Tag Archives: DVD

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#Moonrise Kingdom: Style, Substance and Cynicism

Moonrise Kingdom is now available on DVD and Pay-for-View. In an eerie coincidence, I chose the film without knowing that a storm of epic proportions played a significant role in the fictional narrative. Still fresh in my mind were the scenes of devastation NBC broadcast during last night’s telethon for the victims of Hurricane Sandy.

I was struck by a feeling that a storyboard defined the highly-stylized film, dictating acting style, the lighting and set design. Every image was composed, more like still photographs or paintings than film.  So strong was one image, a girl holding binoculars, that throughout the remaining minutes of the film, I itched to recall a particular painting: Alex Colville’s To Prince Edward Island.

Bob Balaban played the narrator, necessary to ground the film, for audiences who might be confused, like the Nonagenarian. She moaned with exasperation, unable to “make head nor tail” of the film, which is essentially a homage to nearly everything. Shakespeare’s Tempest; J. M. Barrie‘s Peter Pan; Scorsese’s Hugo; Alex Colville or Andrew Wyeth’s paintings; the films of Georges Méliès; and Road Runner cartoons!

The woman-child heroine recalled Joan of Arc – old beyond her years, while still a child months from her first menses. Certain, courageous and seemingly mad, by film’s end she and her partner in crime, the man-child Sam, were the only mature characters in the film. The adult characters were dysfunctional and self-centered, failed role models.

Set in 1965, the sets were decorated with items grounded in reality. We had a Corning Ware coffee peculator, white ceramic with blue flowers and a stainless steel collar. A recording of A Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra used as a metaphor in the beginning of the film was played  by my 1960′s elementary school music teacher to inculcate an intellectual appreciation of the parts of an orchestra. (I preferred 100 Men and a Girl, the Deanna Durban film.)

Directed by Wes Anderson from a script he co-wrote, the film captured the imagination of an unlikely cast – Edward Norton, Tilda Swinton, Bruce Willis, Frances McDormand, Bill Murray and Harvey Keitel. If star power influences your choice of film, Moonrise Kingdom has it. If fantasy and magic draw you to film, this film delivers it. Moonrise Kingdom failed to connect with me, because too much effort was spent on homage rather than emotional substance.

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The Ancestors or The Descendants, A Cinematic Perspective

The Descendants (film)

The Descendants (film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Three subjects of particular interest to me came together in The Descendants:

  1. Family History
  2. Cinema
  3. Antarctica

Family History: My Perspective

If  family history is viewed as an exploration of those who came before – ancestors, the weight of obligation is less than if one views family history from a descendant’s perspective. That is illustrated brilliantly in the film, as Matt King struggles with the responsibility of stewardship of land he and other descendants inherited. Matt King is a man who can recite his pedigree, passes it to his children and shares it with a gaggle of cousins. The past is present in their lives.

A Cinematic Perspective

This film is rife with cinematic cliches. Hawaii as paradise.  Workaholic father and distant husband. Dysfunctional family. Disloyal wife. Matrimonial implosion. Precocious tween. Teenage daughter acting out. Dull-witted teen beau. Eccentric supporting characters.

BUT

Every time I became impatient with the cliche, there was a situational twist; or a piece of dialogue that belied the cliche; or an unexpected insight into a character. That’s a really big but. The Descendants is a much, much better film than it appears in promos, reviews or on the DVD cover. There are human truths brilliantly depicted. I’ll let you pick the ones that resonate with you. My moments were the hospital scenes when the characters spoke to the comatose Elizabeth as if she could hear. Been there, done that.

Antarctica

My dream as a marketer of polar product was to see the Arctic and Antarctica become ubiquitous. Like Walmart – even if you never shopped there – you know the name. The Descendants confirmed that that dream of mine is now a reality. I won’t spoil how the film set in Hawaii manages to do that. Just watch it.

As a matter of fact that is the best piece of advice I can give you about this film – just watch it.

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@Bravuratones @RHCPA: An Afternoon to Remember

Bravura

Bravura

Two years ago, three Canadian baritones, Lawrence Cotton, George Masswohl and Curtis Sullivan, decided it was about time that the guys who sing between the basso profundos and focus-pulling tenors were given their due. So they formed a trio – Bravura [Say it with the rolled Rs and Italian inflections, please.]

This afternoon, they performed at my favourite professional theatre, The Richmond Hill Centre for the Performing Arts. The public concert was captured digitally for an upcoming album and promotional DVD. With only piano accompaniment, Bravura filled the house with a rich, deep sound that should come with a warning label – addictive.

The concert began with Stout-hearted Men  (Sigmund Romberg / Frank Mandel / Laurence Schwab / Oscar Hammerstein II). Maybe you remember it from Rosemarie, the Nelson Eddie movie about Mounties? I loved the tongue-in-cheek choice, and that baritone power that rumbles through the body setting your pulse thumping in time. The second tune, equally as stirring, was They Called the Wind, Mariah, from Paint Your Wagon. Shakespeare would have been pleased with the sympathetic fallacy. The song and arrangement matched the weather that pummeled us as we made our way into the theatre, complete with scudding clouds. The men of Bravura, had no need to sing another note. A fangirl had been born.

But they did, to the delight of all, even the octogenarian, who developed a crush on Curtis. Their version of Somewhere, from West Side Story, usually sung by a pesky tenor, was thrillingly arranged, with the piano becoming, for a moment, a fourth voice. The men of Bravura paid homage to the “greatest rock and roll baritone” complete with Jordanaires style harmonies.

The phrasing reflected their backgrounds. When Curtis sang lead, his operatic background came to the fore. Lawrence’s phrasing had Jazz overtones. George, the musical theatre baritone, was the most animated, and played MC for most of the gig. Their different styles inspired a diverse program, including I’ll Follow the Sun, my favourite Beatles tune and a Neapolitan mash-up.

I was so completely captivated by their carmel-sauce-on-a-hot-fudge-sundae tone that I hesitate to mention my one small criticism: mic stands. It became obvious, after the performance, as they redid some numbers for the video that the stands got in the way of their charm as live performers. Their body language loosened, they interacted with each other more comfortably. Perhaps the brand they are building is more formal than informal? I’m nit-picking, on what turned out to be an afternoon to remember.

I’ll be at the head of the line for tickets when the next concert is announced.

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New TV Season, New Shows

Gosh, for years I have anticipated that week in September when the new TV shows begin. That week isn’t as important as finding a cure for hangnails or getting a job, I know. For a kid who dreamed of working in TV and radio it was an imperative. Now that I’m all grown up (LOL), I am selective, reading the synopsizes and avoiding the genres with which I do not connect.

New Girl was highly touted, but one that just didn’t interest me. However, I  received a free copy of the first episode when I downloaded the Purple Piano Project. [Didn't want it, would have refused it, didn't have a choice.] So I watched the first 5 minutes. It was every bit as bad as I was led to believe by the promos. New Girl is not on my appointment-TV list.

Person of Interest intrigued me. The premise is that one person who has his eye on all the post-911 security equipment protecting NYC recruits a former, highly-skilled agent to find a person who is potentially in danger. The twist is that the information used to ID the P of I is fallible. Plot twists guaranteed. NYC is gritty and the protagonist is steely eyed. I’m going to give this one a second glance.

Harry’s Law has returned revamped and with the addition of Mark Valley. Christopher McDonald is permanent – he adds the comic relief. High-end fashion shoes are no longer a character, which could detract for some original fans of the show. Kathy Bates is the reason to watch. Jean Smart was in the first episode playing a DA with attitude – bad attitude. She was marvellous! I hope she and Harry are on opposing sides again.

Franklin and Bash is making me laugh. I’m a fan of Brecken Meyer so I gave it a go. Trite, yes: A pair of fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants lawyers are recruited by a by-the-book law firm. You can find that on Bravo on Monday nights.

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Intellecual Property Rights – Owning Up

My favourite classical music station DJs often introduce a piece by Mozart with a story about the problem the composer had collecting payment for his compositions. The term intellectual property right did not exist in Mozart’s day, but the problem of an artist being acknowledged as the owner of, and being paid fairly for, his creation certainly did.

I asked two of my talented nephews how they felt about intellectual property rights. They are in their early twenties, and fond of download sharing. To my surprise, although they are muscians - they were not IPR advocates. “You make money from touring,” I was told, “Not selling your music. Music sells concert tickets.”

I’ve spent a considerable amount of my professional life negotiating IPR - more correctly – protecting my employer from the consequences of IPR. But…the novel languishing on my hard drive…puts me in the opposite camp…I write, therefore I own.

I’ve heard from at least one professional photographer that he has difficulty shooting in urban landscapes. Owners of landmarks are demanding that he pay them a fee for using their building in his commercial shots. I can see the building owner’s point. After all, cathedrals in Europe charge a “photo” fee – to anyone with a camera who wants a picture – not just professionals.

I don’t download without paying a fee. I don’t accept copies of DVDs from well-meaning friends. I listen to my conscience when I photocopy. Yet, I deliberately jay-walk at the corner of Levendale and Yonge; a small civil disobedience that let’s me express my exasperation that pedestrian traffic is impeded in deference to cars. I can’t be the only person in the universe that juggles such contradictions.