TV REVIEW: ‘Not Only But Always’

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By Ray Bennett

LONDON – In a season of musical and comedy movie biographies, this look at the lives of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore is by far the most disappointing.

It was surely a bridge too far for the accomplished playwright Terry Johnson (“Hitchcock Blond”), whose writing and direction here capture none of the magic of the comic duo who were at the peak of Britain’s sixties comic revival.

Those familiar with the hilariously sardonic Cook, described by humorist Stephen Fry as the funniest man who ever drew breath, and brilliant musician and clown Moore, who became a Hollywood sex symbol, will not recognize them here.

Anyone who wonders why the pair were idolized or why their sketches still convulse those fortunate to have seen them in their prime in the stage shows “Beyond the Fringe” and “Good Evening” or on their BBC TV show “Not Only … But Also” will find no answers.

Rhys Ifans (“Notting Hill”) and stage and television actor Aidan McArdle occasionally resemble salt Peter and cuddly Dudley but neither can master the lunatic body language and inspired vocal delivery of the originals.

Other characterisations are similarly off-base including pale imitations of Eleanor Bron, Blake Edwards and David Frost. Alan Cox suggests a diffident Alan Bennett, the shy Yorkshireman who was part of the “Fringe” troupe and Jonathan Aris is suitably intense as the over-articulate fourth member, Dr. Jonathan Miller.

It’s hardly the actors’ fault that they cannot impersonate successfully some of the funniest comedy performers Britain has ever produced. The structure of the film lets them down with a clumsy framework that has Cook and Moore in their working class Pete & Dud characters alone in a screening room as they watch a film about the lives of their alter egos.

The film establishes that their relationship was complicated from the start when they first met to create “Beyond the Fringe” for the Edinburgh Film Festival. Cook and Miller were middle class public schoolboys while Bennett and Moore were working class grammar schoolboys. The division in those days was marked although they had all gone on to Oxford or Cambridge.

Cook was a precociously successful comedy writer with a superior air and withering command of a uniquely prodigious wit. Moore was short with a clubfoot and an inferiority complex almost as big as his appetite for beautiful women.

Johnson covers the ground between their meeting and having West End and television success, and going on to movies, with little respect for the actual chronology. Gradually we meet their respective succession of wives and see the eventual fractures in what was a connection between two distinct creative personalities that meshed into one hugely inspired whole.

Moore is depicted cruelly as a man desperate for film success and seduced easily by the California good life. But Cook comes off worse as he is portrayed as a drunken, unfulfilled wastrel who comes to a bitter end. In truth, he was a man genially content with the fact that his biggest successes, unmatched by his peers, came early in his life.

The only smile caused by this film is to imagine what Cook would have said about it.

Airs: UK Dec. 30 Channel 4; Cast: Rhys Ifans, Aidan McArdle, Jodie Rimmer, Daphne Cheung, Camilla Power, Alan Cox, Jonathan Aris, Joanna Morrison, Josephine Davison, Richard Durden, Robin Soans, Alistair Browning, Tandi Wright, Brett O’Gorman, David Sterne; Writer, director: Terry Johnson; Director of photography: David Odd; Production designer: Michael Ralph; Editor: Martin Sharpe; Composer: Colin Towns. Producer: Alison Jackson; Executive producers: George Faber, Charles Pattinson; Production: Company Pictures; Not rated, running time, 120 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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TV REVIEW: ‘Agatha Christie’s Marple: The Body in the Library’

From: ITV MISS MARPLE - THE BODY IN THE LIBRARY on Sunday 12 December 2004   GERALDINE McEWAN stars as Miss Marple in four new films for ITV1 featuring Agatha Christie’s famous spinster sleuth. The celebrated British actress plays the role of the shrewd and inquisitive Jane Marple in adaptations of the Queen of Crime’s novels The Body in the Library, The Murder at the Vicarage, 4.50 from Paddington and A Murder is Announced. Geraldine is joined by a prestigious cast in the first film The Body in the Library. They include; JOANNA LUMLEY  plays Miss Marple’s friend Dolly; SIMON CALLOW plays Colonel Melchett, JACK DAVENPORT plays Superintendent Harper, DAVID WALLIAMS plays George Bartlett, TARA FITZGERALD plays Adelaide Jefferson, IAN RICHARDSON  plays Conway Jefferson and ADAM GARCIA plays Raymond Starr and Jamie Theakston plays Mark Gaskell. Pictured: JOANNA LUMLEY (Dolly Bantry) and GERALDINE McEWAN (Miss Marple) This photograph is (C) ITV Plc and can only be reproduced for editorial purposes directly in connection with the programme or event mentioned above, or ITV. Once made available by ITV Plc Picture Desk, this photograph can be reproduced once only up until the TX date and no reproduction fee will be charged.  Any subsequent usage may incur a fee. This photograph must not be syndicated to any other publication or website, or permanently archived, without the express written permission of ITV Plc Picture Desk. Full Terms and conditions are available on the website www.itvpictures.com ITV Picture contact - Pat Smith - 020 7261 3474

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – One of the great legacies of the Agatha Christie mystery canon is the rich vein of weird and wonderful characters she left for Britain’s vast array of character actors to mine. The new film series featuring amateur sleuth Miss Marple is a perfect example.

Christie’s now quaint stories also benefit from lively scripting, crisp direction and evocative design. The first of the series, “The Body in the Library” has these in large measure with director Andy Wilson and cinematographer Martin Fuhrer exploiting Jeff Tessler’s period design to please the eye while Kevin Elyot’s slyly witty dialogue delights the ear.

The shrewd and determined spinster of this parish that is Miss Marple is portrayed with steely warmth by Geraldine McEwan, whose ability to be unpleasantly stern is smartly tempered into an appealing eccentricity.

The body found at the opening of the first film is that of a young blond woman who dances at the Hotel Majestic and is therefore of dubious character while the library is in the lavish country pile owned by the formerly unblemished Colonel Arthur Bantry (James Fox).

The colonel’s wife Dolly, played with flawless exuberance by Joanna Lumley (pictured with McEwan), calls on her friend Miss Marple to investigate, being convinced that where murder is concerned her husband is not that type of man. “He’s sometimes silly about pretty girls, but why not? I have the garden,” Dolly explains.

Dolly briskly ignores a hapless bobby who tries to keep the two from entering the library to view the body. “Nobody’s allowed inside,” he states firmly. ‘Oh, nonsense,” says Dolly as she strides past.

Another Majestic dancer, Josie (Mary Stockley) identifies the dead blond but it transpires that the elderly, wheelchair bound Conway Jefferson (Ian Richardson) was the one who notified the police. It appears he doted on the young dancer and changed his will in her favor, much to the annoyance of daughter-in-law Adelaide (Tara Fitzgerald) and son-in-law Mark (Jamie Theakston).

Meanwhile, the local chief constable, an often apoplectic Simon Callow, with the aid of a sardonic detective inspector (Jack Davenport) trek through assorted witnesses and possible suspects including an absent-minded Majestic habitue (David Walliams), a brash would-be filmmaker (Ben Blake) and a Latino chappie who’s a bit of a gigolo (Adam Garcia).

Miss Marple, of course, sees through the lot of them and McEwan has fun with the inevitable revelations that have baffled the police and surprise everyone.

There are four films in the new “Marple” series, coproduced by WGBH Boston, and if they’re all as good as the first one then Christie fans have a treat in store.

Airs: UK: Dec. 12 ITV1; Cast: Geraldine McEwan, Joanna Lumley, Simon Callo, Ian Richardson, Tara Fitzgerald, Jamie Theakston, Jack Harper, Adam Garcia, David Walliams, Ben Miller, Mary Stockley, Emma Williams, Florence Hoath, James Fox; Director: Andy Wilson; Screenplay: Kevin Elyot; Director of photography: Martin Fuhrer; Production designer: Jeff Tessler; Editor: William Diver; Composer: Dominik Scherer; Producer: Matthew Read; Executive producers: Michael Buck, Damien Timmer, Phil Clymer, Rebecca Eaton; Production: WGBH, Chorion, Granada production for ITV1.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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THEATRE REVIEW: Marina Carr’s ‘By the Bog of Cats’

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By Ray Bennett

LONDON – Holly Hunter’s star power is one of the problems in Dominic Cooke’s staging of “By the Bog of Cats,” an intense but uneven retelling of “Medea,” but it is also its saving grace.

Playwright Marina Carr has set the dark tale of an abandoned woman and her terrible extremes of revenge in the ravaged peat land of central Ireland. Hunter’s Hester Swane is a furious mix of outraged earth mother and mystic avenger, a woman whose fiery character draws sustenance from the mysteries and malevolence of the bog of cats.

Left alone by her mother as a child, Hester is also betrayed by the father of her own daughter, the impressively named Carthage Kilbride (Gordon MacDonald), who is about to marry Caroline (Denise Gough, pictured above with Hunter), the meek daughter of a local landowner .

A portent of doom comes early as Hester enters the stage lugging the corpse of a black swan. She soon encounters a blind cat-woman (Brid Brennan, pictured with Hunter below) who recites the ancient incantation that the bearer of such will soon meet a similar fate.

That would cast a pall over anyone’s evening but Hester is made of sterner stuff and with wine-swilling panache she determines to confront her cheating partner at his wedding ceremony in order to win him back to her tumbledown shack by the bog.

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Hildegard Bechtler’s spare and evocative sets and Nicky Gillibrand’s convincing costumes provide a believable backdrop to the mystical goings on and Hunter makes the most of her peat-stained gypsy sex appeal.

The play, however, takes a very odd detour when Hester goes to the wedding party. Like so many guests at so many weddings, Carr appears drawn to the festive aspect of the occasion, taking every opportunity to get drunk and crack jokes.

The result is a long and hugely entertaining sequence that appears entirely at odds with the remainder of the play. Some fine British and Irish actors are on display and Barbara Brennan, as the bride’s mother; Trevor Cooper, as the bride’s father; Sorcha Cusack, as a neighbor; and Patrick Waldron, as the tipsy Father Willow, have a rare old time swapping very funny lines at the wedding table.

Hester ambushes the hilarity with her aggrieved righteousness, however, and it’s quickly back to the bog with the cat-woman, assorted ghosts and criminal arson. Then it gets really grisly.

It’s a mixed success for Hunter, who played the role in San Jose in 2001. Her movie star charisma sometimes distracts attention from the proceedings and her brave Irish accent slips and slides a bit. But her vital stage presence, superb movement and sheer intensity combine to make her performance something to remember.

Venue: Wyndham’s Theatre, runs through Feb. 22; Cast: Holly Hunter, Darren Greer, Sorcha Cusack, Barbara Brennan, Brid Brennan, Gordon MacDonald, Denise Gough, Trevor Cooper, Patrick Waldron, Adam Best, Kate Costello, Ellie Flynn-Watterson, Chloe O’Sullivan; Playwright: Marina Carr; Director: Dominic Cooke; Set designer: Nicky Gillibrand; Lighting designer: Jean Kalman; Composer: Gary Yershon; Sound designer: Gareth Fry; Movement director: Liz Ranken; Presented by Sonia Friedman Productions, Waxman Williams Entertainment and Mark Rubinstein.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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THEATRE REVIEW: ‘Grand Hotel: The Musical’

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By Ray Bennett

LONDON – Few places can match the buzz and excitement of a big city hotel lobby and that electric air of expectation is fully caught in the opening number of Michael Grandage’s scintillating restaging of “Grand Hotel: The Musical.”

On an empty stage with a backdrop of images redolent of Berlin between the wars, Grandage, designer Christopher Oram and choreographer Adam Cooper move a large cast in and out of the spotlight to create a spellbinding mix of words, music and dance.

Drawn from Vicki Baum’s novel and the 1932 movie starring Greta Garbo and Joan Crawford, the musical made its first appearance in 1958 with music and lyrics by Robert Wright and George Forrest. In the late ’80s, Tommy Tune turned it into a long-running Broadway spectacular with additional music and lyrics by Maury Yeston.

Grandage’s new, pared-down production at the Donmar Warehouse eliminates everything but the costumes and lets the music and action take over. With overlapping songs and dialog, the many characters are succinctly introduced, some of them glamorous and sophisticated, others poor and naive, but all of them hungry and needing something, mostly cash.

There is a retired army doctor (Gary Raymond) who meets his daily needs via a needle in his arm. His dissolute eyes monitor the daily flux of guests and each evening he elects to stay on at the Grand Hotel for just another day. “Life is not a tramcar you can run after and catch,” he cautions.

Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio (pictured) is the ageing ballerina Elizaveta Grushinskaya, the Garbo role, on her eighth farewell tour and forced to dance yet again because the money is running out. She falls for the smooth Baron Felix (Julian Ovenden), unaware that he is out to steal her jewels to settle gambling losses. Mastrantonio has a show-stopping number, “Bonjour Amor,” in which she beautifully captures the essence of a woman rediscovering love but fearful of putting too much trust in it.

The Baron has also befriended a young typist (Helen Baker in the Crawford role) who is pregnant and has reluctantly accepted the generosity of a bloated businessman (Martyn Ellis) who wants more for his money than typing.

A popular fellow, the Baron has also taken under his wing a Jewish bookkeeper (Daniel Evans) who has cashed in his savings and moved to the Grand Hotel to die.

The stories interweave with lively breaks every now and then for a Charleston or athletic tap-dance by cabaret performers Paul Hazel and Joseph Noble. While leaning towards soap opera, the stories hold up and thanks to the eye-pleasing design and movement and some splendid singing, this 1920s Berlin hotel is positively grand.

Venue: Donmar Warehouse, runs through Feb. 12; Cast: Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, Gary Raymond; Julian Ovenden, Helen Baker, Martyn Ellis, Daniel Evans, Paul Hazel, Joseph Noble; Book: Luther Davis; Music & lyrics: Robert Wright & George Forrest; Additional music & lyrics: Maury Yeston; Based on: Vicki Baum’s “Grand Hotel” by arrangement with Turner Broadcasting Co.; Director: Michael Grandage; Designer: Christopher Oram; Lighting designer: Hugh Vanstone; Choreographer: Adam Cooper; Musical director: Jae Alexander; Sound designer: Terry Jardine for Autograph.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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THEATRE REVIEW: Stage version of the movie ‘Festen’

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By Ray Bennett

LONDON – Thomas Vinterberg’s “Festen,” a deeply affecting 1998 Danish film about the birthday party from hell, has been adapted into an emotionally shattering play in the hands of London’s Almeida Theatre Company.

Dramatized by David Eldridge and directed by Rufus Norris, “Festen” holds to the disciplined form of Vinterberg’s “Dogme” philosophy and with cleverly balanced scenes, masterful stagecraft and brilliant acting provides a superb evening of theater.

The setting is a country house where a rich man named Helge (Stephen Moore) is marking his 60th birthday and has gathered his family, friends and colleagues for a weekend of celebrations. Pompous and full of self-regard, Helge requires his guests to fawn over him and play traditional games that make him the center of attention and respect despite the strain on the enforced gaiety caused by the recent suicide of his eldest daughter, Linda.

Helge is encouraged by his dutiful and blinkered wife Else (Jane Asher) and his youngest son Michael (Rory Kinnear) whose boorish behavior has blackened his reputation to the point of not being formally invited to the birthday party.

But the dead woman’s twin brother Christian (Luke Malby) is not prepared to allow his father’s festivities to pass without comment. When it’s his turn to make a toast, Christian offers his father a choice of two speeches he might make. Helge indulges his son confidently but is unprepared for the storm about to be unleashed.

With a fury made greater by lifelong repression, Christian reveals how his father routinely and unrepentantly raped and abused him and his sister as they grew up, and was responsible for Linda’s death.

What becomes just as shocking is that the father absorbs these accusations blithely and his wife barely notices them as Christian is hustled away by Helge’s associates and Michael, who is ever willing to ingratiate himself.

Hypocrisy has such a grip on these people that they resort to the formalities of the occasion to gloss over Christian’s outburst even when he returns to the gathering to repeat and expand them.

Following the structure of the film, Eldridge is able to make the proceedings even more powerful on stage than onscreen due to the immediacy of some extraordinary acting. Given how busy the story is in following the arrival of various guests and their own reactions over the weekend, it’s astonishing how clearly Norris keeps things. Several characters deliver their own two-handed dialog within the same setting and it’s never confusing. As the tension grows and the family begins to tear itself apart, the play becomes more gripping than any thriller that comes to mind.

Malby and Kinnear are breathtaking as very different brothers who confront the rotten core of their upbringing in opposite ways. But the entire cast is splendid and designer Ian MacNeil is to be credited with making the settings both manageable and nightmarish.

Venue: Lyric Theatre, runs through Jan. 15; Cast: Luke Mably, Lisa Palfrey, Rory Kinnear, Andrew Maud, Claire Rushbrook, Jane Asher, Stephen Moore, Ruth Millar, Michael Thomas, Sam Beazley, Sam Cox, Andrew Frame, Patrick Robinson, Sinead Goodall, Clemmie Hooten, Alice Knight; A dramatization by David Eldridge based on the Dogme film and play by Thomas Vinterberg, Mogens Rukov and Bo Hr. Hansen; Director: Rufus Norris; Designer: Ian MacNeil; Costume designer: Joan Wadge; Lighting: Jean Kalman; Music: Orlando Gough; Sound: Paul Arditti; Almeida Theatre Production presented by Marla Rubin and Bill Kenwright.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter. Photo by Keith Pattison.

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THEATRE REVIEW: Sam Shepard’s ‘Buried Child’

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – A sheet of rain fades to the coyote howl of a guitar and in a rundown farmhouse an old man on a couch coughs, reaches for his whiskey and resumes a shouted conversation with his offstage wife.

The decay, discord and disharmony set the scene for one of playwright Sam Shepard’s finest examinations of how families can eat themselves up with secrets and lies.

Crackling with intrigue and seared with menace, Shepard’s 1978 Pulitzer Prize-winning play is propelled vividly by an excellent cast led by veteran character actor M. Emmet Walsh (pictured above) as Dodge, the ageing ringmaster of a mid-Western familial circus of horrors.

There is a knock on the door and out of the rainy night comes handsome young Vince (Sam Troughton) and his sparkling girlfriend Shelly (Lauren Ambrose). Vince says this is where he grew up and he just stopped by on his way west to find his father.

But Dodge says he doesn’t know the boy, and he gets no warmer welcome from his grandmother, Halie (Elizabeth Franz).

It doesn’t get any better when Tilden (Brendan Coyle, pictured below with Ambrose), Vince’s dad, turns out not to be in New Mexico but right there although he, too, is barely acknowledged by anyone other than brother Bradley (Sean Murray), who mostly wants to beat him up.

Eager to please, Vince disappears into the night to fetch more whiskey for Dodge but that leaves newcomer Shelly to deal with some mighty odd characters who might or might not have something nasty in mind.

In Shepard’s sinewy tale, however, the members of this strange family keep their nastiness mostly to themselves. Tilden is the shell of a football player as his simple mind wanders to a garden that no longer exists but still allows him to enter with armfuls of carrots or corn on the cob. Bradley is burning up with an anger he directs happily at any one and Shelly soon learns that it’s safer when he’s separated from his artificial leg.

Left to fend for herself, Shelly grows in strength and it’s her prodding that helps peel back the hidden layers of the family’s history. By the time Vince shows up again, all the skeletons, including the one implied by the title, are there to see.

Director Matthew Warchus paces Shepard’s spiraling surprises expertly and Rob Howell’s set design adds greatly to the fusty, threat-laden atmosphere.

Walsh renders his snarling old man with all the savvy you’d expect and Ambrose (from “Six Feet Under”) is a revelation, playing Shelly with great charm and fiery spirit.

Venue: National Theatre, runs through Dec. 15; Cast: M. Emmet Walsh, Elizabeth Franz, Brendan Coyle, Sean Murray, Sam Troughton, Lauren Ambrose, John Rogan; Playwright: Sam Shepard; Director: Matthew Warchus; Designer: Rob Howell; Lighting designer: Natasha Katz; Music: Gary Yershon; Sound designer: Paul Groothius; Presented by the National Theatre, produced by arrangement with Josef Weinberg Plays Ltd.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

Photos by Manuel Harlan

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TV REVIEW: ‘Sex Traffic’

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By Ray Bennett

LONDON – The men who trade in women that are bought and sold into prostitution have a simple way to distract the police when they ship them between countries. They throw one of them overboard. When the women become older, they are sold on. When they become sick, they are shot.

Channel 4’s two-part docudrama “Sex Traffic” provides a devastating look at the billion-dollar international sex trade that sees an estimated two million girls and women a year exploited ruthlessly. Woven into an unblinking report on the sordid business is a thriller about two sisters from Moldova with ambitions for a better life in England. Naively, they believe the promises of a local man whose small fee for getting them to Sarajevo escalates as men buy and sell them on to Italy and then London.

Sex+Traffic Sim x325jpgWriter Abi Morgan and director David Yates cast their net wide to draw in all those culpable for the sickening trade in which brutal pimps treat the women worse than the most callous farmer treats his animals.

Using different film stock and with much use of hand-held cameras, cinematographer Chris Seager and editor Mark Day convey both the hell that the women endure and the complacency and exploitation that allows the traffickers to exist.

While sisters Elena (Anamaria Marinca) and Vara (Maria Popistasu, pictured top right with Marinca) are raped and beaten and forced into a squalid brothel in Bosnia, a young Canadian is trying to find out what’s happened to another girl sold into prostitution and now missing.

Callum Tate (Luke Kirby) works for the security force of a Boston-based international corporation named Kernwell that specializes in providing highly profitable rebuilding and peacekeeping services in countries torn by war. When Tate is accused of trying to buy the missing girl and is sent home, a British charity worker named Daniel Appleton (John Simm, pictured) becomes interested.

Back home, Tate attempts to contact the head of Kernwell, Tom Harlsburgh (Chris Potter) whose wife Madeleine (Wendy Crewson) is chief fundraiser for the company’s charitable operation.

The drama crosscuts between the various threads as Appleton pursues the truth, Madeleine gradually is exposed to the horrors that her husband’s company tolerates in its greed, and the sisters plunge ever deeper into a life of degradation and pain.

The acting is uniformly fine as Simm makes a likeably reluctant hero and newcomers Marinca and Popistasu give brave, selfless and convincing performances as the sisters. Canadian veterans Crewson and Len Cariou, as the cynical big boss at Kernwell, root the American scenes in believability. Dan Astilean has brief but telling scenes as a weary but honest Moldovan cop.

“Sex Traffic” is not for the squeamish with its violence rendered more brutal for being utterly casual and mundane. The true horror of the film is the matter-of-fact baseness and cruelty of the men who traffic in women while the men whose indifference permits it are so smug and comfortable.

Airs: UK: Oct. 14, 21, Channel 4; Cast: John Simm, Wendy Crewson, Anamaria Marinca, Maria Popistasu, Chris Potter, Len Cariou, Maury Chaykin, Luke Kirby, Robert Joy, Rudi Lascar: Dan Astilean; Director: David Yates; Writer: Abi Morgan; Director of photography: Chris Seager; Editor: Mark Day; Composer: Jonathan Goldsmith; Executive producer: Michele Buck; Producer: Derek Wax; Production: Granada co-production with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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Gabriel Yared wins top prizes at 2004 World Soundtrack Awards

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By Ray Bennett

GHENT, Belgium – “Cold Mountain” composer Gabriel Yared (pictured) was the big winner in the 2004 World Soundtrack Awards. He picked up prizes for composer of the year and best soundtrack during ceremonies Saturday night at the 31st Flanders International Film Festival.

Lebanese-born Oscar-winner Yared (“The English Patient”) accepted his awards from British composer David Arnold and France’s Maurice Jarre, who are serving on the film jury at the festival. In brief remarks in French, Yared praised the Flanders event for its long support of film music. His “Cold Mountain” score won the 2004 British Film Academy music award and was nominated for an Academy Award.

soundtrack-BergmansMartinOscar-winning lyricists Alan and Marilyn Bergman received a lifetime achievement award from British record producer George Martin (pictured right with the Bergmans and the WSA’s Marian Ponnet, rear) who said: “It’s a very tough task to write a really brilliant song and they have mastered the element of simplicity that moves the heart.”

Marilyn Bergman, who is president and chairman of ASCAP, thanked the many composers and filmmakers the pair have collaborated with and named Sydney Pollack, Norman Jewison, Mark Rydell and Barbra Streisand. Alan Bergman provided one of the highlights of the evening when he performed two of their Oscar-winning songs, “Windmills of My Mind” from “The Thomas Crown Affair” and “The Way We Were” from the movie of the same name as scenes from those films screening behind him.

Lyricist Don Black, an Oscar-winner for “Born Free,” paid tribute to his friend and frequent collaborator Elmer Bernstein, who died earlier this year. Black said, “Someone like Elmer Bernstein comes along once in a lifetime and we should all be very grateful that he came along in ours.” Belgian conductor Dirk Brosse led the Flemish Radio Orchestra in playing themes from Oscar-winner Bernstein’s scores to “The Great Escape,” “To Kill a Mockingbird,” and “The Magnificent Seven.”

Two other major film composers who died in 2004 also were saluted with suites featuring David Raksin’s “Laura” and Michael Kamen’s “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.” The film music of Jerry Goldsmith, who also died this year, will feature in a tribute concert at the festival on Thursday.

Also at the awards presentation, John Williams’s score for “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” won the public choice award and Gustavo Santaollala was named discovery of the year for his score for the film “21 Grams.” Sting’s “You Will Be My Ain True Love,” from “Cold Mountain,” was named best song.

ASCAP senior vp Nancy Knutzen accepted on behalf of Williams, and Santaolalla phoned in his thanks from Caracas, Venezuela, where he was performing. He expressed his thanks to “21 Grams” director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu and said he would attend next year’s Flanders festival. The 2003 winner of the discovery award, Antonio Pinto (“City of God”) was on hand to hear a medley of his film music.

Belgian artists Sioen and Wim Mertens also performed and Steven Prengels received the prize for the best young Belgian composer for an original score he wrote for an animated short silent film, “Le Reveil Tam-Tam.”

This story appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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THEATRE REVIEW: John Barry and Don Black’s ‘Brighton Rock’

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By Ray Bennett

LONDON – Composer John Barry and lyricist Don Black have laboured long and hard to make a musical out of Graham Greene’s 1938 crime novel “Brighton Rock,” but the challenge has turned out to be beyond them.

Unusually for a musical, the show program contains no list of songs or dance numbers. It’s an indication that Barry and Black, and Giles Havergal, who wrote the book for the production, have something other in mind than a traditional musical.

The subject is dark with a central character, Pinkie Brown (Michael Jobson), who is a baby-faced killer running a protection racket in the fading seaside resort of Brighton. After Pinkie orders the death of a small-time journalist, a witness emerges who could put him away.

She’s an innocent waitress named Rose (Sophia Ragavelas) so Pinkie cynically seduces and marries her so that as his spouse she cannot testify against him. With a determined woman named Ida (Harriet Thorpe) on his trail, however, and a rival gang leader ruling the roost, Pinkie’s desperation leads him to plan the death of Rose.

Havergal has done a good job of condensing Greene’s complex novel into manageable length for the show and Lez Brotherson’s set evokes the seediness of a resort where the glory has faded and the holidaymakers have a shriek of desperation about them.

But the show is caught between all the imperatives that audiences and especially critics would expect. Clearly, Barry and Black aimed at something like Brecht and Weill in which Barry’s Oscar-winning brilliance at creating movie underscores could be brought to bear and the pair’s dab hand at melodic songs could be exploited. It works in scene setting and mood, but the songs are defeated by the context.

Black is constrained to use the simple language of the milieu. It would have been absurd if these pseudo-Cockneys had burst into songs with the language of Sondheim or Porter. But the restrictions are defeating and while Rose has two ballads that offer the show a chance of a pop hit, it’s as if the songwriters’ hearts aren’t in it and the songs fall flat.

Worse, there are ensemble performances that feature clunky choreography involving deckchairs by the beach and punters at the racetrack. The bland cheeriness of these numbers is at woeful odds with the drama that infuses the rest of the show.

Part of the problem lies with the source material. Greene knew more about Saigon whorehouses, corrupt colonialists and tinpot Caribbean dictators than he did petty English criminals. The novel succeeds because of Greene’s coruscating writing but Pinkie never did convince as a real character either in the book or the film. He was merely a vassal for one of Greene’s conundrums about faith and the power of evil.

The 1947 film version was lit up by the sheer screen magnetism of the very young Richard Attenborough but like Dirk Bogarde in “The Blue Lamp” a few years later, he was just a posh actor slumming as a working class character. The films were only shocking in contrast to earlier British middle class crime stories. Hollywood had left them in the dust with Cagney, Bogart and Robinson in the ’30s. Not until the late ’50s would real working class British voices be heard onscreen.

Michael Attenborough, Richard’s son, directs the musical version and he does establish a convincing sense of place. As Pinkie, Michael Jibson does well to suggest a boy born into crime and content to accept his eternal fate as a villain, but the need to break into song every now and then doesn’t really help. Harriet Thorpe does a lusty Cockney turn as Ida and Sophia Ragavelas sings sweetly as Rose. But by the time Pinkie takes Rose down to the pier with murder on his mind, her song “You Love Who You Love” has about as much meaning as cotton candy.

Venue: Almeida Theatre, runs through Nov. 13; Music: John Barry; Lyrics: Don Black; Book: Giles Havergal, based on the novel by Graham Greene; Director: Michael Attenborough; Design: Lez Brotherson; Choreography: Karen Bruce; Lighting: Tim Mitchell; Musical director and arrangements: Steven Edis; Sound: John Leonard. Cast: Michael Jobson; Rose: Sophia Ragavelas; Ida Arnold: Harriet Thorpe; Dallow: David Burt; Cubitt: Neil McCaul; Spicer: Paul Bentall; Judy: Corinna Powlesland; Phil Corkery: Gary Milner; Fred Hale: Nicholas Lumley; Mr. Colleoni: Joshua Richards; Presented in association with Bill Kenwright.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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THEATRE REVIEW: Maria Goos’ ‘Cloaca’

The Old Vic Theatre Company presents The British Premiére CLOACA by Maria Goos Directed by Kevin Spacey The Old Vic Theatre 16 September - 11 December 2004 Press Night: Tuesday 28 September 2004 For further press information please contact: Kate Morley on (020) 7292 8353 Email: katemorley@premierpr.com

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – The first play that Kevin Spacey has chosen to direct in his first season as artistic director of the Old Vic Theatre Company is curiously flat and uninvolving.

Dutch playwright Maria Goos’ story of four 40-ish men and the strains put on their friendship by their often-wayward choices in life is both unconvincing and quite dull.

Spacey’s direction doesn’t help as it leans heavily toward the lame comedy of male bravado and fails to establish any depth of emotion that might make the dark ending persuasive.

The setting is a fashionably modern apartment where Pieter (Stephen Tompkinson), a gay municipal civil servant, is arguing with his boss’s boss over a demand that he return what he refers to as the birthday gifts he has received over the previous 21 years.

These include eight paintings that he appropriated from storage at the local council office when they were regarded as worthless but since have come to be extremely valuable. His three closest friends, all heterosexuals, get involved in a problem that is made worse by the fact that he has already sold four of the paintings.

His mates also have their own problems. Jan (Hugh Bonneville) is an ambitious politician who expects to hear any day that he has been made a cabinet minister. But his wife has found out about his girlfriends and now he’s staying with Pieter. Tom (Adrian Lukis) is a lawyer whose over-indulgence in cocaine has led him to a stint in rehabilitation that doesn’t appear to have worked. And Maarten (Neil Pearson) is a smug playwright who is impotent except when it comes to Jan’s 18-year-old daughter.

The four men contrive to help Pieter out of his difficulty while Jan awaits his big news and frets over his failed marriage, Tom rushes about scoring more coke and Maarten anguishes over the first night of his new play and how he will tell Jan that his daughter appears naked in it.

All of this is revealed amidst what is supposed to be universal male camaraderie and banter, with references to a youthful mantra involving the shout of “Cloaca,” which has something to do with sewers. Nothing is made of Pieter’s homosexuality, which is probably a good thing in the circumstances, but it makes him, like the others, merely a type rather than a character.

There’s a very strained sequence in which Jan is gifted with a wan-looking hooker to celebrate his 43rd birthday and the joke is that, unable to perform, he goes into tearful breast beating about his wife and kids but the woman does not speak English.

The actors are all fully competent but there’s little they can do to enliven what is presumably meant to be a caution about the dangers of hubris and ignoring loyalty but falls lamentably short.

Venue: The Old Vic, runs through Dec. 11; Cast, Stephen Tompkinson, Hugh Bonneville, Adrian Lukis, Neil Pearson, Ingeborga Dapkunaite; Playwright: Maria Goos; Director: Kevin Spacey; Producer: David Liddiment; Executive producer: Colin Ingram; Designer: Robert Jones; Lighting: Mark Henderson; Sound: Fergus O’Hare; Presented by the Old Vic Theatre Company.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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