I have just seen a marvellous film, "Mean Creek", and its cast is mainly child actors. What is so impressive is that they are all so good. What is even more amazing to me is that the Culkin boy, younger brother of the famous one from "Home Alone", is such a superb actor. In any group of actors there is usually a sort of leader who holds the story together: in this case it's Rory Culkin.
But the others, all of them, are excellent. It must take a special talent to induce from the lads and one girl such sincere-seeming performances. The director of this film, his first film, evidently has a special talent.
I think of Carol Reed and "The Fallen Idol"; he too had a special talent working with children. In that film I believe I heard that to get a good performance from a boy so young he told him stories that were quite different from the one the boy was acting in.
Thursday 31 January 2008
Wednesday 30 January 2008
Sir Thomas Beecham
Whenever a team is being picked for a match like England v Wales (this Saturday) I think of the advice I would like to give the selectors. It is the answer to a question asked by a reporter to Sir Thomas Beecham. "How is it that you have created such a wonderful orchestra?" Beecham replied: "I choose the best players and I allow them to play." Good idea for those who like to have complete control over how the players perform. Let them play for God's sake!
It of course not entirely true of Beecham and his orchestra; Beecham exerted tremendous control over his orchestra so he didn't just "allow them to play". But as with many of Beecham's sayings there is usually an element of truth in them.
Of Elgar's music he said that it made him think of "the facade of Euston station" (though sometimes he varied this and made it "St Pancras station").
Of Vaughan Williams's music he said :"He composed a good piece when he was young, the Thomas Trallis variations, but continued to compose the same piece throughout the rest of his life."
Of Wales he said: "There is no music in Wales."
My favourite Beecham story has to do with when he once attended a dinner given by a particularly gushing hostess who remarked that there was "on the music scene an excellent new conductor, a certain Malcolm Sergeant". Silence from Beecham as he sipped his soup. "O yes," continued the hostess, "he's doing a wonderful job with the orchestra he's conducting." Silence. More sipping of soup. "And they say that when he was on a tour in the Middle East with his orchestra he found himself in the middle of a street riot where bullets were fired, some of them hitting his car...." Beecham looked up. "I didn't know the Arabs were so fond of music," he said.
It of course not entirely true of Beecham and his orchestra; Beecham exerted tremendous control over his orchestra so he didn't just "allow them to play". But as with many of Beecham's sayings there is usually an element of truth in them.
Of Elgar's music he said that it made him think of "the facade of Euston station" (though sometimes he varied this and made it "St Pancras station").
Of Vaughan Williams's music he said :"He composed a good piece when he was young, the Thomas Trallis variations, but continued to compose the same piece throughout the rest of his life."
Of Wales he said: "There is no music in Wales."
My favourite Beecham story has to do with when he once attended a dinner given by a particularly gushing hostess who remarked that there was "on the music scene an excellent new conductor, a certain Malcolm Sergeant". Silence from Beecham as he sipped his soup. "O yes," continued the hostess, "he's doing a wonderful job with the orchestra he's conducting." Silence. More sipping of soup. "And they say that when he was on a tour in the Middle East with his orchestra he found himself in the middle of a street riot where bullets were fired, some of them hitting his car...." Beecham looked up. "I didn't know the Arabs were so fond of music," he said.
Tuesday 29 January 2008
Some quotes
Woody Allen: "I'm a firm believer that when you're dead, naming a street after you does nothing for your metabolism."
Hannah Arendt: "Nothing so innoculates a person against reality than the hold of ideology."
Tolstoy: "Art is an activity by means of which one man, having experienced a feeling, intentionally transmits it to another."
Hannah Arendt: "Nothing so innoculates a person against reality than the hold of ideology."
Tolstoy: "Art is an activity by means of which one man, having experienced a feeling, intentionally transmits it to another."
Monday 28 January 2008
Type Casting
I wonder if making "Breakback Mountain" affected Heath Ledger in some way. Maybe he was the kind of actor who empathised with the character he'd be playing so thoroughly that, in a way, he would become that person and find it difficult to shake off the traits of the character afterwards in the real world. Maybe this troubled him.
Just a thought.
But certain roles do get under the skins of some actors. I feel, for example, that Anthony Perkins after "Psycho" seemed unable satisfactorilly to play any other character than the young man with the murdered mother in the window. It type-cast him.
Like Peter Lorre's performance in "M" ensured he would for ever be that lonely, murderous, crazed figure. Even in his performances as Mister Motto he seemed always to be on the edge of tipping over into psyopathic mania.
Alastair Sim was forever Alastair Sim; he couldn't be anyone else. Even as Scrooge he made Scrooge into Alastair Sim not Alastaire Sim into Scrooge.
There are few film actors who can escape the style/character their early work has created. Why should they? Aren't they successful doing just that?
Yet I feel many actors they would like to spread their wings and "do something great and different". Few succeed in doing anything different though some do achieve something great sometimes. Bogart did in "The Matese Falon", "The Treasure of Sierra Madre" and "Casablanca". But he was always Bogart.
Laurence Olivier was never type-casted. Probably this was because he liked to insinuate himself into roles where he would imitate people who were like the people he played. He was a great stage actor but never a great film actor.
A friend of mine met him. My friend was a designer with Royal Doulton; they had made a toby jug (if memory doesn't fail me) of Olivier as Richard the Third. The Company wanted to know if Olivier approved of the bust. They shook hands and sat down and my friend was conscious for a while of being studied as they chatted informally. What Olivier was doing, I was told later by someone who knew him, was trying to understand what sort of person it was he was meeting so that he could respond appropriately - in other words he wanted to present to this other person the persona of which they would most approve.
Dustin Hoffman was always Dustin Hoffman and when he played in the film "Marathon Man" with Olivier he felt he ought to become a marathon runner and set out to do this; it looked rather hard going to Olivier who one day said to him "Why don't you try acting?"
Just a thought.
But certain roles do get under the skins of some actors. I feel, for example, that Anthony Perkins after "Psycho" seemed unable satisfactorilly to play any other character than the young man with the murdered mother in the window. It type-cast him.
Like Peter Lorre's performance in "M" ensured he would for ever be that lonely, murderous, crazed figure. Even in his performances as Mister Motto he seemed always to be on the edge of tipping over into psyopathic mania.
Alastair Sim was forever Alastair Sim; he couldn't be anyone else. Even as Scrooge he made Scrooge into Alastair Sim not Alastaire Sim into Scrooge.
There are few film actors who can escape the style/character their early work has created. Why should they? Aren't they successful doing just that?
Yet I feel many actors they would like to spread their wings and "do something great and different". Few succeed in doing anything different though some do achieve something great sometimes. Bogart did in "The Matese Falon", "The Treasure of Sierra Madre" and "Casablanca". But he was always Bogart.
Laurence Olivier was never type-casted. Probably this was because he liked to insinuate himself into roles where he would imitate people who were like the people he played. He was a great stage actor but never a great film actor.
A friend of mine met him. My friend was a designer with Royal Doulton; they had made a toby jug (if memory doesn't fail me) of Olivier as Richard the Third. The Company wanted to know if Olivier approved of the bust. They shook hands and sat down and my friend was conscious for a while of being studied as they chatted informally. What Olivier was doing, I was told later by someone who knew him, was trying to understand what sort of person it was he was meeting so that he could respond appropriately - in other words he wanted to present to this other person the persona of which they would most approve.
Dustin Hoffman was always Dustin Hoffman and when he played in the film "Marathon Man" with Olivier he felt he ought to become a marathon runner and set out to do this; it looked rather hard going to Olivier who one day said to him "Why don't you try acting?"
Sunday 27 January 2008
Mills and Boon
100 years old this month eh! One hundred years of churning out that garbage. Well that's what a young man, at a writers' gathering I was at a few years ago, called stories for certain women's mags. He was sitting in the front row of a group of people being lectured to by an astute lady who had once been an editor of a woman's magazine, and he kept asking seemingly serious questions about the business of writing stories for such magazines and novels for Mills and Boon. "I take it you yourself write or attempt to write this kind of story," she said obviously taking it for granted that he was since he was taking such a serious interest in the topic. "Write this stuff!" he said, his voice full of contempt. "I think they are simply garbage," he said.
There was a librarian in the audience who said "When we buy Mills and Boon books we buy them by the yard."
I have met only two people who have actually read a Mills and Boon. One was a friend of mine (male) who thought he could make some cash out of writing one. "Easy," he said. And he proceeded to read five straight off so that he could "get a feel for the genre". He actually wrote one but it was turned down. "Too much sex?" I asked. "Apparently not enough" he said. He never tried again.
The other was a highly intelligent lady who could speak five or more languages and made a career out of translating texts into English - mostly medical and scientific work. She loved reading Mills and Boon books. You could tell: she'd curl up on an easy chair and read a book right through without stopping. "They are so wonderfully romantic," she'd say.
Someone from the Mills and Boon publishers came to give us, a writers' group, a talk on how to write books for them. After the talk everyone was excited, thrilled at the thought they might actually write one and get rich quick..... Except an old lady who I sat next to in the bar later. "Is that all it's about?" she said. "Ugh?" I said. "Well, you know, love and romance and meeting someone and marrying?" "Ugh?" I said. "Literature I mean," she said. "There's Tolstoy, and Shakespeare and Austen and Eliot and we're excited about this stuff." "Mmmm," I said. I think I know what she was getting at. They don't buy Tolstoy by the yard.
There was a librarian in the audience who said "When we buy Mills and Boon books we buy them by the yard."
I have met only two people who have actually read a Mills and Boon. One was a friend of mine (male) who thought he could make some cash out of writing one. "Easy," he said. And he proceeded to read five straight off so that he could "get a feel for the genre". He actually wrote one but it was turned down. "Too much sex?" I asked. "Apparently not enough" he said. He never tried again.
The other was a highly intelligent lady who could speak five or more languages and made a career out of translating texts into English - mostly medical and scientific work. She loved reading Mills and Boon books. You could tell: she'd curl up on an easy chair and read a book right through without stopping. "They are so wonderfully romantic," she'd say.
Someone from the Mills and Boon publishers came to give us, a writers' group, a talk on how to write books for them. After the talk everyone was excited, thrilled at the thought they might actually write one and get rich quick..... Except an old lady who I sat next to in the bar later. "Is that all it's about?" she said. "Ugh?" I said. "Well, you know, love and romance and meeting someone and marrying?" "Ugh?" I said. "Literature I mean," she said. "There's Tolstoy, and Shakespeare and Austen and Eliot and we're excited about this stuff." "Mmmm," I said. I think I know what she was getting at. They don't buy Tolstoy by the yard.
Saturday 26 January 2008
Handel
I wrote a short play some time back; called "On the Street" it dealt with five young people sleeping rough. I did nothing with it until this last week when I decided to re-write it and send it to a competition - the Drama Association of Wales Play Competition. I completed it yesterday and sent it off. Then I had what I thought a good idea: I would re-write it again (not for the competition obviously) only this time with music, some accompanying the play, some to be sung by the characters. In other words I would turn it into A MUSICAL. I have written a musical before but getting a composer to put music to it took me about 12 years and it still hasn't been staged. So I thought "HANDEL"! Why not use his music? I wouldn't have to find a composer then. So I went out and bought a CD with all his popular stuff on it - Water Music, Fireworks Music, Queen of Sheba, See the conquering hero, Hallelujah ..... and others. Great.
I pick up the newspaper to find that Stephen Fry has decided to make a film about the life of Handel, I turn on Radio 3 and there's bit of Handel, turn to Classic FM, more Handel....
Handel must be in the air. Or maybe great minds think alike.
I heard that Beethoven, on his death bed, sat up, pointed to a collection of Handel's works on a shelf and said "The greatest of them all". Having listened to a lot of Handel lately I'm beginnin g to think he may have been right.
I pick up the newspaper to find that Stephen Fry has decided to make a film about the life of Handel, I turn on Radio 3 and there's bit of Handel, turn to Classic FM, more Handel....
Handel must be in the air. Or maybe great minds think alike.
I heard that Beethoven, on his death bed, sat up, pointed to a collection of Handel's works on a shelf and said "The greatest of them all". Having listened to a lot of Handel lately I'm beginnin g to think he may have been right.
Friday 25 January 2008
Woody Allen
I have just seen "Match Point", a Woody Allen film. The first part, up to about a third of the way through, is made in such a simple style that it looked to me as if he had been trained to film soap operas: the camera moves from face to face, from scene to face to scene, as is done in, say, "Coronation Street" - who cares about style when all people are interested in is how the story develops? But then the story develops so dramatically, tensely and disturbingly that I didn't care how or what style was being used because I was completely gripped by the plot.
It is similar to "Crimes and Misdemeanours" in that it is about a murder and how the action affects the protagonist.... aren't all murder plots about this? Well, no; most are about "who done it", and if there is any moral dimension in a "who-dun-it" mostly it's concerned with the detective rather than the murderer.
Woody is concerned, like Dostoievski, with the soul of the murderer, especially if he gets away with it.
Dostoievski has answers and they are to do with our belief in God. Woody Allen, I feel, does not believe so he has no answers. He is saying "this is how life is - no moral basis to it; if you can get away with murder there is no reason to think you can't live a normal life". Which is a pretty gloomy thought.
But what an exciting film! And as A.C.Scott wrote about "Match Point" in the New York Times: "The gloom of random, meaningless existence has rarely been so much fun."
It is similar to "Crimes and Misdemeanours" in that it is about a murder and how the action affects the protagonist.... aren't all murder plots about this? Well, no; most are about "who done it", and if there is any moral dimension in a "who-dun-it" mostly it's concerned with the detective rather than the murderer.
Woody is concerned, like Dostoievski, with the soul of the murderer, especially if he gets away with it.
Dostoievski has answers and they are to do with our belief in God. Woody Allen, I feel, does not believe so he has no answers. He is saying "this is how life is - no moral basis to it; if you can get away with murder there is no reason to think you can't live a normal life". Which is a pretty gloomy thought.
But what an exciting film! And as A.C.Scott wrote about "Match Point" in the New York Times: "The gloom of random, meaningless existence has rarely been so much fun."
Thursday 24 January 2008
"Jimmy" James
There have been som fine obituaries of Bertram "Jimmy" James in The Times and The Telegraph. One of his fellow retired airmen referred to him as the greatest hero of WW2. I knew him as a gentle, good natured, genial gentleman "of the old school". We attended a writers weekend together and I got to know him and like him greatly. I never thought him a hero because he never profesed to be one.
He was the second pilot in a plane that was shot down. He told me he had never jumped with a parachute before then; he landed in a field and twisted his ankle. Then he was captured and incarcerated in a POW prison. From where he esaped. Then captured again and another prison. Then the same thing again. He was one of the escapees from the prison camp featured in the film "The Great Escape" for which he acted as advisor as he did for other films and TV plays.
He was a lovely man, not in any way conceited, proud possibly but he never showed pride.
He was an exceptionally good writer. When I knew him, about ten or so years ago, he was working on a novel about a Russian soldier, a bit of a blackguard - a sort of Russian Flashman maybe - but I don't think he was successful with it. He had been quite successful with a book based on his war experiences: "Moonless Night". His friend and mine, Michael Davies, playwright, told me it was the best of the escape books he had read.
I was told that he missed my company when I decided not to attend any more of the writing weekends; he was one of the few reasons why I now wish I had continued going.
He was the second pilot in a plane that was shot down. He told me he had never jumped with a parachute before then; he landed in a field and twisted his ankle. Then he was captured and incarcerated in a POW prison. From where he esaped. Then captured again and another prison. Then the same thing again. He was one of the escapees from the prison camp featured in the film "The Great Escape" for which he acted as advisor as he did for other films and TV plays.
He was a lovely man, not in any way conceited, proud possibly but he never showed pride.
He was an exceptionally good writer. When I knew him, about ten or so years ago, he was working on a novel about a Russian soldier, a bit of a blackguard - a sort of Russian Flashman maybe - but I don't think he was successful with it. He had been quite successful with a book based on his war experiences: "Moonless Night". His friend and mine, Michael Davies, playwright, told me it was the best of the escape books he had read.
I was told that he missed my company when I decided not to attend any more of the writing weekends; he was one of the few reasons why I now wish I had continued going.
Wednesday 23 January 2008
Llosa and O'Conner
A review of Mario Varga Llosa's new novel, "The Bad Girl", describes how the narrator is smitten for life by the bad girl; he shouldn't be according to all human reason, but he is. However bad the bad girl is she always returns to him and always he accepts her back. He is truly smitten for life. I suppose it happens. It happened to the husband whose wife left him to live with Frank O'Conner, the short story writer. An old Irish lady told me this story: the husband was an army captain; his wife left him to live with the writer but when O'Conner died the captain asked her to come back to him. And she did. And, as they say in the fairy tales, "they were happy ever after".
Tuesday 22 January 2008
National Treasures
Yesterday Michael Henderson was writing in the Telegraph about our (meaning his) "national treasures". Talking about "The History Boys" (which he thought pretty well a masterpiece - I don't) he thought Alan Bennett a genius (I don't) and that he qualified for a place in his national treasures list (maybe). Twiggy also qualified but Kate Moss doesn't. Morecombe does but not Wise (surely, in the words of the once popular song on love and marriage, "you can't have one without the other"; where would Morecombe have been without Wise?)
But I cannot find anything to make a real fuss about until he came to Botham. Botham a National Treasure? "Beefy" Botham? Botham the bully boy? Well I know he is one of the greatest all-round cricketers ever and that he has done some sterling work for charities, but you can't get away from the fact that he is as likeable as a bar bore. I think Martin Jonson, the once England rugby captain would have more going for him in the national treasure department - and I'm Welsh so he's automatically on my hate list.
But I cannot find anything to make a real fuss about until he came to Botham. Botham a National Treasure? "Beefy" Botham? Botham the bully boy? Well I know he is one of the greatest all-round cricketers ever and that he has done some sterling work for charities, but you can't get away from the fact that he is as likeable as a bar bore. I think Martin Jonson, the once England rugby captain would have more going for him in the national treasure department - and I'm Welsh so he's automatically on my hate list.
Monday 21 January 2008
Dali
A couple of weeks ago I bought a Salvador Dali print of a watercolour depicting, in his inimitably surrealistic style, Rome. It cost a bit. Getting it framed cost a bit too - £65 to be precise.
Why did I buy it? I have no answer to that except to say I wanted something fine for my collection of paintings by famous artists on the walls of my sitting room - all reproductions bought over the years for very small amounts, pounds and less.
Was the Dali worth buying? To me, to my wife, to my daughter and to her daughter YES.
Why is Dali not regarded these days as a great artist? Because, perhaps, he became an eccentric celebrity and seemed a silly fool at times. But he was certainly a master of the various crafts he used, unlike some modern artists who seem to me to produce works that are more interesting to talk about than to see.
Why did I buy it? I have no answer to that except to say I wanted something fine for my collection of paintings by famous artists on the walls of my sitting room - all reproductions bought over the years for very small amounts, pounds and less.
Was the Dali worth buying? To me, to my wife, to my daughter and to her daughter YES.
Why is Dali not regarded these days as a great artist? Because, perhaps, he became an eccentric celebrity and seemed a silly fool at times. But he was certainly a master of the various crafts he used, unlike some modern artists who seem to me to produce works that are more interesting to talk about than to see.
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