FILM REVIEW: BLUE VALENTINE

Cindy (Michelle Williams) in Blue Valentine.

Love, rage and blood beneath the surface

By John Esther

Once upon a time in Super 16mm, 25mm lense, handheld camera land, Dean (Ryan Gosling) and Cindy (Michelle Williams) were sort of happy. Compelled by his unwavering belief that Cindy was the one, Dean courted her in quite the charming manner, took a beating because of her (if he only had a cell phone), assumed co-responsibility in raising a child not his own and married her. For her part, Cindy gave up her current boyfriend, Bobby (Mike Vogel), and any potential or real ambition she had because of Dean. While they had their moments of despair they each made each other so happy. How could Dean and Cindy ever go on without each other?

Six years later, housepainter Dean and nurse Cindy dwell in a dinghy Scranton, Pennsylvania house miles away from the happy times of The Office. Shot on HD with two cameras at a time, Cindy's love for Dean has all but burned out, yet he still loves her madly and their daughter, Frankie (Faith Wladyka), too. In response to their demise, Dean tries a few things to save their marriage, which includes staying at a hotel for the night.

This hotel stay is but a mere reprieve. The relationship is pretty much doomed, but Dean never gives up. On the surface Dean deserves our sympathies for the most part, especially when you consider what transpired earlier in their relationship, yet by the time he appears at Cindy's work the suspicion that Dean has been given a few chances, out of the film's time and space, seems solidified.

Expanding and contracting in space while moving back and forth in time over the six years, Blue Valentine offers a refreshing and raw look at holy matrimony coming undone a la Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966), Revolutionary Road (2008) and this year's Rabbit Hole. Except Dean and Cindy are relatively poorer than those other clashing couples and co-writer and director Derek Cianfrance's film was made on a much tighter budget.

(In preparation for their roles, Gosling and Williams reportedly "lived" on housepainter and nurse budgets, respectively, for two weeks.)

Seven years in the making, Cianfrance (Brother Tied; Cagefighter) went through many trials and tribulations to get this film made. And if it were not for Williams and Rosling's dedication to their craft it probably would have never made. Not only did they support Cianfrance over many years – Williams was on board with the project since 2003, Gosling came on in 2005 -- they willingly accepted the physical changes required for the roles, including purposely gaining as much weight as they could in one month. Notably, Williams gained 15 pounds before they would shoot her nude scenes. Now how many actors would intentionally gain flesh before exposing her or his flesh?

Fortunately their hard work paid off. Blue Valentine oozes with so much honesty it might be hard for insecure couples to endure while garnering sympathy from those few couples out there who are lucky to stay happy for many years. Perhaps more amusingly, parents with adolescent or young adult children believing they have already found the love of their live may want to take to their idealistic offspring to see Blue Valentine -- especially if you do not care for the object of your child's affections.

For their dedications, Williams and Gosling give two of the better performances of the year and they are gaining nominations – although, I like her performance more. Dean's accent sounds more Bostonian than Brooklyn, where he lived when they met, or from Florida, where he claims to hail from during a job interview.

Beyond elocution of Gosling's character, the only other significant shortcoming is the pretty lame soundtrack to supplement the driving narrative. An underused and abused art form in film, Blue Valentine is no exception to the rule of sappy songs and mawkish melodies. However, Gosling/Dean's numbers are pretty amusing, including one very memorable scene where he plays the ukulele and Williams/Cindy does a tap dance.

(While shooting the film, Williams did not know Gosling was going to play the ukulele and Gosling did not know Williams was going to dance to his song until their cue: "Do you have any special talents?" Then they had to improvise the song and dance.)

Quality direction, excellent cinematography by Andrij Parekh (Half Nelson; Cold Souls) and featuring two very dedicated star actors, Blue Valentine offers an honest alternative to the fairy tale, love stories Hollywood offers throughout the year. A pyrotechnic display may go off at the end of a love story, but it is not at night, it is not romantic and it is not in anybody's head. That happens only in the movies (and in an episode of the Brady Bunch).

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FILM REVIEW: CHANGE OF PLANS

Sarah (Emmanuelle Seigner) in Change of Plans.

Entrée Nous

By John Esther

An unoriginal story about some sexual and amorous frustrations of the French bourgeoisie, writer-director Danièle Thompson's film essentially spans between an upcoming dinner party and what happens during that party and afterward up until the next dinner party, scheduled next year.

ML (Karin Viard) is an ambitious, successful lawyer married to Piotr (Dany Boon), who seems to be a good enough husband yet she is having an affair. She and the others, especially the females, but the men will catch up in the infidelity department, just cannot be happy, despite not having to deal with any shortage of money or opportunities. ML's predicament is barely any different from any of the other unhappy married couples or those who are seeking a relationship -- without the slight cognisance of irony.

Supported by mild jokes and concluding with a trough of trivial narrative closures, Change of Plans not only fails to offer anything original (Oh, Voltaire), the direction is noticeable for its incompetence, especially the driving scenes. At first I thought they were a joke. 

With so many good films currently running at theaters, there is no need to make a change of plans to make time for this one. 

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THEATER REVIEW: THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO

Count Almaviva (Bo Skovhus) and Susanna (Marlis Petersen) in The Marriage of Figaro. Photo by Robert Millard.

Money, love and sex at L.A. Opera

By Ed Rampell

Every once in a while there’s an uplifting work of art that makes one feel glad to be alive. L.A. Opera’s exuberant production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s 1786 The Marriage of Figaro (Le Nozze di Figaro), conducted by none other than Placido Domingo himself, is one of those rare artistic experiences that enable audiences to walk on air and be grateful to be living, if only so they can experience such a rapturous, joyous vision and affirmation of life.

L.A. theatergoers are currently encountering Theatre West’s revival of Clifford Odets’ 1935 classic proletarian drama, Waiting For Lefty, while the Actors’ Gang is presenting Tim Robbin’s people’s history of Jamestown, Break the Whip. But I humbly submit that by making the servants Figaro (bass-baritone Daniel Okulitch) and his betrothed Susanna (sopranos Marlis Petersen through Oct. 3, Rebekah Camm Oct. 6-17) The Marriage of Figaro's lead characters, and their struggle with Count Almaviva (baritone Bo Skovhus) a focus of the opera, Mozart and librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte created a sort of proletarian, people’s history of Europe as it neared the French Revolution. Indeed, French playwright Pierre Augustin Beaumarchais’ original play, which Figaro is derived from, was banned in Vienna because it satirized the European aristocracy. (The Hapsburgs were not exactly known for their devotion to free speech or sense of humor.) 

This is the second time since December that L.A. Opera has produced a work featuring Figaro. Italian composer Gioachino Rossini’s 1816 The Barber of Seville, libretto by Cesare Sterbini, was also derived from Beaumarchais’ trilogy of plays featuring that sly, skilled working class hero, who lives by his wits and labor (this is somewhat subverted in Mozart’s opera buffa, although the nobleman remains the buffoon).

Nowadays much is made of a couple’s wedding night, but The Marriage of Figaro is about what is probably opera’s busiest wedding day, as Figaro and Susanna prepare to marry. Among other things, the newlyweds-to-be must contend with an old feudal law that allowed the lord to deflower plebian brides before they consummated their nuptials with their commoner husbands. (Common indeed: The 18th century was not big on anti-sexual harassment and other laws protecting employees in the workplace.) So the ever resourceful Figaro and Susanna must scheme to thwart their “master’s” marital rape of the bewitching bride-to-be, whom Count Almaviva most definitely has the hots for seducing. At the same time, the aristocrat’s scorned, forlorn wife, Countess Almaviva (soprano Martina Serafin), seeks to reign in her adulterous husband’s serial philandering.

Amidst must first act breast groping, there’s more trickery, twists, turns and trysts than a Woody Allen movie in Mozart’s rollicking romp. Toss into this potent mix the cross-dressing male Cherubino (beguilingly portrayed by a female, mezzo-soprano Renata Pkupic), his adolescent hormones roaring beyond his control, as the randy teen lusts for a variety of women, including Barbarina (portrayed at the premiere by Barbarella-like soprano Valentina Fleer; soprano Janai Brugger-Orman assumes the role Oct. 6-17). Cherubino, who dresses up in women’s clothing, becomes one soldier who’d definitely rather make love, not war. To further complicate matters, Marcellina (played by Ronnita Nicole Miller through Oct. 3, and from Oct. 6-17 by mezzo-soprano Tracy Cox) has her own designs on Figaro, and it is one of the opera’s biggest surprises when we find out why she really loves Figaro. (By the way, Miller, Brugger-Orman and Fleer are alumna members of L.A. Opera’s Domingo-Thornton Young Artist Program.)

Shake, do not stir, this coquettish concoction and you get a frothy elixir of the musical gods. Ambrosia that could soothe seething souls, with Mozart’s immortal music rousingly conducted by Placido Domingo, who fluidly moves as one with the music. Domingo seems prominently displayed on a raised platform underneath a spotlight in the orchestra pit, as L.A. Opera gets its money’s worth out of its wandering, world famous General Director. How appropriate for Domingo to conduct Figaro, which Mozart himself conducted at its 1786 world premiere in Vienna. (Israel Gursky takes the baton Oct. 14 and 17.)

Ian Judge deftly directs the players, but scenery designer Tim Goodchild’s humdrum sets only come alive in the gorgeous garden scene, with its full moon (although I don’t quite understand how chandeliers could be suspended outdoors – I guess I’ll just have to willingly suspend my disbelief a la Samuel Coleridge). Sets are often characters unto themselves in many L.A. Opera productions -- such as Tosca’s prison, Carmen’s plaza and The Fly’s mad scientist’s lair – but until Figaro’s grand finale, they are decidedly run-of-the-mill. Costume designer Deirdre Clancy’s duds have 18th century flair, although Figaro’s contemporary wedding outfit is a dud. This production also unnecessarily inserts other modern references, such as telephones and flashlights, into the 18th century milieu, which only serve to distract from what is otherwise a grand period piece.

And Mozart’s whimsical opera, wherein love conquers all, and is the be all and end all -- is arguably the grandest illusion of all. So why shatter the fantasy? The rest of real life does that for us regularly enough. (It’s easy to see why the composer, alas, was not long for this world.) But these are mere quibbles: To enjoy the most delightful, whimsical, charming opera I’ve ever seen, treat yourself to a well-deserved break and get thee to L.A Opera for Wolfy’s eternally joyful The Marriage of Figaro. A good time is guaranteed to all.

The Marriage of Figaro runs at L.A. Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. For more info: 213/972-8001; www.laopera.com

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FILM REVIEW: THE WEDDING SONG

Lizzie Brocheré and Olympe Borval star in Karin Albou's The Wedding Song.

Give peace a chance

By Don Simpson

From November 1942 to May 1943 German forces occupied Tunis, which was the Axis powers’ final stronghold in Africa before retreating to Italy. Previously occupied by the French, Tunis was a relatively welcome home for Jews. The German occupation changed that.

Writer-director Karin Albou's The Wedding Song (Le chant des mariées) begins in 1942, prior to the German occupation. Sephardic Jewish teenager, Myriam (Lizzie Brocheré), and her childhood Muslim friend, Nour (Olympe Borval), live next door to each other. The intense and inseparable bond between them is partially akin to sisters and that of lovers – as they appear to always exist on the verge of kissing each other. The teens' closeness lends a strong erotic subtext, as the The Wedding Song reveals their restricted role in Tunisian society – women are only afforded freedom of expression at a pre-wedding party and inside of a hammam (public bathhouse); both situations are female-only.

The two girls are promptly approaching their respective marriages – Nour to her cousin, Khaled (Najib Oudghiri), Myriam to an older Jewish doctor, Raoul (Simon Abkarian). Nour is forbidden to marry Khaled until he finds employment; Myriam resists her marriage to Raoul.

Enter the Germans. They immediately prey on the Muslim population’s inherent nationalism in an attempt to oust the Jews from Tunis. The spread of anti-Jewish propaganda pits Muslims and their Jewish neighbors against each other. The Germans demand that all Jews in Tunis pay an outrageously high fine – which Myriam's mother (Albou) can't afford. The fine lends a new sense of urgency to Myriam’s impending wedding with Raoul (he is rich and can provide protection to Myriam’s family).

Khaled finds work, unfortunately it is for the Germans. If all of the unease caused by the German occupation did not already cause enough tension between Myriam and Nour, Khaled’s new job definitely does. Khaled convinces Nour that the inequalities in Tunis were brought about by the Jews: Jews are rich, while Muslims are poor; Jews attend school, while Muslims do not; Jews are friends with the French, while Muslims want to be freed from French occupation.

Entrancing, stimulating and motivational, French director Albou’s The Wedding Song continues a discussion of themes from her 2005 film, La Petite Jérusalem: female sexuality in repressive cultures and relationships between Muslims and Jews. Albou professes that peace is possible between Muslims and Jews, just as Myriam and Nour's friendship is saved purely by mentally conquering their cultural differences and the politics of racism.

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