event film, with both Peter O’Toole and Hepburn at the top of their roaring games, and Anthony Hopkins, young bull that he was, giving a glimpse of the glowering powers he would bring to the screen.”
Like him, I too appreciate the script as one of the film’s highlight. If I had to single out a script as the best of all time – I’d single out The Lion in Winter in a heartbeat. The lines roll off the tongue like syrup, anachronistic at times but striking nonetheless. As we continue on the journey through the top ten we reach films where the faults are less and less, and ultimately I forgive Jane Merrow’s poor showing in the film because she sells her final pieces with O’Toole so sincerely I wonder if it took time for her to find her talent (or perhaps convection of talent from O’Toole and Hepburn),. But then, when I remember I return to the man and his wife. O’Toole and Hepburn give my two favourite performances of the decade and the film is a masterpiece. When it ends he turns to his queen and says “I hope we never die.” She answers without sentiment, “So do I.” With these performances I warrant that they won’t. It falls at #6 on my list of favourites.
What are your thoughts on Kate and Peter here? Are you a fan of the script? ...of the movie?
Sunday, 11 July 2010
As far as sixties musicals go Hello, Dolly is too often forgotten. Just a few year after Streisand's debut in Funny Girl she is decades too young for the role of the personable widow with a penchant for minding everyone's business, but with all its clunky plot points I still think it's a whole lot of fun. Streisand is no small reason for that. "So Long Dearie" doesn't resonate as much as softer numbers like "Before the Parade Passes By", but it's one of the most hilarious cinematic musical numbers I've seen. Enjoy.
Saturday, 3 July 2010
It’s so strange how we end up getting our own ideas of what films really mean. Even when it’s not some giant mindf*** like Von Trier or Lynch film there’s still – quite often – no telling who’s “right” and “who’s wrong” in the argument of what X film is about. The Graduate is the kind of film that could imply much. In 500 Days of Summer Tom confessed to a complete misreading of the film – and judging from his character, I suppose we can all assume what that was. Still, I’m never sure if The Graduate is as wholly cynical as it sometimes pretends to be.
Emmy winning sound-designer (I know, right?) Yojimbo of Let’s Not Talk About Movies offers some insight below.
"40 years after the fact, The Graduate is a better film than when first released. Taken apart from the flush of the “Summer of Love” and a naïve association with “revolutionary” “stick-it-to-the-Establishment” behavior, it can now be seen for what it is: two kids in the process of becoming their parents. Elaine Robinson, the object of Ben’s ADD affection, is the product of a marriage of convenience, her Mother abandoning her dreams for domesticity, and now Ben Braddock has whisked her off in a similar moment of heat without thought. Meet the new beau, same as the old beau. Brilliantly, Nichols holds on that last shot of the two rebels as the adrenaline seeps away and the 'Now what’s' sink in. The Graduate is better—and more relevant--than ever."
That’s a reading I wasn’t going to come up with by little own self, though that “now what” look at the end always roused me. Even in the original review for The Graduate I was harping on it. But, it’s the uncertainty – of their looks, and the meanings – that adds to the specialness of the ending. I really am whimsical and I like to think a little more positively than Yojimbo there. All evidence seems to imply that the two are headed down a loveless marriage, and then I think “Who knows?” Maybe they will be the unlikely success, and no better way to try that than away from their toxic parents. It’s weird that I end up starting with the ending, though. It’s not the first thing that’s thought of when persons hear of the The Graduate – is it?
It’s weird how Anne Bancroft has become, in a de facto way, the thing that many persons associate The Graduate with. That leg covered in that stocking (which wasn’t even hers to begin with) is certainly alluring, but as strong a performance as she gives Bancroft is just one of the many supporting characters revolving around Dustin Hoffman’s Benjamin Braddock.
Doesn’t that name read like something we’d get out of a comic book, a la Archie Andrews or Jughead Jones? I’ll always think of Benjamin as Hoffman’s magnum opus (we’ll be discussing the 67 race at the end of the month for The Actor Factor) Still, if I’m to take the words of the fellow cinephiles who’ve admitted to loving the The Graduate into account, it would seem that their thoughts are not far off from mine. The Mad Hatter of the consistently intuitive The Dark of the Matinee weighs in, and his thoughts are not a far cry from Yojimbo.
"What The Graduate does best, is tap into the restlessness that seeps into our conscience when we’re unsure of our next move. From a very young age, we’re taught the road map of life: 'Go to college, get a job, get married, have kids.'The problem is, if we complete one of those steps and find ourselves unsure of what to do next, we get antsy…and prone to some very bad decision-making. That’s what drives young Benjamin in this movie, and you can tell even he isn’t certain that he’s doing the right this. He drifts from scene-to-scene with a scared expression, and doesn’t live his life so much as he navigates it.The Graduate wants to teach us that there’s nothing wrong with not knowing the answer. Many of us get to one of these milestones in life – graduation, wedding, kids – and find ourselves thinking “now what?” (For a great example of this, pay attention to the final shot of the film). The trick is to take a moment to ourselves, and think things through. This introspection is what the film wants us to remember, and it’s something young Benjamin never seems to want to do."
I like Hatter’s thoughts on the film’s introspection. I’d still claim it as one of cinema’s brilliant comedies even if it’s more of a “things done funnily” that a “funny things done” situation. In fact, if you get too introspective you might find that The Graduate is too wistful underneath its wan setting and ridiculous characters. Nichols is probably not one we would call an auteur, but consider his film against his one from just a year before – Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. It’s another ostensibly ridiculous piece that has some disturbing connotations beneath. Just like Martha and George are keen on attaining diversions in their lives to ignore their obvious aches Benjamin prefers to meander from place to place instead of making a conscious effort to “do” something. After all, you can’t be inadvertently guilty of a crime? When The Graduate takes that turning point (the first of many) that has Benjamin pursuing Elaine I’m reminded of a Stephen Sondheim quote “I chose and my world was shaken, so what? The choice may have been mistaken…the choosing was not.” I think it’s the same with Benjamin. I’m still unsure if Benjamin’s choice was the “right” one, but there’s some credibility to be found in the fact that he does make a decision. Despite my general moroseness I’m not intent on approaching the situation as bleak as Yojimbo. It’s probably because Dustin Hoffman is so affable, but I’m rooting for Ben all the way. Like me, Dan leaves room for either side of the coin:
Part of the appeal of Mike Nichols The Graduate comes from when you first discover it. It has a timeless sensibility - life at a crossroads - and it beautifully encompasses the almost surreal realisation of living outside the comfort zone of childhood, of school institutions, of parents and teachers instructing you what to do. The Graduate is life when the warm, safe environment of childhood has disappeared, and adulthood has suddenly been thrust upon you. I suppose, for me, I felt like Ben Braddock when I first saw The Graduate. There’s a great shot of Dustin Hoffman floating in the pool. His father asks him what he is doing. Ben replies: “Well, I would say that I’m just drifting. Here in the pool.” “Why?” asks his father. “It’s very comfortable just to drift here,” says his son. The brilliance of Mike Nichols’ film is in how he offers that guiding light to this twenty-something conundrum. Enter Mrs Robinson.
I’ve only recently discovered Dan’s Top10Films.co.uk and it’s a blog that’s becoming a favourite. I love the way that both he and The Mad Hatter notice the drifting that’s going on with Ben. It makes me think that perhaps the jury isn’t really that split on what The Graduate is really about after all. I’m afraid I just can’t do it justice when it comes to a second review, but that doesn’t make it any less laudable. It’s still an excellent satire/comedy/social drama…or whatever the hell you want to call it.
Here it is at #9…coming closer to the top with 8 more to go. What do you remember when you think of the The Graduate?
Monday, 28 June 2010
There’s Nothing Like It: Movie-wise, Love-wise, laugh-wise or otherwise-wise
0 comments Posted by 2011 at 10:54
"What makes The Apartment great isn’t just the talent involved; it’s the encompassing grandeur of the collective effort. Wilder’s natural wit and charm exude the tale of these two lost souls. While Lemmon and MacLaine entrance the viewer with their dynamic chemistry, and down to earth personas. Aided by the perfect timing of MacMurray as the evil Mr. Sheldrake. And, of course, a script so heartfelt, one could only dream of writing it."
That essentially sums it up, a script one could only dream of writing…but you know I’m wont to get loquacious. The original poster and tagline for The Apartment always amuses me (click on the picture adjacent for an enlargement - the post title is a derivative), and really it’s a claim that’s a bit brave. But, I think it’s accurate for the most part because – really – The Apartment is unlike little that appears on the screen movie-wise or otherwise-wise.
The concept of The Apartment isn’t original because of its focus on a heroine involved in an extramarital affair neither is the originality stemming from the fact that its hero isn’t as assertively “mannish” as conventions would purport. In fact, Wilder’s decision to make Shirley MacLaine’s Fran into something a suicidal simp realising the errors of her ways in the middle of the film is more compliant with societal norms of the era than dissenters were willing to admit. What makes The Apartment so revolutionary (to me, at least) is its dedication to the sort of subtle and almost incidental comedy that is unlike most things we normally see. Chances are, if The Apartment was ever remade (god forbid) producers would either turn it into an unapologetic introspective, sentimental drama or decide to do an about-face and turn it into some bawdy attempt at serious slapstick. Naturally, both attempts would be failure. Even though The Apartment seems to exist as the usual black and white comedy of manners with a penchant for melancholia its end result of discovering the sweet humour in even the most dire of circumstances is surely something worthy of praise and something unlike most of what we’d normally find on the screen – either big or small.
Still, even though every Wilder films seems to have a decidedly Wilder-esque stamp on it (it doesn’t roll of the tongue quite as nicely as Capra-esque, though) The Apartment impresses me more than even the more oft-cited Some Like It Hot. The Apartment’s humour depends to a large part, almost completely – I would say – on the success of its cast. It’s the very reason why I cited Lemmon’s performance as one for the books (even if that list was made a bit arbitrarily, the top 6 hold up). Lemmon’s Baxter is more introspective than audiences seem to remember, I’ll always cite Lemmon as the master when it comes to facial comedy – which is a dubious phrase itself, but I do prefer subtle movements of the face to the more physical stuff (which is, of course, why Chaplin is not a favourite of mine). I know Nick has his issues with Lemmon, and I’ll admit he’s more comfortable playing a specific type than he realises – I still fall hook, line and sinker for his shtick every time and no place else more unequivocally than in The Apartment. Yojimbo goes into it a little bit more with his thoughts on the films specialness.
"The situation drips with irony: an insurance company, where the exec's juggle statistics and mistresses with no moral compasses. And the hierarchy of executive structure is paralleled to the status of folks in their private lives: the mistresses are treated with contempt if they begin to interfere with the home turf. And Baxter is literally left out in the cold every night, as the executives hedonistically burn through relationships that Baxter doesn't have the roots to start. It's only when a crisis occurs that Baxter begins to grow a conscience over the moral compromises he's making and providing. It seems like a fairy-tale today with current rubber-board rooms of the business-world filled with sociopaths. But, at the tale end of the 50's and the concerns of the world moving away from our boys in khaki to the boys in grey-flannel, it was a cautionary tale. Revolutions of all sorts in the '60's and plagues, both sexual and financial, in the 70's have made the film seem...one shudders at the word... "quaint."
But, that doesn't affect its wit, its insight, its charm, or high entertainment quotient. As a film it's a perfectly built comedic construction, a bon-bon exquisitely made and wrapped, with just a hint of bitterness at its core. And in the running gag that permeates the conversation of the film, it delivers its bellyful of laughs with no disconnect to the head, on its way to the heart, intellectually-wise."
Though I’m not one to lambast Elizabeth Taylor’s first bid for Oscar, I still wish Shirley MacLaine could have taken the prize. She has the ability to emanate that feeling of “lead actressishness” even though I’m sure that she’d be pushed into the supporting category if the film opened today. If Lemmon is responsible for keeping the comedy, MacLaine is responsible for not making it a tragedy. Her suicide attempt manages to play out (marginally, I will admit) as realistic and not some maudlin attempt at faux-sympathy. It’s because Marge isn’t intent on ensuring that we leave the film in love with her. Thus, by downplaying the very thing that’s her ace in the hole (another Wilder film I’m ignorant of) she ends up being even more attractive even if she’s self destructive – but perhaps that’s the very thing that makes her so attractive…
The Apartment becomes even more atypical when I consider that all the craziness is happening around Christmas time. It’s not exactly the seasonal picker upper we would anticipate. The Apartment is one of those films that make me feel lucky to experience the “classics”. Even though four films 1980 and before show up higher on my list of favourites, The Apartment just screams classic. And yes, there’s nothing like it – movie-wise, love-wise or otherwise-wise. It’s #10 on my list of favourites…
The countdown to the top begins, The Apartment is #10…9 more to go. What do you think of Wilder's piece?
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
ometimes, even I’m confused as to why I call some directors my favourites. Case in point – David Lean. Sometimes, I think I’m more besotted with the idea of David Lean that David Lean himself. Granted, I’ve never seen The Bridge on the River Kwai (which is loathsome, I know - stop judging me). Lawrence of Arabia is a technical marvel – but one which I do not love. A Passage to India is an excellent adaptation, but both it and its source leave me confused and Ryan’s Daughter is better left unremembered. It is only the oft forgotten Summertime (the Kate H. vehicle) and his other tale of lost love that I cite as necessities of my cinematic favourites. And yet, even though I would readily mention Doctor Zhivago as a favourite of mine I never feel particularly happy as I watch. Sure, it’s a tragedy – but perhaps it’s the fact that despite its length Doctor Zhivago is steadily on its way to a tragic ending that cannot be averted.
I love the foreshadowing in this shot, it looks as if Christie is looking at the couple...but she hasn't even met them yet
On the DVD for Doctor Zhivago Omar Sharif (what a talented man) spoke of it being one of the last epics from MGM, and it sure is a good way to go out because it certainly is epic. The film is based on Boris Pasternak's novel of the same name about a tale of tragic love in Russia. The scope of the film is daunting and the pace is definitely not rushed. Yet, there is nothing in Doctor Zhivago I’d call extraneous. David Lean is such a personal director; every shot is filled with such intimacy – the man knew how to excel in technicalities. But Doctor Zhivago is not devoid of emotion. In fact, the story’s emotional appeal is probably its ace. True, the basic story is rather simple – a love triangle between Sharif, Julie Christie and Geraldine Chaplin. But it’s not typical in the least. It’s less concerned with the machinations of the triangle and more interested in the fate of the other characters. And it’s a strongpoint of the film. In addition to the excellent threesome, we have Tom Courtenay, Alec Guinness, Rod Steiger and Ralph Richardson. True, with the most screen time Sharif comes across as strongest (what a shame he was ignored by the Academy) but Lean wants everyone to have their time to shine – and with so much time on his hands, he manages to do so.
Most people probably know of Doctor Zhivago through its score, arguably the most popular film score – and really it is that good. It accents the film with a bittersweet tone that runs throughout, and it’s the same way with the actual film. If I really sit down and ponder on it, Doctor Zhivago is really quite depressing – two important deaths occur within the space of five minutes (one is not even on screen) and the thing we love called closure is never really forthcoming. In fact, after three hours of waiting I can understand why some would be less than pleased at the outcome of the "romance". But Lean is not as interested in giving us a “movie” as much as he wants to give us glimpses into the lives of people he treats with such honesty I wouldn’t deny them as authentic humans despite their obvious artificiality (they are literary characters, alone). I’m rarely moved to watch it in its entirety (though doing so last Friday was quite satisfying). But, like I remember it in spots, I think of lovely moments within the tragedy of Doctor Zhivago and I’m content. Like Julie Christie’s loveliness in a red dress, Omar Sharif’s son in a small role, an adlibbed slap from Rod Steiger, or a look of happiness as Sharif spots someone important while on a train. True – everything is leading up to that inevitable decisive tragedy – but I still think of Doctor Zhivago as a near perfect piece of art. It’s not any less worthy because it’s not pleasing on first glance. Below the surface there’s much to appreciate. It appears at #25 on my list of favourite films, for though it confuses me at the end of the day I know "...it is a gift..."
Listen to a sample of the score...
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Months ago when I listed some of my favourite musical scenes I highlighted an under-loved gem from the underrated 1964 musical Mary Poppins. Mary Poppins is on the obvious levels a comedy about the clashes between Mary and everyone she meets but the [few] emotional juggernauts are what speak to me. When she shakes that snow globe and begins to sing that “lullaby” of sorts “Feed the Birds” represents my favourite moment of the film, as Julie croons and we see Jane Darwell in her last screen performance [a cameo] there’s that sense of contentment and satisfaction; childish but true.
Julie’s performance has become undervalued in recent times, I listed it as one of my favourite Best Actress – it’s a list of nepotism, not of skill – but that shouldn’t make you think that Julie isn’t acting here. It’s a copout to just say that she does all that is asked of her, she does, but it’s not that simple. Julie Andrews has a charm that does not come as easy as she makes it seems. On paper Mary Poppins could be silly, I certainly found to the books to be thus, but Julie Andrews is a star – not in the Elizabeth Taylor sense – but one nevertheless. And it is her star quality that makes Mary Poppins works.
She doesn’t work completely on her own though. I never was too enthralled with Dick Van Dyke’s Bert, and I often found myself forwarding through his solo numbers when I was younger, but upon recent viewing it’s not as a annoying as I remembered. Of course, he’s no Julie – but who is? The Banks are played wonderfully by David Tomlinson and especially Glynis John who lends a perceptible comedic timing that should not go unvalued. It is a pity she didn’t do more film work. Then, of course, the Banks children. It’s so simple to write them off, but they [Karen Dotrice and Matthew Garber] lend a perfect sense of bewilderment, astonishment and wonder at seeing Mary’s theatrics, and the two of them along with Dick and Julie make us believe even the most dimensional things seem real.
Mary Poppins is light and fun, you could always try to find some hidden subtext and of course the aged theme of childhood remains true. I find it delightful that it earned a Best Picture nomination, even if some will look back with disdain. Mary Poppins is a wonderful film, and above all else it introduced the world to Maria Von Trapp – the singer. It’s #100.
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