Mysteries Abysmal

RIP, Ingmar

There hasn't been much Ingmar Bergman talk on this blog, which is too bad because he's dyno-mite all around. I guess you know that. I don't remember it very well, but there was a documentary called Ingmar Bergman Makes a Movie from a few years back.  Up and close interviews showed the aging director to be quite a vicious and deeply troubled man.  In one anecdote, he confided how he once seriously considered murdering a critic who had panned one of his films.  He wasn't joking either and the moment grew pretty heavy and uncomfortable. He'll be missed.

If you want to appreciate Ing-amar's skills, you should rent those two laughless, Bergman-inspired Woody Allen films that were set in those claustrophobic Hamptons beach homes.  Interiors has its moments for sure, but September is unforgivably rotten.  Amazing he got himself together just a few years later and made the flawless Crimes and Misdemeanors.  With those two subpar films, Bergman's genius was never more apparent.

*update: Roger Ebert has a fantastic obit.

Dichterliebe and such

Thursday night I went to the Martin Theater and caught a thoroughly entertaining lieder recital.  Relatively unknown Austrian tenor Nikolai Schukoff was in the house accompanied on piano by the old-world Christoph Eschenbach.  Schukoff's new to the American scene and I think he's got the stage fire, looks and pipes to be an international player.  As a piano guy myself, though, I kept thinking how great it would be to see Eschenbach in a solo recital--he's indestructable up there.  And as my review alludes to, I hafta apologize for the cheap swipes at the Gordon Lightfoots and Harry Chapins of the world.  And the Domingos. 

Dusty dreams

With all moving days, it's always a surprise to uncover what we forgot we owned.  Back in a bit when I get internet service at the new place. 

Cinema undone

Here's one for your Netflix queue: The Corndog Man (1999), dir. Andrew Shea.  Came upon this gem in '03 and can't believe I haven't mentioned it on here.  It's one of a handful movies that's literally impossible to turn off, even with subsequent viewings.  Right 'off a bat' the oddities begin to pile up.  Redneck boat seller Ace Barker gets a strange phone call one morning from a voice claiming interest in purchasing a boat.  A few minutes later he gets another call and the exchange gets a little weirder. Then he gets another call.  And another one.  And so forth for the remainder of the film.  What's it all leading to? Some pretty shocking material, that's what. The film's highest point is a scene where the anonymous caller puts Paul Butterfield's "It all comes back" on the record player, which uses music in ways that would make Wes Anderson envious. It's also a great big sin Noble Willingham's role as the bullheaded South Carolinan bigot remains unnoticed, and probably will forever.  I see these great movies which look like they were made for about $50 and it's all so inspiring.  Do me a favor and see it, and tell them Abysmal sent you.    

Deadlines

This evening concert reviewing can be trying at times, as this newbie-to-the-biz is finding out.  The Ravinia shows are most challenging, since the hour commute home usually lands me in my desk after midnight.  I can only write for a few hours before I have to hit the pillow, and then it's due when I wake up.  It's difficult to evaluate a performance without really letting it soak in, so I tend to be guarded in my judgments. Lang Lang--the Elvis of classical pianists right now--performed Tuesday night and I covered it for the Sun-Times.

This was my first real critical dilemma: here was a fairly innocuous spectacle--driven mostly by bad programming--that elicited an exuberant reaction I haven't seen before.  It was impossible not to be wowed, but kitsch was definitely at work here.  The awful "Yellow River Concerto" by Xian Xinghai was the principle crowd pleaser.  The concerto divides into short 5-minute movements each containing undeveloped and unnecessarily tragic climaxes. How can such emotion surface so soon? There was very little Chinese personality in the music at all (think Adinsell's patchwork Warsaw Concerto), yet you could overhear North Shore socialites murmuring "Dan, we must get more Chinese music!" It's hard to be critical when the thousands around you are so pleased. 

So in my wee-hour haze back home, I chickened out and let my politeness overcome me.  Because of it, my editor penned a fantastic but misleading Boogie Nights' inspired headline.  Anyways, Lang Lang is set for life and his incredible virtuosity will take him anywhere in the world. This article is me trying my diplomatic best when I didn't have to be. 

Noir phase, again

Like clockwork, I get into these old crime dramas every two years or so.  Four years ago Night of the Hunter set off a string of mediocre video rentals and in 2005 Laura got me going on another batch of forgettable noirs.  This time it's the outstanding Chandler adaptation Murder, My Sweet starring Dick Powell.  I can think of no Philip Marlowe quip as slick as this one: "She was a charming middle aged lady with a face like a bucket of mud."

Harvard at 60

Let me introduce you all to my aunt Ann, who is packing up from her comfortable life in Minneapolis to enroll at Harvard later this summer. Her brand spankin' new blog will document the experiences and I imagine it will be fairly inspiring to those seeking career changes.  I know few people with Ann's intellectual restlesness and strong humane convictions, so you know the entries will at least be entertaining.  Once she moves in to her Cambridge digs, I will be referring to her blog much more.  Stay tuned. 

Blog shout-out

I've been reading Paul Berger's blog, Englishman in New York, for several months now.  He's a freelancer for the New York Times and about every other publication on the east coast. The blog is non-music, but touches on just about everything else (unfortunately English "sport" updates included :)  He's funny, posts some spectacular photos, and brings a newbie's perspective of life in NYC. The only problem is he updates his site about as regularly as me. 

Two nights at Ravinia

The buzz across the park last weekend was the CSO and Ravinia debuts of Zemlinksy's "Lyric Symphony," but Cyber Classical beat them to it.

edited: I took out a few humdrum lines about the state of classical music and young people; I think the second picture speaks for itself.  Even large segments of the aging boomer generation seem to be staying away

Christmas in July

 

The Gene Siskel Film Center is showing 9 of Lynch's films on the big screen this month (No Eraserhead, though).  As of now, I'm planning a Friday the 13th viewing of Wild at Heart, which is the only film of his I haven't been able to get through.