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David Lean Centennial

Today is David Lean‘s 100th birthday. One of the most legendary directors in cinema, the two-time Oscar winner (who is also the namesake of the BAFTA’s Best Director award) was known for his epics, but also crossed genres with considerable ease. His early career got off to an impressive start with several collaborations with Noel Coward on adaptations of Coward’s works. He followed this with definitive screen adaptations of two of Dicken‘s most famous works (Oliver Twist and Great Expectations). I’ve not yet seen all of his films, but allow me to recall those I have…

Blithe Spirit (1945) – Highly amusing Technicolor feature starring Rex Harrison as Charles. Constance Cummings is Ruth. Original cast member Kay Hammond recreates her Elvira. Most notable is Margaret Rutherford, also from the original company, preserving her role as the scene-stealing eccentric medium Madame Arcati. (For the record, I might add that the ever-delightful Mildred Natwick originated Arcati in the first Broadway run).

Brief Encounter (1945) – Has a fleck of ash flying into a person’s eye ever been more romantic or devastating? Adapted from Coward’s one-act Still Life, the film was an overwhelming success, winning the Palme d’Or at Cannes as well as gathering a Best Actress Oscar nomination for Celia Johnson. The film is rather iconic: it’s use of the railway station, Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 for the musical score, Celia Johnson’s voice-over narration, character actor Trevor Howard as a romantic lead, the memorable climax and of course the overwhelmingly British sensibility throughout. It’s remarkable to watch today.

Summertime (1955) Lean again tackles a stage adaptation. this time Arthur Laurents’ The Time of the Cuckoo, a stage success for Shirley Booth as a spinster who carries on with a married man in Venice. Katharine Hepburn is the star. Or is it Venice? Both are remarkable to watch. The color cinematography is extraordinary and in spite of the ways the screenplay was softened, the film is still masterful and dare I say it, preferential to the original play or subsequent musical adaptation. Filmed in 1955, I’m surprised that Lean opted to use the standard Academy ratio of 1.37:1 instead of going for the widescreen expansiveness of CinemaScope or VistaVision. For such a romantic film, it starts to point towards his creative peak.

The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957) Fascinating (and fictionalized) account of British POWs who are forced to build a bridge for Japanese forces in Southeast Asia during WW2. Frequent Lean collaborator and antagonist Alec Guinness won his Academy Award as the obsessive Colonel whose behavior borders on collaboration with the enemy. William Holden stars as the sardonic escapee who reluctantly returns on a mission to the destroy the bridge. Won 7 Oscars total, including Best Picture and Director.

Lawrence of Arabia (1962) His most famous film. Hands down. If Lean had never made another film, he would still be held in renown for this desert epic. Peter O’Toole is T.E. Lawrence in this lengthy epic of the rise and fall of a megalomaniac and bizarre military genius. Two years were spent making this film and the results are extraordinary. It needs to be seen on a big screen for the first sand shot to be appreciated. It’s so stunning you think it can’t be real. A dynamic achievement that also won Best Picture and Director. Also Lean’s first collaboration with composer Maurice Jarre (who also won for that extraordinary score).

Doctor Zhivago (1965) The first Lean film I ever saw. My brother was in high school and had to watch it for his Russian class. I was entranced. The poet/doctor (Omar Sharif) whose romance for his wife and for his muse, Lara (in the role that made Julie Christie an icon) is set against the tumultuous backdrop of the Russian Revolution. Based on the Nobel prize winning novel by Boris Pasternak (which to date is the only “Russian novel” I’ve successfully read), the film is a visual delight. Also, the most famous score of any David Lean film with the balalaika-based “Lara’s Theme” later adapted into the popular song “Somewhere, My Love.” Another Oscar for Jarre. Lean didn’t hit the trifector: The Sound of Music bested Zhivago for Best Picture and Director.

A Passage to India (1984) Lean’s final film. An adaptation of E.M. Forster‘s novel about racial tensions in Colonial India. Judy Davis stars as Miss Quested, a repressed British tourist who falsely accuses a successful Indian doctor of rape (and the resulting chaos and inevitable trial). The film is superb, but most notably for the brilliant Oscar-winning turn by Dame Peggy Ashcroft as Mrs. Moore, the open-minded and kindly chaperone, whose performance alone makes the film required viewing.

"Well, I’m Not"

Only a star with the luster of Chita Rivera could shine through the abortion that was the four performance flop Bring Back Birdie, a woefully misguided sequel to Bye Bye Birdie, checking in the familiar characters twenty years down the line. (Donald O’Connor, in his Main Stem bow, succeeded Dick Van Dyke, Maria Karnilova played Mae taking over for the late Kay Medford). The spark-plug the production needed, Rivera received a Tony nomination for her efforts, which were welcomed relief for otherwise severely disappointed theatregoers. “Well, I’m Not” was her big solo effort in the second act, a follow-up of sorts to the “Shriner’s Ballet”/”Spanish Rose” numbers where Rosie defiantly sings and dances up a storm because she’s mad at Albert.

Peter Filichia recalls the first act audience reaction at the very first preview in this 2002 article.

I Dream of…Lalume?

Yes, ladies and gents, Jeannie is singing and dancing (and take note: showing her navel). Barbara Eden was one of the four stars to take part in the 1967 TV production of Kismet, that glorious ’50s operetta by Wright & Forrest using the themes of Alexandre Borodin. Jose Ferrer starred as Hajj, Anna Maria Alberghetti was Marsinah and the telecast featured an utterly atrocious performance from George Chakiris as the Caliph. (So hard to believe this man won an Oscar).

Anyway, as Lalume, Barbara vamps it up as a sex-pot love interest for Hajj. Bored with her disinterested husband, the villainous Wazir (Hans Conried), she gets to tear things up with that great showstopper, “Not Since Nineveh” in the role created on Broadway by Joan Diener and immortalized on film by Dolores Gray. Much to my surprise, she’s actually quite good (if you can forgive the general cheesiness in the orchestrations and staging). Eden later toured in productions of Woman of the Year and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. (Both of which she apparently taped for TV. Anyone seen those?) Enjoy this little treasure trove.

The Lady and Her Music

“I love it! I love it! I love this business. I wouldn’t do – look, I can’t I don’t, know how to do nothin’ else, but if I did, I wouldn’t change this for anything in the world. Whoo. I mean, you don’t know. You-you don’t know, but there is something that goes on between us, I must tell you. When you get home into the quiet of your wherever, think about what you are doing for me. You’re sending in – it’s a- it’s, it’s tangible, I can feel it. I can hear it, even when you’re quiet. It may just be pockets around here that don’t even like it, but what you sendin’ in is so positive that I’m workin’ with it, you know! I’m using it! Really, it’s fantastic. I not – I not only am – exist on you and really, when I’m out here, I don’t give a damn about anything that’s going on outside…”

Lena Horne, The Lady and Her Music

One of the finest solo Broadway efforts in history. Be sure to give it a try.

"We can’t stay here, honey, we gotta go on…"

Let it be known. I love Shirley Booth. Her films were too few and far between; and she is largely forgotten by many today save for those who remember the TV series Hazel. However, it should be Booth had an exemplary career onstage (from 1925-1970):

Liz Imbrie in the original company of The Philadelphia Story
Ruth Sherwood in the original company of My Sister Eileen
Bunny Watson in the original company of The Desk Set
Leona Samish in the original company of The Time of the Cuckoo

That isn’t even taking into consideration her musical theatre career which started with A Tree Grows in Brooklyn in 1951 (where she sings the classic “He Had Refinement” – the delivery on the cast album is so definitive you’ll never want to hear anyone else do it) and continued a downward spiral through By the Beautiful Sea and the flops Juno (a personal favorite) and Look to the Lilies.

The role for which she will be most regarded is that of Lola Delaney in William Inge‘s Come Back, Little Sheba. Booth created the part in the original Broadway production and would later recreate it for film opposite Burt Lancaster; she would become the first person to win the Tony and Oscar for the same role. Watching Booth is an unmitigated joy. A shining example of a character actress, Booth’s distinctively nasal voice, her radiating warmth and stellar range turns the film version of Sheba into an acting master class. (If you have not seen this film and are still reading this, you really should be on your way to Netflix now). Booth evokes that kind of soulful and loving reaction that is reserved mostly for beloved aunts and grandmothers. You know what I mean.

How do you describe Lola Delaney? In certain ways she reminds me of my mother: incredibly talkative, always friendly to everyone she meets and willing to talk about everything. That’s about where the similarities end. Lola is basically trapped in her marriage to Doc, her recovering alcoholic husband who is driven back to the bottle by the seemingly virginal boarder, Marie that lives with them. Marie’s a little ho. She adores the Delaney’s but she is carrying on with the muscular and lascivious Turk while all but engaged to another guy back home. She functions as a surrogate daughter for the childless Lola and Doc, but she also inadvertently wakes the demons surrounding their marriage. Basically, it’s as though they’ve settled, but Marie reminds them both of their lost youth and innocence in their own ways. By the play’s end, so much that has been left unspoken is – and as a couple must learn to cope and go on with their lives.

Not much happens, but it’s a marvel to behold. Especially by S. Epatha Merkerson in the Broadway revival. Lola is, aside from being charming and endearing, also a character of deceptive simplicity. She isn’t written with great histrionics of many other characters of the era, in fact there is an innate honesty in the way that Inge created his character. In fact many of her earthshattering moments are when she isn’t speaking at all. Merkerson’s performance is so genuine that you never felt you were watching an actress perform, but a lonely housewife managed to wander onstage and we became a part of her life, albeit for two hours. And more importantly, you never once would think you were looking at Anita van Buren, the formidable police lieutenant she’s portrayed on Law & Order for more than a decade.

There is a brilliantly constructed sequence in the first act that depicts Lola’s life after her husband has gone to work and Marie has left for school. In the first pause after she is alone, just the way she looks around the room while slowly rubbing her hands down her waist speaks inordinate volumes. Then she encounters the new mailman, whom she invites in for water and inundates with small talk. Similarly, she invites the milkman in as well immediately following. Both cases, she is desperate for kindness and kinship, the warmth and neediness that is there because Doc is complacent but emotionally distant. With the postman, she delivers a rapid-fire monologue just for the sake of conversation that leaves him wanting to leave; but the remnants of the coquettish flirt of her youth manage to win him over. Same for the milkman; whom she is even more successful for admiring his athletic physique. By the end of both brief sequences, she has won them over. This scene plays importance during the denouement where Lola is too distracted to see the mailman seal a letter and place it in the mailbox (a fulfillment of an early promise) or appreciate the milkman’s photo display in the health and fitness magazine. Yet it displays to the audience the kind of positive impact Lola’s innate goodness has on others. Not to mention how she befriended her next door neighbor Mrs. Coffman, whom at first she suspected of killing Sheba, but during the violent drunken climax, is first on hand to help Lola.

I’m loathe to reveal more of the plot since the piece isn’t quite the chestnut you’d expect. There are certain elements that could be considered archaic, but the play is unexpected in many ways. And for that, you should treat yourself to a quick read of the script, or better yet, watching the film adaptation.

The show was woefully a limited engagement (that closed on 3.16). If you got to see this actress at her peak, count yourself among the lucky. If you missed it, more’s the pity. Let’s hope S. Epatha Merkerson comes back to the boards as soon as possible.

Well, maybe next year…

With the recent glut of Sondheim revivals on Broadway, where is the full-scale (quick! someone throw garlic on John Doyle) revival of A Little Night Music? Possibly the loveliest of Sondheim’s scores, it’s one of the more accessible shows that he ever composed, with a smashing book by Hugh Wheeler and those rich orchestrations by Jonathan Tunick. My goodness, folks, perhaps LCT can bring this in when South Pacific closes? It just feels strange that to think we’re on our way to a revival of Merrily We Roll Along before this gem. I vote for Emma Thompson as Desiree and Angela as Madame. (And if Thompson were to do it as rumored for the Menier Chocolate Factory, Patricia Routledge as Madame). Enjoy this clip – one of the all-time treasures – the original, and definitive, Desiree Armfeldt, Miss Glynis Johns, recreating that famous ballad (so mercilessly butchered by pop and cabaret singers who hardly get the point of the song).

Happy Birthday, Tessie O’Shea!

Tessie O’Shea was a Welsh music hall performer who became immensely popular in the West End. Her signature song (capitalizing on her weight) was ‘Two Ton Tessie from Tennessee’, and henceforth was known affectionately to many fans as “Two Ton Tessie, ” a performer with an infectious smile, endless warmth and a clarion voice that could soar with the best of them. She made her Broadway debut in 1963 in the original cast of Noel Coward‘s final musical The Girl Who Came to Supper, which starred Jose Ferrer and Florence Henderson. Adapting Terrence Rattigan’s The Sleeping Prince, a play about an American chorus girl who arouses the desires of a Prince Regent during the coronation of George V in 1911 London, the production received negative notices for attempting to ape the highly successful My Fair Lady.

One the shows pros – and structurally, one of its cons – was creation of the role of Ada Cockle, a fish and chips peddler in the heart of London, for O’Shea, whose sole purpose was to deliver a 15 minute song cycle of music hall numbers (that ultimately didn’t advance plot or character)*. However, audiences and critics adored O’Shea and her song-cycle, and for those showstopping 15 minutes in the first act, she would receive the Tony award for Best Featured Actress in a Musical. The show itself couldn’t overcome the negative reviews and box-office drop-off (1963-64 was one of the richest seasons in the history of the American musical, with Hello, Dolly! as the toast of the town, and other memorable shows such as She Loves Me, High Spirits, 110 in the Shade and Funny Girl) and closed after 112 performances at the Broadway Theatre.

The score is rather pleasant. Typical of Coward with some operetta and pastiche materials and, as always, his witty lyrics. Ferrer acquits himself well for a poor singer. But it’s Henderson and O’Shea who get the best of the material. Henderson had two choice ballads, but also had a 10 minute showcase in the second act in which she delivered a one-woman abridgement of her character’s musical The Coconut Girl. (Much like “The London Medley” in the first act, “The Cocoanut Girl” was strictly peripheral to the story, but also brought down the house). I have a minor quibble about the latter: if Mary Morgan is so good that she can sing, dance and act the entire show by herself, then why isn’t she the star of the show, or at least the star’s understudy? But, it’s a minor quibble and a joy to hear Henderson take on the multi-octave send-up of period musicals.

O’Shea also appeared as the matriarch in the 1966 failure A Time for Singing, a sung-through musical adaptation of How Green Was My Valley. While a quick failure, the musical contained a magnificent and soaring musical score, thankfully recorded, albeit highlights. She got to lead several numbers, most notably the rousing title song. The show played 41 performances in 1966, and also starred Shani Wallis and, in his Broadway debut, George Hearn.

Many of you might recognize her from her appearances in the films Bedknobs and Broomsticks and The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming. Enjoy this entertaining lady at the top of her form.

PS – What the hell kind of accent was that, Ed?