Entries from December 2009 ↓

The Pledge.

The Turn.

The Prestige.

(From a recent performance for Blue Mountain Arts annual sales meeting. All photos courtesy of my friend John Hudetz at www.hudetzphotography.com)

In recognition of the new High Definition Television in our household, as well as the addition of a Blu-ray player, I set my mind to cataloging 20 films that I have viewed repeatedly (and that will demand future viewing). Films that for a multitude of reasons resonate with my aesthetic sense.

These films are not the greatest films ever made. They are not even (necessarily) high art. They are simply films which — time after time — have proved their worth to me by consistently delivering on their promises.

I’ve limited myself to one film for each director in an effort to diversify the selection.

Here they are in the order they came to mind:

• The Godfather – The film I’ve watched more than any other. Visually beautiful, superb acting, and concise storytelling. Coppola at his best. If I wasn’t limiting myself to one film per director, I’d naturally add the Godfather Part II with Robert Di Niro.
• The Graduate – The epitome of what I call the “Male Chick-Flick,” which (as I define it) is a plot involving a young man, content with his life, who drifts along until meeting a woman who gives his life meaning and inspires him to greater things. The woman’s character is generally thinly written as she is merely the catalyst who inspires the protagonist to action.
• Raging Bull – I’m not generally a Scorsese fan, but for me, all his themes come to life in this film. Plus Robert De Niro playing Jake La Motta playing Marlon Brando playing Terry Malloy, is not to be missed.
• Birdy – Alan Parker’s quirky film about flying, freedom, and passion, with Nicholas Cage and Matthew Modine.
• What’s Eating Gilbert Grape – Another “Male Chick-Flick,” with Johnny Depp and Leonardo DiCaprio (when DiCaprio was still willing to take risks as an actor and hadn’t become so meticulous about managing his image).
• Miller’s Crossing – A Cohen brothers film and another gangster film. I ought to confess that the gangster film is my favorite of all American film genres. I’ve seen them all. From Paul Muni’s Scarface to Dustin Hoffman’s less probable Dutch Schultz.
• Midnight Run – Not high art, but hits all the right notes. Charles Grodin’s dead-pan performance perfectly complements Di Niro’s no-nonsense bounty hunter.
• American Beauty – Sam Mendes’s tribute to the Artist who sees the truth where others are beguiled by lies. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m sure. But don’t worry…you will, someday.”
• Comedian – Jerry Seinfeld exposes the toil and the insecurity behind the act of creation. The real work revealed.
• Brazil – The ultimate dystopia film. The cameo by Robert Di Niro makes me feel like this list has suddenly become an homage to Di Niro.
• Seven Samurai – I could have listed a dozen films by Akira Kurasawa that deserve inclusion. This is my favorite. Not a single wasted shot.
• Wings of Desire – Wim Wenders incredible film about the beauty of mortality, the joy of engagement, the preciousness of life.
• My Dinner with Andre – The film I’ve watched the most after the Godfather. But it’s likely that you need to be involved in the theatre in order to enjoy watching two men sit and talk over dinner for 2 hours.
• In America – Like “American Beauty” this film shares the conceit of seeing truth through the lens of a character’s hand-held camcorder, but this time we see the world through the eyes of a young girl immigrating to America. And Samantha Morton rocks.
• Mishima: A Life in Four Acts – Paul Schrader masterfully reveals the life of Yukio Mishima through theatrical stagings of his writings, black & white flashbacks, and a dramatic act of pen and sword.
• Do the Right Thing – Spike Lee’s fable of racial tension and misunderstanding in the midst of a heat wave.
• Punch Drunk Love – An unexpectedly great performance from Adam Sandler and some unexpected off-kilter camera work from Paul Thomas Anderson (and another example of the “Male Chick Flick”).
• Blue Velvet – The American small town with picket fence facade hides something strange and disturbing just beneath the surface. The quintessential David Lynch film.
• Broadway Danny Rose – When I lived in California I would spend Thanksgiving weekend watching KCOP’s Woody Allen Marathon, so I could have included many other Woody Allen films on this list, but BDR makes the cut for “Acceptance, Forgiveness, and Love.”
• Princess Mononoke – Really, all the films of Hayao Miyazaki should be listed here. Only animation could begin to capture the fertile vision of Miyazaki. The worlds he creates are unlike any other in the cinema.
• Face Off – Enter the hyper-violent world of John Woo. Fluttering doves and machine gun fire. Plus John Travolta and Nicholas Cage give uncanny performances as each other’s characters. (Ignore the chase scene at the end which was tacked on gratuitously at the behest of the producers I’m sure.)

I’ve lost count, but I think that’s 20 films. Maybe someday, I’ll expand the list to 100 films, though I’m not sure what I (or you) would gain from such an exercise. These 20 films provide a decent cross-section of films that have made their mark on me, and that have influenced my work and my life.

I leave you to draw your own conclusions.

I’ve been thinking about this post for a while; it turns out it’s harder to write than I had anticipated.

My friend, Frank Georgiana, died on November 22, 2009, at the age of 74. He was an actor and director in the Colorado theater community. You can read about his life here in the Denver Post.

I served as stage manager for a number of his productions with the Boulder Repertory Theater. And from Frank, I learned what it means to be an artist.

As stage manager, my job was to set the stage, lay out the props, coordinate lights & sound, make sure actors were in place for their entrances, communicate with the box office, play the occasional walk-on part, and clean up and repack after the show. In general, I was charged with making sure that thing ran smoothly behind the scenes — dispensing band-aids for unexpected cuts, safety pins to mend torn costumes, and once even arranging a trip to the hospital for someone who was having a heart attack.

Frank and his wife Ernestine had lived in New York and had seen more theater than I could begin to fathom. Oftentimes, after the stage was set, we’d break for a light dinner and Frank would tell us stories about the productions he had seen.

Frank and Ernestine witnessed Peter Brook’s groundbreaking production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” in 1970. And not just any performance of the show — they were present at the legendary performance in which the scenery caught fire. As the crew worked to put out the fire, a tremor of panic began to ripple across the audience, but moving quickly, the actor John Kane (staying in character as Puck) came down to the footlights to reassure the audience that they needn’t be afraid, the fire was a very small one, however, if anyone were the least bit frightened, they were welcome to excuse themselves and wait in the lobby with his solemn promise that the actors would not continue until everyone had returned to their seats. As a theater student I found reference to this production in my textbooks, but the story never came to life until I heard Frank and Ernestine tell it.

Frank would bemoan the fact that the raising of the curtain at the start of a show had lately fallen out of fashion. He felt it was crass to have your set on display before the play even began, cheating the audience out of the feelings of anticipation they receive while they wait for the curtain to rise. He told of a music and dance revue in which, after the orchestra had completed the overture, the curtain rose six inches and stopped, revealing a pair of tap-dancing feet. Then the curtain inched up a little further and two more dancers joined in the rhythm. Creeping up further the curtain revealed a half-dozen, then a dozen, then two dozen dancing legs joining the fray. By the time the curtain had risen to waist height, the stage was filled with hundreds of feet tapping out a furious clatter. And finally, when the curtain rapidly ascended to reveal a spectacular stage full of costumed dancers, the audience let loose with a roar of approval.

Another favorite story of Frank’s was of his seeing a play that featured a peculiar actress: young, frail, and mousy. The actress sat silently in a chair upstage, while all around her, the other actors drove the action of the play. But there was something compelling about her presence; Frank’s gaze was drawn to her like a magnet. Although she said nothing and remained confined to her chair, he couldn’t stop watching her. Then suddenly, as the first act came to a close, she convulsed in seizure and fell to the floor. And the audience erupted with screams of pandemonium, so riveting has been this actress’s performance. The actress was a very young Sissy Spacek.

More important than the stories, however, was Frank’s commitment and devotion to his art. A point that comes across only mutedly in the Denver Post article is that Frank held himself to the highest standards for all his work in the theater. He wasn’t on stage to feed his vanity. He wasn’t there to collect a paycheck. He was there seeking perfection. He could see clearly the deep power of theater to affect an audience, and he set the very highest standards for himself — and for those around him — as he embarked to bring his vision to life.

Working backstage on one of Frank’s productions would catapult me into a state of alert vigilance. I was always fearful of letting my guard down, of making a mistake. And while Frank was quick to anger and showed no tolerance for mistakes, it was not his anger that put me on edge.

What made me anxious and vigilant was that after all the time Frank had invested in bringing the production to life, after all the toil the actors had put into making Frank’s vision a reality, I could sense that he had brought us within striking distance of giving a perfect gift to the audience. And I was keenly aware that the slightest lapse of attention on my part could mar the production, could rob the audience, and could undermine all that we had worked to achieve.

Not everyone could endure the fiery heat of Frank’s passion, but for many of us, working with Frank brought out our best. Working with Frank made us fervent with the desire to create something beautiful, perfect, and worthy.

Working with Frank brought me to realize that I had been a dilettante, that my expectations had been too meager, that I needed to set my sights much higher.

He never settled for less than perfect. He was an inspiration.

The New York Times calls Jim Steinmeyer the “celebrated invisible man — inventor, designer and creative brain behind many of the great stage magicians of the last quarter-century.” And while I am not a large-scale illusionist (working instead in the realm of sleight of hand), I have the deepest respect for Mr. Steinmeyer and this thoughts on the art of magic.

In a lecture Steinmeyer gave earlier this year (“Robert Harbin & the Polemics of Modern Illusion,” February 2009), he offered his thoughts on why Robert Harbin’s illusions have become classics of modern magic.

One quality Steinmeyer identified was that Harbin’s illusions have “a way in for the magician.” That is, Harbin’s illusions — in their very construction — give the magician something to do (doors to open, panels to insert).

A good illusion allows plenty of room for the magician: things for them to do, elements to talk about and accentuate, and opportunities to be interesting or charming. Like a good song, they are meant to be performed, and they are designed to show off a great performance.

I would extend Steinmeyer’s observation to the performance of close-up magic by proposing this modification: Good close-up magic will have a way in for the audience.

That is, good close-up magic ought to be constructed to allow room for the audience. After all, the very proximity of the audience means that magician and audience share the stage together. Good close-up magic is magic that gives the audience things to do, gives them opportunities to be interesting or charming, allows them to share the limelight.

Magic that requires an audience member to pick a card and then merely sit and watch cannot reach the same potential as magic that gives the participants a way into the action, an opportunity to shuffle the cards, to secure the magician’s sleeves, to inspect the props.

Over the years, through a process of natural selection, I’ve observed that magic that doesn’t offer a way in for the audience (magic in which the audience simply sits and watches) has not earned a place in my professional repertoire.

My close-up magic that allows a way in for the audience is simply better.

For what it’s worth, here’s a view of the U.S. economy through my narrow and limited lens as a magician and supplier for the meeting and events industry.

Tis the season for the company holiday party. In general, December is the busiest month of the year for those magicians who perform grown-up magic in the corporate market. I usually see an exhilarating spike in business in the first half of December.

December of 2008, however, was spike-less. A combination of uncertainty (with regards to the economy) and an unjustified stigma against even the appearance of fun within a corporate entity conspired to make it an underwhelming close to 2008.

So what of 2009?

Well, I received more inquiries this year than last, but buyers seemed to be extremely price conscious. I am aware of some gigs lost to lower priced alternatives. And instead of booking their December events 3-6 months in advance, many planners waited until the last minute (unsure, perhaps, of how much money would be available).

I also had more requests than ever before for shorter performances to help accommodate smaller budgets. And more holiday parties were held on week nights rather than weekends (to qualify for non-peak pricing on venues, one assumes).

From where I sit, the economy has not yet begun to recover, there’s still a lot of uncertainty about how businesses will make their numbers in 2010. On the positive side, however, it is no longer optically anathema for a company to have fun and show some love and appreciation to their hard-working employees.

So for my industry, I’m calling the glass half-full for the end of 2009.

Goodness! It started out as a brief break from blogging, which turned into a hiatus, that then evolved an extended absence. Now here I am, almost a year later, returning to a derelict blog, dusty and cobweb-ridden.

During my absence, I’ve continued to think about blogging (observing and reading the bloggings of others) and I’ve begun to develop with a better sense of what I can accomplish, and what I’d like to say about magic and life as a variety arts performer.

But rather than generating a mammoth post expounding upon what I intend to do, I think it best simply to put the plan into action.

So with that, I’ll close (for now).