Color Me Grey: A Passionate Defense of Black and White

Black and White has me bewitched, but colorization just leaves me bothered and bewildered.

When Ted Turner began the colorization craze back in the 1980s, the late Roger Ebert had this to say: "There are few issues in the area of film preservation that arouse more anger than the issue of colorization. That is because it is an issue involving taste, and, to put it bluntly, anyone who can accept the idea of the colorization of black and white films has bad taste. The issue involved is so clear, and the artistic sin of colorization is so fundamentally wrong, that colorization provides a pass-fail examination. If you 'like' colorized movies, it is doubtful that you know why movies are made, or why you watch them."

To play devil's advocate for a moment, Ebert's words came from a time when the process was in its infancy, back when blurry pastel colors were inconsistently painted on videotape transfers of black and white material. Classic films like Casablanca and Yankee Doodle Dandy were among the earliest movies colorized, and the results were less than spectatular. Such early examples of colorization are completely unwatchable by today's standards, but it must be said that the process has come a long way since then. Companies like Legend Films can nowadays put a greater range of colors onto digital transfers of black and white film, and are able to apply a much greater degree of detail onto each frame, the outcomes being far more convincing (yet ultimately no more realistic) than those done three decades ago.

But my "praise" for the process ends there. While interesting when applied to historical war footage, such as the attack on Pearl Harbor for instance, the use of colorization has primarily been applied to the world of entertainment. And that's where things get prickly. Many of those creatively involved with the making of classic black and white film and television are no longer with us, and many who are still around have universally denounced the process from the getgo. Prominent Hollywood figures like George Lucas, John Huston, Anjelica Huston, James Stewart and Woody Allen were among the loudest of those against the process, as was critic Roger Ebert.

The advent of DVD and digital technology caused the issue of colorization to rear its head once more to a severe degree. Fox's library of Shirley Temple films were recolorized for DVD, as were perennial classics like It's a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street. Fortunately, in those cases, the studios also included restored black and white versions. The same thing also happened in 2007 when a number of vintage The Three Stooges shorts were issued by Columbia Tri-Star.

“The best thing about this DVD release is it gives the consumer the ultimate choice,” said an executive about The Three Stooges DVDs. “They can watch the very best, the finest restored image of the black-and-white version, or watch the new colorized version and switch instantaneously between the two.”

Not that everyone (myself included) saw it that way. Director Sam Raimi, a long time Stooges fan, was unimpressed. “I don't think they should mess with black and white," he said. "I think they should just leave it as they are and try to preserve them as best they can. I feel like it’s an artistic interpretation that’s not anybody’s right to make except the director’s.”

George Lucas concurred about the Stooges, and suggested that color would ruin the humor. “Would color distract from their comedy and make it not as funny anymore?” he said. “Maybe just the fact that they’re in black and white makes it funny, because their humor is dated...by putting it in black and white, it puts it in a context where you can appreciate it for what it was. But you try to make it in full living color and try to compare it to a Jim Carrey movie, then it’s hard for young people to understand. Because you’re then thinking you’re comparing apples to apples, when you’re not. You’re comparing apples to oranges. I’m saying it’s not fair to the artist.”

Stefan Kanfer put forward a similar theory when discussing the unsurpassed legacy of Lucille Ball and I Love Lucy. "The comediens to whom Lucy has been compared, those who achieved iconic status worldwide...all capered before the Technicolor era. Even Bob Hope, who was still filming into the 1980s, is best remembered for his pre-color work in such films as My Favorite Brunette and the Road pictures. The clowns who came to prominence after 1960, when color became the norm rather than the exception, have by and large been supernovas, glowing brilliantly - and then vanishing into the void. There is something incompatible about humor and color; the palette calls attention to itself, instead of the jokes...Lucy stays eternally comic because of the vital, frenzied, ireeproducible years when the Ball of Fire got it all down in black and white."

There is great truth in what Kanfer writes. Fans of Lucille Ball will of course be aware that her television career carried on for nearly three more decades after I Love Lucy ended its run. From 1963 onwards, her shows were filmed in color, and were broadcast in color from 1965 onwards. Yet as funny and wonderful as The Lucy Show, Here's Lucy and her color films and specials were, they're hardly responsible for her legendary status today. Ask any casual fan what they remember Lucille Ball for, and the response will be this: I Love Lucy. It isn't her movies we reflect back on day to day. It isn't her subsequent television shows, both of which are rarely seen on television anymore, that sustain her in our memories. It's I Love Lucy in all it's black and white glory that keeps her burning eternally in the minds of her audience.

Which makes the prospect of colorizing this most sacred of sitcoms all the more troublesome. To date, three episodes have been colorized at different times, and all three of which will be available this fall on a new DVD set. Proponents of the process argue that it's necessary in order to sustain her legacy for younger generations, many of whom have shown reluctance at watching anything in black and white. But if we're going to go so far as to add artificial color to every episode in order to appease the masses, why stop there? Many people still may hesitate to watch it because they're not familiar with the time period or actors involved. Should every episode be remade with Kim Kardashian as Lucy and Paris Hilton as Ethel in order to really draw in the younger crowd? It's a fine line that is more than likely to be crossed (give them an inch, they'll take a mile), so best not to mess with it at all.

A colorization proponent recently tried to argue with me by saying that viewers will still have a choice to see it in black and white if they so choose. That may be entirely true, but eventually, if colorization takes off even more, that choice will become all the more difficult to make. Whereas many releases include both versions in the same set, Sony Pictures Home Entertainment took a different approach when releasing the early seasons of Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie, issuing alternate b/w and colorized sets that had to be purchased separately. All well and good, except that the black and white releases eventually vanished from store shelves entirely, with only the color copies remaining. True, those black and white sets are available from online retailers, but that's about the only place they remain available. Try streaming those early seasons online: colorized only. Try buying the complete series boxsets for both shows: only the colorized episodes included. And good luck if you live outside the United States, where only the colorized versions were released. Where's the choice in that, I ask you? There's almost no way to view those episodes as filmed and intended nowadays without putting effort into it, and it shouldn't have to be that way. If there were truly a choice involved, both would be available equally. But that is not the case.

Even in situations where color reference photos and footage exist, and surviving costumes/props are still around for additional reference, opponents of colorization argue that it's still a bogus process. Costumes, props, set coloring and makeup were not chosen for black and white projects based on their color, but rather how they photographed in black and white. Roger Ebert even went so far as to say that, were colorization artists truly concerned with matching colors as closely as possible, that actors faces would be colored light green in order to match the makeup necessary to photograph fleshtones more accurately in black and white. There is also the question of the lighting differences for black and white vs. color.

"Black and white movies present the deliberate absence of color," argued Ebert. "This makes them less realistic than color films (for the real world is in color). They are more dreamlike, more pure, composed of shapes and forms and movements and light and shadow. Color films can simply be illuminated. Black and white films have to be lighted. With color, you can throw light in everywhere, and the colors will help the viewer determine one shape from another, and the foreground from the background. With black and white, everything would tend toward a shapeless blur if it were not for meticulous attention to light and shadow, which can actually create a world in which the lighting creates a heirarchy of moral values."

Even when the technology improved, Ebert remained one of the staunchest opponents, and his two basic arguments remained the same. "1: Black and white is a legitimate and beautiful artistic choice in motion pictures, creating feelings and effects that cannot be obtained any other way. 2: 'Colorization' does not produce color movies, but only sad and sickening travesties of black and white movies, their lighting destroyed, their atmospheres polluted, their moods altered almost at random by the addition of an artificial layer of coloring that is little more than legalized vandalism."

And despite such improvements, there is no doubt that colorization still looks, and will always look, artificial. No matter how much time invested, and no matter how talented the artists involved, it will never be able to accurately reflect the way color is filmed.

In the end, it's all about money, just like everything in show business. But what is popular seldom lines up with what is right, and people have a habit of making bad choices if given alternatives. The simple fact of the matter is that there shouldn't be any choice to begin with. If someone has an issue watching black and white, that's their problem. And when people have a problem, the thing to do is work on it. Take the time and let someone explain why black and white is beautiful, and learn to love it for what it is. Don't expect the entire world to constantly bow down and alter everything to suit your limited taste. Entitlement and narrow-mindedness run rampant nowadays and such attitudes should not be reinforced.

I'm all for progress in the world of society and civil rights and what have you. But this is different. This is art we're talking about. Art that is a reflection of its time and needs to be respected as such. Learn to love black and white. Open your eyes and absorb its beauty. And if you truly can't stomach watching something the way it was filmed and intended, then you have no business watching it at all.  

Sources:

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Film_colorization.

 

Ebert, Roger. "'Casablanca' Gets Colorized, but Don't Play It Again, Ted." Web. 11 Aug. 2013. http://www.rogerebert.com/interviews/casablanca-gets-colorized-but-dont-play-it-again-ted

 

Kanfer, Stefan. "A Marx Sister." Ball of Fire: The Tumultuous Life and Comic Art of Lucille Ball. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2003. Print.

 

Riding, Alan. "Film Makers Are Victors In a Lawsuit on Coloring." N.p., 25 Aug. 1991. Web.

 

"Stooges DVD Revives Colorization Debate." TODAY.com. Associated Press, n.d. Web. 11 Aug. 2013. <http://www.today.com/id/5651949>.

Lucy & Desi: The Conception and Legacy of a Turgid Biography

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When Lucille Ball passed away on April 26th, 1989 at the age of 77, the entire world grieved the loss of everyone’s favorite funny lady. In response to her death, everything Lucy related took a huge upsurge in popularity. CBS’s already popular I Love Lucy videotapes were flying off the shelves, reruns were bringing in sensational ratings, and memorabilia were fast becoming collector’s items. But while the world was in love with the show, not everyone knew as much about Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz as they did Lucy and Ricky Ricardo.

Such was the thought that occurred to producer Larry Thompson, who decided to produce a telefilm in 1990 chronicling the early years of Lucy and Desi’s relationship leading up to the creation of I Love Lucy. Not only was it an opportunity to educate the public on the private lives of America’s favorite couple, it was also a chance for Thompson to provide what he felt would be a tribute to the recently departed Lucille and her ex-husband Desi, who died of lung cancer in 1986.

Doing a biographical film for a well-known celebrity is always a gamble, as it’s very difficult for even the most gifted of actors to inhabit all the qualities of a person so ingrained on the public consciousness. It’s even more challenging to create an effective illusion when big name actors are called upon to play the big names portrayed in the film. So Thompson decided the time was right to find some fresh talent to bring Lucy and Desi to life.

"In light of the fact that so many people in America and around the world have such an image of what these people look like, we'd like to cast people who don't bring their own fame to the role," said Thompson. A well-known face "would get in the way" of audience acceptance of the cast, he said. ''We don't need big names. We already have the two biggest stars in TV history on our marquee: Desi and Lucy Arnaz.”

Casting calls were held in Los Angeles, Miami and New York on July 16th, 18th and 20th, respectively. More than 1,000 hopefuls turned up at the three calls, every type of Lucy and Desi imaginable: tall, short, young, old, heavy, skinny. Even those who knew they didn’t stand a chance showed up just to say they were there.

The casting calls certainly generated much interest and publicity, but ultimately didn’t fetch the hoped for results. "I [got] calls from everything from a woman who said she was Lucy incarnate and had to play the part, to a woman from Australia who wanted directions to my office," Thompson said, who mostly learned what he didn’t want from the sessions. Despite his desire for unknowns, he realized that, more likely than not, professionals would be needed. Having a hunch this would be necessary, Thompson had earlier arranged private interviews with 29 well-known actresses as a safety net.

Among the stable of pros waiting in the wings was 38 year-old Frances Fisher, best remembered today for playing Ruth DeWitt-Bukater in James Cameron's Titanic. Fisher's angular features not only bore a certain resemblance to Lucille Ball, she was also a redhead…a natural redhead. For her, playing Lucille Ball would be realizing a dream role.

Fisher had first been intrigued by the idea of playing Ball back in 1982, when a photographer had commented on her physical resemblance to the comedienne. “It was the first time I realized there was a similarity,” said Fisher. “Over the years, when one of her old movies came on TV, I’d watch it. I’d read whatever I could find about her. I got it into my head I’d like to play her one day. I was fascinated by this woman.” Although she and Ball never met, Fisher did entertain the idea of introducing herself. “I wanted to tell her I wanted to play her story, but that would’ve been presumptuous.”

Despite the open casting calls, Fisher had the distinction of being the first actress interviewed for the role. “When CBS said they were doing the movie, I went back to the same photographer and was made up to look like Lucy in the 1940s and ‘50s. I was the first one called because of my enthusiasm.”

That enthusiasm paid off. In October of 1990, Larry Thompson concluded that Frances should be his Lucy, and thus his leading lady was cast. “I wanted to find someone who looked the part and also had the vulnerability and comedic ability,” said Thompson. For him, that was Fisher.

For his leading man, 27 year old Maurice Benard, best known at the time as Nico Kelly on the popular soap opera All My Children, was selected to play Desi. John Wheeler, who had appeared opposite the real Lucy in Mame as well as in an episode of Here’s Lucy, was chosen to play William Frawley, while Robin Pearson Rose donned the schlumpy bathrobe of Ethel Mertz to portray Vivian Vance. Veteran director Charles Jarrott, meanwhile, was assigned directorial duties.

Wheeler wasn’t the only cast member who had worked with or known Lucille in real life. Jim Brochu, who had befriended Ball in her later years and penned the book Lucy in the Afternoon, played Max, while Lucille’s Life With Lucy co-star Larry Anderson was cast as Percy.

The film itself takes place on September 8th, 1951, the day the very first I Love Lucy episode was filmed. As everyone anxiously prepares for the show, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz frequently pause and gaze reminiscently into space, each pause leading to a series of flashbacks that detail how the couple first met, the trials and tribulations of their romance, and the actions that led to them joining forces to do television. For all the ups and downs of their relationship that the film dramatizes, it ends on a high note: Lucille and Desi waving enthusiastically at the audience as the camera freeze frames, with the obligatory TV movie subtitle informing us of how successful  I Love Lucy became. The ending was deliberately open-ended, as Larry Thompson envisioned making two more films chronicling the further adventures of Lucy and Desi if this one proved successful.

Unfortunately, despite the pedigree of those involved with the production, controversy about the film had already begun even prior to its development. Lucie Arnaz and Desi Arnaz Jr. had initially approached CBS prior to their mother’s passing about doing a biographical film about Desi Arnaz. A script was written and underwent extensive rewrites by Lucie’s husband, Larry Luckinbill, but CBS turned down the offer. Luckinbill then joined forces with his manager Larry Thompson, and the two of them again tried to sell CBS on the idea. CBS was uninterested, however, in doing a film strictly about Desi. They were more interested in pursuing a story about both Lucy and Desi. It wasn’t until after Lucille’s death that Luckinbill and Thompson returned to CBS and agreed to a story dealing with Lucy and Desi’s relationship. However, Lucie Arnaz learned that she would not have final script approval, and withdrew her support for the idea. Luckinbill and Thompson parted ways, and it appeared as if the project was dead.

Imagine Lucie’s shock, therefore, when she opened Variety not long afterwards to find that Thompson was proceeding with the project on his own. It was all the more upsetting due to CBS having given her the distinct impression that no film would be produced without her consent and involvement. “I totally freaked,” said Arnaz. “I felt CBS would not have done this. I felt raped, to say the least.”

Arnaz felt even worse after reading an early draft of William Luce and Cynthia A. Cherbak’s screenplay, which she found “shallow” and “extraordinarily biased” in making her mother a hero and her father a villain.  “I just thought it wasn't enough,” added Lucie. “I wanted to see a deeper story. I wanted to see what made these people tick.”

She immediately arranged a meeting with CBS President Jeff Sagansky to try and get him to call off production. “Don’t you think they deserve better than this?” Arnaz asked tearfully, handing him the script. Unfortunately for Lucie, it was too late. CBS informed her that it would be cost prohibitive to buy Thompson out of his production commitment and that the film would go ahead as planned.

Though Lucie continued to make her grievances known, she was careful to mention that she held Sagansky blameless, given that the project had been given the greenlight by his predecessors Kim LeMasters and Pat Faulstich. It was important that Lucie not tread too hard on any toes at CBS due to her starring role in the dramedy Sons and Daughters airing on the network. “I’d like to tell all 1,200 people with Nielsen boxes to please watch,” she said with forced diplomacy. “I would like to see CBS get a great rating on this movie, make a fortune, and then spend it on scripts for our series. I’d like to tell the other 40 million people, however, that there is more to this story – and someday somebody will tell it right.” (For the record, Sons and Daughters lasted a mere 7 episodes)

Desi Arnaz Jr. also made it clear that he was on his sister’s side. “This project is not authorized by our family, and to defend our position or say anything about it would validate the film, which we have no interest in doing.”

In spite of all the negative publicity generated by the Arnaz children, Thompson boldly stood by his production through it all. He proudly boasted that it was a “truthful but loving” depiction of Lucy and Desi’s life together, and casually handwaved Lucie’s critcisms. “We are telling a factual story. If we were to tell it differently than how I told it, it would be untrue. I think I told the truth in a loving way. I have the fantasy that she and the rest of the family will eventually see it and they will like it.”

Frances Fisher, though aware of Lucie and Desi Jr.’s concerns, chose to keep her distance and focus on the part as best as she knew how. “I approached it as I would any role,” she said. “I tried to perceive what she was all about. We’re storytellers, we’re not doing a documentary. All we’re doing is interpreting a story. Nobody but Lucille Ball knew what really went on. We approached it with respect and admiration. We all loved Lucille Ball.”

Not that she didn’t sympathize with the Arnaz children’s defensiveness of their parents. “I feel very protective about Lucille Ball. I want it to be done right, and as a tribute to her, because she was such an amazing woman. All I can say is, I did it with the best intentions and with a lot of love.”

Fisher admitted to being most nervous about the reaction to her recreating  I Love Lucy moments. “My only concern were the portions of the movie where I play Lucy Ricardo. That’s the Lucille Ball people know. That’s how they remember her. I knew that if I didn’t catch the essence of that, the public would shoot me down.”

Thompson continued to defend his position all throughout production and promotion of the film, which was being billed as a “fascinating, kiss and tell biography” by the network. “I’ve been a fan of  I Love Lucy all my life. I happen to think the CBS movie is a loving tribute done with taste and style. After the show airs, I think the American public will continue to love Lucy and Ricky Ricardo, but they will also now love Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz because they will know more about them."

CBS broadcast the film on February 10th, 1991. In spite of Thompson’s pride over the film and despite Fisher’s best intentions, the reception was less than positive critically. People magazine felt the “bitter bio-flick” was “nicely photographed and costumed” and carried “considerable nostalgic weight behind it” but deemed the performances “terrible.” It also criticized “the clumsy set pieces that [made] up the exposition” and concluded by mocking Maurice Benard’s affected Cuban accent: “If ju goan to do something so tacky, at least make it funny.” The final grade given was a C minus.

John J. O’Connor, writing for the New York Times, was even more merciless, calling it “so terrible it shouldn’t be missed. Television milestones don’t come along all that often.” Despite his issues with the script and execution, O’Connor did have some encouraging words for the two stars: “Seen from the right angle, and under careful lighting, Ms. Fisher does bear an uncanny resemblance to our Lucy. And playing Desi Arnaz, Maurice Benard is reasonably on target, getting the cute Cuban accent down pat and singing ‘Babalu’ without looking too silly.” (Desi’s singing voice was dubbed by Robert West)

In the Desert News, Scott. D Pierce lauded Frances Fisher: “In makeup, Fisher bears a sometimes-startling resemblance to Ball. But what makes her portrayal of Lucy believable is her ability to act, not simply do an imitation.” But the niceties ended there, with Pierce going on to say that Benard “fails miserably” as Arnaz and that the film as a whole was a shallow cash-in: “The biggest problem with this movie is that it's obvious there's only one reason it was produced - to bring in big ratings by trading on the name of Lucille Ball.”

Ken Tucker, writing for Entertainment Weekly, wasn’t much more charitable, lamenting how Lucy and Desi were “reduced to the simplest stereotypes”, Arnaz an “incurable womanizer” and Lucille “a self-righteous bore.” He criticized Benard’s lack of similarity to Desi in addition to the way the character was written, although he did write kindly of Fisher: “her face will remind you of Ball’s angularity, and she does a good job of imitating Ball’s pop-eyed double takes and breathless screeching.” He ultimately concluded that “reducing a TV legend to the banal story of a troubled marriage…is a woeful mistake” and that “CBS has wound up trashing two of its most illustrious stars.”

Tom Jicha of the South Florida Sun Sentinel was upset at the film’s less than thorough detailing of Desi Arnaz’s contribution to the television industry, and likened Benard’s performance to Al Pacino’s Scarface doing a Desi impression. He did admire Fisher's appearance as Ball, however: “Fisher`s resemblance to the legend she plays is so striking, it`s distracting. You`re liable to find yourself gawking increduously at the screen, oblivious to the story.”

But the most damning vilification still came from Lucie Arnaz. Contrary to Thompson’s fantasy, she did not appreciate the final product at all. “It exploited their worst faults and it didn’t explain much about them as people. It didn’t even get the history right of the I Love Lucy show being created, and I thought…there must be a way to show these two people and be more realistic and have more fun watching it but also answer some questions.” It was largely in response to Before the Laughter that Lucie and her husband produced the Emmy award winning documentary Lucy & Desi: A Home Movie, which featured interviews and rare footage of the Arnaz family’s private life to tell their story.

Arnaz’s biggest beef with Before the Laughter was its depiction of Desi’s infidelity, bluntly dramatized in several scenes. One in particular showed Lucille discovering Desi and a blonde starlet embracing on a bus. Although aware that infidelities did occur to an extent in real life, Arnaz found the film’s handling of the matter to be in poor taste. “They can’t prove any of those things. [The producers] haven’t interviewed anyone who knew them as private people. This film is based on nothing.” It should be noted that Thompson disputes that claim, saying he did interview people who knew Lucy and Desi as well as conducting extensive research with the screenwriters in books, articles, magazines and videotapes.

“Everybody thinks I didn’t want my parents’ flaws shown,” Lucie said. “But that’s not true. What I found distressing was that this is a very surface piece. I did everything I could possibly do to stop this from happening. This is not their lives…This is a much a cartoon of their lives as any unauthorized fiction.”

Though easy to forget nowadays, not all reviews were negative. Mick Martin and Marsha Porter, in their popular Video Guide book, gave the film 3 out of 5 stars, calling it a “warts and all portrayal” that was “particularly distinguished by Frances Fisher’s passionate turn as the redheaded queen of comedy,” although they did advise it was not for those who wished to maintain the I Love Lucy image of Lucy and Desi being just like Lucy and Ricky.

Linda Seger, in her book The Art of Adaptation: Turning Fact and Fiction into Film, complemented the screenplay’s format. “The present-tense scenes helped structure and frame the flashback scenes, which were somewhat episodic. Without some kind of frame or structuring, they would have seemed like random scenes from two lives, instead of forming a cohesive narrative line.”

The Los Angeles Times, though critical of the screenwriters for “unfortunately [devoting] too much agonizing to the clash between Arnaz’s irrepressible libido and Ball’s fear of losing him to another woman” nonetheless praised the production and costume design as well as the casting: “Frances Fisher's wide-eyed Ball is pert and expressive. Her live-stage clown act as a warm-up to her ‘Lucy’ pilot and her black-and-white reproductions of a classic ‘Lucy’ kitchen episode are the movie's sweetest moments.” This was in stark contrast to People Magazine’s view of those recreations, which found them to be “totally torturous.”

The LA Times also gave Benard one of the very few positive notices he received for playing Desi: “Maurice Benard's shorter, shoulder-swaying lothario catches the boyish charm of a ba-ba-loo [sic] bongo player. Benard also conveys in the ‘Lucy’ acts the subtle, skillful Arnaz timing that was easily overlooked.”

Benard himself certainly wouldn’t offer that appraisal, and has gone on to express regret over the nature of the project. ''Frances and I worked so hard on the movie. But from the beginning, it was a mess. Lucy and Desi's daughter Lucie hated the concept. So did the public. They wanted to see the Lucy and Desi they knew from television, not the real couple.”

When asked about the film’s portrayal of Arnaz, Benard said that “he was brilliant in business. So much of what television is about today - reruns, syndication - that is because of Desi, and the movie didn't do much with that.''

Benard also blamed his lack of acting ability at the time for negatively affecting his performance. “I really thought I knew what I was doing. And from an emotional point of view, I did. I use my acting as a way of showing my own emotions, which I keep pretty much to myself in real life. But there is more to acting than emotions. I went to an acting coach in L.A. He looked at me and said I was awful. You bet it hurt. But he was right. I had no technical ability. I have that now.''

Looking back on the project, there’s a lot he would do differently. “My wife and I watched it on TV a few years after it came out. There was a scene and my wife looked over at me and I said, ‘What did you think?’ She got quiet and I said, ‘I know, pretty bad.’ I had him down as far as an impersonation. I studied his voice and mannerisms. But if I were to do it again now, I would go way deeper inside into who he was…I've had to learn to lie about that performance because a lot of people have told me it was great. I'm thinking, ’Are you serious?’ But now I'll just say, ‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’"

Today, the film is a largely forgotten cult oddity, a vaguely remembered footnote in the annals of television biopic history. It was popular enough at the time to warrant an official VHS and Laserdisc release from Republic Pictures, both of which are long out of print and command high prices on the secondhand market. Perhaps one day it will receive an official DVD or digital release, given the rather high curiosity factor among Lucy and Desi’s younger fan base that missed the film when it premiered. The lack of critical success did nothing to dampen Larry Thompson’s spirits, who went on to produce Lifetime’s ill-received Liz & Dick biopic with Lindsay Lohan in 2012. Thompson even boasted of his credentials with the Lucy and Desi movie when discussing Liz and Dick (couples with the initials L and D better look out for Thompson down the line).

Despite the subsequent video release (not to mention two Emmy nominations, for hairstyling and costume design), the critical reaction and ratings were such that Thompson never realized his dream of making a Lucy and Desi trilogy. In 2003, after interest in Lucy and Desi peaked again after the 50th anniversary of  I Love Lucy in 2001, Storyline Entertainment produced a second Lucille Ball biopic entitled Lucy, which CBS aired on May 4th of that year. That film, which starred Rachel York as Lucille Ball and Daniel Pino as Desi Arnaz, still received mixed reviews but on the whole the reception was considerably more positive. The second film also sparked re-interest in this initial outing, and both films are worth comparing for their very different takes on the same couple.

Regardless of one’s opinion of the film, it does stand at an important point in Lucy/Desi history. As Stefan Kanfer notes in his book Ball of Fire, it was one of several projects in the early 90s that “marked the beginning of the apotheosis, a phenomenon that was to make Lucille Ball unique in the history of American show business”. The movie neither enhanced nor tarnished Lucille’s image in the eyes of the public. It merely commented on it. Lucy and Desi’s popularity never dwindled for an instant. And today, even in an age when black-and-white is often looked down upon by younger generations,  I Love Lucy is as vividly remembered and respected as it ever was. With countless biographies written, every episode available on DVD, and yearly conventions in Lucille’s hometown of Jamestown, New York, Lucy’s life remains as fresh and invigorating today as it did back in 1990 when a film producer set out to create a biographical tribute. But whether or not he succeeded or failed is irrelevant, as the film is merely proof of the biggest success of all: Lucille Ball’s never-ending popularity in the eyes of her audience.

Sources

Andrews, Bart. "No Desi, No 'Lucy' : New Movie on Ball, Arnaz Sets Author Piecing Together The Teaming That Made TV History." Editorial. The Los Angeles Times 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 10 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.latimes.com/1991-02-10/news/tv-1219_1_i-love-lucy>.

Bernstein, Sharon. "They Live Lucy : Television: The Producers Said They Wanted Unknowns to Audition for 'Lucy and Desi: Before the Laughter.' Redheads Came Running." Editorial. The Los Angeles Times 17 July 1990: n. pag. Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 17 July 1990. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.latimes.com/1990-07-17/entertainment/ca-142_1_lucy-trivia>.

Buck, Jerry. "Lucy Look-alike Frances Fisher Realizes Dream Role in 'Lucy' Movie." Daily Gazette 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Print.

Carlson, Timothy. "The Lucy Movie: An Angry Family Speaks Out." TV Guide 9-15 Feb. 1991: 2-6. Web.

Chapman, Francesca. "'Lucy': No Love For Desi." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. Philadelphia Inquirer 08 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Www.articles.philly.com. Web. <http://articles.philly.com/1991-02-08/entertainment/25773116_1_lucy-and-desi-maurice-benard-desi-arnaz>.

Hiltbrand, David. "Picks and Pans Review." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. People 11 Feb. 1991: n. pag. People.com. 11 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.people.com/people/archive/article/0,,20114368,00.html>.

Hirsch, Lynda. "'Desi' Experience Humbled 'Gh' Top Dog Maurice Benard." Editorial. Orlando Sentinel 16 May 1994: n. pag. Orlando Sentinel. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.orlandosentinel.com/1994-05-16/lifestyle/9405141027_1_maurice-benard-lucy-and-desi-desi-arnaz>.

Jicha, Tom. "Movie Explores Lucy And Desi Legend." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. Sun Sentinel [South Palm Beach] 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Sun Sentinel. 10 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.sun-sentinel.com/1991-02-10/entertainment/9101070899_1_lucy-desi-desi-arnaz-lucie-arnaz>.

Kanfer, Stefan. "A Marx Sister." Ball of Fire: The Tumultuous Life & Comedic Art of Lucille Ball. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2003. 303. Print.

Loynd, Ray. "TV Reviews : 'Lucy & Desi': A Love-Hate Scenario." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. The Los Angeles Times 09 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 09 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.latimes.com/1991-02-09/entertainment/ca-642_1_love-lucy>.

"LUCIE ARNAZ SHOWS LITTLE LOVE FOR CBS MOVIE ABOUT PARENTS." Editorial. Desert News [Salt Lake City] 5 Feb. 1991: n. pag. DeseretNews.com. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.deseretnews.com/article/145540/LUCIE-ARNAZ-SHOWS-LITTLE-LOVE-FOR-CBS-MOVIE-ABOUT-PARENTS.html?pg=all>.

Lucy and Desi: A Home Movie. Prod. Lucie Arnaz and Larry Luckinbill. MPI Home Video, 1993. DVD.

Martin, Mick, and Marsha Porter. "Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter." DVD & Video Guide 2005. New York: Ballantine, 2004. 675. Print.

O'Connor, John J. "TV Weekend; Lucy and Desi, Behind the Screen." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. The New York Times 08 Feb. 1991: n. pag. The New York Times. The New York Times, 08 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.nytimes.com/1991/02/08/arts/tv-weekend-lucy-and-desi-behind-the-screen.html>.

Pierce, Scott D. "CBS OWES LUCILLE BALL, DESI ARNAZ MORE THAN `BEFORE THE LAUGHTER'" Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. Desert News [Salt Lake City] 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. DeseretNews.com. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.deseretnews.com/article/146539/CBS-OWES-LUCILLE-BALL-DESI-ARNAZ-MORE-THAN-BEFORE-THE-LAUGHTER.html?pg=all>.

Sanello, Frank. "`Lucy & Desi` No Laughing Matter To Lucie Arnaz." Rev. of Lucy & Desi: Before the Laughter. Chicago Tribune 10 Feb. 1991: n. pag. Chicago Tribune. 10 Feb. 1991. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://articles.chicagotribune.com/1991-02-10/entertainment/9101120888_1_lucy-desi-love-lucy-desi-arnaz>.

Seger, Linda. "Creating the Second Original." The Art of Adaptation: Turning Fact and Fiction into Film. New York: H. Holt, 1992. 104. Print.

"We Love Soaps Interview Exclusive - Maurice Benard." Sonny & Mike. N.p., 11 Mar. 2011. Web. 29 July 2013. <http://www.sonnyandmike.com/welovesoapsinterviewmauricebenard03112011.htm>.



Elisabeth Das Musical: The Wagner Connection

 

To appreciate modern works of opera and musical theatre is to appreciate Richard Wagner.   His ideal of the gesamtkunstwerk led to the formation of composition and staging techniques that largely reformed the medium of theatre.  By arguing that drama told through music was the purest form of drama, he provided a strong countermovement to realism.   He allowed for character emotion and stories to unfold in deeper, more complex ways than had previously been achievable, perhaps most notably through recurring musical passages called leitmotifs that were identified with particular characters or events and symbolically expressed their inner psyche and personal growth.  Although Wagner did not create the leitmotif, he was the first to make use of it so powerfully.  His music dramas, among them Tristan und Isolde and the four works comprising the Ring Cycle , are prime examples of his many ideals coming together in one work of art, arguably leading the way to 20^th century music.  Many popular theatrical and classical composers have built upon his ideals to this day, from Andrew Lloyd Webber to Stephen Sondheim, to Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg.  In particular, Michael Kunze and Sylvester Levay’s pop-opera Elisabeth is an ideal example of Wagner’s lasting influence.  An examination of Elisabeth, its musical compositions and staging techniques, will reveal lasting traits used to express not only characterization but also symbolism: that is, exploration of realistic events in non-realistic ways.  In addition, it can show how pop operas tend to deviate from Wagner’s ideals.  A thorough examination will highlight the strengths and weaknesses of pop opera when compared to the founding principles of the gesamtkunstwerk.

 

Considering his contempt for commercial art, it is perhaps ironic that Wagner’s biggest influence has been in the worlds of cinema and musical theatre, two of the most commercial entertainment forms to become popular in the 20^th century.  Author Patrick Carnegy notes that “Wagner’s reforms have been so successfully assimilated into accepted modern theatre practice that one can easily lose sight of how radical his ideas were in his time and how hard he had to fight for them” (6).  Wagner would no doubt be mortified that Andrew Lloyd Webber, as commercial a composer as one can find, not only incorporates Wagnerian musical ideals into his works but also presents them at his own version of Bayreuth: Sydmonton Court at his Hampshire estate (Sam Staggs, Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard, 322).  The biggest difference between Bayreuth and Sydmonton is that Webber mainly uses his venue to test how viable his shows’ commercial prospects are, instead of immersing the audience in a total work of art.  Whether or not Wagner would approve is beside the point; his influence is felt in music heard everywhere today, even though most are not aware of it.  Perhaps audiences failed to notice that Che Guevara and Eva Perón’s two big numbers in Lloyd Webber’s Evita, “Oh, What a Circus” and “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina”, respectively, share the same melody albeit with different tempos, orchestrations and, of course, lyrics.  The tune is a leitmotif, and can be interpreted to indicate the biting contempt the antagonist feels for the protagonist, as well as her increasing dominance as a public figure. 

 

Wagner’s musical ideals thus prove themselves to be perfect not only for opera, but for pop-opera as well: for expression of character, emotion and symbolic interpretations of literal-minded events.  In Boublil and Schönberg’s Les Misérables, for example, the ghost of Fantine appears in the final scene, singing a reprise of the same leitmotif she sang on her deathbed, this time aimed at Jean Valjean directly before his death.  The scene is made much more powerful and moving by the use of music and symbolism than it would had Valjean simply passed away silently, for Fantine’s presence and the music heightens the reality of his death and raises him to salvation.  It is through techniques like these that Wagner has perhaps elevated certain aspects of modern commercial entertainment to a level of complexity that might not have otherwise been attainable.  As author Ethan Mordden notes, “pop opera is not a pop version of opera.  It’s an opera version of pop: building opera’s intensity out of the vernacular musical idiom” (82).  While many pop-operas can be viewed as such, some tend to be more operatic in nature than others.

 

A prime example of the sophistication the pop-opera genre is capable of is Elisabeth.  Considering Empress Elisabeth of Austria lived during Wagner’s lifetime, it is ironic his artistic ideals would go on to influence her musical biography.  Even more ironically, her cousin, King Ludwig II of Bavaria, was the major financer of Wagner’s Bayreuth Festspielhaus, and would one day himself become the subject of a musical.  The tragic story of the “Reluctant Empress”, burdened by duty when all she wanted was to be free, would seem the perfect subject for romantic melodrama.  Indeed, some of the films based on her life have oversimplified her to cartoonish proportions, but lyricist Michael Kunze and composer Sylvester Levay had a different approach.  Although some would categorize their work as just “another of those romantic continental spectacles with a pop-opera score such as [North Americans] never get over here despite their tremendous success in Europe” (Mordden, 230), its cleverness and strong Wagnerian influence should not go unnoticed.  By creating a piece of music drama, to be staged with mainly precise recreations of period décor and costuming, Kunze and Levay attempted to tell the story of ‘Sisi’ in a balanced and honest way, while using the benefits of musical composition to explore her character in greater depth.

 

The musical opens in purgatory.  Luigi Lucheni, her assassin and the narrator of the piece, is being questioned as to why he murdered Elisabeth one hundred years before.  Lucheni then calls forth the dead aristocracy to sing about the life and legacy of Elisabeth.  As originally staged in Vienna at the Theater an der Wien in 1992, and subsequently in its 2003 revival at the same venue, Lucheni mounts a lowered platform that proceeds to rise, as the dead aristocracy rise from beneath the stage.  It is here that the first leitmotif is heard: the theme sung by the aristocracy that will be presented again throughout the piece to emphasize the power Elisabeth held over the collective consciousness.

 

The benefit of telling Sisi’s story operatically is that the music can help symbolically represent very real aspects of her life.  In examples of her poetry, Sisi stated that her only true love was death itself.  Therefore, “Der Tod” is presented as a character, personified in the form of a handsome young man who saves Sisi’s life at an early age, leading to a lifelong fascination between them both.   Máté Kamarás, who played Death in the Vienna revival, sees his character “as having thousands of faces.  Elisabeth is the only one who sees the face of Death in this piece” (Máté Kamarás, Backstage Elisabeth).  Personifying Death as a man allows for onstage interaction between him and Elisabeth: a physical representation of her inner turmoil and struggle with life.  Death’s main leitmotif appears on his first entrance, and reappears at his intrusion into Elisabeth and Franz Josef’s first dance together.  In “Der Letzte Tanz”, he ominously and seductively declares that her final dance belongs to him alone.

 

Another song associated with Death is “Die Schatten Werden Länger”, which associates itself with the drastic measures Death takes to win the full affections of Elisabeth; if she ignores him, the shadows will continue to grow over her life.  It first appears in Act I upon the death of Elisabeth’s daughter, Sophie, as Death reveals the corpse of her baby lying within the confines of his carriage, flanked by his winged minions.  He has taken her life as a message to Elisabeth, who becomes enraged and even more determined to ignore his future advances.  Death then forms a close bond with Sisi’s psychologically fragile son, Rudolf, and shares a duet reprise of the song with him in Act II.

 

Rudolf, coincidentally also the subject of his own musical, has a small but symbolically rich role in Elisabeth.  His troubled nature is revealed early in Act II with the song “Mama, Wo Bist Du”, where the frightened and lonely child wonders why his mother never has time for him.  Death appears and comforts the small boy, forming a bond with the child to serve his own ends.  Later on, an older Rudolf is finally ready to embrace Death after a harsh confrontation with his mother, and dances to the “Mayerling Waltz”.  Death and his minions, dressed to represent Rudolf’s lover, Mary Vetsera, dance with him, and Death convinces him to commit suicide by gently handing him a revolver.  At Rudolf’s funeral, a crestfallen Elisabeth sings a reprise of Rudolf’s leitmotif, this time entitled “Totenklage”. 

 

Leitmotifs are also used to contrast altering emotional states in Elisabeth.  The love between Franz Josef and Elisabeth and its eventual loss are expressed through the same theme.  It is first heard in the duet “Nichts ist Schwer”, where the two declare that nothing matters now that they are in love.  Over time, however, Elisabeth begins to see her marriage for what it is, and grows apart from her politically-minded and overbearing husband.  Shortly before the final curtain, after many years have passed and Elisabeth has faced much hardship and loss, the theme reappears as a second duet called “Boote in der Nacht”: this time with Franz Josef begging Sisi to return home, but with her lamenting that they are ships passing in the night, and that love cannot heal the pains of their past.  Likewise, Sisi’s first song, “Wie Du”, where the carefree fifteen-year-old happily tells her father that she wants to be exactly like him, is reprised in Act II: this time with the aged, hardened Sisi hearing the voice of her long-departed father, still wishing to be like him, and having no desire to communicate with the living any longer.  The “Wie Du” reprise is made even more haunting by having Elisabeth and her father sing the song in a major key, with the orchestrations alternating between major and minor.  This reprise is a good example of the powerful effect transforming leitmotifs can have.  By having Sisi sing in a major key, it reflects the same happy longing that she had the first time she sang it.  By having the orchestrations in major and minor keys, it shows that her wishes are futile: she will not be granted her desires during her lifetime.

 

Archduchess Sophie is the primary antagonist of the piece, being an overbearing force on Elisabeth.  Her leitmotif first appears in “Eine Kaiserin Muss Glänzen”, where she provides strict rules that Sisi must obey, for an Empress must sparkle.  Directly before the Act I finale, Countess Eszterhazy, Sisi’s lady-in-waiting assigned to her by Sophie to oversee her education, sings the same theme, this time as “Uns’re Kaiserin Soll Sich Wiegen”, celebrating that Sisi is no longer a political threat as she has become too self-absorbed.  The theme is then heard again in Act II in a confrontation between Sophie and her son, Franz Josef, where she stands by her belief that Elisabeth was not meant to be an Empress.

 

Luigi Lucheni is one of the few characters to have any lines that are spoken, not sung.  He appears in nearly every scene to comment on the action and inform the audience on what is happening, usually as himself but occasionally in the guise of another to interact with the characters, therefore serving a function similar to Che Guevara’s role in Evita.  His primary leitmotif serves as the opening for Act II, “Kitsch”, where he snidely informs the audience of Elisabeth’s unfortunate commercial appeal.  It is reprised shortly before the final curtain as “Mein Neues Sortiment”, where he comments on his growing collection of Elisabeth “merchandise”.  The tempo is then made Rubato, and Lucheni foreshadows the ultimate fate of Elisabeth and Franz Josef’s relationship, which is revealed in the following scene in “Boote in der Nacht”.  His other major song is in Act I, entitled “Milch”, where he reveals to the citizens the reason as to why their access to milk has been cut off: it is being used to bathe the Empress.  The same melody is heard again in Act II as “Hass”, this time in a minor key, to represent another uprising by a sect of citizens: the hatred expressed by the Anti-Semites over Elisabeth’s decision to erect a statue of Jewish poet Heinrich Heine.  The song is performed entirely by the chorus and not Lucheni, and is chanted rather than sung, with the Anti-Semites dressed uniformly with porcelain doll masks and long braids.  In both cases, the song represents displeasure by a group of citizens over something Elisabeth has done.  This time, however, the crowd is in the wrong and Sisi is in the right.  It allows the audience to reconsider the negative connotations of its first use by portraying the Anti-Semites’ hate over a morally responsible decision made by Sisi; exactly the opposite meaning of its initial appearance.  It is a haunting image made even more potent by the harshness of the reprise.

 

The leitmotif associated most closely with the character of Elisabeth is first heard midway through Act I.  Lamenting the discipline being forced on her by her mother-in-law, Archduchess Sophie, at the Hapsburg court, she boldly declares that her life belongs to her in “Ich Gehör Nur Mir”.  It appears again in the Act I finale, first sung by Franz Josef as an apology to her for the discipline and limitations Sophie has been forcing on her.  Then it is sung by Elisabeth as she makes her entrance, wearing the famous white dress with her hair studded with diamonds, an image immortalized in the portrait by Franz Xaver Winterhalter.  As a symbolic homage to this portrait, the Vienna staging presents Elisabeth standing within a gold frame, in the exact same pose as in the portrait, before stepping out to assert her independence to both Franz Josef and Death.  Fittingly, since this is the music associated with Elisabeth’s desire for freedom, it also serves as the musical’s finale.  Both characters have achieved their through-actions: the assassinated Elisabeth finally embraces Death and the long awaited freedom that only her own death could provide, while Death declares that she belongs to him at long last, creating a powerful juxtaposition of their respective desires.  The final image is of Lucheni hovering overhead and tying a noose around his neck, preparing to embrace death as well.

 

As fittingly Wagnerian as Elisabeth is in many respects, it does not entirely conform to his musical ideal.  “Ich Gehör Nur Mir”, for example, has its longest rendition in Act I, when Sisi first sings it.  In its first incarnation, serving not so much to further the plot as to comment on Sisi’s desires, it is more akin to an aria than the through-music Wagner utilized.  The story pauses to allow Sisi to express her innermost thoughts, and the song is arguably written so as to showcase the vocal talent of the actress singing it.  It is therefore more of an opera seria moment, the type of opera Wagner loathed most, than an example of dramma per musica.  It is here that pop-opera proves itself to have opera seria tendencies, as most, if not all pop-operas, do include numbers specifically designed to show off the strengths of the singer, and are also carefully designed to be performed as stand-alone singles.  Given Wagner’s disdain for commercialism, he would not approve of this.   The song’s later renditions, however, are more Wagnerian in style, as they are shorter and actually work to advance the plot rather than just comment on it.

 

Certain numbers are only heard once.  Though most do flow cohesively into one another and work to advance the story, and their lack of repetition is a deliberate choice, their singularity distances them from Wagner’s idea of a cohesive score.  “Wenn Ich Tanzen Will”, for example, was written nine years after the opera’s premiere as an addition to the first production mounted in Germany, in Essen.  Ethan Mordden notes that people “hostile to pop-opera could adduce [such] endless retooling to their charges of insubstantial composition” (79).  The song’s contribution to the piece should not be underestimated, however, as it is the only true duet Elisabeth and Death have together, but it is more a comment on their love-hate relationship than a plot-moving device and is also a prime vocal showcase for both actors.  Pop-opera cynics may argue that it was only added as incentive to buy the Essen cast album to hear the “big new song”, and Wagner would undoubtedly loathe the idea of adding music only to boost commercial appeal instead of benefitting the work.  However, “Wenn Ich Tanzen Will” manages to strengthen the audience’s understanding of Sisi’s relationship with Death by showing her forcefully oppose his advances in addition to being entertaining.  It therefore inadvertently associates itself with the best of both opera seria and dramma per musica.

 

Whether he would have liked it or not, Richard Wagner’s theatrical reformations proved an invaluable resource to the development of future works of entertainment.  In any case, an idea as grand as the gesamtkunstwerk should not be meant to solely please the elite.  The splendor of all forms of art coming together into one spectacular whole could surely be appreciated by even the most uncultured of civilians.  Works like Elisabeth, chronicling the life of a famous historical figure, can educate as well as entertain.  This strengthens their appeal to a wider audience, for art can be valued by everyone in different ways.  In the end, it is up to each member of the audience to take what they will from theatrical works, and if one person, and one alone, finds total satisfaction with what he has seen, then the gesamtkunstwerk has been achieved.

 

Works Cited:

 

Borchmeyer, Dieter. Richard Wagner: Theory and Theatre. Trans. Stewart Spencer. Oxford: 

Clarendon, 1991. Print.

Carnegy, Patrick. Wagner and the Art of the Theatre. New Haven and London: Yale UP, 2006. Print.

Mordden, Ethan. The Happiest Corpse I've Ever Seen: The Last Twenty-Five Years of the Broadway Musical. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. Print.

Elisabeth: Das Musical - Live aus dem Theater an der Wien. Dir. Harry Kupfer. By Michael Kunze and Sylvester Levay. Perf. Maya Hakvoort, Máté Kamarás, Serkan Kaya, André Bauer, Else Ludwig. HitSquad Productions, 2005. DVD.

Kamarás, Máté – Backstage Elisabeth.  HitSquad Productions, 2005. DVD.

 Wagner, Nike. The Wagners: The Dramas of a Musical Dynasty. New York: Phoenix House, 2001. Print.

Byrne, Debra, and Michael Ball, perf. . Les Misérables: The Complete Symphonic Recording. By Alain

Boublil, Claude-Michel Schönberg, and Herbert Kretzmer. 1988. CD.

LuPone, Patti, and Mandy Patinkin, perf. Evita: Premiere American Recording. By Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice. 1979. CD.

Staggs, Sam. Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard: Billy Wilder, Norma Desmond and the Dark Hollywood Dream. New York: St. Martin's, 2002. Print

Sunset Boulevard & William Archer: From Screen to Stage

In his Play-Making: A Manual of Craftsmanship, William Archer sets forth specific instructions and examples of how he feels plays should be executed.  Two crucial elements addressed by Archer are those of climax and anticlimax, as well as character conversion, for both of which he pinpoints the importance of proper execution.  While Archer does take issue with many plays’ treatment of these aspects, there have been attempts that align more closely with his views.  Andrew Lloyd Webber, Don Black and Christopher Hampton’s adaptation of the film Sunset Blvd., for example, reinterprets the story for the stage, and arguably incorporates aspects of Archer’s ideal into its structure.  When addressing the finale and character conversions in Sunset Boulevard, one will see aspects that Archer would indeed agree with.  A close analysis can highlight the specific relations to Archer’s ideal.

In Chapter 18 of his Play-Making, Archer notes the difficulty of properly executing the final act of a play, especially the falling of the curtain.  The timing of the curtain fall is crucial, and “a playwright should never let his audience expect the fall of a curtain at a given point, and then balk their expectancy…”(34).  Black and Hampton made the wise decision to retain the film Sunset Blvd. ending for the stage, as both provide an ideal curtain moment.  The climax of the play occurs in scene 18, when all the main characters collide and their agendas become known, specifically Joe Gillis revealing the truth to Norma Desmond about her forgotten stardom and preparing to leave her.  The tension escalates until Norma, proudly proclaiming “I’m the greatest star of them all” (164), shoots Gillis dead.  While this effectively ends the climactic moment, it would be unsatisfying to have the curtain fall after the last gunshot rings out.  Archer would surely agree that audiences would not “feel the moment to be rightly chosen ”(34),  as there would be too much curiosity as to what happened to Norma immediately following the aftermath.  

The following scene, though short, provides a strong conclusion.  Norma has surrendered completely to her delusions and, believing she is in the studio making her cinematic return, declares: “And now, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up” (165), completely oblivious that the police are there to take her away.  It is at this precise moment where Norma’s delusions prepare to collide with reality, and to witness the actual collision would be inappropriate.  Audiences do not need to see what becomes of Norma after leaving the mansion.  Archer would surely commend Black and Hampton for not letting it “drag on when the audience feels in its heart that it is really over, and that ‘the rest is silence’ – or ought to be.” (34).  Norma’s ultimate fate should indeed remain silent, and it thankfully does so.  Film historian Sam Staggs concludes that Norma “came from the country of movie stars, a city-state outside the geography of our understanding.  And that’s where she returned in the end.” (Close-up on Sunset Boulevard, 362).  The final scene shows just enough to reveal what happened to her mind; her final destination is best left as an enigma. 

With the exception of her descent into madness, Norma is a largely consistent character.  Her primary desire to film her Salome script does not falter, nor does her fragile emotional state.  Joe Gillis, however, does undergo conversions of both will and sentiment.  When he first meets Norma, his main volition is to earn some desperately needed cash to make his car payments, lamenting that “if I lose that in this town, it’s like having my legs cut off” (141).  Even though he knew her script was a lost cause from the start, his desperation motivated his decision.  Not until the end of act 1 does he undergo a change in sentiment in his feelings for Norma, returning to her after their New Years party confrontation to console her and succumbing to her desires.  Even though he knew her script was hopeless, he was able to admit honestly that “You’ve been good to me.  You’re the only person in this stinking town that’s ever been good to me” (155), before passionately kissing her.  Director Susan Shulman, who helmed the 2^nd U.S. Tour of Sunset Boulevard, felt it crucial to fully express “that Joe [falls] in love with Norma, even if it’s for the briefest period of time” (Staggs, 361).   Since Archer felt strongly that changes in sentiment “should not merely be asserted, but proved” (35), the kiss Joe gives Norma serves as concrete proof of his present feelings.

These conversions, though important to the plot, are only fleeting.  The strongest conversion Joe makes is at the end of the play.  He has fallen in love with Betty Schaeffer by this point, a love far more honest and less shameful than his relationship with Norma.  Archer’s disappointment that changes in volition “are not always adequately motivated” (35) would assuredly not carry over into Sunset Boulevard.  Joe Gillis’s decision to free Betty Schaeffer and leave Norma is the culmination of the character’s journey; his shame at selling out and aiding Norma’s dementia becomes too great to handle, and he fully admits his regret in his final speeches to both Betty and Norma.  His change of will also incorporates a change in sentiment; his love for Norma was merely temporary.  Like her impossible screenplay, their love was a delusional hope from the start, a love that ultimately proved fatal to Gillis and maddening to Norma.

William Archer would probably find Sunset Boulevard to be satisfying on many levels.  The writers did not merely copy the film, but reworked it “to meet the demands of music and the stage” (Staggs, 321), structuring it with theatrical guidelines Archer himself believed in.  Though the play may not feature an original story, its plot and characters reflect the complexity of classic dramas that preceded it.  Most importantly to Archer’s guidelines, it presents characters that develop appropriately and culminates in an emotionally satisfying final curtain.

Works Cited:
Archer, William. Play-Making: A Manual of Craftsmanship - Dramaturgy Handbook. PP. 32-36
Perry, George. Sunset Boulevard: From Movie to Musical. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1993. Print.
Staggs, Sam. Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard: Billy Wilder, Norma Desmond and the Dark Hollywood Dream. New York: St. Martin's, 2002. Print.

Patti, Glenn & Sunset: Analyzing Two Very Different Normas

No words can tell the stories their eyes tell...

When discussing the various actresses who have played Norma Desmond over the years in Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Sunset Boulevard", author Sam Staggs, in his book "Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard" had this to say:


 

So many contenders, and the search goes on for the one who gave the great, the definitive performance. It's a question opera fanatics used to ask. They argued, yelled, debated and fought over it: You're dirt if you think Tebaldi's a better Violetta/Mimi/Butterfly than Callas! Dame Joan? Gimme a break. Monserrat can sing it but she can't act...Jessye has the most fabulous instrument...You should have heard Zinka Milanow, now there was a great...Bubbles...Leontyne...Schwartzkopf. Where are they now, the voices and the fans, the claques, the passion, the factions, the opinions, and the worship?

 

 

It's easy enough to answer that last question. Today, the voices, fans, claques, passion, factions, opinions and worship (not to mention plenty of drudging) are found on youtube comment pages, Broadway World forums, Amazon reviews, Facebook groups, IMDb boards, and too many other online communities to name. The subject is no longer opera per se, but musical theatre as a whole. Thanks to "High School Musical" and "Glee", not to mention megamusicals aimed at tweens like "Wicked" and "Hairspray", more people than ever are becoming musical theatre "experts". They argue, yell, debate and fight every single day. Once in a while an insightful and/or respectful comment is made, but more often than not it's vitriol aimed at another for having the audacity not to share the same opinions that they do. I myself have been guilty of this behavior in the past but am trying to veer towards more respectful, objective evaluation nowadays. Personally, it sickens me to see juvenile banter that reveals no insight and accomplishes nothing. At the end of the day, you will always feel you were right and nothing will change your mind. End of story.

 

Negatively comparing actors who have played the same role is a particular pet peeve of mine. It's an inevitable hazard with play/musical revivals and replacement casts. No one actor can stay with a role forever, and no part should ever die with an actor, so eventually somebody else will come in. Especially if the original actor was quite beloved in the part, there will naturally be much scrutiny to see how the replacement holds up. Many people will refuse to accept a new interpretation of the role and dismiss the new performer outright, while others may appreciate the new actor's take on the character moreso than that of the original actor and as a result find a whole new appreciation for the piece, and so on and so forth. In a perfect world, each performance would be compared, contrasted and ultimately appreciated for what it is, but sadly, we do not live in that world as of yet. 

 

A lot of the venom spewed on these online communities tends to result from differing opinions on these multiple interpretations. Frances Rufelle's Eponine compared to Lea Salonga's Eponine is a common one, not to mention all the actresses who've played Fantine over the years coming under scrutiny ("LuPone is definitive, Graff's a pale imitation/Byrne's emotion is unparalleled/Henshall's voice is too tight", for example). And not just musicals that have made it in America, either. Ones only popular in Europe suffer the same fate, with Pia Douwes and Maya Hakvoort often being compared for their performance of the titular character in "Elisabeth". Usually these comparisons involve the women of musical theatre, in part due to the broader selection of big roles for women as opposed to men, but occasionally the various Phantoms and Sweeney Todds and Marius Pontmercys pop in from time to time.

 

But there's no doubt that some of the biggest bones of contention one will encounter are the Norma Desmond debates, specifically Patti LuPone vs. Glenn Close. Despite the many actresses who have played the role over the years, most critiques seem to zero in on these two for several reasons. Firstly, they were the two original Normas, and the only two to have their (nearly) complete performances preserved on record, as opposed to the highlights albums and singles featuring subsequent Normas. Secondly, and most crucially, due to the controversy surrounding their casting. For those not familiar with the scandal, here's a brief summary:

Patti LuPone opened the show in London in July of 1993, with a signed contract stating she'd take the show to New York the following year. However, before the Broadway premiere, the show would open in Los Angeles with a completely different cast, including Glenn Close as Norma. Patti's reviews in England were mostly positive, but most American critics who saw the show were less impressed. When Glenn Close received rave reviews, rumors began to swirl that the financial backers would want to go with Close instead of LuPone in New York. Lloyd Webber and his company, Really Useful Group, denied this staunchly, yet still the rumors continued to spread, making LuPone understandably upset. RUG continued to say Patti would do New York, until February of 1994, when Lloyd Webber and RUG finally decided to cancel LuPone's contract and bring Close to Broadway instead. LuPone was naturally furious, hurt and humiliated, and hasn't been on speaking terms with Lloyd Webber since. Despite a heafty payout for breaking her contract, LuPone would never forgive anyone involved in the incident and continues to harbor ill feelings to this day. As for Glenn Close, she was met with thunderous acclaim in New York and even picked up a Tony Award for Best Actress (although with only 2 nominees in the category that year, it would have been in the bag for either Close or LuPone).

This naturally has created very mixed feelings amonst fans of the show. Those on LuPone's side not only admire her performance but also have a great deal of sympathy, arguing that Close was a usurper who stole the role from LuPone. Then there are those on Close's side who felt she was better cast and that Lloyd Webber made the right decision to bring her to New York, and that showbusiness is rough and Patti needs to get over it. Is one camp right and the other wrong?

Any answer to that, of course, will be subjective. There is no right or wrong answer here. There are only facts: facts about their individual performances and of the creative decisions that lead to the debacle. It is certainly true that Patti LuPone did NOT deserve the treatment she was given, and she was hurt solely because of bad business decisions and cowardice on behalf of the creative team. In hindsight, it seems foolish of Lloyd Webber to contract her for New York knowing that there'd be another Norma in Los Angeles before then. The smart decision would have been to hold off casting for New York until both productions and their stars were established. Yes, somebody would still lose out, but at least there wouldn't have been any broken promises.

Despite her impressive acting credentials, LuPone's fame is largely due to her singing voice, as those are the recordings that reach the public at large. Plus, her voice is legendary, and for good reason. She has a delivery style and timbre all her own; there's never mistaking her for someone else. Unlike many of the American Idol-esque clones that permeate musical theatre nowadays, LuPone is a unique standout, never one to get lost in a flock of identical sheep. Her Evita is legendary, her Fantine bar-raising, her Mrs. Lovett revelatory and her Madame Rose a penultimate triumph. Norma Desmond is, perhaps, her most divisive role. She's often said that she wanted to avoid a campy performance and was very concerned with making Norma "extravagant but real." In short, she didn't want to give a drag queen performance, nor did she. Hers is amongst the most subtle Norma Desmonds, at least in regards to acting. Vocally, LuPone pulls no punches and delivers a performance described as both "Broadwayesque and operatic" - no easy feat. Most of the criticism directed at her zeroed in on her acting, or perceived "lack" of acting, rather than her singing. Many found her too human, too sane. Perhaps in her desire to avoid camp she restrained herself too much during her early days of doing the part. LuPone herself even felt she got better after she was fired, due to the anger she felt at RUG mirroring the anger Norma felt at the current film industry. Surviving glimpses of her final performances show tremendous growth in the role, both vocally and emotionally, and there's no doubt that her personal experience helped her identify with Norma more than ever before and lent a sense of urgency and truth to her performance that perhaps, through no fault of her own, she simply couldn't find early on. If only the cast album were recorded later in the run...

Glenn Close is a horse of a completely different color. Whereas LuPone started off demure, Close was full-on intensity right from the very beginning. Where LuPone's speaking voice was subdued and dripping with passive-agressive disdain, Close's voice was loud and commanding and burning with fury. Here was the performance the critics were waiting for. A movie star playing a movie star, what could be more appropriate? Extravagant, manipulative, theatrical, dynamic...here was the intense Norma they'd been hoping for. On the album, some of her line readings are pure Cruella DeVil, but as with London the recording was made very early on in the run. Glenn herself admitted the recording didn't capture her at her best, wishing it had been made in New York when she was more comfortable with the part. And while her singing voice was no match for LuPone's power, oftentimes full-blooded singing isn't the only way to approach a show. Sometimes an imperfect voice can lend the right amount of emotion and character that a perfect voice cannot. Critics of Close have cited the stark contrast between her head and chest voice as a negativity, and have also taken issue with the songs that were lowered in key to accommodate her range. Personally, this never bothered me. Dropping the keys was as much about creating a darker tone for the show as it was for Glenn's voice, and different keys can reveal different layers of the character depending on the actress in question. Naturally, some LuPone fans seem to take great pleasure at knocking Glenn for not having Patti's range (though they seem to have no problem with Patti performing "Sweeney Todd" and "Gypsy" in keys that are lower than the originals). LuPone's performance was appropriate for the key she sang in, and Close's was too.

While those are some of the major differences between the two actresses, I could go on for hours about the particular elements of each performance and all the subtleties therein, but there's no need. You can describe to your hearts content, but the simple truth is that they're different. No matter those involved, each performance is unique. You can have the view that there's only one way to play the part, and anyone who doesn't stick to that mold is wrong, or you can take each performance in turn and figure out how different interpretations can add or take away from a show. There is nothing wrong with having a preference, that's unavoidable. But there's also nothing wrong with appreciating multiple versions of the same thing. At the end of the day, LuPone and Close offer two valid Norma Desmonds, each of which will appeal to different people in turn. And that goes for all the other Normas, and the Fantines, and the Eponines, and the Phantoms, and every other musical theatre role out there that most actors would kill for. Theatre is organic, constantly growing, ever changing, ever flowing. There is no right or wrong way to do anything in the theatre. If something perhaps doesn't illicit the desired response, it can be changed come the next performance. You can do it one way this night, a different way the next. Patti LuPone and Glenn Close each contributed, and continue to contribute, to that organic lifeform that is the theatre. Their Normas bloomed and faded in turn, but thanks to the magic of cast albums those flowers can be regrown at any time. And for striving for artistic excellence and inner truth, I commend both of them for giving us new ways to dream.