Isn't Music Supposed To Express What People Are Feeling?: Dreamgirls (2006)

While I had a different film scheduled for viewing for the last blog post of the musical marathon, and by extension, the last post of the year, I think it is fitting that I finished off with a rather contemporary work in 2006's Dreamgirls.  While I started the marathon with an early Astaire classic Top Hat, whose structure is decidedly in the classic setting, Dreamgirls made nearly seventy five years later and a century after the medium of film came into its fullest form, represents a return to the classic filmic structure, one with a linear narrative and poised look at a period in music that was heavily competitive and troublesome when one was oppressed by layers of intersectionality.  Dreamgirls is a new consideration of the Busby Berkeley style backstage musical, reconsidered for a modern audience, one that is further extended by it being an adaptation of a Broadway musical, helping to navigate some of the more showy elements at play in the film.  I worked my way through Dreamgirls wondering as to whether or not it was actually an exceptional film, or a reworking of the Oscar-bait Hollywood fare that manages to pique critics interest for subject matter alone.  Dreamgirls would be slightly more impressive were it to have committed to a stylistic cohesion of some sort, relying on musical numbers in a singular style, instead of using them both as a point of narrative advancement, as well as dialogue construction.  Furthermore, while it should be very much embraced for possessing  cast that is almost predominantly composed of African-American actors, it seems hesitant to navigate some of the more challenging and troublesome racial spaces that would have existed in the era to save face and make a universally palatable film.  I would much rather have revisited 2005's Hustle and Flow, a film that challenges 'safe' depictions of race in cinema, while also technically falling within the definition of the musical, although it is in a decidedly modern context.  The sum of all the parts of Dreamgirls are nice, but it suffers from a few too many missteps to make for a worthwhile and praiseworthy filmic experience.  Indeed, if this is one of the premier examples of the musical in the past decade, it truly is at a low point.

Dreamgirls focuses on the musical aspirations of a group of young African-American woman hoping to make it big as singers.  The three women Deena Jones (Beyonce Knowles),  Effie White (Jennifer Hudson) and Lorrell Robinson (Anika Noni Rose) are young small town girls who hope that by appearing at a local tryout for a musical competition that they could win a recording contract and subsequently make it big in the industry.  While they lose out to a blues guitarist they do catch they eye of manager and eye for musical talent Curtis Taylor Jr. (Jamie Foxx) who hopes to use them as back up singers for the aging star James 'Thunder' Early (Eddie Murphy).  While the group is hesitant, particularly Effie, to serve as backup singers, when they are promised money and a chance to make it big they jump on the opportunity, taking with them Effie's brother and performance choreographer C.C. (Keith Robinson).  While the initial stardom proves ideal for the group things quickly come to a halt when the advances of James and at various points Curtis lead to a fracturing within the group, made all the more complicated when Curtis decides to push the three women as a group act detached from James.  It is the idea of Curtis to have Deena sing lead, although both she and Effie realize that Effie is clearly the better performer.  This choice to market the group called The Dreams leads to confrontation amongst the members of the group and eventually Effie leaves in frustration.  While on sabbatical from singing, Deena makes a name for herself, although her and Curtis' relationship suffers considerably.  When James Early's old manager Marty Madison (Danny Glover) approaches Effie about returning to singing, she is initially quite hesitant, only working in small lounge fair, until the return of C.C. affords her a chance to make it big.  When this realization is discovered, Curtis takes to unethical tactics to stifle her career advancement, but after a legal battle aided by the help of Deena, the returning star finds success and eventually The Dreams make one final goodbye performance, going out on the top, much less the case for James who has by this time passed away and certainly for Curtis whose respect in the industry is all but squandered.

I want to make it rather clear that Dreamgirls is not an unwatchable film.  Indeed, many of the musical numbers are quite evocative and the performances are, for the most part, tempered by the various actors.  Eddie Murphy, much to my surprise, was probably the most well-executed acting in the film.  My concerns, come, instead from how music is used to add emotive elements to scenes that could have just as easily gained equal intensity from normal acting.  This is most glaringly troublesome during the middle section of the film when Effie decides to leave The Dreams.  While it does have a musical number proper, it is bookended by unnecessary sing-talking between the various characters that causes their dialogue to take on a nauseatingly unlistenable quality.  As a pseudo-backstage musical, the film could simply have relied on the musical performances proper as an expression of the problems at play by the characters.  Certainly, this occurs in two of the most famous backstage musicals 42nd Street and Gold Diggers of 1933 wherein the characters' emotions are affirmed by their diagetic musical numbers.  Considering that the narrative is afforded a rather large temporal space and uses the spatial breadth of radio and television to extend its narrative, the choice to use these central singing moments is somewhat baffling.  Indeed, it is in this insistence that the film require some sort of singing dialogue that Dreamgirls traipses as a rather contentious line between well-intended narrative on the black experience in music and something that is exploitative in its veiled use of grandstanding through musical dialogue.  I am not saying that this is an impossibility in the musical genre, in fact, many of the films I have encountered this month involve sung dialogue, but this is also the main means with which narrative is delivered in the film, probably the most realized in Oklahoma, wherein it is rather clear that more of the film is sung than actually spoken and from the onset it is clearly established as a film with a reality where people sing their feelings.  For Dreamgirls it has no context and its execution becomes glaringly in its poor delivery.

Key Scene:  The initial on the road sequence, when the girls join James' show is a perfect joining of cinematic tricks and performance, it is a shame the film does not attain this level of intensity throughout.

Dreamgirls is a film worth watching, but only if renting is an option.  With that being said Hustle and Flow from a year earlier is far more worthwhile.

You Were Ready For A Love Affair, But Not For Love: All That Heaven Allows (1955)

The melodrama is a staple in the history of cinema, much as the unfortunately named "women's weepie" proved to be an important sub-genre within the movement, and it is quite obvious that no direct embraced this style of filmmaking, quite like Douglas Sirk.  To call his movies simple or traditional is to read them at face value and completely ignore the degree of commitment and detail to scenery, narrative and the way actors performed their roles, within films like Written on the Wind, Sirk manages to capture both the real tragedies of the middle class, white American existence, while also proving all to aware of their problematic and privileged lifestyle relational to the world around them.  For this month of women in film I knew that it would be a huge oversight on my part not to include at least one work by Sirk, particularly since he was so closely attached to the "women's weepie" film.  While I could likely have went with pretty much any film by the late director, I felt the subject matter of his 1955 film All That Heaven Allows would prove the most useful, both in its consideration of gender expectations as they extend beyond not only class, but generations as well.  Furthermore, the acting in this film is both within the exaggerated mannerism of melodramatic tradition, while also proving to be quite refined and focused, especially via Rock Hudson, whose charm and outright presence in the film cannot be ignored.  The mix of frank considerations of oppressive societal expectations and the idyllic landscapes filmed in brilliant Technicolor result in a film that is almost otherworldly in its displays, or at the very least so slightly altered as to make the viewer quite aware of its synthetic nature.  A film like All That Heaven Allows is a favorite of many, most surprisingly that of Fassbinder, whose Ali: Fear Eats the Soul is both an homage and admittedly partial remake of Sirk's magnificent work.  This may come as a surprise to those familiar with Fassbinder's work, yet the sort of veneer that exits over the reality of authoritative oppression, reflects not only Fassbinder, but directors like David Lynch as well.

All That Heaven Allows focuses on the seemingly mundane life of Cary Scott (Jane Wyman) a widow who fills her days with half-hearted attendances of luncheons and parties, as well as planning dinners and such for her two children when they return home from college on the weekends.  Cary, while not completely detached from her late husband, seems to long for a means to move on with her life, and even though she finds herself the point of admiration for many of the older men within the country club of her town, she turns down any advances from them beyond a cocktail and some light chit-chat.  All the while, Cary has been getting trees and gardening done by a younger man named Ron Kirby (Rock Hudson) whose soft-spoken yet kind demeanor and devilishly handsome good looks, become a point of admiration for Cary, who finds herself falling for Ron.  Fortunately for Cary, Ron too seems to find himself growing fond for her, and the two begin a sweet and simple romance that centers particularly on their trips to a dilapidated barn on the outskirts of the town, a place owned by his family.  When word of their relationship makes it to town, the people begin to talk and condemn the two for engaging in what many claim to be an illicit relationship, not because Cary is a widow, but because she is so much older than Ron.  Realizing its detrimental effects on their family name, Cary's own children turn against her, eventually rejecting her desire to be with Ron, even though she emphasizes her love and earnest feelings for him.  As a result, she leaves him alone and rejects his marriage offer, only to realize that her own happiness is far to valuable to simply toss away.  What follows is an attempt to return to Ron, only to grow cold feet at the last minute.  However, seeing Cary walks away, Ron attempts to follow her only to fall of a ledge and injure himself.  Hearing the news of the accident, Cary returns to make amends with the ailing Ron who welcomes her back and the two are allowed to obtain their own world of happiness regardless of what the societal norms might suggest.

The melodrama as a genre, has always proved problematic in relation to women, particularly its emphasis that they exist within the domestic sphere.  Of course, one benefit of the melodrama, particularly from the era of filmmaking where Sirk emerge, was its heavy use of women in lead roles, an act that did challenge cinematic conventions of its time.  However, women, even in the context, of such a revolutionary film portrayal were decidedly expected to perform within perfectly aligned gender roles.  In the case of All That Heaven Allows, Cary is told that she is to play the part of the grieving widow and mother to her children, and not expected to venture into such a controversial love affair with a younger man.  It is interesting to note that she is chastised, not for seeking a new partner, in fact, she is made multiple marriage propositions in the film, however, it is her blatant choice of a younger man and, subsequently, her refusal to worry about the frivolous world of social outings to find romance.  The people of the country club, as well as her children, seem content on her remarrying to another well-off widow in order to assure financial security and that class divisions not be overlapped.  As such, one can read into the possibility that individuals are not so much upset with Cary for seeking romance with a younger person, but for doing so with somebody of such a lower class.  Regardless of their feelings and attitudes towards the arrangement, one thing is clear. they seem content to blame the entire ordeal on Cary, despite it being quite clear that Ron is also interested and involved in the initial flirtation, however, Cary is mature, educated and a mother and should, as a result, know better.  It is a film about finding love in unlikely places and the rewards present when someone opens their heart up to such possibilities, however, its dueling context of societal norms and their ability to cause an institutionalized idea of normal romance, to become internalized quite quickly.  The original ending of the film had Ron's accident serve as the closing moment, leading to his survival being uncertain, an act studios found far too depressing, yet, ironically, it is perhaps this ending that was more fulfilling than his survival.  Sure they will end up together, but they are no less suspect to the condemning glances of their community.

Key Scene:  The initial trip to the barn, is seemingly simple, but its romantic energy and sexual undertones are far too brilliant to underestimate or overlook.

This is yet another gift from Criterion.  While I am holding out for a bluray upgrade, for those solely rocking DVD's this is a must own in every regard.

They Came Home. And With Them My Life Of Details: The Bridges Of Madison County (1995)

I have, much to my shame, gone for quite a bit of time without seeing a film directed by the prolific Clint Eastwood, who, politics aside, is a nearly indomitable figure in Hollywood history.  Furthermore, as a friend of mine suggests he is one of the only classicist directors still working, something that is quickly evident in what I have seen of his trailer, as well as his directing of The Bridges of Madison County.  For whatever reason, perhaps the fact that my memories of it emerge from being eight or so when it came out, I assumed this film to be an absolutely sappy and unbearable chick romance flick, one that I would never in a million years have attached to the hypermasculine Eastwood.  Of course, when I found this film again I had not realized that it was indeed directed by Eastwood and remembering that it was well received, or at the very least popular upon its release, I decided to give it a whirl.  The earnestly, beauty and intimacy with which Eastwood brings Robert James Waller's film to life, makes every lackluster adaptation of equally uninspired Nicholas Spark's books seem frivolous and ill-intended, A Walk to Remember excluded, a film for which I am quite fond.  The chemistry between Eastwood and Streep on film is palpable and instantaneous, a performance that would garner Streep one of her seemingly countless amount of nominations.  The films is not perfect by any means though and does suffer from a considerable length issue, mostly the fault of the somewhat unnecessary inclusion of the children's reading of their mothers account of infidelity.  However this minor criticism aside, The Bridges of Madison County is a magnificent work that forces viewers to reconsider their notions of first love, ageist assumptions about romantic intimacy and the degree of "infidelity" that occurs when an individual is stuck within an unfulfilling  marriage or relationship.  If we consider Eastwood to be a classicist filmmaker, which I do, it is in the way of melodramatic subtlety, a phrase I use intentionally for its oxymoronic quality.

The Bridges of Madison County begins with two adults meeting in the home of their late mother Francesca (Meryl Streep) to go through her personal belongings and undertake the enactment of her will.  The two children Carolyn (Annie Corley) and Michael (Victor Slezak) become particularly confused and reluctant when it is revealed that their mother request to be cremated and have her ashes strewn off the side of an old bridge near her house.  They make particular note of the fact that their father Richard (Jim Haynie) purchased to parallel graves to lay together in for eternity.  However, as a set of journals reveal, when the children and their father spent a week away at the state fair, Francesca engaged in an affair with a National Geographic photographer named Robert Kincaid (Clint Eastwood).  Michael is furious with the news, while Carolyn shows a considerable degree of intrigue beginning to thumb through the journal and see how such an act evolved.  It becomes clear, as viewers are situated into the initial encounter, via flashbacks and the diagetic narration of Francesca that the events unfolded in the most innocent of manners, first with Kincaid inquiring about the location of bridges then to Francesca offering to tag along as a guide.  Even when they spend their first evening together it is not sexual but simply the act of enjoying one another's company, over food and some brandy laced coffee.  It is the second day, after some suspicion by towns folk that Kincaid and Francesca are more weary, yet after purchasing a new dress for the occasion the two spend the evening together, eventually engaging in intercourse.  All the while we are shown Carolyn and Michael's reactions which evolve from outright discuss to deep understanding.  The night between the two is notably fleeting and despite Kincaid's demands that Francesca join him, she chooses to stay and welcome the return of her family, a painful moment that she accepts like a martyr.  By possible chance, Francesca sees Kincaid in town one last time and even has to suffer through sitting behind his truck at a red light, clutching the handle to her husband's truck as she considers fleeing into his world.  However, she does stay and instead asks in the notes of her diary that her children acknowledge her request, as it is the least they can do in return for her sacrificed happiness.

The fact of the matter with The Bridges of Madison County is that it is a first rate romance.  The love story depicted between the two aging idealists is something for the ages and is never forced.  I would suggest that it represents the simplest and most realized moments of burgeoning love.  It is hard not to see the pangs of initial attraction occur, when Kincaid first steps out of his truck, and it is certainly realized when Francesca discusses the erotic attachment she feels to Kincaid simply at the thought of ouccpying a space in which his naked body had resided only moments earlier, however, intercourse aside the evolution of their romance is youthful in the fullest of terms.  It begins by playful interactions in a car, leading to Kincaid picking wildflowers for Francesca, reminiscent of many a summer loves follies.  Furthermore, Kincaid's recollections on his brief experiences in a small town in Italy which Francesca originally hails, causes her to return to a youthful state, one that allows her to open veritable romantic floodgates.  If we then consider the location of their moment of sexual encounter, it plays beautifully into the youthful nature, in that it does not occur in a bed, but on a rug because of outside forces "condemnation" and interference.  However, romance of youthful hearts is obliterated with the reminders of Francesca's very adult responsibilities, ones that she must commit to and mean that their love must wait till the otherworldly to be fully celebrated.  In the end it causes the two adult children to reflect on their own love lives, which result in their acting with purposefully youthful zeal.

Key Scene:  The moment at the red light in which Francesca clutches the handle of the door seems to drag on forever, but it should as in her memories it went on for an eternity.

This was a stellar film, but not one I find absolutely necessary to own, yet should you enjoy romances this is top tier stuff.