"Man of Steel" review

Too much steel, not enough man.

When the original “Superman” film came out in theaters I was eight years old.  Aside from “Star Wars”, it is one of the most treasured movie-going experiences of my youth.  When my parents and I left the theater, I was so overcome with what I had experienced that I looked up into the night sky.  Over one of the government buildings an American flag was fluttering in the spotlight.  My fleeting glimpse combined with the potency of my childhood imagination transformed that flag for a second into a red cape, and for the briefest of moments, I thought Superman was real.  I believed.  Since that day, I have been patiently waiting for another cinematic hero to sweep me off my feet and fill me with the same hope, excitement and joy that I experienced as a child.

Adulthood brings a lot of changes, and one of the biggest is the loss of innocence.  Despite all the ugliness and cruelty in the world, I still want to believe in something pure, someone like Superman who evokes the warm glow of old-fashioned, aw-shucks Americana. Unfortunately, "Man of Steel" has almost none of this.  The film is cold and grim, and nearly bereft of nostalgia.  My worry over the choice of Zack Snyder as the director was confirmed.  I've seen most of Snyder's previous films, and haven’t enjoyed any of them except for his 2004 remake of “Dawn of the Dead.”  His visual style fit that film perfectly as the shaky cam and frenetic pacing were appropriate for a zombiepocalypse.  Yet this chaotic and grim aesthetic is present through all of his succeeding works and it doesn't fit a Superman movie at all. There are also other major problems.

Superman is a difficult character to update because he is a creation so emblematic of his time.  Though Superman is a child of the thirties, he grew to maturity in the forties and fifties, when American culture was at its apex of confidence and dominance.  The nostalgic aura is what gives Superman his primary emotional and psychological attraction, and this key component is evoked beautifully in a very insightful scene from Joss Whedon's “The Avengers.”  S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Phil Coulson and Steve Rogers (Captain America) are having a conversation about Captain America’s costume.  Cap thinks that his WW II-era outfit might be a little old-fashioned.  Coulson counters by saying:  “With everything’s that’s happening right now and everything that’s going to happen, I think people could use a little old-fashioned.”  I thought of this sentiment often while watching “Man of Steel" because it does very little to evoke the Superman of old.

The scenes of Superman’s boyhood in Kansas are the only ones that provide any emotional connection.  The shaky cam is finally set on a tripod and the characters are given a chance to interact.  However, the fractured nature of the editing between the past and the present breaks up the necessity of showing us how and why Superman grows up to be the personification of truth and justice.  Superman is a simple character, and his story should be told in a simple fashion.  These flashbacks provide brief pauses of warmth, but they are too few to carry us through the headache-inducing barrage of CGI mayhem that comprises the entire third act.

Superman and his enemies beat the crap out of each other for extended periods, but it's nearly impossible to understand what's going on because the editing is so accelerated that the action becomes incomprehensible.  The collateral damage done by the combatants topples multiple skyscrapers, and I was shocked to see so many human casualties ignored.  One of the more clever scenarios in "Superman II" was when the villians discover that Superman actually cares for humans and use this knowledge against him.  In "Man of Steel", Superman is oblivious to the wanton destruction occurring around him, and I couldn't believe that he would allow, much less contribute to such massive loss of life.

   

The original “Superman” film did not try to beat the audience into submission.  It quietly seduced us because it had charm to spare.  It wasn’t just the acting talents of Christopher Reeve and the good-natured yet cheesy atmosphere.  It was that the filmmakers understood the character of Superman.  They knew that he was a farm boy from Kansas who wanted to express his gratitude for having a new world to call home by doing all he could to make it a better place.  Superman had no angst, he never doubted himself, and always knew that what he was doing was right.  Superman never worried whether people would like him; he saved them and let the love come naturally.  Even though he was the Man of Steel, inside him beat the altruistic heart of all of us.

"Jazz Icons - Dizzy Gillespie - Live in '58 and '70" review

After being mesmerized by the incomparable Ella Fitzgerald DVD in this same series, we returned to our local library to see if more musical treasures were waiting for us.  In a funny role-reversal, even though the database said that the discs were available, I was having difficulty locating them.  Then a former client from my video store turned the tables and helped me find the right section!  The other three DVD’s in the Jazz Icons series were grouped together and we rented them all.  We started with Dizzy Gillespie, and even though jazz is a genre of music I’ve yet to dive into, I was slowly and surely captivated by the immense creativity that I saw and heard.

Like the Ella Fitzgerald DVD, this disc also has two concerts which are separated by enough time to see the evolution of the performer.  The first performance by Dizzy was recorded in Belgium in 1958.  All the band members sport sharp tuxedos as one would expect from this era.  While I was not familiar with any of the songs, the depth of talent on the part of every performer was phenomenal.  What I found most interesting was that even though Dizzy Gillespie is clearly the front man, sax player Sonny Stitt seems to get more solo time throughout the show.  It was a magnanimous move on Dizzy’s part to let his other band members have so much time in the spotlight, and it showed how confident and humble Dizzy was.  The songs built on each other, each one more complex and chaotic than the last, while never losing the textural thread of the particular piece.  Sonny Stitt’s solos were amazing!

The second concert in Denmark in 1970 marks a radical change.  Of course, over ten years have passed and much social and political upheaval has occurred.  Dizzy has grown an afro to compliment his soul patch.  The tuxedos have vanished, and each band member is now dressed in their own particular style.  The effect of the Love Generation on clothes is evident.  While the music is still very much the same in some ways, the effect of the times upon Dizzy is so clear in the emotional tone of his performance.  The second song, “The Brother K”, written for Martin Luther King Jr., was when my first “moment” happened.  I suddenly felt the song filling me up as I was awestruck at the intense outpouring of so many deep and intense emotional chords.

King had been assassinated just two years before, and the fires of change born in the sixties youth culture were being slowly extinguished.  The next generation inherited a pile of ashes, and the seventies became a decade thoroughly suffused with a bitter atmosphere of cynicism and regret.  In “The Brother K”, Dizzy composes a beautiful yet heartbreaking distillation of so much promise unfulfilled and so much loss not yet acknowledged that it made my heart ache.  Even though I had not lived in those times, he poured forth such a heady draught of pure emotion that blew me away with the gentle ferocity of his expression.  I could feel the pain and the suffering of all those who struggled in those tumultuous times.  It was time travel accomplished with music.

The songs that followed built on this principle, and each one brought me to another place.  Some felt familiar, some were lively and Latin, some were new and I was again amazed at Dizzy’s ability to present so much emotional content with such an economy of performance.  The marked difference between the two concerts is found not only in the dress and the relationship of the band to the audience, but in the goal of the performances.  In the first concert the band is there purely to entertain.  Much time had passed when the second concert was recorded, and Dizzy had grown so much that he had a new, more important goal: to communicate.

Dizzy wanted the audience to feel what he felt, to take a journey with him through the past so that the future could be a better place.  There was no stage separating the band from the crowd.  In fact, Dizzy had a charming interaction with a parent with a small child, and the intimacy created in this moment would have been impossible with a barrier like a stage between them.  Dizzy wanted to connect with his audience, and he did so in such an earnest and honorable fashion that I’ve now created a Pandora channel for him so that he can continue to speak to me.

"The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour – Best of Season 3" review

Another find on the local library shelves to which I was also looking forward with great anticipation.  I’d heard of the Smothers Brothers for years, but had never seen their famous TV show.  I knew that my wife (who is a bit older than me) would remember it from her childhood.  However, I was not even born when the show originally aired, and it’s not something that you can easily find on cable, much less regular broadcast.  This particular DVD set is not a complete collection of the entire third season, but rather a selection of episodes chosen specifically by the brothers themselves.  I was excited to take a trip back in time to a place I had never been, but unfortunately for me, this journey, while being interesting historically, musically and politically, did not provide much entertainment value.

In this case, I felt that I was unable to appreciate the value of what the show managed to accomplish because the sixties were not my generation.  I wasn’t there to see the fervent deconstruction of political, social and sexual conventions.  My mind was not suddenly expanded by the new attitudes and topics in music, politics, social mores and the burgeoning drug scene. I wasn’t there to feel the winds of change ruffling my long hair or to smell the familiar sweet smoke wafting through the air during an outdoor concert in the park.  I was not galvanized by the propulsive desire to end the war and try to bring peace to the world.  It must have been an amazing time!

However, a significant portion of the populace was not ready for such radical ideas and changes.  They did not look kindly upon the criticisms and mockery directed so vehemently at their old-fashioned way of life.  In particular, those who walked the corridors of power in politics and other institutions did their level best to deter, dissuade and destroy the growing movement of young people dedicated to transforming American society.  Control and censorship were exercised with heavy hands whenever and wherever possible, and the Smother Brothers Comedy Hour was not an exception.  Even though Tom and Dick were very sympathetic to the changin’ times, they were not allowed by CBS to speak their minds fully, even on a television show which carried their name.  Aside from a few sparks of rebellion, the cold hand of conservative power cast a chill over the proceedings.

We watched three episodes before my interest bottomed out.  While I could appreciate the historical importance of watching Tom and Dick use every trick that they could to slip things by the censors, the sense of omnipotent oppression lurking just off-screen taints even the good-natured and silly sketches.  You can feel the Brothers trying their best to be funny, irreverent and topical, yet you know that they are not being allowed to bring their particular perspectives, attitudes and opinions to the forefront.  The culture clash between old and new was still so fresh, so raw and at times so painful that it ceases to be interesting or entertaining and instead makes you feel as if you’ve suddenly stumbled into the middle of a heated political debate at what you thought was supposed to be a fun and relaxing family gathering.  It just feels so awkward.

There were a few moments, such as the performances by The Doors, where the safe atmosphere was expunged so powerfully and with such bravado that I was immediately captivated by the mind-reeling mix of freedom, chaos and orgasm.  Jim Morrison’s persona, even in so staid an environment, radiates potent sexual power and confidence.  He dares you to look into his eyes and maintain contact.  The psychological challenge that Morrison directs at the audience with his thousand-yard stare burns through the camera lens like the heat of the sun on a sweltering summer day.  It is palpable, seductive and totally alluring.  The Doors performed “Touch Me” and “Wild Child”, two songs which are both heavily laced with the surging feelings of sex, anarchy and reinvention which were sweeping through young hearts and minds everywhere.  The Doors howled out all the emotion, rage and conflict of a new youth culture trying to find its own way while at the same time angrily defining itself against the perceived safety and conformity of previous generations.  It was hot, nasty and true.  

The Smothers Brothers are to be heartily commended for having such musical guests on their show.  Mama Cass, Harry Belafonte, the First Edition and the West Coast cast of “Hair” attempt to add further cultural relevancy, and their performances in general are appealing and entertaining.  However, they feel, even at this time, dated and passé.  The Doors walked in and threw down the gauntlet of the sexual revolution with the confidence of a lover who has been around the block and is ready to take the uninitiated on a whirlwind tour of pleasures unknown and vistas unseen.  I guess you can tell that I like The Doors!  Well, out of all the musical numbers we watched, theirs had lost not one iota of its immediacy, relevance and hip-swivelin’ appeal.  The songs and their meaning are just as applicable now as they were then.  These timeless qualities in The Doors’ music and lyrics have ensured that future generations will continue to discover them.  At the same time, I hope that in the process, we learn how and why they came about, and give thanks to the brave people who made it possible for their message of love, hope and renewal to reach every corner of the globe.

"Jazz Icons: Ella Fitzgerald – Live in ’57 and ‘63" review

DVD Review

Jazz Icons: Ella Fitzgerald – Live in ’57 and ‘63

Oh my goodness!  What a pleasant surprise to find this gem on the shelves of the local library.  My wife is a huge Frank Sinatra fan, and our relationship provided the entry point for me into the superb songbooks and singers from the 40’s and 50’s.  Frank was a great admirer of Ella Fitzgerald, and they performed together many times.  Aside from her precise pitch control and phrasing, Ella is most famous for her superlative ability at scat singing.  This involves the singer making on-the-spot vocal and tonal improvisations around the melody of a song, and Ella was one of the undisputed virtuoso's.  Although she only does it on a few songs from each concert, anyone with an appreciation for music and vocals should find their jaw hitting the floor when Ella takes off!

The DVD contains two concerts, both of which are exemplary displays of Ella’s talents.  What makes them more special is that they are both complete performances, not a pastiche across different times and places.  This allows the viewer the pleasure of being able to feel more connected to the event and the singer, and I believe it also creates a greater appreciation for the varied talents of “The First Lady of Song.”  The first performance was recorded in Belgium in 1957 and is the more relaxed and joyous of the two as Ella has a packed theater for which to perform.  You can see how the positive energy of the crowd’s applause fills her with delight as she dances from one tune to the next with the greatest of ease.  Ella is backed by a superb band, all of whom are also clearly enjoying the hell out of themselves.  Ella swings her way effortlessly through a varied list of known and lesser-known songs (at least, to my neophyte’s knowledge) and her energy, enthusiasm and joy in performance are wondrous to behold.  I believe that a true master will always make the hardest tasks seem effortless, and Ella is incomparable at making her scintillating singing look as easy as breathing.

The second concert was recorded in a studio in Sweden in 1963.  Again Ella has a fantastic band, but we’re never shown the studio audience.  It’s not that I mind, as crowd shots can be distracting, but it does make the performance space feel a bit lonelier as it seems to be just Ella and the band performing alone.  However, her talents are peerless, and once again she shows them to full effect.  The picture on this concert is a bit sharper, but both shows have excellent audio, especially given their age and the technology used at the time.  What I appreciated most about this DVD was that it provides a very necessary example of real singing.  Today, you don’t even have to be able to hold a note to become a star, as Autotune has made celebrity possible for anyone with a model’s face and a willingness to be exploited, even if their actual talents couldn’t provide enough energy to power a light bulb. 

Young people of today, take note!  *rimshot*  The vast majority of today’s music (at least what dominates the radio) is computer whitewashed drivel made by robots for robots.  It is soulless, pre-packaged background noise designed to keep you distracted.  Study your musical history.  Listen to the work of these great artists who are so rightly revered and hopefully you will understand why they are held in such high regard.  Their kind of talent cannot be emulated, copied or reproduced.  It has to be discovered, developed and encouraged.  Somewhere out there is someone with the raw talent and skills to be the next great vocalist of our time.  So unplug your iPod and turn on your record player.  Find a local music store with employees who are in their golden years.  They will happily lead you down a path to the greatest music you’ve probably ever heard, and Ella Fitzgerald is a damned good place to start!