The Screengrab : stephen sondheim

Summerfest '08: "Smiles of a Summer Night"

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 19:45:00 GMT

Our goal here at the Screengrab for the Summerfest '08 feature is to give you a dozen or so movies, all of which have "summer" in the title, which you can watch to no great pain while you are waiting for your dog to bring back the tennis ball you threw in the ocean. Unsurprisingly, most movies with the word "summer" in the title – and, indeed, most movies that are about summer, or are set during the summer, or are released during the summer, or in any way have the lemonade-and-sunscreen scent of summer about them, are pretty light, fluffy concoctions, spilling over with good will, gentle humor, and people wearing far less clothing than they normally would. Today, though, is different. Today we'll be featuring a movie by none other than Ingmar freakin' Bergman. Bergman: the man who single-handedly inspired Woody Allen to become a huge bummer. Bergman: the man whose most famous film involves a dying knight playing a desperate game of chess with the personification of Death itself. Bergman: the man whose very name is synonymous with incredibly heavy European art cinema. Could this man possibly direct a breezy summer movie (or, in this case, a breezy sommar movie)? Could this man, whose movies are stuffed with miserable families, emotional trauma, and metaphysical turmoil, give us, of all things, a fun little comedy?

Grab a chilled bottle of Svedka, book your tickets on Scandinavian Airlines, and join us for some Smiles of a Summer Night!

THE ACTION: Meet Frederik Egerman. He's a Swedish attorney and self-involved clothes horse with a gorgeous teenage wife named Anne. There's one problem with their marriage: they haven't consummated it yet. Meet his son (from a previous marriage) Henrik, a recent graduate from divinity school, who faces a serious impediment to entering the priesthood: he's got a big hard-on for his stepmother Anne – and since she's off-limits, he's carrying on an affair with Petra, his father's maid. Meet Desirée Armfeldt, an actress that Frederik used to have a crush on and who is seriously envied by Anne. She lets it be known that she has feelings for Frederik, which pisses Anne off to no end. Desirée is currently seeing another well-off fop named Carl-Magnus Malcolm, whose wife, Charlotte, is a good friend of Anne. Are you following all this? No? Good. We weren't either, to be perfectly honest with you. Just take our word for it that wacky hijinks and hilarity are bound to ensue.

THE PLAYERS: Hard as it is to believe, Smiles of a Summer Night – which plays, alternately, like an Oscar Wilde comedy of manners and a more subdued, highbrow version of Three's Company – was written and directed by none other than Ingmar Bergman, the grand old man of highly cerebral and incredibly depressing Swedish art films. The movie that started out as Sommarnattens Leende isn't exactly the strongest film in his oeuvre, aesthetically speaking, and tonally, it's a bit jarring to think that this is what he produced just prior to making the deep, masterful The Seventh Seal. Still, despite its novelty value as a light, sunny comedy – or perhaps because of it – it's become a favorite of Bergmanophiles the world over, with Woody Allen essentially rewriting it as A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy and Stephen Sondheim launching his own adaptation with A Little Night Music. The 1955 production (set, uncharacteristically for Bergman at the time, in a contemporary milieu) also features an all-star cast of the director's favorite actors, including the legendary Gunnar Björnstrand, Bibi Andersson, Harriet Andersson, and Ulla Jacobsson.

SUMMER FUN: Generally speaking, there isn't a lot of summer fun in Ingmar Bergman movies. Sure, characters sometimes go to the beach, but it's usually to have nervous breakdowns, sexually traumatic encounters, or existential crises stemming from their incestuous affairs. They don't got to drink banana daiquiris and snap each other with towels. While Smiles of a Summer Night is, indeed, based during the four days of the calendar year that pass for summer in Scandinavia, it's frightfully low on frat-boy hijinks and authority figures falling into swimming pools. There is a certain element of summer fun, but it's typical Bergmanesque stuff for the overeducated clove-smokers in the back row: going to the opera, falling into mud puddles, and having ever so delightful romantic misunderstandings.

HAWAIIAN SHIRTS: Despite its contemporary (well, contemporary for Sweden in the mid-1950s) setting and alleged comic tone, there is not a Hawaiian shirt anywhere to be found in Smiles of a Summer Night. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that there is not a Hawaiian shirt anywhere in any of the films of Ingmar Bergman. Given that the two main characters are unrepentant fops, it is likely that if they were to even encounter someone wearing a Hawaiian shirt, they would have him arrested and imprisoned. The closest anyone in a Bergman movie comes to wearing a Hawaiian shirt is when Max Von Sydow dresses up in a gaudy Fu-Manchu-from-Mars getup in Flash Gordon. And, just to head this question off at the pass, assume that there are no scenes where people do body shots as Boston plays over a CD jukebox.

BIKINI PARTY TIME: There's no denying that Sommarnattens Leende is stuffed with beautiful women. Although its approach to sexuality is pretty strait-laced (not surprising for the times, but it's a bit mild for Bergman), the ladies are lovely to look at, especially Ulla Jacobsson as Anne and Eva Dahlbeck as Desirée. However – and I do not wish to alarm you here, but it is my duty as a movie reviewer to tell the unvarnished truth, no matter how unpleasant – there is not a single bikini in the entire movie. This would be inexcusable enough in what is essentially a romantic summer comedy, but lest we forget, this movie was made in Sweden – the home of the world-famous Swedish Bikini Team! Despite this inexcusable lapse (what, Bergman couldn't have gotten one lousy off-season Bikini Team member to play the maid or something?), we'd still recommend this uncharacteristic but rewarding film by the master of Swedish cinema; if nothing else, it'll help you feel smarter and classier after a viewing of Summer Catch.

DVD Digest for April 1, 2008

Paul Clark — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 14:00:00 GMT

In a slow week for new DVDs, there are no real world-beaters being released today. However, there are a number of solid picks for movie lovers of various stripes, and if nothing else there should be fewer flubs in this column than there were last week.

Easily the most interesting recent film to come out on DVD this week, Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (Paramount) is being released by Paramount in both single- and double-disc editions. The big difference, as usual, is one of special features, as the extra disc includes a number of new featurettes, including spotlights on the history behind the Sweeney Todd legend and a doc on Stephen Sondheim's music. But the real keeper is the film itself, a legitimately dark creation, easily the most despairing Burton film to date. Burton's vision complements the already strong material so perfectly that it more than compensates for the not-quite-up-to-snuff singing by stars Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, who are pretty great otherwise. Sweeney Todd is the filet of this week's new films on DVD, although with such competition as Alvin and the Chipmunks (Fox, also Blu-Ray) and Resurrecting the Champ (Fox), that's pretty faint praise.

Also of note is Warner's The Bette Davis Collection Volume 3, the latest in their exhaustive assembling of box sets featuring the studio era's biggest stars. Normally the selection in these sets are pretty dire, comprised largely of films that weren't ready for a standalone release. However, this set looks unusually strong. Included in the set are the Davis fan favorite Deception, 1943's Watch on the Rhine (which won Davis' costar Paul Lukas a Best Actor Oscar), and In This Our Life, a pre-Hush, Hush... Sweet Charlotte collaboration between Davis and Olivia De Havilland. Other titles in the set are The Old Maid, All This, and Heaven Too, and The Great Lie. As usual, Warner has dug into their vaults and paired each film with their "Warner Night at the Movies" programs, including classic newsreels, cartoons, and trailers. Eventually the well will have to run dry on Davis films as it does with all stars, but this collection should be worth a look.

The only other intriguing DVD release this week- that is, unless you're clamoring for Martin: The Complete Fourth Season or Murder, She Wrote Season 8- is Koch Lorber's trio of new DVD editions of films by the Italian filmmakers Paolo and Vittorio Taviani. Among the films is the American DVD debut of 1993's Fiorile and 1984's Kaos, plus a new edition of their 1982 classic Night of the Shooting Stars. Koch Lorber's DVD releases can be dicey, both in terms of variable picture quality and the lack of special features. However, for those who've been waiting for more of the Tavianis' films to get released on DVD, the wait is over.

Finally, our old pal David Huddleston has returned from his vacation just in time to voice his condolences to the following HD-DVD releases:

Appleseed Ex Machina (Warner)
August Rush (Warner)

Because nothing says "watch this on a bigass HDTV" than a box-office flop about a musical prodigy. Who's with me?

Singing the Praises of "Sweeney Todd"

Phil Nugent — Thu, 07 Feb 2008 17:00:00 GMT

Music critic Terry Teachout salutes Tim Burton and Stephen Sondheim's Sweeney Todd as "easily the most innovative movie of its kind to be made since Bob Fosse’s 1972 Cabaret" and "the best and most artistically serious film ever to be made from a Broadway musical." As Teachout points out, in the early days of al-singing, all-dancing Hollywood musicals, Hollywood routinely raided Broadway for songs and stars and even the titles of hit shows, but generally came up with their own stories for the movie versions; what worked on stage was understood to be different from what worked on screen. "In a Broadway musical, fictional characters sing and dance in everyday situations. On stage, this improbable convention is readily accepted by audiences, since the performers are physically present in the theater and can thus be seen to be 'real,' just as an actor who steps out of the onstage action of a play to address the audience directly does not thereby compromise our sense of his reality. For this reason, stage musicals need not be firmly based on a realistic plot and can make use of non-naturalistic 'presentational' techniques But the live-action sound film, consisting as it does of photographed movement, is essentially a realistic storytelling medium. . . These constraints necessarily caused golden-age film musicals to make use of conventionally naturalistic plots and, typically, to include fewer songs than did stage musicals of the same period. . . Moreover, the songs were far more likely to be performed in settings that 'explained' why the characters were performing them." The popularity of these kinds of movie musicals may have actually led to the development of stage musicals with more focus on dramtic narrative, such as Guys and Dolls, The King and I, and South Pacific, which Hollywood proceeded to transfer to film in rather faithful versions. "Although extremely popular with moviegoers, they were artistic failures: visually static, blandly cast, badly dubbed, far too long. . . and full of stage-specific devices that made little sense when transplanted to the screen."

By contrast, Burton's approach, which was arrived at working in close consultation with Sondheim, was to surgically remake the show in cinematic terms: "the dialogue is minimal, and most of it is accompanied by near-continuous orchestral underscoring so elaborate that the casual viewer might well come away recalling no spoken dialogue whatsoever. The paradoxical effect is to make the film, which contains less music than the stage version, seem even more operatic. No less flamboyantly operatic are the sets, which can best be described as a Gothic caricature of Victorian London, and the film’s grim palette, in which the only bright color is the spurting red blood of the victims whose throats the revenge-crazed Sweeney slashes with his razor." The necessary adjustment is embodied in Johnny Depp, whose performance, with its "cold, hard, shockingly intense reserve", is of a piece with his singing of the title role, which would be inadequate to the demands of a live concert hall but in the context of the movie helps set the intimate connection Burton sought to establish between the people on screen and the audience, to capture what the producer Richard Zanuck calls the effect of "people singing in a room." "The result," Teachout writes, "is a movie that to a considerable degree succeeds in fusing the seemingly incompatible virtues of the golden-age film musical and the postmodern stage musical."

Top Ten of 2007: Leonard Pierce

Leonard Pierce — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 17:00:00 GMT

Unlike many of my fellow bloggers here at the Screengrab, who live in urbane, sophisticated metropoli, I make my home in San Antonio, Texas. We have a ratio of approximately one movie theatre for every million people here, and "art house" is just what the locals call a museum. I hear if we play our cards right, we might be getting a one-week screening next year of that movie The Graduate all the cool kids are talking about, but until then, it's pretty much Transformers on nineteen of the twenty-four screens down at Huebner Oaks. So you'll forgive me if my list leans pretty heavily on stuff that's already available on Netflix; at least half the movies on my list were ones that I had to drive an hour up to Austin to even have a chance of seeing before their DVD release, and there's more than a few movies that likely would have a chance of appearing here (I think specifically of There Will Be Blood and Syndromes and a Century) that there was simply no way for me to see before the year was up. Still, I'll be happy to go along with the prevailing wisdom that 2007 was an especially rich year for film; there was plenty to see, even if you had to go out of your way to see it.

#10: THE LIVES OF OTHERS (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, dir.)

Although it was released in 2006, this masterful film from Germany didn't receive an American audience outside of the Telluride Film Festival until February. It was well worth the wait. Far too many movies that pick up Best Foreign Film Oscars are the international doppelgangers of Best Picture winners -- overblown, overpraised, middlebrow 'prestige' pictures lacking in resonance, depth and any particular qualities that will result in their being remembered far down the line. But The Lives of Others -- best thought of as a brilliant reworking of The Conversation against the dreadful backdrop of Soviet East Germany -- deserved every bit of praise heaped on it by critics both here and abroad. It's a stunning, terrifying film, brilliantly illustrating Hannah Arendt's 'banality of evil' in the person of the astonishing Ulrich Mühe.

#9: SWEENEY TODD, THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET (Tim Burton, dir.)

One of the few of a year-end spate of high-profile films that I actually got a chance to see, Sweeney Todd is Tim Burton's adaptation of the notoriously blood-soaked and difficult Stephen Sondheim musical. I've never been especially fond of Tim Burton as a director, but the qualities of his filmmaking that usually work against him -- the broad emotional strokes, the barely-held-together plots, the characters as caricatures, and the meticulous set design at the expense of believability -- are turned into such strengths that it's hard to believe no one ever had the idea of having him do a musical before this. The result is certainly the best film he's ever done and likely the best film he'll ever do, an absolutely gorgeous thing to look at, and with some surprisingly fine performances. One of the best musicals I've ever seen.

#8: EASTERN PROMISES (David Cronenberg, dir.)

Conversely, I've long been a staunch defender of David Cronenberg's, even with films like Crash and Spider, which met with widespread revulsion from a lot of my fellow critics. Unfortunately, I found his most celebrated film -- 2005's A History of Violence -- sadly lacking, a formulaic and uninspiring drama that bore so little of his unique imprint as a filmmaker that it could have been directed by almost anyone. If the Russian mob drama Eastern Promises isn't strong enough to stand alongside his greatest works, though, it's at least a return to form and a revisiting of some of the themes -- muddled self-identity, the grace and brutality of violence, and a simultaneous revulsion at and fascination with the human body -- that have made him one of the signature talents of the day. Plus, naked Viggo Mortensen, ladies!

#7: BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU'RE DEAD (Sidney Lumet, dir.)

If you'd have told me last year -- hell, if you'd told me twenty years ago -- that one of the best film of 2007 would be by ancient journeyman Sidney Lumet, I'd likely have scoffed. But damned if the old trooper doesn't turn in a remarkably swift and sure-handed job behind the helm here, presenting a neo-noir thriller about a simple caper gone disastrously wrong that wouldn't be entirely out of place in the early 1960s and yet never loses a fresh sense of modernity. Before the Devil Knows You're Dead isn't a groundbreaking piece of cinema art; it's simply an assured, highly professional piece of moviemaking of the sort we rarely see anymore, and which Lumet is eminently qualified to give us. It's further bolstered by a dynamite performance from Philip Seymour Hoffman, who has simply owned 2007 on screen.

#6: LUST, CAUTION (Ang Lee, dir.)

Ang Lee continues to be the most versatile moviemaker in the business with his best work since Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; if he is absolute master of no genre, he at least never ceases to amaze with his ability to dive confidently into all genres. Bouyed by astonishing performances so tightly controlled and confidently directed that they seem drawn from lost Wong Kar-Wei footage, Lust, Caution maintains a killing pace throughout and doesn't fail to deliver on its near-constant sense of tension and frustration. The much-discussed sex scenes are indeed intense and scarily erotic, but they also accomplish something that's so rarely done that it's become an industry joke: they're not arbitrary, but essential, not only to the plot, but also to the slow but inexorable revelation of the nature of the characters.

#5: THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY (Julian Schnabel, dir.)

I was never fond of Julian Schnabel, the visual artist, and while I thought that his debut film, Basquiat, showed promise, I tended to agree with the New York art critic Robert Hughes, who called it a movie about the worst painter of the 1980s made by the second worst. I'm not sure what Hughes has to say about The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, but I think it's an amazing film by a director who's finally come into full posession of the tools of his craft. Schnabel has said that he still considers himself an artist first and a director second, but this visually rewarding, complex and beautiful movie is better than anything he ever put to canvas, and even without the tremendous lead performance by Mathieu Amalric, it would be a film worth watching for its mastery of internal landscapes far richer than Schabel's art ever suggested.

#4: MANUFACTURED LANDSCAPES (Jennifer Baichwal, dir.)

In what is widely regarded as a banner year for documentaries, the finest one I saw had nothing to do with the war in Iraq, the peccadilloes of the president, or the politics of personality. Instead, it was a little-seen film about a little-known photographer named Edward Burtynsky. His photographs -- and the like-minded film by Jennifer Baichwal -- document the vastness and power of man-made constructs, and convey the awe and the terror one feels at observing objects, from China's Three Gorges Dam to American junkyards, that are made by the hand of humans but can dwarf or even overwhelm the natural surroundings in which they appear. A slow-paced, deliberate, and provocative film made as a collaboration between two artists who understand each other in an perfectly asynchronous way.

#3: ZODIAC (David Fincher, dir.)

Much has been made of the fact that David Fincher, best known for his visual pyrotechnics, allegedly made his most successful film without them. That's not entirely true; among other scenes, the opening drive-by tracking shot, the first murders, and the construction montage of the San Francisco skyline can stand next to some of the most stylish set-pieces in his other films. But it's undeniable that his best film to date, and one of the best films of the year, is at its best when he simply stands back and lets the audience become spellbound with the absorbing interplay of his characters. A fascinating treatment of the nature of obsession and a subtle treatise on the way we become ensnared in the grotesque and the perverse, Zodiac is revelatory in the way it defies expectations of what a serial-killer drama should be.

#2: BRAND UPON THE BRAIN! (Guy Maddin, dir.)

Guy Maddin has been quietly establishing himself as one of the finest, most idiosyncratic directors in the world for several years now, and Brand Upon the Brain! is both his most autobiographical film to date (the lead character in the film is, well, Guy Maddin, ably and amusingly played by young Sullivan Brown) and his best. There was some fear amongst critics who had a chance to see it in its 'touring edition' -- a live extravaganza featuring on-site music, celebrity voice-overs and sound effects composed right there in the theater -- that the film wouldn't hold up without all the show-stopping theatrical gimmicks, but they needn't have worried: this is the purest distilliation of Maddin's unique sensibilities as a filmmaker: sexual obsession, throwback surrealism, fantastic dreamscapes, and madness as part of the everyday.

#1: NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (Joel & Ethan Coen, dirs.)

There are plenty of filmmakers who would trade their favorite limb for a track record like Joel and Ethan Coen -- from 1984 to 2001, they didn't make a bad film, and the 9 features they put in the can over those 17 years add up to the most robust corpus by any living American filmmaker you can name. Things started to go awry with Intolerable Cruelty and The Ladykillers; many placed the blame on the fact that, for the first time, the Coens were filming material they didn't write. That's not a problem with No Country for Old Men, a triumphant masterpiece of genre filmmaking based on a minor Cormac McCarthy novel that once again places the brothers (credited, for the first time ever, as co-directors) where they belong: at the very pinnacle of American moviemaking. An astonishing comeback that will be discussed for decades.

Cutting Up "Sweeney Todd"

Phil Nugent — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 17:00:00 GMT

Although a handful of Stephen Sondheim's musicals have been staged for TV (including a Showtime transcription of Sweeney Todd that featured the original Broadway cast member Angela Lansbury, the new Tim Burton-directed Sweeney Todd will only mark the third time that a show for which Sondheim wrote both music and lyrics has been turned into a movie. The first, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, directed by Richard Lester in 1966, was made before Sondheim fully developed his personal style in the early 1970s with such musicals as Follies and Company, and the 1978 A Little Night Music, directed by Harold Prince, was a thorough waste of everyone's time. Even though the original show was based on a movie, Bergman's Smiles of a Summer Night, the film version was flat and stagebound, a problem unlikely to recur under Beetlejuice's creator. Sondheim himself, speaking to Jesse Green in the New York Times, makes it clear that he has no use for those earlier movies, nor even for the more highly regarded movies Gypsy and West Side Story, both based on stage musicals for which he wrote the lyrics. "The problem is," he says, "what do you shoot in something like 'Tonight'? You get a close-up of him, a close-up of her, a medium shot of the fire escape. It’s the same problem with so many of those other movies. The director has to fill out three or four minutes of what is essentially a static song, which holds your attention on the stage because that’s part of the theatrical convention. Whereas for me, as a movie buff, I want the action to move forward constantly, and it doesn’t. They may have little camera diversions and a trick here or there, but they’re just filming a stage musical, and that’s not for me.” It's a good thing that Sondheim himself understands the differences between movies and stage musicals, because his contract ensured that he had to sign off on the changes made to Sweeney Todd for the movie, and after each moment of initial shock wore off, he signed off on some doozies, such as agreeing to eliminate the thematic linking song "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd" because it would have slowed down the action, as well as pruning the "sunnier" songs in order to maintain the dark, Gothic atmosphere that Burton strove to achieve with this material--not that he wouldn't probably strive to achieve it if he were remaking My Friend Flicka. If legions of Broadway babies are fated to respond to every change in the original text by acting as if their throats have been sliced, Sondheim can deal with that; the adaptation process demands that "you've got to be ruthless," he says. Sing it, brother!

YouTube Cabinet of Curiosities: Sondheim on Film

Paul Clark — Tue, 18 Dec 2007 17:00:00 GMT

With the release of Tim Burton's version of Sweeney Todd this weekend, there’s sure to be a renewed interest among non-theatre buffs in the other works of Stephen Sondheim. To commemorate the occasion, I’m posting videos of two of Sondheim’s most iconic songs, as presented on film. First, here’s his old favorite “Send In the Clowns,” from A Little Night Music. It’s performed in the film version by Liz Taylor, whose voice isn’t exactly ideal for the song, but whose performance is a spectacle all the same. Check it out:

Another of Sondheim’s most enduring musicals is Company, which has yet to be adapted for the big screen. Company’s showstopping number “The Ladies Who Lunch” has been sung on various occasions by Carol Burnett (in the Sondheim revue Putting It Together), Barbara Walsh (in the 2006 Broadway revival), and then-17-year-old Anna Kendrick in the 2003 film Camp. But for sheer powerhouse charge, none can match Elaine Stritch’s take on the song on the original cast album. Here, in two segments, is Stritch performing take after take of the tune in D.A. Pennebaker’s 1970 documentary Original Cast Album: Company, a performance that’s even more impressive considering she’s singing it at 4:00 AM at the tail end of a nearly 18-hour cast recording session. Enjoy!

SWEENEY TODD opens nationwide this Friday. A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC and ORIGINAL CAST ALBUM: COMPANY are available on DVD.