“I would be measured by the soul. The mind's the standard of the Man” – Isaac Watts “But…the patronage and the success of quacks and quackeries are infinitely more wonderful than those of honest and laborious men of science.” – P.T. Barnum Cinema, like any other art form, is often best when it functions as a form of escapism. Many of my favorite films of all time, from Star Wars to Avengers, effectively transport me out of the real world and into a fantastical, fictional reality filled with starships and superheroes. Some critics and cinephiles find this form of film to be less-than, which I tend to think is ridiculous. But sometimes, the best of cinema is that which reflects the grueling realities of our lives and societies in order to grapple with issues that affect us in our everyday lives. I like that kind of movie, too…when done right. Today, I want to reflect on two movies that take very different approaches to highlighting the experiences of a specific group of human beings that have existed throughout history, currently exist, and will continue to exist long after we’re gone― “freaks of nature.” To be clear, I do not use this term with malicious intent but rather as a means to reflect upon how those with physical deformities and abnormalities have been “othered” since the first human-centric sideshow attraction was conceived of. Within the last year, I have watched two movies that deal with this subject in VERY different ways: David Lynch’s black-and-white drama The Elephant Man, and Michael Gracey’s musical biopic The Greatest Showman. Which one (in my humble opinion) does justice to the deformed, and which one squanders any chance of being deemed respectful in its portrayal? You’ll have to keep reading to find. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay The Elephant Man (1980) Film producer and Brooklyn native Jonathan Sanger (Vanilla Sky, Marshall) was given a script by his babysitter. Written by relatively unknown screenwriters Christopher Devore and Eric Bergren, the script adapted the real-life story of Englishman Joseph Merrick who suffered from severe deformities and was a freak show attraction before going to live at the London Hospital where he was studied by, and became friends with, surgeon Frederick Treves. At the time, Sanger was an assistant director for Mel Brooks (The Producers, Blazing Saddles) during the production of Brooks’s film High Anxiety. Sanger showed the script to Brooks, who loved it and decided to produce the project through his new company Brooksfilms. After his personal assistant suggested David Lynch (Blue Velvet, The Straight Story) to be the director (whom Brooks had never heard of), Sanger arranged a private screening of Eraserhead, Lynch’s directorial debut, for Brooks. Meanwhile, Sanger met privately with Lynch to show him the script and loved many of his ideas for the project. Brooks loved Lynch’s film, and Lynch loved the script: The Elephant Man was becoming real. In addition to directing and contributing to the screenplay, Lynch supervised the musical and sound direction for the film (he even tried doing the make-up himself, which ended up failing). Instead, Christopher Tucker (Star Wars, The Company of Wolves), a renowned make-up artist, was hired to create the prosthetic for the eponymous “Elephant Man.” Tucker’s prosthetic work on the project was universally acclaimed, and protest letters were sent to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences deriding the fact that he would not receive a special award. In response, an Oscar category for Best Makeup was created the next year. John Hurt (Midnight Express, Alien, The Field), the actor hired to portray Joseph Merrick, would arrive on set every day at 5 a.m. for approximately seven hours of prosthetic make-up application. After shooting his scenes for ten hours a day, it took another two hours for the prosthetics to be removed. After the early days of principal photography, Hurt called his girlfriend and said, “I think they finally managed to make he hate acting.” After principal photography was complete, Lynch and Sanger screened the film privately for Brooks, who only suggested some minor cuts but assured them that the film would be released intact. Notably, Brooks was not credited as a producer per his own request because he did not want audiences to see his name associated with the movie and enter the theater assuming that it would be a comedy. The Elephant Man premiered in October of 1980, grossing about 26 million dollars in North America on a five-million-dollar budget. Upon release, the film was mostly praised by critics with many highlighting Hurt’s and Anthony Hopkins’s lead performances and the cinematography by Freddie Francis (Sons and Lovers, Glory). Notably, however, Roger Ebert found the film thematically confused. Nevertheless, the film tied Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull for the most nominations at that year’s Academy Awards (including Best Director, Best Actor for Hurt, and Best Adapted Screenplay), but ended up winning none of the eight that it was nominated for. I do not consider myself to be a fan of David Lynch. I have failed to watch most of his films to completion because I find myself either dozing off, bored out of my mind, or utterly dumbfounded at his surrealist style of storytelling. In that sense, I was shocked when I found myself fully gripped by and invested in The Elephant Man. It is an exceptional film in more ways than one: the performances (notably the leads) are all great, the production design is more-than-serviceable, and the use of black-and-white adds a gritty realism to Merrick’s story that would come off to me as pretentious and try-hard in many other films. There’s a lot to like about this film, but what I love most about it is how the story of Merrick’s life is told. We follow Merrick from his days as a nearly-mute piece of entertainment to a sympathetic patient to an empowered man with a blossoming personality and people to call true friends. In other words, the writing, Lynch’s direction, and Hurt’s performance humanize Merrick and make him more than just a novelty of history or a “freak of nature.” Rather, the character transcends his outward appearance and identity to become a living, breathing person representative of the struggles of those like him from the dawn of mankind. For this reason, among others, The Elephant Man succeeds as a “freakshow” movie because it strips any pretense of who John Merrick should be given all of the abuse he suffered. Instead, Hurt plays him as a man with a quiet, inner dignity and genteel outlook on life that serves as a shining example of what true heroism looks like. The New York Times film critic Vincent Canby put it another way at the time: “Throughout the film one longs for an explosion. That it never comes is more terrifying…than John Merrick's acceptance of the values of others is inspiring.”[1] Needless to say, The Elephant Man accomplishes what many other films about real people (specifically abnormal people) struggle to do. But don’t take my word for it; check it out for yourself to experience the absolute near-perfect that this movie is. Image by Jonggun Go from Pixabay The Greatest Showman (2017)
During rehearsals for the Oscars ceremony in 2009, film producers Laurence Mark (Jerry Maguire, Bicentennial Man) and Bill Condon (Chicago, Dreamgirls) observed how much Australian actor Hugh Jackman (Les Misérables, X-Men: Days of Future Past) was similar to the stage persona of 19th-century showman P.T. Barnum. As Jackman expressed interest in playing Barnum, Mark and Condon hired Jenny Bicks, one of the writers of the Oscars ceremony that year, to co-write a screenplay about Barnum with Condon. The project was in development for seven years before a director was secured, a cast was chosen, and the songs were written. Principal photography took place in the fall of 2016 in New York City, and The Greatest Showman was released in December the next year. While it grossed over 400 million dollars on an 84-million-dollar budget, the film was largely scorned by critics for its shallow, oversentimental, and simplified portrayal of Barnum’s life and personality. However, some critics argued that the film was either effective as pure entertainment or clever subversion of Barnum’s darker side by glamorizing his story in a way that only he could appreciate fully. When I sat down to watch The Greatest Showman less than a year ago, I did not expect to love it. But I did think I would be entertained by it, and for awhile I was. Jackman certainly brings all of his effervescent charm in a full-throated effort to make Barnum the character likeable. Furthermore, the production values and music are enough to distract me from my vomit-inducing disgust towards the film. But only for awhile. The Greatest Showman is ultimately a failure because it does the opposite of what Lynch and Hurt did in The Elephant Man. Rather than humanizing its “freaks of nature” by telling their stories and allowing the social commentary to flow organically, this movie uses the “freak” characters (notably Keala Settle’s Lettie Lutz, the “Bearded Lady”) as tools to convey in-your-face lessons about tolerance and self-empowerment through song. On top of that, the film strips any nuance and intrigue from Barnum’s real-life story and transforms him into a fantastical cartoon (albeit a charming one). All in all, the movie (in my humble opinion) fails in almost every way to deliver a heartwarming or interesting story about social outcasts. I don’t think I need to tell you which of these films I liked better. 😊 Which of these films do you think more effectively tells stories about “freaks of nature”? What other movies that deal with this subject would you recommend? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst [1] Canby, V. (1980, October 03). 'Elephant man,' study in genteelness. Retrieved April 17, 2021, from https://www.nytimes.com/1980/10/03/archives/elephant-man-study-in-genteelness.html
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Image by cromaconceptovisual from Pixabay Today, I continue my reflection on films from “1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die” by Steven Jay Schneider by dissecting what I found surprisingly powerful about Paul Thomas Anderson’s 2007 epic historical drama film There Will Be Blood.
[NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for “There Will Be Blood.” You have been warned.] The History Journalist Eric Schlosser (Fast Food Nation, Reefer Madness) became enamored by the 1927 novel Oil! by Upton Sinclair in the early 2000s. Convinced it would make a great basis for a movie, Schlosser intended to find a director that was equally passionate about the book and the topic of the early 20th century oil industry. Coincidentally, director and California native Paul Thomas Anderson (Boogie Nights, Magnolia, Punch-Drunk Love) discovered Sinclair’s book around the same time and became equally captivated by its subject matter. Since he was suffering writer’s block on another script, Anderson opted to draft a screenplay that adapted portions of Sinclair’s novel while also incorporating some of his own research about the turn-of-the-century oil barons of Bakersfield, California. Anderson wrote the screenplay for There Will Be Blood with Daniel Day-Lewis (My Left Foot, In the Name of the Father, Lincoln) in mind for the protagonist as he had always wanted to work with him. Upon hearing that Day-Lewis enjoyed Anderson’s previous movie, Punch-Drunk Love, he met with the Oscar-winning actor and gave him a copy of the nearly complete script. The rest was history, as Day-Lewis accepted the role after his first meeting with Anderson. In spite of having a solid script and star in Day-Lewis signed on to the project, the film’s producers found it initially difficult to finance the project because some studios thought the idea lacked the scope for a major motion picture. After two years, the money was acquired for principal photography to begin in Texas in June of 2006 and end three months later. Two weeks into shooting, Anderson’s original choice for Eli Sunday was replaced by Paul Dano (12 Years a Slave, Prisoners, Swiss Army Man) who was already playing the much smaller role of Paul Sunday, thus making the characters identical twins. Despite only having four days to prepare for his expanded role and begin reshoots, Anderson was confident in his ability to be up for the challenge. There Will Be Blood was released to theaters on December 26, 2007, grossing over 75 million dollars on a third of the budget and receiving virtually universal praise from critics and audiences alike. The film was listed in the top three on over two dozen critics’ top-ten lists that year, and was nominated for eight Academy Awards, winning two (Best Actor for Day-Lewis, and Best Cinematography). The Pros P.T. Anderson is hit or miss for me, to the point where I have failed to finish some of his films. But, there are a select few that I thoroughly enjoy and There Will Be Blood is one of them. There is a lot to like about it, so let’s dive in, shall we? What sticks out most to me about this film is how effective it is at slow, deliberate storytelling. Oft times, storytellers rely on a slow build in order to create dramatic tension but fail to captivate me as an audience member long enough to feel that the payoff of said tension was worth the wait. But Anderson pulls this off in There Will Be Blood, largely thanks to Day-Lewis’s central performance as ruthless oil tycoon Daniel Plainview. I was never bored, or even slightly disinterested, because the colorful cast of characters surrounding Plainview (and, of course, Plainview himself) and the world of greed and betrayal that they conceive remains evermore fascinating and engrossing. Thus, Anderson’s deliberate pace is both satisfyingly entertaining and thematically rich. Also, as a lover of not only history but specifically historical fiction (when done right), There Will Be Blood superbly captures the time and place that is its focus. As I am not intimately familiar with the rise of the American oil industry as I am with other periods of this nation’s history, the cast and crew provide a compelling look at a pivotal example of the rise of modern American capitalism both in terms of its causes and consequences. But beyond the film’s focus on the oil fields of California, the production design and examination of the characters’ everyday lives offer great insights into the development of early modern America. For anyone with an interest in either of these aspects of our past, There Will Be Blood is worth the watch for that alone. Arguably the best thing about the movie is its themes. I myself am a sucker for stories about the dark side of human nature. In the case of There Will Be Blood, we see the morally bare landscape of American greed, capitalism, and ambition through the eyes of oil baron Daniel Plainview. Furthermore, unlike some movies that attempt and fail to peel back the curtain in this way, P.T. Anderson and the rest of this film’s creative team excel at conceiving a grounded yet entertaining perspective on how far people will go to achieve success, the people they will abuse and backstab to do that, and how, ultimately, such an idea of success is barely success at all. On top of all of these positives, There Will Be Blood has a great cast, cinematography, score, production design…what’s NOT to like about this film?!? The Cons While there is virtually nothing that I dislike about There Will Be Blood, I can see why certain elements of the film would turn others off. First off, the two-and-a-half-hour runtime that worked for me could end up making other viewers feel burdened or put off. It does not feel slow to me, but viewers not captivated by Plainview’s greed-drive downward spiral to the brink of insanity will almost certainly feel otherwise. In addition, the film offers no optimistic take on human nature or American society at large. Again, for me this makes ground for interesting storytelling but other viewers really need some injection of hope into the world that Anderson creates in There Will Be Blood in order to enjoy it. And I can see how some people may find the film’s final scene to be both tonally chaotic and just downright pointless. Even though I feel satisfied by the time the credits roll, it is understandable for others to not be. Otherwise, this movie is technically impressive and rich with characterization and an exploration of complex ideas and emotions. I struggle to see how any of these elements could be despised by anyone except if you are someone who simply isn’t a fan of P.T. Anderson (which I do understand for most of his movies). So, what are my final impressions of There Will Be Blood? It is one of the few P.T. Anderson flicks that I find both entertaining and absorbing without being too ostentatious for my liking. And even though it is not my favorite of his films, it is one of the better small-budget, independent films of this century no question. What is your favorite P.T. Anderson film? Do you think There Will Be Blood is genuinely epic or too self-indulgent for its own good? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst Image by Beri Garrett from Pixabay [NOTE: Follow the link here to read “Part One” of this blog.] A few weeks ago, I wrote about several classic movie musicals based on Broadway productions of the same name. To varying degrees, they worked in my eyes. But what about movie musicals not directly adapted from stage shows? Are they as effective at telling stories through song?
That’s what I’m going to try to find out today by examining four more movie musicals. I begin with one of the oldest and most timeless examples of this genre… The Wizard of Oz (1939) Following the success of Walt Disney’s 1937 animated film Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, film studios came to the conclusion that adapting popular children’s books to the silver screen could not only be popular but also profitable. Within months, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer purchased the film rights to L. Frank Baum’s 1900 novel “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.” Baum’s story had been adapted to film before, in a 1925 silent film, which was popular among audiences but largely lambasted by critics at the time. MGM hired several screenwriters to turn in drafts, treatments, outlines, and complete screenplays. Notable contributors were Herman J. Mankiewicz (Citizen Kane) and poet Ogden Nash, but it was the writing efforts of Noel Langley, Florence Ryerson, and Edgar Allan Woolf that ultimately received credit in the final film release. In addition, since the producers at MGM did not think that a contemporary audience could fully accept the land of Oz as an actual place, the idea of making Dorothy’s journey to Oz an elaborate dream sequence was conceived. Well known now is the fact that several actresses were considered for the role of Dorothy, including the most famous child star of the time Shirley Temple, before MGM cast Judy Garland (A Star Is Born, Judgment at Nuremberg). The production also experienced some other casting troubles with Ray Bolger switching roles with Buddy Ebsen to become the Scarecrow, the role he aspired to, going through multiple actors to play the Wizard (from Ed Wynn and W.C. Fields to Wallace Beery) before settling on Frank Morgan, and Jack Haley replace Ebsen as the Tin Man after the latter suffered a severe bronchial reaction to his own make-up. But all of these casting troubles pale in comparison to the issues that Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer faced keeping down a director for the production. When filming began on October 13, 1938, Richard Thorpe (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Jailhouse Rock) was the director (although he had already replaced Norman Taurog who ended up only shooting some early Technicolor tests). Thorpe ended up shooting only nine days of footage before producer Mervyn Leroy reviewed some of his footage and, feeling that his rushing through principal photography was negatively impacting the performances, replaced him with George Cukor (The Philadelphia Story, My Fair Lady). It is under Cukor’s direction (and LeRoy’s advisement) that Judy Garland’s portrayal was altered into what we know today: rather than wearing a blond wig, “baby-doll” makeup and being encouraged to overact, Garland’s makeup and costumes became more grounded and Cukor encouraged Garland to “be herself.” It was also Cukor who first suggested that MGM hire Jack Haley to replace Ebsen as the Tin Man. Cukor ended up not shooting anything for the finished film, instead being more of a creative advisor along with LeRoy, and he left on November 3 to begin directing what would become MGM’s other smash hit of the year: the epic historical romance movie Gone with the Wind. So, MGM brought on Victor Fleming to get principal photography up and running again. Largely due to LeRoy’s apparent satisfaction with his predecessor’s creative insights, Fleming retained much of Cukor’s vision for the aesthetic and storytelling approach of the film. Ironically, Fleming left the production after only a few months to replace Cukor (once again) on Gone with the Wind. Thus, MGM brought in Fleming’s friend, King Vidor, (The Citadel, War and Peace) to finish production. However, until Fleming’s death in 1949, Vidor did not take public credit for his directorial contributions to the movie. After months of intensive, exhaustive principal photography from October to March, The Wizard of Oz premiered in August of 1939 to universal acclaim for its technical achievements, performances, and raw energy. However, during its initial run, the film only grossed three million dollars (considered a financial loss to MGM), and did not make a significant profit until its re-releases in the United States in 1955, 1989, and 2019 allowed the film to gross a total of just under thirty million dollars. Additionally, The Wizard of Oz went on to make its mark on cinema history and popular culture at large. The movie was nominated for five Oscars (including Best Picture), winning Best Original Score and Best Original Song. For her performance, Garland won an Honorary Academy Award as well. Furthermore, it was one of the first 25 films to be preserved by the Library of Congress and has gone on to be viewed by cinephiles and average filmgoers alike as one of the greatest movie musicals of all time. There is little for me to say about The Wizard of Oz that has not already been said. First off, I (like many children over the last several decades) have a distinct memory of seeing the movie for the first time. My grandmother was babysitting me one night when I was pretty young, and to get me to stop crying over my mother leaving me there she put a VHS tape on and sat me in front of the TV. While I certainly do not recall my in-the-moment impressions of The Wizard of Oz, I look back on that memory as confirmation that apparently everybody on planet Earth has seen this movie. Does that make it a great movie? Well…that’s a complicated question. On the one hand, its achievements in cinematography, production design, and music cannot be understated. For its time, The Wizard of Oz was a technical marvel with its seamless transition from sepia-toned black and white to Technicolor and its staggering use of props and sets to invigorate every scene remain (in my humble opinion) the timeless aspects of the film. On the other hand, the story and (for the most part) acting leaves much to be desired for anyone over the age of five. Having re-watched The Wizard of Oz during quarantine last year for the first time in well over a decade, I found Dorothy’s journey from Kansas to Oz and back far from intriguing. While Dorothy herself is charming (thanks to Judy Garland and George Cukor), the cast of fantastical creatures around her are largely uninteresting except when they sing. Which gets to what I think makes this film still resonate with audiences today: the music. Not only are many of the songs fun to listen to (alongside the accompanying choreography and performances), but some of the tracks remain iconic to this day, namely Garland’s performance of “Over the Rainbow.” All in all, The Wizard of Oz is by no means my favorite musical. But as far as old movies go, it certainly is not one of the worst ones. The Lion King (1994) While flying to Europe in 1988 to promote Oliver & Company, Walt Disney film producers and executives Jeffrey Katzenberg, Peter Schneider, and Roy E. Disney (nephew of Walt Disney) conceived the idea of an animated movie set in Africa. Over the next several years, the studio commissioned treatments by writers such as Thomas M. Disch (The Genocides, Camp Concentration) and Linda Woolverton (Beauty and the Beast, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey) and directors George Scribner (Oliver & Company) and Roger Allers (Open Season, The Prophet) were brought onto the project. Along with their creative team, Allers and Scribner traveled to Hell’s Gate National Park in Kenya to help them further develop the nature-inspired aesthetic for the film. But after six months of work, Scribner left the production due to creative differences with Allers and was replaced by Rob Minkoff (Stuart Little, Mr. Peabody & Sherman) as co-director. After Don Hahn (Beauty and the Beast, The Emperor’s New Groove) was brought on as a producer, the film’s story took on many of the characteristics that would define it as a classic. Specifically, the themes of facing the realities of adulthood were injected into the script and the final title was chosen to replace the working title, King of the Jungle, since the story took place on the African savannah rather than in a jungle. Furthermore, the brother relationship between Mufasa and Scar was developed to make the central thematic conflict of the film more absorbing from a dramatic standpoint. After several hundred artists and animators spent several years on the production, The Lion King premiered in June of 1994 and went on to gross over 950 million dollars, becoming the highest-grossing, traditionally-animated film of all time and the highest-grossing movie of the year. While it was received widespread critical acclaim, the movie did get some criticism for its rushed third act and off-kilter tonal blend of tragedy and musical-comedy. The film also won two Academy Awards (Best Original Score for Hans Zimmer and Best Original Song for Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”). Not only did The Lion King spawn a franchise of two direct-to-video films (a sequel and a prequel) and a CGI remake from Jon Favreau (Iron Man, Chef, The Jungle Book), but it ended up being preserved by the Library of Congress in 2016. Similar to Grease, I grew up with The Lion King. It was one of the VHS tapes I owned and would watch quite frequently throughout much of my childhood (perhaps second only to the Star Wars films). And in all of its glory, from the characters and visuals to the soundtrack, the movie remains forever cemented in my memory as a staple of my young life. Similar to The Wizard of Oz, I have no doubt that this is the case for many children from my generation. Having gone back and watched The Lion King in 2019, it somehow exceeded my expectations for how good it was going to be. Honestly, it will be easier to start by outlining what little criticisms that I have which mostly relate to the story structure. I actually agree with critics from the time of its release that the movie’s third act (specifically Simba’s confrontation of Scar) feels pretty rushed. It almost seems like the production staff ran out of money and just cut an extra five minutes of animation (possible considering Disney’s lack of faith in the film during production). And that’s pretty much it. I love virtually everything else about this movie. HOW COULD YOU NOT?!? The opening sequence is both iconic in every sense of the word and a precursor for the rest of the movie’s breathtaking animation style. The performances are all fantastic, from the stately and wise yet ignorant Mufasa (James Earl Jones), the headstrong and arrogant Simba (Jonathan Taylor Thomas/Matthew Broderick), the menacing, power-hungry Scar (Jeremy Irons), the warm and confident Nala (Niketa Calame/Moira Kelly), the zany henchmen trio of hyenas (Whoopi Goldberg, Cheech Marin, and Jim Cummings), and the indelibly charming pair of best friends Timon and Pumbaa (Nathan Lane and Ernie Sabella). Furthermore, the story’s exploration of deeply engaging themes via compelling tragedy between father and son makes The Lion King one of the greatest examples of a “kids movie made for adults.” Of course, the most amazing thing about The Lion King is the music. Virtually every song on the soundtrack is iconic both in the world of cinema and the world of musicals, from “The Circle of Life” and “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King” to “Hakuna Matata” and “Can You Feel the Love Tonight.” From my research about the making of this film, I was shocked to learn that George Scriber, the original co-director alongside Roger Allers, protested making the story a musical due to his preference for a more grounded, nature-focused animated feature. Hindsight is 20/20, I suppose. Needless to say, The Lion King is one of my favorite animated films of all time. And it might just be my favorite musical ever made. 😊 La La Land (2016) Long before making his mark in the world of cinema with 2014’s Whiplash, writer-director Damien Chazelle wrote a script for a musical in 2010 while a student at Harvard University because he wanted to “ground” the musical in the real world “where things don’t always exactly work out.” Chazelle also wanted to pay tribute to the “city symphony” films of the 1920s by shooting a movie that captures the distinct, unique vibe of Los Angeles. Initially, Chazelle received pushback from studios who were unwilling to finance the project. In addition to Chazelle’s anonymity at the time, they also saw funding an original music without any familiar songs as very risky. However, after the critical commercial success of Chazelle’s film Whiplash (which ended up earning five Oscar nominations that year, including Best Picture), Chazelle found that studios had renewed interest in his movie-musical script. Chazelle initially had cast Miles Teller (The Spectacular Now, Thank You for Your Service) and Emma Watson (The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Beauty and the Beast), but after both actors left the project, the director embraced the idea of looking for older replacements to explore the idea of the two main characters having experienced struggling for their dreams as opposed to young upstarts fresh to the Los Angeles scene. Ultimately, Chazelle cast Emma Stone (Zombieland, Birdman, The Favourite) and Ryan Gosling (Drive, The Big Short, Blade Runner 2049) were cast in the lead roles. After months shooting the film and another year spent editing, La La Land premiered at several film festivals over the course of the summer and fall of 2016 before its wide release on December 9, becoming one of the highest-grossing live-action musicals of the 21st century and receiving a tying record 14 nominations at that year’s Academy Awards (winning six, including Best Director and Best Actress for Stone). Despite my love of Chazelle’s other films Whiplash and First Man, I was skeptical about La La Land when I sat down to watch it. I had heard only great things about it, yet I was convinced from the trailer that it was just a narcissistic, self-righteous love letter to old Hollywood and artists. Fortunately, I was proven wrong when I watched it. There are many things to like about La La Land: the actors, the songs, the energy of the music and choreography, the cinematography and how it captures the glamour and grime of Los Angeles. But there is one thing about this movie that I love more than anything else: Chazelle’s grounded, realistic take on the musical romance. By telling a story about two young struggling artists, Mia (Stone) and Sebastian (Gosling), falling out of love as they step onto separate paths in life, Chazelle pays respectful homage to the movie musicals of old while reinventing the genre for modern sensibilities. More than anything, I am grateful to Chazelle and La La Land for making a movie musical that excels at this balancing act without losing the integrity of his artistic vision. For this reason, among others, this film is one of my favorite movie musicals bar none. A Star Is Born (2018) There were plans for a four adaptation of the 1937 film A Star Is Born as far back as the 1990s, but after several different actors and directors were attached the project was eventually shelved. It was not until 2015 that Warner Brothers confirmed that Bradley Cooper (Wedding Crashers, The Hangover, Silver Linings Playbook) was finalizing a deal to be the adaptation’s director and potential male lead. Cooper ended up refusing an upfront salary in order to get the film financed, ultimately earning nearly 40 million dollars for his role in the production both in front of and behind the camera. A year later, it was confirmed that Grammy-winning singer/songwriter Lady Gaga was cast as the female lead in Cooper’s adaptation, with actor Sam Elliott (Tombstone, The Big Lebowski) and comedians Andrew Dice Clay and Dave Chapelle being announced as part of the cast in 2017. Principal photography began in April of that year, and the film premiered at the Venice Film Festival on August 31, 2018 before having its wide domestic release in October that year. A Star Is Born ended up bearing over 400 million dollars on a 36-million-dollar budget and gained widespread critical acclaim, focusing largely on the acting and musical performances, and wound up on multiple top-ten lists that year. Additionally, the film garnered eight Oscar nominations that year (including Best Picture and three acting nods for Cooper, Gaga and Elliott), but won only Best Original Song for “Shallow.” I vividly remember my experience seeing A Star Is Born in the theater over two years ago. From start to finish, I was thoroughly engaged and emotionally absorbed thanks to Cooper’s sensible direction and his chemistry with Lady Gaga from the moment they lay eyes on each other. Undoubtedly, this movie is the least cheesy of any of the movie musicals I have blogged about thus far. In fact, the film is often tonally the opposite: dark, nuanced, cynical, and grounded in the grim of reality. I can perhaps compare it to most to the 2014 romantic drama Beyond the Lights from director Gina-Prince Bythewood in that it explores the negative consequences of stardom on a relationship. However, unlike that movie which focuses on the blooming romance of a young celebrity singer and an everyman, A Star Is Born adds a complex layer into the story by contrasting Jackson Maine (Cooper), the washed-up country star, with Ally (Lady Gaga) whose star becomes too bright and outshines Jackson which indirectly leads to his personal and professional downfall. This is perhaps my favorite aspect of the movie. Similar to how La La Land elegantly balances old-school movie musical cheese with a realistic portrayal of young love, A Star Is Born expertly portrays the destructive atmosphere of 21st century fame while also offering a glimmer of hope in showing the positive influence that such a self-destructive person can have on someone else. Not only is the movie one of my all-time favorite musicals, but it remains one of my favorite films of this century (and perhaps of all time). So, why do I like musicals so much? Ultimately, my affection for this genre of cinema has a lot to do with Kristin Chenoweth’s quote from Part One of this blog: “We sing because we can’t speak anymore.” Perhaps some universal ideas about the human condition are best conveyed through song. Certainly, some musicals like West Side Story and The Wizard of Oz struggle to escape the inherent cheesiness of the genre because they rely on song and dance to address themes such as interracial gang violence and the end of childhood. Other musicals, from Fiddler on the Roof and The Lion King to La La Land and A Star Is Born, are only propelled by their use of music in their insights about love, guilt, family, tradition, and tragedy. Or maybe I’m just being my typical, overanalytical self and should just remind myself: “Hakuna Matata.” 😊 With all that being said, here is my ranking of the eight musical films that I have discussed in both Part One and Part Two of this blog:
What is your favorite movie musical? Do you think musicals work as well as I think they do? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst |
Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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