Ben Wishaw and Abbie Cornich in Jane Campion's "Bright Star"
With a nomination for the Palm d’Or at Cannes, the year’s Oscar nominations should also include Ms. Campion, (as writer and/or director) Ms. Cornich (actress in a leading role) and perhaps the lenswork of young Greg Fraser, a native of Melbourne who has illuminated and recorded the talent like a twenty-first century Vermeer. The film's score by Mark Bradshaw is appropriately spartan and a compliment, beginning with the opening strains of a cello combined with Mr. Fraser's detailed photography, welcoming us into 19th century life. Not since the lush textures of Merchant-Ivory have period audiences been given such high art. There will even be some audience acclaim for a housecat whose onscreen performance nearly upstages the human talent in more than one scene, becoming props in more than one sense of that word.
Indisputable Comeback
What Ms. Campion’s screenwriting and directing has achieved, using the Andrew Motion biography and Keats’ own letters as her foundation, is the indisputable comeback of her career. Since her Academy Award for 1993’s “The Piano,” her feature work has been largely underwhelming and often difficult to find. Now with her dialogue framing the poetic essence of love and transcendent creativity, New Zealand’s premiere writer/director accurately shows her audience how Keats discovered, defended and profoundly understood that there is a “holiness to the heart’s affection.” Even beyond that, she has offered and defended Keats’ own confusion about love and its yearnings before discovering inspiration from the intelligent affections of Fanny Brawne. (Keats’ letters have recently been re-published in the U.S. by Penguin Books in a co-marketing effort with BBC Films and Screen Australia).
This story also has ample creative tension, deftly illustrated in the relationship of Keats with his patron and collaborator Charles Armitage Brown (Paul Schneider). In Campion’s cinematic construct, the literature may unfold over “Ode to a Nightingale” but the love existing between the two men is eventually eclipsed by the poet’s burgeoning enchantment with Fanny Brawne and Keats' consumptive disease. For these reasons and more, the richness and scope of “Bright Star” shouldn’t be the province of poetry lovers only. Even though period costume dramas such as this lack luster at the box office, the brilliance of this “Bright Star” may yet be appreciated by young audiences attracted to stars like Wishaw and Cornich. Since the film is devoid of prurient or sensuous detail and will undoubtedly carry a PG-13 MPAA rating, it allows the simple elegance and charm of this love story amidst regency life to prevail. Those drawn to the tragic mortality that's found in the Twilight series of vampire romance can now truly understand that “a thing of beauty is a joy forever…”
Sometimes I forget that the exhibitors are having a tough go of it these days. They often get first-run films on a "sliding scale," which means that the distributor, (in this case Universal) gets the largest percentage of the gate, even when that includes less than a dozen tickets sold on a Wednesday 9pm showing. Before the platters in the projection booth begin spinning, there are often advertisements for local businesses up on the screen with hometown production values and sound and likely a reminder that our mobile phones should be muted by now. Then a couple of trailers for a "coming soon" feature, (in this case, the high-testosteroned "Gamer," and the pleasantly amusing, "Couples Retreat") and we then get the cues that the feature is about to begin.
As in many of Michael Mann's possessories, the graphics and title treatment are spartan, leaving us to engage as quickly as possible. Mr. Mann leaves much of the "above title" material to the end, in the credit sequence, where film devotees and students learn a lot about the production values from the credits and acknowledgements at the end of the film. (Stanley Kubrick's "Barry Lyndon" had more than a dozen millinary credits) The astute observer can learn where the locations were facilitated and by whom, as well as how many second-unit cameras were deployed on the production, getting material that the main cast and crew don't have the time for.
I had been told that the Dante Spinotti's use of Zeiss lenses, combined with the Sony high-definition camera recording backs had been so faithful to the observed action, that "theatrical makeup" could be noted on the principal talent and that too much handheld lenswork was distracting from the story. This is significant, if anecdotal, criticism in an industry that thrives on the "willing suspension of disbelief" as much as it does popcorn, soft drinks and other comfort foods. (A small digression: When high-definition came to the "adult film industry," the first concerns were registered by actresses who complained that their extreme closeups in high-def were costing them too much salary for additional cosmetic procedures)
Because I'd been aware that "Public Enemies" had not originated on film, I was interested in noting the light-to-lens quality of the production, especially since Sony had premiered the Universal trailer at this year's NAB in Las Vegas. (If you watch the trailer on this website, you'll see flawless picture that will translate to superb Blu-Ray and with all of the lighting technique of the master filmmakers in place).
When the first frames appeared, I had thought that the vertical scratch lines running through the first scene of the prison break were a touch of authenticity added by Mr. Mann in post. Not so. It seems that with all of the hoopla about the production not originating on film, Universal distributing still had to send out several hundred film prints to exhibitors far and wide because many do not have high-definition projection equipment in their theatres.
A pity.
Pristenely captured high-definition picture later marred by conversion to film negative and release prints where negative scratches appear as black lines and dirt on the film negative produces momentary blackspots in the frame. Realistic for a period picture set in 1930 or unintended adulteration? (You be the judge).
I was willing to get over all of this in an effort to enjoy Michael Mann's most recent work, but as many critics have already written, this one is underwhelming. When one thinks of previous films directed by the Mann who brought us "The Last of the Mohicans" and "Collateral" we can expect more than what was hyped so well. As a period piece, it is believable, but not in the same league as Polanski's "Chinatown," or even "The Aviator."
The grand mal faux pas was elicited by the hapless projectionist at this little venue in a college town steeped in the dominant culture which claims to be the most threatened by Hollywood. I was interested to see who I might recognize from the dozens of craftspeople and artists who contributed to the picture's success, and also to hear the remaining strains of the music soundtrack, when before the crawl had gone past the first dozen names, it simply went dark.
Immediately recognizing that the projectionist had turned off the projector's xenon lamp (in the old days it was a "carbon arc" similar to a welder's burn) before the credits had gone very far, I lept to my feet and spun around, staring at the tiny hole in the wall at the back of the room and yelled, "HEY!!"
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME???" I continued, as the concession lady-turned-janitor almost jumped into her dustbin underneath the projection window. I need to develop more British reserve sometime in the near future, but tonight I marched into the lobby looking for the stairs that would take me to the offending projectionist. I was stopped at the dark concession stand next to the stairs by the six-foot, four-inch, 240 pound ticket taker who politely said, "I'm the projectionist." At this point, I should point out that in small towns, many of the men serve either as reserve law enforcement officers or actually are moonlighting deputy sheriffs and I have no idea how close I was to being arrested for creating a Hollywood-like disturbance in the now deserted lobby.
I'm afraid that I launched into a passionate explanation of "those are people's very lives up there on that credit sequence... blah, blah, buggering blah" toward a man who could have scored a takedown and pinned me in less than the time it takes you to read this sentence. To any projectionists out there who might have the remotest chance of reading these words, I say, "I know it's late, and that you'd like to get home. But as you go to ancillary duties, even if the theatre is completely empty, would it hurt to leave the lamp on and let the credits play out while you swab the restroom floor?? I mean, I turned my mobile phone off for you and everything!!"
We apologize in advance for being so self-absorbed as to have our names there, even if it's really a contractual obligation. Your life is important to us, too. But if you ever have the chance to be on a large production film set or a sound stage in Culver City or Burbank, you may someday know why it means something to have your name roll by at the end of the show, when most people are already in their cars headed for home.
Like I was as La Luna hid her face behind the ambered clouds in shame.
this is not Liz Smith
Recently, the New York Post's Liz Smith - a real veteran gossip columnist- was given a broadcast bouquet to her long and acclaimed professional life as she prepared for retirement. What struck me as revealing about the times we live in, was her televised lament about having to go to her computer in the mornings to obtain her daily briefing from the "newspapers." She said she really missed the ability to go over her day's columns on paper over coffee. While many people I've contacted feel the same way, the director of Liz's piece went to an extreme close-up which emphasized her experience and to some extent, her unspoken acceptance of her pending retirement.
She might know of the coolest website in news, The New York Times' online edition, but she wanted her familiar routine, entrenched over the years, to remain the same. Sorry, Liz. Your newspaper's print format is doomed. Their business model has to yield to the realities of the 21st century's breakeven point. Get a laptop and be sure not to allow your brew or muffin crumbs over the keyboard.
At a recent business conference, a facilitator was endorsing the use of Twitter as a way management could keep track of their staff's efforts. You define your pool of tweeple and who has access to your posts. There seems to be a good and viable business model in there somewhere, Evan. But someone needs to help you e-preneurs understand how you can invent, produce and then promote your products without getting too far into our minds and living rooms. I've never invited the paperboy in, but with electronic communications becoming more ubiquitous, our viral addictions may still be propagating. Somewhere.
Get it?
