Awed by J. Edgar

I was unfortunately one of only six people in the theater the other day when I went to see J. Edgar, starring Leonardo DiCaprio as J. Edgar Hoover, Armie Hammer, Naomi Watts, and Judi Dench, all of whom gave extraordinary performances. Clint Eastwood's direction was clearly the glue that held this complicated film together. All of the artistic elements: sets, costumes, make-up and hair, etc. were all also topnotch. Cinematography, which employed a sort of sepia-toned look for the flashbacks and standard color for the rest of the action, was truly outstanding.

The story was fascinating, and even though many of its controversial elements would have been handled as sensationalism by a less talented director than Eastwood, his storytelling never wandered into anything resembling tabloid methods.

As presented in the film, J. Edgar Hoover's absolute rein over the FBI for nearly 50 years was a strange mix of success in fighting the most pervasive kinds of crime, and building the agency to the law-enforcement force it is today, but frightening and smacking of the worst kind of tyranny to many; he made many enemies through his long career. His methods made crime-fighting scientific, but he often stepped over the line into invasion of privacy and the trampling of individual rights.

Eastwood has managed to portray Hoover as a troubled, complex man with many insecurities, neuroses, and conflicted emotions. DiCaprio's portrayal shows an enormous range of emotions and moods. He seems to bring flashes of the inner man to the forefront, while making it clear that many areas of Hoover's persona were extremely repressed. Coming away from the film, I have a sense of this complex person, and feel something for him that I never expected to experience in his case: sympathy.

Truly a great film, worthy of many awards.

West Side Story Returns

For one night only, the 1961 movie version of the famed Broadway show West Side Story made a glorious appearance on theater screens. The film, a winner of 10 Academy Awards, was digitally remastered and a new high definition version is being released next week. To celebrate the film's 50-year anniversary, Turner Classic Movies (TCM) sponsored the showing, which I was lucky enough to attend.

Having only ever watched the movie on DVD and TV, seeing it on a big screen in the darkened, nearly full theater auditorium was truly thrilling. As the musical's dramatic overture played over the opening titles, the excitement built. Sweeping views over New York City narrowed closer and closer over Wall Street, Midtown, the Empire State Building and especially the greenery of middle-class apartment complexes and the expanses of Central Park, and then we were in a litter-strewn playground amid the treeless mean streets of claustrophobic tenement blocks.

The Jets, the reigning gang of working class whites, danced their menacing, tough-guy opening number in their sloppy jeans and grubby, colorless tee shirts and jackets. Bernardo, the leader of the Puerto Rican Sharks, the Jets' competition for their turf, with his headful of gleaming black hair, appeared in a brilliant red shirt and slim-fitting black pants, the very epitome of Latin flair. The stage was set.

This area of the West Side was being razed during the filming and soon was rebuilt as Lincoln Center, with its glittering theaters surrounded by breezy, landscaped open plazas. But in the movie, there are still the boarded-up windows, masonry debris, and once peculiar to New York, enclosures around the construction sites made from old tenement doors. Very few open stores remain and not so many cars drive by. It truly looks like a war zone, which it is.

Riff, the Jets' leader, and Bernardo make a pact to have a deciding "rumble" after the Saturday night dance. But at the dance, Maria, Bernardo's beautiful sixteen-year-old sister meets Tony, a handsome former Jet who has decided to get a job and make a better life. They fall immediately and passionately in love.

Despite Maria and Tony's efforts to stop the rumble, it takes place, violently, tragically. Lives are lost. There is no happy end, just a faint hope for compassion and perhaps, mutual acceptance.

To the very last scene where the remaining characters file off Shakespearean style (obviously the plot closely follows Romeo and Juliet), the movie is truly a masterpiece of acting, dancing and singing. The music by Leonard Bernstein with lyrics by Stephen Sondheim is sweeping, challenging, yet hummable and singable--after all, who doesn't know at least the tune to "Maria" or "Somewhere"?

The performances were remarkable--Natalie Wood was a soulful, virginally beautiful Maria, Rita Moreno was a sultry Anita (Bernardo's girlfriend) and George Chakiris made a sinuous Bernardo with burning Latin eyes. Tony was played with a mix of hopefulness and eager charm by Richard Beymer.

Prior to the beginning of the film, TCM presented a discussion led by Robert Osborne, the film historian and much-loved host of so many great old movies shown on that network. Other participants were Chakiris, Walter Mirisch, the film's producer, and Marni Nixon, whose voice was used for Maria's musical numbers. Osborne interviewed them about the back story of the film's production, direction, and choreography, along with some dirt about Natalie's Wood's unhappy reaction to being dubbed. It was fascinating to see rehearsal footage, shots of the directors working and even some of Wood's singing (she made a valiant effort, but the directors made the right choice to overdub). Altogether, it was a terrific introduction to the film and added so much to my enjoyment of it.

I will undoubtedly be purchasing a new DVD shortly.

Maggie Smith in My House in Umbria

Spent some time yesterday watching My House in Umbria (2003) starring Maggie Smith, Giancarlo Giannini and Chris Cooper. While I have some pretty strong reservations about the film overall, there is no denying the greatness of Maggie Smith, who is now 76. Her expressive, dignified face, distinctive voice and elegant body language impart the deeply felt emotions she conveys with great subtlety, yet without a descent into melodrama or histrionics.

Smith is perfectly cast as Emily Delahunty, an English romance novelist of a certain age and uncertain background, who resides in a dreamy mountaintop villa in Umbria, Italy. Emily has lived what she says are many lives: an English life, an American life, a Moroccan life and an Italian life. She writes her books, which feature happy endings, under several nom de plumes. Her somewhat mysterious past and way of maintaining extraordinary poise and posture in her theatrical flowing outfits, make her a romantic but indelible character.

By chance, Emily's life is upended when she is injured in a train car explosion. Her fellow survivors include a retired British army officer, a young German man, and a little American girl who has become orphaned. All are hospitalized for their injuries. A detective (Giannini) is investigating the event, a bombing.

Emily takes in the other survivors and they become a sort of family at the villa, healing in the beautiful surroundings and through the kindness of Emily's small household staff. Aimee, the little girl, has been so traumatized by the explosion and loss of her parents that she does not speak, but in time begins to recover.

Eventually, the authorities locate Tom Riversmith (Cooper), Aimee's uncle, who was estranged from his sister, Aimee's mother. He comes to Italy to meet Aimee and bring her back with him to the States. Emily tries to connect with him numerous times but they are clearly cut from different cloth. A dry, unyielding scientist and college professor, he finds her romantic persona eccentric, offensive and even laughable.

The time comes for Aimee and Tom to depart. Emily is bereft at the loss of this child whom she has comes to love and nurture. She is despondent. At the very last moment, Tom leaves alone at the airport and Aimee returns to Emily. She gets her happy ending after all.

Maggie Smith is magnificent as Emily. Giancarlo Giannini is excellent, though his part is much smaller than I, a fan, would like. Chris Cooper does a good job with an unlikeable role. Art direction, locations, cinematography and costuming are all wonderful. The problem with this movie is in the screenplay. There are a number of flashback scenes, shot in black and white, that are used to tell us some of Emily's personal history. They are disruptive and heavy-handed. It seems as though the producer decided that more is better than less, or perhaps that we the audience could not have understood a less visual backstory. Too bad.

Despite all of that, seeing Maggie Smith act is always a memorable experience. She remains a marvel. Brava, Maggie!







  

Farewell to Susan Fromberg Schaeffer, and Remembering Others

The New York Times posted an obituary for the author Susan Fromberg Schaeffer, who died last week at age 71. Ms. Schaeffer was one of my favorite writers, and was the author of Anya, The Madness of a Seduced Woman, Time in Its Flight and Love. Reading the obituary, I came upon a book of hers that I had somehow missed, Buffalo Afternoon. I will be adding it to my very long list of must-reads.

I maintain my own personal pantheon of dearly departed writers, including Laurie Colwin, Alice Adams, Rona Jaffe and the playwright Wendy Wasserstein. Their voices are now silent, their keyboards still, but their words live on. It is sad though, to remember how much you enjoyed the writing of a particular author and waited anxiously for their next book (or play) to appear. Finding out that there would be no more is a little like losing a friend and realizing there will be no more visits, and no more long phone calls that cover personal news that ranges from the seriously important to the trivial. There is an empty place. But unlike the unfillable hole that results from the death of a friend, it is always possible to reread those authors' books and enjoy them once again. Thank goodness for that--there is some comfort there.

Sarah's Key--the film

I recently saw the film version of Sarah's Key, adapted from the novel by Tatiana de Rosnay. Historically, it was very enlightening. I knew, in a sketchy way, that the Jews of Paris had been rounded up by French authorities during World War II, and in fact I had once visited the Marais quarter where the community was centered before its destruction. In 1990, when I was there, there was already very little left of anything that would label it as having been a Jewish area, except for some faded Hebrew lettering on a shop window or two, and the famous Goldenberg's deli, which is now closed. The movie indicates that the Marais' transformation from poor immigrant neighborhood to wealthy, hip enclave is now complete and its slate of suffering and betrayal has been wiped clean. There appears to be no trace left of what happened there in July, 1942. 

I began reading the book some time ago, but after about 2 or 3 chapters, I put it aside and never went back to it. Perhaps I had already read too many novels about the Holocaust and needed a break. Perhaps it was the book itself. I'm not really sure.

The movie and the book twine together two stories, one Sarah's, and the other, Julia's: 

Sarah is a 10-year old child living with her parents and 4-year old brother in a flat in the Marais when the authorities come to arrest them. To save her brother, she hides and then locks him in a closet, promising him that she will come back to let him out when it is safe. Her efforts to keep this promise and its unfulfilled sad aftermath are very compelling. 

Julia is an American-born journalist who has lived most of her life in Paris, is married to a Frenchman, and has a young daughter. Julia and her husband are planning to move into his parents' apartment, their home for the 60 years since World War II, and which is now being renovated. Julia's magazine has given her the assignment of looking into the history of the infamous roundup which locked thousands into the Paris Velodrome (indoor bicycle track) in the summer heat without sanitary facilities or even water. The detainees were on their way to the Drancy transit camp, and ultimately to Auschwitz. Julia's discovery that her husband's family's apartment is the one where Sarah's family lived is a secret that has been kept from most of the family for all those decades. It is essentially a metaphor for the shameful hidden behavior of France and many of its citizens during the war, something that is still little known or explored, unlike the massive re-examination of Germany and Germans; or, through The Diary of Anne Frank and its accompanying literature and scholarship, the Dutch.

Julia investigates records and interviews people in France, Brooklyn, Manhattan and Florence, trying to find out what became of Sarah. She is the necessary device required to tell Sarah's story. However, the film's concentration on Julia's personal story, her marital problems and unexpected pregnancy, seem extraneous and somewhat distracting. In my opinion, the film would have been much more effective without those details.

Kristin Scott Thomas gives a fine performance as Julia, however, and the young French actress, Mélusine Mayance,  who plays Sarah in her childhood years, conveys her intelligence, terror and suffering with a unique combination of innocence and maturity. Charlotte Poutrel, who plays the adult Sarah, seems to do very little except look beautiful and sad.

On the whole, Sarah's Key is moving, but the shifts between Sarah's wrenching story and Julia's clichéd one are jarring and break up the momentum of the film and dilute its emotional impact, ultimately making it emotionally unsatisfying. This is a movie worth seeing, at least for its exploration of France during World War II, but is certainly not of the caliber of other Holocaust-centered films, such as Life is Beautiful, Sophie's Choice, Enemies, a Love Story, or also concerning France, Au Revoir, Mes Enfants.  

Listening to The Help

For the past week or so, I've been listening to The Help, by Kathryn Stockett. I resisted reading the novel, a bestseller, for quite a while, thinking it might be clichéd, rather than original. I kept thinking of films such as Imitation of Life and Pinky, which explore charged relationships between the races, as does The Help. But, on the recommendation of every member of my book club, and because it was the only remotely interesting audio book available in the library, I decided to give it a try. After just a few minutes with Disk 1, I was hooked.

The plot follows 3 main characters. Skeeter is a young white woman, newly graduated from college and frustrated with the limitations and social conventions of the genteel life in Jackson, Mississippi in 1963. She is something of a misfit—as the only remaining single woman amongst her friends, with unconventional looks and a height above most of the available men in town, and she wants to be a writer. 

Aibileen and Minny are African-American maids working in white households, where they raise the children, do all the cooking and housework, and live in constant fear of being fired for even the most trivial of mistakes. Living in the pre-Civil Rights Act South, they and the rest of the African-American community face both overt and covert prejudice, which may be expressed in a myriad of ways, from verbal humiliation to physical violence, to even death in some situations.

Skeeter is stymied by her lack of options, the banality of bridge games and luncheons with her friends Hilly and Elizabeth, and is also disturbed by the way her friends treat and talk about their maids. One day she asks Aibileen if she thinks her life could be different, a tentative step into the forbidden territory of dialogue between blacks and whites; a question not well received. 

Skeeter takes the only writing job she can find in Jackson, as the household hints columnist for the local newspaper. Since she knows nothing about running a household, she turns to Aibileen for advice. Skeeter conceives the idea of writing a book about the conditions black women endure working as domestics in Jackson and enlists Aibileen's help in this area too. Aibileen is reluctant and wary, but eventually tells Skeeter her story. She also convinces her hotheaded friend Minny to participate. 

As I delve deeper and deeper into The Help, I find that I am completely caught up in the plot, which is quite complex, weaving together the relationships among the principal and supporting characters, mainly women. I wonder if I would feel the same passively reading the book, or if it is the complex and nuanced performances of the actors who bring the characters to life?

I have advanced about two-thirds of the way through the disks and the plot remains compelling. I plan to complete listening to the book early this week and take in the newly released movie by next weekend. I wonder how I will feel about that adaptation? It will be interesting!

Aspiring Young Women Writers

Revisiting the 1979 film My Brilliant Career, based on the 1901 book by Australian writer Miles Franklin, about the author's path to publishing her first novel, got me to thinking about other aspiring young women writers of the 19th and early 20th century. I have fond memories and a strong identification with some of those authors, the characters that populate their novels and stories, and appear, perhaps, in subsequent film adaptations.

The first author that comes to mind in this category is Louisa May Alcott, author of Little Women and other classics. Just in case you have forgotten (or somehow never read it), the leading character in Little Women is Jo March (based on Alcott herself), and the setting is Massachusetts, during the period of the Civil War. The feisty Jo longs to publish a novel, reads everything she can get her hands on, and behaves somewhat unconventionally for a young woman of her time. How many girls and young women have aspired to a literary life because of Alcott's Jo, even though she ultimately chooses a happy family life over a writing career? I kept rooting for Jo to also get that book written and published, even though she married the delightful Professor Bhaer, had a family and ran a school. But that was the nineteenth century, after all, and we have seen some changes since then!