Music at the Movies

By Tony Buchsbaum

Everyone always talks about the Big Summer Movies, the blockbusters we all used to wait in line to see (and which we now get into, no problem, because they're playing on six screens at the same time). But few of us talk about the music from these movies, which are an integral part of what they're about and how well they work.

Mamma Mia, for example, isn't the summer's best movie (not by a longshot), but really, who cares? That movie is all about its music, by the iconic 70s group Abba. "Dancing Queen," "Mamma Mia," "S.O.S.," "The Winner Takes It All," "Take a Chance on Me"--these are amazing songs, and they, along with a dozen or so others, carry the movie along on a constant stream of good feeling and performances that range from very good to "What? I didn't know he could sing!"

All the major songs appear on the soundtrack, sung by the actors in the film. This is, of course, the norm, but when the actors include Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan, you'd be forgiven if you said, "Huh?" But the end, Meryl can do it. She's not particularly compelling as a singer, but next to Pierce Brosnan, she's Streisand. Brosnan is most assuredly not a singer, but that hardly stops him; if anything, he's a trooper and a very good sport.

The Mamma Mia soundtrack is a pretty terrific CD. It's got all the great songs, fully-orchestrated (which is something not always true for the stage version's cast recordings.

Wall•E, which could be the summer's best movie and certainly is one of the best movies of the year, is not only a tour de force for Pixar, the studio that created it, but for composer Thomas Newman. Long a staple on the Hollywood scoring scene, Newman's done standout work for years, for great films like "The Shawshank Redemption" and more recent fare like last year's "Little Children." For Wall•E, Newman has composed a startlingly good score that's filled with adventure, pathos, and a love theme that's virtually airborne. The CD also features a new song by Peter Gabriel, which is always a good thing.

Finally, though it's not a movie, I have to mention Mad Men, the celebrated original series on AMC. The show, created by Michael Wiener, tackles advertising in the early to mid-1960s. The men chase women, the women seem to like being chased, and everyone smokes like a chimney. The show's writing and acting are brilliant, but the best feature really is its design; the period comes alive in the costumes, the sets, and the props. Word is that Wiener is a stickler for authenticity, down to the month a product appeared on the market. If it wasn't really there, it's not in the show.

The music, which is predictably on its own CD, is okay. Composer David Carbonnara does his job well enough, and it works on-screen. I just wish it worked better as a stand-alone recording. The CD features a few of his tracks, then fills out the rest with period songs, including "On the Street Where You Live" performed by Vic Damone, "Botch-A-Me" performed by Rosemary Clooney, and "Manhattan" performed by Ella Fitzgerald. Are the songs great? Yeah. Is the CD? Again, it's OK.

Other big movie-related CDs this summer are the score for The Dark Knight, composed by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard. Why two A-list composers were needed for this escapes me, and why their work wasn't better just baffles me. These guys know what they're doing, but the score was a big yawn. Oh well.

And then there's Star Wars: The Clone Wars . The score, composed by Kevin Kiner, sounds thin, when it should sound big. Kiner's no John Williams, and the film, while animated, could have been helped by a meaningful, orchestral score. As of this writing, I haven't seen the film, but on CD the score falls flat--until nearly the end. The cue "Fight to the End" is one of those rousing pieces of music that the "Star Wars" saga is built on. It's loud, its foundation varies wonderfully and smoothly from action to pathos to resolution, each making the others more powerful, and it's big enough to telegraph: This is the moment. In short, it's very John Williams...and that's a good thing. The quality of these few minutes of music tells me Kiner has it in him; why he didn't bring out these guns for the rest of the score is beyond me.

Your assignment, then, for the week: See Mamma Mia because it's fun. See Wall•E because when all the hype fades away, it's the only movie this summer that anyone will still be talking about next summer.

Quote of the Week: Cultural Botox

Disco is back? Or maybe it never really went anywhere.

Quote of the week: Disco is “like cultural Botox. It freezes you into a youthful time when everything is glamorous.” -- Andrew Butler, Hercules and Love Affair

Kelli and Nellie

By Tony Buchsbaum

For anyone who's into Broadway musicals, The Light in the Piazza, which debuted two years ago at Lincoln Center, was and remains a revelation. It brought into the limelight the director Barlett Sher and the ingenue Kelli O'Hara, among other national treasures. But those two, in particular, have return this season in one of most highly-anticipated shows in recent memory, the first-ever revival of Rodgers and Hammerstein's South Pacific. Director and lead actress are united here again, with results that are equally astounding and unforgettable.

The role of Nellie Forbush is one of those indelible roles made more so by the indelible songs she sings (as well as those sung all around her, throughout the show). No one reading this needs a South Pacific lesson, but it might do to say that this show hasn't seen a Broadway staging since the original, starring Mary Martin and Ezio Pinza, closed in 1954.

The show is a bracing denunciation of racism made sweeter--if not bittersweeter--by a heart-melting love story between a nurse and a French planter on an island in the South Pacific, during World War II. Intertwined in their story is that of Cable, a lieutenant who falls for a Polynesian girl who lives on nearby Bali Ha'i, another island. Neither Nellie nor Cable saw their lives unfolding as they do, and the show is essentially an exploration of how their realities diverge from their expectations. It is woven together with a score that contains some of the Broadway's greatest hits, each one a signature song: "Dites-Moi," "Cockeyed Optimist," "Some Enchanted Evening, "Bloody Mary," "There is Nothing Like a Dame," "I'm Gonna Wash that Man Right Outa My Hair," "Bali Ha'i," "Younger Than Springtime," "You've Got to be Carefully Taught."

These alone are reason enough to see this show (or at least buy its CD); the fact that Kelli O'Hara plays Nellie is an added bonus. She is extraordinary in the role and performs the songs as if the lyrics have just occurred to her, not as if they were written 50 years ago. She brings a exuberance to every moment: it's as if no one has felt this way before, no one has voiced these feelings before. Spectacular doesn't even begin to describe it.

Luckily, she is supported by a cast that's up to the task, from Paulo Szot as Emile DeBecque to Loretta Ables Sayre as Bloody Mary to Matthew Morrison as Joe Cable. I wish the whole cast could win a Tony.

Now, once you've experienced South Pacific, turn your attention to the other Keli O'Hara, the one with a new CD called "Wonder in the World". Arranged and orchestrated by Harry Connick, Jr. (her co-star in The Pajama Game), this album of quiet songs is the perfect foil to Nellie Forbush. This is Kelli as Kelli, singing her own kind of music. Like her performance as Nellie, Kelli sings these songs as if they've just occurred to her. In addition to her own jazzy version of "Fable," the finale of Light in the Piazza, Kelli tackles "Fire and Rain," "I Have Dreamed" from The King and I, and several original songs. All wonderful--indeed, all wonders, just as the title promises.

Whether she's Nellie or Kelli, Ms. O'Hara is someone to watch--or rather, someone to listen to. You'll find pleasure in every note.

Still flying after 52 years

By Tony Buchsbaum

When I was a kid, my mother bought me a large-trim hardcover called “The Red Balloon.” It was a storybook of photographs, with some text, about a young Parisian boy whose best friend is a red balloon. Odds are you know the story—it follows him around, gets him into some trouble at school, then is burst by evil boys in the neighborhood—so I won’t belabor it, but to me it was pretty miraculous, especially at the end when all those scores of colorful balloons come to rescue the boy, carrying him high above Paris to…well, to someplace where nasty bullies don’t throw rocks at balloons, I suppose.

Anyway, who knew it was a movie? I was a kid. But wouldn’t you know, it was a movie—and the book was comprised of stills from it.

The Red Balloon film, recently released on DVD from Janus Films, is as wondrous as the book was. A scant 34 minutes, it was directed by Albert Lamorisse and stars his son Pascal as the boy—and it is an absolutely and undeniably charming tale of friendship, disappointment, and redemption. The direction is, well, direct, without any sense of artifice. Lamorisse tells his story almost matter-of-factly, shot after simple shot. The film’s power rests almost entirely in just two things: the innocent charm of the his son Pascal’s natural way with the camera (that is, he virtually ignores it), and the knowing, almost winking charm of the balloon itself. It follows the boy, dips, drops, and flies—almost like a dog who’s eager to please.

I found it fascinating, as I was watching, that there seemed to be no special effects trickery in bringing the balloon to life—in the end, it is filled with more personality than helium. It’s very large, shiny, and red, stark in contrast to the gray and brown Paris buildings and rain-dampened streets. I have yet to figure out how Lamorisse made the thing work; it just seems to be, a character fully unto itself. Viewed against the movies made today, when even crossing the street can require a team of people creating some form of computer animation, The Red Balloon is grossly understated. I can’t say enough how simple this film is, and so refreshing in its simplicity. It seems to want for nothing more than to briefly entertain. When it’s over, you’re left story…but also with the nagging notion than while balloons don’t act this way in real life, this particular balloon certainly knows how to act in reel life.

The Red Balloon is a film for the ages…and a film for all ages. I haven’t yet found a way to pry my boys away from their special effects-laden adventures, but as soon as I do, this is what’s going into the DVD player.

Review: Dylanesque Live: The London Sessions by Bryan Ferry

Bryan Ferry
Dylanesque Live: The London Sessions (Eagle Rock Entertainment)

Reviewed by Pedro Blas Gonzalez


Dylanesque Live is a video performance of Bryan Ferry’s recording sessions of his latest album Dylanesque (Virgin Records). The DVD includes four bonus tracks, including a 1973 video of Ferry’s take on Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.” Also of interest are several interviews where Ferry gets an opportunity to explain the rationale -- and justification, for some -- for his choice in recording Dylan songs. Perhaps this DVD and album of the same name will be received differently by the two rather dissimilar camps: Bob Dylan and Bryan Ferry/Roxy Music fans.


However, Dylan fans should take comfort in the fact that other able musicians would want to cover his music. This has been the case with even greater songwriters and lyricists of Tin Pan Alley’s Golden Age like Jerome Kern, Cole Porter, Richard Rogers and Irving Berlin. Their compositions have passed on to become the standards, as these pieces have now been immortalized as being an essential part of the American soundtrack.

Somehow, I get the impression Dylanesque Live will sound more soothing to those familiar with the Bryan Ferry/Roxy Music sound. There are several reasons for this. Dylan fans have had ample time to get used to his twangy voice and inflection. I suppose that, for Dylan purists, that along with his acoustic guitar, harmonica and abrasive lyrics serves as the foundation to embrace his music. For these fans, Bryan Ferry’s arrangements will sound strange, at best.

The Bryan Ferry fan, on the other hand, knows him to be an urbane sophisticate. His music is vitally sensual. As he says in several of the interviews in the DVD, “you try to bring a little character to the songs.” Yet let us not lose sight of the fact that Ferry’s Dylanesque Live is a tribute to Dylan’s music. Thus, part of Ferry’s justification in recording this album is that there is no sound logic and purpose in repeating the Dylan sound.

There’s no doubt that this recording is an interesting mix of folk music and the svelte, midnight sound for which Ferry is best known. “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” is a fine upbeat example of this musical synchronism. This is perhaps the best song in the album. With harmonica in hand, a truly competent band backing him and four background singers in tow, Ferry truly shines in this piece. “The Times They Are A-Changin” also enjoys a re-vitalization that ought to incite excitement in the Dylan crowd. The beauty of Ferry’s music is the patience that his songs exhibit. When listening to this track one does not get the impression that there is an end in sight, for his songs do not have formulaic beginning, middle and end parts.

Another example of this is the piano-driven “Positively 4th Street.” Chris Spedding, formerly of Roxy Music, delivers a beautiful acoustic guitar solo that, along with the piano makes this song a much more polished and sophisticated sound than the original composition. Of course, Ferry also gets it right on songs like “All Along the Watchtower” with his use of a rather tastefully restrained and not over the top guitar solo. Also surprisingly enjoyable in this latest embodiment is “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door.” Dare I say that this Bryan Ferry recording and DVD actually adds some much needed cosmopolitan lure and spontaneity to these Dylan songs?


Pedro Blas Gonzalez is Associate Professor of Philosophy at Barry University in Miami, Florida. Amongst his intellectual pursuits is his interest in the relationship that exists between subjectivity, self-autonomy and philosophy.

The Pillowman Comes to Vancouver

This has nothing to do with music. Don’t bother me with details!

Finally! We’re there. I’ve said “break a leg” so often today, it’s sticking to the roof of my mouth. (But it’s a nice sticking. An okay sticking.)

I won’t see tonight’s performance, but I’ll be there tomorrow for the official opening night. And deeper in the run, as well. If you’re in the Vancouver area, make a point of taking in the show. It’s really not much more expensive than a movie, but so much more reality than reality television ever offered. (With the added attraction of being completely made up!)

I was delighted to see that The Vancouver Sun made it one of their Critic’s Picks and The Georgia Straight did something likewise, but I can’t yet find the link online. And Wikipedia included it in the international Pillowman performances listed, confirming our guess that this was, in fact, the first Vancouver performance of this important play. The Next Stage Video Listings does a fun interview with Michael Karl Richards and Matthew Harrison here.

All the salient info bits are in this teeny version of the poster, included at left, though you can order tickets directly from the Firehall Theatre here.

Maybe we’ll see you there!

Weinstein Company Options Marley Story

Variety reports that the Weinstein Company has optioned rights to Rita Marley’s 2004 autobiography No Woman No Cry: My Life With Bob Marley (Hyperion), “with plans to develop and produce a biopic about the legendary Jamaican singer.”

The project is in early development, with a late 2009 release date anticipated.

Published by Hyperion in 2004, book chronicles the couple's tempestuous marriage, which began in 1966 and weathered numerous separations and affairs, the birth of four children together (Marley may have fathered as many as 22 in all, 10 legally recognized) and an assassination attempt in 1976.

The Variety piece is here. January Magazine ran an excerpt of the book when it was first published. You can see that excerpt here.

Review: Memory Almost Full by Paul McCartney

Paul McCartney
Memory Almost Full (MPL Communications Ltd, 2007)

Reviewed by Pedro Blas Gonzalez

In an industry that is shamelessly producer driven, people who are responsible for assembling half-competent groups overnight, and who make dress, spectacle and outrage take center stage -- not music -- Paul McCartney proves the value of being an island of talent in a sea of momentary and fashionable refuse.

In Memory Almost Full, his latest inspiration, all tracks are written and composed by McCartney, in addition to playing all instruments except strings. This album closely resembles the musical and creative energy that he displayed in his two other distinctive solo productions, McCartney, immediately before the formation of Wings and McCartney II, coming on the heels of the breakup of that memorable group.

The 13 tracks that make up this album revolve around the theme of the passage of time and ageing. These themes find sublime, poetic expression especially on songs like: “Ever Present Past,” “You Tell Me,” “That Was Me,” “Feet in the Clouds,” “House of Wax” and “The End of the End.” These songs are evocative of the meaning of the album’s title, Memory Almost Full, or what is essentially a reflection on the end of life.

“Dance Tonight” along with “Ever Present Past,” the two signature releases of the album, are both uptempo songs. Characteristic of McCartney’s music, none of these recordings telegraph the punches. Surprise and unpredictability continue to be a staple of his music. The melodies in this album are piano-driven. Even this is interesting, because none of these studio recordings come across as being emblematic of mere rock music. All of the songs accomplish much more than the limitations set by standard rock songs.

For instance, “Dance Tonight” employs a playful mandolin as the dominant instrument and McCartney whistling portions of the catchy melody. “Ever Present Past” is perhaps the best example of his use of guitar riffs. However, refusing to write songs that are moved along by overly aggressive drumming and a frantic tempo, this album is another example of McCartney’s individualistic disregard for the taste of his critics. For the decade that Wings existed, the music press hurled unqualified criticism at the group for not sounding like every other rock group. For his part, McCartney did not tow the line and ended up by creating music that has stood the test of time.

“See Your Sunshine” is a melodic song that displays great interplay of piano and his well respected booming bass, which never exists as mere backdrop rhythm. “Only Mama Knows” begins and ends with beautifully melodic strings. For those looking for a genuinely dyed-in-the-wool rock song, this song will not disappoint.
The acoustic ballad “You Tell Me” is reminiscent of old McCartney downtempo songs. Actually, this song conveys a rather sad quality that bespeaks of the nostalgia of days gone by. “The End of the End” contains some of McCartney’s most pressing lyrics. The song is about how he would like to be remembered. Here, we once again encounter him whistling the melody, as if gentling walking away into some post-mortal realm.

“That Was Me” displays an autobiographical flair, where McCartney is awed by the passing years, from childhood to fame and stardom, and culminating in old age. His bass line in this song is some of his most poignant yet. Jazzy fingering techniques carry this song. “House of Wax,” a quasi-lament, finds him giving his all emotionally.

If forced to choose the most endearing and memorable quality of Memory Almost Full, one would have to say that the lyrics of these songs are some of the most profound and poignant that he has ever composed. This is a moving record that is replete with melodies that will easily become classic McCartney songs. It is also a glaring indictment of just how much talent actually still matters.


Pedro Blas Gonzalez is Associate Professor of Philosophy at Barry University in Miami, Florida. Amongst his intellectual pursuits is his interest in the relationship that exists between subjectivity, self-autonomy and philosophy.

"Sweeney" is to die for

By Tony Buchsbaum

Movie musicals are back, and for a while there it looked like they wouldn't be. A few years ago there was Chicago, which took in buckets of dough and snagged a Best Picture Oscar. And then last year there was the amazing Dreamgirls, for which Jennifer Hudson snagged a Best Supporting Actress Oscar. And now comes one of Stephen Sondheim's most popular, and most often mounted, musicals, Sweeney Todd, for which the advance word is nothing short of spectacular, with notable huzzahs for Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, and director Tim Burton.

But my mission here isn't to tell you how great the film is (I haven't seen it). Rather, I'm here to tell you how great the soundtrack is.

This, of course, is not the first time Sweeney has been recorded. There's the original 1979 Broadway Cast Recording, which was fairly recently remastered and reissued, there was a highly-regarded concert version recorded in 2000 at Lincoln Center, and there was a 2005 Broadway revival in which the actors all played musical instruments in addition to acting. (Sounds strange, though the reviews were great.)

This Sweeney, though, is different. Stephen Sondheim himself has stepped up to sort of reimagine his own musical, not changing it so much as allowing it to live as a film animal rather than a stage animal. He deserves a big standing O for doing so. Whole songs have been cut--including what is essentially the title song, "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd"--and others have been trimmed (if not, somewhat appropriately, chopped). What remains is a streamlined Sweeney recrafted for the screen. Burton's vision is not what has ever appeared on Broadway; it is not simply a filmed stage show. Rather, he has Burton-ized it, inserted his fave actor in the title role, and gone to town.

The music is sometimes heart-stopping, and not just because the orchestra is a big one. This is big, important music, and it comes across loud and clear on CD. From the opening credits music (an adaptation of "Ballad"), you know this is a movie of power, of dark themes. The music almost sounds vengeful.

But then the singing starts, with all its references to blood and slaying and revenge and death. There's lighter fare, love songs and funny songs, but this ain't no vapid musical. Nor is it a message piece. This is love and death (especially death), through and through.

The soundtrack features just about everything. In "No Place Like London," Sweeney and his friend Anthony muse about the city: Anthony's vision is lovely, Sweeney's version is bleak and black. In "Worst Pies in London," Mrs. Lovett works too hard to make meat pies that are nothing short of a health hazard. "My Friends" finds Sweeney rediscovering his barber's knives, grooming tools he will turn into weapons. My favorite song, "A Little Priest," finds Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett musing about the taste of pies made from the men whose throats Sweeney cuts in the barber's chair. (Did I mention there's a cannibalistic throughline here?)

My only complaint is Bonham Carter. She's been a dependable, sometimes brilliant actress, but in recent years she's pretty much remained a Burton staple. Here, though charming, she shows a weakness: her singing voice. Can she hit Sondheim's notoriously difficult notes? Yes? But her voice is thin, her delivery a bot forced and breathy. Her Mrs. Lovett may be acted well, but her gusto, her robustness as a character, is missing in the music. You want someone, I think, whose passion matches Sweeney's own: unbridled, unrepentant, unpleasant. As it is, this Mrs. Lovett sounds more like sweetness gone evil in the name of love.

But then, maybe she's a metaphor for the whole bloody musical.

Maria Schneider Orchestra and Sky Blue

If you’ve listened to enough big band jazz, you recognize the pattern easily enough. After the tempo is counted off, the trumpets often roar in with the straight melody, establishing authority and expectations. The theme is handed off, quite frequently to the reed section, who takes the ball and runs with it, generally with a solo taken from within its ranks, only to be answered with a brass solo, followed by a headlong rush with sections trading off eight bar riffs, the rhythm section churning away, concluding with the return of the melody at full blast, and stopping on a dime. In the hands of a gifted composer/arranger like Stan Kenton, Count Basie, Billy Strayhorn, or even the more recent examples of Carla Bley and Toshiko Akiyoshi, the result can be thrilling. But Maria Schneider is in a different game altogether. Her most recent release, Sky Blue, is the culmination of a career dedicated to making a big band sound symphonic and evocative.

Schneider, an admitted protégé of the legendary Gil Evans, who made his arrangements of Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess sound like a string of jazz concertos for band and trumpet (the horn belonging to his partner Miles Davis) has been quietly building an impressive catalog over 20 years. Her music may be challenging to the musician, but it sounds effortless and natural to the listener.

Sky Blue starts simply enough with a pop-like tribute to her home town in rural Minnesota. “The Pretty Road” is a showcase for trumpet soloist Ingrid Jensen, who soars above the band trilling and darting in and out of registers like a kite against a Minnesota sky. Lyric-less vocals from Luciana Souza add an other-worldly air to the piece, which concludes almost abruptly, not unlike passing the Minnesota town of Windom where Schneider grew up on an adjacent interstate.

“Aires de Lando,” despite the Peruvian title, almost sounds like Klezmer waltz at the beginning, thanks to the prominent clarinet of Scott Robinson. Written in 12/8, the trombones provide a pulsing foundation to the tune, as slowly the meter becomes more complex and colorful. Listening to it, I could picture in my mind’s eye an elderly couple sliding across a dance floor in an elegant tango.

The showcase of this CD is “Cerulean Skies,” Schneider’s mediation on birds, and in particular the cerulean warbler, whose recorded call makes an appearance at the end of the piece (other birdcalls are courtesy of the musicians including Jensen, Rich Perry and Schneider herself). Schneider writes extensively in her liner notes about the joys of being a bird enthusiast in New York City. She tells us that in Central Park, not far from her home, “you can easily be transported to a forest far from humanity.” “Cerulean Skies” is definitely a piece about flight, and at over 20 minutes, is a piece that requires a listener’s full attention. Donny McCaslin’s tenor sax brings the listener in mind of a bird circling over a landscape, incessantly calling to its companions (or its mate?) while engaging in aerial gymnastics that a lesser creature attached to the land would envy. Gary Versace’s solo on accordion brings a new dimension to an instrument that is usually relegated to polka bands and novelty acts. The shrill tones, which fade in and out and held a beat longer than you’re prepared for, provide not only some level of tension, but are creatively resolved when chords provide the notion of a squadron of birds singing together.

Schneider’s previous album, Concert in the Garden, received widespread attention when it became the first CD sold exclusively on the Internet to win a Grammy Award. Sky Blue received considerable attention in the jazz press, owing to the sponsorships that Schneider solicited to assist in the cost of producing the finished product. Schneider sells her work through her Web site, which connects to ArtistShare, which is slowly picking up steam in the world of music commerce. While the business model remains intriguing, it has, unfortunately, overshadowed the resulting music. Coming off a Grammy-winning album can’t be easy, but the musical depth of Sky Blue easily surpasses the excellent Concert in the Garden. It is glorious.