Yoo-Hoo, Mrs. Goldberg, Aviva Kempner

A documentary about the life and radio/television career of Gertrude Berg, creator and star of shows featuring the eponymous Molly Goldberg. Though we are not the film's target audience, there's much to like about this quirky retelling of one of broadcast entertainment's early successes.  Interweaving photographs, interviews, footage from Berg's television show, as well as unrelated movies, the film fills in a forgotten gap in the early days of radio and television serials. The film's narrative arc peaks when her co-star, Philip Loeb, is blacklisted and forced off the show, thereby explaining both the eventual demise of her show and its loss to the nation's collective cultural memory.  

Her shows captured the near-mythic story of a middle-class (recent) immigrant family living in a closely knit community of a Bronx tenement, where windows facing the airshaft served as the primary conduit for gossip, advice, and care.  By depicting Jewish traditions and showing Jewish families as patriotic Americans, she helped make East European Jews appear less threatening and more in line with mainstream values. 

In making the case for restoring Berg to the pantheon of broadcast pioneers, the documentary sometimes resorts to hyperbole, making me in retrospect suspicious of what seemed to be otherwise credible claims for her importance.   

I got the feeling that Kempner had a difficult time omitting anyone who'd agreed to be interviewed on camera. Hence the film's repetitive nature and tangents that didn't lead anywhere. Kempner probably hoped to bring her audience closer to Berg's world by using contemporaneous films to illustrate the condition of the turn-of-the-century NYC immigrant. Instead, the effect was to add a layer of unnecessary confusion, making viewers never certain if we were watching authentic or fictive images.  

For anyone interested in early broadcast history OR whose relatives grew up in the NYC boroughs. Recommend with caveats.    

The Hurt Locker, Kathryn Bigelow

The movie opens with its premise projected on a black screen.  "War is a drug."  And for the next two hours, we watch an adrenaline junkie stringing out a one life-threatening situation after another--and dragging his co-dependents along with him.  Primarily focusing on a bomb-defusing trio--James, Sanborn, Eldridge (played superbly by Jeremy Renner, Anthony Mackie, and Brian Geraghty)--the film develops complex characters and doesn't resort to war-buddy or patriotic sentimentality.   

With a son preparing to start Army basic training within the month, I've been working to prepare myself psychologically.  In order to dislodge unsubstantiated preconceptions, I've been trying to absorb as much about this war as I possibly can.  This movie confirmed one of my greatest fears: not the dangers of war and combat but the dangers of bad leadership.  In addition to the war junkie who leads his men into unnecessary danger, we're also given brief glimpses of an officer whose moral bearings are skewed.  When he coldly disregards the military's conventions for treating prisoners of war, we're reminded why the American military is having such a difficult time ending this war.

This film is violent from start to finish, but not gratuitously.  Bigelow shows us a lot, but not so much that we think we can afford to turn away.

Highly recommend--but with a warning that the contents are disturbing.

Midsummer Night's Dream, Shakespeare

I'm a devotee of free Shakespeare summertime productions. I never saw a live performance of a Shakespeare play before I was in college. And then the first one I did attend was a free, outdoor performance at Hermann Park's Miller Theater, one of the first produced by the Houston Shakespeare Festival.  I don't remember the play--partly because the acoustics were so poor that I couldn't follow the play at all--but I do remember the quiet joy of walking over to the park with cheerful friends, a light meal, a bottle of wine, and a blanket, and then feeling the cool gradually creep through the park.  In the summer, after sunset holds Houston's best hours, and the experience seemed a complete luxury. 

After only two summers, I moved away and hadn't see another Shakespeare production--in a park or theater--for another fifteen years, when I rounded up the neighborhood grade-school-aged kids (mine included) and took them to see Twelfth Night in a Lubbock, Texas park.  The whole evening was absolutely enchanting.  T & K still laugh when they remember the yellow stockings.

A summer or two later, my children and I had just moved to New Haven. Our first excursion was to see the Elm City Shakespeare Players' production of The Tempest in Edgerton Park.   Ever since, my summer hasn't been complete unless I've seen Shakespeare in a park.

Tonight, for the first time, I saw Shakespeare in a zoo, an apt setting for Midsummer Night's Dream: a peacock perched above the proscenium and trumpeted throughout.  This production was extremely audience friendly, with plenty of exposition added to ensure even the most novice audience member could follow the narratives.  Unlike my first experience with outdoor theater 30 years ago, the performers were well miked, allowing for everyone to easily understand the dialogue.  And, as I've come the love, the evening air was delightful, the audience appreciative, and the company of friends warm. 

Very family friendly; recommend.

Unmistaken Child, Nati Baratz

For a gentle two hours, we watch as Tenzin Zopa, a Tibetan monk, searches in the valleys of Nepal and Tibet for the reincarnation of his master, Geshe Lama Konchog. In an apt symmetry, Tenzin returns to the valleys where Lama Konchog often retreated, to the same village of his birth, from where the master had once taken the young Tenzin. So the master becomes the child, the child the master.

There is no omniscient narrator, only Tenzin at the beginning recounting his feelings of depair at the death of Geshe La. Thereafter, the viewer is an eavesdropper on the very intimate project of locating and identifying his beloved master. The film's most joyful scenes feature Tenzin playing with the child, clearing demonstrating his deep devotion to the master.

Not surprisingly the most visually "authentic" moments are in the mountain villages, accessible only by foot. Except for the occasional Nike shirt or modern gadget, these peoples live in ways that probably have not changed much in the past century. Equally "authentic" are the scenes in the Buddhist temples. Inside the monks' quarters, however, it's like a shrine to Walmart consumerism, not in the quantity of goods--though there's more than I'd expect--but in the quality of the goods: the same shoddily made stuff found at discount retailers in the west.

Though the cinematographer had great vistas, mysterious interiors, and fascinating faces as his subject, the quality of the film was little better than a home video.

Recommend.

The Stoning of Soraya M., Cyrus Nowrasteh

An extraordinarily compelling depiction of the barbaric practice of stoning, this film's strength lies in its subject matter. As befits the subject matter, there is nothing subtle in this film. The male antagonists are clearly identified within the first minute, and our understanding of them seldom strays from first impressions. The men, particularly Soraya's husband, Ali, seldom rise about caricatures. On the other hand, the female protagonists remain defiant victims throughout. Their virtues are never questioned and our sympathies for them never waver. An important source of the tension is the time and place: 1980s rural Iran, where Sharia law rules but memories of more western practices have not faded. Though I tried to resist, it's easy for a western observer to believe the unrelieved misogyny in Iran after the Islamic revolution.

The film's climactic stoning scene of the stoning is one of the graphic scenes of violence I've ever witnessed: Soraya, buried up to her chest in a pit, with only her torso and head above ground, in becomes a fixed target for the villagers' stones collected by the children. Rather than a general melee of stones, the film depicts a slow process, wherein the men closest to Soraya--her father, husband, and sons--are chosen to pelt the first stones: each man knows exactly the damage he inflicts. Eventually, the process devolves into a free-for-all.

This grim scene is followed by an unnecessarily clever, even comic, getaway for the journalist.

Despite its flaws, the film deserves our attention.

Recommend.

The Girl from Monaco, Anne Fontaine

A comic legal caper about a Parisian lawyer definding a client in a high-profile murder case in Monaco. The film makes it clear that he uses his spare time chasing skirts rather than preparing for court the next day. He's trail--and then accompanied--the entire time by a bodyguard hired by his client's family. Most of the attorney's energies are used to chase the local TV weathergirl, and yet the real chemistry is between the attorney and his bodyguard.

Recommend.

Whatever Works, Woody Allen

Another in a long-line of cinematic love-songs to NYC, Whatever Works features Larry David as Boris Yellnikov, ultimate New Yorker whose chance encounters with runaway members of a Christian Mississipppi family allows them to discover their repressed selfs and, hence, themselves. As the movie implies, only in NYC could individuals be given the opportunity to be true individuals.

For the first third of the film the look and the acting are flat. I became more engaged when the ever sunny Melody (played by Evan Rachel Wood) began to espouse Boris' nihilism--and the film continued to pick up speed with the arrival of first her mother (Marietta played by Patricia Clarkson) and then her father (John played by Ed Begley, Jr.). Marietta finds happiness as an art photographer in a menage a trois; John finds a gay lover. Even Boris, the self-proclaimed genius physicist, finds happiness with a psychic.

Recommend.

Public Enemies

I'm certain that the late hour and the two glasses of wine at dinner contributed to my reaction to this movie, but the movie must bear some of the blame. Unusual for me, I had difficulty following the plot and keeping up with the characters. The female characters were easy to distinguish, but their parts were generally minimal. And I could keep up with the two lead male characters played by Johnny Depp (John Dillinger) and Christian Bale (Melvin Purvis). The rest, however, were indistinguishable. Could it be because they all talked like gangsters and law enforcement officer, barely audible through clenched jaws? Or they all dressed alike? Whatever the cause, it certainly made me sympathize with the FBI officers who let Dillinger walk around, unrecognized, in their midst. And one more thing--and this must be the wine's fault--I blended Pretty-Boy Floyd and Baby-Faced Nelson into one character and couldn't figure out how he came back from the dead.
The depiction of violence and bloodshed didn't surprise me; I would have preferred less lingering, though.
Throughout, the movie teases us with promises of psychological insights into the three lead characters (Dillinger, Purvis, and Billie Frechette, played by Marion Cotillard) yet doesn't really deliver. Especially intriguing is Purvis' gradual disillusionment with J. Edgar Hoover's FBI, culminating (we're made to suppose) in his 1960s suicide. This point, however, seems to be one of the film's many liberties.

Caveats.

Away We Go, Sam Mendes (director)

So. My pregnancy with my first child may have been 24 years ago, yet most of the worries and anxieties remain fresh in my soul. Will I be a good enough parent? Will I guide this child to an adulthood beyond the cubicle? Will this pregnancy make me old and ugly? Will my marriage survive parenthood? Will I survive motherhood? I'm glad to report that the answers are Yes, Yes, Yes, No, and Yes.

Mendes' Away We Go captures these questions from the perspective of today's 30-somethings. Not quite fuck-ups, but certainly not carving out middle-class American lives, Verona and Bert search for the perfect place--and by implication--the perfect mode in which to raise their soon-to-be-born daughter. As they travel about the country, checking out locales, family, and friends, we're treated to great comic moments, usually at the expense of caricatures representing parenting extremes. But just as we begin to feel uncomfortably smug, we're asked to sympathize with those who face the sadder side of parenting, the loss and disappointment that's magnified when parents care so much and try so hard.

And like any good travel film featuring a pregnant woman, the story ends with a heavy dose of sentimentality.

Thus, three Ss--smugness, sympathy, and sentimentality--tie this film together for a nice summer treat.

Recommended.

Macbeth, Shakespeare

Transferred to the chaos and bloody rivalry of a pseudo-post-colonial African setting, Stratford's production of Macbeth provided a engaging interpretation of the play.  It made very effective use of total blackouts at significant moments, most particularly during the murder of Banquo, only to have the banquet scene commenced when the lights come back up.  Perhaps it was playgoer's fatigue, but I found the lines a bit too rushed and the action too hectic.  Nevertheless, it provided a fitting ending to a spectacular series.

Ever Yours, Oscar

Built upon the letters of Oscar Wilde, this reading by Brian Bedford (also playing Lady Bracknell in Earnest) provided intimate glimpses into the man of letters, both familiar and unguessed.  Not exactly the dramatic monologue we'd anticipated, the performance was nevertheless moving.  

Unlike most brief accounts of Wilde's biography, this performance heavily emphasized how the two-year prison term shifted Wilde's perceptions by including long passages decrying how young children were treated in English prisons and questioning why sympathetic wardens were dismissed for insubordination.  

Recommended--with the understanding that the performance is not exactly as promoted.

Bartholomew Fair, Ben Jonson

Any staging of Jonson's Bartholomew Fair is rare, so it's a treat to see a fine production of the play.  Held together with the thinnest of plots, the play primarily delights in its exploration of the sights and sounds of London street life.  The first scene's Puritan household is quickly abandoned for the fair with its pork roasters, tapsters, pickpockets, whores, cons, dupes, as well as the culminating puppet show. 

This must be a maddening play to produce.  Featuring at least half a dozen subplots, it requires 40 actors on stage. On the page, the text is extremely difficult to read and determine exactly what's going on.  Thus, it's wonderful to have a production that's done so much work for its audience.  The various threads were clearly laid out and easy to follow.  Often multiple encounters scattered across the entire stage vied for the viewer's attention, yet the staging kept the eyes and mind focused on the most significant bits.

The acting was uniformly strong, and the staging effectively conveyed the zany energy of the play. I was particularly impressed by Abigail Winter-Culliford's performance as Mooncalf, Ursla's tapster. Only 12, this young actor maintained an active presence both fore and aft through 75% of the play.    

Recommended.

Cyrano de Bergerac, Edmond Rostand

Here’s the first play at Stratford to which Mike and I had distinctly different reactions.  The play elicited vague indifference from Mike, while I thought the production was magical.  After discussion, it seems that he reacted primarily to Rostand’s play, and I reacted to the production.

Though I was familiar with the play’s primary plot—Cyrano lends his poetic abilities to Christian so the latter might woo Roxanne—I’d never seen a live version.  Much of Cyrano’s character is developed in the confusing secondary plots which establish some of the questions on which the play revolves: how much do principles determine behavior? How much do individuals hide their insecurities behind the veil of principles? How willing are we to forfeit happiness rather than risk being mocked?  Using the Anthony Burgesses translation with liberal use of the French original for spice, the performance captured the chaos of the taverns and battlefield, allowing the primary plot to rise above the confusion but requiring much attention to gather the secondary plots.

It's easy to consider the play as a product of the 17th century (when it is set) rather than a late-19th-century throwback reacting against the naturalism and realism then dominating the stage. With that in mind, its romance verges closer to sentimentality than I'm generally happy with. 

Colm Feore’s performance (as de Bergerac) clearly outshone all others this afternoon.  The staging was magical, beginning with the lone boy in sneakers transformed into a rapier-brandishing cavalier by the quick addition of a few props, and ending with de Bergerac’s final dying soliloquy.   

Recommended.

Julius Caesar, Shakespeare

In addition to excellent acting, this production featured effective costuming and sets.  And a "musical score" lent the play certain cinematic qualities.  

A couple of observations.

1. This play remains on the short list of Shakespeare plays read in high school--at least in Connecticut where I teach.  Consequently, some of the famous scenes can seem like flat set pieces.  Not so tonight. Mark Antony's oration felt fresh, and I found myself hanging on each word, knowing that with each line he was undermining Brutus' "honorable" plans. 

2. This production made Brutus and Mark Antony equally appealing.  I found myself wanting them to negotiate a peace rather.

Recommended.

 

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum

I suspect that Stratford's production of the 1950s musical is as fine as it gets.  Nevertheless, I found the musical numbers tedious. Once again, my dislike for musicals is confirmed.

Obviously, Stratford includes it (along with West Side Story, this year) because it generates large attendance numbers and thus income.  But, why, why, why, must they mic and amplify the performers?  The theater's not that large, and surely the singers have voices large enough to fill the space.  

Caveats.

The Three Sisters, Anton Chekhov

In the past, Mike and I often noted that Chekhov wrote only one play with four different titles.  In retrospect, we found it difficult to distinguish in our memories between productions of the various plays.  This production--continuing a pattern established earlier this summer with Katona Josef Theatre Company of Hungary's Ivanov--is memorable.  

Much of the credit for this goes to the fine translation.  Then, the production works to distinguish each character from the others with recognizable traits and quirks.  For instance, Masha is first seen reclining, and she frequently takes that pose throughout the play.  Solyony, on the other hand, punctuates the scenes with odd clucking/crowing noises.  Most importantly, the production works to make sense of every line.  In doing so, the audience is repeatedly prepared for the lines long before the characters' words are delivered.

One of the great pleasures in attending this performance was the audience, which included a large number of students who are part of the Festival's Shakespeare Summer School.  They were thoroughly engaged with the play, audibly sighing, gasping, and even crying.  How could one fail to be moved when those about were so obviously touched?

Recommend.

The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscar Wilde

This production of Wilde's savagely comic masterpiece makes clear just how good the play is. Although I've seen the play several times, I never grow tired of it.  In fact, I found that anticipating some of the well-turned lines provided an essential aspect of the play.   The play, which depends upon impeccable timing and high energy, was magnificently conceived and flawlessly performed. And because the Festival attracts savvy audiences, they contribute to the fun of the puns and double-entendres.

Beginning with the frothy, wedding-cake-like sets, and continuing with the fine acting, Stratford's production was precise without being stuffy.  

Tonight's production opens with the high energy of Mike Shara and Ben Carlson (as Jack and Algernon)--which becomes electrifying when Brian Bedford (as Lady Bracknell) takes the stage.  The energy somewhat wanes when Sara Topham and Andrea Runge (as Gwendolen and Cecily) are on the stage alone; however, they more than carry their weight when all the ensemble is on stage.

 

Cheri, Stephen Frears

A story of a woman in her fifties seducing a man in his twenties? What’s not to like? Lots. Like their affair, this movie is beautiful to behold but boring. Michelle Pfeiffer's efforts aren't enough to make this an engaging film.

Caveats.