When I say "modern music" I don't mean music of today but music starting about 1900 - Strauss, Richard that is, not one of the waltz kings, Stravinski, Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Webern, Berg, Schonberg, Ruggles (never heard of him; well, he was an American composer who was deeply insulted when he discovered that a lot of people had turned up to hear one of his works!); and now, among this group of variably talented composers, I've discovered Oliver Messiaen. Of course I had heard of him and I actually went to a concert where a piece of music by him was played - can't say I liked it but it was tolerable enough to let me give him a second chance (as if cares, or would if he was still alive). So there's a concert in a few weeks time where a piece by Messiaen is to be played.
Now, I have to say I am getting a little tired of spending good money on concerts of "modern music" which send me away in a state of near anger. It wasn't the fault of The Welsh National Youth Orchestra that I came away from their concert a few weeks ago feeling peeved rather than uplifted. They played two big works: a tone poem by Liszt which was utterly boring and Prokofiev's Fifth Symphony which I used to like but now think is, at times, ugly.
I am surprised to discover that there are a couple of music critics who have the same aversion to certain pieces of music that I have. Michael Tanner of The Spectator says "Mahler 8 has long been a work I detest." So do I. Then there's Norman Lebrecht who dislikes Messiaen: "Messiaen lodges in my critical faculty like a bone in the throat: a composer of great consequence whom I could neither ingest nor ignore."
So off to the concert to hear a piece by Messiaen - give him a second chance! But there are pieces by Ravel (I like Ravel), Saint-Seans (I like him too) and Debussy (some of whose music I like). A cello concert by Saint-seans and La Mer by Debussy - which I love. Apparently he composed it when he was at Eastbourne. No, I don't believe it. Eastbourne isn't the sort of place that inspires creative processes I would have thought. But there you have it - there's no accounting for tastes.
Tuesday 30 August 2011
Friday 26 August 2011
Book to Film
John Sutherland, writing in The Times this week, had a headline "Can the film version ever outclass the book?" He seemed to think not. Of course his article linked to the film made and distributed this week called "One Day" based on the popular novel of the same title. The film didn't live up to the book (both sound pretty awful to me, a bit like "Love Story" maybe to which handkerchiefs galore were taken - I took one to stifle my laughter). He suggested that they hardly ever do though he did draw a comparision of this film with the quite recent film "An Eduaction" which was a more successful adaptation, though that was taken from a memoire rather than a novel.
Hitchcock felt that it worked best if the book was not a good one; he made the great horror film "Psycho" which was based on a quite ordinary novel. On Desert Island Discs some time back he said he was about to make "a gentle little horror film". Gentle, my foot. The book is gentle but the film is anything but.
There have been some good films made from some good books: "Shane" for one. The character of Shane in the film, played by Alan Ladd, is much different from the one in the book who is a harder guy altogether. But both versions pass the test of watchability/readability.
I think the film of "Gone with the Wind" is rather better than the book though, I have to say, I don't want to see it again. Nor do I wish to trudge through that long book again neither. "Double Indemnity" is a superb film and an excellent read. I was surprised that a lot of the dialogue in the film is not Chandler's but comes straight out of the novel by James M. Cain.
A few of his books became films and most were good: "The Postman always rings Twice" and "Mildred Pierce" in which Joan Crawford won an oscar were the most famous.
Sutherland mentions the two versions of "Brideshead Revisited": the ghastly one made in 2006 and the TV version of 1981. He says: "The main reason it didn't work was because 113 minutes wasn't enough time to wrap itself around the novel." I think the John Mortimor adaptation was the chief factor in that it used a great deal of the original novel's narrative by that great writer and ghastly human being, Evelyn Waugh. Maybe he'd have enjoyed the ghastly version!
Hitchcock felt that it worked best if the book was not a good one; he made the great horror film "Psycho" which was based on a quite ordinary novel. On Desert Island Discs some time back he said he was about to make "a gentle little horror film". Gentle, my foot. The book is gentle but the film is anything but.
There have been some good films made from some good books: "Shane" for one. The character of Shane in the film, played by Alan Ladd, is much different from the one in the book who is a harder guy altogether. But both versions pass the test of watchability/readability.
I think the film of "Gone with the Wind" is rather better than the book though, I have to say, I don't want to see it again. Nor do I wish to trudge through that long book again neither. "Double Indemnity" is a superb film and an excellent read. I was surprised that a lot of the dialogue in the film is not Chandler's but comes straight out of the novel by James M. Cain.
A few of his books became films and most were good: "The Postman always rings Twice" and "Mildred Pierce" in which Joan Crawford won an oscar were the most famous.
Sutherland mentions the two versions of "Brideshead Revisited": the ghastly one made in 2006 and the TV version of 1981. He says: "The main reason it didn't work was because 113 minutes wasn't enough time to wrap itself around the novel." I think the John Mortimor adaptation was the chief factor in that it used a great deal of the original novel's narrative by that great writer and ghastly human being, Evelyn Waugh. Maybe he'd have enjoyed the ghastly version!
Thursday 25 August 2011
Re-makes
There was a film on the TV in the bar of the hotel we were staying in. I didn't recognise it so I asked the barman; he said it was a remake of "Assault on Pricinct 13". He added: "Remakes aren't usually as good as the originals." Well, that very afternoon I had seen a sort of remake: that of "Singing in the Rain". No, not a film remake but a theatrical remake, a transcription I suppose it might be called. Not as good as the original? Actually it was as good. Though being a different medium one can't really compare them. What was so good about it was that it was pure theatre and it was fresh - a fresh take on a well-known and well-loved picture. It had all the songs, all the dance sequences, though of course, they changed certain routines to accomodate the strict space of the stage. But it also had differences: in the number "Moses supposes his toeses are roses..." instead of the voice teacher being amazed and a little horrified at the two dancers' antics as in the film, he got wound up in the joy of their response and joined in the dance. These small changes - though rather large ones when you think of the choreography that went into their creation - gave the musical a freshness that the film now, after many viewings, does not have. (It still has something this version couldn't rise to: Cyd Charisse).
We saw this at the Chichester Theatre Festival which runs for about half the year. It will surely transfer to London in due course. If it toured to Cardiff or somewhere near I'd see it again.
We also saw Terance Rattigan's "The Deep Blue Sea" the night before. Excellent. Rattigan has the knack of moving you emotionally with a gesture: the middle-aged woman's lover picks up a piece of paper at the end of Act 1 and slowly reads it to himself. You know what it is: she failed to commit suicide and he is reading the note she left for him. Until then he's been full of beans, happy, and he may be in love; now he is, by his face, a wreck of a man. Curtain.
We saw this at the Chichester Theatre Festival which runs for about half the year. It will surely transfer to London in due course. If it toured to Cardiff or somewhere near I'd see it again.
We also saw Terance Rattigan's "The Deep Blue Sea" the night before. Excellent. Rattigan has the knack of moving you emotionally with a gesture: the middle-aged woman's lover picks up a piece of paper at the end of Act 1 and slowly reads it to himself. You know what it is: she failed to commit suicide and he is reading the note she left for him. Until then he's been full of beans, happy, and he may be in love; now he is, by his face, a wreck of a man. Curtain.
Friday 19 August 2011
Kill yourself
I was reading the back of a wine bottle today and wondered at how they are so politically correct that they don't advertise their product but play down its health defects. They tell you that if you are a woman you should drink only two to three glasses a day of this wine in the bottle and that if you are a man you should drink only three to four glasses a day. Otherwise, you get the impression, that it's going to kill you. The same sort of warning is written on the fronts of cigarette packets: "Smoking can seriously damage your health."
So, even the stuff they sell us is, according to the people who sell it, bad for you. Where's their morals? How can they be allowed to sell such dangerous stuff in a modern society which prides itself on its ethical values? Well, like the people who said about the Iraq war, "it's all about oil" (though they were wrong) this is all about making money and raising tax. An effort is made by governments to "make people healthy" so they promote these ludicrous methods of telling us that "wine is bad for you" and "smoking can kill you" so that they can feel good about things but at the same time they can sweep up a sackful lot of taxes in the process.
Of course there's always people who smoke a lot and will always do so who say something like "my father smoked all his life and never had an illness and lived to ninety two" and there are always people who say that drink is good for you and the more the better. At least they're direct and honest, But the government and, more surprisingly, the manufacturers will say one thing on the packet or bottle and take your money when you don't take their advice. I call that hypocricy which, according to Christ, was one the greatest of sins.
I was amused to read that Gerard Depardius was caught urinating on a plane since he had consumed a large quantity of wine (possibly from his own vineyard) and pleased to hear that he usually drinks about five bottles a day. Henry Whats-his-name, the cricket commentator, says he drinks at least two bottles per day and has always done so. Good for them I say because I too believe that three or four glasses oper day is far too little. Dr James Le Fanu in his book "How to live to Ninety" writes about the government limits : "there is no serious scientific basis for these recommendations which over the years have always been revised downwards. There seems little doubt that people can double this intake with no obvious untoward effect."
About smoking I'm not with the man whose father died at ninety two. Though I once smoked myself, I believe it's very bad for you. End of sermon.
So, even the stuff they sell us is, according to the people who sell it, bad for you. Where's their morals? How can they be allowed to sell such dangerous stuff in a modern society which prides itself on its ethical values? Well, like the people who said about the Iraq war, "it's all about oil" (though they were wrong) this is all about making money and raising tax. An effort is made by governments to "make people healthy" so they promote these ludicrous methods of telling us that "wine is bad for you" and "smoking can kill you" so that they can feel good about things but at the same time they can sweep up a sackful lot of taxes in the process.
Of course there's always people who smoke a lot and will always do so who say something like "my father smoked all his life and never had an illness and lived to ninety two" and there are always people who say that drink is good for you and the more the better. At least they're direct and honest, But the government and, more surprisingly, the manufacturers will say one thing on the packet or bottle and take your money when you don't take their advice. I call that hypocricy which, according to Christ, was one the greatest of sins.
I was amused to read that Gerard Depardius was caught urinating on a plane since he had consumed a large quantity of wine (possibly from his own vineyard) and pleased to hear that he usually drinks about five bottles a day. Henry Whats-his-name, the cricket commentator, says he drinks at least two bottles per day and has always done so. Good for them I say because I too believe that three or four glasses oper day is far too little. Dr James Le Fanu in his book "How to live to Ninety" writes about the government limits : "there is no serious scientific basis for these recommendations which over the years have always been revised downwards. There seems little doubt that people can double this intake with no obvious untoward effect."
About smoking I'm not with the man whose father died at ninety two. Though I once smoked myself, I believe it's very bad for you. End of sermon.
Friday 12 August 2011
Peter Hall
I'm getting to like Peter Hall. Never thought I would. Always thought him a bit smug. I have a memory of him standing outside the New Theatre in Cardiff, outside the stage door in fact: he is there looking smugly, I thought, at passers by on their way into the theatre to see the nastiest play I've ever seen: Pinter's "The Homecoming".
I picked up Hall's autobiography in the local library this morning; it was on a shelf of books for sale and since it was only 20 p I bought it thinking "well I won't be losing much if I just read the Intro". But it's quite fascinating. His childhood is interesting and entertaining. His father, the only one of his family then to date to have gone to a secondary school; his mother, with a furious temper but loving nature, given to speaking in cliches: "Better to be born lucky than rich"; "It'll all work out in the end; "a change is as good as a rest". Reminds me of my own mother! His father was a "miserably paid clerk in the goods depot at Bury St Edmunds railway station". His mother did not work - in those days most mothers didn't, their work was housework.
I have never seen a production of a play by Peter Hall that I liked much. I saw his Shakespeare History plays on TV a long time ago and felt that an earlier production of them was better. I saw a production of his of "The Wild Goose" by Ibsen and didn't like it at all: he introduiced a comic element into it that was not at all suitable, I thought. It has one of my favourite characters in all of literature in this play: Gregers Werle, an idealist who brings a family to its knees with his honesty.
But I may now get to like Peter Hall the more I delve into his life through this well-weritten autobiography. You never know, I may like one of his productions one day. But not another "The Homecoming" please.
I picked up Hall's autobiography in the local library this morning; it was on a shelf of books for sale and since it was only 20 p I bought it thinking "well I won't be losing much if I just read the Intro". But it's quite fascinating. His childhood is interesting and entertaining. His father, the only one of his family then to date to have gone to a secondary school; his mother, with a furious temper but loving nature, given to speaking in cliches: "Better to be born lucky than rich"; "It'll all work out in the end; "a change is as good as a rest". Reminds me of my own mother! His father was a "miserably paid clerk in the goods depot at Bury St Edmunds railway station". His mother did not work - in those days most mothers didn't, their work was housework.
I have never seen a production of a play by Peter Hall that I liked much. I saw his Shakespeare History plays on TV a long time ago and felt that an earlier production of them was better. I saw a production of his of "The Wild Goose" by Ibsen and didn't like it at all: he introduiced a comic element into it that was not at all suitable, I thought. It has one of my favourite characters in all of literature in this play: Gregers Werle, an idealist who brings a family to its knees with his honesty.
But I may now get to like Peter Hall the more I delve into his life through this well-weritten autobiography. You never know, I may like one of his productions one day. But not another "The Homecoming" please.
Friday 5 August 2011
Cell 211
At last a film comes along which I like. "Cell 211" is a Spanish film about a prison, probably the toughest in Spain, full of the dregs of Spanish society. In the beginning along comes a nice guy who is about to become the new warden; the trouble is he arrives at the same time a riot breaks out. He is knocked out by a piece of falling masonry and the two guards with him put him in a cell, cell 211, for sakekeeping while they make a judicious and quick escape, knowing that if they stay they will be either taken as hostages or torn limb from limb by the mob of evil-eyed killers most of whom have nothing to lose, being lifers.
When he comes to his senses he realises he has to improvise and pretend to be a new prisoner. It works, after much humiliation and fear.
The film is gripping, tense and very violent; a man's ear is cut off, another is beaten to death, another has his throat cut.
On my way out a man said, speaking to an audience that wasn't there: "I've never seen anything like that, never, never."
He's right: you don't see many films like that these days that sort of grip you by the throat and take you on a journey of fear, fright, violence and some human warmth.
It took me back to "Brute Force" with Burt Lancaster, made in the early fifties. That too was an exceedingly violent film. But neither were films in which violence was there for its own sake, it was an essential part of the film's plot and theme. In both cases it was saying "here are men incarcerated in a sub-human institution with no hope except escape (in the Holywood film) or (a better deal on human rights) in this film.
Which made me think that Spanish prisons do not have the same schemes of rehabitulation that other European prisons have. Or conditions for those who have no hope of improvement in their well-being.
I have read recently that Norway is far ahead of most other European countries in their rehabitulation schemes - I don't think we need refer to any of the prisons in the Arab countries in comparision - they are hell holes it seems.
In Norway only 20% of released criminals go on to carry out further cries. In this country the percentage is 75%. Having seen "Cell 211" I guess the number must be nearer 90%.
Good film, strong message.
When he comes to his senses he realises he has to improvise and pretend to be a new prisoner. It works, after much humiliation and fear.
The film is gripping, tense and very violent; a man's ear is cut off, another is beaten to death, another has his throat cut.
On my way out a man said, speaking to an audience that wasn't there: "I've never seen anything like that, never, never."
He's right: you don't see many films like that these days that sort of grip you by the throat and take you on a journey of fear, fright, violence and some human warmth.
It took me back to "Brute Force" with Burt Lancaster, made in the early fifties. That too was an exceedingly violent film. But neither were films in which violence was there for its own sake, it was an essential part of the film's plot and theme. In both cases it was saying "here are men incarcerated in a sub-human institution with no hope except escape (in the Holywood film) or (a better deal on human rights) in this film.
Which made me think that Spanish prisons do not have the same schemes of rehabitulation that other European prisons have. Or conditions for those who have no hope of improvement in their well-being.
I have read recently that Norway is far ahead of most other European countries in their rehabitulation schemes - I don't think we need refer to any of the prisons in the Arab countries in comparision - they are hell holes it seems.
In Norway only 20% of released criminals go on to carry out further cries. In this country the percentage is 75%. Having seen "Cell 211" I guess the number must be nearer 90%.
Good film, strong message.
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