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Ava Gardner #1
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Thank you, it is nice to be appreciated!
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DVD TALK
Touch of Venus Other // Unrated // October 14, 2008List Price: $14.98 [Buy now and save at Amazon]
Review by Jeffrey Kauffman | posted October 3, 2008 | E-mail the Author | Start a Discussion
The Movie:
You have to wonder sometimes what goes through movie executives' minds (assuming, of course, that they have minds) when you watch a film like 1948's One Touch of Venus. Based on a hit Broadway musical featuring a gorgeous score by Kurt Weill and Ogden Nash (yes, of "remember, Kublai Khan and Immanuel Kant" fame), and starring a glamorous Mary Martin in one of her signature roles, Universal International (not exactly known for its great musical films) instead stripped this adaptation of all but two songs (with a reworked third) from the Broadway production. They then plopped down a lovely if miscast Ava Gardner, as a statue of Venus come to life, amid a Frank Tashlin penned script that posits Robert Walker as a sort of Darrin to Gardner's Samantha in a late 40s precursor to Bewitched. What a waste.
One Touch of Venus, a bit like My Fair Lady a decade and a half later, takes the Pygmalion myth as its source material (though of course in Lady's case it's used as a metaphor). In this filmic version, hapless department store window dresser Eddie Hatch (Walker) gets a little drunk and kisses a priceless statue of Venus recently purchased by the store's owner, Whitfield Savory (Tom Conway), bringing it to life. Soon Walker's girlfriend (Olga San Juan) and best friend (Dick Haymes) are pretty much convinced he's crazy, while Savory is convinced Hatch has made off with his priceless treasure, since the now living Venus manages to avoid being seen by everyone but Hatch, at least for the opening half of the film.
What was a charming and dreamlike escapade in its Broadway incarnation, with direction by Elia Kazan (one of only two musicals he ever worked on) and choreography by Agnes de Mille, is just a pedestrian piece of farce here, and unfortunately never very funny farce at that. Walker tries admirably to make his Hatch a lovable buffoon, but he's simply too intense to be a light comedian. Gardner seems ill at ease with the strange juxtaposition of a Hellenic goddess confronting the mores of 1940s America, something the original Nash and S.J. Perelman book mined to great effect, but which is largely ignored in the film. The best performance here by far is Eve Arden's, doing her patented love struck, smart alecky secretary routine to Conway's foppish boss. San Juan gets a couple of good moments in when she loses it with Walker, ultimately falling for Haymes. Haymes' singing voice is spectacular, which doesn't help mask the fact that he's one of the most wooden actors of this era.
The biggest complaint I have about One Touch of Venus is the insane decision to make it more or less a non-musical, keeping only the Broadway version's signature hit "Speak Low" (which is recast here to serve as a duet between Gardner--dubbed by Eileen Wilson--and Haymes, weirdly enough, and even rewritten to make its final cadence and lyric completely different from the original version) and an excerpt from the comedy number "That's Him." There are also two brief snippets of a rewritten version of the original's "Foolish Heart," now called "Don't Look Now, My Heart is Showing." It's just silly. This was one of Weill's biggest Broadway hits, and it was the only book musical for which Nash contributed lyrics, and to eviscerate the score like this is, to a musical theater lover like me anyway, blasphemy.
Why the Hollywood powers that be never capitalized on Mary Martin's photogenic abilities, strong performance skills, not to mention her singing, is one of the great mysteries of the Golden Age of film. One Touch of Venus could have been a frothy romantic romp with a young Martin in the lead, singing at the very least more of the great Weill-Nash score than is included here, and bringing a spunk and spryness to the role that Gardner, despite her exotic beauty, just can't quite muster. As it is, One Touch of Venus is as lifeless and cold as the statue that is at the center of its plot.
The DVD
Video:
There's some fairly bad damage early on in this full frame transfer, with jumpy credits and a missing frame or two. Scratches and debris continue for the first reel or so, and then taper off, leaving the rest of the film actually looking pretty good for its age. Contrast is good, sharpness is excellent and the black and white image is for the most part eminently watchable.
Sound:
The remastered DD 2.0 soundtrack also exhibits some distortion and damage early on, especially in the opening credits when the choral singing is badly broken up. Higher registers throughout the film tend to get a bit rough. Once you get past the credits, however, there's nothing too grating to deal with. There are English and Spanish subtitles available.
Extras:
The only putative extra is a set of Lionsgate trailers.
Final Thoughts:
Fans of Gardner may want to rent this for an early look at Ava. For everyone else, you can Skip It. ____________________________________________
"G-d made stars galore" & "Hey, what kind of a crappy fortune is this?" ZMK, modern prophet
Touch of Venus Other // Unrated // October 14, 2008List Price: $14.98 [Buy now and save at Amazon]
You have to wonder sometimes what goes through movie executives' minds (assuming, of course, that they have minds) when you watch a film like 1948's One Touch of Venus. Based on a hit Broadway musical featuring a gorgeous score by Kurt Weill and Ogden Nash (yes, of "remember, Kublai Khan and Immanuel Kant" fame), and starring a glamorous Mary Martin in one of her signature roles, Universal International (not exactly known for its great musical films) instead stripped this adaptation of all but two songs (with a reworked third) from the Broadway production. They then plopped down a lovely if miscast Ava Gardner, as a statue of Venus come to life, amid a Frank Tashlin penned script that posits Robert Walker as a sort of Darrin to Gardner's Samantha in a late 40s precursor to Bewitched. What a waste.
One Touch of Venus, a bit like My Fair Lady a decade and a half later, takes the Pygmalion myth as its source material (though of course in Lady's case it's used as a metaphor). In this filmic version, hapless department store window dresser Eddie Hatch (Walker) gets a little drunk and kisses a priceless statue of Venus recently purchased by the store's owner, Whitfield Savory (Tom Conway), bringing it to life. Soon Walker's girlfriend (Olga San Juan) and best friend (Dick Haymes) are pretty much convinced he's crazy, while Savory is convinced Hatch has made off with his priceless treasure, since the now living Venus manages to avoid being seen by everyone but Hatch, at least for the opening half of the film.
What was a charming and dreamlike escapade in its Broadway incarnation, with direction by Elia Kazan (one of only two musicals he ever worked on) and choreography by Agnes de Mille, is just a pedestrian piece of farce here, and unfortunately never very funny farce at that. Walker tries admirably to make his Hatch a lovable buffoon, but he's simply too intense to be a light comedian. Gardner seems ill at ease with the strange juxtaposition of a Hellenic goddess confronting the mores of 1940s America, something the original Nash and S.J. Perelman book mined to great effect, but which is largely ignored in the film. The best performance here by far is Eve Arden's, doing her patented love struck, smart alecky secretary routine to Conway's foppish boss. San Juan gets a couple of good moments in when she loses it with Walker, ultimately falling for Haymes. Haymes' singing voice is spectacular, which doesn't help mask the fact that he's one of the most wooden actors of this era.
The biggest complaint I have about One Touch of Venus is the insane decision to make it more or less a non-musical, keeping only the Broadway version's signature hit "Speak Low" (which is recast here to serve as a duet between Gardner--dubbed by Eileen Wilson--and Haymes, weirdly enough, and even rewritten to make its final cadence and lyric completely different from the original version) and an excerpt from the comedy number "That's Him." There are also two brief snippets of a rewritten version of the original's "Foolish Heart," now called "Don't Look Now, My Heart is Showing." It's just silly. This was one of Weill's biggest Broadway hits, and it was the only book musical for which Nash contributed lyrics, and to eviscerate the score like this is, to a musical theater lover like me anyway, blasphemy.
Why the Hollywood powers that be never capitalized on Mary Martin's photogenic abilities, strong performance skills, not to mention her singing, is one of the great mysteries of the Golden Age of film. One Touch of Venus could have been a frothy romantic romp with a young Martin in the lead, singing at the very least more of the great Weill-Nash score than is included here, and bringing a spunk and spryness to the role that Gardner, despite her exotic beauty, just can't quite muster. As it is, One Touch of Venus is as lifeless and cold as the statue that is at the center of its plot.
The DVD
Video:
There's some fairly bad damage early on in this full frame transfer, with jumpy credits and a missing frame or two. Scratches and debris continue for the first reel or so, and then taper off, leaving the rest of the film actually looking pretty good for its age. Contrast is good, sharpness is excellent and the black and white image is for the most part eminently watchable.
Sound:
The remastered DD 2.0 soundtrack also exhibits some distortion and damage early on, especially in the opening credits when the choral singing is badly broken up. Higher registers throughout the film tend to get a bit rough. Once you get past the credits, however, there's nothing too grating to deal with. There are English and Spanish subtitles available.
Extras:
The only putative extra is a set of Lionsgate trailers.
Final Thoughts:
Fans of Gardner may want to rent this for an early look at Ava. For everyone else, you can Skip It. ____________________________________________
"G-d made stars galore" & "Hey, what kind of a crappy fortune is this?" ZMK, modern prophet
scriptgirl
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Malaysia Star
Mystical and near-mythical as he was in Hombre, Newman was even better in another western - the grimy, gritty and (for its time, and considering its star) shocking The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean, in 1972.
This John Huston movie, with a screenplay by John Milius, saw Newman playing an outlaw who, after almost getting killed by some nasty types in a lawless frontier territory, set out for revenge. In a kind of reverse Hang ’em High, he realised that his deeds had made him the only symbol of law and order in the place.
Judge Roy Bean, which (if dim memory serves me right) seemed to perpetually alternate with Battle of the Bulge at the Ampang Park cinema in KL, was as far away from the clean-cut, handsome image of Newman as you could possibly get.
Newman as con-artist Henry Gondorff in the Academy Award-winning film The Sting.
The titular character, based on an actual Old West figure, spouted all kinds of witticisms and quirky philosophy in dispensing his brutal and swift enforcement of “justice”. This brutality allowed a town to spring up in the territory, with outlaws becoming its deputies, and prostitutes becoming the deputies’ wives.
Consider this tidbit of dialogue from when the aforementioned ladies took offence at being called “whores” by the judge: “I understand you have taken exception to my calling you whores. I’m sorry. I apologise. I ask you to note that I did not call you callous-*** strumpets, fornicatresses, or low-born gutter sluts. But I did say ‘whores’. No escaping that. And for that slip of the tongue, I apologise.”
Eventually, rich and colourful as his life was, the times did pass old Roy Bean by, and he never even got to meet the object of his infatuation, the entertainer Lily Langtry (Ava Gardner) €“ though she did eventually visit the town after his death, in a coda meant to cement the mythology of the judge’s life.
This, along with Hombre and another unusual western saga, Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History Lesson (1976, directed by Robert Altman) it can be said of Newman that he left the Wild West a very different place than it was when he arrived.
Mystical and near-mythical as he was in Hombre, Newman was even better in another western - the grimy, gritty and (for its time, and considering its star) shocking The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean, in 1972.
This John Huston movie, with a screenplay by John Milius, saw Newman playing an outlaw who, after almost getting killed by some nasty types in a lawless frontier territory, set out for revenge. In a kind of reverse Hang ’em High, he realised that his deeds had made him the only symbol of law and order in the place.
Judge Roy Bean, which (if dim memory serves me right) seemed to perpetually alternate with Battle of the Bulge at the Ampang Park cinema in KL, was as far away from the clean-cut, handsome image of Newman as you could possibly get.
The titular character, based on an actual Old West figure, spouted all kinds of witticisms and quirky philosophy in dispensing his brutal and swift enforcement of “justice”. This brutality allowed a town to spring up in the territory, with outlaws becoming its deputies, and prostitutes becoming the deputies’ wives.
Consider this tidbit of dialogue from when the aforementioned ladies took offence at being called “whores” by the judge: “I understand you have taken exception to my calling you whores. I’m sorry. I apologise. I ask you to note that I did not call you callous-*** strumpets, fornicatresses, or low-born gutter sluts. But I did say ‘whores’. No escaping that. And for that slip of the tongue, I apologise.”
Eventually, rich and colourful as his life was, the times did pass old Roy Bean by, and he never even got to meet the object of his infatuation, the entertainer Lily Langtry (Ava Gardner) €“ though she did eventually visit the town after his death, in a coda meant to cement the mythology of the judge’s life.
This, along with Hombre and another unusual western saga, Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History Lesson (1976, directed by Robert Altman) it can be said of Newman that he left the Wild West a very different place than it was when he arrived.
scriptgirl
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NY Post
Anthony Bourdain, the globe-trotting chef and host of the Travel Channel's No Reservations, has returned home to the Big Apple to take part in a panel with legendary Spanish chef Ferrán Adrià at the Food Network's New York City Wine & Food Festival (October 9–12). According to Anthony, 52, who lives on the Upper East Side, absence does make the heart grow fonder—with food, especially. "After weeks [away], I really miss a good pastrami sandwich," he says.
Where's the best place to people-watch in the city? On the high end, Da Silvano. On the low end, Carl Schurz Park. I used to be really
irritated by people with Bugaboos, but [since the birth of my daughter Ariane, 1 ½, with my wife, Ottavia] I've become one of those people!
Describe the fantasy party you'd like to attend. [Chef] Marco Pierre White and Keith Richards would be throwing something on the barbie in a backyard in Red Hook. Louise Brooks, the silent film actress, would be there, along with Ava Gardner, Orson Welles, [British spy] Kim Philby and the CIA director of counterintelligence.
Anthony Bourdain, the globe-trotting chef and host of the Travel Channel's No Reservations, has returned home to the Big Apple to take part in a panel with legendary Spanish chef Ferrán Adrià at the Food Network's New York City Wine & Food Festival (October 9–12). According to Anthony, 52, who lives on the Upper East Side, absence does make the heart grow fonder—with food, especially. "After weeks [away], I really miss a good pastrami sandwich," he says.
Where's the best place to people-watch in the city? On the high end, Da Silvano. On the low end, Carl Schurz Park. I used to be really
irritated by people with Bugaboos, but [since the birth of my daughter Ariane, 1 ½, with my wife, Ottavia] I've become one of those people!
Describe the fantasy party you'd like to attend. [Chef] Marco Pierre White and Keith Richards would be throwing something on the barbie in a backyard in Red Hook. Louise Brooks, the silent film actress, would be there, along with Ava Gardner, Orson Welles, [British spy] Kim Philby and the CIA director of counterintelligence.
scriptgirl
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Daily Record
THE CASSANDRA CROSSING *** CH4 1.05pm
Star-studded disaster tale about a wounded terrorist. He boards a transcontinental train carrying a deadly virus and threatens to unleash it on the innocent passengers.
Richard Harris and Burt Lancaster head the proceedings, with fine support from Martin Sheen, Sophia Loren, Ava Gardner and OJ Simpson.
THE CASSANDRA CROSSING *** CH4 1.05pm
Star-studded disaster tale about a wounded terrorist. He boards a transcontinental train carrying a deadly virus and threatens to unleash it on the innocent passengers.
Richard Harris and Burt Lancaster head the proceedings, with fine support from Martin Sheen, Sophia Loren, Ava Gardner and OJ Simpson.
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Gay City News
ABOUT TOWN: 1 Night, 1 Diva, 3 Roles
By: DAVID NOH
10/02/2008
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[FONT=arial,helvetica]Christie Brinkley was easily the most beautiful star at the September 22 opening gala for the Met's 125th season.
WILD1/ PR PHOTOS [/FONT]
Real glamour, so essential to, but, really, so rare in opera these days, held definite sway at the gala for the 125th Metropolitan Opera season on September 22. Renée Fleming, as she was promised by the former Joe Volpe regime, ruled as star of the evening, singing scenes from "La Traviata," "Manon," and "Capriccio" (respectively gowned by Christian Lacroix, Karl Lagerfeld, and John Galliano), the first time in Met history that such an honor was accorded to one woman.
Such privilege has definitely stirred envy among certain rival Met sopranos (one of whom recently remarked, "I want Renee's career!") as well as that inexhaustible anti-Fleming claque who never tire of deriding her, say, for the jazzy liberties she's sometimes taken with the repertoire.
Callas and Teresa Stratas may have been more dramatically intuitive actresses than Fleming but, for sheer musicality and lustrous sound, I'd like to know what other living soprano could have pulled off the feat of these highly different roles in three languages. She was rendingly poignant in the second act of "Traviata," which sits perfectly on her voice; deliciously seductive and then impassioned as "Manon"; and in "Capricccio," possessed a profoundly moving sense of burgeoning self-discovery, chic to die for in a blonde pageboy and Galliano Deco wrap and simple black sheath and gloves that echoed Rita Hayworth's "Gilda," which in turn was inspired by John Singer Sargent's portrait of "Madame X."
Lacroix's costumes were gorgeously lighter-than-air and in the grand, unashamedly balls-out 19th century tradition of gala diva-wear (of course, Violetta would wear chiffon and a diamond parure in the country), but Lagerfeld rather phoned in an almost drably simple dix-huitieme number that faded right into the grayish color scheme of the set.
The Times' Anthony Tommasini proudly -- and stupidly, I think -- announced his ignorance of fashion (i.e., costuming) in his review, totally missing the crucial point that Manon here should be the absolute Queen of Parisian fashion, but in this venerable Jean-Pierre Ponnelle production, with its anachronistic mix of Rococo and Empire styles, Lagerfeld gave her the oldest-looking dress on the stage.Â
There were gowns galore in the audience, as well -- everywhere you looked, on a plethora of stars. It was the kind of night where, if you blinked, you missed Faye Dunaway or Jane Fonda (who left after the first act). Rufus Wainwright, John Lithgow, Helen Mirren, Julianna Margulies, Blythe Danner, Christina Baranski, Vera Wang, Barbara Walters, and supermodels Liv Tyler and Helena Christensen (in a typically everything-but-the kitchen-sink gown by escort Zac Posen) were there, but the most beautiful woman present had to be Christie Brinkley, looking every inch the triumphant messy-divorce survivor, in a strapless, skintight Jacques Fath-esque sheath, accompanied by her adorable little son.
Intermission was spent among Fleming's entourage, which included her best friend from college, Sue Shardt, who told me the diva had spent the day dressing her up for the night, in a borrowed Vivienne Westwood gown and Han Feng shawl. When I asked if, as music students at SUNY Potsdam, she could have envisioned her pal's future, said, "Maybe not on this scale, but Renée was always singing beautifully, even by herself, in the middle of a field."
Fleming's personal stylist, the legendary Freddie Leiba told me, "I got involved with her about six years ago. Before that, I don't think she had much interest in fashion. She liked those architectural things by Miyake, but with her now, I'm inspired by Maria Callas, who was the best-dressed opera star of her time. For tonight, the designers sent us their sketches six months ago for approval and there were certain tweakings."
Leiba, part Chinese-Trinidadian, moved to London at a young age and then New York, where he fell in with the Warhol crowd and worked for Interview magazine with artists like Richard Bernstein and Ara Gallant.
"All of them dead. I'm the one that's left," he observed and, when I asked him his opinion of those other, over-blown celebrity stylists -- some with reality TV shows of their own -- now thriving in the very career which he originated, he sniffed, "It's all self-promotion, with them putting themselves forward as much as the client. I don't approve. I'm now working on a new fashion magazine with the New York Observer, which will feature Renée."Â
Upstairs, on the Grand Tier, Martha Stewart was mixing up a special Fleming cocktail for mezzo Susan Graham, doing diva handmaiden-HD TV hostess duty for the live telecast and, as we left the theater, we were treated to samples of "La Voce," Fleming's new perfume, also debuting that night. Quel freakin' nuit!
Composer John Kander, an absolute opera-lover himself, told me that "Capriccio" was one of his favorites, for its theme of which is most vital, the music or the words? He fondly recalled glorious productions with Simon Keenlyside and the late Jerry Hadley, and observed, "What incredible pressure this must be for Renee."
I asked Kander about the last of the four musicals in his trunk written with the late lyricist Fred Ebb and the possibility of it, like the other three, getting a post-Ebb production. "That's 'Minstrel Show," he said, "and we're working on a workshop of it. As for Chita Rivera in 'The Visit' coming to New York after our very successful DC run, well, do you have $2 million?"Â
Funnily enough, I was asked that same question later that night by York Theatre's James Morgan, when I inquired as to the possibility of his enchanting revival of the 1976 musical "Enter Laughing" transferring to Broadway. Run, don't walk to this show, which just got extended, as Josh Grisetti, 26, gives one of the greatest comic performances I have ever seen as an aspiring Bronx actor (read writer Carl Reiner), and, as pure icing, the great George Irving, 85, reprises his original role with magisterial comic delivery, especially on the ribald classic, "Butler's Song."
I asked Irving how many times he's sung this and he said, "I've lost count. They have me doing it at weddings, bar mitzvahs, funerals, you name it!"
The entire production is cast and directed to loony perfection, and the cloud of musical comedy bliss I was on got extended when I caught Paper Mills' "Oklahoma" on Sept. 21. Call me xenophobic, but there are certain shows that need to be directed by an American (especially after the hapless recent Brit-helmed productions of "Fiddler on the Roof," "Company," and "Catered Affair"), and James Brennan (responsible for last season's winning "Kiss Me Kate") instilled it with a youthful verve and randiness that made this warhorse look like a fresh filly again.
Brynn O'Malley was the best Laurey I've ever seen, a real feisty country miss, with belt and lyric high notes, far from the buttery blandness of Shirley Jones in the 1955 film or the 2002 revival's Josefina Gabrielle, that triple threat who couldn't sing, dance, or act. Adam Monley (Curly) and Andrew Varela (a very sexy, sympathetic Jud) made juicy romantic rivals, while Brian Sears brought true Tennessee charm to Will Parker and Megan Sikora was a hilariously horny Ado Annie.
While not quite as ecstasy-inducing as these shows, "The Marvelous Wonderettes" may likely outrun both of them for, in its way, this '50s-60s jukebox musical is as easily crowd-pleasing as "Mama Mia." The storyline about a high school girl group and their reunion may be inane, but there's no gainsaying the considerable vocal talent onstage.
Farah Alvin did a bang-up "Mr. Lee," Bets Malone dropped her airhead comic voice to growl out a very respectable "Respect," and Beth Malone had major pipes as well as a Cheri Oteri-like comic rambunctiousness on "It's My Party." As long as there are any four young actresses in New York who can really sing this profusion of beloved pop standards, this show may enjoy as long a stay as that mediocrity which preceded it at the Westside Theatre, "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change" (12 years!).
Max Ophuls' "Lola Montez" (1955), which is at The New York Film Festival and subsequently being revived at Film Forum (Oct. 10-30) in a spectacularly restored 35mm print, has been hailed by some as the greatest film of all time. Re-seeing it after many years, this critic begs to differ -- it's not a patch on real Ophuls masterworks like "The Earrings of Madame De," "Letter from an Unknown Woman," or "Caught."
Although visually stunning, the script is airlessly clever, cursory, and completely lacking in emotional depth -- but the real problem is its star. Martine Carol, the pudding-faced French sexpot Ophuls was forced to work with, totally lacks the charisma or sensitivity that an actress like Vivien Leigh, playing another historical seductress, Emma Hamilton, in "That Hamilton Woman," had in such spades that, in a matter of seconds, anyone succumbed.
Even Carol's costumes, which, in any other Ophuls film, would have been sublime, as done by Marcel Escoffier (also responsible for some of the monstrosities Joan Sutherland wore in opera) instead of Ophuls' usual, brilliant collaborator, Georges Annenkov, are pedestrian when not downright vulgar. Ergo, the film is like a beautiful setting with a paste gem at its center, to be seen for the extraordinary circus framing device -- which must have influenced Bob Fosse's "Cabaret" -- but definitely something to be puzzled over afterwards in the crisp autumn air.
Equally visually amazing, Albert Lewin's "Pandora and the Flying Dutchman" (1951) is also being shown in a restored print at the Film Festival (October 10, introduced by Martin Scorsese). I remember when they revived it in Paris all summer long, years ago, and I begged my friend, the late fashion designer Patrick Kelly, to go with me. "No, child," he said. "Once was more than enough. Let's catch the restored 'New York, New York,' instead."
I now know what he meant, but you should definitely treat yourself to this utterly mad, Technicolor hot fudge sundae, a reworking of the famous legend, starring James Mason at his most sexily brooding and, as she was known at the time, "the most beautiful animal in the world," Ava Gardner, so luscious here to make you feel drugged just looking at her.
Contact David Noh at [email protected].
©GayCityNews 2008
ABOUT TOWN: 1 Night, 1 Diva, 3 Roles
By: DAVID NOH
10/02/2008
Email to a friendPost a CommentPrinter-friendly
WILD1/ PR PHOTOS [/FONT]
Real glamour, so essential to, but, really, so rare in opera these days, held definite sway at the gala for the 125th Metropolitan Opera season on September 22. Renée Fleming, as she was promised by the former Joe Volpe regime, ruled as star of the evening, singing scenes from "La Traviata," "Manon," and "Capriccio" (respectively gowned by Christian Lacroix, Karl Lagerfeld, and John Galliano), the first time in Met history that such an honor was accorded to one woman.
Such privilege has definitely stirred envy among certain rival Met sopranos (one of whom recently remarked, "I want Renee's career!") as well as that inexhaustible anti-Fleming claque who never tire of deriding her, say, for the jazzy liberties she's sometimes taken with the repertoire.
Callas and Teresa Stratas may have been more dramatically intuitive actresses than Fleming but, for sheer musicality and lustrous sound, I'd like to know what other living soprano could have pulled off the feat of these highly different roles in three languages. She was rendingly poignant in the second act of "Traviata," which sits perfectly on her voice; deliciously seductive and then impassioned as "Manon"; and in "Capricccio," possessed a profoundly moving sense of burgeoning self-discovery, chic to die for in a blonde pageboy and Galliano Deco wrap and simple black sheath and gloves that echoed Rita Hayworth's "Gilda," which in turn was inspired by John Singer Sargent's portrait of "Madame X."
Lacroix's costumes were gorgeously lighter-than-air and in the grand, unashamedly balls-out 19th century tradition of gala diva-wear (of course, Violetta would wear chiffon and a diamond parure in the country), but Lagerfeld rather phoned in an almost drably simple dix-huitieme number that faded right into the grayish color scheme of the set.
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There were gowns galore in the audience, as well -- everywhere you looked, on a plethora of stars. It was the kind of night where, if you blinked, you missed Faye Dunaway or Jane Fonda (who left after the first act). Rufus Wainwright, John Lithgow, Helen Mirren, Julianna Margulies, Blythe Danner, Christina Baranski, Vera Wang, Barbara Walters, and supermodels Liv Tyler and Helena Christensen (in a typically everything-but-the kitchen-sink gown by escort Zac Posen) were there, but the most beautiful woman present had to be Christie Brinkley, looking every inch the triumphant messy-divorce survivor, in a strapless, skintight Jacques Fath-esque sheath, accompanied by her adorable little son.
Intermission was spent among Fleming's entourage, which included her best friend from college, Sue Shardt, who told me the diva had spent the day dressing her up for the night, in a borrowed Vivienne Westwood gown and Han Feng shawl. When I asked if, as music students at SUNY Potsdam, she could have envisioned her pal's future, said, "Maybe not on this scale, but Renée was always singing beautifully, even by herself, in the middle of a field."
Fleming's personal stylist, the legendary Freddie Leiba told me, "I got involved with her about six years ago. Before that, I don't think she had much interest in fashion. She liked those architectural things by Miyake, but with her now, I'm inspired by Maria Callas, who was the best-dressed opera star of her time. For tonight, the designers sent us their sketches six months ago for approval and there were certain tweakings."
Leiba, part Chinese-Trinidadian, moved to London at a young age and then New York, where he fell in with the Warhol crowd and worked for Interview magazine with artists like Richard Bernstein and Ara Gallant.
"All of them dead. I'm the one that's left," he observed and, when I asked him his opinion of those other, over-blown celebrity stylists -- some with reality TV shows of their own -- now thriving in the very career which he originated, he sniffed, "It's all self-promotion, with them putting themselves forward as much as the client. I don't approve. I'm now working on a new fashion magazine with the New York Observer, which will feature Renée."Â
Upstairs, on the Grand Tier, Martha Stewart was mixing up a special Fleming cocktail for mezzo Susan Graham, doing diva handmaiden-HD TV hostess duty for the live telecast and, as we left the theater, we were treated to samples of "La Voce," Fleming's new perfume, also debuting that night. Quel freakin' nuit!
Composer John Kander, an absolute opera-lover himself, told me that "Capriccio" was one of his favorites, for its theme of which is most vital, the music or the words? He fondly recalled glorious productions with Simon Keenlyside and the late Jerry Hadley, and observed, "What incredible pressure this must be for Renee."
I asked Kander about the last of the four musicals in his trunk written with the late lyricist Fred Ebb and the possibility of it, like the other three, getting a post-Ebb production. "That's 'Minstrel Show," he said, "and we're working on a workshop of it. As for Chita Rivera in 'The Visit' coming to New York after our very successful DC run, well, do you have $2 million?"Â
Funnily enough, I was asked that same question later that night by York Theatre's James Morgan, when I inquired as to the possibility of his enchanting revival of the 1976 musical "Enter Laughing" transferring to Broadway. Run, don't walk to this show, which just got extended, as Josh Grisetti, 26, gives one of the greatest comic performances I have ever seen as an aspiring Bronx actor (read writer Carl Reiner), and, as pure icing, the great George Irving, 85, reprises his original role with magisterial comic delivery, especially on the ribald classic, "Butler's Song."
I asked Irving how many times he's sung this and he said, "I've lost count. They have me doing it at weddings, bar mitzvahs, funerals, you name it!"
The entire production is cast and directed to loony perfection, and the cloud of musical comedy bliss I was on got extended when I caught Paper Mills' "Oklahoma" on Sept. 21. Call me xenophobic, but there are certain shows that need to be directed by an American (especially after the hapless recent Brit-helmed productions of "Fiddler on the Roof," "Company," and "Catered Affair"), and James Brennan (responsible for last season's winning "Kiss Me Kate") instilled it with a youthful verve and randiness that made this warhorse look like a fresh filly again.
Brynn O'Malley was the best Laurey I've ever seen, a real feisty country miss, with belt and lyric high notes, far from the buttery blandness of Shirley Jones in the 1955 film or the 2002 revival's Josefina Gabrielle, that triple threat who couldn't sing, dance, or act. Adam Monley (Curly) and Andrew Varela (a very sexy, sympathetic Jud) made juicy romantic rivals, while Brian Sears brought true Tennessee charm to Will Parker and Megan Sikora was a hilariously horny Ado Annie.
While not quite as ecstasy-inducing as these shows, "The Marvelous Wonderettes" may likely outrun both of them for, in its way, this '50s-60s jukebox musical is as easily crowd-pleasing as "Mama Mia." The storyline about a high school girl group and their reunion may be inane, but there's no gainsaying the considerable vocal talent onstage.
Farah Alvin did a bang-up "Mr. Lee," Bets Malone dropped her airhead comic voice to growl out a very respectable "Respect," and Beth Malone had major pipes as well as a Cheri Oteri-like comic rambunctiousness on "It's My Party." As long as there are any four young actresses in New York who can really sing this profusion of beloved pop standards, this show may enjoy as long a stay as that mediocrity which preceded it at the Westside Theatre, "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change" (12 years!).
Max Ophuls' "Lola Montez" (1955), which is at The New York Film Festival and subsequently being revived at Film Forum (Oct. 10-30) in a spectacularly restored 35mm print, has been hailed by some as the greatest film of all time. Re-seeing it after many years, this critic begs to differ -- it's not a patch on real Ophuls masterworks like "The Earrings of Madame De," "Letter from an Unknown Woman," or "Caught."
Although visually stunning, the script is airlessly clever, cursory, and completely lacking in emotional depth -- but the real problem is its star. Martine Carol, the pudding-faced French sexpot Ophuls was forced to work with, totally lacks the charisma or sensitivity that an actress like Vivien Leigh, playing another historical seductress, Emma Hamilton, in "That Hamilton Woman," had in such spades that, in a matter of seconds, anyone succumbed.
Even Carol's costumes, which, in any other Ophuls film, would have been sublime, as done by Marcel Escoffier (also responsible for some of the monstrosities Joan Sutherland wore in opera) instead of Ophuls' usual, brilliant collaborator, Georges Annenkov, are pedestrian when not downright vulgar. Ergo, the film is like a beautiful setting with a paste gem at its center, to be seen for the extraordinary circus framing device -- which must have influenced Bob Fosse's "Cabaret" -- but definitely something to be puzzled over afterwards in the crisp autumn air.
Equally visually amazing, Albert Lewin's "Pandora and the Flying Dutchman" (1951) is also being shown in a restored print at the Film Festival (October 10, introduced by Martin Scorsese). I remember when they revived it in Paris all summer long, years ago, and I begged my friend, the late fashion designer Patrick Kelly, to go with me. "No, child," he said. "Once was more than enough. Let's catch the restored 'New York, New York,' instead."
I now know what he meant, but you should definitely treat yourself to this utterly mad, Technicolor hot fudge sundae, a reworking of the famous legend, starring James Mason at his most sexily brooding and, as she was known at the time, "the most beautiful animal in the world," Ava Gardner, so luscious here to make you feel drugged just looking at her.
Contact David Noh at [email protected].
©GayCityNews 2008
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