FILM REVIEW: GOTTFRIED HELNWEIN AND THE DREAMING CHILD

A scene from Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child.

What is a kid suppose to do?

By Miranda Inganni

Near the beginning of Lisa Kirk Colburn’s documentary, Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child, Austrian-born artist Gottfried Helnwein states that there is far too much child abuse in the world. He emphasizes that child abuse includes child labor. This point becomes relevant later on in the film when we learn that Helnwein feels strongly that an actual child should play the titular character in the Israeli Opera’s 2010 production of the opera, The Child Dream, for which Helnwein is the production designer. Unfortunately for Helnwein, there are pesky rules and regulations regarding child labor in Israel which prevent him from being able to take advantage of the very thing he rails against.

Feeling more like the “extras” you would get on a DVD, Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child is missing focus and the foundation of basic story telling: a beginning, middle and an ending. We see Helnwein at work in his studio (he lives in Los Angeles, CA and in Ireland) on his photo-realistic paintings of children (often depicted as bloodied and/or ghostly white), describing what life was like for him growing up in post-World War II Austria and slopping blood-red paint on the costumes of some of the (allowed children) actresses in The Child Dream. Additionally, there are interviews with various Israeli Opera members, The Child Dream’s director Omri Nitzan and the opera’s composer Gil Shohat. While Colburn’s film never reveals what the opera is actually about (it is based on the play of the same name by Hanoch Levin), we do learn that almost everyone involved was excited to have Helnwein join the crew.

Branding himself as I-don’t-know-what exactly, Helnwein wears sunglasses through the film and his creative process (how does this not impinge on his ability to see light and darkness as those without light-dimming glasses?), all-black clothing and brow-banishing bandanas. I can’t help but wonder if he is more concerned about presenting a certain image than he is about his work as an artist. He explains that children represent innocence and the betrayal of that innocence -- this theme is repeated in his work –--and is what he (and others) believes the opera is about.

Rather than look at the seemingly contradicatory work of Helnwein's art, Colburn’s film is a homage to Helnwein and while the documentary doesn’t necessarily raise questions, disappointingly, it doesn’t answer any that the average viewer might be inclined to ask.

 

 

THEATER REVIEW: MADAME BUTTERFLY

A scene from Madame Butterfly.

On the wings of lust

By Ed Rampell

Giacomo Puccini’s 1904 Madame Butterfly is among the most beloved operas of all time, and rightfully so. From our 21^stcentury “post-racial” (as if!) perch it’s easy to get up on our high horses and dismiss this early stab (no pun intended) at depicting interracial romance as being stereotypical, even racist. For instance, in commentary accompanying a Turner Classic Movies screening of Son of the Gods, Robert Osborne criticized this 1930 pre-Code film about racism -- sexual and otherwise -- against Asians in America as “cringe-worthy” and “creaky.” The usually circumspect Osborne went on to disparage D.W. Griffith’s 1919 classic Broken Blossoms, which was actually a plea for understanding and tolerance that likewise starred Richard Barthelmess.

In the same vein some may deride Ukrainian soprano Oksana Dyka’s turn as the title character in Madame Butterfly as “Yellowface” -- a white person impersonating a character of Asian ancestry through cosmetics, costuming, mannerisms, etc., which is also true for other “Oriental” roles performed by Caucasians in this production. Perhaps. Racism is certainly America’s original sin and disg-race-ful, and should always be exposed, wherever it rears its proverbially ugly head. But at the same time, in hindsight, we must not throw out the baby with the bathwater. Griffith richly deserved to be protested and picketed for his vile racism in 1915’s The Birth of a Nation, but his subsequent Broken Blossoms, like his 1916 masterpiece, Intolerance, are motion picture pleas against man’s inhumanity to man, and can be viewed as attempts to make up for the harm he did with his racially despicable Civil War epic. Again, I don’t mean for a second to excuse racism and stereotyping, but I am arguing that we must view works of art within the context of their times. Having said all that --

Meanwhile, back at the review:

The splendid first act of Madame Butterfly ranks with the very best work in all of the L.A. Opera productions I’ve covered. Michael Yeargan’s scenery and costuming are evocative of turn of the last century Japan. The libretto by Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica quickly reveals B.F. Pinkerton’s (Montana-born tenor Brandon Jovanovich) perfidy and opportunistic streak, as he likens the 99-year lease on his home -- which he has a monthly annullment option -- to his marital vows to eponymous character, Cio-Cio-San. Like the shoji panels at his hilltop house overlooking the harbor, he views his marriage -- arranged by matrimonial broker Goro (Manila-born tenor Rodell Rosel) -- as sliding, lasting only during his brief Naval deployment to Japan, until he makes “real” nuptials with, shall we say, “one of his own kind.” 

The thoughtless Pinkerton confides his treachery to U.S. Consul Sharpless (Philadelphia-born bass baritone Eric Owens -- and BTW, since we’re discussing race specific casting, would the U.S. diplomatic corps have had an African American represent U.S. interests overseas in 1904?).

The unfortunate Cio-Cio-San has had to support herself and her family since her father’s hara-kiri death (her revealing of the blade that did the suicidal deed early in Act I foreshadows what is to happen) by becoming a geisha. Pinkerton is clearly smitten by the charming Cio-Cio-San, and likens the kimono-clad beauty to art, flowers and insects; she refers to herself as a “goddess.” It never seems to occur to either of them (in particular to Pinkerton) that this “Butterfly” is merely human, a flesh and blood being with heart, soul and psyche. Indeed, it turns out Cio-Cio-San is only 15 years old, so by today’s standards, Pinkerton is arguably a child molester, if not a child rapist.

Cio-Cio-San is described as having profound feelings for her white “husband”; perhaps because of her father’s fate, and the limited options available to a young lady in early 20^th century Japan, she seeks to escape social restrictions by “marrying” an American and elevating her status. Cio-Cio-San turns her back on her ancestral religion, incurring the wrath of the Bonze (New York-born bass Stefan Szkafarowsky), who disrupts her “wedding” ceremony, and casts a sort of fatwa upon the two star crossed lovers.

Nevertheless, afterward, when its bedtime without Bonze, lighting designer Stephen Strawbridge illumines the lovers’ marital bed with the constellations in a dazzlingly romantic expression of their passion. The scene captures what, to paraphrase Spike Lee, could be called “bamboo fever,” as East meets West in sexual bliss.

But alas, as Rudyard Kipling put it, “never the twain shall meet.” Act II greatly encapsulates the action, as Pinkerton ships out, leaving behind Cio-Cio-San and, unbeknownst to Pinkerton, a love child. And unbeknownst to Butterfly, her American has flitted away and wed a fellow Yankee Doodle Dandy. As Butterfly pines away for her feckless gaijin (Caucasian), she sings the breathtakingly beautiful aria "Un bel di" ("One Fine Day"), which Dyka delivers flawlessly and movingly (even if it may be politically incorrect for a Ukrainian to portray an Asian, and anatomically incorrect for a hefty 34 year old to depict a slender teen). Well, when that not so mighty fine day does arrive -- and with it, Mrs. Pinkerton -- let’s just say it’s “ciao,” Cio-Cio-San.

What was Puccini getting at 108 years ago? Madame Butterfly is much more than a mere Mikado minstrel show. (Indeed, from 1915 to 1920 Japanese opera singer Tamaki Miura played the part in America and Europe.) Pinkerton’s rank is relatively low; he’s only a lieutenant, after all. It’s as if the color of his skin and racial pedigree was such that it bestowed a social status that outshone that of another suitor, the wealthy aristocrat Prince Yamadori (Korean-born baritone Museop Kim), who tries to woo Butterfly while her unfaithful “husband” sails the seven seas. His American-ness seems to be the allure for the outcast geisha Cio-Cio-San, who has been spurned by her own people and their cultural codes. Madame Butterfly is subject to interpretation, but I suspect Puccini, who so sympathized with countercultural artistes in La Boheme and political prisoners in Tosca, was criticizing racial intolerance, and not interracial love.

Ron Daniels ably directs the production which has some complex mass scenes, and Grant Gershon wields his baton with all the finesse of a musical samurai, conducting Puccini’s effervescent score.


Madame Butterfly runs through Dec. 9 at LA Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave. For more info: (213)972-8001; www.laopera.com.

 

THEATER REVIEW: FAITH

A scene from Faith.

Belief in the future

By Ed Rampell

Faith is the first part of playwright Evelina Fernandez’s Mexican Trilogy, although it’s the final installment to be produced in her three generational saga that follows the Garcia family, who migrated North of the border to, among other things, avoid the upheaval of the Mexican Revolution. The Latino Theater Company already presented parts II and III, Hope and Charity, last June and in 2011, and Faith continues the thread with much the same plot elements and themes.

As strangers in a strange land the Garcias struggle to survive in El Norte. The play opens in an Arizona mining town, with the Garcias leading a hardscrabble existence as members of a minority group who alternately try to adjust, fit in and maintain their roots. Perpetuating a sense of ethnic identity in an unbroken chain of ancestry persists as one of Fernandez’s primary preoccupations. Are the three U.S.-born daughters -- the eponymous Faith (Esperanza America), Charity (Alexis de la Rocha) and Elena (Olivia Delgado) -- Americans or Mexicans? Or something else, a hybrid, Chicanos?

The popular music in the trilogy’s other installments is back to liven things up and express underlying moods and notions. So is a significant world historical figure who looms large in the background, here in the personage of a Pres. Roosevelt heard via fireside chats on the radio. The playwright’s antiwar obsession returns too, as WWII sweeps the land and Freddie (Matias Ponce, who in a double role also plays a Priest) questions military service. Many may consider it heresy to doubt the so-called “good fight,” but Fernandez, who is nothing if not a writer of deep convictions, remains true to her pacifistic creed.

Speaking about Fernandez, she is cast against type as the lovelorn Lupe; in real life Evelina is far more attractive than her character, and kudos to her for glamming herself down for the plain Jane (or Juanita?) role. As an amiga of the Garcias, Lupe tries to mitigate the ironfisted rule over the household by Esperanza (Lucy Rodriguez). In one of the play’s several plot twists, it turns out Esperanza’s trying to prevent her daughters from repeating her own youthful indiscretions, but in the process, the overbearing parent forces them over the edge instead. Despite the biblical titles of Fernandez’s trilogy, she continues to wage her own holy war with Mother Church’s repression in Faith.

The local Latino radio celeb Ricardo Flores, aka “Ricky Flowers” (Geoffrey Rivas), has a surprise of his own. Xavi Moreno as the bumbling wannabe suitor and less than brave Charlie provides comic relief in a play that suffers from too many fart jokes.

The real standout of the ensemble cast, which is imaginatively directed by Jose Luis Valenzuela, is Sal Lopez, that stalwart of stage and screen who has appeared in movies such as Stanley Kubrick’s anti-Vietnam classic Full Metal Jacket. Talk about plot twists and turns: As Lupe’s husband Silvestre, he’s full of New Deal fervor, trying to organize Latino miners to receive equal pay for equal work. Instead of using economic arguments, Silvestre advances moral reasons to make his case to his fellow workers. Once his surprising back story is revealed, auds understand why. It seems that the Christianity Fernandez abides by is that of Liberation Theology. In any case, bravo Mr. Lopez, for bringing to life one of the best Latino characters since that 1950s classic with its similarly biblical title, Salt of the Earth.

The direction of Faith is up to Valenzuela’s habitual excellence -- even more so. With the help of scenic and lighting director Cameron Mock Valenzuela makes creative use of LATC’s rather large downstairs Theatre 3’s extensive space, staging the action on multi-levels. Which is only appropriate, as Faithis a multi-dimensional work.

Faith can be a standalone work; one need not have necessarily seen Hope and Charity to enjoy it, although having done so will enhance a fuller understanding of this Latino triptych. For those who did, like this head scratching reviewer, it is however frankly disjointing to have seen the plays out of order, which makes it hard to follow the peregrinations of the characters as they search for the Promised Land in los Estados Unidos. Hopefully, some producer and/or entity will have the faith to present the trilogy in chronological order. BTW, this would not be an act of charity, as such an undertaking is sure to be a surefire hit. Another suggestion is that the multi-talented Fernandez set her hand at writing a musical with original music composed specifically for such a work. Who knows? Evelina just might add “lyricist” to her job title.

In any case, this is the last week theatre-lovers can take an act of Faith at the LATC -- at least for the time being.


Faith runs through Nov. 11 in Theatre 3 of the Los Angeles Theatre Centre, 514 S. Spring St., CA 90013. For more info: 866/811-4111; www.thelatc.org.

 

AFI 2012: THE CENTRAL PARK FIVE

A scene from The Central Park Five

Burns, New York, Burns

By Ed Rampell

In the nonfiction films of Ken Burns, from The Civil War to The Central Park Five, race is a recurring theme, . The latter is the latest and perhaps most contemporary of the history obsessed filmmaker, and it is all about race and racism. As a “Native” New Yorker, of course I was aware of 1989’s Central Park Jogger case, wherein five Black and Latino teens were charged with being part of a “wolf pack” that went on a “wilding” rampage -- as the racist media put it -- brutally assaulting and gang raping a white woman jogging in the Park. The quintet of Harlem teenagers were convicted and served prison time.

Although I moved from N.Y. decades ago, I visited from time to time and stayed in touch with City residents, but somehow I never knew about what eventually happened regarding this case and to the five Harlemites, who are now grown men. Leave it to Ken Burns, America’s TV documentarian par excellence, to bring us up to date with the startling revelations regarding what reallyhappened and what the Central Park Five are currently up to. It’s genuinely astonishing and horrifying. The outcome is one of the worst examples of the press burying, instead of reporting, the news. While the front page stories about rape and mayhem were front page news, subsequent events are submerged on page 12 -- if at all.

Leave it to Burns and his co-creators, David McMahon and Sarah Burns, to exhume this riveting story with a riveting feature length documentary that will have viewers sitting on the edges of their seats, filled with outrage and unable to take their reddened eyes off of the screen. After watching this must see movie, audiences may join the young Rev. Al Sharpton in chanting: “No justice, no peace!” Hopefully, Burns’ doc will help render both justice and peace for the Central Park Five who are, in that ultimate Alfred Hitchcock tradition, literally “the wrong men.”

If you see only one film at AFI Film Festival this year, don’t miss Burns’ bravura The Central Park Five!


The Central Park Five screens: Monday, Nov. 5, 1:15 p.m. at the Chinese 2.

 

  

 

 

AFI 2012: SOMETHING IN THE AIR

A scene from Something in the Air.

The Dreamers outsiders

By Ed Rampell

We often label and lump the turmoil that swept America and the world with a series of assassinations, Civil Rights, the antiwar movement, Black Power, China’s Red Guard, the Prague Spring, feminism and so on under the broad rubric of “the ’60s.” Auteur Olivier Assayas’ Something in the Air sets the record straight, showing that the era’s radical fervor continued well into the 1970s.

The film follows the trajectory of a number of French youths as they wend their ways through the tumult of this insurgent hangover, when it seemed there was a world to be won. At the center is Gilles (Clement Metayer), a high school student whose life alternately intertwines with various friends, comrades and lovers like Laure (Carole Combes) and Christine (Lola Creton). Along the way is street fighting with the CRS/SS pigs; tossed Molotov cocktails; and the factional infighting that those who believe in “workers of the world unite” often specialize in. (It’s truly astonishing how people who profess solidarity frequently fight with one another, as if the revolution is their private property.) Air chronicles the faction fights between various leftwing tendencies -- anarchists, Maoists and what the subtitles unfortunately refer to as “Trotskyites.” (To use a racial analogy, this is akin to using the “N” word to describe adherents of Leon Trotsky, denigrating them as fifth columnist saboteurs. Whereas “Trotskyist” is a respectful term like “African American” is; it simply refers to followers of the Bolshevik apostle of world and permanent revolution. Two demerits for counterrevolutionary nomenclature, comrade translator!)

Along with extremist leftist ideology, youth of that generation also grew their hair long and contended with the counterculture’s bohemian influences in the form of drugs; Rock music (Something in the Air has a good period soundtrack); psychedelic light shows; underground newspapers; etc. There is even a strain of mysticism, as Jean-Pierre (Hugo Conzelmann) and Leslie (India Salvor Menuez), an American diplomat’s daughter, make the journey to the East, seeking enlightenment and what Leslie calls “the sacred dance.” Did any other revolutionary generation have to deal with such intense alternate lifestyle stimulus and choices?

Gilles, an aspiring artist, manages to keep his cool and not lose his head by pursuing painting and then filmmaking. An independent thinker, Gilles takes both his screenwriter father and a collective of militant moviemakers (a la Jean-Luc Godard during that period) to task for the same cinematic sin: Bourgeois pictures. Gilles criticizes the latter for using conventional film forms to try and render revolutionary subject matter and consciousness to the masses, which reduces their artistry (or lack of) to trite sloganeering. As Gilles pursues his destiny, does the not so proletarian protagonist sell out in the end?

The gifted Assayas also directed 1994’s Cold Water (a sort of forerunner to Air); 1996’s Irma Vep; a segment of the 2006 omnibus film Paris Je T’Aime; and the riveting 333-minute Carlos, about the ultra-left hit man, which flew by without a dull moment.

Something in the Air is, of course, a feature film with actors, Assayas’ script, production values, etc., yet it is among the best chronicles -- fictional or nonfiction -- of that heady heyday of radicalism and the young revolutionaries who tried, albeit imperfectly, to change the world for the better. Although I of course had nothing to do whatsoever with this work and grew up in New York, not near Paris, Something in the Air is probably the closest thing I’ve seen onscreen to “my” own biography. Indeed, on the exact day I left America to pursue my destiny (I’m still waiting, BTW) in the South Seas, Chairman Mao died.

In any case, if you weren’t alive or of age then to experience those days of rage and hope, when world revolution seemed imminent, the highly recommended Something in the Air will vividly, brilliantly bring that era alive for you. And if you did participate in that period when for a brief moment all things seemed possible, you can relive them during this movie masterpiece that helps us to remember when we were able, perchance, to dream.


Something in the Air screens Nov. 2, 7 p.m. Chinese 1 Theater; Nov. 4, 4:30 p.m. Chinese 5 Theater.