Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Passing Strange on DVD

In the very last session of my musical-theater history course, we do three things: my students hand in their take-home finals, we talk about what makes bad musicals bad, and then we launch into what I've come to call our "showtune games." In one of these games, I put my 30G iPod on shuffle, play ten random songs (out of about 8,000, all theater music, natch), and challenge my students to name the song and show. 

This past semester, one of the songs that came up on the old iPod was "What's Inside Is Just a Lie" from Passing Strange. Now, I realize that the show didn't run very long, but not a single one of my students was able to name the show. Some guessed the song title, as it's repeated so frequently, but even when we went over the answers, and I told them the name of the show, a lot of my students had never even heard of Passing Strange.

I'm not trying to dump on my students here. When the show was running, most of them were juniors in high school, many nowhere near New York City. I see this more as a testament to the fleeting nature of the theatrical consciousness. Passing Strange, while stunning and innovative, is yesterday's news. The show ran a mere 165 performances and 20 previews at the venerable Belasco Theater. And it is highly unlikely that the show will catch on in regional or community theater, mostly because the story is so specific to Stew, the show's writer and central performer. 

Fortunately, before the show closed, filmmaker Spike Lee brought in more than a dozen cameras and taped three of the show's final performances. The resulting film played the Sundance Film Festival, and has now been released on DVD. And it's a real stunner.

When I saw Passing Strange on Broadway, I was so impressed with the freshness and raw energy of the show (read my original review) that I decided to take in the show again (read my re-review). Well, I'm not really sure how or why, but in some respects the movie is even more compelling than the stage play was. This is probably a testament to Lee's dynamic, almost invasive, camera angles. As in the best documentaries and concert films, Lee has taken us where the theater cannot: backstage, up close, behind, beside, below the performers. Lee has even placed cameras in the four hydraulic pits that house the on-stage band, making the players an even more integral part of the action.

Such an approach would likely not work with most theatrical presentations, but with the already anarchic Passing Strange, it significantly enhances and complements the themes, techniques, and movement employed by stage director Annie Dorsen and choreographer Karole Armitage. The cinematographic intimacy also puts into stunning relief the terrific work by the show's talented cast, including the dynamic Rebecca Naomi Jones, the sensational Daniel Breaker, and the electrifying Colman Domingo.

We're unlikely to see the likes of Passing Strange back on Broadway anytime soon. Oh sure, we'll see more rock shows, and we may even see more staged concerts, but none with the singularity of vision and execution that Passing Strange reflects. And we're fortunate to have this permanent record of a show that can genuinely be called unique.

A final note to my students: Yeah, you're not in my course anymore, but I'm giving you one final piece of homework. See this film.

Review: The Film Version of Nine

Che delusione. Come molto deprimente. Che disastro.

I saw the movie "Nine" on Monday, and all this week I've had the hardest time bringing myself to write up this review. It was just such a depressing experience.

I've always been an ardent admirer of the musical Nine, with its wise and witty book by Arthur Kopit and sensational score by Maury Yeston. Nine was one of the first shows I ever saw on Broadway, and I was captivated by Tommy Tune's simple yet effective staging. But I also enjoyed the show in revival form, particularly director David Leveaux's fresh visual take and Antonio Banderas's dynamic turn as Guido. And the movie version seemed to have so much going for it, particularly the stellar female cast: Marion Cotillard, Nicole Kidman, Judi Dench, Kate Hudson, Sophia Loren, Penélope Cruz, oh, and somebody named "Fergie."

So what went wrong? Two things: the script and Rob Marshall.

I'm no purist when it comes to movie musicals. Two of the best films of Broadway shows are "Cabaret" and "Sweeney Todd," and neither of those movies is particularly faithful to its source. The "Cabaret" movie is almost completely rewritten. But it works. And "Sweeney Todd" removed a large portion of Stephen Sondheim's score, albeit with his blessing. But the cuts, for the most part, were effective.

So, I'm not dumping on "Nine" for all the rewrites or the excised numbers. The problem is that the screenplay, by Michael Tolkin and Anthony Minghella, is just plain awful, filled with dialog that is at best banal, at worst laughable. Minghella passed away in 2008, so I'm going to have to assume that Tolkin is to blame for the trite phrasing and mindless bromides. After all, Minghella had a far more august resume ("The English Patient," "The Talented Mr. Ripley") than Tolkin does ("Deep Impact," "The Rapture"). But who knows, right? All I know is that virtually nothing remains of Arthur Kopit's original libretto, and what has taken its place is often ridiculous. At one point, poor Penélope Cruz is actually forced to say to Guido, "I'll be waiting for you, with my legs open." Ugh.

But I could have withstood the indignities of the screenplay if the musical numbers weren't so poorly integrated into the film. The songs all take place in some conceptual nowhere land, sometimes interspersed with the scenes at hand, sometimes not. So the music doesn't emerge from the mouths of the characters themselves, but rather from some imaginary versions of same. That's not in itself a problem, but director Rob Marshall hasn't given us a clear idea as to why he's made this choice.

By comparison, in the "Cabaret" movie, the songs take place in a Berlin nightclub. In the "Chicago" movie, the songs for the most part are meant to be Vaudeville numbers. Those conceits create a connection between the songs and the action. But how and where are they taking place in "Nine"? As individual internal monologues? In Guido's head? That doesn't really make dramatic sense: Guido isn't a musical-theater aficionado, he's a film director. He wouldn't think in terms of musical numbers, but rather cinematic sequences. As a result, the songs don't add to the movie, they stop it dead.

For me, "Chicago" didn't really work as a movie, but it did leave open the possibility that Marshall might develop an independent voice. "Nine" calls that possibility into serious question. So far, Marshall appears to be little more than a poor man's Bob Fosse, without the vision or the bite. As I watched "Nine," I kept thinking about the stylistic debt that the movie owed to "All That Jazz," an infinitely superior film, and it made me wonder what Fosse could have done with "Nine." Perhaps all the people who knew how to create effective movie musicals are dead, but is Rob Marshall really the best we can do?

I had thought that I would have a problem with Daniel Day-Lewis as Guido, but, although I would have preferred Javier Bardem, I didn't mind Day-Lewis, not even his thin singing voice. Had the script and direction been better, DDL might have had a chance to be terrific, but as it stands he's merely serviceable. And there are a few individual performances here to savor, particularly Kate Hudson as the American journalist, who gets the best of the the three new songs, "Cinema Italiano." And Fergie really hits it out of the park vocally with "Be Italian," although the staging for the number itself is rather flat.

"Nine" opened to disappointing reviews and meager box office. The movie went into wide release on Christmas Day, hitting 1,400 screens nationally over the holiday weekend, but this week the distributor is cutting the number of screens by about 36%. They're trying to put a positive spin on it, saying, "The movie is performing well on about 890 key screens." Hmm, well how about those other 510 screens, guys? I don't think the movie-musical genre is in any immediate danger: "Mamma Mia," artistic abomination though it might be, did a very respectable $144 million domestic gross.

But is it really to much to ask, or hope, that we finally find someone who can put a decent movie musical together?

Forever Plaid - 20th Anniversary Cinecast

A few weeks back, I wrote a rather dismissive post about the one-night-only 20th anniversary cinecast of Forever Plaid, which took place last night. I expressed skepticism as to whether this was the show that the movie-going public was really crying out to see. In response, the folks at NCM Fathom contacted me, inviting me to see the show and judge for myself.

Well, I went. And there were 17 people in the theater, including me and three friends, who had received comps. And this is in Boston, which is about as receptive a locale as any for a show such as this. I get the feeling that there were a lot of empty or near-empty theaters among the 500 or so that were part of the simulcast.

I had never seen Forever Plaid before; it just never really caught my interest. And now that I've seen the show, it still doesn't. On paper, the premise is promising: a four-part close-harmony men's group dies in a car crash, run off the road by a bus filled with Catholic school girls. But for some inscrutable reason, they're granted passage back to earth for one final performance, I guess to earn their place in heaven or some such reason. It really wasn't clear, and I'm frankly not moved to do any research to find out.

Overall, I found the show, created and directed by one Stuart Ross, to be a yawn-fest, repetitious beyond the limits of my patience. I guess I'm just not a fan of this category of song (e.g. "Three Coins in the Fountain," "Love is a Many Splendored Thing," "Matilda," "Rags to Riches" etc.) Perhaps if I were, I would have been more engaged. I was momentarily entertained during the sequence during which the Plaids pay tribute to "The Ed Sullivan Show," which contained some very fun moments, props, and performances. Original Plaid cast members Stan Chandler (Jinx) and David Engel (Smudge) were on hand, joined by Larry Raben (Sparky) and Daniel Reicherd (Frankie). A very talented foursome to be sure, but I found myself wishing I were seeing them in a show that gave them a chance to show what they can really do.

The cinecast included a pre-taped performance of the show, which again I found mostly dull, followed by a live segment featuring the cast members, with special guest star Carol Channing. During the after-show, the Plaids performed some doo-wop versions of "Memory" and "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd" that I actually found quite enjoyable. Then, my beloved Carol came onstage and sang "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend," and even at the advanced age of 88, my girl Carol was an absolute delight. If they release the Forever Plaid movie on DVD, I'm hoping that they'll include the after-concert in the DVD extras. Because, although I can't imagine being in any hurry to watch Forver Plaid again, I would like to get another viewing of the doo-wop showtunes and Carol's star turn.

So, the night was not a total loss. Plus, I got to meet and spend time with my fellow bloggers Scot and Michael Colford (see their respective takes on Forbidden Plaid here and here) as well as my BGMC buddy Victor R-R-R-R-R-Ramos. But it makes me wonder what I'm going to think of The Marvelous Wonderettes when I see it next week, which strikes me as pretty darned similar to Forever Plaid. Oh well. It's all a part of my journey to offer as full a chronicle as possible of modern musical theater. The things I do for you, dear reader.

Let the Sun Shine In - Hair Documentary

Coinciding with the successful Broadway revival of Hair comes the DVD release of the 2007 documentary Hair: Let the Sun Shine In. The film was created by Wolfgang Held and Pola Rapaport, and it represents an attempt to examine the cultural phenomenon that was Hair in the 1960s as well as the social context that surrounded and gave rise to the show. 

Such a powerful and important musical really deserves a better testament than Held and Rapaport provide. The 55-minute film spends about 45 minutes heaping blind and unrestrained praise on the show's creators and producers. Included in the film are interviews with librettist/lyricist James Rado, composer Galt MacDermot, and director Tom O'Horgan, who passed away earlier this year. Rado's writing partner Gerome Ragni died in 1991, before the making of the film. Also on hand are various cast members, including Ben Vereen, Keith Carradine, and Melba Moore.

The film includes a lot of vague hippie speak about creating a new kind of theater and reflecting the zeitgeist and whatnot, but there really isn't any compelling social or critical analysis. To be sure, there's some interesting footage here of the original Broadway cast of Hair, as well as various international productions. And there's some illustrative stock footage of the Vietnam War and the Kent State massacre, which does help bring put the social setting in relief. But Held and Rapaport seem to have mistaken juxtaposition for synthesis. There's really no effort here to provide a coherent thesis. 

The most annoying footage involves the cast of some New York production of Hair involving Rado and O'Horgan, but it's really not clear which production this is. The footage features a lot of self-satisfied young performers showing off for the camera, very pleased with themselves to be involved in such a worthy and important show, but not reflecting for a second that they understood anything about the show.

In the last ten minutes, Held and Rapaport throw in some interesting but undeveloped references to drug use during the Broadway run, tensions between Rado and Ragni, and a sad but irrelevant mention of cast members that later died of AIDS. The one truly compelling sequence involved an actor who played Woof on the show's national tour. The show had been receiving bomb threats from various conservative groups. One night, the stage manager came up to the actor during a performance and said that they had to leave. The hotel where their respective families were staying had been fire bombed. Ultimately both men lost their wives, and the actor lost two young daughters, to the blaze. According to the film, the perpetrators were never caught.

The DVD is available at Amazon, but you can also catch it on the Sundance Channel starting in July. It's worth a watch, but it's certainly not of lasting quality. Fortunately, the shows that inspired the film is.

Hamlet 2: Not to Be

I never got around to seeing the movie "Hamlet 2" in its theatrical release, but I did finally watch it over the weekend on DVD. I'm glad I wasn't in any rush: it isn't very good.

On paper, "Hamlet 2" is exactly the sort of movie that should appeal to me: a snarky take on high school theatrics, with an over-the-top finale lampooning the likes of "High School Musical" and its multimedia offspring. The material is ripe with parodic possibility, but the filmmakers have squandered the opportunities therein.

In the hands of director Andrew Fleming (the man who gave us "Dick" and "The Craft"), "Hamlet 2" is about as dramatically cohesive as your typical John Waters movie. In other words, not at all. I was reminded in particular of "Pecker," in which Waters shows how the wrong director can make even the most talented actors (including the wonderful Lili Taylor and Martha Plimpton) appear awkward and forced. Fleming achieves a similar feat with the prodigiously talented Catherine Keener, and with the sometimes amusing David Arquette, who's wasted here in a one-joke role for which the joke isn't very funny. 

Whatever reason may exist to watch this film lies in the skill of its central performer, Steve Coogan ("I'm Alan Partridge," "Night at the Museum"), a comedian of protean abilities who does what he can to give the limp material some bite, and sometimes succeeds. "Saturday Night Live" alumna Amy Poehler provides a few chuckles in her abbreviated screen time, but overall "Hamlet 2" seems to think that it's a hell of a lot more funny than it really is. The movie fashions itself a cheeky little indie flick with a hip, ironic take on modern society, but it comes off more like the similarly disappointing and disjointed "Wet Hot American Summer": sporadically funny, but overall awkward, sometimes painful to watch.

Frost/Nixon: The Movie

Lately, the movies have been helping me catch up on some of the dramas that I missed on Broadway. Doubt was one. I had never seen the play live, but I was thoroughly captivated by John Patrick Shanley's film adaptation. (See my review here.)

Another play I missed on stage was Frost/Nixon. But whereas I had been looking forward to the movie version of "Doubt," I was less eager about the film of "Frost/Nixon." The reason: director Ron Howard, who has never been my favorite. His "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" was an abomination before God and man, and "The Paper," "Cocoon," and "Backdraft" were also atrocious, IMHO.

In fairness, I hear good things about "A Beautiful Mind," but I have no intention of seeing it, mostly because Russell Crowe makes me peevish. And "Apollo 13" just never really appealed to me, although it's apparently a decent flick as well. The only Ron Howard movie I've enjoyed is "Parenthood," but even then it was only really for the terrific performances, particularly that of the wonderful Dianne Wiest.

So it was with great reservation that I took in "Frost/Nixon," but I'm happy to report that I genuinely enjoyed the movie. Howard seems to have developed as a filmmaker, although not quite to the point where I'd consider him a master, merely competent. For the most part, he eschews the hokey, Capraesque touches that mar much of his previous work, with a few groan-worthy exceptions. With the able assistance of Peter Morgan, who crafted the screenplay for "Frost/Nixon" from his original play, Howard creates here a terrific sense of time and place, providing just enough context to bring the drama alive.

There's been a lot of discussion as to the historical accuracy of the play and the movie. One major criticism has focused on the fictitious phone call the Richard Nixon makes to Frost shortly before the final TV interview. I really didn't have a problem with it. The call provides dramatic impetus for Frost to get off his ass and nail this mother to the wall. Perhaps because the events are relatively recent, people have more of a problem with this sort of dramatic device. But when you think of other historical plays -- A Man for All Seasons, say, or The Crucible -- there's even more artifice involved, since with "Frost/Nixon," we at least have the actual interviews and historical documents to compare it to, should anyone be so moved. 

The main attraction of "Frost/Nixon" ultimately lies in its two central performances. Of course, there's Frank Langella who friggin' knocks it out of the park as Nixon. The true wonder of Langella is that he handles dramatic and comedic roles with equal aplomb. I had the privilege of seeing Langella as Garry Essendine in the most recent revival of Noel Coward's Present Laughter, and it was an absolute tour de force. Langella brings dimension and credibility to the role of Nixon, shedding light on both the pathos and the bluster of this loathsome and enigmatic man.

But the real revelation for me was Michael Sheen as David Frost. With all due respect to Langella, Frost is the more challenging role here, because he starts out as such a superficial cypher. Sheen imbues the playboy character with great brio, then gradually reveals the layers and complexity behind a man who has just as much to win or lose from this battle of wills as Nixon does. Sheen clearly conveyed the sense that this guy starts out way over his head, only to segue into the requisite ferocity for taking this tarnished titan down.

So, overall, it's a great season for plays on screen, and I highly recommend both "Doubt" and "Frost/Nixon." And we also have the film adaptation of August: Osage County to look forward to, although it looks like we're going to have to wait until at least 2011 to see it.

Doubt: The Movie

After reading some of the reviews of the new "Doubt" movie, I was a bit hesitant to take it in. Reports that stars Meryl Streep and Phillip Seymour Hoffman were chewing up scenery left and right gave me pause.

Well, I'm happy to report that I witnessed no such scenery noshing on the screen. In fact, I found this movie version of John Patrick Shanley's Pulitzer-Prize and Tony-Award winning play Doubt quite compelling, and I was thrilled at the nuance of the three central performances, including that of the always lovely and moving Amy Adams.

The movie starts off with some awkward and obvious directorial touches. (Shanley also directs the movie, from his own screenplay.) And there are certainly some moments when the actors appear at least on the verge of teetering off the precipice of subtlety into the chasm of melodrama. But in the grand tradition of movie mysteries, the film kept me guessing until the very end. And beyond.

Chief among the movie's assets are of course its three central performances. Are there any finer actors, on film or stage, than Streep and Hoffman? Streep gives a solid and credible performance here as the school principal on a mission. But Hoffman is the real star of the movie, bringing dimension and pathos to a complex character. Looking into his soulful yet inscrutable eyes, you could just as easily condemn as exonerate this priest, as portrayed by Hoffman. And Adams, as I've said, makes for an effective and affecting foil to Streep's grand inquisitor.

Oh, and a quibble. The official subtitle of the play version of Doubt calls it a parable. I'm at a loss to explain this notation. Doesn't a parable typically have a lesson to teach? Well, how can the play claim to be a parable when it goes out of its way to make you...well...doubt what's actually going on? Is Shanley being ironic? Anyone care to take a stab at a clarification?

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

I've been a little late getting to the party on "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog." It had been on the outskirts of my consciousness, and I downloaded the three current episodes onto my iPhone a few weeks back, but I didn't get around to watching them until this past weekend. You can watch them online by clicking through the link above, or you can download the three "acts" on iTunes for $3.99. The three episodes have been among the most popular TV show downloads since their release, attesting to the continued re-popularization of musicals.

I must say, I was pleasantly surprised, both at the quality of the writing and the performances. These are no slapdash YouTube efforts, but fully fledged 15-minute episodes, with Hollywood production values. I guess it's a tribute to the mainstream nature of blogs that writer/producer/director Joss Whedon ("Buffy the Vampire Slayer," "Angel") chose to distribute this property online. Apparently the series arose out of boredom during the recent Hollywood writers' strike. Whedon has said that he hopes that his show becomes a model for alternate content distribution.

Of course, it also fits in with the central conceit of the show: Dr. Horrible uses a video weblog to announce to the world his nefarious intentions. Neil Patrick Harris is terrific as the eponymous doctor, bringing sharp comic timing, a terrific singing voice, and a vulnerable and sweet quality to his interactions with his love interest, the wonderful Felicia Day. As Dr. Horrible's nemesis in life and in love, Nathan Fillion makes for a suitably smarmy Captain Hammer.

Of course, the real star of this opus is Joss Whedon and his co-writer siblings Jed Whedon and Zack Whedon. The Whedons' dialog is by turns intentionally awkward and blisteringly funny. Although I've never seen a single episode of "Buffy," I have heard about the musical episode "Once More With Feeling." Based on "Dr. Horrible," I'm going to have to track at the very least that musical episode down. And the songs are actually quite good, although the lyrics can sometimes veer into the land of trite phrasing. But on the whole, it's a very enjoyable series, which is reportedly to be followed by additional online installments, as well as a soundtrack recording.

Will the success of "Dr. Horrible" spawn additional online musicals? It seems likely. Hey, let's put one together ourselves! My dad's got this old barn...

Mamma Mia!? More Like "Oy Gevalt!"

I was actually kind of looking forward to seeing the movie version of Mamma Mia!, mostly because of the film's terrific cast. I was a bit deflated when the reviews came out last Friday, but nonetheless resolved to see the movie over the weekend, lest the word-of-mouth sway me too far in either direction.

Well, let's just say that the reviews were overly kind, even the scathing ones. This atrocity sets movie musicals back twenty years. Yes, you'd need to go back to John Huston's bloated "Annie," Richard Attenborough's insipid "A Chorus Line," or Colin Higgins' flaccid "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas" to find a movie musical this clumsy, charmless, and just plain painful to sit through.

The worst of the movie's crimes lies in wasting its wonderfully talented cast. Poor Meryl Streep is forced to mug, snort, writhe, and squeal her way through this discomfiting affair. The marvelous Christine Baranski comes off as an awkward mix of Mae West and Frank N. Furter from "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." And the otherwise wonderful Julie Walters gives the most over-the-top and painfully frenetic performance in a movie chockablock with same.

The rest of the cast doesn't fare much better, although the young lovers Amanda Seyfreid and Dominic Cooper come off marginally less embarrassing than their more mature co-stars. To say that Pierce Brosnan can't sing would be an understatement. Not since Audrey Hepburn in "Funny Face," or perhaps Vanessa Redgrave in "Camelot," have we heard warbling this forced and tuneless. Stellan Skarsgard somehow manages to maintain his dignity, despite the humiliating business Lloyd gives him in a misguided effort to add life to his songs. And the less said about the normally reliable Colin Firth the better.

How do you make this slate of pros look lame and amateurish? You hire an inexperienced director and a hack writer. Phyllida Lloyd should never be allowed to make another movie. Her enervating mix of hyper-reality and lame musical comedy drains what was an amusing trifle of a stage show of whatever charm to which it might once have laid claim. Her tyro director status makes itself readily apparent in myriad ways, including her use of hackneyed camera tricks. (Example: When the Meryl Streep character first sees her three former suitors, Lloyd has the camera zoom quickly in on each of the men's faces. What is this, "Looney Tunes"? I'm surprised she didn't ask the sound guy to throw a "SPROING!" effect into the soundtrack.) 

Screenwriter Catherine Johnson also wrote the book for the stage version of Mamma Mia! To begin with, the plot is stolen from Alan Jay Lerner's little-known musical Carmelina. (Admittedly, Lerner himself stole the story from the movie "Buona Sera, Mrs. Campbell", although he denied it to his dying day.) But more important, there's no credible drama, no believable emotion, and no genuine wit to be had anywhere in the script. But somehow the show works, whereas the movie holds an unflattering light up to the holes in the plot, the dearth of humor, and the lack of character development. And Anthony van Laast's choreography, which on stage was passable, here looks like something out of a local PTA talent show.

Normally, I'll buy the DVD to pretty much any movie musical, if only to help prove that there's a market for this stuff. However, I would sooner endure a colonoscopy and a root canal simultaneously than suffer through the pain of Mamma Mia! ever again.

Wall-E: Or How Showtunes Could Save the World

I really don't go to the movies that often, but I do try to see every Pixar feature. Their animation and storytelling are head and shoulders above those of the competition. So I was planning on seeing "WALL-E" anyway, especially after it received such rapturous reviews.

But, then I was in the Drama Book Shop on 40th Street, one of my few remaining theater haunts, now that Footlight Records closed its retail store, and Triton Gallery moved to God knows where. I overheard the Drama Book Shop staff discussing "WALL-E," and how Hello, Dolly! somehow played a key role in the plot. I left almost immediately, lest I overhear any further spoilers. But I left intrigued, and decided to get going a bit early yesterday and catch an early show of "WALL-E" before I saw Passing Strange in the afternoon and then Bash'd in the evening.

Well, I was thoroughly enchanted, as I have been for nearly every Pixar feature. ("Cars" didn't really do it for me, but I adore "Finding Nemo," "The Incredibles," "Monsters Inc.," etc.) I had heard that there was very little dialog in the first half of "WALL-E," and that once the talking starts, some of the magic disappears. I disagree: I was charmed from start to finish.

Pixar movies have something that no other animation studio has been able to replicate: a heart. Not a schmaltzy sense of sentimentality, but a genuine, honest heart. Of course, the real fun for me came from WALL-E's obsession with the "Hello, Dolly!" movie. He's particularly enamored with "Put on Your Sunday Clothes" and "It Only Takes a Moment," and the latter becomes especially important to the movie's dénouement.

In "WALL-E," the world has been overrun with garbage, and the entire population of earth takes off in spaceships to wait for the world to become inhabitable again. Now, it's not as though showtunes are the mechanism by which the world starts to heal, but they certainly serve a very important role. It appears that there's a big old queen working at Pixar, and he's working a little Disney magic to subliminally suggest to kids that showtunes are crucial to human survival.

Now that's some propaganda I can live with.

Sweeney Todd: A Masterwork on Stage and Screen

I'm going to cut right to the chase: Tim Burton's "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" is a thrilling piece of cinema, nothing less than a masterwork. Who else but Tim Burton could have truly done justice to Stephen Sondheim's masterpiece?

The success of the film hinges on its two central performances: Johnny Depp as Sweeney and Helena Bonham Carter as Mrs. Lovett. In the vocal department, well, they're no great shakes, although Depp comes off slightly better. Depp possesses a soulful wail, Bonham Carter a wistful, slightly off-pitch penny whistle. But somehow, the vocal limitations become secondary to the two laser-sharp performances. As I've said before, Depp and Bonham Carter are two of the finest actors of my generation, and in every scene they demonstrate mastery of their craft.

The rest of the cast is uniformly excellent. Alan Rickman is remarkable, as always, and brings a suitably menacing and credibly creepy quality to his portrayal of Judge Turpin. Timothy Spall is likewise superb as the deliciously slimy Beadle Bamford, and showcases his trademark nuance and depth in what could have been a cardboard role.

But Tim Burton is certainly one of the stars of this movie, particularly via his signature visual style: there's a soot-covered, gaunt, fetid feel to the entire movie. Compelling, too, are Burton's dynamic and illuminating camera angles. The camera never seems to sit still, just as Sweeney's vengeful mind is never idle for a moment. Burton does a masterful job building tension throughout the movie, particularly impressive to me in that I've seen the show MANY times in various forms (the original Broadway production, the concert version, the Broadway revival, the national tour of same, etc.)

Burton achieves a good deal of this tension by making significant cuts in the score, both in terms of entire numbers excised ("Ah, Miss," "City on Fire," "Parlor Songs," etc.) and shortened versions of remaining numbers. Sondheim purists will no doubt balk, but I'm convinced that the shorter form actually made the piece more effective, more compelling, and ultimately more terrifying. The various versions of "Attend the Tale of Sweeney Todd" have been cut, but this is understandable, given the inherent, Brechtian theatricality of those songs. Burton maintains the melody as underscoring, a recurring leitmotif that accents a ruminating Sweeney. The slightly trimmed "A Little Priest" as Todd and Lovett stare out the shop window and "select" their pie flavors from the "menu" of passersby is a monstrous joy, and one of the few light moments in an otherwise grim succession.

Because, make no mistake: this is a gruesome, graphic, gut-wrenching movie. Burton doesn't shy away from showing in full color (well, red, for the most part) the true extent of Todd's and Lovett's horrific crimes. From the very first murder, Burton makes it clear that this won't be stylized violence, but rather full-on gore.

Burton's concept for casting seems to have been to skew the entire cast younger than those that we've witnessed in the various stage versions. Apparently he wanted most of the cast to seem younger than Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, both of whom are in their early forties, but could certainly pass for younger. Jamie Campbell Bower as Anthony is a little slip of a girlie boy, aged 19. Ed Sanders as Toby can't be more than eleven or twelve. Both actors took a bit of getting used to, but eventually they won me over. There's really not a single weak performance in the movie. Sacha Baron Cohen (yes, THAT Sacha Baron Cohen: Ali G and Borat) didn't impress me as Pirelli at first, but when he comes to blackmail Todd and gets his comeuppance, he redeemed himself quite nicely.

[SPOILER ALERT: STOP READING HERE IF YOU'VE NEVER SEEN THE SHOW AND DON'T WANT TO SPOIL THE ENDING.]

Burton employs two significant flashbacks, one to show Benjamin Barker being stolen away from his wife and child, and one to show Lucy being tricked and raped by the judge. The first is a bit twee and unnecessary, but the second really helps establish the menace of the judge character. Another problem with the flashback is that we get a strong sense of what Lucy looks like, which makes things a bit harder on Burton when he has to introduce the beggar woman without revealing her identity. Minor quibbles, to be sure.

The entire movie builds to a shattering climax, made all the more visceral by Burton's graphic approach. Mrs. Lovett's death is especially horrifying: Burton shows the character catching on fire and languishing in the flames as Todd stares maniacally on. Burton also employs some heart-breaking touches as Todd discovers what he's done to his beloved Lucy. One significant change Burton makes from the stage version is that the Toby character witnesses all of the hideous events from a sewer grate, and rather than going insane, he emerges angry and seeking vengeance.

The result of all of Burton's efforts is quite simply the best movie musical in decades, an absolute tour-de-force. Go see this movie. Multiple times. I just might see you there.

Disney's Enchanted is...well...Enchanting

I absolutely adore my eight-year-old niece Alyssa, but I don't always adore the movies we see together. Lately my brother and I have fallen into a pattern when we take his kids to the movies: he goes to some shoot-em-up or chop-socky flick with his 15-year-old son Nicholas, and I take Alyssa to something a tad more appropriate to her age and girly sensibility. Fortunately, my sensibilities are decidedly girly as well, but I have been forced to see some pretty dreadful stuff, such as the recent "Underdog" movie. Sheesh.

Well, this weekend, while Mark and Nick took in "Beowulf," Alyssa and I went to see "Enchanted." I was actually looking forward to this movie, given its multifarious Broadway pedigree, and I'm glad to say that it did not disappoint. The songs are by Stephen Schwartz (lyrics) and Alan Menken (music), a formidable pair indeed, and they do a bang-up job of sending up archetypal Disney ditties, particularly with "True Love's Kiss" and "Happy Working Song." The big supposed show-stopper, "That's How You Know," is a bit more lackluster, but it certainly serves its purpose. 

Beyond the Schwartz/Menken connection, the movie also employs a healthy complement of veterans from the New York stage, and it was lots of fun trying to pick them all out, including Tony-winner Idina Menzel (as Patrick Dempsey's girlfriend), Tony-winner Tonya Pinkins (Dempsey's divorce client), Edmund Lyndeck (derelict old man), Brian D'Arcy James (voice on soundtrack), Gregory Jbara (voice on soundtrack), and Daniel Mastrogiorgio (ensemble).

As a charming bonus, the movie also employs a number of Broadway performers who have previously served as the voices of various Disney heroines. Jodi Benson, who plays Dempsey's assistant, was the voice of Ariel in "The Little Mermaid."
Judy Kuhn, who has a very brief bit as a pregnant woman with a bunch of kids, was the singing voice of "Pocahontas." And Paige O'Hara, whom I didn't quite catch in the movie, but who is nonetheless listed in the credits, was the voice of Belle in "Beauty and the Beast."

The movie itself is quite good, and would still be so even without the theater-queen-recognition factor. It's a clever and engaging mix of animation and live-action, and it gently and lovingly skewers many of the conventions and clichés that Disney invented in the first place. "Enchanted" is a terrific holiday treat for the kids in your life, be they female or male, but it's also great for tapping into that eight-year-old girl within.

I know I have one. Isn't it time you embraced yours?

Hairspray Movie: Moderately Enjoyable

As I've stated or implied many times in previous posts, I'm thrilled that the movie-musical genre has made a comeback. Film musicals pretty much disappeared during the 80s and 90s, except for the occasional painful misstep like A Chorus Line or Newsies.

Now movie musicals are back with a vengeance. The problem is, there's no one left alive who really knows how to execute one well. Take, for instance, Hairspray. Director/choreographer Adam Shankman does a terrific job with the latter, but an awkward and unconvincing job on the former.

But Shankman isn't alone in his relative ineptitude. Bill Condon didn't fair much better with Dreamgirls, although it was certainly a valiant attempt. Rob Marshall did an OK job with Chicago, although it would have been great to see what Bob Fosse could have done with it. Susan Stroman certainly made a mess of The Producers. And the less said about Chris Columbus and Rent, the better. (Apparently I'm not the only one who feels this way: Columbus hasn't directed a film since.)

For me, nothing will ever replace John Waters' original "Hairspray" movie, but I certainly found the stage version of Hairspray entertaining. The score by Marc Shamain and Scott Wittman is fun and upbeat, although it certainly has its share of clunkers ("It Takes Two," "Cooties," "Miss Baltimore Crabs," "Without Love"). Overall, the show made me realize what a great show The Producers is. I had been mildly underwhelmed when I saw The Producers in previews, and was truly astonished when the show received such a rhapsodic reception. But seeing Hairspray made me realize how truly well crafted The Producers really is.

Anyway, back to the movie version of Hairspray. The real story here is the cast, and I have to say that based on the previews, I wasn't looking forward to seeing John Travolta as Edna Turnblad. But he grew on me. A little. Once I got past the fact that he shouldn't have been playing the part -- at all -- I sort of settled in and went with the flow. Not for a second did I ever believe he was anyone else but John Travolta, but I was eventually able to move on and consider the rest of the cast in turn.

Michelle Pfeiffer as Velma von Tussle sharp and funny. She's really held up well over the years, and it's nice to see her in a part that's worthy of her considerable talents. (As opposed to, say, Grease 2. Yeesh.) Christopher Walken as Wilbur Turnblad was an old pro, revealing his stage training and musical-comedy background.  I was pleased to see that Queen Latifah as Motormouth Maybelle was much better than she was in Chicago. I didn't believe her for a second as Mama Morton, but she wasn't nearly as wooden as Motormouth, and actually seemed to be having a good time.

Nikki Blonski as Tracy Turnblad was downright adorable and very appealing. James Marsden as Corny Collins was one of the best things in the entire movie. He was a very natural screen presence, a great voice, and he's a terrific dancer, too. He was one of the few people on screen who really seemed to get what the movie was about. One major discovery for me was Elijah Kelly as Seaweed, another natural. Kelley has this amazing energy, despite some awkward camera angles during his big number, "Run and Tell That."

Three members of the cast stood out for me as being sorely miscast. The least egregious was Brittany Snow as Amber, who was fine but unremarkable. Amanda Bynes was practically nonexistent as Penny Pingleton. She had no presence, no sparkle, no nothing. Plus she's an awkward dancer. It's a shame, because Penny could have been a real stand-out role, as the wonderful Kerry Butler made it on Broadway.
Another disappointment was Zac Efron as Link Larken. Efron lacks the requisite charisma for Link, although it really seemed he was working hard at it, which of course is exactly how to make sure it won't happen. He wasn't arresting, he was just blandly cute. No wonder he's a Disney favorite.

Special shout out to my former student Hayley Podschun on her film debut as Tammy. Sweetheart, you were sensational! I couldn't take my eyes off you, and not just because I was looking for you in every number. You're off to a terrific start, and I wish you nothing but the best.