Liars and Saints

"If I say I love him, you might think my words come cheap." The ever-neurotic, ever-cerebral Marvin wags his finger at trite sappy love language within his own sappy love song. Form underlines content: "I halt, I stammer," sings Marvin, while actually halting and stammering. Details spell out the extent of his love; he doesn't need to use the actual word; the image of him struggling to hold down breakfast, willing himself to stay calm, fighting to "untie" a tongue--this image does the work. (The "untied tongue" picks up language from earlier in the song, when the love-addled Marvin found himself almost unable to tie a shoe.) The big climax of the song is a metaphor: "Can you tell I have been revised?" Like a late, fresh draft, Marvin is new and improved. The song provides the evidence; we (generally) haven't heard Marvin this quiet, or this reflective, earlier in the show. Overcome with emotion, Marvin cuts himself off; form u...

We're all wondering why "Last Christmas"--among the many, many Christmas-y pop songs available for coverage--would speak to a young Taylor Swift. Would speak so loudly that it would demand--and win--a re-recording and re-release. Aren't we? We are--and I'll explain. And you're welcome. That insipid tune is matched with a killer chorus. I go on a journey. The young woman presents her heart to her lover; it's a Christmas gift. But: the ally is a trickster! The young man *re-gifts* the heart! He gives it away--the very next day . But Taylor rallies: She becomes sadder-but-wiser. By means unexplained, she re-attains her heart, and she swears, this year, to give it "to someone special." Does this plot ring any bells for you? "It's too late for you and your white horse. I might find someone someday who might actually treat me well." "I've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does is break, and burn, and en...

Robert DeNiro actually moved to Sicily *for three months* to learn the Sicilian dialect. Three months! He speaks a grand total of eight English-language words in the course of "The Godfather II." And he is on-screen for around forty minutes. (Al Pacino was maybe less accommodating than DeNiro. Apparently, frustrated by the one-hundred-day shooting schedule of "Godfather II," Pacino went around screaming, "'Serpico' took only nineteen days!" Pacino also threatened to drop out *before* the start of filming, because he wasn't satisfied with an early draft of the script.) -In un-filmed versions, Kay simply had a miscarriage. It was Talia Shire's idea to have Kay get a secret abortion. (And this nicely underlines the duplicitousness theme, within this family: Kay had "a miscarriage." Michael "reconciles" with Fredo. Hyman is "a mentor" to Michael. Carlo is "faithful" to Connie.) As a "reward,...

"I'm Still Here" is a song about survival and abrupt transformations. It's a song about Sally and Phyllis, though it mentions neither woman, and it's sung by a third party. As Carlotta, the speaker, endures reversals of fortune, so Sally and Phyllis make it through a roller-coaster ride in the course of "Follies." They are married; they are single; they are desolate; they are mid-fling; they are abandoned; they are married again. "I got through all of last year--and I'm here." God is in the details. Sondheim announces his theme: "Good times and bum times--I've seen them all and, my dear, I'm still here." Then: he wonders, what might good times look like? "Plush velvet." And bum times (and notice "bum," in place of "bad"; a little local color; God is in the details)--? Bum times are "pretzels and beer." To earn money, and stardom, young Carlotta "stuffed the dailies in my shoes...

The overflowing streets of Little Italy. Fires in garbage cans. Old-timey streetcars. The lowbrow mass entertainment on offer--an operetta in which a man learns of his mother's death, then sings loudly of his plans for suicide.  ("Senza Mamma." We might think of the other mamas in this movie: Connie, berated for spending very little time with her children; Mama Corleone, who, like Vito's mother, will die before the curtain falls; the line directed at Tom Hagen, a command to "bring your wife, mistress, and children.") The circled X on little Vito's coat, at Ellis Island--meant to suggest a possible mental defect. The button-fly trousers, because, in Vito's early years, you would never see pants with a zipper. I'm fascinated by Coppola's little acts of risk-taking. To cast your sister and your daughter--it's dicey and controversial. But it gives the movie a kind of aura of "the personal statement"; it suggests, "this cam...

John Cazale *never* earned an Oscar nomination for a "Godfather" movie. People think this is nonsense. You can hear reverence in the voices of former cast-mates when they talk about Cazale. Who was this guy? Why is he important? He's rare for having appeared *only* in Oscar-nominated films. Both of the first two Godfathers, "The Conversation," "The Deer Hunter," "Dog Day Afternoon." That's his entire resume. His specialty was to portray weakness without judgment. So, for example, in the Godfather movies, he's a total mess--clearly--drunken, too pliable. Cazale doesn't sneer at Fredo at all. And he doesn't pity Fredo, or make Fredo a "type." He's simply a weak person on camera; he's so persuasive, you forget that he's different from the role he's playing. (I'm not sure the same thing is entirely, consistently true of Brando's performance.) Cazale had ensnared Meryl Streep via Shakespeare in...

"Godfather" Nerd Trivia! -Al Pacino was enraged that he was Oscar-nominated in the "Best Supporting Actor" category for "Godfather I." He was enraged because he actually had more screen time than Brando (who *won* Best Lead Actor, for playing Vito). The producers didn't want Brando; they wanted Ernest Borgnine or George C. Scott. Pacino's performance in "Godfather II" is considered among the greatest of all time; he *was* nominated for Best Lead Actor then; he lost, and lost to a shmoe. This bit ranks high among Greatest Oscar Travesties. Here are all the other actors from "Godfather" films who earned Oscar nominations: DeNiro (who actually won), Talia Shire, James Caan, Robert Duvall, Lee Strasberg, Andy Garcia, and Michael Gazzo. -Pacino's eventual Oscar win (for "Scent of a Woman") is considered a "mea culpa" award, not really an award for specific excellence in "Scent of a Woman." (T...

God is in the details. Less is more. These are Sondheim's credos, but they apply equally well to "The Godfather." Look at the opening. Such a vast drama--and yet we start with a closeup on one person. He's someone we'll see for maybe two minutes total, yet he is among the most important characters in the trilogy. He announces Puzo's themes. Two themes, specifically: tribal clashes and violence against women. He has come to America; he has encouraged his daughter to practice Old World Virtuous Behavior. But--anyway--she has been raped. And the American justice system has failed her. The American police have failed her. The Godfather's response is stunning; it's not, "I feel bad for you." Instead, it's: "You chose their tribe over my tribe." A colony within a nation. The thugs of "The Godfather" are both *of* America and *outside* America. The tension within that statement is the driving force of the story. I can...

How does Michael Corleone become Michael Corleone? Through a trip to hell. Barzini has jostled him out of his Ordinary World; now, he is committing murders and fleeing to "the continent." But there's a chance for the old, innocent Michael to prevail; Michael might not need to submerge himself in bitterness and rage for the rest of his life. In Sicily, he meets allies and friends. Ah, Sicily! Rolling hills greet the eye. Little sheep and goats run around. The sun shines through tiny trees. Here, Michael meets The Embodiment of Innocence--Apollonia. (From Apollo- "god of music and healing, god of the sun.") Apollonia is untouched, virginal, a walking version of springtime; in fact, the actress playing her is merely sixteen! In Apollonia's company, Michael can forget about the sordid streets of New York; he can go for frolicsome picnics and country drives. (This section of the movie, in addition to being a pastoral idyll, also functions as a kind of Preston...

"Live, Laugh, Love." This is the big conclusion of the surreal section of "Follies." Each of the characters has had a big number. Phyllis, Sally, and Buddy have all articulated their problems in an incisive way. But Ben does something different. He does a bullshit number. This is a classic Sondheim move--where the words are at odds with the character's real feelings. (See "Send in the Clowns," "The Glamorous Life," "Everybody Loves Louis.") The idea behind "Live, Laugh, Love" is simple. Ben is saying: Many people get caught up in status considerations and silly distractions, but if you ask me, life is just a bowl of cherries. Take it easy. So, in part, the song is a "list song": Like "The Ladies who Lunch," it catalogues all the many ways you could pass the time. (It also makes us think of Cole Porter's "I Get a Kick Out of You." "Some get a kick from cocaine. Some get their kicks...

The movie's great strength is that Lady Bird's nemesis is every bit as eccentric as Lady Bird herself. Lady Bird's mother has the gall to say: "Are you tired? Because we could sit down. Oh, I just thought you're tired because you're dragging your feet." (So true to life! It's as if Gerwig has excavated all of this stuff from her own soul. Within seconds of the mutual bitching, mother and daughter are gaga over a thrift-store dress, and it's as if the tension had never reared its head.) "Maybe the dress is too pink? Oh, you want me to lie? OK! I'll lie, I guess." "At that public high school, your brother saw a child KNIFED IN FRONT OF HIS CLASS." (A story repeated so often we begin to wonder if it's true, if it fills some deep, weird psychological need for the mother.) Amidst all this, Gerwig has the brains to show the mother's greatness--the way she cares for her colleagues, the way she takes in her son's girlfr...

"Walking and Talking." Anne Heche finds herself engaged and lusting after men who aren't her fiancee. She is a therapist, and she silently, mentally undresses her patients throughout their sessions. A fight erupts between Heche and her fiancee--perhaps about Heche's roving eye--and the fiancee almost manages to repair things. He makes a crucial misstep; he presents to Heche, as a gift, a tiny box in which there's a biopsied mole. Heche had always been nagging him: "Get your mole removed!" The gift doesn't go over well--this movie is all about gifts failing to "land well"--and again the engagement is off. Tiny insights about relationships abound. Liev Schrieber says to Catherine Keener: "I broke up with you because you had made me too important. You didn't have a life, or wants, of your own." Schrieber explains how he's breaking things off with a woman with whom he has--strictly--phone sex; even such an odd, indirect r...

Does "Scream" *work* entirely? No. Is the ending as strong as the beginning? No. But here's why--nonetheless--I love this movie. 1. Kevin Williamson. He was sitting around, flailing. "Teaching Mrs. Tingle" was in "development hell." He began to read about a real-life serial killer--the Gainesville Ripper--and suddenly an idea began to form. He would write the kind of movie he enjoyed in childhood. It would be like "Nightmare on Elm Street" or "Halloween." The script he produced was so strong, it attracted big-league stars, e.g. Barrymore and Cox. That was sort of unprecedented for a slasher flick, in the era of "Scream." (Williamson went on to write "I Know what You Did Last Summer." Regardless of the quality of the movie itself, the title is among the best in film history. So tense and evocative--like a little poem! It points to secrets and lies--pay-dirt for any writer. Williamson of course also went on to ...

Let's take "Lucy X and Jessie Y" moment by moment. The first line is telling. Sondheim wants to make a pastiche or parody of Cole Porter. Porter had a habit of writing blithely--"insouciantly"--abou t miserable women. A jaunty tune would contrast, unnervingly, with bleak lyrics. "My story is much too sad to be told, but practically everything leaves me totally cold." "I'm a toy balloon that's fated soon to pop. But if, baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top." So we're thrown off guard by Phyllis's cheery: "Here's a little story that should make you cry about two unhappy dames!" Then there's the plot of the song. A big reason that Sondheim has such potency--and such universal appeal--is that he writes about ambivalence. Ambivalence is the human condition; it's what we all experience, on a daily basis. In youth, Phyllis may have enjoyed her juiciness but longed for worldly wisdom. In wise midd...