Category Archives: shakespeare

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Does the World Really Need ‘Iron Man 3’?

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613I don’t. I can safely say that after seeing it yesterday.

It had little of the wit and charm of the original Iron Man. Lots of confused, slam-bang “action,” though. Not as much heart.

There were some reliably good turns in Iron Man 3: Robert Downey Jr. as the titular superhero, Gwyneth Paltrow as girlfriend Pepper Potts, Ben Kingsley (who nearly steals the show) as an evil terrorist who’s not what he seems. But it all felt like stuff I’ve seen before, and there wasn’t as much of a focus on Downey’s character’s own demons … his alcoholism, for example. So there’s no real growth or arc. He doesn’t really change.

OK, I’m not expecting a kind of Shakespearean transformation here. It is a superhero movie, after all. Still, the strength and smarts of the first Iron Man made me expect something a bit larger-scale, from a psychological perspective, than what Iron Man 3 turned out to be – which was merely modest entertainment. A good superhero flick can transcend its genre. This one didn’t.

I’m assuming this franchise will continue to churn out additional installments. So be it. Do we need them, though? I say: Only if they approach the quality of the original. And I’m not sanguine about the prospects of that.

Skip’s Quips: Top (or Perhaps Bottom) 10 Worst Miscastings in Cinema

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Blog Sketch 082813Yes, I’ve been thinking of this. There certainly has been a host of miscasting throughout the years in the movies. Yet none so much, to my mind, as the ones that follow. Here they are in descending order of badness; take a look and see if you agree.

10) Robin Williams as Peter Pan in Hook: A dreadful performance by the usually hilarious Williams as the now-grown-up Pan in a horrid reimagining of the classic tale. This is one that belongs in Neverland.

9) Anthony Hopkins as Richard Nixon in Nixon: Mr. Hopkins can do almost anything, but Tricky Dick was beyond his ken. Then again, it wasn’t completely his fault; a more tiresome, overblown film you’ll hardly find.

8) Meryl Streep as Julia Child in Julie & Julia: Just put on a bizarre accent and roll, right? Isn’t that the way to portray the seminal TV chef? Nope. It sure seemed like that was the plan in this awful film, which plodded its way to the ending like one staggers through an Escoffier-planned meal. Let the diner beware.

7) Charlton Heston as Moses in The Ten Commandments: I never bought this one, despite its relegation to “classic” status. Not in my tablets. One has to wonder if Moses’ jaw was really that square. Surely his acting wasn’t.

6) Mel Gibson as Hamlet in Hamlet: At one time, I tried to convince myself that Gibson’s performance as the titular Shakespearean hero was interesting. Ah, those were the (naive) days. Really, it was a mannered, tedious portrayal in an otherwise decent film. Why, Franco Zeffirelli, why?

5) Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland: Stop the insanity! I’m not sure if this backstory-driven reimagining of the Lewis Carroll book was director Tim Burton’s idea or not, but it didn’t work. Especially dreary was Depp’s misguided portrayal of said Hatter as a tragic figure. Repeat after me: Aargh! This was not frabjous casting.

4) Tony Curtis as the Viking Eric in The Vikings: A Viking by way of the Bronx. Can you say: “Riiiiiggghht.” Sorry, Tony, we love you, but not in this.

3) Nicol Williamson as Merlin in Excalibur: What a wrong, strange performance this is. Excalibur‘s an otherwise intriguing film, but I’ve always been puzzled by Williamson’s peculiar, sometimes–quiet-sometimes-loud-and-always-bizarre acting decisions as the legendary wizard. Odd and unconvincing portrayal.

2) Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra in, what else, Cleopatra: Do you have a hard time getting through this picture? Don’t worry; everyone does. Central to this issue is Taylor’s performance. Ah, the grandeur that was Hollywood.

1) John Wayne as Genghis Khan in The Conqueror: Need I say more?

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Why We Are the Makers of Manners

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613It’s now been a quarter-century since I last saw someone scream in the movie theater.

The rebel yell occurred in Manhattan during a showing of Kenneth Branagh’s intense, glorious Henry V, which had recently debuted. Crowded, hot and uncomfortable was the interior as a host of New Yorkers, squished together in narrow seats, silently watched the actor perform with the utmost passion. When it came to the famed St. Crispin’s Day speech, one of Shakespeare’s finest, the music went into crescendo mode. The theater listened. Branagh reached a climactic point.

And one man sitting in front of me pumped his fist high, like a champion weightlifter.

“Yeeeaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!” he screamed, louder than any Patrick Doyle melody.

We stared at him, surprised. Some of us laughed. Me, I smiled. I knew how he felt. He, like the rest of us, wanted to join Henry’s band of brothers. The speech was so well-acted that the guy forgot he wasn’t part of the English army at Agincourt.

I’ve never heard anything as raucous in a movie theater since. I’m proud—it was a unique cinematic experience. Yet it also tells us something about great art: that it’s able, at its best, to transform us, inspire us. That there’s nothing else as immersive … and we can happily disappear into the canvases we embrace.

Sometimes I wish I had done the same thing at that time. I certainly felt like doing it. I realize, however, that the moment belonged to the fellow in front of me, as well as Branagh, whose speech made the reaction possible.

And it’s better that way, I think. Movie magic couldn’t, in my opinion, have been better expressed.

Skip’s Quips: A Skunk Cabbage By Any Other Name

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Blog Sketch 082813Wherefore art certain schemes to market the Bard so silly?

Taketh Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet, for instance. Or rather, William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet.

That’s William with a “W.” Shakespeare with an “S.”

And dopey with a “d.” C’mon, who else’s Romeo and Juliet would it be–Irving Berlin’s?

I’m not sure why such a prestige picture needs the added prestige of the famous author’s name in lights above it. It’s different,  methinks for a film like Fellini Satyricon, where the source material’s not as well-known, and the director’s the selling point. But R&J?

I don’t think anyone’s gonna come up to the theater and say, “Drat–I was hoping for Christopher Marlowe’s version.”

In reality, this is just a modern way to tout a vintage, though hallowed, brand. But I think there’s a double standard. You don’t see movies touting Homer’s The Odyssey. Or Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales. Or Madonna’s Sex.

Thank goodness is what I’ve got to say.

It’s obvious the cachet of Shakespeare’s name lends itself well to movie titles … or so Hollywood may think. Yet his lilies don’t need the gilding. The Bard’s greatest works speak for themselves and lack the pretension artificially ascribed to them by application of marketing nomenclature. Frankly, if the studios want to reach a new audience with R&J every decade or so, they should concentrate on casting it better and giving it a less-flashy director. (It remains to be seen how Carlo Carlei’s Romeo & Juliet will fare, though I suspect it can’t be worse than Luhrmann’s iteration.)

My concern, then, isn’t whether a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. It’s whether today’s filmmakers think so.

I hope they do.

Skip’s Quips: Paris, Je T’Aime … Uh, Most of the Time

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Blog Sketch 082813One of my fondest cinematic memories is seeing a line outside a Paris movie theater for a Marx Brothers flick.

The Marx Brothers. A line. For a film that was, at the time, at least 60 years old.

See why I love France so much?

OK, perhaps the infatuation with Jerry Lewis–one of the silver screen’s least funny performers–doesn’t make sense, though I have to admit liking his Gallic equivalent, Louis de Funès, quite a bit. (Watch The Mad Adventures of Rabbi Jacob and see if you agree.) Yet the truth is, there’s a film culture there that pervades the national fabric. Why? More than a century of cinematic prowess is one reason, but I think another is the notion that people just like movies there. Good movies. Old movies. And often new movies.

Many years ago, as I attempted to coordinate a showing of the original 1968 version of The Producers in my college dorm, a friend of mine pooh-poohed the idea, decrying the film’s “old humor.” True, not everyone shares those sentiments, but I wondered then–as I do now–why some feel nothing that’s been around more than 10 minutes has any value cinematically. Doesn’t quality last longer than novelty … at least, in most cases?

I’m not deluding myself: There’s no way every person in France likes the Marx Brothers or, for that matter, any old movie because of its age. Bad taste is everywhere–the admiration of les films de M. Lewis offers evidence of that–yet I think there’s a sensibility in France that suggests its inhabitants often understand what it takes to make a good movie … and why it should be valued regardless of the years behind it. Again, I’m not sure why this is, and I’m not saying one country’s better than another.

But when I summon up remembrance of movies past, I think of the line outside that French theater to see a Marx Brothers comedy. And I can’t help but find a love in my heart for Paree.

 

Skip’s Quips: The (Rarely Filmed) Play’s the Thing

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Once upon a time, I was excited that Julie Taymor came out with a film version of Shakespeare’s gore-o-thon Titus Andronicus.

It wasn’t because it’s a good play. In fact, it’s kinda lousy–possibly Will’s worst: a mix of cheap thrills and cardboard characters. I think we can safely say he did a lot better later in his career.

No…the reason I was excited is that you hardly ever see Titus Andronicus staged, let alone put on the silver screen. And that brings me to a question: Why do we keep getting deluged with movie versions of the same old plays—Much Ado About Nothing comes to mind immediately–when there are numerous other, less-frequently filmed Shake Specials that are as good or better waiting to be made into movies?

I mean, where the heck is the latest cinema spectacular of The Winter’s Tale, hm? Or The Comedy of Errors? Let’s freshen the stew a bit, can’t we?

Not that I don’t dig Much Ado…though I have to confess Joss Whedon’s foray into this frothy comedy is a dish I love not. But do we really need two cinema versions of the same play within a span of 20 years–especially when the Kenneth Branagh iteration, despite some awkward casting choices, provided the definitive Beatrice and Benedick?

Guess I should sigh no more–we’ll always sway toward the well received, and there’s no doubt both Hamlet, Macbeth and the like fit the bill. Still, who’s to say there wouldn’t be an audience for a new film of The Taming of the Shrew? My feeling is, we should take advantage of Mr. Shakespeare’s infinite variety. I say: Give me excess of it.