Author: Film and Musicals Geek

My Fair Lady

I’ve been away for a while and am back with a corker. The tale of a Cockney flower girl trained to be passed off as a lady for a bet. Based on George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, the delightful My Fair Lady. With a memorable score by Lerner and Loewe, no wonder it’s such a successful show. The Broadway premiere in 1956 starred Julie Andrews as Eliza Doolittle and Rex Harrison as professor Henry Higgins. Audrey Hepburn played Eliza Doolittle whilst Rex Harrison reprised his stage role for the 1964 film version.

Eliza sells flowers in Covent Garden market but wishes to move up in the world. She aspires to work in a florist’s. Higgins studies phonetics, and shocked and appalled by Eliza’s speech, he writes down examples. Colonel Pickering, a linguist buys one of Eliza’s flowers. He introduces himself to Henry, realising they share a common interest. They become instant friends and Higgins invites Pickering to stay with him during his time in London.

The following day Eliza visits Higgins’ home with a view to taking speech lessons to improve her prospects. Pickering bets Higgins that he couldn’t transform Eliza to pass as a society lady in six months. The time frame coincides with the Embassy Ball at which she’ll be unveiled. Pickering even offers to pay for Eliza’s lessons concerning this social experiment.

 

Eliza moves into Higgins’ home to enable them to work together intensively. She’s taught several exercises to do, both vocally and in deportment. Almost like a finishing school pupil. I particularly remember the exercise where she has a mouthful of silver balls to help refine her vowels, and ends up swallowing one. Higgins’ pursuit of winning his bet causes a strain on Eliza until the eventual breakthrough.

Subsequently it’s a matter of building on what’s been achieved, refining Eliza’s appearance and manners. The dress rehearsal for her debut is at Ascot. It begins well enough but deteriorates once Eliza veers from the prescribed topics of conversation by expressing her true beliefs. Then during a tense moment of horse racing she swears loudly, shocking the spectators and embarrassing Higgins and Pickering.

 

This episode doesn’t deter Higgins from his plan. Eliza is presented at the Embassy Ball, charming all those who encounter her. Pickering congratulates Higgins and they wallow in their achievement, forgetting all about Eliza and her feelings. To move on with her life Eliza leaves Higgins’ house and revisits her old haunts, sadly realising she no longer belongs. Meanwhile it dawns on a lonely Higgins how important Eliza is to him, yet he never showed it.

The film is visually stunning. Hepburn wears Cecil Beaton’s Oscar winning costumes exquisitely, like a first class model. The fact her singing is dubbed is a let down, but her spirit and charm wins me over.

 

Chita Rivera

Living legend and Broadway royalty Chita Rivera was born on the 23rd of January 1933. I’ve already paid homage to this firecracker in my Kiss Of The Spiderwoman and The Rink posts, but feel she deserves individual attention. I was lucky enough to meet Ms Rivera backstage when she was appearing in London. Happy to meet her fans, she was more than willing to talk to me and patiently pose for photos. Such a gracious, warm, stylish, classy lady.

Chita’s career follows that of a gypsy made good, working her way up through the ranks. Yet she’s remained grounded, and to this day has one of the best reputations in the industry. Leading to various awards along the way and many events being held in her honour. Accomplishments include receiving the Kennedy Center Honors and Presidential Medal of Freedom.

 

Rivera’s ancestry is part Puerto Rican and she grew up in Washington. At age 15 she auditioned for and won a ballet scholarship from George Balanchine. Training that required relocating to New York. Chita’s early work was in tours and on Broadway. Dancing in the choruses of Call Me Madam, Can Can, and Mr Wonderful with Sammy Davis Jnr amongst others. Rivera’s big break came in 1957 when she originated the role of Anita in West Side Story. This musical was ground breaking on the New York stage. The London opening was postponed until after she’d had her daughter so she could reprise the role, cementing her place in musical theatre history.

 

Chita portrayed Rose in 1960’s Bye Bye Birdie alongside Dick Van Dyke. Probably the first rock and roll musical, it was an ideal part for her dazzling stage presence. Rivera’s personality shines through in numbers like What Did I Ever See In Him and Spanish Rose. The Shriner ballet is a spot on marriage of character and dance. With her facial expressions, comedic ability, and high kicking athleticism, nobody could’ve done it better.

The role of murderess Velma Kelly in Kander and Ebb’s 1975 Chicago was another high point in Rivera’s career. I was in an amateur production so am especially fond of this show. Set in the roaring twenties, it’s about society’s pre-occupation with fame, and celebrities literally getting away with murder. Totally relevant in today’s culture. From the sizzling All That Jazz to the marvellous Cell Block Tango to the animated I Can’t Do It Alone, you can’t deny this woman was born to perform. She also had a cameo in the 2002 film; nice touch.

Chita played Nickie in 1969’s Sweet Charity, although people often get confused and think it’s Rita Moreno. It’s wonderful to see her explosive dancing captured in Bob Fosse’s film. His stylised choreography was absolutely made for her. Chita’s also toured North America with her successful nightclub act. I’m in awe of the fact that she appeared on Broadway in Nine in 2003 and The Visit in 2015. Continuing to wow the crowds and prove exactly why she remains a top performer. Chita Rivera radiates that innate extra special star quality, making her unforgettable.

Douglas Sirk

Sirk was a German director whose distinctive style of film making made him the king of 1950’s melodrama. Never afraid to confront social issues, Sirk explored the dark side of suburbia in which conformity and image are everything. His films were often produced by Ross Hunter with cinematography by Russell Metty. Sirk’s influence can be seen in films and TV shows of today. Notably David Lynch’s work and Far From Heaven.

A relationship crossing class and age boundaries is the central theme of 1955’s All That Heaven Allows. Jane Wyman plays Cary Scott and Rock Hudson plays Ron Kirby. These two stars appeared in Magnificent Obsession a year earlier. A wealthy widow falls in love with her gardener, much to the dismay of her family and friends. Cary keeps the relationship a secret because she realises it’ll be frowned upon. Although her gossipy friends claim they want her to find happiness, it has to be with someone from her social circle. Following the unspoken rules of country club society and sticking to her own kind.

When Cary’s children Ned and Kay come home from university, she tells them she plans to marry. Their hypocrisy is exposed when she reveals her intended. Ron arrives for drinks and he’s met with a frosty reception and constant rude remarks. Ned basically disowns Cary, and Kay refuses to accept the relationship saying it will ruin their lives. Cary decides to break up with Ron, putting her life on hold due to her children’s unsupportive attitude.

Cary expects them home for Christmas but they’re delayed, leaving her to decorate the tree alone. Kay comes home with news of her engagement, and Ned is about to start his career abroad. They think the house should be sold as it’s too big for Cary. The penny drops, as Cary realises she has thrown away her future. Leading to the poignant moment where her children present her with a television set thinking it’s a wonderful and thoughtful gift. We see Cary’s sad reflection in the TV whilst it’s selling point’s described as “all the company you want”.

Cary knows she made a mistake, so sets about rekindling her relationship with Ron by visiting him. She can’t find him so turns to leave but he spots her from afar. In his hurry to talk to her, he falls off a steep incline. Cary’s notified about the accident and rushes to Ron’s side, where she watches over him until he regains consciousness. Cary’s stopped running away, she’s no longer afraid of love, life, or the judgement of others.

1959’s Imitation Of Life is a dramatic weepie tackling race. The star performance by (black) Juanita Moore as Annie Johnson makes this film. She delivers her lines with such sincerity and carries herself with a quiet dignity, elevating every scene she’s in. The basic plot is Annie becomes a housekeeper to a (white) actress after their daughters become friends at the beach. Annie’s daughter Sarah Jane is fair skinned and passes herself off as white. The film explores the increasingly complex relationships between both mothers and daughters.

From childhood Sarah Jane describes herself as white. No-one understands why she rejects her mother and denies her heritage. They think colour’s unimportant. As she grows up this belief intensifies. The moving part’s after Sarah Jane moves out and tells Annie she’s working in a library, but she’s actually singing in a cheap nightclub. Her employers don’t know she’s half black. Annie finds her and pleads with her to come home, but Sarah Jane walks away.

Later she writes to Annie instructing her to leave her alone. By now Annie’s terminally ill and she wants to hold her daughter once more. After investigations Sarah Jane’s located, so Annie flies out to say her goodbyes. Annie keeps her daughter’s secret by pretending she’s her mammy come to visit. When Annie returns home she’s confined to her bed. At this point she’s still listening to other people’s problems and giving words of wisdom! After the doctor says there’s nothing else they can do for Annie, she explains her living will and what she wants at her funeral. Sarah Jane arrives at the funeral unexpectedly. Forcing her way through the crowd of mourners, crying hysterically, throwing herself on Annie’s coffin asking for forgiveness. I defy you not to get choked up.

Written On The Wind was made in 1956. The opening flashback scene takes place over the credits. A man’s drinking and driving fast, then he stumbles into the house. A woman runs downstairs. There’re leaves blowing through the front door, a gunshot, a man walks out of the house and collapses, then a woman collapses in a bedroom. What pre-empted this scenario?

This film contains two seriously dysfunctional siblings; an alcoholic brother Kyle and promiscuous sister Marylee. Their father Jasper seems oblivious to these problems. The Hadley family’s wealth and power derives from the oil industry, the town’s named after them. Eventually the family’s destroyed, and father then son die.

 

Kyle feels inferior to his childhood friend Mitch who has a reliable character. Marylee has always been in love with Mitch but it’s unrequited. She causes trouble between Kyle and Mitch by suggesting Kyle’s wife Lucy has slept with Mitch. There are many phallic symbols throughout this film. After Kyle discovers he’s probably infertile, he walks past a boy vigorously riding a toy horse. Marylee inherits the family business, and sits at her father’s desk hugging a model oil well. Dressed demurely, she simultaneously has everything and nothing. It reminds me of our soap operas in the sense that these characters experience the full spectrum of human problems in a relatively short time, that we’d probably have in a lifetime.

Sirk’s films present us with a hyper sensitive version of reality. Underpinned by vivid colour and music, yet rooted in relatable issues.

Halloween Horror

This is a slight detour but on this night of trick or treating I wanted to delve into horror. The 1970s produced a plethora of horror films. Have you noticed how horror film soundtracks are particularly expressive? Take Poltergeist, Candyman, and Taste The Blood Of Dracula for example. I digress! The first two Omen films are a great starting point. The idea of Satan being half human/half jackal and taking over the world via politics is quite frankly scary. Especially when in the guise of a cherubic boy.

The scenario is firmly based in real world events and incorporates religion, increasing the plausibility factor. Unlike the OTT blood and guts horror films that border on the cartoonish, this seems like something that could potentially happen. How can we know what goes on behind closed doors amongst people in power?

1974’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is loosely based on real events. To say it’s shockingly terrifying is an understatement. Gruesome torture unfolds like a blood curdling nightmare when we realise these characters have stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. Cannibalistic Leatherface and co. are completely amoral in their relentless pursuit of their victims. Director Tobe Hooper sustains the level of violence throughout.

Nicholas Roeg’s eerie 1973 film Don’t Look Now, starring Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie as married couple John and Laura, is another favourite. During a holiday in Venice I wandered across bridges and alongside canals, imagining which scenes had been filmed where.

The opening scene is truly horrific. Utter disbelief of first John then Laura upon realising their daughter Christine has drowned. The bright red raincoat and wellington boots worn by the little girl are in stark contrast to the stillness of her death. Slow motion filming increases the sense of desperation and a “this isn’t happening” moment.

To help them heal, John’s accepts a renovation project working in Venice. It’s a gloomy grey Venice, providing a perfect backdrop for yet more tragic events. The couple encounter two sisters; one of whom is psychic and blind. They impart a warning in the form of a chilling premonition.

 

The Hunger from 1983 is another prime example. I’m lucky enough to know someone who worked on the film. They generously gave me their script. My own piece of movie memorabilia! Classical music features quite heavily too, an added bonus.

This offbeat film starred David Bowie and Catherine Deneuve as John as Miriam Blaylock. Vampires prowling the New York night, searching for human blood to maintain their youth. John begins having trouble sleeping, signifying the beginning of his end. Susan Sarandon plays Sarah, a doctor researching sleep and the ageing process. John visits her at work in the hope she can halt or reverse his deterioration. A standout sequence follows in which John ages drastically in two hours. Desperately hungry he needs to feed, but it’s too late.

 

Lonely Miriam realises she needs a new companion to replace John, as he’s succumbing to the same fate as her legion of ex lovers. Soon he’ll be confined to a coffin in the attic. Sarah feels drawn to the opulent Blaylock residence, ostensibly to talk to John. Charismatic Miriam initiates an unwitting Sarah into her private world of immortality during dreamlike lovemaking. Sarah becomes seriously ill and suspects it’s connected to Miriam. She angrily confronts Miriam, who calmly explains the situation. Sarah refuses to endure a depraved existence so kills herself. For the first time in centuries, a disconsolate Miriam is alone.

Miriam’s comeuppance occurs when, in a collective sense of betrayal, her ex lovers rise out of their coffins in an overwhelming attack. Panicked she flees, falling over the bannister to her death, before rapidly disintegrating physically. The twist at the end sees Sarah reincarnated and living in London, with Miriam doomed to the everlasting torment she once inflicted. There’s a similarity to The Picture Of Dorian Gray. Namely the eternal youth leading a secret debauched life, and consequently undergoing accelerated decaying at the point of death.

The range of horror films on offer is staggering. From creepy to blood and guts, ghostly hauntings to psychological, occult to monsters, vampires to werewolves. Allowing us to indulge our penchant for being scared, albeit from the safety of our living rooms.

Tennessee Williams

 

After a recent conversation I felt inspired to explore film adaptations of Williams’ plays. I admire his perception of relationships, and ability to write believably from both a male and female perspective. The steamy Southern settings are endlessly fascinating and quintessentially “Williamsesque”. As are the themes of faded glamour, mental instability, poverty, fractured families, and latent homosexuality which are fundamental to many of his plays.

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, A Streetcar Named Desire, Suddenly Last Summer, Sweet Bird Of Youth, The Glass Menagerie, and Baby Doll are the notable few that spring to mind. I visited one of his residences in New Orleans, feeling slightly overawed to be in a place once inhabited by a master of American literature.

 

1959’s Suddenly Last Summer starred Elizabeth Taylor, Katharine Hepburn, and Montgomery Clift. From the outset a sense of foreboding and tension is established. Mankiewicz directs the action, giving away very little, cleverly keeping us intrigued. There’s a marked contrast between the scenes set in the present, and those of the momentous summer informing the current situation.

Violet Venable dwells in denial. She goes to extraordinary lengths to protect the reputation of her dead son Sebastian who’s perfect in her eyes. Violet refuses point blank to acknowledge the reality of what he was. If his true nature and the manner in which he died are exposed, her public humiliation would be unbearable. Perhaps it would force her to face facts and confront her complicity in his lifestyle.

During their yearly Spanish summer holidays, Violet used her feminine wiles to attract men whom Sebastian would proposition. As she aged, this role fell to his cousin Catherine who witnessed his death. It traumatised her to the point of a mental breakdown and she ends up in hospital. Terrified of Catherine’s recovery, Violet tries to arrange a lobotomy for her niece to prevent this memory resurfacing. As a last resort, before proceeding with surgery, a doctor administers a truth serum to Catherine. It works and her memories begin to unfold. Catherine’s frightening depiction of how Sebastian was devoured conjures up savage images; of victims intent on revenge.

 

Having read the play a few times, it’s fair to say 1958’s Cat On A Hit Tin Roof was toned down for the big screen. This is a family with numerous skeletons in their closet. It starred Elizabeth Taylor as alluring Maggie, desperate for an intimate relationship with her husband. The sexual frustration emanating from the screen is palpable. Paul Newman plays Brick, the alcoholic ex school football star struggling to come to terms with the death of his gay friend Skipper. Burl Ives excels as plantation patriarch Big Daddy who’s terminally ill. His birthday celebration is the reason for this family get together.

Brick’s brother Gooper and his wife Mae have several children who they parade around like show ponies. They’re determined to discover how much of Big Daddy’s estate will become their inheritance. Big Mama, Big Daddy’s wife, announces that his health issues aren’t serious. Unfortunately the younger family members have lied about his prognosis to protect their elders. Brick and Maggie’s childless union is mentioned more than once.

In an attempt to understand his favoured son Brick, Big Daddy has a heart to heart with him centred around the subject of mendacity. It’s their first honest conversation and Big Daddy’s tough on Brick. We learn that Brick drinks to mask his feelings of disgust at turning his back on Skipper in his moment of need. Also Big Daddy’s motivation has been misguided. His success has been driven by accumulating possessions rather than loving his family. They yearned for his love as opposed to what money could buy. Big Daddy’s father died leaving him a battered old suitcase, so he was determined to leave his children a different legacy.

A Streetcar Named Desire was made in 1951, another play whose themes were deemed too taboo for the movies. Changes were made to satisfy Hollywood, leaving certain things open to interpretation. Marlon Brando’s Stanley Kowalski is an imposing presence. He jumps right out at you with his earthy masculinity. Kim Hunter’s Stella Kowalski seems drawn to her husband Stanley by an invisible force. Their passion in their love is as strong as in their fights.

Vivien Leigh’s Blanche DuBois is secretive, fragile, hurt by life. To survive she creates a genteel world, surrounding herself with finery. There’s also a fear of aging, always wanting to meet her gentlemen callers after dark in places with lampshades. Many of Stella’s actions are to maintain the emotional equilibrium of her older sister Blanche. Stanley doesn’t treat Blanche with kid gloves, actually he resents her presence. Blanche feels superior to Stanley and views him as an uncivilised brute. Karl Malden as Mitch provides a touch of class, a friend of Stanley’s who entranced by Blanche and becomes her beau.

The Rink

1984 saw John Kander and Fred Ebb’s musical The Rink premiere on Broadway. It starred Chita Rivera and Liza Minnelli as estranged mother Anna and daughter Angel, with libretto by Terrence McNally. I particularly enjoy it because the action focuses on two strong women. This isn’t a flashy fluffy musical with dancing chorus girls and huge production numbers, more a musical play with familial joy and sorrow at its core. Told in flashback, it conveys the drama that played out over the years at the Antonelli family’s hub, the rink. Also the people who were important in their lives. The male ensemble cast play all the characters, with the two female leads playing their characters throughout.

 

From the opening number, Coloured Lights sung by Angel, the sense of place is unmistakable. You can see the funfair at the seaside in your mind’s eye. Kander and Ebb are an exemplary songwriting duo when it comes to evoking time and place. Take Cabaret and Chicago for example. Chief Cook And Bottle Washer describes Anna’s life running the family’s roller skating rink in its heyday. Then sheer unabashed joy at the impending life of leisure once she’s free from its restraints. Don’t Ah Ma Me portrays the fractured relationship between Anna and Angel. Prodigal daughter returns home after an extended absence, full of nostalgia for the past but it’s too late, Familiar Things. She then discovers Anna plans to sell the dilapidated rink to developers.

 

When Angel was a child she was especially close to her father Dino and he tried to make his little girl’s life magical. After serving in Korea, Dino returns home feeling disengaged from family life and unable to relate to loved ones. Anna reassures her husband they can survive together, We Can Make It. There’s also humour during After All These Years when the wreckers make fun of the women’s lack of respect for each other. Later we find out what caused these problems in their relationship. The calibre of people in the neighbourhood has deteriorated with the passage of time, causing Anna and her friends to worry about their safety, What Happened To The Old Days. This fear is founded when Anna’s attacked by a group of youths.

 

During The Apple Doesn’t Fall Very Far we realise Anna and Angel actually have quite similar tastes. Perhaps one of the reasons they clash. Dino leaves his family when Angel’s young and Anna can’t stand the lonely nights so takes a series of lovers Mrs A. Earning herself a reputation in the process. Angel despises these men who aren’t her father. She feels abandoned, blames Anna, and puts Dino on an even higher pedestal. Angel tracks Dino down to confront him, and he explains he left because he felt trapped. Subsequently Angel leaves home to find herself and something to belong to, All The Children In A Row. At the end mother and daughter reconcile and Angel agrees to the rink’s demolition, realising that she was clinging to the past, and her memories are more important than a building.

 

Rivera and Minnelli’s performances on the original cast recording are fantastic. Such strong musical theatre actresses, Chita Rivera’s Tony award was richly deserved. Many of the songs ought to have a life outside the show. I saw an impressive production in repertory theatre nearly twenty years ago. It highlighted how the structure that zig zags between the past and present keeps you on your toes. This musical stands on it’s own merit without any frills to hide behind, one of the reasons why I rate The Rink so highly.

 

Linda Eder

Linda Eder is a phenomenally talented American singer! A rarity, her primal voice comfortably spans the range of standards, pop, showtunes, jazz, country, and opera. She’s reminiscent of a fine wine, whose quality gets better with time. Defining exactly why Linda’s so great is tough. I’d say it’s the depth of feeling flowing through her voice, touching my emotions. There’s an immediate connection, with no barriers or artifice. Linda’s phrasing and the seamless way she glides from note to note is practically heart stopping. Leaving me thinking “wow, you’re fu*king extraordinary!”

I first became aware of her when I attended theatre school. We learnt several songs from The Scarlet Pimpernel which prompted me to buy the soundtrack. Stunningly beautiful statuesque Linda sang the role of Marguerite. Instantly I fell in love with her captivating angelic voice so bought more of her music. She manages to sound incredibly tender yet omnipotent. I’ve yet to see her perform live (it’s on my bucket list), I know it will be exhilarating.

 

Linda won Star Search early in her career, her winning streak went uninterrupted for months. This TV show was a great platform for getting noticed by industry insiders. A sensational Broadway debut followed, starring as Lucy in Frank Wildhorn and Leslie Bricusse’s Jekyll and Hyde. Recently I rediscovered her mesmerising performance on the soundtrack. Sympathy Tenderness is sung so beautifully it’s almost too much to bear. Subsequently she recorded copious material written especially for her by Wildhorn and Jack Murphy. As befits a vocalist of this stature, Eder’s also sang at Carnegie Hall. These days you’ll find her touring the States as a successful cabaret artist. Or giving masterclasses and private lessons.

 

My favourite albums are 1999’s It’s No Secret Anymore, 2002’s Gold, 2003’s Storybook and 2011’s Now. It’s No Secret Anymore is a great listen when you want to chill. It’s full of big band style tracks, all sultry jazz and blues. Romancin’ The Blues is perfect, so intimate and inviting. This Time Around soars to seemingly impossible heights. Little Things is an understated gem of a love song. During Even Now and Vienna Eder’s velvet vocals sound crystal clear, confirming she’s in a league of her own.

 

Gold contains a wider range of tracks stylistically. Gently Break My Heart stands out, its anguished message delivered with such sensitivity. Everything That’s Wrong is a catchy song about the search for love. The title track’s a showstopper performed with gusto. The key changes in One Bad Habit from Storybook are literally breathtaking proving how accomplished Eder is. This album’s title track and When I Look At You give Linda an opportunity to exercise her belting musical theatre chops. When I Look In Your Eyes can only be described as flawless.

Now is a CD which personifies perfection. Life experience is noticeable in her voice. No Finer Man is unbelievably earnest, with an anthem like quality. The Heat Of The Night sizzles delightfully. Linda adopts a fragile tone to mirror the title song’s haunting otherworldly melody. Goodbye swings with confident big band style extravagance. The honesty of Living In The Shadows means it stays with you long afterwards. After I first heard it, I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

 

Linda cites Barbra Streisand and Judy Garland as two of her early musical inspirations. In 2005 she released a sublime album called By Myself The Songs Of Judy Garland. Eder’s version of Do It Again is the sexiest I’ve heard. It’s like being caressed by melted chocolate. The nuances of her voice during Rainbow’s End sum up her artistry and storytelling ability. Eder teases the listener but with such control. Rather than bombard us with sheer power, her tones are characterised by subtle light and shade throughout. I always get caught up in the moment.

Listening to Linda Eder sing blows my mind, her vocal range is astounding! It’s beyond me how such a luxurious voice is humanly possible. Check out this gift to the world, see if you feel the same.

 

Marnie

Hitchcock’s 1964 crime mystery Marnie is visually glorious in the style of melodrama. I’m intrigued by the plot which delves into human psychology and behaviour. Part of its charm lies in the blatant use of painted backdrops and rear projections, allowing us to perceive the action from the heroine’s perspective. Casting two gorgeous leads doesn’t hurt either. The soaring almost operatic score was Bernard Herrmann’s final successful collaboration with Hitchcock.

It’s a multi layered film with deeply disturbing themes and a close second to Vertigo in terms of top rate Hitchcock. Both films explore characters with damaged psyches resulting from traumatic experiences. Marnie’s was so severe that she buried it deep within her subconscious where it affects her daily life. She strives for purity and decency yet is compelled to steal, and has no understanding why she’s unable to form meaningful relationships. Marnie believes acquiring money can satisfy an overwhelming feeling of emptiness.

At significant moments Hitchcock floods the screen with red, representing Marnie’s intense fear of this colour. It’s done self-consciously at times, which can appear slightly unsubtle. Additionally the camera lens zooms in an exaggerated manner to emphasise Marnie’s inner turmoil and demons. Thunderstorms, knocking sounds, being woken up, feeling cold, and the concept of being appealing to men also trigger her uneasy episodes. Marnie’s one love is horses, no prizes for picking up on the Freudian connotations. When Mark arranges for Marnie’s horse Forio to be brought to their house she’s ecstatic!

 

Tippi Hedren plays the title role; a frigid compulsive liar and thief with obvious psychological issues. She carries herself with a cool detached demeanour, but also a naive childlike quality. Sean Connery plays the authoritative businessman Mark Rutland, who fancies himself as a behavioural expert and amateur psychiatrist in his spare time. Diane Baker plays Lil Mainwaring, Mark’s sister-in-law, who unlike Marnie acknowledges and plays on her sexual allure.

Marnie’s MO is to dye her hair, assume a false identity, then land a job. She then proceeds to steal a large sum of money from her employer, before moving onto another in a new city. Marnie steals from Strutt’s company and unknown to her Mark is their client. Unwittingly her next target is Mark’s publishing company. Mark suspects what happened at Strutt’s so hires Marnie out of curiosity. He’s captivated by her and sets about catching her. Marnie’s pattern continues, she steals from Rutland’s safe. Mark’s suspicions are confirmed and he threatens to inform the police meaning certain incarceration, unless Marnie agrees to marry him. Sexual blackmail! To her marriage is a form of prison due to its emotional and physical intimacy.

 

In an effort to help and understand his wife, Mark hires a private investigator to research Marnie’s background. Once he thinks he knows the complete story he decides to confront Marnie’s mother Bernice. The root cause of Marnie’s behaviour is revealed at the end of the film during this visit to Bernice’s house. The circumstances are reminiscent of that horrific night, allowing the truth to unfold in a dramatic scene. Everything stemmed from a suppressed childhood incident in which Marnie killed a man to save Bernice’s life.

 
Bernice was a single mother who worked as a prostitute to support herself. She entertained her clients in Marnie’s room, so when they arrived she’d wake her daughter up and put her back to sleep on the sofa. There was a storm that night so young Marnie felt cold and frightened. The sailor innocently tried to comfort Marnie which scared her even more, and infuriated Bernice who hit him. The sailor retaliated, they got into a fight, and he fell on her leg, trapping her and causing serious injury. Marnie needed to help her mother so she jumped up, grabbed a poker, and hit the sailor’s head until he lay bleeding motionless. Marnie relives the events of the past, unlocking her mystery, and enabling her to move on with her life.

Stephen Sondheim

Complex, intricate, unique, heartbreaking, mature, and melancholic are just a few words which describe Stephen Sondheim’s compositions. His lyrics exude such intelligent truth, never soppy sentiment. If you adore listening to music you need to really think about, then Sondheim’s your man. Even his more light hearted tunes have a tinge of sadness and awaken your emotions.

As a youngster Sondheim was mentored by Oscar Hammerstein II, who had a profound effect on his development. I often forget that his talent was behind the lyrics for 1957’s West Side Story and 1959’s Gypsy, generally associating him with the musicals he composed in their entirety.

 

The Ballad of Sweeney Todd (the first number in Sweeney Todd) has Gothic operatic undertones and sets the scene for the chilling tale. I’m not a musician but believe it’s written in a minor key giving it that eerie razor sharp tone. The combination of instruments throughout is perfect. Opening in 1979 it still sounds surprisingly contemporary. The 2012 production I saw with Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton was as fresh and brutal as though it had just been written.

 

I’m fond of 1981’s Merrily We Roll Along with its clever reverse chronological structure. The songs reflect how the relationship between three friends deteriorates over the years, after they meet filled with youthful hope and exuberance. Cynicism gradually replaces idealism. I saw a great production at the Donmar Warehouse in 2000 (was it really that long ago) and another in the West End in 2013. My favourite songs from this musical, Old Friends and Not A Day Goes By, both appear twice. This allows them to be presented in varying contexts with different lyrics, and we gain more insight into the characters.

1970’s Company is another fine musical. A group of friends gather for Robert’s birthday celebration. He’s the defiantly single protagonist who views couples with disdain. Robert’s friends are paired off, and share their experiences of love and relationships. Clearly it’s an attempt by some to persuade him and others to put him off. In the cheeky number You Could Drive A Person Crazy, a trio of Robert’s girlfriends lament his reluctance to settle down. Being Alive is the moment when it hits Robert that a life without love isn’t a life, even with the invariable ups and downs. It’s absolutely heartrending.

Into The Woods borrows characters from several fairy tales; Cinderella, Jack And The Beanstalk, Little Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White, weaving them into an original story. Debuting in 1987, it’s a quirky piece with a soaring score. For me No One Is Alone is the standout song from this musical. It’s sung by older characters to comfort younger characters who’re in mourning for their relatives. The words are poetic and honest. Stay With Me is particularly poignant as the Witch doesn’t want Rapunzel to grow up, find love, and move away. This fear of loneliness manifests itself as controlling behaviour.

 

 

There’s so much depth and power to Sondheim’s work. I wonder how closely it’s connected to his personal experiences. I can identify certain recurring themes throughout his musicals. Namely how people relate to one another, the complicated nature of relationships. We’re lucky that Sondheim has composed so many wonderful musicals, many of which are revived periodically for us to enjoy.

 

Bob Fosse

I love the work of the distinctive dancer, choreographer, and director Bob Fosse. Characterised by suggestive sinuous movements, splayed fingers in white gloves, isolation, jutting hip thrusts, and angular or hunched positions. Seemingly his remit was pushing dancers’ bodies to their limits.

 

 

I was lucky enough to see the compilation show Fosse in the West End. It featured a selection of memorable numbers from his career. Watching this live performance gave me a greater appreciation of Bob Fosse’s artistry and genius. I could also see how his style developed during his career. His early years working in Burlesque inspired his choreography, as certain numbers involved showgirls using feather fans as props.

One of his idols was Fred Astaire whose influence shows in his early work. In the documentary Steam Heat, Bob explains that he tried to imitate Fred until he discovered his own unique style. A style which developed due to his physical limitations “Thank God I wasn’t born perfect”. Fosse began losing his hair quite young so started wearing hats, and his feet never had the ballet turn out so he started turning them in.

 

Fosse choreographed a duet for himself and Carol Haney as a section of From This Moment On in 1953’s Kiss Me Kate. At this point it’s clear how individual his approach to dance was. Minimal movement followed by an explosion of limbs, jumps, and turns. His muse and third wife was Gwen Verdon. They danced together (like a mirror image) during the Who’s Got The Pain number from 1958’s Damn Yankees. Fosse worked on several successful shows with Verdon; 1955’s Damn Yankees, 1957’s New Girl In Town, 1959’s Redhead (a wonderful piece), 1966’s Sweet Charity, and 1975’s Chicago.

Steam Heat from The Pajama Game is another great example. What I find striking about this dance is the posture throughout. It’s choreographed so that the trio rarely stand up straight and their feet stay close to the ground. The phrase less is more springs to mind, so as a consequence the impact of any steps are heightened.

Big Spender from Sweet Charity is also classic Fosse. A group of dancehall hostesses with their backs to the camera, rolling their shoulders and hips, fingers spread. Subsequently they line up along a standalone bar, adopting individual poses, trying to entice the customers with subtle seductive movements. A leg over the bar, or legs apart but turned inwards, arms behind backs with hands reaching around to the hips, syncopated heel beats, clicks, and foot stamping. Then suddenly from nowhere a convulsion of gyrating arms and bodies. Only a true visionary could make this number work.

Fosse’s work conveys a fascination with two powerful forces of human nature, sex and death. Generally private and personal experiences, he openly tackled these taboo topics. Most notably in 1979’s semi autobiographical film All That Jazz. It’s actually quite disturbing in parts because it offers a complex insight into somebody else’s psyche.

Overall Fosse’s dance style exudes a knowingly confident teasing eroticism. His work transcends time, because I’ll often see a current advert or music video and realise it contains hallmarks of Fosse.