Ripple Effects

The Soloist (2009): The Issue of Authenticity

The True Story

Nathaniel Anthony Ayers was born 1951 in Cleveland, Ohio. He started his music education in the public schools. He would be lucky to get a violin, be it one or two strings. Music was his love and he showed his talent at a young age. Ayers later went to Ohio University and Ohio State University. He had also played many times at the Aspen Music Festival. His musical achievement culminated in a scholarship that sent him to Juilliard in New York City in 1970 when he was 19.

Ayers started with the double bass, later changed to the cello. He was one of the few African-American students at the prestigious music school at that time. Unfortunately, he only stayed there for two years. Stricken with paranoid schizophrenia, Ayers had to drop out and return home to Cleveland. With his talent and the training he was getting, if he had stayed on, he would have no problem getting a spot in any major orchestra in the country. But his mother could find no solution for his worsening condition. He was in and out of hospitals, receiving shock treatment as a last resort.

Ayers later drifted off to California and ended up living on the streets of L.A. When L.A. Times reporter Steve Lopez found him, it was at Pershing Square, where a statue of Beethoven found a permanent home. Passing by, Lopez heard classical music, and later discovered that it was played on a 2-string violin by a homeless man whose possessions were all that a shopping cart could hold. That was the beginning of their friendship and the re-discovery of Nathaniel Anthony Ayers.

Lopez not only got his story, he had introduced back into society from the fringe of homelessness, the talented Mr. Ayers. Based on this story, he went on to write the book The Soloist. The members of the L.A. Philharmonic also offer help, letting Ayers in to listen to their rehearsals at the Disney Concert Hall, giving him lessons and playing with him the music he has loved. As Lopez describes, music is Ayers’ medicine, these musician friends his doctors, the Disney Concert Hall his hospital.

Ayers’ real life story has been succinctly captured in a short 12 minutes documentary on CBS 60 Minutes. From the short clip, Ayers’ gentleness, grace, articulation and musical talent readily shine through. These few minutes’ glimpses into the person and talent of Nathaniel Anthony Ayers just show us that any story on him would be most authentically done by Mr. Ayers himself, and any feature film deservedly be a documentary.

The Movie

The authentic transposing of Ayers’ unique personality, his musical talent and techniques onto screen proves to be a challenge. With all due respect to the excellent actors Jamie Foxx as Ayers, and Robert Downey Jr. as Lopez, the real life story just doesn’t transpose that effectively. Ironically, the problem might well be that they are actors. I was watching a life acted out. Director Joe Wright has imbued the characters and scenes with colors and dramatic effects that at times, masking the poignancy with contrived overtones.

Depicting classical music talents on screen is difficult unless the actor is proficient in the same instrument. I remember how I cringed seeing Meryl Streep ‘play’ the violin in Music of the Heart (1999). I know Foxx is an achieved musician himself, trained in the piano but not a stringed instrument. And I’ve heard how he had worked hard at placing his fingers on the cello to be in sync with the melody for his part in The Soloist. Naturally, such preparation is insufficient to portray a string player of Ayers’ calibre. The musical authenticity comes when the L.A. Philharmonic performs, but it only brings a sense of incongruence by comparison.

Director Joe Wright’s works include the passionate Atonement (2007) and the adaptation of Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (2005). Ironically, in The Soloist, a movie where compassion and the healing power of music should be in the forefront, he falls short in depicting the heart and soul of Ayers’ story. Wright has brought forth a hip flick, surprisingly dispassionate and two-dimensional. The music of Beethoven could have been used more poignantly overall. (I can’t help but think of Wright’s other work Atonement, where the rhythm and sound of just a typewriter can be so riveting.) Also, maybe it’s a sign of our time, but I was disappointed that in a crucial scene, Beethoven’s affective power is being reduced to simply digital, visual effects.

With all its best intentions, the movie tries to touch on too many issues: homelessness, mental illness, the cure for mental illness, religious street ministry, journalism, career and marriage, … just to name a few. I once heard a nurse say after feeling someone’s pulse: “Irregular heartbeat, all over the place.” Now why do I have that memory while watching this movie?

I’ve been trying to pinpoint what is lacking. One of the better film versions of classical musicians plagued with mental illness is Hilary and Jackie (1998). Director Anand Tucker sensitively crafted an engrossing story. Emily Watson gave a superb performance in not only depicting the inner struggles but the outward musicality of the renowned cellist Jacqueline du Pré. Now, come to think of it, maybe what The Soloist lacks is such sensitive, articulate and refined artistry, in which light Mr. Ayers truly deserves to be portrayed.

~ ~ ½ Ripples

The Appeal and Fallout of the Susan Boyle Phenomenon

Update: CLICK HERE to read my post on Susan Boyle’s debut Album ‘I Dreamed A Dream’.

By now, tens of millions have converged on YouTube to watch the sensational phenomenon of Susan Boyle, the middle-age woman from Scotland on Britain’s Got Talent. Arti has waited for the dust to settle a bit before commenting, allowing her hindsight to catch up.

So, what’s the appeal of Susan Boyle? The planned and scripted intention of the producer and judges aside, what is so attractive about the 47 year-old woman? Is it the plain, country look, the greying frizzy hair, the unkempt and overweight physique? In this image-driven, urbane society of ours, these features definitely aren’t valuable assets. Or, as so many have claimed, it’s her voice that has enthralled us all. Yes, the lady certainly has potential and talent in this regard. But truth be told, could Susan Boyle have garnered so much praise if she had looked differently?

The universal appeal of Susan Boyle is the mismatch of her look with her voice, a perceived dissonance based on a prejudiced, preconceived notion marking viewers’ expectations. What talent could a middle-age, plain-looking, hamlet-dwelling woman have? The public has a real fun case of being fooled. Ha, the joke is on us. We’ve been wrong all along. Unattractive bodies can be talented personalities. And the audience had enjoyed the twist and surprise. Susan Boyle’s TV appearance provides real entertainment value, albeit manipulative according to skeptics of reality shows. Simon Cowell should be most gratified. It’s all about the ratings, and future record sales.

susan-boyles-new-look But wait, don’t speak too soon. Now the 47 year-old has a few hairs on her eyebrows plucked, her unruly lock trimmed and dyed a younger look, donned some neater attire. Lo and behold, the mismatch has diminished. As the excitement wanes, criticisms arise. “She shouldn’t change too much,” the public decries. “That’s the limit that she should go, no further,” the critics advise. Wouldn’t it be terrible if Susan Boyles decides to join Weight Watchers. Of course she shouldn’t, it’ll be much less entertaining.

What have we become now? Spectators of a freak show in a circus? What about those lyrics that have enthralled us initially? Can a woman not be allowed to have her own way, make her own decision to change or not, choose her own lifestyle, and interpret her own dream? Is she selling her soul just by having a facial? I’m afraid Susan Boyle is no match for our sensationalism and thrill-seeking crowd of reality TV viewers, or the humongous entertainment business looking to generate more profits in whatever way possible.

I worry too that the overnight rise to stardom is making Susan Boyle equally vulnerable to become an instant victim of the fallout. A trampled rose or discarded weed, they meet the same destiny. Of course, I wish her well and that the pursuit of her dream will not become a nightmare in the callous arena of public opinion.

The curious case of Susan Boyle also reminds me of another woman with talent living in obscurity two hundred years ago. She was a bit younger, living in rural England, striving to be herself in the pursuit of her dream to become a writer. Sadly, she did not live to middle-age, nor see her name credited to her work. To avoid fallouts and social reverberations, she had to seek anonymity. Now we know her as Jane Austen.

The lyrics of that tune still sound poignant: “After changes upon changes, we’re more or less the same; after changes, we’re more or less the same…”

Photo Credit: Andrew Milligan/PA, Source: Times Online http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/tv_and_radio/article6161198.ece

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Original writing by Arti of Ripple Effects. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. If you are reading this on a website other than Ripple Effects, you are reading a post that has been copied without permission. Go to https://rippleeffects.wordpress.com to read this and other original and interesting articles on entertainment, books and movies.

Copyright Infringement

Arti is going through the most depressing blogging experience at the moment. No, it’s not the Blog Stats, or the comments, or the lack of them. I admit they can affect one’s mood.

The most discouraging scenario for a blog writer is to see not one, or two, but 10 of her posts being copied and reprinted in their entirety on another website. Of course when they do that, there won’t be any link back to your own blog, neither would your name appear as the writer.

I was aware of this as a “pingback” on my posts, waiting for me to approve. A click on the trackback link I found they were no “pingbacks”. My whole home page with 10 posts all appeared on the plaigerizer’s site. What’s funny is even my last post, stating I was Arti at Ripple Effects, was intact in the content.

This just confirms it’s a myth to think it’s a compliment to your writing when you see your work copied. Do you think Splog operators would care to read every post and think it’s good before stealing? The whole process is automated. It just happens that maybe my posts just carry the tags they’re looking for. By the way, all my 10 posts are categorized under “Music” on that Splog. You can tell how much they care about the content of even their own site!

These are Splogs, Spamblogs. They exist to collect advertising revenues using other people’s materials just to attract traffic. How can one write so many posts all on a single day if not by the simple act of copying and pasting? It has been noted that on the average, a blogger takes from 1 to 8 hours to writer a post. Well, for slow bloggers like Arti of Ripple Effects, it takes days of mulling, reading, viewing, researching, before writing. The last step in the whole process usually logs in the higher end of that 1-to-8-hour range.

Arti feels robbed, violated, and knocked out. What’s the point of continuing wtih this if whatever I write is taken away and published as somebody else’s work?

While still sustaining a concussion, Arti went through the process of writing a complaint letter, found in the very informative website Plaigarism Today, and trying to find the hosting company of the site through http://whois.net. But of course, it’s blocked by the domain owner so I had nowhere to send my complaint letter. It did though lead me to the site Privacy Protect, where I could at least launch a report of abuse and hopefully locate the domain owner. As of now, I’m still waiting for a reply.

Finally, an email to WordPress Support, a most helpful source, led me to the possible hosting company, to whom I directly sent my letter of complaint. Within the hour, I received their reply, stating that they had ‘reminded’ the owner to remove the pirated content. I assume they are in good faith, since the language is not in English, except the few lines addressed to me. I appreciate their immediate response.

Whew! Even writing this sequence of events is exhausting! But now that I’m done, I feel relieved. Another reason why we blog. Ok, maybe it’s still worth it, to continue writing, blogging, and all that.

So yes, if you’re reading this on a website other than Ripple Effects, you know you are reading a post that has been copied without permission. Go to https://rippleeffects.wordpress.com to read this and other interesting articles in their original.

Update April 29: Arti felt like the victim of a practical joke when she saw this very post, entitled “Copyright Infringement”, was copied on to that Splog mentioned here. Anyway, here’s the good news: The Splog in question has now been suspended by the hosting administration. Thanks for all your moral and practical support.

The Proximidade: Celebrating Closeness

Arti of Ripple Effects is honored to receive The Proximidade Blogging Award from ds of third-storey window. A wonderful view she has over there. Thanks again ds!

“The Proximidade Award believes in the Proximity – nearness in space, time and relationships. These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement! Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this clever-written text into the body of their award.”

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This is a while back now. Although ds is very generous as to spare us the obligation to pass it on, I feel I should share this award by naming some worthy recipients whose blog has closed the gap among us, in one way or another, narrowing our physical distances through common interests and other higher ideals.

It’s my pleasure to pass the Proximidade Award to the following Blogs, in alphabetical order:

Book Club Girl — for closing the gap between authors and readers by her own radio show ‘Authors on Air’.

Classy Music — for drawing us closer with news and views of classy musicians and their performance. Take note, ye fans of Susan Boyle and Paul Potts.

FilmChat — Movie reviewer Peter Chattaway (no kidding) engages us with insightful and interesting dialogues between faith and film.

Jane Austen Today — Great job Laurel Ann and Vic, in connecting Janeites the world over by their excessively diverting blog. (LA and V: I’m still working at finding ‘classics’ blogs for the ED Award.)

Visual Dialogues — Blogging from Hong Kong, Molly Mavis closes the gap between East and West with her perceptive photography.

I trust you’ll find the above blogs informative and entertaining, well deserving the Proximidade Award.

The Poets’ Corner

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Just got this from the library, and it’s a gem. The Poets’ Corner is subtitled The One-And-Only Poetry Book for the Whole Family, compiled by John Lithgow. Yes, that’s John Lithgow of the ‘3rd Rock from the Sun’. From Matthew Arnold to W. B. Yeats, Geoffrey Chaucer to Allen Ginsberg, it’s more like a high school curriculum than your light family reading. However, the collection includes many favorite selections, ideal to share as literary heirloom.

Lithgow presents fifty poets whose work he had grown up with. He has written a two-page introduction for each of them, a personal response to a piece of literary art. In the introduction of the book, he explains how it all started. Lithgow was invited to host a benefit for a non-profit organization. The fund raiser was for the fostering of creative approaches to educating autistic children. He was given a few poems to read out that night, poignant poetry that speaks to the heart of parents with autistic children. That night, Lithgow saw the power of poems read out, the voice and the words striking a shared chord with deep resonance. Thus planted the seed for this book.

The central theme here is not autism, but the selections here speak to a general and wider audience, humanity at large. The bonus is a CD featuring readings from Lithgow And Friends. I believe that poetry read out loud offers a heightened enjoyment than just from silent reading. I had heard recordings of Robert Frost and William Carlos Williams reading their own work, leaving indelible resonance that I didn’t get from reading off the page.

Here in this CD, what we have are professional performers, experienced and well-trained in the art of speech, dramatically performing these selections. And Lithgow’s ‘Friends’ include: Eileen Atkins, Kathy Bates, Glenn Close, Jodie Foster, Morgan Freeman, Helen Mirren, Lynn Redgrave, Susan Sarandon, Gary Sinise, and Sam Waterston… what a cast.

Here are some of my favorites, too bad I can’t embed the sound track. But do check it out from your local library, or even get a copy of your own. It’s a keeper.

We Real Cool by Gwendolyn Brooks

(Read by Morgan Freeman)

The Pool Players.

Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We

Left school. We

Lurk late. We

Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We

Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We

Die soon.

***

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud by William Wordsworth

(Read by Helen Mirren)

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

***

The Red Wheelbarrow

by William Carlos Williams

(Read by Jodie Foster)

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens.

***

No Doctors Today, Thank You by Ogden Nash

(Read by John Lithgow… I LOL listening to him)

They tell me that euphoria is the feeling of feeling wonderful,

well, today I feel euphorian,

Today I have the agility of a Greek god and the appetitite of a Victorian.

Yes, today I may even go forth without my galoshes,

Today I am a swashbuckler, would anybody like me to buckle any swashes?

This is my euphorian day,

I will ring welkins and before anybody answers I will run away.

I will tame me a caribou

And bedeck it with marabou.

I will pen me my memoirs.

Ah youth, youth! What euphorian days them was!

I wasn’t much of a hand for the boudoirs,

I was generally to be found where the food was.

Does anybody want any flotsam?

I’ve gotsam.

Does anybody want any jetsam?

I can getsam.

I can play chopsticks on the Wurlitzer,

I can speak Portuguese like a Berlitzer.

I can don or doff my shoes without tying or untying the laces because

I am wearing moccasins,

And I practically know the difference between serums and antitoccasins.

Kind people, don’t think me purse-proud, don’t set me down as vainglorious,

I’m just a little euphorious.

Lithgow and friends have convinced me all the more that poetry is written to be heard.

Poets’ Corner: The One-And-Only Poetry Book For The Whole Family, compiled by John Lithgow, Grand Central Publishing, 2007, 280 pages.

National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month. I’m glad we still celebrate poetry in this day of ephemeral twittering. W. H. Auden once described poetry as “memorable speech”. As millions upon millions join in on-line chats, exchanging the most trivial of their everyday life unreservedly, and even addictively all day long, how we need poetry all the more, to create lines that strive for some memorable quality worthy of keeping.

The late Canadian communication guru Marshall McLuhan was right, the medium is the message. And such is the message of our time. Mind you, I’m no Luddite, my iPhone is evidence. I’ve gone through this before, so I’m not going to dwell on it here again. It’s just that the rash and temporal nature of our medium, and mode, for that matter, make me long for quality and permanence.

After posting an excerpt of T.S. Eliot’s poetry in my last entry, I just didn’t have enough. I re-read and explored more of his work and was amazed at how prophetic his vision was. To celebrate National Poetry Month, here’s Arti’s selections of lines from the work of T.S. Eliot, just for our post-modern, Facebook and Twitter generation.

Twit twit twit

Jug jug “>jug jug jug jug jug

So rudely forc’d.

— The Waste Land (1922)

Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.

— Ash Wednesday (1930)

There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

….

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all: —
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

….

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (1915)

The endless cycle of idea and action,
Endless invention, endless experiment,
Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of The Word.
All our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance,
All our ignorance brings us nearer to death,
But nearness to death no nearer to God.
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of Heaven in twenty centuries
Brings us farther from God and nearer to the Dust.

— Choruses from The Rock (1934)

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Visual: Nighthawks (1942) by Edward Hopper. CLICK HERE FOR MORE EDWARD HOPPER.

Stream of Easter Consciousness

stained-glass-2a2 So students are sent back to school this week, just in time for Easter. Nobody wants to have a holiday right on Easter week, especially the public school board. That’s how you survive, by being politically correct. And the last two weeks’ holiday is called Spring Break of course. Easter has almost become a banned word, like Christmas. Who wants to be rude and offend others, we’re Canadians after all.

I know, it’s not totally a taboo yet. It’s a much tamer word, Easter, than Christmas, just because it doesn’t have the six-lettered word in it. You can curse with that name, but no, God forbid you should say it in a proper context. I can see you sneer, what’s a proper context, you ask. You’re right of course, no word or context is more proper than others, we’re egalitarians after all. As for Easter, as long as it’s synonymous with eggs and bunnies, pastels and flowers then it’ll never die. Who needs resurrections?

All Fridays are good. They even have a whole restaurant chain commemorating the day. What’s it called… yes, T.G.I. Friday’s. Who says we’re not religious, we thank God for happy hours. We’re much more open-minded now, more civilized, equal and fair, don’t want to pick one day to be better than the others. But definitely we won’t forget Ramadan, or the Chinese New Year.

There’s probably no God, so stop worrying and enjoy your life, the sign on the bus says. So we’re safe? Whew! No God means we can now be happy, worry free, all life, no death, … Umm just let me figure this one out. Give me a minute, I’m just not as smart as them.

Jesus wept. He wept at the graveside of Lazarus, brother of his dear friends Martha and Mary. He wept at the fragility of life. He wept at the searing pain of separation. He wept at the hopeless and uncomprehending expression on Mary’s face, even after he said to her I am the resurrection and the life.

Fleming Rutledge said more than ten years ago: “I am deeply convicted, more so each year, of the profound sinfulness of the human race. Yet because of the Cross and Resurrection of Jesus Christ — because of that and nothing else, because of that and nothing less — I am also convicted of the truth of what the Bible tells us about God’s plan of salvation. The rainbow bridge does not lead to Valhalla, where the gods quarrel so much that they destroy themselves. The rainbow bridge leads to the Cross and to the empty tomb on Easter Day.”

Utterly politically incorrect! Who uses the word sin anymore? Who’s Fleming Rutledge, anyway. Never heard of him. No? It’s a she? No wonder.

Now these words echo loud and clear too, written by T. S. Eliot in… what, 1934? Aren’t they a bit archaic now? Or, maybe they’re really prophetic:

Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of Heaven in twenty centuries
Bring us farther from God and nearer to the Dust.

We should go on living, be happy and worry-free, the sign on the bus says.

So we go on living…

and Jesus still weeps.

stained-glass-41

*****

The Merchant Ivory Dialogues

Re-watching The White Countess (2005) has prompted me to savor other Merchant Ivory films . I love their sumptuous period set design, stunning cinematography and exceptional acting. Some of them have garnered Oscar accolades, and since become classics, creating a genre of their own.

Long before Bollywood and Slumdog Millionaire, there was Ismail Merchant, born in Mumbai (formerly Bombay), India, in 1936. He later went to New York to further his education, and started making movies in 1960. On his way to the Cannes Film Festival in 1961 representing the U.S. with his nominated short, he met American director James Ivory. The two formed a production company that same year, and the rest is history.

Before producer Ismail Merchant passed away in 2005, the Merchant Ivory Productions had created timeless masterpieces, most notably, adaptations from the work of E. M. Forster, Henry James, and Kazuo Ishiguro. Together with German/Polish screenwriter Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, they have turned literary satires and portrayal of class-conscious Edwardian and Victorian English society into accessible popular movies, interpreting the humor and wit with a mark of their own. Ironically, none of the three are English. Maybe it does take an outsider to see clearly. A short list of their impressive productions includes A Room With A View (1985), Howards End (1992), The Remains of the Day (1993), and The Golden Bowl (2000).

james-ruth-and-ismail

But here in this post, I must present to you The Merchant Ivory Dialogues. Oh that’s not how it’s titled. But Arti just named it so. In the 2005 Criterion Merchant Ivory Collection DVD of Howards End (1992, 9 Oscar nominations, 3 wins) I found in the Special Features this amusing interview with producer Ismail Merchant and director James Ivory. The conversation between the two are so whimsical that they could almost form a comedic duo.

howards-end

Here are some excerpts:

On the idea of creating Howards End the movie:

M: Howards End started with Ruth (screenwriter) telling me and I think gave Jim the novel to read.

I: Well hold on. I’d read it.

M: Oh, You’ve read it. I see.

I: I’d read it in fact twice. Ruth always sort of not exactly dangled the book in front of us after A Room with a View and Maurice. But she saw it as a really ambitious, and to her would be most, most rewarding project for us and for her.

M: Anyway, it was slow going for me.

***

On Jim Ivory’s favorite scene

I: For me … from the first time, if I remember anything about it, except this scene where Margaret jumps out of the car when they run over a cat. Charles Wilcox doesn’t want to go back and a little girl runs into the road and starts crying and Margaret leaps out of the car…

M: We had to go to this incredible preparation, real cat and the artificial cat and the dead cat…

I: There’s no real cat.

M: And so I said no I don’t want to do it, you know. But he insisted because it was his favorite scene, and it is not in the film. So you should listen to the producer first.

I: That’s all I can really remember about the book the first time I read it was that scene, which I thought is incredibly dramatic…

M: That’s your favorite scene which is not in the film.

I: Which we shot and cut out of the film. Anyway…

***

On Forster the Social Critic:

M: Howards End is about the class system, and what Forster said about the inheritance of England. This beautiful house, a metaphor for England, will be inherited by the lower class. That is what happens here. This beautiful house is inherited by the clerk’s illegitimate son. Well anyway, this is an interpretation of mine.

I: I don’t think Forster had all that great love for the working classes …

M: Not love for the working class but…

I (voice covering M): He had an ideal, which was, people should be able to mingle from whatever their background, whatever their class, they all ought to be able to in a civilized and happy world. And in the good England everyone ought to be able to mix together if only the different kinds and types of people could make a connection. Then it would be for the betterment of all.

***

On American Funding (or the lack of)

M: Howards End was an ambitious film at that time, eight million dollars, the budget. We could not get eight million dollars from anybody, you know, it’s just not possible because Americans never saw the possibility of this film being successful as they never see anything of consequence or civilized film to be successful. They have blinkers on their eyes, they never see anything beyond, you know, the form …

I (moving about in his seat, almost rolling his eyes): All Americans?

M: All Americans

I (raises his eyebrows just enough to show his disagreement): All Americans.

M: All American film companies… with the exception… there are some sensible people like Sony Classics, they were at that time with Orion pictures….they were very excited but they only gave us a very small sum of money…of course, their enthusiasm and support were greatly appreciated but we had to raise 85% of the money outside…

***

emma-thompson-vanessa-redgrave

On Getting Vanessa Redgrave on Board

I: And then there was the casting of Vanessa Redgrave, who all along, from the very beginning I had wanted in that part. I thought she was the actress to play the first Mrs. Wilcox. And we kept sending her scripts, and this is the way it’s always is with Vanessa… You’re not sure she’s got the script, you’re not quite sure she’s read it, whether she likes it, whether she’ll do it…

M: I’ll tell you the story. Jim’s heart was set on Vanessa, and so was mine. So we sent this script and then we went to tea at Waldorf Hotel. And so we were sitting there and she said she had four, five months all planned… and the money you offer is not enough. So I said what would you like. She said if you could double that amount, I would do it. So I said ok, that’s it, you said it, now it’s double your salary. She couldn’t believe it was instantly, spontaneously done, because knowing that we had a small budget and we had to struggle for every penny. This was like giving whatever you want.

I: A very bad precedent.

M: Sorry?

I: A very bad precedent.

M: No it’s not a bad precedent at all. And for her I would do anything, you know. If she said get me the moon, I would get the moon for her. And it’s not possible for people to get the moon, but I would do it.

***

Ah… the creative process, the self and the collaboration, the art and the business, the part and the whole… just fascinating.

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Photos: James Ivory, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, and Ismail Merchant received BAFTA Fellowship Award (2002) news.bbc.co.uk; Emma Thompson and Vanessa Redgrave in Howards End, toutlecine.com

The Savages (2007, DVD)

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After my last post I had to take some time to withdraw. That’s when solitude can work as a soothing balm, allowing the personal space for reflection. Whether sudden or expected, young or old, death affects us all. And some strike a deeper chord.

A couple of days ago I got hold of The Savages on DVD. I thought I was late in watching this highly acclaimed indie film, and writing a review two years after its release. But watching it, I was surprised by the coincidence; for alas, it’s about death and aging. It’s ever timely now. I wouldn’t have appreciated it as much if I’d seen it then. For now, I’ve the first-hand experience of caring for two aging parents, and with my mother being in the early stage of Alzheimer. Two years ago I would not have imagined this scenario. But as those who have cared for the old can attest, two months can make a lot of difference.

As baby boomers begin to pass the turnstile into midlife, they now have to face the hard fact about their parents, and preparing for the ultimate to befall. Herein lies the story of The Savages.

Wendy Savage (Laura Linney, Best Actress Emmy for John Adams, 2008; Love Actually, 2003) and her brother Jon (Philip Seymour Hoffman, Oscar Best Actor for Capote, 2005) live miles apart. Their childhood home had been dysfunctional. Their mother left them when they were still young, their father was neglectful and abusive. Now as adults, they both have trouble committing to intimate relationships. Jon teaches theater at the University of Buffalo, while Wendy is a struggling playwright, working as a temp to make ends meet in NYC. Living apart from each other and their father, both strive to carve out some sort of meaningful existence with their life. Now they are brought back together by the tie of responsibility, reluctantly, in the caring for their ailing father (Philip Bosco). An old man who is afflicted with Parkinson’s related dementia, Lenny Savage is still fiery and intimidating.

Among the acclaims the film has garnered (AFI movie of the year, Golden Globes, Independent Spirit Awards…) are two Oscar nominations, one for Laura Linney for Best Actress, the other for Tamara Jenkins’s Original Screenplay. Both deserve the recognition hands down. Unlike Sarah Polley’s impressive film Away From Her (2006) with Julie Christie as an Alzheimer stricken wife, The Savages looks at dementia and death from the point of view of the son and daughter, and delicately explores their conflicting emotions of having to care for an estranged father. The rebuilding of sibling relationship has also proven to be difficult, yet through the process, both find the experience to be worthwhile.

The Savages is classified as a comedy. The script is smart and funny. But it is dark and deadpan humor that marks its appeal. The reality of human failings is handled with care and sensitivity. Linney, Hoffman, and Bosco form a dynamic trio in portraying the tension of love hate emotions among family members. Despite the past failings of their father and their present perplexities of how best to care for him, the siblings know where their duty lies. Screenwriter and director Tamara Jenkins has effectively explored the issues without sentimentality and imbued humor at the appropriate moments. As with all of life’s predicaments, a little dash of humor can offer the most direct perspective into our shared humanity.

The special features offer insights into the making of the film and into the mind of the screenwriter and director Tamara Jenkins. Of all the subject matters, she chose the caring of our aging parents. I’ve appreciated her intent: “The idea was to make you realize that you’re not alone, that you’re part of the human race, that we’re all going through this together.” She’s done a great job in doing just that.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

(photo source: mtv.com)

Natasha Richardson: Nell and The White Countess

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I’m shocked and saddened to learn of Natasha Richardson’s sudden passing. I followed the news all day yesterday. She had a minor fall on a beginners ski slope at the Quebec resort Mont Tremblant not far from Montreal while vacationing with her sons Michael and Daniel. It turned out that she had sustained a serious head injury which was not noticeable at first. But an hour later she started to have headaches and rapidly deteriorated. She was rushed to Montreal’s Sacré-Coeur hospital and later transported to NYC Lenox Hill Hospital. Her husband Liam Neeson (Taken, 2008, Schindler’s List, 1993) flew to Montreal to be with her from his Toronto set of Atom Egoyan’s Chloe, and had not left her side.

Natasha Richardson was a shining actor on the London stage and on Broadway, winning a Tony Award in 1998 for her lead role as Sally Bowles in the revival of the musical ‘Cabaret’, directed by Sam Mendes (Revolutionary Road, 2008 ). Acting was in her genes as she was privileged to be born into a family of astounding theatre talents, her grandfather being Sir Michael Redgrave, one of England’s finest tragedians according to The New York Times, her mother Vanessa Redgrave (Oscar Best Actress, Julia, 1977; Howards End, 1992, Atonement, 2007), her father the director/producer Tony Richardson, her sister Joely Richardson (Nip/Tuck). Natasha Richardson died March 18, 2009. She was only 45.

The highly acclaimed actress had left an impressive body of work from Shakespeare to the silver screen. Her long filmography spans from comedies like The Parent Trap (1998) to the futuristic fable by Margaret Atwood The Handmaid’s Tale (1990). One of her earlier film is A Month in the Country (1987) with Colin Firth and Kenneth Branagh. But these two are most memorable to me: Nell (1994) and The White Countess (2005).

NELL (1994)

nell1 Natasha Richardson met Liam Neeson on the set, and married him that year. Jodie Foster is Nell, who grows up in the wild forest of N. Carolina, far away from human civilization. She knows no language, well, none that other human can understand. The only two people she has seen are her mother and her twin sister, whom she communicates with a language of their own. After they die, Nell is left alone to deal with her loss and survival, until one day, she is discovered by Dr. Jerome Lovell (Liam Neeson) and Dr. Paula Olson (Natasha Richardson). From an initial academic interest, Lovell has grown to appreciate Nell as a person, and wants to bring her back to human society. While both doctors have good intentions, others do not. Herein lie the conflicts in the plot, the wild child versus the modern world, the experimental object versus the human being. All three main characters put forth an impressive performance. If you can still get hold of the DVD, now may be the poignant time to reminisce.

THE WHITE COUNTESS (2005)

the-white-countess A lesser known film by Natasha Richardson, The White Countess (2005) is a Merchant Ivory production (Merchant’s last film), its screenplay by the talented writer Kazuo Ishiguro (The Remains of the Day). The story takes place in the exotic setting of Shanghai, China, shortly before WWII. Slightly resembling Casablanca (1942), the movie excels in its mood and atmosphere. Ralph Fiennes is Todd Jackson, a blind, former American diplomat who meets a Russian refugee Sofia (Natasha Richardson) in a night club. Sofia belongs to a family of nobility, a White Russian countess herself, but now has to work in the lowliest line to support her family. The Japanese invasion sets the stage for suspense, and the plot thickens. Vanessa Redgrave plays Sofia’s aunt, and has delivered some moving moments performing with her daughter. Natasha’s aunt Lynn Redgrave is also in the movie. Now those scenes are ever more memorable. The behind-the-scenes interviews with the three of them, together with Ralph Fiennes, commentary with Natasha Richardson and director James Ivory in the Special Features are just priceless now. I purchased the DVD a while back, and have seen it several times. I know I’ll treasure it even more now.

*****

Photo Sources:

Natasha Richardson: mirror.co.uk, Nell: Amazon.com, The White Countess: cbc.ca

The Reader: Book Into Film

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The Reader is the highly acclaimed novel by German writer Bernhard Schlink. It was first published in 1995 in Europe and the English translation came out two years later. Anthony Minghella (Cold Mountain, 2003) was said to be the original director of the film adaptation, with his friend Sydney Pollack (Sketches of Frank Gehry, 2005) producing. Their untimely death sadly altered the scene somewhat, even though they were still named as producers when the Awards Season arrived. Thus the poignant acknowledgement from Kate Winslet as she received her Oscar Best Actress Award.

Selected as a New York Times Notable Book and a Los Angeles Times Book of the Year, the novel’s 218 pages are packed densely with poignant images and thought-provoking moral questions. The first part takes place in the 1950’s. 15 year-old Michael Berg gets sick on his way home from school and is helped by a woman, Hanna Schmitz. Thus sparks the sexual encounter and later love affair between the two. Every time they meet, Hanna makes sure Michael reads to her literature from Homer to Chekhov.

After a while, Hanna disappears, and not until Michael becomes a law student does he see her again, this time in a post-war trial of Nazi criminals. Hanna turns out to be a guard at a concentration camp during the Holocaust. As Michael is awash by torrents of conflicting emotions while watching the trial, he is aghast at a personal secret Hanna refuses to reveal, one which could have saved her from a lengthy prison term. Her only statement of defence is wrapped in one sentence: “What would you have done?” She asked the judge.

The last part of the book is in the present day. Michael, now a lawyer, is still haunted by his past and the residual emotional ambivalence upon the release of Hanna from prison. The story wraps up with a heart-wrenching ending.

Hidden behind the romantic facade is a story that deals with a deeply complex set of moral issues; the love affair between a 30 some year-old woman and a 15 year-old boy is only the initial spark. This is not a Holocaust novel, but rather, an incisive depiction of psychological dilemma confronting a new, post-war generation in Germany. The moral burden that Michael faces is heavy, seemingly unresolvable and yet born by the collective psyche:

“I wanted simultaneously to understand Hanna’s crime and to condemn it… When I tried to understand it, I had the feeling I was failing to condemn it as it must be condemned. When I condemned it as it must be condemned, there was no room for understanding… it was impossible to do both.”

I read the book a while back but have delayed seeing the movie, directed by Stephen Daldry and screenplay by David Hare (both of The Hours, 2002). First off, I could imagine the film, having the advantage of transporting the literary into visual realism, can go all out gratuitously to depict the love affair between Michael and Hanna. Further, the very complex moral issues the book deals with would be a challenge to transfer into film, making it less effective and maybe even trivializing the crux of the matter.

Well, I was both right and wrong. The first part of the movie depicting the seduction of Michael (18 year-old David Kross) by Hanna (Kate Winslet) and which gradually grows into a full-fledged love affair does carry some gratuitous erotic sequences. However, having watched the movie I have also come to appreciate the necessity of this relationship. The love affair between Michael and Hanna is the very analogy of a younger generation having had to deal with the conflicting emotions of loving their own parents, many of whom were involved in the atrocities of the Nazi regime.

Both Winslet and Kross have delivered a most affective cinematic rendering of an otherwise despicable affair. Winslet has brought out an exceptional performance, from a simple and passionate young woman to a grey-haired, seemingly amoral and yet deeply tormented prisoner. The irony of the movie is that, by crafting a visually appealing cinematic offering, it has won over its viewers’ heart (especially Winslet fans), resulting in a much more sympathetic rendition of someone who has a hand in the death of hundreds of Jews under her guard.

Likewise, the portrayal of the older Michael (Ralph Fiennes) is less effective than it deserves. Maybe due to his limited scenes, it appears that Fiennes lacks the time to dwell himself fully in the character to elicit the spectrum of conflicting emotions. It may also be the weaker script, compared to the book, that has shrouded some critical issues with ambiguity.

But I did appreciate the scene where a distressed Michael consults with his professor (Bruno Ganz), who distinguishes between law and morality. The law has nothing to do with right or wrong, he tells Michael. What’s legal doesn’t make it right. Implication follows that duty and legality do not excuse wrongdoings. While the law regulates the behavior, it is morality that constrains the heart.

While the movie is appealing visually and offers some riveting performance, I urge viewers to be the reader. That’s what I did, re-read the book as soon as I got home, and appreciated the written words even more.

Book and Movie

~ ~ ~ Ripples

The Reader by Bernhard Schlink, translated by Carol Brown Janeway, published by Vintage International, 2008, 218 pages.

Photo Source: usatoday.com

****

No Texting for Lent and The End of Solitude

Roman Catholic Bishops in Italy have added some contemporary relevance in the fasting tradition during Lent: High Tech Fast. The faithful are urged to free themselves from the bondage of technology and gadgets, and refrain from surfing, emailing, twittering, texting … in order to prepare themselves for Easter. This could prove to be a penance much harder to practice than not eating meat, even just on Fridays, for texting could well be the newest form of addiction today.

At about the same time, I heard an interview on the CBC Radio program Spark. Host Nora Young conducted an interview with William Deresiewicz, literary critic and essayist, who has recently written an article entitled ‘The End of Solitude’.

Deresiewicz taught at Yale from 1998 to 2008. When he asked his students what place solitude had in their lives, he got this reply: “Why would anyone want to be alone?”

With the ubiquitous use of high tech gadgets, and the torrents of Internet social networks around us, we are caught in a web of connectivity like never before:

Not long ago, it was easy to feel lonely. Now, it is impossible to be alone.

Not only that, the goal now seems to be to gain as much self-exposure as possible, to be visible. It seems that the number of friends we have on Facebook, and the number of hits on our blog directly leads to our self-esteem and our quality of self. The irony is, the pseudo and the virtual are substituting the genuine and the authentic.

What does friendship mean when you have 532 “friends”? How does it enhance my sense of closeness when my Facebook News Feed tells me that Sally Smith (whom I haven’t seen since high school, and wasn’t all that friendly with even then) ‘is making coffee and staring off into space’?

Deresiewicz notes that solitude used to be a desirable social value. From religious sages to the Romantics like Wordsworth, solitude is the channel one hears the still, small voice of God, or heed the beckoning of Nature. As modernism crept in, the literati turned inward to find validation of self, like Woolf, Joyce, Proust.

Then came urbanization and suburbanization. The generation that used to vegetate in front of the TV has given way to the child of the Internet, the networked self. And we no longer believe in the solitary mind.

So what does it matter when we have lost the moments to be alone? What have we lost?

First, the propensity for introspection, that examination of the self that the Puritans, and the Romantics, and the modernists (and Socrates, for that matter) placed at the center of spiritual life — of wisdom, of conduct.

Also, the urge to be instantly connected has bred a new generation of skippers and skimmers, replacing readers.

… five minutes on the same Web page is considered an eternity

No wonder we’re told to keep our blog posts short if we want to attract readership.

With the loss of the capacity for solitude, we’ve lost the ability to cultivate depth of self and create independent thinking. Emerson said that “Solitude is to genius the stern friend.” Deresiewicz goes on to say:

…no real excellence, personal or social, artistic, philosophical, scientific or moral, can arise without solitude.

The irony is, the more we are connected with the virtual world out there, the less we are connected with ourselves inwardly. But this is what’s valued nowadays, isn’t it, to be open, sociable, gregarious. But to maintain a sense of authentic self, we may have to sacrifice popularity, to be not so polite:

Thoreau understood that securing one’s self-possession was worth a few wounded feelings. He may have put his neighbors off, but at least he was sure of himself.

Those who would find solitude must not be afraid to stand alone.

Maybe this is one meaningful connection we should strive for: solitude, introspection, slow blogging, quality thinking, quality reading, quality writing, quality self.

****

Click here to listen to the full interview.

Click here to read the article ‘The End of Solitude’ by William Deresiewicz.

Click here to read my review of Sherry Turkle’s Alone Together

Click here to read my post on Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own in which she explored the privilege of Solitude.