The Celluloid Stage

Color Me Grey: A Passionate Defense of Black and White

2013-08-11T21:01:00.001-04:00

Black and White has me bewitched, but colorization just leaves me bothered and bewildered.

When Ted Turner began the colorization craze back in the 1980s, the late Roger Ebert had this to say: "There are few issues in the area of film preservation that arouse more anger than the issue of colorization. That is because it is an issue involving taste, and, to put it bluntly, anyone who can accept the idea of the colorization of black and white films has bad taste. The issue involved is so clear, and the artistic sin of colorization is so fundamentally wrong, that colorization provides a pass-fail examination. If you 'like' colorized movies, it is doubtful that you know why movies are made, or why you watch them."

To play devil's advocate for a moment, Ebert's words came from a time when the process was in its infancy, back when blurry pastel colors were inconsistently painted on videotape transfers of black and white material. Classic films like Casablanca and Yankee Doodle Dandy were among the earliest movies colorized, and the results were less than spectatular. Such early examples of colorization are completely unwatchable by today's standards, but it must be said that the process has come a long way since then. Companies like Legend Films can nowadays put a greater range of colors onto digital transfers of black and white film, and are able to apply a much greater degree of detail onto each frame, the outcomes being far more convincing (yet ultimately no more realistic) than those done three decades ago.

But my "praise" for the process ends there. While interesting when applied to historical war footage, such as the attack on Pearl Harbor for instance, the use of colorization has primarily been applied to the world of entertainment. And that's where things get prickly. Many of those creatively involved with the making of classic black and white film and television are no longer with us, and many who are still around have universally denounced the process from the getgo. Prominent Hollywood figures like George Lucas, John Huston, Anjelica Huston, James Stewart and Woody Allen were among the loudest of those against the process, as was critic Roger Ebert.

The advent of DVD and digital technology caused the issue of colorization to rear its head once more to a severe degree. Fox's library of Shirley Temple films were recolorized for DVD, as were perennial classics like It's a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street. Fortunately, in those cases, the studios also included restored black and white versions. The same thing also happened in 2007 when a number of vintage The Three Stooges shorts were issued by Columbia Tri-Star.

“The best thing about this DVD release is it gives the consumer the ultimate choice,” said an executive about The Three Stooges DVDs. “They can watch the very best, the finest restored image of the black-and-white version, or watch the new colorized version and switch instantaneously between the two.”

Not that everyone (myself included) saw it that way. Director Sam Raimi, a long time Stooges fan, was unimpressed. “I don't think they should mess with black and white," he said. "I think they should just leave it as they are and try to preserve them as best they can. I feel like it’s an artistic interpretation that’s not anybody’s right to make except the director’s.”

George Lucas concurred about the Stooges, and suggested that color would ruin the humor. “Would color distract from their comedy and make it not as funny anymore?” he said. “Maybe just the fact that they’re in black and white makes it funny, because their humor is dated...by putting it in black and white, it puts it in a context where you can appreciate it for what it was. But you try to make it in full living color and try to compare it to a Jim Carrey movie, then it’s hard for young people to understand. Because you’re then thinking you’re comparing apples to apples, when you’re not. You’re comparing apples to oranges. I’m saying it’s not fair to the artist.”

Stefan Kanfer put forward a similar theory when discussing the unsurpassed legacy of Lucille Ball and I Love Lucy. "The comediens to whom Lucy has been compared, those who achieved iconic status worldwide...all capered before the Technicolor era. Even Bob Hope, who was still filming into the 1980s, is best remembered for his pre-color work in such films as My Favorite Brunette and the Road pictures. The clowns who came to prominence after 1960, when color became the norm rather than the exception, have by and large been supernovas, glowing brilliantly - and then vanishing into the void. There is something incompatible about humor and color; the palette calls attention to itself, instead of the jokes...Lucy stays eternally comic because of the vital, frenzied, ireeproducible years when the Ball of Fire got it all down in black and white."

There is great truth in what Kanfer writes. Fans of Lucille Ball will of course be aware that her television career carried on for nearly three more decades after I Love Lucy ended its run. From 1963 onwards, her shows were filmed in color, and were broadcast in color from 1965 onwards. Yet as funny and wonderful as The Lucy Show, Here's Lucy and her color films and specials were, they're hardly responsible for her legendary status today. Ask any casual fan what they remember Lucille Ball for, and the response will be this: I Love Lucy. It isn't her movies we reflect back on day to day. It isn't her subsequent television shows, both of which are rarely seen on television anymore, that sustain her in our memories. It's I Love Lucy in all it's black and white glory that keeps her burning eternally in the minds of her audience.

Which makes the prospect of colorizing this most sacred of sitcoms all the more troublesome. To date, three episodes have been colorized at different times, and all three of which will be available this fall on a new DVD set. Proponents of the process argue that it's necessary in order to sustain her legacy for younger generations, many of whom have shown reluctance at watching anything in black and white. But if we're going to go so far as to add artificial color to every episode in order to appease the masses, why stop there? Many people still may hesitate to watch it because they're not familiar with the time period or actors involved. Should every episode be remade with Kim Kardashian as Lucy and Paris Hilton as Ethel in order to really draw in the younger crowd? It's a fine line that is more than likely to be crossed (give them an inch, they'll take a mile), so best not to mess with it at all.

A colorization proponent recently tried to argue with me by saying that viewers will still have a choice to see it in black and white if they so choose. That may be entirely true, but eventually, if colorization takes off even more, that choice will become all the more difficult to make. Whereas many releases include both versions in the same set, Sony Pictures Home Entertainment took a different approach when releasing the early seasons of Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie, issuing alternate b/w and colorized sets that had to be purchased separately. All well and good, except that the black and white releases eventually vanished from store shelves entirely, with only the color copies remaining. True, those black and white sets are available from online retailers, but that's about the only place they remain available. Try streaming those early seasons online: colorized only. Try buying the complete series boxsets for both shows: only the colorized episodes included. And good luck if you live outside the United States, where only the colorized versions were released. Where's the choice in that, I ask you? There's almost no way to view those episodes as filmed and intended nowadays without putting effort into it, and it shouldn't have to be that way. If there were truly a choice involved, both would be available equally. But that is not the case.

Even in situations where color reference photos and footage exist, and surviving costumes/props are still around for additional reference, opponents of colorization argue that it's still a bogus process. Costumes, props, set coloring and makeup were not chosen for black and white projects based on their color, but rather how they photographed in black and white. Roger Ebert even went so far as to say that, were colorization artists truly concerned with matching colors as closely as possible, that actors faces would be colored light green in order to match the makeup necessary to photograph fleshtones more accurately in black and white. There is also the question of the lighting differences for black and white vs. color.

"Black and white movies present the deliberate absence of color," argued Ebert. "This makes them less realistic than color films (for the real world is in color). They are more dreamlike, more pure, composed of shapes and forms and movements and light and shadow. Color films can simply be illuminated. Black and white films have to be lighted. With color, you can throw light in everywhere, and the colors will help the viewer determine one shape from another, and the foreground from the background. With black and white, everything would tend toward a shapeless blur if it were not for meticulous attention to light and shadow, which can actually create a world in which the lighting creates a heirarchy of moral values."

Even when the technology improved, Ebert remained one of the staunchest opponents, and his two basic arguments remained the same. "1: Black and white is a legitimate and beautiful artistic choice in motion pictures, creating feelings and effects that cannot be obtained any other way. 2: 'Colorization' does not produce color movies, but only sad and sickening travesties of black and white movies, their lighting destroyed, their atmospheres polluted, their moods altered almost at random by the addition of an artificial layer of coloring that is little more than legalized vandalism."

And despite such improvements, there is no doubt that colorization still looks, and will always look, artificial. No matter how much time invested, and no matter how talented the artists involved, it will never be able to accurately reflect the way color is filmed.

In the end, it's all about money, just like everything in show business. But what is popular seldom lines up with what is right, and people have a habit of making bad choices if given alternatives. The simple fact of the matter is that there shouldn't be any choice to begin with. If someone has an issue watching black and white, that's their problem. And when people have a problem, the thing to do is work on it. Take the time and let someone explain why black and white is beautiful, and learn to love it for what it is. Don't expect the entire world to constantly bow down and alter everything to suit your limited taste. Entitlement and narrow-mindedness run rampant nowadays and such attitudes should not be reinforced.

I'm all for progress in the world of society and civil rights and what have you. But this is different. This is art we're talking about. Art that is a reflection of its time and needs to be respected as such. Learn to love black and white. Open your eyes and absorb its beauty. And if you truly can't stomach watching something the way it was filmed and intended, then you have no business watching it at all.

Sources:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Film_colorization.

Ebert, Roger. "'Casablanca' Gets Colorized, but Don't Play It Again, Ted." Web. 11 Aug. 2013. http://www.rogerebert.com/interviews/casablanca-gets-colorized-but-dont-play-it-again-ted

Kanfer, Stefan. "A Marx Sister." Ball of Fire: The Tumultuous Life and Comic Art of Lucille Ball. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2003. Print.

Riding, Alan. "Film Makers Are Victors In a Lawsuit on Coloring." N.p., 25 Aug. 1991. Web.

"Stooges DVD Revives Colorization Debate." TODAY.com. Associated Press, n.d. Web. 11 Aug. 2013. <http://www.today.com/id/5651949>.

Lucy & Desi: The Conception and Legacy of a Turgid Biography

2013-07-29T23:29:00.001-04:00

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When Lucille Ball passed away on April 26th, 1989 at the age of 77, the entire world grieved the loss of everyone’s favorite funny lady. In response to her death, everything Lucy related took a huge upsurge in popularity. CBS’s already popular I Love Lucy videotapes were flying off the shelves, reruns were bringing in sensational ratings, and memorabilia were fast becoming collector’s items. But while the world was in love with the show, not everyone knew as much about Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz as they did Lucy and Ricky Ricardo.

Such was the thought that occurred to producer Larry Thompson, who decided to produce a telefilm in 1990 chronicling the early years of Lucy and Desi’s relationship leading up to the creation of I Love Lucy. Not only was it an opportunity to educate the public on the private lives of America’s favorite couple, it was also a chance for Thompson to provide what he felt would be a tribute to the recently departed Lucille and her ex-husband Desi, who died of lung cancer in 1986.

Doing a biographical film for a well-known celebrity is always a gamble, as it’s very difficult for even the most gifted of actors to inhabit all the qualities of a person so ingrained on the public consciousness. It’s even more challenging to create an effective illusion when big name actors are called upon to play the big names portrayed in the film. So Thompson decided the time was right to find some fresh talent to bring Lucy and Desi to life.

"In light of the fact that so many people in America and around the world have such an image of what these people look like, we'd like to cast people who don't bring their own fame to the role," said Thompson. A well-known face "would get in the way" of audience acceptance of the cast, he said. ''We don't need big names. We already have the two biggest stars in TV history on our marquee: Desi and Lucy Arnaz.”

Casting calls were held in Los Angeles, Miami and New York on July 16th, 18th and 20th, respectively. More than 1,000 hopefuls turned up at the three calls, every type of Lucy and Desi imaginable: tall, short, young, old, heavy, skinny. Even those who knew they didn’t stand a chance showed up just to say they were there.

The casting calls certainly generated much interest and publicity, but ultimately didn’t fetch the hoped for results. "I [got] calls from everything from a woman who said she was Lucy incarnate and had to play the part, to a woman from Australia who wanted directions to my office," Thompson said, who mostly learned what he didn’t want from the sessions. Despite his desire for unknowns, he realized that, more likely than not, professionals would be needed. Having a hunch this would be necessary, Thompson had earlier arranged private interviews with 29 well-known actresses as a safety net.

Among the stable of pros waiting in the wings was 38 year-old Frances Fisher, best remembered today for playing Ruth DeWitt-Bukater in James Cameron's Titanic. Fisher's angular features not only bore a certain resemblance to Lucille Ball, she was also a redhead…a natural redhead. For her, playing Lucille Ball would be realizing a dream role.

Fisher had first been intrigued by the idea of playing Ball back in 1982, when a photographer had commented on her physical resemblance to the comedienne. “It was the first time I realized there was a similarity,” said Fisher. “Over the years, when one of her old movies came on TV, I’d watch it. I’d read whatever I could find about her. I got it into my head I’d like to play her one day. I was fascinated by this woman.” Although she and Ball never met, Fisher did entertain the idea of introducing herself. “I wanted to tell her I wanted to play her story, but that would’ve been presumptuous.”

Despite the open casting calls, Fisher had the distinction of being the first actress interviewed for the role. “When CBS said they were doing the movie, I went back to the same photographer and was made up to look like Lucy in the 1940s and ‘50s. I was the first one called because of my enthusiasm.”

That enthusiasm paid off. In October of 1990, Larry Thompson concluded that Frances should be his Lucy, and thus his leading lady was cast. “I wanted to find someone who looked the part and also had the vulnerability and comedic ability,” said Thompson. For him, that was Fisher.

For his leading man, 27 year old Maurice Benard, best known at the time as Nico Kelly on the popular soap opera All My Children, was selected to play Desi. John Wheeler, who had appeared opposite the real Lucy in Mame as well as in an episode of Here’s Lucy, was chosen to play William Frawley, while Robin Pearson Rose donned the schlumpy bathrobe of Ethel Mertz to portray Vivian Vance. Veteran director Charles Jarrott, meanwhile, was assigned directorial duties.

Wheeler wasn’t the only cast member who had worked with or known Lucille in real life. Jim Brochu, who had befriended Ball in her later years and penned the book Lucy in the Afternoon, played Max, while Lucille’s Life With Lucy co-star Larry Anderson was cast as Percy.

The film itself takes place on September 8th, 1951, the day the very first I Love Lucy episode was filmed. As everyone anxiously prepares for the show, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz frequently pause and gaze reminiscently into space, each pause leading to a series of flashbacks that detail how the couple first met, the trials and tribulations of their romance, and the actions that led to them joining forces to do television. For all the ups and downs of their relationship that the film dramatizes, it ends on a high note: Lucille and Desi waving enthusiastically at the audience as the camera freeze frames, with the obligatory TV movie subtitle informing us of how successful I Love Lucy became. The ending was deliberately open-ended, as Larry Thompson envisioned making two more films chronicling the further adventures of Lucy and Desi if this one proved successful.

Unfortunately, despite the pedigree of those involved with the production, controversy about the film had already begun even prior to its development. Lucie Arnaz and Desi Arnaz Jr. had initially approached CBS prior to their mother’s passing about doing a biographical film about Desi Arnaz. A script was written and underwent extensive rewrites by Lucie’s husband, Larry Luckinbill, but CBS turned down the offer. Luckinbill then joined forces with his manager Larry Thompson, and the two of them again tried to sell CBS on the idea. CBS was uninterested, however, in doing a film strictly about Desi. They were more interested in pursuing a story about both Lucy and Desi. It wasn’t until after Lucille’s death that Luckinbill and Thompson returned to CBS and agreed to a story dealing with Lucy and Desi’s relationship. However, Lucie Arnaz learned that she would not have final script approval, and withdrew her support for the idea. Luckinbill and Thompson parted ways, and it appeared as if the project was dead.

Imagine Lucie’s shock, therefore, when she opened Variety not long afterwards to find that Thompson was proceeding with the project on his own. It was all the more upsetting due to CBS having given her the distinct impression that no film would be produced without her consent and involvement. “I totally freaked,” said Arnaz. “I felt CBS would not have done this. I felt raped, to say the least.”

Arnaz felt even worse after reading an early draft of William Luce and Cynthia A. Cherbak’s screenplay, which she found “shallow” and “extraordinarily biased” in making her mother a hero and her father a villain. “I just thought it wasn't enough,” added Lucie. “I wanted to see a deeper story. I wanted to see what made these people tick.”

She immediately arranged a meeting with CBS President Jeff Sagansky to try and get him to call off production. “Don’t you think they deserve better than this?” Arnaz asked tearfully, handing him the script. Unfortunately for Lucie, it was too late. CBS informed her that it would be cost prohibitive to buy Thompson out of his production commitment and that the film would go ahead as planned.

Though Lucie continued to make her grievances known, she was careful to mention that she held Sagansky blameless, given that the project had been given the greenlight by his predecessors Kim LeMasters and Pat Faulstich. It was important that Lucie not tread too hard on any toes at CBS due to her starring role in the dramedy Sons and Daughters airing on the network. “I’d like to tell all 1,200 people with Nielsen boxes to please watch,” she said with forced diplomacy. “I would like to see CBS get a great rating on this movie, make a fortune, and then spend it on scripts for our series. I’d like to tell the other 40 million people, however, that there is more to this story – and someday somebody will tell it right.” (For the record, Sons and Daughters lasted a mere 7 episodes)

Desi Arnaz Jr. also made it clear that he was on his sister’s side. “This project is not authorized by our family, and to defend our position or say anything about it would validate the film, which we have no interest in doing.”

In spite of all the negative publicity generated by the Arnaz children, Thompson boldly stood by his production through it all. He proudly boasted that it was a “truthful but loving” depiction of Lucy and Desi’s life together, and casually handwaved Lucie’s critcisms. “We are telling a factual story. If we were to tell it differently than how I told it, it would be untrue. I think I told the truth in a loving way. I have the fantasy that she and the rest of the family will eventually see it and they will like it.”

Frances Fisher, though aware of Lucie and Desi Jr.’s concerns, chose to keep her distance and focus on the part as best as she knew how. “I approached it as I would any role,” she said. “I tried to perceive what she was all about. We’re storytellers, we’re not doing a documentary. All we’re doing is interpreting a story. Nobody but Lucille Ball knew what really went on. We approached it with respect and admiration. We all loved Lucille Ball.”

Not that she didn’t sympathize with the Arnaz children’s defensiveness of their parents. “I feel very protective about Lucille Ball. I want it to be done right, and as a tribute to her, because she was such an amazing woman. All I can say is, I did it with the best intentions and with a lot of love.”

Fisher admitted to being most nervous about the reaction to her recreating I Love Lucy moments. “My only concern were the portions of the movie where I play Lucy Ricardo. That’s the Lucille Ball people know. That’s how they remember her. I knew that if I didn’t catch the essence of that, the public would shoot me down.”

Thompson continued to defend his position all throughout production and promotion of the film, which was being billed as a “fascinating, kiss and tell biography” by the network. “I’ve been a fan of I Love Lucy all my life. I happen to think the CBS movie is a loving tribute done with taste and style. After the show airs, I think the American public will continue to love Lucy and Ricky Ricardo, but they will also now love Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz because they will know more about them."

CBS broadcast the film on February 10th, 1991. In spite of Thompson’s pride over the film and despite Fisher’s best intentions, the reception was less than positive critically. People magazine felt the “bitter bio-flick” was “nicely photographed and costumed” and carried “considerable nostalgic weight behind it” but deemed the performances “terrible.” It also criticized “the clumsy set pieces that [made] up the exposition” and concluded by mocking Maurice Benard’s affected Cuban accent: “If ju goan to do something so tacky, at least make it funny.” The final grade given was a C minus.

John J. O’Connor, writing for the New York Times, was even more merciless, calling it “so terrible it shouldn’t be missed. Television milestones don’t come along all that often.” Despite his issues with the script and execution, O’Connor did have some encouraging words for the two stars: “Seen from the right angle, and under careful lighting, Ms. Fisher does bear an uncanny resemblance to our Lucy. And playing Desi Arnaz, Maurice Benard is reasonably on target, getting the cute Cuban accent down pat and singing ‘Babalu’ without looking too silly.” (Desi’s singing voice was dubbed by Robert West)

In the Desert News, Scott. D Pierce lauded Frances Fisher: “In makeup, Fisher bears a sometimes-startling resemblance to Ball. But what makes her portrayal of Lucy believable is her ability to act, not simply do an imitation.” But the niceties ended there, with Pierce going on to say that Benard “fails miserably” as Arnaz and that the film as a whole was a shallow cash-in: “The biggest problem with this movie is that it's obvious there's only one reason it was produced - to bring in big ratings by trading on the name of Lucille Ball.”

Ken Tucker, writing for Entertainment Weekly, wasn’t much more charitable, lamenting how Lucy and Desi were “reduced to the simplest stereotypes”, Arnaz an “incurable womanizer” and Lucille “a self-righteous bore.” He criticized Benard’s lack of similarity to Desi in addition to the way the character was written, although he did write kindly of Fisher: “her face will remind you of Ball’s angularity, and she does a good job of imitating Ball’s pop-eyed double takes and breathless screeching.” He ultimately concluded that “reducing a TV legend to the banal story of a troubled marriage…is a woeful mistake” and that “CBS has wound up trashing two of its most illustrious stars.”

Tom Jicha of the South Florida Sun Sentinel was upset at the film’s less than thorough detailing of Desi Arnaz’s contribution to the television industry, and likened Benard’s performance to Al Pacino’s Scarface doing a Desi impression. He did admire Fisher's appearance as Ball, however: “Fisher`s resemblance to the legend she plays is so striking, it`s distracting. You`re liable to find yourself gawking increduously at the screen, oblivious to the story.”

But the most damning vilification still came from Lucie Arnaz. Contrary to Thompson’s fantasy, she did not appreciate the final product at all. “It exploited their worst faults and it didn’t explain much about them as people. It didn’t even get the history right of the I Love Lucy show being created, and I thought…there must be a way to show these two people and be more realistic and have more fun watching it but also answer some questions.” It was largely in response to Before the Laughter that Lucie and her husband produced the Emmy award winning documentary Lucy & Desi: A Home Movie, which featured interviews and rare footage of the Arnaz family’s private life to tell their story.

Arnaz’s biggest beef with Before the Laughter was its depiction of Desi’s infidelity, bluntly dramatized in several scenes. One in particular showed Lucille discovering Desi and a blonde starlet embracing on a bus. Although aware that infidelities did occur to an extent in real life, Arnaz found the film’s handling of the matter to be in poor taste. “They can’t prove any of those things. [The producers] haven’t interviewed anyone who knew them as private people. This film is based on nothing.” It should be noted that Thompson disputes that claim, saying he did interview people who knew Lucy and Desi as well as conducting extensive research with the screenwriters in books, articles, magazines and videotapes.

“Everybody thinks I didn’t want my parents’ flaws shown,” Lucie said. “But that’s not true. What I found distressing was that this is a very surface piece. I did everything I could possibly do to stop this from happening. This is not their lives…This is a much a cartoon of their lives as any unauthorized fiction.”

Though easy to forget nowadays, not all reviews were negative. Mick Martin and Marsha Porter, in their popular Video Guide book, gave the film 3 out of 5 stars, calling it a “warts and all portrayal” that was “particularly distinguished by Frances Fisher’s passionate turn as the redheaded queen of comedy,” although they did advise it was not for those who wished to maintain the I Love Lucy image of Lucy and Desi being just like Lucy and Ricky.

Linda Seger, in her book The Art of Adaptation: Turning Fact and Fiction into Film, complemented the screenplay’s format. “The present-tense scenes helped structure and frame the flashback scenes, which were somewhat episodic. Without some kind of frame or structuring, they would have seemed like random scenes from two lives, instead of forming a cohesive narrative line.”

The Los Angeles Times, though critical of the screenwriters for “unfortunately [devoting] too much agonizing to the clash between Arnaz’s irrepressible libido and Ball’s fear of losing him to another woman” nonetheless praised the production and costume design as well as the casting: “Frances Fisher's wide-eyed Ball is pert and expressive. Her live-stage clown act as a warm-up to her ‘Lucy’ pilot and her black-and-white reproductions of a classic ‘Lucy’ kitchen episode are the movie's sweetest moments.” This was in stark contrast to People Magazine’s view of those recreations, which found them to be “totally torturous.”

The LA Times also gave Benard one of the very few positive notices he received for playing Desi: “Maurice Benard's shorter, shoulder-swaying lothario catches the boyish charm of a ba-ba-loo [sic] bongo player. Benard also conveys in the ‘Lucy’ acts the subtle, skillful Arnaz timing that was easily overlooked.”

Benard himself certainly wouldn’t offer that appraisal, and has gone on to express regret over the nature of the project. ''Frances and I worked so hard on the movie. But from the beginning, it was a mess. Lucy and Desi's daughter Lucie hated the concept. So did the public. They wanted to see the Lucy and Desi they knew from television, not the real couple.”

When asked about the film’s portrayal of Arnaz, Benard said that “he was brilliant in business. So much of what television is about today - reruns, syndication - that is because of Desi, and the movie didn't do much with that.''

Benard also blamed his lack of acting ability at the time for negatively affecting his performance. “I really thought I knew what I was doing. And from an emotional point of view, I did. I use my acting as a way of showing my own emotions, which I keep pretty much to myself in real life. But there is more to acting than emotions. I went to an acting coach in L.A. He looked at me and said I was awful. You bet it hurt. But he was right. I had no technical ability. I have that now.''

Looking back on the project, there’s a lot he would do differently. “My wife and I watched it on TV a few years after it came out. There was a scene and my wife looked over at me and I said, ‘What did you think?’ She got quiet and I said, ‘I know, pretty bad.’ I had him down as far as an impersonation. I studied his voice and mannerisms. But if I were to do it again now, I would go way deeper inside into who he was…I've had to learn to lie about that performance because a lot of people have told me it was great. I'm thinking, ’Are you serious?’ But now I'll just say, ‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’"

Today, the film is a largely forgotten cult oddity, a vaguely remembered footnote in the annals of television biopic history. It was popular enough at the time to warrant an official VHS and Laserdisc release from Republic Pictures, both of which are long out of print and command high prices on the secondhand market. Perhaps one day it will receive an official DVD or digital release, given the rather high curiosity factor among Lucy and Desi’s younger fan base that missed the film when it premiered. The lack of critical success did nothing to dampen Larry Thompson’s spirits, who went on to produce Lifetime’s ill-received Liz & Dick biopic with Lindsay Lohan in 2012. Thompson even boasted of his credentials with the Lucy and Desi movie when discussing Liz and Dick (couples with the initials L and D better look out for Thompson down the line).

Despite the subsequent video release (not to mention two Emmy nominations, for hairstyling and costume design), the critical reaction and ratings were such that Thompson never realized his dream of making a Lucy and Desi trilogy. In 2003, after interest in Lucy and Desi peaked again after the 50th anniversary of I Love Lucy in 2001, Storyline Entertainment produced a second Lucille Ball biopic entitled Lucy, which CBS aired on May 4th of that year. That film, which starred Rachel York as Lucille Ball and Daniel Pino as Desi Arnaz, still received mixed reviews but on the whole the reception was considerably more positive. The second film also sparked re-interest in this initial outing, and both films are worth comparing for their very different takes on the same couple.

Regardless of one’s opinion of the film, it does stand at an important point in Lucy/Desi history. As Stefan Kanfer notes in his book Ball of Fire, it was one of several projects in the early 90s that “marked the beginning of the apotheosis, a phenomenon that was to make Lucille Ball unique in the history of American show business”. The movie neither enhanced nor tarnished Lucille’s image in the eyes of the public. It merely commented on it. Lucy and Desi’s popularity never dwindled for an instant. And today, even in an age when black-and-white is often looked down upon by younger generations, I Love Lucy is as vividly remembered and respected as it ever was. With countless biographies written, every episode available on DVD, and yearly conventions in Lucille’s hometown of Jamestown, New York, Lucy’s life remains as fresh and invigorating today as it did back in 1990 when a film producer set out to create a biographical tribute. But whether or not he succeeded or failed is irrelevant, as the film is merely proof of the biggest success of all: Lucille Ball’s never-ending popularity in the eyes of her audience.

Sources

Andrews, Bart. "No Desi, No 'Lucy' : New Movie on Ball, Arnaz Sets Author Piecing Together The Teaming That Made TV History." Editorial. The Los Angeles Times 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 10 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.latimes.com/1991-02-10/news/tv-1219_1_i-love-lucy>.

Bernstein, Sharon. "They Live Lucy : Television: The Producers Said They Wanted Unknowns to Audition for 'Lucy and Desi: Before the Laughter.' Redheads Came Running." Editorial. The Los Angeles Times 17 July 1990: n. pag. Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 17 July 1990. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.latimes.com/1990-07-17/entertainment/ca-142_1_lucy-trivia>.

Buck, Jerry. "Lucy Look-alike Frances Fisher Realizes Dream Role in 'Lucy' Movie." Daily Gazette 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Print.

Carlson, Timothy. "The Lucy Movie: An Angry Family Speaks Out." TV Guide 9-15 Feb. 1991: 2-6. Web.

Chapman, Francesca. "'Lucy': No Love For Desi." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. Philadelphia Inquirer 08 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Www.articles.philly.com. Web. <http://articles.philly.com/1991-02-08/entertainment/25773116_1_lucy-and-desi-maurice-benard-desi-arnaz>.

Hiltbrand, David. "Picks and Pans Review." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. People 11 Feb. 1991: n. pag. People.com. 11 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.people.com/people/archive/article/0,,20114368,00.html>.

Hirsch, Lynda. "'Desi' Experience Humbled 'Gh' Top Dog Maurice Benard." Editorial. Orlando Sentinel 16 May 1994: n. pag. Orlando Sentinel. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.orlandosentinel.com/1994-05-16/lifestyle/9405141027_1_maurice-benard-lucy-and-desi-desi-arnaz>.

Jicha, Tom. "Movie Explores Lucy And Desi Legend." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. Sun Sentinel [South Palm Beach] 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Sun Sentinel. 10 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.sun-sentinel.com/1991-02-10/entertainment/9101070899_1_lucy-desi-desi-arnaz-lucie-arnaz>.

Kanfer, Stefan. "A Marx Sister." Ball of Fire: The Tumultuous Life & Comedic Art of Lucille Ball. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2003. 303. Print.

Loynd, Ray. "TV Reviews : 'Lucy & Desi': A Love-Hate Scenario." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. The Los Angeles Times 09 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 09 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.latimes.com/1991-02-09/entertainment/ca-642_1_love-lucy>.

"LUCIE ARNAZ SHOWS LITTLE LOVE FOR CBS MOVIE ABOUT PARENTS." Editorial. Desert News [Salt Lake City] 5 Feb. 1991: n. pag. DeseretNews.com. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.deseretnews.com/article/145540/LUCIE-ARNAZ-SHOWS-LITTLE-LOVE-FOR-CBS-MOVIE-ABOUT-PARENTS.html?pg=all>.

Lucy and Desi: A Home Movie. Prod. Lucie Arnaz and Larry Luckinbill. MPI Home Video, 1993. DVD.

Martin, Mick, and Marsha Porter. "Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter." DVD & Video Guide 2005. New York: Ballantine, 2004. 675. Print.

O'Connor, John J. "TV Weekend; Lucy and Desi, Behind the Screen." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. The New York Times 08 Feb. 1991: n. pag. The New York Times. The New York Times, 08 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.nytimes.com/1991/02/08/arts/tv-weekend-lucy-and-desi-behind-the-screen.html>.

Pierce, Scott D. "CBS OWES LUCILLE BALL, DESI ARNAZ MORE THAN `BEFORE THE LAUGHTER'" Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. Desert News [Salt Lake City] 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. DeseretNews.com. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.deseretnews.com/article/146539/CBS-OWES-LUCILLE-BALL-DESI-ARNAZ-MORE-THAN-BEFORE-THE-LAUGHTER.html?pg=all>.

Sanello, Frank. "`Lucy & Desi` No Laughing Matter To Lucie Arnaz." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. Chicago Tribune 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Chicago Tribune. 10 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.chicagotribune.com/1991-02-10/entertainment/9101120888_1_lucy-desi-love-lucy-desi-arnaz>.

Seger, Linda. "Creating the Second Original." The Art of Adaptation: Turning Fact and Fiction into Film. New York: H. Holt, 1992. 104. Print.

"We Love Soaps Interview Exclusive - Maurice Benard." Sonny & Mike. N.p., 11 Mar. 2011. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.sonnyandmike.com/welovesoapsinterviewmauricebenard03112011.htm>.

Elisabeth Das Musical: The Wagner Connection

2013-02-28T21:58:00.001-05:00

To appreciate modern works of opera and musical theatre is to appreciate Richard Wagner. His ideal of the gesamtkunstwerk led to the formation of composition and staging techniques that largely reformed the medium of theatre. By arguing that drama told through music was the purest form of drama, he provided a strong countermovement to realism. He allowed for character emotion and stories to unfold in deeper, more complex ways than had previously been achievable, perhaps most notably through recurring musical passages called leitmotifs that were identified with particular characters or events and symbolically expressed their inner psyche and personal growth. Although Wagner did not create the leitmotif, he was the first to make use of it so powerfully. His music dramas, among them Tristan und Isolde and the four works comprising the Ring Cycle , are prime examples of his many ideals coming together in one work of art, arguably leading the way to 20^th century music. Many popular theatrical and classical composers have built upon his ideals to this day, from Andrew Lloyd Webber to Stephen Sondheim, to Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg. In particular, Michael Kunze and Sylvester Levay’s pop-opera Elisabeth is an ideal example of Wagner’s lasting influence. An examination of Elisabeth, its musical compositions and staging techniques, will reveal lasting traits used to express not only characterization but also symbolism: that is, exploration of realistic events in non-realistic ways. In addition, it can show how pop operas tend to deviate from Wagner’s ideals. A thorough examination will highlight the strengths and weaknesses of pop opera when compared to the founding principles of the gesamtkunstwerk.

Considering his contempt for commercial art, it is perhaps ironic that Wagner’s biggest influence has been in the worlds of cinema and musical theatre, two of the most commercial entertainment forms to become popular in the 20^th century. Author Patrick Carnegy notes that “Wagner’s reforms have been so successfully assimilated into accepted modern theatre practice that one can easily lose sight of how radical his ideas were in his time and how hard he had to fight for them” (6). Wagner would no doubt be mortified that Andrew Lloyd Webber, as commercial a composer as one can find, not only incorporates Wagnerian musical ideals into his works but also presents them at his own version of Bayreuth: Sydmonton Court at his Hampshire estate (Sam Staggs, Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard, 322). The biggest difference between Bayreuth and Sydmonton is that Webber mainly uses his venue to test how viable his shows’ commercial prospects are, instead of immersing the audience in a total work of art. Whether or not Wagner would approve is beside the point; his influence is felt in music heard everywhere today, even though most are not aware of it. Perhaps audiences failed to notice that Che Guevara and Eva Perón’s two big numbers in Lloyd Webber’s Evita, “Oh, What a Circus” and “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina”, respectively, share the same melody albeit with different tempos, orchestrations and, of course, lyrics. The tune is a leitmotif, and can be interpreted to indicate the biting contempt the antagonist feels for the protagonist, as well as her increasing dominance as a public figure.

Wagner’s musical ideals thus prove themselves to be perfect not only for opera, but for pop-opera as well: for expression of character, emotion and symbolic interpretations of literal-minded events. In Boublil and Schönberg’s Les Misérables, for example, the ghost of Fantine appears in the final scene, singing a reprise of the same leitmotif she sang on her deathbed, this time aimed at Jean Valjean directly before his death. The scene is made much more powerful and moving by the use of music and symbolism than it would had Valjean simply passed away silently, for Fantine’s presence and the music heightens the reality of his death and raises him to salvation. It is through techniques like these that Wagner has perhaps elevated certain aspects of modern commercial entertainment to a level of complexity that might not have otherwise been attainable. As author Ethan Mordden notes, “pop opera is not a pop version of opera. It’s an opera version of pop: building opera’s intensity out of the vernacular musical idiom” (82). While many pop-operas can be viewed as such, some tend to be more operatic in nature than others.

A prime example of the sophistication the pop-opera genre is capable of is Elisabeth. Considering Empress Elisabeth of Austria lived during Wagner’s lifetime, it is ironic his artistic ideals would go on to influence her musical biography. Even more ironically, her cousin, King Ludwig II of Bavaria, was the major financer of Wagner’s Bayreuth Festspielhaus, and would one day himself become the subject of a musical. The tragic story of the “Reluctant Empress”, burdened by duty when all she wanted was to be free, would seem the perfect subject for romantic melodrama. Indeed, some of the films based on her life have oversimplified her to cartoonish proportions, but lyricist Michael Kunze and composer Sylvester Levay had a different approach. Although some would categorize their work as just “another of those romantic continental spectacles with a pop-opera score such as [North Americans] never get over here despite their tremendous success in Europe” (Mordden, 230), its cleverness and strong Wagnerian influence should not go unnoticed. By creating a piece of music drama, to be staged with mainly precise recreations of period décor and costuming, Kunze and Levay attempted to tell the story of ‘Sisi’ in a balanced and honest way, while using the benefits of musical composition to explore her character in greater depth.

The musical opens in purgatory. Luigi Lucheni, her assassin and the narrator of the piece, is being questioned as to why he murdered Elisabeth one hundred years before. Lucheni then calls forth the dead aristocracy to sing about the life and legacy of Elisabeth. As originally staged in Vienna at the Theater an der Wien in 1992, and subsequently in its 2003 revival at the same venue, Lucheni mounts a lowered platform that proceeds to rise, as the dead aristocracy rise from beneath the stage. It is here that the first leitmotif is heard: the theme sung by the aristocracy that will be presented again throughout the piece to emphasize the power Elisabeth held over the collective consciousness.

The benefit of telling Sisi’s story operatically is that the music can help symbolically represent very real aspects of her life. In examples of her poetry, Sisi stated that her only true love was death itself. Therefore, “Der Tod” is presented as a character, personified in the form of a handsome young man who saves Sisi’s life at an early age, leading to a lifelong fascination between them both. Máté Kamarás, who played Death in the Vienna revival, sees his character “as having thousands of faces. Elisabeth is the only one who sees the face of Death in this piece” (Máté Kamarás, Backstage Elisabeth). Personifying Death as a man allows for onstage interaction between him and Elisabeth: a physical representation of her inner turmoil and struggle with life. Death’s main leitmotif appears on his first entrance, and reappears at his intrusion into Elisabeth and Franz Josef’s first dance together. In “Der Letzte Tanz”, he ominously and seductively declares that her final dance belongs to him alone.

Another song associated with Death is “Die Schatten Werden Länger”, which associates itself with the drastic measures Death takes to win the full affections of Elisabeth; if she ignores him, the shadows will continue to grow over her life. It first appears in Act I upon the death of Elisabeth’s daughter, Sophie, as Death reveals the corpse of her baby lying within the confines of his carriage, flanked by his winged minions. He has taken her life as a message to Elisabeth, who becomes enraged and even more determined to ignore his future advances. Death then forms a close bond with Sisi’s psychologically fragile son, Rudolf, and shares a duet reprise of the song with him in Act II.

Rudolf, coincidentally also the subject of his own musical, has a small but symbolically rich role in Elisabeth. His troubled nature is revealed early in Act II with the song “Mama, Wo Bist Du”, where the frightened and lonely child wonders why his mother never has time for him. Death appears and comforts the small boy, forming a bond with the child to serve his own ends. Later on, an older Rudolf is finally ready to embrace Death after a harsh confrontation with his mother, and dances to the “Mayerling Waltz”. Death and his minions, dressed to represent Rudolf’s lover, Mary Vetsera, dance with him, and Death convinces him to commit suicide by gently handing him a revolver. At Rudolf’s funeral, a crestfallen Elisabeth sings a reprise of Rudolf’s leitmotif, this time entitled “Totenklage”.

Leitmotifs are also used to contrast altering emotional states in Elisabeth. The love between Franz Josef and Elisabeth and its eventual loss are expressed through the same theme. It is first heard in the duet “Nichts ist Schwer”, where the two declare that nothing matters now that they are in love. Over time, however, Elisabeth begins to see her marriage for what it is, and grows apart from her politically-minded and overbearing husband. Shortly before the final curtain, after many years have passed and Elisabeth has faced much hardship and loss, the theme reappears as a second duet called “Boote in der Nacht”: this time with Franz Josef begging Sisi to return home, but with her lamenting that they are ships passing in the night, and that love cannot heal the pains of their past. Likewise, Sisi’s first song, “Wie Du”, where the carefree fifteen-year-old happily tells her father that she wants to be exactly like him, is reprised in Act II: this time with the aged, hardened Sisi hearing the voice of her long-departed father, still wishing to be like him, and having no desire to communicate with the living any longer. The “Wie Du” reprise is made even more haunting by having Elisabeth and her father sing the song in a major key, with the orchestrations alternating between major and minor. This reprise is a good example of the powerful effect transforming leitmotifs can have. By having Sisi sing in a major key, it reflects the same happy longing that she had the first time she sang it. By having the orchestrations in major and minor keys, it shows that her wishes are futile: she will not be granted her desires during her lifetime.

Archduchess Sophie is the primary antagonist of the piece, being an overbearing force on Elisabeth. Her leitmotif first appears in “Eine Kaiserin Muss Glänzen”, where she provides strict rules that Sisi must obey, for an Empress must sparkle. Directly before the Act I finale, Countess Eszterhazy, Sisi’s lady-in-waiting assigned to her by Sophie to oversee her education, sings the same theme, this time as “Uns’re Kaiserin Soll Sich Wiegen”, celebrating that Sisi is no longer a political threat as she has become too self-absorbed. The theme is then heard again in Act II in a confrontation between Sophie and her son, Franz Josef, where she stands by her belief that Elisabeth was not meant to be an Empress.

Luigi Lucheni is one of the few characters to have any lines that are spoken, not sung. He appears in nearly every scene to comment on the action and inform the audience on what is happening, usually as himself but occasionally in the guise of another to interact with the characters, therefore serving a function similar to Che Guevara’s role in Evita. His primary leitmotif serves as the opening for Act II, “Kitsch”, where he snidely informs the audience of Elisabeth’s unfortunate commercial appeal. It is reprised shortly before the final curtain as “Mein Neues Sortiment”, where he comments on his growing collection of Elisabeth “merchandise”. The tempo is then made Rubato, and Lucheni foreshadows the ultimate fate of Elisabeth and Franz Josef’s relationship, which is revealed in the following scene in “Boote in der Nacht”. His other major song is in Act I, entitled “Milch”, where he reveals to the citizens the reason as to why their access to milk has been cut off: it is being used to bathe the Empress. The same melody is heard again in Act II as “Hass”, this time in a minor key, to represent another uprising by a sect of citizens: the hatred expressed by the Anti-Semites over Elisabeth’s decision to erect a statue of Jewish poet Heinrich Heine. The song is performed entirely by the chorus and not Lucheni, and is chanted rather than sung, with the Anti-Semites dressed uniformly with porcelain doll masks and long braids. In both cases, the song represents displeasure by a group of citizens over something Elisabeth has done. This time, however, the crowd is in the wrong and Sisi is in the right. It allows the audience to reconsider the negative connotations of its first use by portraying the Anti-Semites’ hate over a morally responsible decision made by Sisi; exactly the opposite meaning of its initial appearance. It is a haunting image made even more potent by the harshness of the reprise.

The leitmotif associated most closely with the character of Elisabeth is first heard midway through Act I. Lamenting the discipline being forced on her by her mother-in-law, Archduchess Sophie, at the Hapsburg court, she boldly declares that her life belongs to her in “Ich Gehör Nur Mir”. It appears again in the Act I finale, first sung by Franz Josef as an apology to her for the discipline and limitations Sophie has been forcing on her. Then it is sung by Elisabeth as she makes her entrance, wearing the famous white dress with her hair studded with diamonds, an image immortalized in the portrait by Franz Xaver Winterhalter. As a symbolic homage to this portrait, the Vienna staging presents Elisabeth standing within a gold frame, in the exact same pose as in the portrait, before stepping out to assert her independence to both Franz Josef and Death. Fittingly, since this is the music associated with Elisabeth’s desire for freedom, it also serves as the musical’s finale. Both characters have achieved their through-actions: the assassinated Elisabeth finally embraces Death and the long awaited freedom that only her own death could provide, while Death declares that she belongs to him at long last, creating a powerful juxtaposition of their respective desires. The final image is of Lucheni hovering overhead and tying a noose around his neck, preparing to embrace death as well.

As fittingly Wagnerian as Elisabeth is in many respects, it does not entirely conform to his musical ideal. “Ich Gehör Nur Mir”, for example, has its longest rendition in Act I, when Sisi first sings it. In its first incarnation, serving not so much to further the plot as to comment on Sisi’s desires, it is more akin to an aria than the through-music Wagner utilized. The story pauses to allow Sisi to express her innermost thoughts, and the song is arguably written so as to showcase the vocal talent of the actress singing it. It is therefore more of an opera seria moment, the type of opera Wagner loathed most, than an example of dramma per musica. It is here that pop-opera proves itself to have opera seria tendencies, as most, if not all pop-operas, do include numbers specifically designed to show off the strengths of the singer, and are also carefully designed to be performed as stand-alone singles. Given Wagner’s disdain for commercialism, he would not approve of this. The song’s later renditions, however, are more Wagnerian in style, as they are shorter and actually work to advance the plot rather than just comment on it.

Certain numbers are only heard once. Though most do flow cohesively into one another and work to advance the story, and their lack of repetition is a deliberate choice, their singularity distances them from Wagner’s idea of a cohesive score. “Wenn Ich Tanzen Will”, for example, was written nine years after the opera’s premiere as an addition to the first production mounted in Germany, in Essen. Ethan Mordden notes that people “hostile to pop-opera could adduce [such] endless retooling to their charges of insubstantial composition” (79). The song’s contribution to the piece should not be underestimated, however, as it is the only true duet Elisabeth and Death have together, but it is more a comment on their love-hate relationship than a plot-moving device and is also a prime vocal showcase for both actors. Pop-opera cynics may argue that it was only added as incentive to buy the Essen cast album to hear the “big new song”, and Wagner would undoubtedly loathe the idea of adding music only to boost commercial appeal instead of benefitting the work. However, “Wenn Ich Tanzen Will” manages to strengthen the audience’s understanding of Sisi’s relationship with Death by showing her forcefully oppose his advances in addition to being entertaining. It therefore inadvertently associates itself with the best of both opera seria and dramma per musica.

Whether he would have liked it or not, Richard Wagner’s theatrical reformations proved an invaluable resource to the development of future works of entertainment. In any case, an idea as grand as the gesamtkunstwerk should not be meant to solely please the elite. The splendor of all forms of art coming together into one spectacular whole could surely be appreciated by even the most uncultured of civilians. Works like Elisabeth, chronicling the life of a famous historical figure, can educate as well as entertain. This strengthens their appeal to a wider audience, for art can be valued by everyone in different ways. In the end, it is up to each member of the audience to take what they will from theatrical works, and if one person, and one alone, finds total satisfaction with what he has seen, then the gesamtkunstwerk has been achieved.

Works Cited:

Borchmeyer, Dieter. Richard Wagner: Theory and Theatre. Trans. Stewart Spencer. Oxford:

Clarendon, 1991. Print.

Carnegy, Patrick. Wagner and the Art of the Theatre. New Haven and London: Yale UP, 2006. Print.

Mordden, Ethan. The Happiest Corpse I've Ever Seen: The Last Twenty-Five Years of the Broadway Musical. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. Print.

Elisabeth: Das Musical - Live aus dem Theater an der Wien. Dir. Harry Kupfer. By Michael Kunze and Sylvester Levay. Perf. Maya Hakvoort, Máté Kamarás, Serkan Kaya, André Bauer, Else Ludwig. HitSquad Productions, 2005. DVD.

Kamarás, Máté – Backstage Elisabeth. HitSquad Productions, 2005. DVD.

Wagner, Nike. The Wagners: The Dramas of a Musical Dynasty. New York: Phoenix House, 2001. Print.

Byrne, Debra, and Michael Ball, perf. . Les Misérables: The Complete Symphonic Recording. By Alain

Boublil, Claude-Michel Schönberg, and Herbert Kretzmer. 1988. CD.

LuPone, Patti, and Mandy Patinkin, perf. Evita: Premiere American Recording. By Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice. 1979. CD.

Staggs, Sam. Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard: Billy Wilder, Norma Desmond and the Dark Hollywood Dream. New York: St. Martin's, 2002. Print

Sunset Boulevard & William Archer: From Screen to Stage

2013-02-28T21:23:00.002-05:00

In his Play-Making: A Manual of Craftsmanship, William Archer sets forth specific instructions and examples of how he feels plays should be executed. Two crucial elements addressed by Archer are those of climax and anticlimax, as well as character conversion, for both of which he pinpoints the importance of proper execution. While Archer does take issue with many plays’ treatment of these aspects, there have been attempts that align more closely with his views. Andrew Lloyd Webber, Don Black and Christopher Hampton’s adaptation of the film Sunset Blvd., for example, reinterprets the story for the stage, and arguably incorporates aspects of Archer’s ideal into its structure. When addressing the finale and character conversions in Sunset Boulevard, one will see aspects that Archer would indeed agree with. A close analysis can highlight the specific relations to Archer’s ideal.

In Chapter 18 of his Play-Making, Archer notes the difficulty of properly executing the final act of a play, especially the falling of the curtain. The timing of the curtain fall is crucial, and “a playwright should never let his audience expect the fall of a curtain at a given point, and then balk their expectancy…”(34). Black and Hampton made the wise decision to retain the film Sunset Blvd. ending for the stage, as both provide an ideal curtain moment. The climax of the play occurs in scene 18, when all the main characters collide and their agendas become known, specifically Joe Gillis revealing the truth to Norma Desmond about her forgotten stardom and preparing to leave her. The tension escalates until Norma, proudly proclaiming “I’m the greatest star of them all” (164), shoots Gillis dead. While this effectively ends the climactic moment, it would be unsatisfying to have the curtain fall after the last gunshot rings out. Archer would surely agree that audiences would not “feel the moment to be rightly chosen ”(34), as there would be too much curiosity as to what happened to Norma immediately following the aftermath.

The following scene, though short, provides a strong conclusion. Norma has surrendered completely to her delusions and, believing she is in the studio making her cinematic return, declares: “And now, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up” (165), completely oblivious that the police are there to take her away. It is at this precise moment where Norma’s delusions prepare to collide with reality, and to witness the actual collision would be inappropriate. Audiences do not need to see what becomes of Norma after leaving the mansion. Archer would surely commend Black and Hampton for not letting it “drag on when the audience feels in its heart that it is really over, and that ‘the rest is silence’ – or ought to be.” (34). Norma’s ultimate fate should indeed remain silent, and it thankfully does so. Film historian Sam Staggs concludes that Norma “came from the country of movie stars, a city-state outside the geography of our understanding. And that’s where she returned in the end.” (Close-up on Sunset Boulevard, 362). The final scene shows just enough to reveal what happened to her mind; her final destination is best left as an enigma.

With the exception of her descent into madness, Norma is a largely consistent character. Her primary desire to film her Salome script does not falter, nor does her fragile emotional state. Joe Gillis, however, does undergo conversions of both will and sentiment. When he first meets Norma, his main volition is to earn some desperately needed cash to make his car payments, lamenting that “if I lose that in this town, it’s like having my legs cut off” (141). Even though he knew her script was a lost cause from the start, his desperation motivated his decision. Not until the end of act 1 does he undergo a change in sentiment in his feelings for Norma, returning to her after their New Years party confrontation to console her and succumbing to her desires. Even though he knew her script was hopeless, he was able to admit honestly that “You’ve been good to me. You’re the only person in this stinking town that’s ever been good to me” (155), before passionately kissing her. Director Susan Shulman, who helmed the 2^nd U.S. Tour of Sunset Boulevard, felt it crucial to fully express “that Joe [falls] in love with Norma, even if it’s for the briefest period of time” (Staggs, 361). Since Archer felt strongly that changes in sentiment “should not merely be asserted, but proved” (35), the kiss Joe gives Norma serves as concrete proof of his present feelings.

These conversions, though important to the plot, are only fleeting. The strongest conversion Joe makes is at the end of the play. He has fallen in love with Betty Schaeffer by this point, a love far more honest and less shameful than his relationship with Norma. Archer’s disappointment that changes in volition “are not always adequately motivated” (35) would assuredly not carry over into Sunset Boulevard. Joe Gillis’s decision to free Betty Schaeffer and leave Norma is the culmination of the character’s journey; his shame at selling out and aiding Norma’s dementia becomes too great to handle, and he fully admits his regret in his final speeches to both Betty and Norma. His change of will also incorporates a change in sentiment; his love for Norma was merely temporary. Like her impossible screenplay, their love was a delusional hope from the start, a love that ultimately proved fatal to Gillis and maddening to Norma.

William Archer would probably find Sunset Boulevard to be satisfying on many levels. The writers did not merely copy the film, but reworked it “to meet the demands of music and the stage” (Staggs, 321), structuring it with theatrical guidelines Archer himself believed in. Though the play may not feature an original story, its plot and characters reflect the complexity of classic dramas that preceded it. Most importantly to Archer’s guidelines, it presents characters that develop appropriately and culminates in an emotionally satisfying final curtain.

Works Cited:
Archer, William. Play-Making: A Manual of Craftsmanship - Dramaturgy Handbook. PP. 32-36
Perry, George. Sunset Boulevard: From Movie to Musical. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1993. Print.
Staggs, Sam. Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard: Billy Wilder, Norma Desmond and the Dark Hollywood Dream. New York: St. Martin's, 2002. Print.

Patti, Glenn & Sunset: Analyzing Two Very Different Normas

2013-01-17T23:07:00.000-05:00

No words can tell the stories their eyes tell...

When discussing the various actresses who have played Norma Desmond over the years in Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Sunset Boulevard", author Sam Staggs, in his book "Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard" had this to say:

So many contenders, and the search goes on for the one who gave the great, the definitive performance. It's a question opera fanatics used to ask. They argued, yelled, debated and fought over it: You're dirt if you think Tebaldi's a better Violetta/Mimi/Butterfly than Callas! Dame Joan? Gimme a break. Monserrat can sing it but she can't act...Jessye has the most fabulous instrument...You should have heard Zinka Milanow, now there was a great...Bubbles...Leontyne...Schwartzkopf. Where are they now, the voices and the fans, the claques, the passion, the factions, the opinions, and the worship?

It's easy enough to answer that last question. Today, the voices, fans, claques, passion, factions, opinions and worship (not to mention plenty of drudging) are found on youtube comment pages, Broadway World forums, Amazon reviews, Facebook groups, IMDb boards, and too many other online communities to name. The subject is no longer opera per se, but musical theatre as a whole. Thanks to "High School Musical" and "Glee", not to mention megamusicals aimed at tweens like "Wicked" and "Hairspray", more people than ever are becoming musical theatre "experts". They argue, yell, debate and fight every single day. Once in a while an insightful and/or respectful comment is made, but more often than not it's vitriol aimed at another for having the audacity not to share the same opinions that they do. I myself have been guilty of this behavior in the past but am trying to veer towards more respectful, objective evaluation nowadays. Personally, it sickens me to see juvenile banter that reveals no insight and accomplishes nothing. At the end of the day, you will always feel you were right and nothing will change your mind. End of story.

Negatively comparing actors who have played the same role is a particular pet peeve of mine. It's an inevitable hazard with play/musical revivals and replacement casts. No one actor can stay with a role forever, and no part should ever die with an actor, so eventually somebody else will come in. Especially if the original actor was quite beloved in the part, there will naturally be much scrutiny to see how the replacement holds up. Many people will refuse to accept a new interpretation of the role and dismiss the new performer outright, while others may appreciate the new actor's take on the character moreso than that of the original actor and as a result find a whole new appreciation for the piece, and so on and so forth. In a perfect world, each performance would be compared, contrasted and ultimately appreciated for what it is, but sadly, we do not live in that world as of yet.

A lot of the venom spewed on these online communities tends to result from differing opinions on these multiple interpretations. Frances Rufelle's Eponine compared to Lea Salonga's Eponine is a common one, not to mention all the actresses who've played Fantine over the years coming under scrutiny ("LuPone is definitive, Graff's a pale imitation/Byrne's emotion is unparalleled/Henshall's voice is too tight", for example). And not just musicals that have made it in America, either. Ones only popular in Europe suffer the same fate, with Pia Douwes and Maya Hakvoort often being compared for their performance of the titular character in "Elisabeth". Usually these comparisons involve the women of musical theatre, in part due to the broader selection of big roles for women as opposed to men, but occasionally the various Phantoms and Sweeney Todds and Marius Pontmercys pop in from time to time.

But there's no doubt that some of the biggest bones of contention one will encounter are the Norma Desmond debates, specifically Patti LuPone vs. Glenn Close. Despite the many actresses who have played the role over the years, most critiques seem to zero in on these two for several reasons. Firstly, they were the two original Normas, and the only two to have their (nearly) complete performances preserved on record, as opposed to the highlights albums and singles featuring subsequent Normas. Secondly, and most crucially, due to the controversy surrounding their casting. For those not familiar with the scandal, here's a brief summary:

Patti LuPone opened the show in London in July of 1993, with a signed contract stating she'd take the show to New York the following year. However, before the Broadway premiere, the show would open in Los Angeles with a completely different cast, including Glenn Close as Norma. Patti's reviews in England were mostly positive, but most American critics who saw the show were less impressed. When Glenn Close received rave reviews, rumors began to swirl that the financial backers would want to go with Close instead of LuPone in New York. Lloyd Webber and his company, Really Useful Group, denied this staunchly, yet still the rumors continued to spread, making LuPone understandably upset. RUG continued to say Patti would do New York, until February of 1994, when Lloyd Webber and RUG finally decided to cancel LuPone's contract and bring Close to Broadway instead. LuPone was naturally furious, hurt and humiliated, and hasn't been on speaking terms with Lloyd Webber since. Despite a heafty payout for breaking her contract, LuPone would never forgive anyone involved in the incident and continues to harbor ill feelings to this day. As for Glenn Close, she was met with thunderous acclaim in New York and even picked up a Tony Award for Best Actress (although with only 2 nominees in the category that year, it would have been in the bag for either Close or LuPone).

This naturally has created very mixed feelings amonst fans of the show. Those on LuPone's side not only admire her performance but also have a great deal of sympathy, arguing that Close was a usurper who stole the role from LuPone. Then there are those on Close's side who felt she was better cast and that Lloyd Webber made the right decision to bring her to New York, and that showbusiness is rough and Patti needs to get over it. Is one camp right and the other wrong?

Any answer to that, of course, will be subjective. There is no right or wrong answer here. There are only facts: facts about their individual performances and of the creative decisions that lead to the debacle. It is certainly true that Patti LuPone did NOT deserve the treatment she was given, and she was hurt solely because of bad business decisions and cowardice on behalf of the creative team. In hindsight, it seems foolish of Lloyd Webber to contract her for New York knowing that there'd be another Norma in Los Angeles before then. The smart decision would have been to hold off casting for New York until both productions and their stars were established. Yes, somebody would still lose out, but at least there wouldn't have been any broken promises.

Despite her impressive acting credentials, LuPone's fame is largely due to her singing voice, as those are the recordings that reach the public at large. Plus, her voice is legendary, and for good reason. She has a delivery style and timbre all her own; there's never mistaking her for someone else. Unlike many of the American Idol-esque clones that permeate musical theatre nowadays, LuPone is a unique standout, never one to get lost in a flock of identical sheep. Her Evita is legendary, her Fantine bar-raising, her Mrs. Lovett revelatory and her Madame Rose a penultimate triumph. Norma Desmond is, perhaps, her most divisive role. She's often said that she wanted to avoid a campy performance and was very concerned with making Norma "extravagant but real." In short, she didn't want to give a drag queen performance, nor did she. Hers is amongst the most subtle Norma Desmonds, at least in regards to acting. Vocally, LuPone pulls no punches and delivers a performance described as both "Broadwayesque and operatic" - no easy feat. Most of the criticism directed at her zeroed in on her acting, or perceived "lack" of acting, rather than her singing. Many found her too human, too sane. Perhaps in her desire to avoid camp she restrained herself too much during her early days of doing the part. LuPone herself even felt she got better after she was fired, due to the anger she felt at RUG mirroring the anger Norma felt at the current film industry. Surviving glimpses of her final performances show tremendous growth in the role, both vocally and emotionally, and there's no doubt that her personal experience helped her identify with Norma more than ever before and lent a sense of urgency and truth to her performance that perhaps, through no fault of her own, she simply couldn't find early on. If only the cast album were recorded later in the run...

Glenn Close is a horse of a completely different color. Whereas LuPone started off demure, Close was full-on intensity right from the very beginning. Where LuPone's speaking voice was subdued and dripping with passive-agressive disdain, Close's voice was loud and commanding and burning with fury. Here was the performance the critics were waiting for. A movie star playing a movie star, what could be more appropriate? Extravagant, manipulative, theatrical, dynamic...here was the intense Norma they'd been hoping for. On the album, some of her line readings are pure Cruella DeVil, but as with London the recording was made very early on in the run. Glenn herself admitted the recording didn't capture her at her best, wishing it had been made in New York when she was more comfortable with the part. And while her singing voice was no match for LuPone's power, oftentimes full-blooded singing isn't the only way to approach a show. Sometimes an imperfect voice can lend the right amount of emotion and character that a perfect voice cannot. Critics of Close have cited the stark contrast between her head and chest voice as a negativity, and have also taken issue with the songs that were lowered in key to accommodate her range. Personally, this never bothered me. Dropping the keys was as much about creating a darker tone for the show as it was for Glenn's voice, and different keys can reveal different layers of the character depending on the actress in question. Naturally, some LuPone fans seem to take great pleasure at knocking Glenn for not having Patti's range (though they seem to have no problem with Patti performing "Sweeney Todd" and "Gypsy" in keys that are lower than the originals). LuPone's performance was appropriate for the key she sang in, and Close's was too.

While those are some of the major differences between the two actresses, I could go on for hours about the particular elements of each performance and all the subtleties therein, but there's no need. You can describe to your hearts content, but the simple truth is that they're different. No matter those involved, each performance is unique. You can have the view that there's only one way to play the part, and anyone who doesn't stick to that mold is wrong, or you can take each performance in turn and figure out how different interpretations can add or take away from a show. There is nothing wrong with having a preference, that's unavoidable. But there's also nothing wrong with appreciating multiple versions of the same thing. At the end of the day, LuPone and Close offer two valid Norma Desmonds, each of which will appeal to different people in turn. And that goes for all the other Normas, and the Fantines, and the Eponines, and the Phantoms, and every other musical theatre role out there that most actors would kill for. Theatre is organic, constantly growing, ever changing, ever flowing. There is no right or wrong way to do anything in the theatre. If something perhaps doesn't illicit the desired response, it can be changed come the next performance. You can do it one way this night, a different way the next. Patti LuPone and Glenn Close each contributed, and continue to contribute, to that organic lifeform that is the theatre. Their Normas bloomed and faded in turn, but thanks to the magic of cast albums those flowers can be regrown at any time. And for striving for artistic excellence and inner truth, I commend both of them for giving us new ways to dream.

C'est Magnifique! Recalling Tom Hooper's Les Miz

2013-01-02T20:46:00.000-05:00

My initial exposure to the musical Les Miz was a live recording of "I Dreamed a Dream" sung by Aretha Franklin. Being 8 or 9 years old at the time, I was unaware that the recording was taken at an inaugral performance and naturally assumed it was recorded live during the actual show. As a result, I spent a year or so under the impression that Les Miz was all about the oppression of black slaves in the American south. It wasn't until I stumbled across a used copy of the 10th Anniversary Concert on VHS, watched a few minutes and thought: "Why are they all white?" that my misinterpretation was corrected. Now I realized why the title was in French, and settled in to watch the story of one man's journey through the years to earn redemption, and the uprising of the miserable ones along the way. I'm not even going to bother to give a more complete synopsis than that, it'd take too long.

Since that inauspicious start, my knowledge of Les Miz, its story and its many productions has become much more well informed. I now own not only the concert but the French concept album, the original London and Broadway recordings, the three hour Complete Symphonic Recording and a highlights album of the Duisberg production in German. When I learned the long-awaited film version was finally to be made, I braced myself. I knew I had to see it, yet my buring passion for the show had faded somewhat in the last several years. Would this film rekindle the flame or put it out for good? Suffice it to say, the film's highlights album now sits on my shelf next to the other recordings.

I'll be honest: Les Miz didn't hook me from the start. True, the opening underwater shot of the tattered French flag floating on the surface, then the dramatic rising of the camera to reveal a giant ship being pulled into drydock by Javert's prisoners was very impressive. But the overture sounded so timid, so scaled back. Where was the dymanic surround sound this film surely deserved? Why was all the music and singing so firmly anchored in front, reserving only sound effects for the back? And why wasn't it louder? Had the much-hyped "live" singing on the set prevented the orchestra from getting too big? I can only speculate for now, but despite Hugh Jackman looking his grittiest and Russell Crowe looking imposing, I wasn't won over yet.

A few minutes went by. I enjoyed seeing Colm Wilkinson, the original Jean Valjean in both London and New York, as the Bishop of Digne. But why were all the cameras so tight on the action? Where's the sense of space, the epic grandness these types of Hollywood films are afforded. Why is everything so cramped? Still not convinced...

Then we have a time lapse. Anne Hathaway is introduced as the destitute Fantine. Most reviews focus on Hathaway as delivering the film's defining moment while singing the aforementioned "I Dreamed a Dream." It was a tremendously moving performance, and I felt my cold heart slowly begin to melt at the sight of her tear drenched face, violins weeping in the background along with her. I could see what all the fuss was about; it was a tour de force of emotion and Hathaway fully deserves the Best Supporting Actress oscar for it.

Now things were getting interesting, the setting more stylized and gritty. My heart lit up even more at the sight of Frances Rufelle, the original Eponine in both London and New York, as one of the "Lovely Ladies" of the evening, and I began to tear up at the sight of Fantine dying while remembering her daughter's face.

Then we have a confrontation between Javert and Valjean, after skipping out on his parole all those years ago. Aha, things are picking up now. Then it's Valjean off to rescue Cosette from the hands of the horrible inkeepers, the Thernardiers. Now for some comedy relief. Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen gave delightfully restrained performances of the two most over-the-top roles the stage version produced, no doubt determined to make the parts their own. Then Valjean has the abused Cosette in his arms and has fled with her in a carriage, delivering the newly written "Suddenly", a beautiful little song that fits so seamlessly into the score it's as though it's always been there. I found myself starting to swoon at the emotion. The magic truly was back.

I won't ramble on much longer. Suffice it to say the next time lapse brought about my favourite section of the film by far: the building of the barricade and the revolution itself. By this point I was totally transfixed and mesmerized by everything on the screen. By this point, I understood why the sound was intimate, why the cameras so tight. The story is an epic one, yes, but it's so intrinsically human that Hooper made the wise decision not to let the scenery and settings engulf them. By keeping the camera focused tight on the action, we're in the story. We're fighting among them. On stage there will always be a sense of detachment as you watch people perform in front of you, often from quite a distance away. But in film it doesn't have to be that way, and I salute the filmmakers for making this as filmic an experience as possible.

Nor did we need over-produced music to engulf us and take us out of the story. Keep it quaint, keep it real. And it made it all the more powerful when the booming gunshots went off; so loud you'd swear you were in the line of fire yourself.

The performances were marvelous. Jackman was a terrific Jean Valjean, encompassing hurt, betrayal, anger, love, compassion...name the emotion, he covered it beautifully. Hathaway was to die for as Fantine. The divisive reaction to Russell Crowe left me feeling somewhat unsure about what to expect from him, but I was pleasantly surprised. No, his voice wasn't terribly commanding, but his more restrained, quiet Javert worked for the movie, and his presence was as imposing as ever. The brooding Aaron Tveit was an impressive Enjolras while Daniel Huttlestone was a great little scene stealer as Gavroche. Amanda Seyfried performed the underwritten role of Cosette without the overdose of saccharine many of her stage counterparts have imbibed the part with, and won my favour as a result, while Samantha Barks delivered a beautiful performance as Eponine. The real find for me, however, was Eddie Redmayne, who was absolutely fantastic as Marius Pontmercy, and managed to make his love for Cosette feel considerably less shallow than I've ever seen/heard before. With all due respect to Hathaway, Redmayne's gutwrenching performance of the tearjerker "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" was the film's defining emotional moment for me.

By the time the film's ending came about, I was trembling all over, my cheeks soaking wet, my body feeling numb. I won't give away more spoilers, but this movie has my vote for greatest ending of all time. I stayed in place until the credits had ended, being swept in by the gorgeous instrumental medley that accompanied them. As I stood to leave, the last one in the theatre, quietly sniffling, I knew I'd just had a once in a lifetime experience. I will, of course, buy the blu-ray when it comes out, but no subsequent viewing of the film will be quite the same for me. Never again will I have the opportunity to start the movie with a feeling of doubt, of disappointment, only to find myself being sucked in and won over until I've totally forgotten any other world exists apart from the one on the screen. To become so immersed in something very familiar yet very new at the same time is a rare feeling that's hard to put into words, but it's a tremendous feeling. I will cherish the memory of this viewing more than practically any other first-time movie experience. To see something you've loved for years given new life in such a beautiful way is beyond words. My thanks to all the cast and crew of Les Miz. You've done yourselves proud and created a true masterpiece. C'est Magnifique!

Hello Again, Mary Lou: A Conversation with Ron Oliver

2012-08-08T22:57:00.000-04:00

Anyone who has watched film and television over the last 25 years will be familiar with Ron Oliver's work in one way or another. His impressive credits include Are You Afraid of the Dark, Goosebumps, Animorphs (all three of which he was involved with both as writer and director), The Secret World of Alex Mack, the Donald Strachey films starring Chad Allen for Here!, plus many other films and TV shows. Most recently he directed Annie Potts in The Music Teacher for The Hallmark Channel, which premieres this Saturday, August 11th.

Still as busy and hardworking as ever, Mr. Oliver kindly took some time to reminisce about his first two professional film projects: Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II and Prom Night III: The Last Kiss, for which he wrote both screenplays and received a co-directorial credit for III.

The four original Prom Night films, all of which have garnered cult audiences, spanned 1980-1992, although only II & III share any real connection with each other: the delightfully evil character of bad girl would-be prom queen Mary Lou Maloney (Lisa Schrage). The story starts in 1957, where Mary Lou's jilted prom date decides to get revenge by lobbing a stink bomb onstage when she's selected prom queen. Unfortunately, the flaming bomb ignites her dress and she burns to death in front of her horrified classmates. 30 years later, her accidental killer Bill Nordham (Michael Ironside) is now principal of Hamilton High, still haunted all these years by the memory of his crime. Things get even more tense when his son's girlfriend, Vicki Carpenter (Wendy Lyon), begins to act...differently; dressing in 50's clothes, becoming increasingly mean tempered, and confronting Bill with things only Mary Lou would know. Mary Lou is back, within Vicki, and is determined to get her crown at long last.

Hello Mary Lou, a sequel in-name only to the Jamie Lee Curtis original, wasn't conceived as such by Oliver: "I wrote the script as a spec called The Haunting of Hamilton High and they made it, but they owned the Prom Night title, so they called it that for commercial value."

The film was directed by Bruce Pittman. "I remember liking Bruce a great deal, but his original cut of the movie was not terribly scary," Ron recalls. "We reshot about 1/3 of it for scary improvement and I directed that material, with input from the editor and our producer Peter, both of whom sadly are dead now." (producer Peter Simpson passed away in 2007, while editor Nick Rotundo died last August in Toronto).

Shot primarily in Edmonton, Alberta and released theatrically in 1987, the movie garnered its biggest audience on home video. In 1989, Mary Lou came back from the dead for another round of murder and mayhem in the third installment, The Last Kiss, this time shot in Toronto and released direct-to-video. The new plot involved Mary Lou once again returning to Hamilton High, after ingenously escaping from a macabre chained chorus line down in Hell with a nail file...and yes, you read that correctly. Mary Lou becomes infatuated with perennial average student Alex Grey (Tim Conlon) and is determined to help him succeed in any way possible, even if it means killing off the whole school to do it.

"The PN3 script I wrote at the same time [as II] and tucked it away in my desk in case of a sequel, and then a couple years later we did it. Directing with Peter consisted of me doing all the prep work and then him being on set during the shoot more like a supervising producer, but the finance guys weren't going to give me - a first timer - a shot at directing unless Peter was there, so I am forever in his debt."

Despite Mary Lou appearing in both entries (with actress Courtney Taylor replacing Lisa Schrage for III), the tones of the two films couldn't be more different. Whereas II was darker and more of a direct homage to past horror films, III was an all out tongue-in-cheek black comedy.

"Tonally, horror was out in 1989, so PN3 made sense to them. I had written it very tongue in cheek, and we followed through on it. Lots of things I like about the movie but lots that I hate."

As for the two Mary Lous: "I don't have a favorite. Both ladies did lovely jobs with what little character I gave them. If I had it to do over again, with 25 years of experience, I would love to revisit the mythology and make it a full on nasty ghost story."

Today, he views the film with a combination of sentimentality and 20/20 hindsight: "I love the stylized stuff when we get to the alternate Prom world; love the look and colors of it all. I love many of the murder scenes and the garish comic book feel of it. I HATE that as a first timer I spent a great deal of time struggling with simple cinematic things, like eye lines and axis crosses, which ultimately don't make a bit of difference artistically. I was working with a very experienced but not-terribly-risk-taking crew and I listened to their counsel a great deal more than I should have; should have probably just gone with my instinct and the film would have been much crazier, much more to my tastes. And while I love Tim [Conlon] and David [Stratton] and Courtney [Taylor] and all of them, and think they did very well given what I saddled them with, I think I made a huge mistake in not casting 18 year olds versus almost-30-year-olds. It just feels off. But live and learn."

"I think what I'm trying to say is, the things about PN3 that I hate are all of my own creation; first time at bat, as it were. But it must be said that my DP on the picture, the very gifted Rhett Morita, and I were on a steep learning curve. We were doing absurd 20 hour days on that movie, and shooting in Toronto in the middle of freaking winter trying to do exteriors when the cameras would jam from the cold....but we were trying to make it look like anytown USA in the early autumn."

Even nastier than filming conditions was the financing of the film. "There's a marvelous and tragic story to be told about how PN3 was financed....suffice to say it involved the infamous Menendez family and a late dinner at Trader Vic's, and a deal was made to make the movie. A week later, we had to delay production because Jose Menendez and his wife, our dinner hosts, had been murdered. Ultimately it was revealed their killers were of course their sons....our OTHER dinner companions that night."

Simpson would produce one last entry for the series in 1992, Prom Night IV: Deliver Us from Evil. Yet despite the continued use of Hamilton High as the setting (plus some recycled shots from the opening prom scene of II) there was no Mary Lou, or Ron Oliver, in sight. "By the time they made 4, I was long gone from Toronto; had moved to LA and was trying to find my next gig. I don't think they ever considered bringing the character back again."

Oliver has long since graduated to much more contemporary and serious fare in entertainment, but everybody has to start somewhere, and there are still plenty out there who appreciate and remember the golden days of 80's horror.

"Making that movie was a thrill because it was my favorite kind of script....my own! Seriously though, the black comedy elements were lost on a lot of people at the time, but it seems to have taken on a life of its own over the years."

Mary Lou may have peaked in high school yet never obtained her crown, but with an Emmy nomination and two DGA nominations under his belt, Oliver still has a long and successful climb ahead of him.

Thanks for your time, Ron.

Lucille Ball: 1911-1989

2012-08-06T18:20:00.002-04:00

In honor of Lucille Ball's 101st birthday, I present a paper I wrote analyzing the impact she had on the worlds of comedy and feminism.

Known to billions worldwide simply as “Lucy”, the scatterbrained character she played variations of on four different television shows spanning the 1950s through the 1980s, the Lucille Ball behind the camera “had one focus: hard work” (Bloom & Vlastnik, 170). She channeled her hard work into comedy, and created a comic persona that is as much loved today as it was 60 years ago. Paradoxically, “as a sixty-foot image on the screen, the actress was only a journeywoman performer; as a sixteen-inch TV image, she turned into a superstar” (Kanfer, Preface, x). With the help of husband Desi Arnaz, Ball changed the face of broadcast television and pioneered the role of women in the entertainment industry. Her real-life accolades and triumphs aside, the actions of her TV characters, however zany and humorous, speak to the desire some women felt for liberation from the patriarchal society of postwar America. Her most famous incarnation, Lucy Ricardo on I Love Lucy, was particularly in tune with this idea, constantly struggling to break into husband Ricky’s nightclub act and form her own career in show business. Media critic Gerard Jones argues that “Lucy Ricardo was less a feminist than an argument for why women needed feminists. What she had was just an insane desire to be noticed. Lucy demonstrated how much energy, how much ambition was being wasted by the early fifties ethos that women should be in the kitchen” (Finding Lucy, CBS). Lucille Ball is both a cultural icon and a truly unique performer who continues to entertain us to this day.

Although television is where Lucille Ball struck gold, it was hardly her first attempt to find her acting identity. Indeed, she cycled through movies, theatre and radio before taking the small screen by storm in 1951. As biographer Kathleen Brady notes, “Television was her medium, and really nothing else was. It took television, which required all her talents, her wonderful expressions, her physical gifts, to really bring her to flower” (Finding Lucy). Before the advent of television, however, Ball tried her hardest to hone her skills in the movies, appearing in sixty-five films by 1948. Earning the unofficial title “Queen of the B Pictures”, Lucille played everything from chorus girl to romantic heroine, cycling through four major movie studios throughout the 1930s and 40s. Her best film appearances were those that showcased her comedic ability, such as The Fuller Brush Girl and Miss Grant Takes Richmond, but it was not enough to make her a major movie star. In those days, “the gospel according to Goldwyn was clear: funny women don’t sell tickets, beautiful women do” (Finding Lucy). Lucille had the good fortune to be both funny and beautiful, but the stringent rules of the Hollywood studio system did not make many allowances for such duplicity: glamour girls were supposed to be beautiful, not funny. As Lucille’s good friend and occasional guest star Carol Burnett put it, “She didn’t have that opportunity [to be funny]. They didn’t give it to her, so she went out and got it” (Finding Lucy). With the strong success of her CBS radio comedy My Favorite Husband from 1948 to 1951, plus the burgeoning medium of television, Lucille saw a golden opportunity not only get to work with her husband, Desi Arnaz, but also to take her comedic training to another level.

Lucille’s radio program was her first opportunity to hone her comedic timing in front of a live studio audience. Her longtime writer Madelyn Pugh Davis says that “Lucy learned to play to the audience; she was used to doing movies, so it was kind of a new experience for her to say the gag and look out at the audience”. Kathleen Brady elaborated by stating “she came alive before a live audience, and developed the expressions that she used on I Love Lucy while doing her radio show” (Finding Lucy). Sensing a hit for television, CBS wanted Lucille and her co-star, Richard Denning, to take the program to the small screen, but Lucy would only do so if her real favourite husband, Desi, could do the show with her instead. Ball explained that she was anxious to work with Arnaz, as he was constantly on the road with his band, and working together would allow them to stay together. The resulting deliberations became legendary, with CBS insisting that the public would not buy an all-American girl being married to a Cuban bandleader. Eventually the Arnazes won out because, as Robert Osbourne succinctly put it, CBS “needed her more than they didn’t want Desi” (Finding Lucy).

Already, Lucille was showing more determination and grit than most women in Hollywood, and her insisting that Desi do the show with her was one of the smartest moves she could have made. As stated by Lucille’s brother, Fred Ball, “Lucille would never have succeeded the way that she did without Desi…He put this thing together technically, financially, emotionally…he’s the guy that made it work” (Finding Lucy). Indeed, it was “The Bongo Player” who developed the three camera method of shooting in front of a live audience, knowing that Lucille needed an audience to perform to. The Arnazes soon proved to CBS how wrong they had been. With the ideal casting of Vivian Vance and William Frawley as the Ricardo’s neighbours and landlords, the Mertzes, the archetypical sitcom was underway. With each week of filming, the I Love Lucy team “invented from whole cloth the wheel of situation comedy…it was a format so successful it is still in use today” (Finding Lucy). More importantly, with each week of filming, Lucille Ball continued to nurture and perfect her comedic ability, unknowingly cementing her legacy on the entertainment world.

Lucille Ball was the first female comedianne to live up to the glory of her male predecessors. As Media Studies Professor Lori Landay notes, “There weren’t a lot of female role models for someone like Lucille Ball. She had to look to the male comics”(Finding Lucy), particularly the Marx Brothers, Red Skelton, Charlie Chaplain and Buster Keaton. It had been Keaton who had given her a great deal of comedic training, and taught her the importance of props. Kathleen Brady states that it was Keaton who taught Ball “ to take comedy seriously…that her props were her tools. She really had to treat them as treasures” (Finding Lucy). If that is so, then no prop was a greater treasure to Lucille than the Vitametavegamin bottle that appeared in I Love Lucy episode no. 30, Lucy Does a TV Commercial. In that particular episode, the brilliance of Ball’s ability plus the main crux of the series were never more well articulated.

The premise was simple: Lucy learns that Ricky is going to be hosting a television show, and becomes eager to get into the act. Ricky answers her with a resounding “no!” Determined to be involved, she quietly lets go of the girl Ricky hired to do the sponsor’s commercial and takes the job herself, not knowing that the product in question is a high-alcohol health tonic, Vitamegavegamin. After rehearsing the commercial several times, Lucy is soon too drunk to stand up straight but carries on pitching the product, and inadvertently bungles Ricky’s big evening. This episode has consistently been ranked the number one I Love Lucy episode for years, and is declared such in the 2001 50th anniversary special aired on CBS. Author Geoffrey Mark Fidelman speaks for most Lucy fans by saying that this “is the penultimate Lucille Ball performance…[she] is perfect; there is not a wasted gesture or inflection. With each line and movement, she keeps topping herself in a never-ending crescendo of comedy” (The Lucy Book, pp. 46). Ball herself later commented on the episode‘s popularity: “I think that Vitametavegamin bit is the best thing I ever did. And one of the hardest. God, I was nervous! It really gratifies me to know the audience loves it so much, generation after generation” (46). What makes the scene so enduring is Lucy’s honesty: she is not messing up because she is inefficient or stupid, but because she gets drunk rehearsing the commercial too many times. Each time the director asked her to drink, she did. The audience laughs not at her, but with her, as Lucy Ricardo is having just as much fun selling the tonic as the audience is watching her! When she interrupts Ricky during his solo, she is very tanked but still innocent and charming, and Ricky carrying her offstage while she screams out her lines is a brilliant coda. As Ricky would later tell Lucy four years later in the episode Return Home from Europe, “Being married to you isn’t easy, but it sure is a lot of fun”. The sentiment applies to Vitametavegamin as well as almost every episode of I Love Lucy.

The obvious love and affection between Lucy and Ricky Ricardo, not to mention Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, remains one of I Love Lucy’s most appealing aspects. By the mid-1950s, the couple had become so popular they even played variations of Lucy and Ricky on the big screen twice, in MGM’s The Long, Long Trailer and Forever, Darling. On another level, however, the series also set the standard for female friendship for every sitcom to come. The interplay between Lucille Ball and co-star Vivian Vance had a chemistry and ease that is nearly impossible to duplicate. Although the two actresses may not have seen eye to eye at first (“You don’t look like a landlady”, Lucille reportedly quipped. “I want a dumpy, fat woman in a chenille bathrobe and furry slippers with curlers in her hair” (Castellucio & Walker, 152) ), Lucille and Vivian eventually formed a sisterly bond and professional relationship that translated to the small screen beautifully. Writer Madelyn Pugh Davis recalls: “Vivian was a perfect foil for Lucy, they played together beautifully. They had a real friendship, and it made it so much funnier. They would get mad at each other or something, then they’d feel terrible and cry and make up” (Finding Lucy). Vance’s Ethel Mertz was the older, more disenchanted of the two women, and was often happy to join in Lucy’s scheming in search of a vicarious thrill. Over the course of 180 episodes (plus the 13 hour long specials aired between 1958-1960), Lucy and Ethel constantly frustrated their husbands by challenging their domesticity, and would continue to tread new ground in their later series, but it was Lucy acting as instigator who pushed the most cultural buttons.

Lori Landay feels that Lucille Ball and her writers found occasions “for laughter and pleasure by creating comedy out of the constraints of the postwar feminine mystique” (Kanfer, 315). The character of Ricky Ricardo is fully aware of his wife’s burning desires, and of her scatterbrained antics that often prevent her from succeeding, which may be his primary reason for trying to keep her at home: for her safety and others. This could be a clever mask for keeping the illusion of the husband’s power over his wife, but then again, the Lucy character would undoubtedly not be as inclined to act out against Ricky if he let her have her way more often. Even though “Lucy Ricardo was conniving, sneaky, and downright criminal at times, she was still an innocent at heart, usually wanting nothing more than a new dress, an opportunity to perform in her husband’s nightclub act, or a chance to pick a grapefruit from Richard Widmark’s tree” (Bloom & Vlastnik, 170). There is also, as Lori Landay points out, the ironic paradox of art being at odds with life:

"How seriously can we take Ricky’s injunctions that his wife can’t be on television when Ball and Arnaz are a husband and wife on television? On one level, the show does what on another level it says shouldn’t happen. This contradiction illustrates the gap between the social experience of the women who were working in the public sphere and the ideology that attempted to contain them within domesticity. The series itself is a kind of trick that encourages the audience to participate in the attractive image of the stars’ happy marriage, a fiction representative of postwar behaviour and attitudes that obscures asymmetry in the sex-gender system" (Kanfer, 315).

In this sense, I Love Lucy illustrates through humour that times were changing, by acknowledging the domestic ideology and deliberately going against it practically every week (it is also interesting to note that I Love Lucy director William Asher later helmed another groundbreaking sitcom with feminist undertones, Bewitched). Biographer Stefan Kanfer notes that “onscreen [Lucy] protested that her status was nothing to quo about, but that was only so that she could do her Sisyphus routine, making a grand effort - and then falling back to the starting point to begin again next week” (317). However, even if Lucy Ricardo never found a permanent escape from domesticity, during the nine years I Love Lucy was on the air she met more celebrities and experienced more exciting and daring situations than most people do in a lifetime. In the end, it was not her domestic confinement that mattered, it was her willingness to try anything that was the spirit of Lucy Ricardo; indeed, the same could be said for Lucille Ball.

In 1960, the Ball/Arnaz marriage finally ended, as did I Love Lucy. Even though they had started the show to keep their marriage together, the pressures of doing their own show and running their own studio ultimately drove them apart. Two years later, Ball once again was breaking new ground on network television, this time carrying on without Desi. She started another sitcom with co-star Vivian Vance, The Lucy Show, and succeeded Desi Arnaz as President of Desilu Productions, the first female studio head since Mary Pickford. In order to differentiate the new series from the old one, both Ball and Vance‘s characters were renamed and made single. As Ball told Look Magazine, “We have to be [single], with so many of our old shows around we’d look like bigamists” (The Lucy Show: Collector’s Edition, Linear Notes). Ball played the widowed Lucy Carmichael raising her two children, sharing a house with divorced friend Vivian Bagley and her son. Not only were two single women depicted living together in the same home, but Vivian Bagley was television’s first divorced female character. Once again, Ball was pushing the boundaries for women in entertainment.

Gerard Jones feels that Lucy “was wise to keep Vivian Vance around. In some ways, that relationship gets almost deeper in the second show with the absence of Ricky and Fred. You really see a years long female friendship with mutual understanding that you almost never see on TV” (Finding Lucy). Even though Vance left the series in 1965 to spend more time at home with her new husband, she continued to make frequent guest appearances on The Lucy Show and the subsequent Here’s Lucy, so that by the time of their last joint appearance together in 1977‘s Lucy Calls the President, she and Lucy had “completed a circle of friendship that stretched over 25 years and almost 300 television shows” (Finding Lucy).

After Vance’s departure, Lucy never again had a full-time female co-star out of loyalty to Vance, and relied mostly on famous guest stars to fill in the blanks, actors who only appeared on television because of Lucille. Her only remaining constant was character actor Gale Gordon, playing pompous, grouchy Mr. Mooney on The Lucy Show and pompous, grouchy Uncle Harry on Here’s Lucy. Ball, fiercely loyal to those she admired, adored Gordon, and their interplay as hot-headed boss vs. ditzy secretary is one of television’s most memorable friendly feuds. These later episodes often addressed the different views the characters held about money, as Mooney controlled Lucy’s trust fund while Uncle Harry paid her salary. This gave the Lucy character, like Lucy Ricardo, an undeniable dependence on a male superior. Lucy Carmichael (The Lucy Show) and Lucy Carter (Here‘s Lucy), however, had one thing Lucy Ricardo did not: a steady job. Although the character remained as scatterbrained as ever, Lucy’s shows did keep up with the times, and her character was now a single working woman, setting the scene for the upcoming That Girl and Mary Tyler Moore shows. By the end of Here’s Lucy in 1974, “Lucille Ball…existed in two time periods, in black-and-white and color, with Desi and without him - television’s first schizoid super-star” (Kanfer, 268). From 1951 to 1974, Lucille reigned as the First Lady of Television, a record she still holds.

All good things must eventually end, and while Lucy’s reruns could go on forever, Ball herself could not. She tried once more in 1986’s Life With Lucy at the age of 75. As Emily Daniels, wife of Life With Lucy director Marc Daniels recalls: “On the final series she was a grandmother, but she still had to behave the way she had when she was Lucy in the first year, and it just didn’t go…I just knew it was an omen of what was coming…which was the end of her career” (Finding Lucy). Physical comedy is difficult enough for young women, let alone those more than three-score and ten. Robert Osbourne shrewdly addressed the situation: “All she wanted to do was work as an actress, and all the public would ever buy her in was Lucy. And then it came that they wouldn’t buy her as Lucy, and then that was the tragedy of her life” (Finding Lucy). Although the public could no longer buy the present Lucy as “Lucy”, the “Lucy” still seen in reruns was as popular as ever. In 1989, shortly after Lucille‘s death, her legacy grew even stronger, and most amazingly of all, “each year she has grown in significance and popularity”, suffering no decline in reputation (Kanfer, Preface, ix). The apotheosis had begun, sealing Lucille’s unique fate on the impact of entertainment.

Lucille Ball’s career spanned every form of mass entertainment of her time, yet it was not in trusted, reliable mediums that she made her mark; it was in the brand new medium of television that she made her biggest impact, she and Desi Arnaz revolutionizing an entirely new way for audiences to look at commercial entertainment. Countless before and after her have come and gone, yet Lucy remains constant. Stefan Kanfer argues her longevity is due not just to her comedy, but being black-and-white: “There is something incompatible about humor and colour; the palette calls attention to itself, instead of to the jokes” (318). Lucille’s hair may have been flaming red, and was indeed visible to audiences on her later programs, but audiences do not need to see the colour of her hair to see the fiery spark present in Lucille Ball. Lucy Ricardo makes herself accessible to all because “her ability to create possibility where others would only recognize restraint, and her untiring optimism that this time her scheme will succeed, above all, keep [her]…alive and at the centre of our popular culture.” Feminist or not, Lucy speaks to the sense of adventure in all of us, the idea that if we take chances no matter what obstacles may be in our way, we just might have a chance to be in the show.

Works Cited

Bloom, Ken, and Frank Vlastnik. "I Love Lucy." Sitcoms: the 101 Greatest TV Comedies of All Time. New York: Black Dog & Leventhal, 2007. Print.

Castelluccio, Frank, and Alvin Walker. The Other Side of Ethel Mertz: the Life Story of Vivian Vance. Manchester, CT: Knowledge, Ideas & Trends, 1998. Print.

Daniels, Marc, dir. "Lucy Does a TV Commercial." I Love Lucy. CBS. 5 May 1952. Television.

Fidelman, Geoffrey Mark. The Lucy Book: a Complete Guide to Her Five Decades on Television. Los Angeles: Renaissance, 1999. Print.

Finding Lucy. Dir. Pamela Mason Wagner. CBS Paramount, 2001. Videocassette.

The Funny World of Lucy Volumes 1 & 2. Prod. Paul Harris and Sandy Oliveri. Goodtimes Home Video, 1993. DVD.

Kanfer, Stefan. Ball of Fire: the Tumultuous Life and Comic Art of Lucille Ball.
New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2003. Print.

The Lucy Show: Collector's Edition. Dir. Jack Donohue. Perf. Lucille Ball, Vivian Vance, Gale Gordon. Columbia House, 1997. Videocassette.

In Defense of "Bad" Movies: One for the Money

2012-08-02T19:14:00.000-04:00

One for the money, two for the show. Heigl's underrated and deserves another go!

In this recurring feature, I'll be discussing films that received negative critical and audience reaction and explain why I feel they deserve a second chance. I won't likely be claiming any of these films as true masterpieces or anything, but rather as enjoyable works of entertainment if taken for what they are and not what people want them to be.

I'll start off with a very recent critical and commercial bomb: Lionsgate's One for the Money. Based on the first entry in Janet Evanovich's wildly popular series about amateur bounty hunter Stephanie Plum, the film seemed an ideal beginning to a new summer franchise for women, to offset the vast number of male-oriented action blockbusters that usually occupy the timeframe. The plot concerns New Jersey native Stephanie Plum (Katherine Heigl), recently fired from her job as a lingerie buyer for Macy's in Newark, moving back to Trenton to try and get a grip on her life. Visiting her sleazy cousin Vinnie's (Patrick Fischler) bail bonds office in the hopes of obtaining a temporary filing job, office manager Connie Rossoli (Ana Reeder) instead persuades her to fill in as a bounty hunter while regular skip chaser Morty Byers (Fischer Stevens) is on medical leave. Initially planning to take on some simple civil cases, Stephanie is shocked to find that an old flame, Joseph Morelli (Jason O'Mara), is wanted for murder on a $500,000 bond, meaning she'd get $50,000 if she brought him in. Considering that Joe humped and dumped her back in high school, she decides bringing him in would be a perfect act of revenge in addition to curing her financial woes. Receiving training from primo bounty hunter Ranger (Daniel Sunjata), and obtaining some useful clues from a friendly hooker named Lula (Sherri Shepherd), Stephanie soon learns there's more to the case than meets the eye, and becomes just as concerned at proving Joe's innocence as she is with nabbing the money.

First published in 1994, One for the Money proved a tremendous success for author Janet Evanovich, a former romance novelist, who has since penned 18 Plum novels (the 19th is due in November this year), 4 Plum novellas, and several other series to boot. The material has long had the elements Hollywood loves to film: action, romance, comedy, sex, crime and thriller all rolled into one delightful package, yet for some reason they waited 17 years before acting on it. Though Evanovich sold the film rights to the book before it was even published, it continued to linger in development hell. A pilot for a proposed TV series was done in 2002, featuring Lynn Collins (X-Men Origins: Wolverine) as Stephanie, but the show wasn't picked up. One insider claims it was dreadful. Finally, in 2010, producers Sidney Kimmel and Wendy Finerman, working with a script by Liz Brixius, were able to get the film greenlit at long last.

Originally slated for a July 2011 release, Lionsgate abruptly delayed the opening to January 2012, hinting that executives feared critical backlash and financial losses on the final product. Thus the film opened with little fanfare and much derision in the bleak midwinter, barely recouping its $40 million budget and putting a final nail in the coffin for a Stephanie Plum film franchise anytime soon.

Holding a surprising and arguably unfair 2% "rotten" raiting on Rotten Tomatoes, almost nobody had anything nice to say about the film. The script and direction received universal denounciation, and star Katherine Heigl fared little better. The announcement of Heigl's casting in 2010 was a shock to most people, as she apparently hadn't made it on to many "Stephanie Plum dream cast" lists. While several reviewers felt she was the best thing about the film (and that she deserved better material), most felt she was terribly miscast and that her Jersey "accent" was awful. This translated into audience reaction as well. Heigl's confident assertion that "I will be your vision of Stephanie Plum" seems to have backfired horribly, and was perhaps spoken in haste by an actress who just felt extremely passionate about her new project.

One of the few people who was pleased with Heigl, and the whole film for that matter, was Janet Evanovich. Janet sang the film's praises the moment she saw it, and even did several joint interviews with Heigl to promote it. Calling Heigl "the perfect Stephanie Plum", she declared that the film was an improvement on her novel and that it gave her a whole new perspective on the world she created. Yet in spite of her endorsement, many fans were unimpressed with the final product, refusing to translate what was onscreen to the visions they had in their head, while non readers for the most part just seemed bored. What exactly went wrong? If the author could accept this interpretation of her work, why couldn't everyone else?

For the moviegoing public in general, not just the book readers, there was one obvious drawback that hurt this film even before it began shooting: a little 2010 comedy called The Bounty Hunter. Starring Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler, the film was not well received and seemed to sour the public on bounty hunter stories, which are more prevalent in fiction nowadays than they were in 1994. Perhaps had the movie been made 15 years ago when it was newer and fresher, One for the Money may have made more of an impact. Perhaps the timing was not right for all to appreciate the film on its own merits, given the competition, and hopefully its life on TV and home video will reveal its many charms over time. But for those who have their minds made up on who these characters are, there's probably no adaptation that could appease them.

To be fair, 17 years is a fair amount of time for long-term readers to nail a definite image of these characters in their heads. Even if the chosen cast matches the general template of character descriptions given in the book, die-hard readers will be critical of even the smallest difference. In the book, Stephanie Plum has curly brown hair, fair skin, good fashion sense, a nice figure, and a plucky attitude that disguises some of her insecurities and apprehension. As Plum, Katherine Heigl has curly brown hair (a very convincing wig), fair skin, GREAT fashion sense, a nice figure, and displays a plucky attitude that disguises some of the characters insecurities and apprehension. So the question in my mind is, what exactly did she do wrong? Did she look exactly like the character as pictured in my head? No. In fact, she fit the description of the book character better than I had ever pictured her. Evanovich said that she will be picturing Heigl from now on when writing the character, and I will be picturing Heigl in the part from now on as well. After viewing her performance, I honestly can't imagine another actress out there I'd rather see do the role.

Part of the reaction may have less to do with her performance and more to do with Katherine Heigl being one of the least popular actresses in Hollywood at the moment. I find the backlash against her very surprising and quite unfair. So she spoke her mind about a few things and some feelings got hurt, big deal! She's a talented actress who seems like a person you'd enjoy spending time with, and in my eye she imbibes Stephanie with these qualities as well. True, her movies on the whole have not been stellar choices that ideally display her full talent, and a number of people probably had the perception that this was just another Heigl "rom-com". While it may have similarities to some of her other roles, if you take her performance for what it is without any outside association (and I've seen very little of her work), she's perfect. I can't vouch for the accuracy of the accent that so many people criticised, but Janet said she did a good job with it so that's good enough for me. I think most people also have an exaggerated view of what a "Joisey" accent really is, and I commend Heigl for keeping it minimal and not attempting to overdo anything.

The rest of the cast fairs quite well too, in my opinion. Jason O'Mara, despite being Irish instead of Italian, infuses Morelli with sexual energy and much testosterone, and he and Heigl work well together, in spite of the press feeling otherwise. With the exception of Debbie Reynolds, in a delightful cameo as Stephanie's eccentric grandmother, the film has few big names. A lot of faces you may recognize from television, but no marquee headliners. Frankly, I found it quite refreshing to see a film that was cast with actors the creative team felt suited the characters, and not stuffed with A-listers just for the sake of luring in crowds to an unsure property. Some found them bland, but I found them fun and engaging, and most gave me new faces to put to the characters when I read the books from now on.

Director Julie Ann Robinson has been criticised for not nailing down a definite tone for the film, which does shift between comedy and action and crime quite rapidly. Many people seem to be locked in to "conventional" scripting techniques, and anything that deviates from the strict 3 act structure is wrong. Janet's books intertwine all of those tones and so does the film. While it's true that the mystery portion doesn't quite have the suspense or urgency it needs, it's certainly serviceable, and makes for a decent backdrop for this debut outing.

Heigl also provides some narrative voiceover, with some of the prose from the novel ported over to help tell the story through Stephanie's eyes. The voiceover was not a part of the original cut, as confirmed by Heigl, and those lines were obviously contributed by Stacy Sherman and Karen Ray, the two scribes credited before Brixius and therefore responsible for rewrites. The narration is surprisingly effective most of the time, but gets a bit redundant towards the end. Still, it's a nice touch that makes it a very personal story.

The cinematography and editing, while not awe inspiring, do what they need to do to tell the story. It's a rather low key story and it's shot in a low key way, but it looks great for what it needs to be. While parts of the story may be a tad underwhelming for some audiences, it's nice to see a film that doesn't resort to extremes the way so many Hollywood movies do. It plants itself firmly in the middle and remains solid because of it.

Is One for the Money groundbreaking cinema? Hardly. Is it really as bad as everyone says? Not at all. Is it a fair adaptation of a popular novel that retains the spirit of the story while adding a new perspective? Absolutely! I hope its life on home video and television will show people that there's a lot to be enjoyed from this little outing. Clocking in at a scant 91 minutes (the credits actually start to role at the 85 minute mark) it's fun, tight and really not much of a time commitment for those who are hesitant about sitting all the way through it. Some fans may be just as content to rely on their original book images, and if so I say go for it. But don't spoil it for those who do enjoy alternate interpretations. Just because it isn't done your way doesn't mean it's necessarily the wrong way. If the author of the books can set aside her original vision for it and allow this new one to enhance her experience of enjoying these stories, I don't see why we all can't make the effort. It's a shame the cast won't likely have the opportunity to film the next installment, Two for the Dough, as the characters become more defined as the series progresses and these actors could do a lot with the material. Perhaps with a more film inclined director at the helm the series could easily have a longer life ahead of it, but Hollywood isn't big on second chances at the moment, especially if it's an expensive gamble, as any sequel to this film would unfortunately be. I am grateful, at least, that we have one such Plum to enjoy for now.

You may have been told that it's a rotten plum, but I encourage you to take a bite out of it. It's much tastier than you might think.

A Boulevard in Brunswick - Maine State Music Theatre's "Sunset Boulevard".

2012-08-01T21:58:00.001-04:00

"Alright, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my closeup!"

So Norma Desmond declares in one of the most famous movie lines ever. The film is Sunset Blvd., Billy Wilder’s biting and unflinching 1950 film about Hollywood’s hitherto unknown dark side.

The story, for those few unfamiliar with it, concerns faded silent screen star Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), who lives in her gothic, secluded mansion with her manservant, Max (Erich von Stroheim). Norma is blissfully unaware that her public has long since forgotten her, and refuses to accept that silent films will never return, still idolizing the glamour of her past. Joe Gillis (William Holden), on the other hand, a young screenwriter who can’t find a job anywhere in town, thinks he sees Hollywood for what it is and holds a very jaundiced view of the business. Chased by finance men in pursuit of his car, Joe just happens to pull into the driveway of Norma’s mansion at 10086 Sunset Boulevard. He meets Norma, who, upon learning that Joe is a writer, hires him to edit her “comeback” script, Salome. Joe knows it’s an exercise in futility, but needing the job he agrees to stay with Norma and work on the script. As the story unfolds, Joe discovers more about Norma than he cares to know, and Norma begins to harbor romantic feelings for him…feelings he cannot fully return, not when he’s working on another new script with Betty Schaeffer, an idealistic script reader at Paramount who dreams of becoming a writer, and who thinks she and Joe Gillis are ideal partners in every sense of the word. Needless to say, the ending will have you reaching for tissues.

It remains one of the all time classic films, consistently landing on most people’s “Top 10/20/30” movies lists. So popular was it that in 1993, composer Andrew Lloyd Webber released a musical version that has played around the world and whose songs have long since entered the Lloyd Webber canon.

The stage adaptation, with book and lyrics by Don Black and Christopher Hampton, has allowed countless actresses the chance to put their own stamp on Norma Desmond. Over the years, the likes of Patti LuPone, Glenn Close, Betty Buckley, Elaine Paige, Helen Schneider, Linda Balgord, Diahann Carroll, Petula Clark and Rita Moreno have all donned Anthony Powell’s lavish costumes and descended John Napier’s gilded staircase, uttering the famous quote mentioned above and singing Lloyd Webber’s memorable tunes.

Although no large scale production has been mounted since the original closed in 1997, Sunset Boulevard has seen a flurry of regional revivals in recent years. Now, lavish sets make way for more sedate surroundings, and large ensembles are whittled down to the bare essentials. Such downplay for the sake of budgetary and space restrictions are not necessarily a detriment, as different stagings can highlight other aspects of the material even while foregoing others. Most recently, the Maine State Music Theatre in Brunswick has mounted a production, which I had the pleasure of seeing on Sunday, July 29th, and which is playing until August 4th.

This is the second production Maine has seen in 2 years, the first being an impressive effort at the Ogunquit Playhouse back in 2010, featuring a regal Stefanie Powers as Norma and Todd Gearhart as Joe Gillis. This new production, directed and choreographed by Marc Robin and presented by Steven C. Peterson, is admirably squeezed onto the tiny stage of the Pickard Theatre. The sets, which vary from Paramount Studios to Schawb’s Drugstore to the set of Cecil B. DeMille's Cleopatra (a production specific anachronism, as it's usually the historically accurate Sampson & Delilah), are mostly pretty backgrounds that do their job well enough but don’t especially knock your socks off. Norma Desmond’s mansion, however, the focal location of the piece, is another matter. Scenic designer Robert A. Kovach outdid himself in creating a fantastic interior for Desmondland, which is at once reminiscent of John Napier’s design while also standing on its own merits. Norma’s mansion may hold itself up high, but the production as a whole doesn’t quite capture the full emotional scope of the story. Shortcomings aside, it nonetheless manages to offer enough impressive moments to make it a worthwhile evening (or matinee) at the theatre.

In the pivotal role of Norma Desmond we have Denise Whelan, a talented actress who looks stunning in Anthony Powell’s elaborate costumes. Presenting the audience with a strong singing voice and a commanding presence, Whelan confidently navigates her way through Norma’s two big numbers, “With One Look” and “As If We Never Said Goodbye”. Decent singing aside, she unfortunately fails to capture the true imperial essence Desmond should possess. Hers is a more broadly comical Norma than we’ve seen before, often more reminiscent of Betty Hutton than Gloria Swanson. She cavorts around the stage with little of the slow, controlled grace the character should ideally show. Her comedic instincts are sharp, there’s no doubt about that, and when the dramatic moments count she delivers, but as a former silent screen star that didn’t make it in talkies she’s woefully unbelievable. Her Norma Desmond would have been a sensation in the talkies; a “Brazen Burgundy Bombshell” to rival Hutton. Had Whelan been directed with a bit more restraint in regards to the comedy, she would’ve come across more appropriate. As it is, while it’s certainly an enjoyable and original performance, it’s not truly Norma we’re seeing until the final scene.

Gregg Goodbrod, in the difficult role of Joe Gillis, acquits himself nicely. Energy wise he’s full tilt right from the get go, and his performance doesn’t waver far on the emotional scale much. However, that consistency serves him well, and he presents a Joe Gillis who is at once highly cynical yet not without compassion. There’s still some human being in there that Hollywood has yet to squeeze out. For some reason, a few of his early lines were re-arranged, and did not quite fit in their new locations, but he handled the changes well. Goodbrod is in fine voice and belts out the title song with gusto at the start of Act II. His high, sharp tenor is a nice contrast to the rich bass provided by David Girolmo’s Max. Girolmo also has the imposing heir a Max should have, and infuses much emotional warmth in his affection for Norma.

Betty Schaeffer, a sadly underwritten character who lost a lot of her edge in the transition from screen to stage, has been lucky to have some solid actresses play her over the years and provide some badly needed energy behind her characterization. Lauren Blackman does a terrific job, and is totally believable at showing naiveté with a savvy lust for learning all she can about the business. Vocally, she is so reminiscent of the original Los Angeles Betty, Judy Kuhn, that on more than one occasion I closed my eyes and swore I was listening to the American cast album. Betty’s love duet with Joe, “Too Much in Love to Care”, is in good hands with Blackman and Goodbrod.

The production features a modest ensemble of 11 actors, considerably smaller than the 29 members of the original company. I do not mean this to sound critical, as this is obviously not the West End we’re talking about here. On the contrary, considering the small size of the company, it’s even more impressive how effective they are. There is considerably more cast doubling among the ensemble parts than usual, but everyone involved is obviously having a blast and putting their best foot forward. Listening to the last group number of Act I, “This Time Next Year”, I was amazed I was listening to only 9 people singing, so powerful were their combined voices. It was also a hoot to see women participating in the usually all-male number “The Lady’s Paying”, where Norma treats Joe to a whole new wardrobe. It was even funnier to have men participating in the usually all-female number “Eternal Youth is Worth a Little Suffering”, where a phalanx of beauty experts give Norma a makeover before her supposed return to the screen. It’s a comedic number anyway, and watching the boys camp it up made it a downright laugh riot, with more delightfully gay overtones than Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

The biggest drawback in the company’s size does not affect the latter half of the piece, only the beginning. The opening number, “Let’s Have Lunch”, a cynical ensemble piece showcasing the shallow nature of Hollywood, is omitted entirely. Those who know the score by heart will no doubt feel a slight jolt at the jarring cuts. The cue underscoring is still present, and just when you expect to hear singing the dialogue kicks in. The next group song, “Every Movie’s a Circus”, is also almost entirely cut, with only a few of the solo verses remaining. The nine piece orchestra does a very admirable job of handling Lloyd Webber’s music, and manages to sound larger than they actually are thanks to the fine acoustics of the Pickard Theatre.

Unlike other regional attempts, this Sunset Boulevard does not fade entirely into the sunset once the curtain has fallen. Although the scope of the piece really demands a large stage with lavish production values, this small scale effort goes for the stars and manages to snatch a few. It’s shows like this that redeem the value of summer stock and regional theatre, and allow audiences to discover shows that are no longer the big ticket New York items they once were. It was wonderful to see a few audience members who clearly had no knowledge of the story being exposed to it for the first time. I distinctly heard one woman ask if the show was set in New York, and another pondered if the movie had been a musical as well (thankfully, both had friends with them to correct their misperceptions). Norma may have been forgotten, but Sunset Boulevard won’t be, if its newfound regional life is any indication.

Desmond herself may very well say: “The show is big. It’s the venue that got small!”
That’s very true, but not necessarily a bad thing at all.

Sunset Boulevard is presented by Steven C. Petersen for the Maine State Music Theatre, with direction and choreography by Marc Robin. Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Book & Lyrics by Don Black & Christopher Hampton. Based on the Billy Wilder film. Costumes based on the designs of Anthony Powell. Starring Denise Whelan, Gregg Goodbrod, Lauren Blackman, Curt Dale Clark, David Girolmo, Bill Nabel. Featuring Brian Michael Hoffman, Theo Lencicki, Charis Leos, Chuck Ragsdale, Courtney Romano. Scenic Design Robert Kovach. Costume Design Kurt Alger. Sound Design Colin Whitley. Lighting Design Nick Cyr. Production Staff Management Mark Johnson. Musical Direction by Edward Reichert. Sponsored by Mid Coast Hospital, Norton Insurance - Financial, The Times Record. Season Sponsors The Highlands & Highland Green. Sunset Boulevard is presented through special arrangement with R & H Theatricals and The Really Useful Group, Ltd. www.mhtheatricals.com. Sunset Boulevard logo TM & Copyright 1992 The Really Useful Group Limited.

Evita - How Brecht Met Broadway

2012-08-01T19:16:00.000-04:00

Whether we like it or not, we are once again facing a presidential election this fall. As a result, political celebrities are once again at the forefront of the American consciousness, wooing the masses with varying ideologies, winning some over while alienating others completely. So it is little wonder that works of art that deal with such a subject are once again extremely relevant. I am talking, of course, about Andrew Lloyd Webber & Tim Rice's hit musical Evita.

What with a Broadway revival currently playing at full force (producing a complete cast album to boot) and the recent 15th Anniversary Edition Blu-Ray of the 1997 film adaptation, Evita is very big news once again...not an accomplishment every 36 year old musical can achieve.

When Hal Prince's production debuted in London in 1978, it was met with critical derision but audiences loved it. They had never seen a musical of this kind before; one that was told in episodic segments and which made no attempt to stage each sequence naturally. At all times, one was keenly aware he or she was viewing a show. Not everyone may realize this, but the innovative staging that Prince brought to the production owes a debt of gratitude to German playwright Bertholt Brecht (1898-1956), without whom Evita may have turned out quite differently.

Bertolt Brecht’s contribution to theatre provided innovations that reformed a revolutionary style of performance. Although he was not the first to utilize such ideas, he was the first to synchronize them into such an effective and collective whole. His use of the verfremdungseffekt to create a greater distance between the performance and the audience was particularly important to him, “a distance which, ideally, would allow [the audience] to objectively contemplate and consider the events of the play and the nature of the characters". Although Webber and Rice’s intention may not have been completely in line with his purpose, Evita is arguably a type of neo-Brechtian Epic Opera.

Brecht’s use of the verfremdungseffekt, often translated as the ‘alienation effect’, is frequently misunderstood. Author Michael Patterson argues that a better translation is ‘estrangement’ because “’alienation’ too often suggests a deliberate intention to thwart the enjoyment of the audience” (The Revolution in German Theatre: 1900-1933, 159). In Brecht’s own words: “[alienating] an incident or character means simply to remove from the incident or character all that is taken for granted…to generate surprise and curiosity about them” (160). If a character or incident has no spontaneity, therefore, the audience has no need to question what has just happened. Predictability must be downplayed in order to achieve a proper emotional and questioning reaction.

While the actions of the characters must raise questions, however, the stagings of Brecht’s works were meant to be seen for exactly what they were: plays, not an illusion of real life. He disagreed with the concept of traditional “Aristotelian drama” that had the audience “identify with the characters and accept their fate rather than calling it into question…” (Gerould, 445). To counter the traditional dramatic view, Brecht tended to set his works in the past rather than present to help emphasize that the audience was seeing a deliberate re-creation of something that has already occurred, not an illusion of something happening in the present. Audience members could then ponder how such actions were relevant to their current social and political environment. Of particular note, Brecht utilized this approach in Mutter Courage und Ihre Kinder (Mother Courage and Her Children), written in 1939 but set during the 30 years war of 1618-48. As he stated, “The performance…possesses the quality of repetition. The incident has happened, now it is being repeated” (Patterson, 171). This element of obvious re-creation was further emphasized by making no attempt to completely disguise the transitions between scenes: “Don’t show him too much / But show him something! And let him be aware / That you are not magicians, but / Workers, my friends” (163-4).

In keeping with the non-realistic staging, Brecht also stressed the importance of his actors being “demonstrators” who were re-enacting these events rather than actually experiencing them. He expressed that an actor “must not allow himself to be completely transformed into the person he demonstrates” (171). Having certain characters break the fourth wall and address the audience directly, as well as “demonstrate” in a stylized manner by incorporating his idea of the Gestus, further elaborated on the story-telling aspect of his Epic Theatre.

In addition to straight plays, Brecht spoke of the possibility of music to enhance the work. Considering opera relies on underscoring and singing, such factors immediately denounce realism and proclaim theatricality. Therefore, it is natural that Brecht saw possibility to achieving his Epic Theatre goals through the operatic medium. He felt it should differ from the more traditional dramatic opera in that “Words, music and setting must become more independent from one another” rather than each working together equally (Gerould, 450). The music must tell the story by putting forth the text rather than serving it, and should serve more as an attitude compliment than psychological background. As with his view of theatre in general, Brecht saw opera as a chance to move beyond an instrument of mere pleasure “into an object of instruction… [converting] certain institutions from places of entertainment into organs of mass communication” (Gerould, 453). Opera could then have the same kind of effect as Epic Theatre, perhaps an even stronger one. Little could Brecht have imagined that, 20 years after his death, the worlds of Epic Theatre, opera and pop-music would make an unlikely collision thanks to Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice.

To be fair, all musicals are Brechtian to an extent: the act of bursting into song is very theatrical and does not allude to realism at all. However, many musicals sweep audiences away into fantasy, and the characters are often comedic, likeable and relatable, and prompt only applause and laughter rather than questions. Such characters of traditional musical comedy seldom have the complexity and perplexity of a Biblical figure or a seductive political icon. Two of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s earliest works each tell the story of two such legendary figures: Jesus Christ and Eva Perón. While both shows are similar in that they are episodic and entirely sung-through, Evita is arguably more neo-Brechtian than Jesus Christ Superstar.

Even if Superstar does make the audience question Jesus Christ and the actions of Judas, Jesus Christ is a far more universally known figure than Perón, and many people feel no need or desire to question him at all. Even though there are exceptions, to many he is simply the Messiah; a figure to be worshipped rather than doubted. Eva Perón is another matter. When considering the similarities between Argentina’s capital, Buenos Aires, and their home city of London, Webber and Rice saw “in the story of a charismatic populist who clawed her way to power by manipulating the trade unions…the presence of a cautionary tale” (Michael Walsh, 97). The fact that they were dealing with a powerful and somewhat frightening protagonist was emphasized when Rice told Webber, “I know you think she’s a bitch, but make her wonderful” (97). It was not their intention to create a historical docudrama, but rather a satirical reassessment of her life. Brecht’s shadow was already looming over the production even before the score was composed, as Webber and Rice’s decision to take thsi approach suggested early on that this project would make audiences face the dangers of fascism.

Initially conceived and marketed as a double “concept” album in 1976 (as Jesus Christ Superstar had been), Evita displayed a number of Brechtian elements before even reaching the stage. The plot was told entirely through song, leaving no doubt that this was indeed a story being retold in a new manner. In fact, seeing how the show opens at Eva Perón’s funeral, audiences will know the ending of the piece from the start. The narrator, Che, who serves as the ironic and bitter commentator throughout the piece, sings directly to the audience most of the time and only seldom addresses other characters. In his opening number “Oh, What a Circus”, Che raises the question as to whom exactly this “Santa Evita” was, and why her death has caused so many to mourn. From its beginning, Evita makes the audience ask questions; even though they know Eva’s ultimate fate, they do not yet know how she got to where she was, and anticipate the arrival of the “demonstrators” to retell her life story through song.

When selected to stage the piece for the West End and Broadway, Harold Prince made decisions that emphasized many of the Brechtian elements the concept album displayed. A harsh, nearly constant lighting design illuminated the practically bare stage, with only essential props appearing when necessary. There was no scenery, which Brecht would have approved of because “such fairy-tale indifference to historical detail imposes a non-realistic style on the design” (Patterson, 164). Costumes were approached with a degree of realism, as in Brecht’s own works, and most of Eva Perón’s costumes were based on historical photographs.

Prince initially envisioned having “Evita played by three different actresses, each to reveal different facets of her nature” (Walsh, 100), but Webber and Rice disliked the idea. Since each song on the album could be interpreted as an individual scene, Prince decided an episodic stage format would be appropriate. Author Michael Walsh notes that “Prince was not a cerebral, what-is-my-motivation-for-this director; instead, he was interested in making stunning stage pictures” (100). In that regard, Prince succeeded. The songs in Evita not only encompass a broad range of musical styles, including rock, Latin, classical and jazz (helping to set attitude rather than character psychology, as with Brecht’s Epic Opera), they are often very independent of each other in terms of the scenes they represent, despite sharing several recurring musical passages. For the most part, there are significant narrative gaps between each number. Rather than disguise this, Prince embraced it.

In keeping with Brecht’s template, each number was performed in a very stylized and non-literal manner, a number of them very memorable and original. In “Buenos Aires”, a jubilant young Eva Duarte kicks up her heels alongside the eligible men about town to celebrate her arrival in the Big Apple, singing directly to the audience about her dreams and ambitions. In the following number, “Goodnight & Thank You”, Prince symbolizes Eva’s climbing of the social ladder by placing her in the middle of a large revolving door; each time the door rotates, Eva kicks out this week’s suitor and in walks the new one. With each rotation, Eva gains another piece of jewelry or trinket; a succinct and effective metaphor for her rising to the top thanks to seducing successful men. A similar approach was taken in the proceeding number, “The Art of the Possible”, showing Juan Perón’s rise through the military ranks in a sinister game of musical chairs. Perón is the last one left. “Buenos Aires” and “The Art of the Possible” are also two examples of scenes that involved projections, a technique that had been utilized by Brecht. In the former scene, archive footage of the real Buenos Aires was presented, while archive footage of the Argentine military was shown in the latter. Photographs of the real Juan and Eva were also displayed in the Act I finale, further emphasizing that the actors seen on stage were not intended to be taken as the real Juan and Eva.

In a true Brechtian nod, the show’s finale consisted of a montage of previous songs before the dead Eva addresses the crowd with her “Lament”. Eva’s lament originally included a second verse on the album that helped explain her inner motivations, a verse that was rewritten and given to Che in London and eliminated completely in New York. While this made her character more ambiguous, it also heightened the Brecht connection, as that second verse delved deeper into her psyche than Brecht cared for his actors to do. After all, the actors should only demonstrate their characters, not become them.

Prince also added touches of visual comedy to accompany Rice’s often biting and sardonic lyrics. Utilizing choreography by Larry Fuller, the aristocracy, a major factor standing in the way of Eva’s rise to power, are depicted as snobbish high-society folk who walk together in a straight line in various haughty poses: some with their hands held high bearing cigarette-holders, others wrinkling their noses in disdain. Critic Frank Rich even made note of this “phalanx of chorus people who seem to have stepped out of the ‘Ascot Gavotte’ number of My Fair Lady” (Walsh, 106). The army officers who were against Colonel Perón’s flaunting of his mistress moved stiffly back and forth in exaggerated marches. No matter how much the main characters were reduced to satirical caricatures, it was those who disagreed with them who were presented in the most cartoonish fashion.

Not all Brechtian elements that appeared on the concept album made it to the stage. The character of Che as presented on the album was described by Michael Walsh as “an amorphous, Brechtian Everyman” (100), but Prince chose to make him identifiable as the revolutionary Che Guevara, in order to have the dissenting voice come from an actual historical figure in order to broaden the perspective. A minor comedic subplot that Che had on the album about developing an insecticide, in keeping with Brecht’s usage of comedy to break up the main action, was deemed irrelevant and scrapped, despite prompting clever (albeit corny) lyrics such as: “If you’ve got six legs I ain’t doin’ you no favours!”. In addition to the subplot, Prince dispended with the rock number “The Lady’s Got Potential”, in which Che informs the audience about both Eva and Juan’s increasing fame shortly before their first meeting. Despite the Brechtian approach of ignoring the fourth wall and giving information directly to the audience, the lyrics did include a minor endorsement for the capitalist system that Brecht argued so fervently against in Mutter Courage und Ihre Kinder. By removing this number and lyrical reference, Prince unwittingly strengthened the show’s Brechtian ties. The number was replaced onstage by the aforementioned “The Art of the Possible”.

The initial reviews Evita received upon opening in London were mixed, and not only confirmed its Brechtian roots but also led to modifications that strengthened them even more. Reviewing the London production in anticipation of its forthcoming Broadway opening, Frank Rich found it “a cold, uninvolving show that does little to expand the traditional musical comedy format or our understanding of a bizarre historical figure" (Walsh, 105-6). Rich had obviously experienced a type of verfremdungseffekt; the show made him ask questions and ponder her motivations. Some critics wondered if the show was deliberately glamourizing fascism instead of warning against it due to what was considered a sympathetic, pro-Evita stance.

In answer to this, undoubtedly in hoping not to receive the same response in New York, Rice modified a few of the lyrics for the Broadway production to make Eva even less sympathetic. In one of her earliest scenes, trying to persuade tango singer Augustin Magaldi to take her away from her dreary home town to glamorous Buenos Aires, her bemoaning “Who could ever be fond of the back of beyond?” became the snarkier “Who could ever get kicks in the back of the sticks?”. Later in the same song, her declaration of “I only want variety of society” became the more ambitious and cunning “I only want variety, notoriety”. Towards the end of Act I, when Che questions Eva about her acting career and affair with Colonel Perón, Eva’s response, “Acting is limiting, the line’s not mine. That’s no help to the Argentine” became the more self-involved “Is that the extent of your interest in me? It shows how futile acting must be”. Eva’s more self-involved personality, coupled with actress Patti LuPone’s more biting portrayal compared to the one given by her spunky London predecessor, Elaine Paige, helped make her more of a fascinating enigma and less relatable. Indeed, the American cast as a whole gave more individual, stylized performances than their London counterparts, thus elevating the obvious theatricality of the piece to an even more Brechtian degree.

The reviews the Broadway production received were little different than those in London. John Simon also accused the show of glorifying fascism, finding it an “artfully produced monument to human indecency”, among other things:

It is perfectly useless to say that Evita is not held up for approbation; a protagonist who displays cunning, energy, wit and, above all, phenomenal success will always seduce the unthinking masses, whether they be shirtless Argentines or bedizened Broadwayites…I am not arguing of course, that anyone seeing Evita will rush out and do likewise, but I am saying that a show like this ends up glorifying a base opportunist and Fascist…how would [oppressed minorities] feel about a musical whose protagonist was Stalin, Hitler, or that other Eva, Braun – even assuming that the show would include a choric Mandelstam or fictionalized Einstein to berate that protagonist? (Walsh, 107-8)

By suggesting that audiences would not be inspired by Eva to follow in her footsteps, he is inadvertently suggesting an alternative Brechtian response: to fear glamorous, charismatic people with strong, personal agendas gaining power and manipulating the masses. If indeed audiences found themselves temporarily mesmerized by Eva’s power-hungry charm, only to see the negative results it produced, they would question not only Evita-like figures but also themselves, and could learn to desensitize themselves to her contemporaries in order to prevent such a government from happening again. The show’s original choreographer Larry Fuller, who mounted a touring production of Prince’s original staging in 1999, noted that "History repeats itself. Audiences will relate to the message that if you glamorize and package something in an attractive way - even fascism - you can sell it to the general public…people today have become distrustful of political figures, so I think the show now has a greater resonance” (Spindle, The Charms of “Evita”). In an age where government is indeed under close scrutiny from the public, people may not need an Evita to make them ask questions, but it does stand as a potent reminder of the past.

However Brechtian the show may be in its written form, it was Hal Prince’s staging that truly emphasized the connection. Michael Grandage’s London revival of 2006 (which transferred to New York in 2012), the first non-Prince staging to be professionally performed, de-emphasized many of Prince’s approaches. The episodic structure was made less obvious through more fluid, but nonetheless theatrical, transitions. The inclusion of “You Must Love Me”, written by Webber and Rice for the film as Eva’s admission of her impending death, strengthened her character realistically and made her more sympathetic. In addition, Eva’s second verse of the “Lament” was restored for the first time since the concept album, thereby creating a more developed character and less of an enigma. Appropriate enough for one striving for artistic realism, but not for Brecht. One notable change Grandage made that was more Brechtian than in Prince’s production was reconverting Che back into the amorphous Everyman he had been on the album (sans insecticide plot).

Although Bertolt Brecht may not have gotten the desired uprising out of his audiences, his works nonetheless prove that Epic Theatre is a perfect format for presenting major social and political concerns to audiences. As Mutter Courage und Ihre Kinder attempted to do with capitalism, Evita attempts to show the effects of fascist regimes and bitter personal agendas.

Historical accuracy is irrelevant. What does matter is the agenda driving the show and its intended effect on the audience. Although Webber and Rice surely did not intend audiences to race to the aid of other nations to overthrow such regimes, Evita nonetheless could make them fear such a regime ever taking over their own country. As history has proven, fear can provoke powerful reactions from those oppressed. If Brecht’s audience did not fear capitalism enough to take a powerful enough stand against it, Evita’s audience, and especially critics, proved themselves to fear fascism enough to never want to see it happen to them. If Evita helps prove anything to a theatrical audience, it’s that although such a narrow-minded political focus can bring you everlasting infamy, it nonetheless can provide devastating consequences to certain sects of populations and to their respective nations. It is here that Brecht’s idea succeeds, for if the problems of past and present are brought into the light for questioning, then perhaps people will learn to prevent them from affecting the future.