My breath caught when my cousin Kerry O’Malley said this line in David Fincher’s The Killer, now streaming on Netflix. Her face, her tone, her collapsed body language, was all so open and so desperate, and she knew it was useless to beg (she knew whose hands she was in), but she had to plead for her life.
The whole sequence was heartbreaking and yet also fascinating on a psychological level.
Who is this woman? She’s a nice lady living in a nice little house working in an office in her muted-colored Talbot’s clothes … and yet …
“I’m not a bad person.”
The second key line reading.
The character’s whole life is in that line. Kerry didn’t put too much on it. She didn’t INSIST she wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t use the line to plead with him. By that point, she was beyond begging. When she says, “I’m not a bad person”, she is past even worrying about whether or not it is true. She herself knows it probably isn’t true. But she has spent her life justifying her actions.
Through such people, horrors are made possible. The Eichmanns of the world.
This is what Kerry brought to the role.
So proud of her, especially since she’s been on strike for months and months, enduring financial hardship, etc. She deserves this success. Hers is the standout scene.
Presley didn’t stay a “private”, he was promoted to Sergeant in January, 1960. I just liked the alliteration of “Private Presley”.
Sept. 23, 1958: Interview with Elvis Presley in the library of the U.S.S. Randall just before sailing to Europe
Elvis had had a chaotic couple of days prior, taking the train up from Texas with his fellow soldiers to Brooklyn Army Terminal. He then gave a giant press conference and then boarded the ship. His mother had died just a month before, and Elvis was still in a whirlwind of grief. He cracked jokes through the Press Conference, though, and eagerly talked about his mother when he was asked a question about her. Then, he slung on his duffel bag and walked up the gangplank. He was made to repeat his walk about 10 times so that all the photographers could get the shots they wanted. It was a madhouse. Once on board, he checked in, and then went to the ship library to give his final interview State-side. The feel of the interview is very different from the Press Conference. The interview here is one-on-one. In the audio of the interview, he sounds exhausted, serious, thoughtful (he takes a while to answer questions, thinking it through) and unmistakably worried. Although he was not shipping out during wartime, there were other worries on his mind. What would life be like when he returned to America and his mother wasn’t there waiting? Would his fans remember him? Would he return a has-been?
Pat Hernon conducted the on-ship interview. You can hear voices in the background, doors opening and closing. Elvis is quiet and exhausted, somber. Hernon appears to be sensitive to the mood in the room in the recording.
PAT HERNON: We’ve now moved down into the library of the USS Randall and we are now only minutes away from sailing time, and Elvis Presley will shortly be on his way to Germany and a return to the United States – well, who knows. It will be some time anyway. Elvis, we have just a small group and a few moments to talk about things. I know you’re a pretty tired fella. You’ve had a busy couple of days getting here to the Brooklyn Port and getting ready to leave, haven’t you?
ELVIS PRESLEY: Yes, sir, that’s right.
PAT HERNON: How long has it been, for example, since you’ve had a chance to eat today?
ELVIS PRESLEY: Well, I ate breakfast this morning. I haven’t eaten since.
PAT HERNON: Now it’s almost 2 o’clock in the afternoon.
ELVIS PRESLEY: I don’t feel like I could eat anything right now.
PAT HERNON: Elvis, since we’re so close to sailing time and we’re getting pretty close to the last thoughts you have here in the country before you go overseas to your stint of duty, what do you think about? How do you feel?
Long pause.
ELVIS PRESLEY: Well, uh, I’m going to be very honest about it. I’m looking forward to Germany. I’m looking forward to seeing the country and meeting a lot of the people. But at the same time I’m looking forward to coming back here.
PAT HERNON: As I say we’re getting closer and closer to the time that they’re going to pull that gangplank away and you’ll be on your way. Since this is probably the last chance that you’ll have to say something to your fans, do you have any particular message that you’d like to pass on to them?
ELVIS PRESLEY: Yes, I would. I’d like to say that in spite of the fact that I am going away and that I’ll be …. out of their eyes for some time, I hope that I’m not out of their minds, and I’ll be looking forward to the time that I can come back and entertain again like I did and ….
Long pause.
PAT HERNON: All we can do is wish you a wonderful trip and all the best luck in the world and come home soon.
ELVIS PRESLEY: Thank you very much. I’ll do my very best.
In the racquet ball court at Graceland, taken by me on Elvis’ birthday, Jan. 8, 2012
Happy Veterans Day to all who serve, to all who have served. Off to my local Veterans Day parade. My nieces are marching with their color guard team and my nephews are marching with their Cub Scout troop. Small town life.
Your Lucky Day maybe seems like a pretty standard hostage scenario film, stand-off with police, etc. But it’s really not. It has a POINT and a point of VIEW. I have to hold back on how many times I reference George Orwell, because if I didn’t control it, he’d probably be referenced in 9 out of 10 things I write. But this one I HAD to bring him in. I reviewed for Ebert. I was really impressed with this.
It’s her birthday today. When she died last year, the outpouring of tributes and appreciation was truly heart-warming to see. Here’s what I wrote.
Ann Reinking’s talent was like her performance persona: larger than life, epic in scope, intimidating.
She was a muse who – crucially – didn’t resent being a muse. She owned it. She was one of the few, the mighty, the Amazonian, who understood Bob Fosse’s style implicitly and could carry it: others included Fosse’s wife Gwen Verdon, Shirley MacLaine, Liza Minnelli. But in many ways, Reinking saw her muse-status as a huge responsibility, particularly after Bob Fosse died. She was one of the torch-bearers of his style, his choreography. She made it part of her life’s work to pass on her knowledge.
“People forget that the same man who did Star 80 and All That Jazz also did ‘Pardon Me Miss But I’ve Never Been Kissed.'” — Ann Reinking
Not only did she teach/direct his style, she was eloquent on the IDEAS behind it. If you didn’t understand his ideas and his conceptual understanding of the world – and sex – then his choreography would be closed to you. It’s not enough to do a little pelvic thrust. You have to know what’s BEHIND the pelvic thrust, his particular flaws and interests and inspirations.
“Fosse would say that it’s important to trust silence. He very much liked the use of the tacit, or silent, count, where nothing is happening. He also liked percussion. His is a world of angular movement and mystery, quiet, semi-taciturn and percussive.” — Ann Reinking
In her career post-Fosse, she was there, as a reminder, a coach, a choreographer, a scholar really … to pass on her knowledge to younger generations.
To be a dancer means being obedient to the choreography and also obedient to the generally punishing demands of being a dancer. But Fosse was something else (I wrote a lot about this in his “birthday post”): the demands he made on his dancers were not just physical, but psychological.
His choreography is not fluid. In fact, it’s ANTI-fluid. It involves atomization, dissociation, aggression, with so many strong feelings, yes, but ALL of them have to be repressed. Repression is key. Fosse’s choreography is ANTI-catharsis, and his work is like a cork in the bottle holding back a tidal wave.
“Bob’s work gleaned from hoofing, from vaudeville, from ballet.” — Ann Reinking
My friend Meghan Murphy, a brilliant performer in her own right, said this in the comments thread of my post on Facebook, and I thought it was interesting to get a dancer’s perspective:
I’ve had the privilege of being in many Fosse shows in my life and the greatest/hardest challenge is what my director at the time (who worked with Fosse himself) called “the pressure cooker.” If the move is too big or too free, you blow it too early. The smaller the isolation, the nastier it is. It’s the tension that makes it so damn HOT.
Amazing! And I love how she calls it “nasty”. That’s it, exactly.
Not every dancer could get into his twisted headspace. Empty Fosse moves are not Fosse moves. For Reinking it was natural.
“There’s a lot of heart to Bob’s work that doesn’t always get recognized because of all of the sensuality, dark statements and wit of his work.” — Ann Reinking
But it was not just the dancing that made her so great. Or her LEGS, as awesome as they were. It was about the look in her eyes. The look is not “come hither” and it’s not “stay back”. It’s BOTH, simultaneously. Mixed messages are totally Fosse, and she projects both like a klieglight.
You can see why Bob Fosse was in awe. Why he watched her, thinking, “Yes … yes … that’s JUST what I meant to say.”
And then there’s this scene, from All That Jazz. It is that rarity: a perfect scene. Which does not lessen its impact, no matter how many times I have seen it, and I have probably seen it 300 times.
I saw All That Jazz when I was around the age of Erzsébet Földi in that film. In other words, I saw it way too young, way too young to get all the sexuality in it, although I felt it, and it disturbed me. But it had an enormous impact. I wanted to join that world. I wanted to move to New York. I wanted to take classes in big drafty dance studios. I wanted to be part of show business. I wanted all this young. 11, 12. Much of it can be traced to All That Jazz, and that scene in particular, which transported me somewhere, somewhere really really intense and personal. I didn’t just love it. I YEARNED for it. And … I actually did end up doing those things. This scene was a guiding star.
Let’s not just talk personally. Let’s watch Ann Reinking in that number and just take note of how MUCH she is doing. She is dancing gorgeously. The placement of her legs, the jutting-out of her butt, and how that corresponds to what is happening with her legs – sooo Fosse. But she is also giving an acting performance, and it’s a complex performance. Her lover, the Fosse-alter-ego played by Roy Scheider, has just experienced a crushing career disappointment. His work has been trashed by critics. He is devastated. He is surrounded by women he is fucking, an ex-wife, an ensemble of people who need him, use him, look to him. But at home he has … his main squeeze, played by Reinking, and his daughter, played by Földi. He doesn’t allow people into his inner world. He loves ’em and leaves ’em. But Reinking … she’s inner sanctum. He has broken her heart a couple of times, and she knows he is unfaithful, but she is loyal – but not blindly loyal. She understands him. She forgives him. And she also – most preciously to him – has a good relationship with his daughter. She is the child’s second mother. And you can see all that in how she dances with the child, how she supports her, and coaches her during the dance. The quick kiss on the child’s forehead is a particularly favorite moment. I also love the playfulness here, how they both just romp around, enjoying each other. When Reinking plays the piano on Földi’s upside-down rib cage! And look at how Reinking has made her body into a shape in that moment, and it is an indelible iconic shape: you can look at it and INSTANTLY recognize who choreographed it. At the same time as she is doing ALL THIS, the entire dance has behind it an emotional objective: Let’s cheer up the man we both love! He’s going to need this, let’s make him laugh, let’s take him outside of himself, give him joy, laughter. They succeed. The smile that bursts out on Scheider’s face is filled with a kind of sadness/exuberance that pierces my heart. He allows himself to be swept away, to be encircled by their love of him.
Watch Reinking do all that as she dances brilliantly.
Dan Zanes came to me through my brother Brendan, who got into Zanes’ music when Cashel – my dear nephew Cashel – now a college graduate – !!! – was a small child. For Dan Zanes’ birthday, I wanted to share the piece my brother Brendan wrote about what Dan Zanes meant to him and Cashel.
Dan Zanes is a playah in children’s music, but he’s lived many lives, all of which he brings to bear on the albums he puts out for kids. I was Googling around this morning and came across this fun NPR piece from 2010 about his album 76 Trombones, a compilation of songs from Broadway musicals, geared – of course – towards kids. Cashel loved Dan Zanes and so did my brother. I spent much of quarantine re-posting my brother’s music posts from his old blog, because I loved the writing and diversity of subject so much. Here’s a more recent NPR piece, from this past September! – about his latest album of original songs written by Zanes and his wife Claudia.
This heist-romp was so much fun. I have a soft spot for heist movies. Mélanie Laurent, a wonderful actress, is also an excellent film-maker (I’ve reviewed a couple of her films: Breathe and last year’s The Mad Women’s Ball – I’m really into what she’s all about as a film-maker). Wingwomen is a buddy-comedy-action-adventure, starring Laurent and Adèle Exarchopoulos, with a fabulous cameo by the great Isabelle Adjani, and it’s on Netflix and it’s a lot of fun. Here’s my review.
Look at this gorgeous dissolve from Vincente Minnelli’s The Bad and the Beautiful, a blistering film about Hollywood, power, greed, and – most importantly – the compromises people are willing to make for fame. They’ll trade anything. It’s SO good. And so gorgeously fluidly filmed, with so many great dissolves. This is the first dissolve in the film, coming at about five minutes in.
