Friday Five: Musical Biopics

We watched Rocketman last night. I thought the film was excellent, despite not really liking the music of Elton John. The more I think about it; the more I realise that the reason I like the film so much is because it is not a straightforward biopic, which follows a chronological line of singer - and then he did this; and then he did that - but which explores themes of isolation, loneliness, addiction, desire to be loved and need for self-discovery.

The narrative is explored through the music, and Dexter Fletcher's direction is sharp from the forlorn childhood experiences through the magical realism of the dances of character development to the drug-addled performance scenes and the clinical frustration of the rehab clinic. Both Taron Egerton as Elton John and Jamie Bell as Bernie Taupin are excellent in their studied depiction of emotion rather than mimicry of artists, and, with the supporting cast, they create a cracker of a film.

From this, I deduce that the music of the artist is not necessarily what draws me to a biopic; it is more in the way the story is presented and the acting of the participants. No, I have not seen Bohemian Rhapsody, because the reviews I've read and the trailers I've seen do not interest me - but I will, because it won the best male actor Oscar and was nominated for the best picture. Meanwhile, here are some other musical biopics I have enjoyed (and yes, there are more than five):

24 Hour Party People

12 Musical Biopics:

1. 8 Mile (2002) - A film about a young man pushing boundaries and finding his voice, literally and metaphorically; Curtis Hanson directs Eminem playing a version of himself with some tightly-choreographed rap battles and strategically-placed moments of tension and explosion.
2. 24 Hour Party People (2002) - Manchester: my music; my era; my city; my club. With writing by Frank Cotterell Boyce and direction by Michael Winterbottom, it is as sharp and cutting a depiction of the Manchester music scene as you could hope to see. Steve Coogan captures the essence of Tony Wilson with wry bitchiness and straight-to-camera monolgues. The film is as irreverent as it is incisive as it rides the music train from punk to New Wave to acid house and the rave scene. 
3. 20,000 Days on Earth (2014) - Not only a fascinating insight into the more-than-mildly-bonkers mind of Nick Cave, but also a discourse on the transformative power of performance. Confidently directed by Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard, the fusion of documentary and drama with talking heads and concert footage is absolutely excellent. It won the directing award at the Sundance Film Festival; it deserved to win many more at many more.





4. Amadeus (1984) - I don't know a lot about Mozart, but I know what I like, and I like this film. It's got humour, passion, and pathos - all embodied in Peter Shaffer's adaptation of his original play and the art with which Tom Hulce (Mozart) and F. Murray Abraham (Salieri) enact the rivalry between the great composers. In an interview, Hulce claimed that he used John McEnroes's mood swings as a source of inspiration for his portrayal of Mozart's unpredictable genius. Director Milos Forman uses flashbacks, juxtapositions and anachronisms in a way that was revolutionary to me at the time (I was 13).  
5. La Bamba (1987) - The film that introduced the world to the star that shone so brightly as Lou Diamond Phillips, playing Ritchie Valens. Although I knew the music of Buddy Holly, Jackie Wilson, Eddie Cochran and The Big Bopper (thanks, mum and dad), I didn't really know anything about their background or their tragically shortened futures. Written and directed by Luis Valdez, the film is very straightforward and borders on bland, but it provides just the right level of detail for a teen learning about musical influences and has enough energy and emphasis on camaraderie to appeal to a young adult audience. 
6. Behind the Candelabra (2013) - one of my favourite films of the year. Yes, it really is as good as everyone says it is. Michael Douglas and Matt Damon are excellent. The flamboyance and excess are neatly captured with gentle ridicule but evident empathy, and confirm Liberace’s own conviction that ‘too much of a good thing is wonderful’.
7. Control (2007) - Great music; great acting (even from Samantha ‘yes, it-would-kill-me-to-smile' Morton); great directing; great city – what more can I say?
8. I'm Not There (2007) - Bob Dylan biopic with the shaggy haired folk-singer played by six different actors, to represent different aspects of his career and personality, most notably Cate Blanchett, whose performance earned her an Oscar nomination. Bits of it are inspired but it is also rather rambling and goes on too long.



9. The Pianist (2002) - Adrien Brody is spellbinding in this adaptation based on the autobiography of Polish-Jewish pianist, composer, and Holocaust-survivor, Wladyslaw Szpilman. The film was a co-production of France, the United Kingdom, Germany and Poland, and is directed by Roman Polanski in what may be his best ever work. It is harrowing, as is to be expected with its WWII setting where concentration camps and death are ever-present, but it is also hopeful and even peculiarly uplifting. And it feels authentic. Since Polanski wanted the film to be as realistic as possible, any scene showing Brody playing was actually his playing overdubbed by recordings performed by Olejniczak. In order for Brody's playing to look like it was at the level of Szpilman's, he spent many months prior to and during the filming practising so that his keystrokes on the piano would convince viewers that Brody himself was playing
10. Shine (1996) - Directed by Scott Hicks and starring Geoffrey Rush, this film examines that fine line between musical creativity and mental illness in the person of concert pianist, David Helfgott. The device of three actors playing the pianist at different times of his life emphasises the deep and lasting effects that parental pressures can cause. There are a few mawkish moments, but overall it is sensitively handled and touching. 
11. Sid & Nancy (1986) - In the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit that I love Gary Oldman. Even when he is playing the whiny, narcissistic, petulant punk-boy, Sid Vicious. The film, directed by Alex Cox, has a fantastic soundtrack (including Joe Strummer and The Pogues alongside The Sex Pistols, of course) and a spectacularly bleak outlook. And yet, from the filth and the futility, Oldman and Chloe Webb (as Nancy Spungen) manage to unearth a love story, which is battered into a sublime submission. This is what happens when hype overtakes talent; nobody wins but the marketing moguls. 
12. La Vie en Rose (2007) - Absolutely brilliant: great acting; great singing; great cinematography; great film. End of.

Yes, I am fully aware that only one in twelve of these focuses on a female artist; I'd be keen to hear recommendations for decent musical biopics that do. I have not yet seen The Runaways, although I intend to. I am also aware that there is a fine line between documentary and biopic (the Nick Cave one especially straddles fences, but that shouldn't come as any surprise), and that it seems people are often more interested in the 'madness' than the music. 

Blurred Lines: How to Talk to Girls at Parties

How to Talk to Girls at Parties by Neil Gaiman; illustrated by Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba

Dark Horse Books

Pp.62

This is the first graphic novel I have read since I sat with a box of comic books at school on those rainy days when we couldn’t access the playground – unless you count Viz, of course, which kept me amused through my late teens. It was published June 2016, although the original short story by Neil Gaiman was written in 2006. The artistic content is clearly as important as the narrative or the words themselves, and here the images are supplied by Fábio Moon and Gabriel Bá: a Brazilian duo (twin brothers), who have won awards and international acclaim for telling stories in comic book form. The pictures feature bright colours with strong outlines and bold details against watercolour-like backgrounds to the panels. It is impressive and efficient to be able to draw pictures in place of descriptions, but it can occasionally lead to confusion as details, humorous asides, and motivations are omitted.

The story is set in East Croydon, told by Enn, and framed as a narrative from 30 years ago. He is a fifteen-year-old boy with all the normal concerns of a heterosexual teenager: namely how to make girls notice him when everyone seems to be attracted to his best mate, Vic. The language is either deliberately teenaged and ignorant or woefully blokey and sexist as he talks of girls as objects. Vic tells Enn, “You just have to talk to them. They’re just girls. They don’t come from another planet”, which is not bad advice, although it may also turn out not to be true.

At a party, Vic abandons him to go upstairs with the best-looking girl present (presumably for intimate encounters). Enn is despondent but forces himself to talk to three girls: Wain’s Wain, who explains that she is a second – she has six fingers on one hand – and thus not allowed to breed; a second nameless girl who claims, “I love being a tourist” and regales him with stories of “swimming in sunfire pools with whales” and learning to breathe; and Triolet, who claims to be a poem.

The story plays upon the need to belong and the fear of being an outsider, with strong implications of other-worldliness. Women are clearly from another planet – Mars and Venus anyone? When Triolet kisses him, it blows his mind. He sees “towers of glass and diamond and people with eyes of the palest green and unstoppable beneath every syllable I could feel the relentless advance of the ocean.” The drawing is of a fantasy land with bridges and turrets; minarets and spires in green and gold – a bit like The Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz.

Vic interrupts his reverie as he runs terrified from the house and Stella stands looking down at him in fury. There are suggestions that he tried to sexually assault her, although it is all rather ambiguous (The short story includes the line, “Her clothes were in disarray, and there was makeup smudged across her face, and her eyes”, which makes it less so). When Enn looks back he finds he remembers impressions of the evening rather than facts, and perhaps it is all a metaphor for the mind-altering universe of teenage hormones.

Neil Gaiman is hailed as a hero by many of my fantasy-loving friends, but I can’t help but feel there is something distasteful about this story. The pictures are beautiful but the sentiments are not. In trying to blur the lines of sexual experimentation and assault, I think this is unhelpful – especially when considering the teenage market at which it is aimed.

Art imitating art: Kehinde Wiley

One of the things I like about going to new cities is visiting galleries with which I am not familiar, and just wandering about noting artworks that I like for whatever reason. I have no preconceptions and I tend not to go to a specific exhibit; I just like to see what is prized by the local populace.

Indio Cuauhtemoc (The World Stage: Brazil), 2017 by Kehinde Wiley

In Portland Art Museum, this vibrant piece of art caught my eye - how could it not; check out that background! I had not previously heard of the artist, so I looked him up.

Apparently Kehinde Wiley paints young men and women of the African diaspora in majestic poses based on the glorified portraits of the European Renaissance and Enlightenment eras. The World Stage series expands the artist's view across the globe. For his Brazil paintings, Wiley began with the nationalistic monuments that stand in city streets and parks. He then selected Afro-Brazilian men from favelas, the poorest neighbourhoods in Brazil's cities, to stand in these aggrandized roles. Wiley depicts them in their everyday clothing against abundant floral backdrops.

His artistic choices draw attention to the troubling history of colonialism, the pervasiveness of American culture and fashion, and the ways we fetishize and desire 'the tropical'. The man in this painting poses like the statue of Cuauhtemoc, situated in Rio de Janeiro.

Cuauhtemoc was the last Aztec emperor who ruled Tenochtitlan from 1520 - 1521 before being executed by the Spanish. The government of Mexico gave the sculpture to Brazil in 1922 to recognise the 100th anniversary of Brazilian independence from Portugal.

I then learned that Wiley was chosen by Barack Obama to paint his official portrait which would hang in Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery in the 'America's Presidents' exhibition. Again Wiley uses the style of having his subject seemingly floating among the foliage. This foliage comprises chrysanthemums (the official flower of Chicago), jasmine (symbolic of Hawaii where Obama spent much of his youth), and African blue lilies (alluding to the president's Kenyan father).

Barack Obama by Kehinde Wiley

Many people compared the image of Obama to the scene in The Simpsons where Homer attempts to avoid attention by backing into a hedge. Seeing similarities between modern photographs and classic works of art is not new, and technical folk have a lot of fun with it on the Net. An article in the New York magazine, Intelligencer, points out that this particular expression is both banal and bathetic.

The comparison between Wiley’s portrait and the iconic Simpsons moment is obviously meant as dumb fun, but it has an emotional resonance: a former president, watching from the sidelines, exiting quietly into history as his successor turns American politics into a petty, dysfunctional, egotistical mess.

The painting was unveiled in February 2018 together with Amy Sherald's portrait of Michelle Obama. These portraits mark the first time two African-American artists were commissioned by the National Portrait Gallery.

Michelle Obama by Amy Sherald

And this is why I like art galleries so much. They lead me down artistic pathways of mental exploration. Whenever I am looking; I am learning.

Friday Five: Even Crosser Stitch

Here are another five of my latest cross-stitch creations. The first four patterns and explanations are taken from Really Cross Stitch; for when You Just Want to Stab Something a Lot by Rayna Fahey.

'Aside from tractors, colour photography and whiskey, Ireland's greatest contribution to the world has to be Father Ted. Set on a fictional remote island, the television series revolves around three priests banished for previous misdemeanours. One episode stood out from the rest, when the local cinema screens a 'blasphemous' film. Father Ted leads the defence of community values.

'Down With This Sort Of Thing' was Father Ted's placard, and has become an old faithful on the Irish protest circuit. It can be used for any occasion, to be sure, to be sure.'

'The thing about snowflakes is, get enough of them in one place, add a bit of fury, and you've got yourself a blizzard. Blizzards may begin with a flutter but once they get going they have the power to bring cities to a standstill.

When the best response the entitled can come up with is to compare you to a benign and natural phenomenon, it's a pretty good sign you're winning the argument. And that their binary macho principles are ridiculous.'

'Indigenous peoples worldwide are the first to pay the price for climate change, yet contribute the least to its causes. Luckily for the future of our lovely planet, indigenous peoples are also the first to stand up and defend this beautiful place we call Earth. 

The battle lines of the war against climate change are being defended daily as people take direct action to save forests, rivers and oceans. From Standing Rock to the Galilee Basin, from the tar sands to the trade summits; the fight to stop climate change is shaping up to be the most creative and effective movement in our history.'

"To the wrongs that need resistance,to the right that needs assistance, to the future in the distance, give yourselves." - Carrie Chapman Catt (Suffragette)

For over 150 years women have led movements for one basic idea: participation in democracy is a right that belongs to everyone. While the debate's nuances have evolved, the idea remains strong. Of course the opposition to the movement is also ongoing. The anti-suffragettes of the 19th century had an appalling sense of humour and their cartoons are always good for a laugh. But the laughter turns bitter when we think about the relentless attacks on women we still face.

These just happen to be a couple of creative efforts I made and gave to a friend. The book, Mornington Crescent (AUD25 + p&p) is my own labour of love. The cross-stitch is a reference to spoon theory, and how, when the emotional drawer is empty, one can just feel like stabbing something a lot. It's also a warning. All cross-stitch is, in its way; it's quietly subversive, rebellious way.

Picking up the Pieces: The Mao Case

The Mao Case by Qiu Xiaolong

Sceptre

Pp. 289

With this novel set in Shanghai and Beijing, Qui Xiaolong introduces us to cities of growth and contrasts where modern mores sit alongside past rituals. This is a world of art and culture; teahouses and calligraphy; corrupt officials and Triad gangs; opera and poetry; ‘Big Bucks’ and ‘little concubines’; street food and emperor’s places; ballroom dancing and Buddhist scripture. And above or below everything, there is the shadow of Mao and the Cultural Revolution.

There are five previous outings for Chief Inspector Chen, but this reads perfectly well as a stand-alone novel. Chen is relieved of his regular duties to focus on a special case which may or may not involve Chairman Mao. “A case concerning Mao could have unpredictable consequences, possibly serious ones for the cops involved.” Shang Yunguan was a 1950's movie queen who became one of Mao’s many dancing partners before falling from grace and, with her daughter Qian, being denounced in the Cultural Revolution. Now her daughter, Jiao, is causing suspicion through her affluent lifestyle of parties and painting and it is feared she may be in possession of material that could harm the Party. If Chen doesn’t solve the case soon, Internal Security will become involved, and then it really will be game over.

Jiao spends a lot of time in the company of older men, which is not in itself exceptional. The practice of ‘Big Bucks’ keeping young women as concubines is commonplace. They party at an old mansion frequented by ‘Old Dicks’ obsessed with the 1930's and English manners. The treatment of women is problematic – a plot point hinges on a young women being used as bait; she will be harmed but the police will gain information so this is acceptable.

Chen, as a “capable and honest cop” was “a rarity in an age of wide-spread corruption”. He also writes poetry and so is the right person to decipher whether there is anything in the verse Mao wrote which could be personally or politically compromising. The attitude to Mao is an interesting one. The book’s dedication is, ‘For the people that suffered under Mao’. These were indisputably horrific times, and China’s attempt to come to term with this period of its history is one of progress rather than reflection. Chen understands that for the younger generation, who are not personally affected by the horrors and the massacres, Mao is becoming a mythical figure. “The past is now seen as a sort of golden Mao period where there was no gap between the rich and poor, no rampant Party corruption, no organised crime and prostitution, but instead there were free medical insurance, stable pensions, and state-controlled housing.”

Many things are altering in this new world, from attitudes to buildings. There is apparent affluence, but as in the past, it is not equally distributed. “In the fast-changing city, the gap between the rich and the poor was once again expanding. The newspapers and magazines had started talking about a harmonious society, all of a sudden and all at once, like never-tiring cicadas in the trees.” Chen is disconcerted by the modifications to a city he once knew and doubts they are entirely for the better.

The novel picks up pace in the final quarter – there are murders to be solved after all – but for most of its length it meanders through poetry and the past, as Chen reflects on his ex-girlfriend and previous experiences. Although the plot feels a little perfunctory, the setting of the novel is clear and precise, and everything is overshadowed by the spectre of Mao and his legacy.

Friday Five: Date Nights

Cascara Cherry Bomb Sour! by Capital Brewing Co.

We're very busy. Other than working full-time jobs, he does brewing and I do theatre. We are on committees for these things. We also try to fit in exercise. It can be tough to find the time to spend together without just sitting on the sofa in a state of exhaustion. So we have instigated a night a week where we go out and do a thing together. It doesn't have to be a big thing - but it is our thing. We enjoy each other's company and need to make time for us, rather than letting all our other concerns take priority. We alternate between who gets to choose the activity/ venue; sometimes we are more creative than at others. You can probably guess who chooses which. We are having fun.

5 Recent 'Date Nights':

1. Capital Brewing launch of Cascara Cherry Bomb Sour! - Capital is a great summer after-work spot, with lots of space to sit outside and relax. It's very casual and welcoming to all - cyclists; families; dogs; drinkers... it's very inclusive. Handily located near not a lot of anything else, it is a true destination venue. We went for launch of their latest beer: the Cascara Cherry Bomb Sour! It's a kettle-soured collaboration with Ona coffee and, at less than 3% abv, it's a perfect drink for a summer afternoon, and you can still drive home. Or stay and have a session.
2. Vice at Palace Electric - We went to our favourite cinema to see this film written and directed by Adam McKay about the crucial years in the life of Dick Cheney. It that made me angry. The film is well-acted (Christian Bale is notable as the former U.S. vice president) and the direction excellent; the politics are despicable. It took all of my self restraint not to boo most of the characters. Now I just have to try and unclench my jaw. I disliked the very end (please stop insulting my intelligence; I can draw my own comparisons without them being spelled out to me) but the fly-fishing lures at the end credits were a nice touch.
3. The Brindabella half-price pizza - It's a golf-club watering-hole, with beautiful views over the greens (is that what they're called?). There are parrots in the trees, there is good beer on tap, the pizzas are half-price on Wednesdays, and it's within easy walking distance of our house (downhill on the way home). What more could you want?



Chilli Prawns Pizza at The Brindabella

4. Permanent O-course, Weston Park - So much more fun than I remember this being as a child. I may have finally overcome my pathological aversion to orange and white triangles. Him Outdoors and I took turns in navigating around a lovely park in the soft light of the evening with kangaroos for company, and finished it off with bubbles by the lake and fish and chips. 



Him Outdoors finds the prize!

5. Tim Minchin at The Canberra Theatre Centre - The gig was amazing. The man is phenomenal: talented; witty; angry; edgy; passionate; funny; charismatic; good-looking; intelligent; mischievous; sensitive... Shall I go on? (Him Outdoors says 'no'.)

In Homer's Shadow: Bridge of Clay

Bridge of Clay by Markus Zusak

Picador

Pp. 579

It has been highly publicised how long it took Markus Zusak to write this book, and the implication is always that it means a lot to him and is a labour of love. That is entirely understandable, but, at almost 600 pages, it reads as if he doesn’t know where to start, or finish, or even what to say.

The novel revolves around five boys growing up in a semi-rural suburb in New South Wales. Their mother, Penelope, died a long slow death from cancer and their father, Michael, abandoned them to deal with his grief alone. He returns asking for assistance to build a bridge so that he can get to and from his remote dwelling place on an island. Metaphor, much? Most of the boys refuse outright to help, but Clay offers to go with him, although he knows this will involve a severe beating at the hands or fists of his brothers when he comes home.

The oldest boy, Matthew, narrates the story, although he claims it belongs to Clay. The boys are hard to tell apart because they don’t do anything demonstrably different from each other – they all fight and drop out of school. Matthew tells us about them, rather than allowing their actions to individualise them. Thus we learn that he is the breadwinner of the family (although we are not exactly sure what he does; is he a labourer?), Rory is the biggest bruiser who likes a drink, Henry likes 80s films, and Tommy collects animals: a cat (Hector), a goldfish (Agamemnon), a pigeon (Telemachus), a cat (Hector) and a mule (Achilles).

Clay (he of the bridge building) is the quiet one. He is in training, although it is not specified for what. He runs a lot and fights. He also has a relationship with a young jockey, Carey (they live by a racetrack), which seems to involve them lying on an old mattress and him being tickled by her hair. They give each other cryptic gifts (a lighter; a broken peg; an old book) and speak in what are presumably meant to be deep aphorisms, but sound like the bits S.E. Hinton thought were too naff for one of her Young Adult novels. Incidentally, this is the first of Zusak’s novels to be promoted as general fiction rather than for young adults. The distinction appears to be length rather than content, as the general world of the teenage boys is no grittier than the setting of The Book Thief.

As the names might suggest, this is clearly meant to be an homage to Homer. The boys’ mother, Penelope Lesciuszko is a refugee from Europe, impelled by her father, Waldek, to escape the tyranny of totalitarianism. Her imagination has been formed by the 39 books Waldek owns, especially his copies of The Iliad and The Odyssey. Homeric epithets may work in epic poetry but the same descriptors (clear-eyed Cary Novak; warm-armed Claudia Kirkby), sonorous syntax and sentence length are tiresome in this novel.

Zusak plays with chronology, suggesting that nothing is straightforward, but the segments (each headed with font that looks as though it was typed on an old typewriter, as we are led to believe it was) are very short – often not more than a couple of paragraphs – and it is sometimes hard to tell where we are in the story. The Odyssey was spoken aloud and passed on to other narrators; Bridge of Clay simply has a number of unnecessary tricks which pall far too fast. Each statement is written as a new line, and the foreshadowing is overbearing.

“After all, Penelope would die.

Michael would leave.

And I, of course, would stay.

Before any of that could happen, though, he would teach me and train me for Hartnell.

This was going to be great.”

The narrative seems needlessly convoluted in structure merely to create suspense by with-holding information. One reviewer described it as ‘Bridge of Delay’, and the revelations are not worth the wait – Michael is described as The Murderer for several hundred pages before it becomes clear that his ‘crime’ was to leave the boys after his wife died. By this time I am past caring. When Matthew tells the story of Penelope and Michael (and Abbey, the woman Michael loved before he met Penelope), the novel is interesting. They met when Penelope’s piano was wrongly delivered to Michael’s house. He writes ‘Please Marry Me’ on the keys, and long after their presence has gone from the house, the faded writing on the notes reverberates as the piano remains as one of those resounding symbols Zusak so enjoys.

Clay is interested in his parents’ pre-occupations, including their obsession with Michelangelo and building. The brief chapters on the bridge-building could be interesting but they are crushed beneath the weight of their own metaphor. We learn more about how manly (stupid?) they are as they dig out earth and rocks with their bare hands and sleep under the stars in the riverbed. All too soon we are back to the rest of the family with their fighting and inarticulate relationships.

Matthew writes, “It’s a mystery, even to me sometimes, how boys and brothers love.” Despite the lengthy story presented here, it remains a mystery to me too. As annoying teenagers used to say, ‘build a bridge and get over it’. I loved The Book Thief. I shall remember Zusak as the author of that and put this down to an over-engineered folly.