Ripple Effects

Motherhood and Music

This just happened over the weekend…

It was your typical wedding banquet. The elegant ballroom, the thirty some round tables tastefully decorated, the introduction of the wedding party, the welcoming of out-of-town guests, the buffet, the clinking of glasses…

All the usual stuff at your usual wedding celebration…until…the mother of the groom played Tchaikovsky at the piano.

As a promising, award-winning pianist in the then North Vietnam years back, her talent and future were stifled under the harsh political climate. Thanks to the sponsorship of a Canadian church, the family immigrated to Canada, starting a new life in freedom.

Not long after that, a tragic work-related accident claimed the life of the father. The mother continued to run the family business and raised her young children all by herself, instilling in them the love of music, while laying aside her own musical career…

Until, as a most moving gift of love, she practiced again for her son. On his wedding day, as the lights dimmed, she walked over to the grand piano in the banquet hall, and played with such depth of expression and poignancy, two selections from Tchaikovsky’s The Seasons, May: White Night, and June: Barcarolle. The 300 guests were silent, mesmerized, deeply moved…then the standing ovation.

The love of a mother, the power of music … what a wonderful way to bring up a child, what a remarkable beginning of a marriage.

***

Then She Found Me (2007)

Let me guess, movie making is as demanding and draining as child rearing…and, if you’re doing both together, well…kudos to you. Case in point, a gaunt and much thinner Helen Hunt. Well, maybe that was on purpose for her role. Anyway, after some intermittent hiatus since her second marriage in 2001 and the birth of her daughter in 2004, the Oscar winning actress (As Good As It Gets, 1997) comes out with a film that she co-writes, directs, and stars in. Then She Found Me shows that Hunt is alive and well, and that she certainly can multi-task.

As a directorial debut, Then She Found Me is a gem of a film. Based on the novel of the same name by Elinor Lipman, TSFM has been on the drawing board for a long ten years. To read NY Times’ Interview with Helen Hunt, Click Here. Hunt adapted the book into screenplay with Alice Arlen and Victor Levin throughout a few years’ period.

Dramedy is the word for this genre of film. The drama component of the movie spurs on some meaningful exploration: of motherhood, adoption, marriage, parenting, faith, and God… But it’s a comedy, first and foremost, and we’re rewarded by its remaining so. The movie is funny, smart, warm-hearted and entertaining…and best of all, we’re spared all the possible preachy sessions that could have come out from dealing with its subject matters.

Juggling motherhood and movie-making could have explained Hunt’s tired and thinner look. On screen, such an appearance is suitably in character, for she portrays a 39 year-old kindergarten teacher April Epner, newly married, and in a desperate rush to become pregnant before time runs out. As an adopted child, April is all the more longing for a baby of her own, thinking of the deeper relationship, bonding and meaning that can naturally come out from giving birth to and raising her own child as opposed to adopting one. To this view, her step-brother, the natural son of her Jewish adoptive mother responds, “No, it’s the same”.

Well, she soon finds out. Her excitement of finally getting pregnant is not shared by new husband Ben (Matthew Broderick). It is obvious that he is not eager to become a parent, or a husband, for that matter. Actually, this news comes to him after he feels that he has made a mistake in getting hitched for life, and has moved back to live with his mother. Sadly, Ben is still a boy, donning a baseball cap and expects everyone, especially his wife, to accept his Peter Pan confusion.

But that’s not all. Just after her husband has left her, April’s Jewish adoptive mother dies. And to top it all off, April encounters her birth mother Bernice (Bette Midler). Well to be exact, her mother has found her. But at this chaotic point in her life, April is ambivalent about coming face to face with her birth mother, especially one who is so brassy, imposing and self absorbed. Bernice is a local TV talk show host. After 39 years of absence, she suddenly decides she wants to find her daughter. But upon questioning by April why she had given her up after a short parenting gig, Bernice may have understood April’s ambivalence. And I like it when the film leaves the queries as queries… simple answers to questions like these are never easy to find.

Helen Hunt and Colin Firth

Confused and emotionally fragile, April finds new romance and support in Frank (Colin Firth), the recently divorced father of a student in her class. His artist wife has left him for another guy and at the moment, she’s travelling the world with him. Underneath Frank’s calm and affable demeanor is a very hurt, confused, and anguished man. If Colin Firth thinks he still has not shed his stereotyped Darcy image, this is the time to do it. His versatility as an actor just shines through in this conflicting character. Once bitten, twice shy. Frank is emotionally vulnerable, yet he also yearns to establish a meaningful and loving relationship with April. The intermingling of two fragile and affable characters is the springboard to some amusing and poignant moments.

As a first time director of a full length movie, Hunt has done a proficient job, despite some minor problems with pacing and congruence of scenes. Certain shots could have been shortened to maximize the intended humor while some scenes ought to be connected more smoothly. The audience may need to fill in the blanks at times. Having said that, I feel that my enjoyment is not tampered a bit. One note of caution though, the language is part of the reason it gets an R rating, and that might turn away some viewers.

Kudos should go to the admirable acting by Hunt herself, as well as Firth and Midler. Midler is effective as a self-serving intruder at first, yet is sensitive enough to change, especially as she empathizes with April’s anxiety … learning to be a mother after all these years. And I must mention Salman Rushdie, yes, the Salman Rushdie, who plays a supportive role as the obstetrician. He has effectively sprinkled in some subtle humor.

Further, I admire Hunt for not shying away from the problem of faith, loss, and God. The plot lends itself naturally to the exploration of these complex issues, and Hunt has boldly dealt with them directly. The religious expressions and prayers uttered might be in Hebrew, but the yearning, and the angst, is poignantly human and universal.

Well, Mother’s Day has come and gone, but motherhood lasts a lifetime. As a devoted single-parent to his children, Frank in the movie has demonstrated that the marriage vow “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health” can aptly apply to parenting. And for all mothers, birth, adoptive, as well as those like Frank, who has to bear the responsibilities as one, it is in the nitty gritty of everyday realities that motherhood, or parenthood for that matter, finds its meaning and fulfillment.

(The indie film is currently being screened on limited engagement in North America. It’s rated R in the U.S. for language and sexual content. In Canada, it’s rated from 14A to G, depending on the Province where it’s shown.)

To read my review of the book Then She Found Me, click here.

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Mansfield Park: Jane Austen the Contrarian

Mansfield Park is probably the most controversial and least favored of all six Austen novels. Drawing the issue of slavery into the limelight, post-colonialist critic Edward Said had certainly stirred up some ripples in alleging Austen’s acceptance of British imperialism with her mention of Sir Thomas Bertram’s Antigua plantation. [1] Susan Fraiman has aptly presented her rebuttal to Said’s argument, noting in particular Austen’s brilliant irony and metaphor upon deeper reading. [2] So here, I would just like to concentrate on Austen’s characterization, which I believe is more in line with her central purpose in Mansfield Park. That brings me to the other major controversy.

What makes a heroine?

Published after Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park presents a very different heroine from that of Austen’s previous success. Fanny Price is often measured against Elizabeth Bennet, consequently being looked upon as inferior. On the outset, Fanny is indeed everything Lizzy is not. First of all, she is physically fragile, easily succumbs to exhaustion and fainting spells, very unlike Lizzy who can take on extensive walks in the outdoors, happily treading through miles of muddy paths. No rosy cheeks from such exercise for Fanny. She may have grown into a fair lady at eighteen, but she does not have Lizzy’s athletic prowess, or her pair of fine eyes, the trademark of her exuberance.

Further, Fanny Price is painfully shy, an introvert. Readers may find her insipid, lacking glamour, but they may be more impatient with her passive, yielding personality. Why does Jane Austen present to us such a heroine, especially after the very lively and charismatic Lizzy Bennet? Well, I, for one, am glad to see Austen has demonstrated her wisdom by depicting an anti-stereotyped heroine. With Fanny Price, Austen has shattered the image of the typical heroine: a captivating beauty, quick witted and forthright, even audacious at times, endowed with energy and charisma. Why is reticence, or introvert nature being frowned upon? When did we start thinking of long-suffering and perseverance as negative traits? Why is humility not getting its rightful esteem? And, why are the quiet, observant and thinking female not as attractive as those who are more expressive, or who possess only outward beauty?

What Fanny lacks in physical vigor, she more than compensates with her inner strength. And it is in the nobility of character that Austen has chosen to depict her heroine. Underneath Fanny’s fragile appearance is a quiet and principled perseverance. Seeing the impropriety of staging a play which entails the remodelling of Sir Thomas’ very private library in his absence, Fanny stands firm in not participating, despite the pressures and insults from her older cousins, the persuasion from the Crawfords, the scornful criticisms from Mrs. Norris, and even the eventual yielding of Edmund himself.

In her ingenious manner with biting irony, Austen pits Fanny Price against her formidable foe, Mary Crawford. At first sight, “Mary Crawford was remarkably pretty.” Not long after that, Austen adds:

She had none of Fanny’s delicacy of taste, of mind, of feeling; she saw nature, inanimate nature, with little observation; her attention was all for men and women, her talents for the light and lively.

When it comes to moral uprightness, Mary Crawford is no match. Thanks to the way she defends her brother Henry who has snatched Maria away from her husband, even Edmund can now see clearly. Henry Crawford is a carnal schemer, and Mary Crawford is equally manipulative and egotistic. Unfortunately, it takes a scandal and trepidations for others to learn what Fanny has seen clearly from the very beginning.

In a way, Fanny Price is more lucid than Elizabeth Bennet in not succumbing to the lure of vanity with Henry Crawford’s superfluous praise and wooing. If only Elizabeth had conquered that soft spot regarding Wickham earlier on….but of course, there wouldn’t be any story then. And if it is admirably bold for Lizzy to resist Lady Catherine de Bourgh, someone who is of no relation to her, Fanny is all the more courageous in her refusing to marry Henry Crawford by standing up against the very guardian to whom she owes her upbringing and her present living, the patriarch Sir Thomas Bertram. It takes extraordinary fortitude to go against everyone in Mansfield Park, and follow her own heart, while the privilege to explain herself is infeasible.

Compared to other Austen heroines, Fanny Price is equally, if not more, worthy. Fanny has the passion of Marianne, while possessing the rationale of Elinor. That is why her secret love for Edmund can endure unfavorable conditions. Her lucid sense of judgement restrains her to reveal it to Edmund, who, with his emotional frailty, would be exasperated knowing his own beloved cousin is a rival rather than a friend of Mary Crawford. Her perseverance can easily match and surpass that of Anne Elliot. And, she may be uneducated and naive like Catherine Morland to start with, and is equally moldable and respectful when taught, she has way surpassed her mentor in insights and maturity as the story progresses.

By presenting a heroine who may not be a typical favorite, Austen seems to be writing contrary to conventional norms. (But is it just modern audience who have differed in their expectations, resulting in recent film adaptations altering the very spirit and essence of Austen’s characters to appeal to them?) Has Austen created a character so different from her other heroines? Comparing Mansfield Park with all her other novels, I do not feel she is particularly off her usual standpoint. As with her other heroines, Austen is more concerned with character, virtues, and morals, the inner qualities of the person rather than the outer appearance. Mansfield Park is the best manifestation of her stance. Ultimately, what shine through for our Austenian heroine are:

…the sweetness of her temper, the purity of her mind, and the excellence of her principles.

At the end, the steadfast and long-suffering Fanny Price triumphs. And for critics who assert that Austen had silently condoned slavery, the ending of Mansfield Park should silent them all, for it is the socially and economically disenfranchised and marginalized that is exalted and vindicated. In my view, Edmund does not deserve her. However, it is Fanny’s heart and long unrequited love that Austen attempts to satisfy. And I totally concur with that, for our heroine deserves it. And no, Fanny does not become mistress of Mansfield Park, which is also ideal: It is not affluence and materialism that win after all, but spiritual values and nobility of character that overcome, and they are their own rewards. The Parsonage is a most fitting place for both Edmund and Fanny to begin their life together.

Notes:

1. Said, Edward W. Culture and Imperialism. (Alfred A. Knopf, 1993). His chapter on Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park can be read in Dorothy Hale’s The Novel: An Anthology of Criticism and Theory 1900-2000. (Blackwell, 2005) pp. 691-715. You can read part of it online on Google Books by clicking here.

2. Fairman, Susan. Jane Austen and Edward Said: Gender, Culture, and Imperialism. Critical Inquiry, 21 (4), pp. 805-821.

To read my other JA posts, book reviews, movie and TV adaptations, and other related books, just click on ‘Jane Austen’ under categories on my sidebar.

Update: You can read this article as well as other interesting and informative articles on Jane and the Regency Period in the Jane Austen Centre Online Magazine by clicking here.

And When Did You Last See Your Father? Book Review

when-did-you-last-see-your-father-book-cover2 I saw the movie When Did You Last See Your Father? at the Toronto International Film Festival last September, twice. I didn’t have the chance to read the book until a couple of days ago, about 7 months later. But as I read, all the scenes came back to me, and I appreciate the film even more than before. Yes, this is definitely a successful attempt at turning Book Into Film…and a hugely impressive one at that. The stellar cast with Jim Broadbent as the father and Colin Firth as the adult son, plus the exceptional supporting roles have brought out the spirit and the essence of the book poignantly, thanks to the very artistic and sensitive treatment by director Anand Tucker. To read my review of the movie, click here.

Blake Morrison is a contemporary British poet and writer. He was literary editor of The Observer and the Independent on Sunday before writing full time in 1995. AWDYLSYF is a memoir of his relationship with his father, Arthur Morrison, who died of cancer at age 75. Published in 1993, the book has won literary awards, and has been translated into many languages, from Japanese to Syrian.

The name of the book has its source in a painting of the same title by the Victorian artist W. F. Yeames. Yeames depicted an imaginary scene during the English Civil War. The young son of a Cavalier (Royalist) was questioned publicly by the enemy, the Roundheads (Parliamentarian), as to the whereabouts of his father. The question posed a serious dilemma for the boy. If he answered truthfully, he would endanger his father. If not, he would be commiting the immoral act of lying. Click here to read the story behind the painting.

And Painting by W. F. Yeames, When Did You Last See Your Father

Such a dilemma finds a parallel in the book. And it is apparent that Morrison has chosen to do the former, for the story he tells is incredibly candid, up-close and personal. As a reader, I’m glad he has done that. Eulogies are sometimes euphemism honoring the dead in order to please the living. But what Morrison has delivered is a courageously honest narrative of a precarious father-son relationship marked by ambivalence and love-hate sentiments. I can sense the pain such exposure could bring to the people involved, his mother, his sister, close family and friends. But I feel Morrison has burst the romantic bubble of the naturally congenial relationships we assume as we look at other people’s family portraits, or see families depicted in movies and novels. Love does not come naturally because of the tie that binds. Respect still needs to be earned, and loving acts need to be learned, for both parent and child.

The 20 independent, short chapters darting back and forth across the landscape of memory record the poignant reminiscence of a son living under the shadow of a powerful father. Arthur Morrison was a revered doctor in the town of Earby, in the County of Yorkshire…revered because of his imposing, domineering and callous demeanor. He could always get his way, and get out of troubles. In his recalling of childhood episodes, son Blake has aptly intermingled humor with pathos, all the more bringing out the complexity of character, and the ambivalence we sometimes feel towards our loved ones. And to be fair, Arthur had cared for his family, albeit in his own patriarchal and egotistic manner.

He was gregarious. In all social situations, he was the one leading the conversation and successfully avoiding topics that he was ignorant about…and was sure to stay away from games like Trivial Pursuit.

He hates feeling fallible: ‘I may not be right but I’m never wrong’ is the motto on a horrible brass wall-plate he has. He isn’t a vain man, but he is a proud, even bumptious one, a man with a puffed chest who learnt to water-ski in his fifties and thought he could go on forever.

How can such a character be brought to face his own imminent demise? Blake Morrison describes his father’s fast deterioration after diagnosed with cancer. The preparation though seemed to be harder for those who were going to be left behind than the patient himself. There was a relationship that needed mending, and, there were truths to be revealed. For years, Morrison had suspected the intimate relationship between his father and Auntie Beaty, a family friend. It had affected his perspective on his father, and on himself as a son. But he wasn’t given such a privilege. Other people’s secrets are theirs to own, even though that person is your father. And the living won’t tell: “Please leave me one last small piece–it’s mine” Auntie Beaty pleaded.

So the pressing question is: How is a son to prepare for the imminent demise of his own father, having lived in such a precarious relationship? The revelation comes at the end of the book. Death and mortality has a way of helping us put things in perspective:

Don’t underestimate filial grief, don’t think because you no longer live with your parents, have had a difficult relationship with them, are grown up and perhaps a parent yourself, don’t think that will make it any easier when they die.

Faced with the finality of death, all grievances one has towards the dying seem minute in comparison. As a son now, Blake has to learn to let go of his father, ironically, a lesson his father had failed to learn in the raising of his own son. Grievances give way to caring, to the consoling of the living, to the respect of a life lived on its own terms, to forgiveness, to closure.

In his Afterword, Morrison writes:

When young, we were impatient with our parents: now we want to atone for our callowness, and to acknowledge what they were and all they did.

Poignant words for us to ponder.

And when did you last see your father? by Blake Morrison is published by Granta Books, London. 1993. 230 Pages.

A movie tie-in edition by Granta Books is published October 2007.
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The Ripple Rating System

At long last, a clarification on the Ripple Rating System.

First, some FAQ.

Q: Why do the movies you review on your blog mostly get 3 Ripples, only a few 2.5 Ripples, and very few 4 Ripples?

A: I love films, but my time is also precious. So I usually pick those which I think I’ll enjoy, or which I’m curious about before I go see them. I’m a selective movie goer, as most people are. The same is true for readers picking which books they’ll read, or music lovers which song to buy…The ratings reflect whether I’ve made the right choice, in a way. So far, I haven’t come across many that compel me to give 4 Ripples… but there are a few…

Q: How do you know which movies you’ll enjoy?

A: I read about them, know the background first…sometimes, I go to the source material and read the book on which a movie is based. I particualrly like to do this because I’m interested in the process of turning Book Into Film … Other times, I go to see the movie first, and then read the book if I am particularly moved.

Of course, the Ripples reflect personal resonances. Nevertheless, they are given after considerable critical analysis and evaluation, and hopefully do not come out as mere impulse. They might stir up ripples among my readers too, and that’s what the comment box is for.

I like NY Times movie critic A. O. Scott’s statement in his introduction to the book The New York Times Guide to the Best 1,000 Movies Ever Made:

” This collection is more likely to start arguments than to settle them, argument being one of the solemn duties of criticism and, more importantly, one of the great pleasures of movie-going.”

You are welcome to express your opinion. But please comment in a way that shows your respect for other readers and yourself.

So here it is, Arti’s Ripple Rating System explained:

~ Ripple = Stay away, I did

~ ~ Ripples = Manage your time better

~ ~ ½ Ripples = Average, Okay

~ ~ ~ Ripples = Good, worth seeing

~ ~ ~ ½ Ripples = Superior, must-see

~ ~ ~ ~ Ripples = Almost Perfect

Smart People (2008)

Smart people is about ordinary people. But unlike the movie Ordinary People, it doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s also about dysfunctional families, but then again, a look around us can testify that the term “dysfunctional’ has more or less become a cliché, or the norm even. So, the story line and characters in Smart People may well be the story about many of us. We can relate to their situations, or maybe know someone that’s in similar predicament, smart or dumb.

Smart People

The title is an apparent sarcasm. Coincidentally, in my last post I wrote a review on A Room With A View (2007)…imagine the highly-educated but socially inapt Cecil Vyse now a modern day academic, 30 years older, scruffy, paunchy, and ever grumpier… that’s the main character in this movie, professor Lawrence Wetherhold, vividly portrayed by Dennis Quaid. Wetherhold teaches at Carnegie Mellon University, an expert in Victorian literature. Like Cecil Vyse, he is smart with ideas, but utterly unfit for human relationships. Or, maybe a more accurate way of looking at it is, he has given up being a nice person. He’s self-absorbed, overbearing, and maybe himself a victim too, let us not judge so harshly, for he is a widower drenched in self-pity, who leaves his wife’s whole wardrobe untouched some years after her passing.

Living with such a character is his teen-aged daughter Vanessa, played by Ellen Page. Repeating her impressive performance as in Juno, Page portrays an over-achieving high school senior, who aims at nothing less than a perfect SAT score. Little does she know that underneath her pragmatic and vigorous academic pursuit and Republican stance are her youthful curiosity and desires. So, when Chuck (Thomas Haden Church), the wayward adopted brother of her father’s veers into their lives, she is whirled into a pool of confusion. Adding to the complexity of the family relationship is Vanessa’s older brother James (Ashton Holmes), who aspires to be a poet but his Dad doesn’t even know it. James lives on campus where Wetherhold teaches. Despite the physical proximity, father and son could never be more alienated and distanced.

Thomas Haden Church and Ellen Page

All of their lives begin to take a turn when Wetherhold’s car is impounded for illegal parking and he tries to climb over a fence to retrieve his brief case in the car. His toneless middle-aged physique is no match for the 10-foot wire fence, and so he ends up in the ER with a ‘trauma induced seizure’ after he falls over. That’s where he meets Dr. Janet Hartigan (Sarah Jessica Parker). A former student of his, Janet had a crush on him while a student, but due to his harsh marking and pompous air, decided to change her major from literature to biology. Now years later, Janet has the chance to forge a real and meaningful relationship with Wetherfold, a task she soon finds to be too formidable and senseless for anyone in her right mind.

Dennis Quaid and Sarah Jessica Parker

But isn’t it true…we’re matched up with impossible people at work, deal with obnoxious clients whom we have to serve, live with incompatible housemates, and stuck with eccentric and embarrassing family members… Smart People’s smart screenplay offers us the chance to laugh at ourselves, and empathize with other’s deficiencies and shortfalls. By learning to put up with them, we might just be learning to live with ourselves. And in the process, as the movie happily winds up, the characters gain a new perspective on themselves and come out as changed persons.

Screened at Sundance earlier this year, the film is teamed up by the relatively new screen writer Mark Poirier and director Noam Murro. It is rated R in the U. S. and 14A in Canada. Certain scenes may be objectionable to some. But with watching any movie or reading literature, for that matter, they have to be taken in context, and the overall spirit considered.

And, for those looking for smart aleck humor, or fast-paced sequences and an intriguing plot are bound to be disappointed. However, I have precisely appreciated (Professor Wetherhold would be quick to correct me, it should be “appreciated precisely” he’d say) the slower paced story lines that are well-developed along the main characters. The witty dialogues and superb acting from the stellar cast are enjoyable and engaging. A delightful 95 minutes of quiet and intelligent entertainment.

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A Room With A View (2007 TV)

It will probably take another Merchant Ivory production to best an earlier version. The 1985 movie A Room With A View has ingrained in my memory certain images of sight and sound that are difficult to replace, like Lucy opening the window and the camera slowly zooms in the beautiful view of Florence, highlighting the Il Duomo. Or the ending shot of the silhouettes of Lucy and George sitting by the same window… To me, A Room With A View is Kiri Te Kanawa singing Puccini’s aria “O mio babbino caro” (O My Beloved Father), achingly depicting the agony of unrequited love. Further, it is also the humor that underlies the whole story as Forster has intended, as evidenced by the chapter (or scene) titles.

Nevertheless, I came to watch this newest BBC production with an open mind. I was eager to see how a 21st Century, Andrew Davis rendition would present this E. M. Forster love story. Every new adaptation of an old classic should offer us a new vision. With such endeavors Andrew Davis has proven to be relatively successful in the past with his Austen and Dickens adaptations. Here, I anticipate another window opening out to a fresh and different view.

For this adaptation, Davis writes the screenplay as Lucy’s flashback. And, letting his imagination roam, he has Lucy coming back to the same Florentine room in The Bertolini, by herself, as a young widow. So with this in mind, the overall sepia tone throughout fits well with the context, a memory re-lived, through the eyes of a lonely young woman who has lost her husband in the war. The colorless overtone might well depict the sombre mood of a very different Lucy.

But there’s the rub. With this new “twist”, Davis has put himself in a difficult position in that, the present might be sombre and sad, but the past is most vibrant and radiant. He’s got in his hands the difficult task of reconciling the two. What mood should he establish? The sombre loss of the present or the fantastic journey of self-discovery and the ecstasy of a young heart heeding true love of the past? umm…alright, let’s just go on with the show…

I have appreciated the fine cinematography and camerawork. The attraction of the Florentine art and architecture as well as Rome’s grandeur are caught with a sense of depth, not just picturesque shots, ironically, thanks to the lack of color. They are frames from Lucy’s point of view, a well-protected, English young woman’s first encounter with greatness and history outside of her familiar, parochial life.

As for the actors, I have mixed feelings. In the 1985 movie, Helena Bonham-Carter’s fresh persona of Lucy Honeychurch is sensitively matched by Julian Sand’s poised portrayal of George Emerson, an ideal image of young love. Somehow, I don’t feel the chemistry here between Elaine Cassidy (When Did You Last See Your Father, 2007) and Rafe Spall. The film is supported by some excellent acting though by veterans like Sophie Thompson (Emma, 1996) as Charlotte Bartlett, Mark Williams (Sense and Sensibility 2008 TV) as Mr. Beebe, Sinead Cusack as Miss Lavish, and Timothy Spall (Enchanted, 2007) as the elder Emerson. Tim and Rafe Spall dispaly an authentic father son relationship on screen, naturally.

Timothy and Rafe Spall

A weak link I feel is Laurence Fox as Cecil Vyse. No, I’m not trying to compare him with Daniel Day Lewis’s performance, which is inimitable. But I truly feel it’s a miscast here. Fox as a chap who is no good for anything but books, one who is so physically inapt to avoid a game of tennis? Not very convincing. What we have in this TV version is more like an eerie and chain-smoking Wickham or Willoughby. Speaking of which, the smoke screen connecting to his almost every appearance may well be intentional, visually depicting how marred and distorted Cecil is in his view of himself and of others, particularly, Lucy.

Indeed, as the title well conveys, it is the metaphor of seeing that is the key notion throughout the TV adaptation. In order to impress into our mind, the director has us see lots of scenes by the window. But of course, it’s not so much of looking out but looking in that is crucial here. The whole story is built on Lucy’s seeing clearly what is in her heart, and that the one who has drawn her out of her own self-deception is the one who can offer her ultimate bliss, and that is George Emerson. It is not just about Cecil turning down a tennis match, but it is the last straw, the pivotal turning point where Lucy realizes how egotistic Cecil is. Lucy to him is but an object of art and music, but not as a woman, definitely not as a lover. Forster describes it most strikingly, “The scales fell from Lucy’s eyes.” A Biblical allusion no less than an epiphany.

In this case of course, by following her heart, Lucy is making the moral choice of defying the long tradition of the English class system, smashing the inequalities underneath the civility, and unmasking the snobbishness she has been raised to aspire to. In her new voice, as Cecil has noticed, Lucy has announced a new-found insight. As an admirer of Jane Austen along with his fellow Bloomsbury writer Virginia Woolf, Forster might have written lines that Elizabeth Bennet could have uttered, lines like:

I won’t be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult. Can’t I be trusted to face the truth but I must get it second-hand through you?

Or,

If a girl breaks off her engagement, every one says: ‘Oh, she had someone else in her mind;’ … It’s disgusting, brutal! As if a girl can’t break it off for the sake of freedom.

Unfortunately, these lines find no place in the film.

Forster is not afraid to let us see a very muddled Lucy, being confronted by her own feelings and passions that are contrary to her up-bringing, loving someone from a lower social status. The open view of Italy has offered her a wider spectrum to what she is accustomed to seeing. Here lies the muddled complexity of characterization…For often in life, we are walking confusion, unsure of our feelings, insecure about our actions, isn’t such muddledness the very commonality of our being human?

But thanks to her humility, Lucy comes to realize what is in her heart, and who she wants to be. In her recanting of her engagement to Cecil, she admits to be less educated, not as well-versed in the arts and music as Cecil. Maybe because of that, she is more flexible to explore and to associate with those allegedly seen as socially lower than herself. Here lies the paradox, It takes the uneducated eye to find understanding. Cecil is an intellectual, expert in things but not people, his highly educated mind has done nothing for him but left him in a room with no view.

Zadie Smith in her brilliant 2003 Orange Word Lecture entitled “Love, Actually”, discussed the writing of E. M. Forster and Jane Austen. Regarding Lucy’s gaining insight, Smith observed incisively:

It is not by knowing more that Lucy comes to understand, but by knowing considerably less.

As for Davis’ new “twist” at the end … I think that has altered the whole story from a light-hearted piece of social satire and endearing love story to a sombre drama with an awkward ending. And for the last scene, Lucy going on a picnic with the cab-driver, and their final gesture… I think Davis has gone too far with his gratuitous imagination. If that is the new vision he is offering us, I’d rather stick with the old view.

~ ~ Ripples

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Photo Source of window with a view: StudentsVille

Nim’s Island (2008)

I don’t want to miss any Jodie Foster movies. She’s one of my all time favorites. I’m also eager to watch Abigail Breslin again after her Little Miss Sunshine. Further, after reading Annie Dillard’s novel, I just need something light and mindless. Coincidentally, between these two, I only have to change lenses, for the view is more or less the same: the beauty and wonder of nature.

Nim’s Island is a mixture of Swiss Family Robinson, Home Alone, Stranger Than Fiction, and Mr. Brooks. Based on the popular children’s book of the same name by Wendy Orr, it’s about a girl called Nim who lives an idyllic life on a pristine island with her scientist dad Jack. The island’s rich natural resources and wildlife are the sources of Jack’s research and Nim’s pleasure. Her friends are Selkie the sea lion, Fred the iguana, Galileo the frigate bird, and the giant sea turtle…what’s his name? … Anyway, it’s a zoo out there on Nim’s island, but Nim and Jack keep it real organized, educational, and fun.

One of Nim’s favorite past time is reading the stories of her adventure hero Alex Rover (Gerard Butler, P.S. I Love You, 2007). So, when a huge tropical storm hits the island, and her dad hasn’t come home for a few days collecting protozoa samples out in the open sea, she calls to Alex Rover for help. Actually, it is the creator of Alex Rover that emails Nim first, asking about information to write the next novel, mistakenly thinking Nim is Jack’s research assistant.

Far from being an adventure hero, Alexandra Rover, the author, is a recluse suffering from agoraphobia, whose best friend is her Purell hand sanitizer. She hasn’t been out of her San Francisco apartment for months. But knowing Nim is all alone on an island needing help, and prodded by her own adventure hero, she ventures out against her fears. So there’s the interesting set up of the plot, the rest of the story is the adventures of Alex Rover the writer heading to the island to help out Nim, the real heroine.

The film suffers from some scenes and dialogues that appear to be banal and trite. With its interesting storyline I think it can be done better with more creativity and imagination. Having said that, I must say that the movie is beautifully shot on location in Queensland, Australia. In a day and age when kids, and parents, for that matter, find it impossible to have fun outside of video games and electronic gadgets, this movie and the book can offer a wholesome alternative.

There is a new edition of the book that’s a movie tie-in, including 8 pages of color pictures from the film. It is illustrated whimsically by Kerry Millard. A fun read. And for all the budding biologists, zoologists, oceanographers, and for that matter, environmentalists in your home, this is a must-read.

The intended age group I feel should be a bit lower for both the movie and the book. I’d say a target audience and reader Age 6 – 10 would be more appropriate than the now 9 – 12.

The best combination: Go see the movie and then to the bookstore.

Now with that combination, I’ll have to give it

~ ~ ~ Ripples

The Maytrees by Annie Dillard: Book Review

To celebrate National Poetry Month, I am reviewing Annie Dillard’s novel The Maytrees. That’s right. For Annie Dillard, even her novel reads like poetry. Consider these lines:

“Behind his head, color spread up sky. In the act of diving, Orion, rigid, shoulder-first like a man falling, began to dissolve. Then even the zenith and western stars paled and gulls squawked.”

Toby Maytree came home to Provincetown, Cape Cod, after the Second World War and met Lou Bigelow. They soon fell in love and married, their lives bound by nature.

“His wife, Lou Maytree, rarely spoke. She painted a bit on canvas and linen now lost. They acted in only two small events–three, if love counts. Falling in love, like having a baby, rubs against the current of our lives: separation, loss, and death. That is the joy of them.”

Toby and Lou Maytree live a bohemian life. Toby works enough as a carpenter to support his real pleasure, poetry writing; Lou paints, rendering obsolete her MIT architecture degree.

“For a long time they owned no car, no television when that came in, no insurance, no savings. Once a week they heard world news on the radio. They supported striking coal miners’ families with cash. They loved their son, Pete, their only child. Between them they read about three hundred books a year. He read for facts, she for transport. Nothing about them was rich except their days swollen with time.”

Can life, or love, be any simpler for any married couple? Life in Cape Cod is idyllic for the Maytrees, and for a long while, time almost stood still. Until, a third person, their long-time mutual friend Deary, came between them. Anticipating the ambivalence of guilt and desire, Toby and Deary secretly plans a move away to Maine, leaving Lou to raise Pete alone in Provincetown.

“We bound ourselves to the fickle, changing, and dying as if they were rock.”

Dillard follows the Maytrees’ lives together, apart, and together again years later under very peculiar circumstances. She uses condensed and poetic language to describe the subtle beauty of love, the reality of human frailty, the numbing of separation, and the inevitability of death. Against the backdrop of nature, and a web of characters in the Maytrees’ lives, the author explores the power of forgiveness, the sharing of human responsibility, the acceptance of the human condition, and the preparation for death. Love can still triumph despite failings, and yet, she also queries, what exactly, is love.

For most of the novel, Dillard displays fully her expertise: meditative nature writing, her thoughts touching the realms of science, literature, anthropology, religion, and philosophy. I do not pretend that I fully comprehend all that Dillard writes. Eudora Welty in her 1974 New York Times review of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek admitted that: “I honestly do not know what she is talking about at such times.” Who am I to say I have understood all that Dillard has written here in The Maytrees. It may help if you are well-versed in Keats, Kafka, and Wittgenstein. But often it is in the language. Occassionally, her condensed language has left me cold and clueless. However, it is also her language that appeals to me. Amidst the ambiguity, I have appreciated the mesmerizing power of her poetic sense.

“Later he stood on the foredune’s lip and looked at the stars over the ocean. A wider life breathed in him, and things’ rims stirred and reared back. Only the lover sees what is real, he thought. Only the lover sees the beloved truly, inwardly. Far from being blind, love alone can see. Watching the sky now, and forever after, doubled his world. He felt he saw through Lou’s eyes as an Aztec priest, having flayed an enemy, donned the skin. Or somewhat less so.”

At the end, death wraps up a life and a narrative. Surprisingly, Dillard describes it in a prosaic and matter-of-fact manner. And yet, the images are vivid, and the humanity shines through. This is the genius of Annie Dillard. The Maytrees is a gem of a story; it gives and demands much. It may need some effort to plough through, but well worth the time. And like poetry, you would want to go back and savor it again.

The Maytrees by Annie Dillard. Harper Collins, 2007. 224 pages.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

Sense and Sensibility (2008 TV): Part 2

Even though the last kiss in the movie goes to Elinor and Edward, I feel this second part of Sense and Sensibility belongs to Marianne and Colonel Brandon. Indeed, David Morrissey’s Colonel Brandon has been the leading man and Charity Wakefield’s Marianne shines. Their lines even bring back some epic images of a past Austen adaptation. Just dwell on them again:

Marianne: My feelings for him has changed so much…I love him.

Elinor: Then I am happy for you.

Words of endearment reminiscent of Davis’ adaptation of Pride and Prejudice (1995)…flashback to Lizzy’s response to Darcy’s second proposal, and as she explains to her unbelieving father of her accepting it, and of course, Mr. Bennet’s loving consent upon hearing her declaration of love for Darcy. As for the imaginary scene of the fencing duel? Isn’t that just reminds us of Darcy’s own struggle? Further … isn’t it true that such an improvised addition could work just as well with Darcy and Wickham too?

I think we have seen enough Davis adaptations to not be surprised by his interpretive visions…not authentically out of Austen’s book, but effective just the same … and we forgive him yet again.

Indeed, not only the fencing duel, which is nicely shot, mesmerizing and dream-like, but all the scenes we see in this new version that are Davis’ own imagination are all quite effective, thanks also to the excellent camerawork and cinematography. Scenes such as Brandon’s gentle touch of Marianne’s hand as she lay ill in her bed, the invitation to his own library and leaving Marianne to the privacy of her own enjoyment of the pianoforte, to the taming of the falcon, all vividly depict Brandon’s patient and quiet yearning for her. And Marianne, even though by nature a free-spirited creature like the falcon, would eventually fly back and rest on the arm of the one who beckons her with his steadfast love. Davis’ imaginary scenes are most effective in portraying Marianne’s turnaround.

There are some very moving moments for Elinor too. Desperately seeking solitude in her silent suffering, Elinor finds shelter in a cave by the seaside. The camera’s point of view from inside the cave looking out, framing her silhouette against a tumultuous ocean, a stunning vision. Or, when she sits on a bench, again alone, facing the wide open sea, waiting, doubting, or just plain accepting… Our hearts pour out to her, and yet, it is Elinor’s perseverance that has won us over, not sentimentality. Now that is authentic Austen.

At the end, as Edward enters the Dashwood cottage to propose to Elinor, the slightly shaky camerawork is most effective in depicting the agitated anticipation of both lovers, for Edward, the nervous uncertainty of his reception, and for Elinor, the restless suspense and later unpredictable euphoria….kudos to the screenwriter, director, and cinematographer.

The Welsh filmmaker Peter Greenaway once made a controversial remark criticising film versions of literary work as mere “illustrated books”. Regarding Jane Austen’s work, he said:

“Cinema is predicated on the 19th century novel. We’re still illustrating Jane Austen novels–there are 41 films of Jane Austen novels in the world. What a waste of time.”

(Click here for the Wales news article containing the above quote.)

To which I respond: The visual can powerfully bring out the essence of the literary. A good film adaptation is more than illustration of printed words, but an inspiring visual narrative. At best, it can offer an interpretive vision and a new perspective to a timeless piece of writing.

The present adaptation is a vivid example.

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Click here to go back to Sense and Sensibility Part 1.

Don’t forget to vote in the Poll on the sidebar, Which Austen heroine do you think Jane was most like?

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JunoFest: Celebrating Classical at the Junos

Junos 2008 Venue Calgary Pengrowth Saddledome

What do Toronto classical composer Brian Current, Montreal cellist Matt Haimovitz, or violinist James Ehnes have in common with Anne Murray, Avril Lavigne, Feist, Jann Arden, Paul Brandt, or Michael Bublé?

They are all Canadian musicians sharing the limelight in this year’s Juno Awards coming up April 6.

The Canadian Music Awards extravaganza is to be held this Sunday April 6 in Calgary’s Pengrowth Saddledome. Click here for the official website of the 2008 Juno Awards.

Before the grand event, there is going to be a celebration of classical music. A first ever JunoFest will be held in Calgary’s Grand Theatre this Saturday. The event celebrating classical music is organized by CBC Radio 2, the Canadian Music Centre Prairie Region, the 2008 Juno Awards Host Committee, and the Honens International Piano Competition. It will feature works and performance by nominees in the classical music categories of this year’s Juno Awards.

Click here to read the April 2 Calgary Herald article on JunoFest.

Items on the JunoFest program include work by Toronto composer Brian Current (nominee for Classical Composition of the Year), performance by Montreal cellist Matt Haimovitz (nominee for Classical Album of the Year), and the renowned violinist James Ehnes (nominee for two Album of the Year).

Cellist and McGill faculty member Matt Haimovitz’s work may be most effective in dispelling the myth of Classical music being elitist and passé. His work embraces both the classical and modern day popular genres, as well as the multicultural roots of folk music. From his own repertoire, he has an eight-cello rendition of Jimi Hendrix’ war protest song Machine Gun, and from his multicultural, fusion CD “Goulash”, Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir in a four-cellos arrangement.

As we go further into this so-called postmodern era, we’re going to see the increasing blurring of the line between “classical” and “contemporary”. And why not, we’re already enjoying a proliferation of fusion food.

This is another reason CBC Radio 2 should all the more venture into this brave new world. Instead of cutting classical music programs, instill fresh and creative ideas to present the exciting development of “classical music” in the 21st century, and act as a bridge to draw closer the cultural and musical chasm. Just look into the myriad of modern day film scores, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, The Kite Runner, Atonement, just to name a few, you’ll be surprised how much you enjoy ‘fusion’ music. You may not recognize the classical music theory on which the compositions are based, but you’ll be enthralled just the same.

Calgary’s Pengrowth Saddledome Photo Source: aol travel

Sense and Sensibility (2008 TV): Part 1

What can I say after watching just half of a movie? But First Impressions last, and the notion has multi-layered meaning.

First off, I can’t help but compare this Andrew Davis version with the 1995 Emma Thompson’s screenplay. And secondly, I’m eager to watch Part 2 next week to see how some of my feelings from Part 1 hold out, of course, to also quench my Austenian thirst. PBS sure has underestimated the patience of Janeites who, I think, would not mind spending three hours to watch the whole movie in one sitting.

The two adaptations play out exactly as the story does. Emma Thompson’s screenplay is an almost literal and reserved view of the novel, while Andrew Davis’ is an imaginative and free-spirited rendition. The two versions are very much a parallel image of Elinor versus Marianne, sense contrasted with sensibility, or should I say, sense and sensuality? The perfect scenario, of course, is a balance of the two. And last night, while appreciating the fresh angle Davis has led me to look at the novel, I also long for a more literal, more authentic representation.

Davis has taken the liberty to create scenes intended to appeal to (what he thinks is the expectation of) modern day viewers, a much more erotic and sensual rendition than the Austen novel. Not authentic, but I admit, some of those scenes are quite effective. Not that I think Jane Austen needs that kind of help though.

I have particularly enjoyed the set design and cinematography. The sumptuous Norland Park, the elegant costume, and the picturesque natural scenery, the almost Gothic billowing seaside of the Dashwood new home. Barton cottage by the cliff? Again, not authentic, but quite effective. The howling winds and crashing waves are sharp contrast to the once quiet and comfortable life of Norland Park. They also signify the turmoils in the hearts of the characters, betraying their calm composure. There is a beautiful shot when Elinor runs up the windy mountain, the camera follows her wind-swept hair and fluttering dress. As she stops at the edge of the cliff, looking down onto the rising waves, she opens the book Edward has given her as a parting gift, slowly caressing the words he left in there. That is one moving scene.

I have thoroughly enjoyed the camera work. Like an omniscient narrator, it captures not only the macro views, but by its silent pan and close-up shots, reveal the inner emotions and deeper characterization. The blurry shots of the wind-charm hanging outside the cottage, strung up sea shells Margaret has collected by the craggy shore, slowly dancing in the quiet breeze, a metaphor for the passing of time, or the changing of scenes…very effective indeed.

This adaptation features a younger cast. Hattie Morahan as Elinor, Charity Wakefield as Marianne, as well as Dan Stevens and Dominic Cooper as Edward Ferris and Willoughby are much more compatible in age to the story’s requirement than the 1995 movie. However, I feel the contrast between the sisters are more proficiently acted by Thompson and Winslet….so far in this Part I anyway. The younger cast brings in a fresh perspective, but I miss the maturity and talent in the previous version. I like Lucy Boynton’s Margaret (Miss Potter, 2006), a very clever performance and lucky girl…she has some of the best lines in the movie. Another favorite character of mine in just watching this first part is Janet McTeer as Mrs. Dashwood, her performance almost overshadows her daughters.

David Morrissey’s Colonel Brandon is portrayed as a more lofty and noble character than an emotionally tormented soul, a role Alan Rickman has mastered. In the present version, Brandon meeting with Willoughby is an obvious reminiscence of a previous Andrew Davis adaptation, yes, the first, chance encounter of Darcy and Wickham in Meryton. The cold and awkward expression on their faces are brought back here. Morrissey’s tall and stately stature sharply contrasts with the much shorter, scoundrel-looking Willoughby, obviously contrasting not just a difference in physical appearance but in character. However, this is not what Austen intended. The Willoughby she has described has all the social charm, height and good looks so to bring young girls under his grasp. A deceitful character masked by a handsome appearance. Again, not authentic here, but as to effects, it depends on how much an Austen purist you are. Nonetheless, I feel the Darcy and Wickham allusion is apparent.

Overall, I have enjoyed this first part of the new Sense and Sensibility. The cinematography and camera work has done a great service to enhance a very elegant adaptation. I anticipate eagerly to see how my First Impressions will play out in the concluding part coming up next week.

…if only I can just watch it now.

Update: Click here to go directly to my review of Part 2 and Conclusion of Sense and Sensibility (2008).

And… Don’t forget to cast your vote on the sidebar, Which Austen Heroine Was Jane Most Like?

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