When I saw the title, I had expected it to be the musical journey of Roxy Music. I was rather disappointed therefore while half way through, it was still not getting there. I was thinking at several points that if I were the author, I would have be discussing the emerging music scene around that time, or at least a brief summary of it, to give the claim of Roxy Music's 'uniqueness' a more solid musical context. But apparently, this was not what the author had in mind.
But what makes the book less an great read is some of the claims repeatedly made by the author. Well, we all know Roxy Music, don't we? But some of the claims made need more evidence to prove.
The book however is nevertheless a great read, especially if we could adjust our expectation a bit. It is like an oral history that tries to trace the coming into being of an musician who practised the idea of creating pop art in every aspect of it, leading the way of performer being an artistic product in its own overall presentation.
Having recently read a biography of a woodcarver from the 18th century North East England, which includes a good description of the region, the first chapter in the Re-Make/Re-Model feels like a continuation of that discussion, albeit with a jump of two decades. The chapters on the artistic scene in both Reading and London are interesting as well, and provide a lot of historical and cultrual context of the era of great changes.
As my boss is a great fan of Bryan Ferry and hence we would be listening to him 'dancing away his pain' always every few days through her mini speakers connected to her iPod. It was a shock therefore when I played my collection of Roxy Music, and found that it was not until their third album was on that I started to recognise some of its tunes, and their Avalon before I heard all the hits coming out from my boss's iPod.
Listening to them chronologically did seem to prove some of the points critics have made: with the departure of Eno soon after album no 2, how the band had gradually become less avert garde and more of a personal project of leader Bryan Ferry, and by Avalon, the complete merge of the two: a Roxy Music project and his own personal vision/style.
Critics haven't been particularly kind to Bryan's sole project, and my experience of watching his performance in Opera House in Newcastle six or seven years ago with an overcrowded stage packed with 'sexy babes' had more or less damaged his image as a cool artist when you listen to his 'mannered' voice through sound system only. Since the book finishes at the point soon after the release of their first album and the arrival of fame, it has not shed much light on the transformation of the last three decades of an 'artist' who appeared to be leading a musical/artistic revolution of the late 1960s and early 1970s. But what the book has achieved is no small feat nevertheless, though I would have appreciated it a lot more if those interviewed were not so self-important at some points.
December 25, 2009
December 21, 2009
Satyajit Ray
The first half an hour is sluggish, and probably because it looks like a black and white melodrama, it reminds me of some of the classics of the first blossom of Chinese cinema, that of the melodramas made in the 1930s to 1940s. But gradually the film picks up its pace and it begins to make sense especially from the point where the husband finds himself losing his job and no longer in the position to dictate his wife's future. The Big City is an incredible film in that it depicts with vivid and acute details in everyday life the shift of power of gender in the family. The performance by the young and gorgeous Madhabi Mukherjee is simply great with her magic transformation from a timid house-bound wife who relies on her husband for nearly everything to that of a woman who dare to stand up to her boss for a fellow saleswoman/competitor.
If Madhabi Mukherjee proves herself to be capable of a starring role on her own right, then The Lonely Wife seems to testify even further that with a good script and a good director, she can carry the film entirely on her own strength as an actress.
But the merit of The Lonely Wife is not just the supreme performance from that of a great actress in her creative peak, a good script and wonderful direction, it is a supreme work as a whole, whichever aspect one chooses to focus on: cinematography, the proms, etc. The scene in the garden, a rare one taken from outside the confine of a upper class house, is one of the most poignant. An apparently overgrown and neglected place, it is however a romantic and beautiful place that seems to be full of potentials, like the heroine who is sadly neglected by the husband and fits in the words corned by husband, 'idle rich'. Leading a self-contained life that awaits for something to happen or to be discovered, she is suddenly transformed into a lively woman that is capable of just anything.
I must have watched no less than three films from Satyajit Ray, but it is the three films grouped together in the first volume of his collected works that won me over. It proves that one shall never give up exploring old and new 'territories'.
If Madhabi Mukherjee proves herself to be capable of a starring role on her own right, then The Lonely Wife seems to testify even further that with a good script and a good director, she can carry the film entirely on her own strength as an actress.
But the merit of The Lonely Wife is not just the supreme performance from that of a great actress in her creative peak, a good script and wonderful direction, it is a supreme work as a whole, whichever aspect one chooses to focus on: cinematography, the proms, etc. The scene in the garden, a rare one taken from outside the confine of a upper class house, is one of the most poignant. An apparently overgrown and neglected place, it is however a romantic and beautiful place that seems to be full of potentials, like the heroine who is sadly neglected by the husband and fits in the words corned by husband, 'idle rich'. Leading a self-contained life that awaits for something to happen or to be discovered, she is suddenly transformed into a lively woman that is capable of just anything.
I must have watched no less than three films from Satyajit Ray, but it is the three films grouped together in the first volume of his collected works that won me over. It proves that one shall never give up exploring old and new 'territories'.
December 07, 2009
Repast
Another film by Mikio Naruse, this time though, not starring his favourite actress Hideko Takemine with whom he had made some of his best, but by Ozu's default lead lady Setsuko Hara, who epitomised the 'ideal woman' in Ozu's masterpieces.
Filmed at the prime of her career, Hara looks every bit as elegant and charming under Ozu, and the character she takes on attractes admiration on her appearance from everybody across the board. However, the look is where the similarities ends. In the world of Ozu, whatever roles she plays, she is that traditional woman; a subordinate on all accounts, whose sole purpose of life is to make everybody around her happy, even at her own expenses. She might have her own thoughts and ideas but she would almost always supress it if it conflicts with those of the others, especially that of her immediate family. Whatever happens, she accepts her fate with a smile and cries of her own pain only when no-one is around.
In Repast however, we encounter a woman who dares to question what she can get out of a life as a housewife. After five years marriage, she finds herself worn out by the domestic drudgery imposed on a housewife, and worse still, her husband does not only never help out at home, but prefers his newspaper than engaging in a conversation with her. While she is making sacrifice to keep the book balanced, her husband takes advance payment to sponsor his selfish niece's fancy daydream when she pays an uninvited visit and overstays her welcome.
Unlike any of the women played by Hara in Ozu's films, Hara's character in Repast decides enough is enough and returns to her native Tokyo to think things through, to seek opportunities and employment, leaving her salaryman husband to look after himself.
The film gets very interesting indeed at this point, not only because it is by then rather clear that her handsome and much better-off cousin is one of her longtime admirers, but more importantly, a woman's voice is heard, raising a very interesting question; where her place should be, that of a self-fulfillment at workplace or tied to the kitchen sink for the rest of her life.
The film however ends with her train journey back home with her husband snoring by her side, accompanied by her voiceover that her happiness is to make her husband happy, because after all, he has been 'bravely' working everyday in order to maintain their home. Given that chance of employment for women seems rather grim, and that her mother's home is in fact not as welcoming as she has anticipated, returning to her husband seems to be the only option for an unemployed married woman. But the ending nevertheless seems too abrupt and too ready to succumb to the convention of the time.
The film was made in 1951, a time when Japan was still struck by extreme poverty after the defeat during the Second World War. What the ending would be if the film was remade?
PS: it has been argued that Naruse and Ozu were rather similar in their approaches at their early careers, but their mature works could not be more different. And indeed, although Ozu has always fixed his camera on the domestic world, Ozu never let it enter the kitchen, and has therefore deprived us any slim chance of learning about the hard labour behind a polished home. In Repast however, Hara is filmed for a number of times as working in the dingy and small kitchen, highlighting her misery as a housewife of a salaryman. The same Hara therefore has a very different experience in Naruse's film from that of the Ozu's.
Filmed at the prime of her career, Hara looks every bit as elegant and charming under Ozu, and the character she takes on attractes admiration on her appearance from everybody across the board. However, the look is where the similarities ends. In the world of Ozu, whatever roles she plays, she is that traditional woman; a subordinate on all accounts, whose sole purpose of life is to make everybody around her happy, even at her own expenses. She might have her own thoughts and ideas but she would almost always supress it if it conflicts with those of the others, especially that of her immediate family. Whatever happens, she accepts her fate with a smile and cries of her own pain only when no-one is around.
In Repast however, we encounter a woman who dares to question what she can get out of a life as a housewife. After five years marriage, she finds herself worn out by the domestic drudgery imposed on a housewife, and worse still, her husband does not only never help out at home, but prefers his newspaper than engaging in a conversation with her. While she is making sacrifice to keep the book balanced, her husband takes advance payment to sponsor his selfish niece's fancy daydream when she pays an uninvited visit and overstays her welcome.
Unlike any of the women played by Hara in Ozu's films, Hara's character in Repast decides enough is enough and returns to her native Tokyo to think things through, to seek opportunities and employment, leaving her salaryman husband to look after himself.
The film gets very interesting indeed at this point, not only because it is by then rather clear that her handsome and much better-off cousin is one of her longtime admirers, but more importantly, a woman's voice is heard, raising a very interesting question; where her place should be, that of a self-fulfillment at workplace or tied to the kitchen sink for the rest of her life.
The film however ends with her train journey back home with her husband snoring by her side, accompanied by her voiceover that her happiness is to make her husband happy, because after all, he has been 'bravely' working everyday in order to maintain their home. Given that chance of employment for women seems rather grim, and that her mother's home is in fact not as welcoming as she has anticipated, returning to her husband seems to be the only option for an unemployed married woman. But the ending nevertheless seems too abrupt and too ready to succumb to the convention of the time.
The film was made in 1951, a time when Japan was still struck by extreme poverty after the defeat during the Second World War. What the ending would be if the film was remade?
PS: it has been argued that Naruse and Ozu were rather similar in their approaches at their early careers, but their mature works could not be more different. And indeed, although Ozu has always fixed his camera on the domestic world, Ozu never let it enter the kitchen, and has therefore deprived us any slim chance of learning about the hard labour behind a polished home. In Repast however, Hara is filmed for a number of times as working in the dingy and small kitchen, highlighting her misery as a housewife of a salaryman. The same Hara therefore has a very different experience in Naruse's film from that of the Ozu's.
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