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.
October 13, 2009
E M Forster
Morgan: A Biography of E.M. Forster is a fascinating book in which Nicola Beauman assesses in great details how life and fiction were interwoven, or how the former informs the great novels. I am not sure I am entirely convinced by the argument, but a good read it certainly is.
As a result, I decided to revisit his novels (though the only novel I remember reading was Where Angels Fear to Tread, which I found 'difficult' in my university days, and thus probably put me off from his other works - even if they were available back in the mid-1980s in a university library that was strong on 'classics' but weak on anything contemporary). While this needs some organising and input, I have taken the easier option of revisiting the film adaptations to start with.
Thanks to August, an anglophile, I have watched all of the film adaptations, mostly when they were broadcast on a Hong Kong English channel, back in the 1990s. Some of them, A Room with A View and Maurice to be exact, proved to be so popular, that they were shown a number of times on this channel. It came as a real disappointment therefore that both of them are under 'restricted viewing' list in the national library. Having been disappointed many times by the censors here, it is no surprise that Maurice is under this category, but A Room with A View?! There seems to be no logic in it at all.
And so I watched Howards End again last night, which, apart from the two lead actress in it, I could barely remember much from my previous viewing in China. I remain immensely grateful therefore to the biography.
As a result, I decided to revisit his novels (though the only novel I remember reading was Where Angels Fear to Tread, which I found 'difficult' in my university days, and thus probably put me off from his other works - even if they were available back in the mid-1980s in a university library that was strong on 'classics' but weak on anything contemporary). While this needs some organising and input, I have taken the easier option of revisiting the film adaptations to start with.
Thanks to August, an anglophile, I have watched all of the film adaptations, mostly when they were broadcast on a Hong Kong English channel, back in the 1990s. Some of them, A Room with A View and Maurice to be exact, proved to be so popular, that they were shown a number of times on this channel. It came as a real disappointment therefore that both of them are under 'restricted viewing' list in the national library. Having been disappointed many times by the censors here, it is no surprise that Maurice is under this category, but A Room with A View?! There seems to be no logic in it at all.
And so I watched Howards End again last night, which, apart from the two lead actress in it, I could barely remember much from my previous viewing in China. I remain immensely grateful therefore to the biography.
October 07, 2009
Judex
I cannot believe what I have just done: to watch yet another multi-episodes film from Louis Feuillade.
Made in 1917, Judex still has all the rough edges and chaotic excitements of his last two, but lessons have been learnt, especially in tightening the narrative. The result? A much more satisfactory experience in that the structure and devices resemble those of the contemporary ones and the plots are certainly more logical and tight.
The Louis Feuillade seemed a true pioneer: if Fantomas is a thriller which refuses to settle on who is the monster Fantomas; Les Vampires launching a new genre that continue to inspire many; then Judex is one that pioneers the Superhero genre. And of course like all his works, it also gives us fascinating insight into the taste and fashion of its day.
It lasts for 5.5 hours, but there is not a bored moment.
Made in 1917, Judex still has all the rough edges and chaotic excitements of his last two, but lessons have been learnt, especially in tightening the narrative. The result? A much more satisfactory experience in that the structure and devices resemble those of the contemporary ones and the plots are certainly more logical and tight.
The Louis Feuillade seemed a true pioneer: if Fantomas is a thriller which refuses to settle on who is the monster Fantomas; Les Vampires launching a new genre that continue to inspire many; then Judex is one that pioneers the Superhero genre. And of course like all his works, it also gives us fascinating insight into the taste and fashion of its day.
It lasts for 5.5 hours, but there is not a bored moment.
October 01, 2009
Sidney Poitier and For love of Ivy
I had picked this one from the shelf because of Sidney Poitier. Probably one of the most elegant man in the world, his performance in In the Heat of the Night, just a year before this one he co-wrote, was immaculate. Together with his two other films, also made in 1967, Sidney established himself as one of the best of actors. I had high hope for both the film and his performance in For Love of Ivy.
I don't think he had let me down in terms of performance as an actor, but the script could certainly be much improved if he or those around him were not so anxious to project a role model for the black community. The protagonist was not exactly those impecable ones as in the three films made in the height of his career, 1967, (including: To Sir, with Love; Guess Who is Coming for Dinner), but still the script-writers appeared too timid and rather reluctant to go beyond the 'an admirable hero with flaws' definition and I also found his co-star, the stylish Abbey Lincoln too well-groomed for a maid whose only ambition was to become a secretary (because she knew not what else she wanted). The normal/tight control of the Hollywood machine was at work, though it was not of Sidney's doing, it did make this particular film rather flat, contrived and lacking in edges. The follow up was an anti-climax.
I don't think he had let me down in terms of performance as an actor, but the script could certainly be much improved if he or those around him were not so anxious to project a role model for the black community. The protagonist was not exactly those impecable ones as in the three films made in the height of his career, 1967, (including: To Sir, with Love; Guess Who is Coming for Dinner), but still the script-writers appeared too timid and rather reluctant to go beyond the 'an admirable hero with flaws' definition and I also found his co-star, the stylish Abbey Lincoln too well-groomed for a maid whose only ambition was to become a secretary (because she knew not what else she wanted). The normal/tight control of the Hollywood machine was at work, though it was not of Sidney's doing, it did make this particular film rather flat, contrived and lacking in edges. The follow up was an anti-climax.
September 29, 2009
À nous la liberté
This film by Rene Clair had got a lot of iconic and even comic moments: the prison scene where prisoners were sitting along a long table making models/toys under the suspicious eyes of the prison guards; the many grim factory sequences where workers clocked at the gate, queued up for their shifts; the interior of the factory that bored striking resemblance to that of a prison; the assembly line that kept workers working around the clock; the scene where everybody was trying to grab a big note blowing in the wind; the final shot where the two prison friends found themselves on the road again, having lost everything that belonged to them - dreams, a good life, and the prospect of a home. The film closed on an apparently a sad note, but with their love for a good tune and their appetite for a good laugh, they also seemed the happiest of all human kind.
Made in 1931 when sound was at its infantry, it was fascinating to see how directors then faced up the challenge of sound. In this case, the not so immaculate use of sound actually enhanced its rough charm. The prolong quiet moments interrupted by unexpected dialogues and music usually brought constant surprises as no clues were given as to when/whether there would be a song or a dislogue!
The real shock came when I read the plagiarism charge brought by its producer to the silent movie classic Modern Times, for it was then I realised why those iconic comic scenes seemed so vaguely familiar - although of course, this one was made a few years earlier than the Modern Times... If Charles Chaplin was indeed innocent, then it was a real wonder how close sometimes people's ideas were. Modern Times might be more funny for its gags, but I am most impressed by how fresh À nous la liberté is even today.
Made in 1931 when sound was at its infantry, it was fascinating to see how directors then faced up the challenge of sound. In this case, the not so immaculate use of sound actually enhanced its rough charm. The prolong quiet moments interrupted by unexpected dialogues and music usually brought constant surprises as no clues were given as to when/whether there would be a song or a dislogue!
The real shock came when I read the plagiarism charge brought by its producer to the silent movie classic Modern Times, for it was then I realised why those iconic comic scenes seemed so vaguely familiar - although of course, this one was made a few years earlier than the Modern Times... If Charles Chaplin was indeed innocent, then it was a real wonder how close sometimes people's ideas were. Modern Times might be more funny for its gags, but I am most impressed by how fresh À nous la liberté is even today.
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