I have watched one film by Liza Minnelli (Cabaret), but none by her parents, Judy Garland and Vincente Minnilli, that is, until yesterday. The Clock was the first film Judy Garland did not sing in and I was happily surprised by its quality and her rather subtle and mature acting.
The Clock interests me mostly though for its 'noises', what was put in 'outside' the main story, namely that of New York city and the people in the street. Joe (played by the young Robert Walker) the soldier was a stranger in the big apple and he was lost there in his 48 hours' leave. In his chance encounters with various people in the street, decent allocation of time was given on the passing individuals who had no consequence on the main events. One of such passersby was a milkman who was on his way for his night shift and offered them a lift and through him, a glimpse of the sleeping city, including a virtuosos performance of a drunkard. Another was a chef in a restaurant after the 'ugly' wedding of the protagonists. He picked a table right next to theirs and during the whole course, he was framed right in the middle of the screen between the two protagonists, rendering his facial expression - that of curious, disdaining and puzzling - the central backdrop of the whole scenario. Such distracting 'noises' added casual but rich and interesting texture to the film, contributing to making the film organic.
Having seen Robert Walker only in Strangers on the Train, I had tried very hard to discern if there was any trace of that character in The Clock and I have to report that yes, but only if you tried very hard - at which point it was questionable if it was induced more by my imagination. I had no answer to that but very sad to read that by The Clock, he had already turned into an alcoholic triggered by the disintegration of his marriage to a Jones, who would become the leading lady of Hollywood for nearly a decade despite her moderate talents.
I am not completely sure now if the fleeting sadness and melancholy on his face was due to his real life event or the character.
June 18, 2009
June 17, 2009
Les Cinema de Michel Legrand
I had wanted something light, easy but outstanding last Sunday when I went about my Sunday routine and I found myself reaching the shelf for the 4-CD album Les Cinema de Michel Legrand. It did the trick instantly and for the next four hours or so I was embraced by some of the greatest soundtracks which filled the room with sweet nostagia on a lazy sunny day.
Although I had listened to this album with the booklet in my hand for more than once, for many a moments I still had the urge to check out what was actually being played, or to be exact, which film it was on. The soundtracks were all scored in a short spin of just four years, 1959 to 1963, for a staggering 72 films, and at times, they did sound rather similar to each other, especially those in CD 1 to 3. But this is more a test to my memory and a downside of listening to them all in one go rather than their individual quality.
It was a weird experience when, on one hand, you seemed to know every twist of the score by heart, but on the other, you barely knew anything about the film for which the score was written. And sometimes this could even lead to disappointment. Summer of '42 is a case in point. For years this could easily be one of my favourite tunes, so imagine my excitement when I found the film and the sheer disappointment afterwards!
Luckily though it was not always just disappointment. Coincidentally for instance, I found The Umbrellas of Cherbourg in the library last Saturday and when I put it on the DVD player two days later - it felt as if I was reuniting with some childhood friends when the theme song was coming out from the mouths of the protagonists. Because that was also the first time I understood what the lyrics were about, it felt rather strange as if I had been kept from a heartbroken secret of the dear friend from childhood! It was not a feeling of being cheated but it was certainly a pure magic that we could embrace something without knowing its context or meaning.
I always thought that I have a 'natural' dislike of the genre musical, but I really liked the lighthearted The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and think the whole film was done beautifully, from the performance, characterisation, use of bright colours, to its simple (deliberately kept?) uncomplicated story, and of course, to its music. Though it was part of a trilogy, I like it better than its predecessor Lola, which was referred to by a character, probably because of the leading actress was more convincing, 'natural' and lovable in the Umbrellas.
It is amazing that such a simple story could work so well and unpretentious on screen. And I believe this has a lot to do with the magic touch French directors are capable of.
Although I had listened to this album with the booklet in my hand for more than once, for many a moments I still had the urge to check out what was actually being played, or to be exact, which film it was on. The soundtracks were all scored in a short spin of just four years, 1959 to 1963, for a staggering 72 films, and at times, they did sound rather similar to each other, especially those in CD 1 to 3. But this is more a test to my memory and a downside of listening to them all in one go rather than their individual quality.
It was a weird experience when, on one hand, you seemed to know every twist of the score by heart, but on the other, you barely knew anything about the film for which the score was written. And sometimes this could even lead to disappointment. Summer of '42 is a case in point. For years this could easily be one of my favourite tunes, so imagine my excitement when I found the film and the sheer disappointment afterwards!
Luckily though it was not always just disappointment. Coincidentally for instance, I found The Umbrellas of Cherbourg in the library last Saturday and when I put it on the DVD player two days later - it felt as if I was reuniting with some childhood friends when the theme song was coming out from the mouths of the protagonists. Because that was also the first time I understood what the lyrics were about, it felt rather strange as if I had been kept from a heartbroken secret of the dear friend from childhood! It was not a feeling of being cheated but it was certainly a pure magic that we could embrace something without knowing its context or meaning.
I always thought that I have a 'natural' dislike of the genre musical, but I really liked the lighthearted The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and think the whole film was done beautifully, from the performance, characterisation, use of bright colours, to its simple (deliberately kept?) uncomplicated story, and of course, to its music. Though it was part of a trilogy, I like it better than its predecessor Lola, which was referred to by a character, probably because of the leading actress was more convincing, 'natural' and lovable in the Umbrellas.
It is amazing that such a simple story could work so well and unpretentious on screen. And I believe this has a lot to do with the magic touch French directors are capable of.
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