Final Project Proposal

Over the past five or so years, there have been several popular movies that portray teen pregnancy. Films such as Saved, Knocked Up, and Juno bring pregnancy out into the open, addressing a subject that has remained un-talked about in the past. However, while these films succeed in bringing necessary attention to a common occurrence in today’s society, it seems that the issue of unexpected pregnancy is treated in an inappropriately light-hearted matter. These films often depict upper middle class heroines, all of whom have the support of their family and friends throughout their pregnancy. Little attention is paid to how having a baby might affect the future lives of real women. While it is a positive and worthy aim to attempt to exhibit a previously taboo topic onscreen, these films fail to accurately portray the more real and accurate aspects of teen pregnancy. With the movie industry’s false characterization of pregnancy, today’s young women may start to see teen pregnancy as an accepted part of life with great comedic potential, instead of a serious cultural issue.

Canadian Clowns Exhibit Masterful Flair

From the virtuoso playing of traditional baroque to the jazzier, modern sounds of the past fifty years, the brass quintet is never without a varied repertoire of musical styles to choose from. And it seems the always inventive Canadian Brass does its best to test all the limits of its ensemble. Their concert last Saturday at the Miller Auditorium was a showcase of musical expertise and enjoyment, featuring the talents of trumpeter and former Kalamazooer Brandon Ridenour. Everything about their humorous, crowd-pleasing performance screamed creativity, both in their musical artistry and their unique styles and arrangements.

Hailing from Toronto, Ontario, original founders trombonist Eugene Watts and tuba player Charles Daellenbach provide a historical backbone for the group. They have been with the quintet for over 35 years. The ensemble’s emergence in 1970 was a challenge, as the idea of a five-person ensemble of entirely brass was not yet a widespread, popularized musical assortment. However, through their perseverance and genuine love of the art, Canadian Brass has gained worldwide recognition for their pioneer style and character.

More recent members Jeff Nelsen (horn), Joe Burgstaller (trumpet), and Ridenour add their own youthful energy and pop to the more experienced sounds of Watts and Daellenbach. While each member of the group has evident skill, the most striking talent onstage was found in the impeccable, though sometimes strident playing of trumpeter Burgstaller. His sound had depth and presence, making even the most complicated passages seems easy, both in his technique and calm stage demeanor. His confidence and grandiose playing easily stole the show, though the spotlight stayed stuck on the young Ridenour.

Adding to the great talent of the group’s players, the show exhibited a quirky comedic aspect. Entering the stage in black suits and white Adidas tennis shoes, there was an immediate sense of playfulness to the performance. Daellenbach’s jokes kept the audience entertained throughout the show. He even succeeded in bringing what humor he could to Bach’s adaptation of a Vivaldi piece, mentioning smartly “[Bach] was so taken with it, he took it.” His improvised sarcasm was the maple syrup on the musical performance pancake.

However, as the show went on, it seems that the ensemble was so focused on maintaining the audience’s attention that the performance went from energetic and artful to downright silly. Their closing piece was a western opera, titled Hornsmoke, in which Burgstaller danced across the stage in a bonnet and skirt and Ridenour emerged as a “horn-slinging” villain. While this absurd brass opera certainly kept the crowd laughing, the respect earned in the expert playing of previous pieces plunged significantly.

Despite this exaggerated focus on pleasing the audience, Canadian Brass’ performance was a pleasant surprise. The infusion of the experienced skill of the older members and the youthful energy of the newer musicians made this show both impressive and entertaining. Their one-of-a-kind, innovative style breaks the boundaries of the traditional brass quintet and leaves the audience hungry for more.

An Old Phony: A Look at the Works of Joan Crawford

In his article, “Absolute Artifice from a Star of the Old School,” Dave Kehr reviews and critiques the varied performances of old-time starlet, Joan Crawford, in volume two of Warner Home Video’s “Joan Crawford Collection.” Kehr starts out by describing Crawford’s earlier performances as “almost entirely artificial.” He portrays her as “highly self-conscious,” contending that “she is always trying too hard” in her acting.

Kehr goes on to criticize Crawford’s early works, such as “Sadie McKee” (1934), describing her acting as high-nosed and out-of-place. While she is supposed to be playing the part of a servant being brought into high society, Kehr argues that this transformation is understated and that Crawford instead comes across as a “born aristrocrat.”

While Kehr obviously regards this first movie as a disappointment, he regards Crawford’s later works as more artful. However, he tends to commend the films more for their directors, “whose personal styles trump” Crawford’s performance. Kehr does recognize later on that Crawford’s acting progresses over time. While she maintains the image of “the frightened little girl” hidden behind a “brassy façade,” into the 50’s, according to Kehr, with age, “[she] seemed to become more comfortable in her own skin.” Though she became a more down-to-earth actress over time, Kehr recalls her a “great and terrible star” with an “obsessive drive for perfection.”

Absolute Artifice from a Star of the Old School

Drinking Off Marriage’s Hardships

It is amazing what lies and fabrications one invents when faced with the dire reality of life. The Whole Art’s performance of Edward Albee’s play, "Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" portrays this gap between fact and illusion through the complicated relationship of George and Martha. This topsy-turvy marriage and the complexity of the show’s characters make for an entertaining and thought-provoking production. Despite varying abilities in performance and a simplistic set, this show provides a deeper insight into the destructive reality of love and marriage.

George (played by Richard Philpot) is an aging history professor at a small college owned by his oppressive father-in-law. Though gifted and articulate, George is tortured by his inability to stand up for himself and excel in his position. He is a greatly elaborate character, teetering on the edge of self-ruin. Philpot delivers this deep intelligence with obvious experience and skill. He seems to know just what to do and exactly when to do it when portraying the much afflicted character of George. Philpot is genuine in every aspect of his performance. He appears weary and run-down as he describes his “fall into the vine of service,” and conversely, wildly passionate as he rants, “I’ve been trying for years to clean up the mess I made.”

It may also be the rather poor performances of the other characters that set off Philpot’s expert portrayal of George. Trevor Maher, playing Nick, a new professor at the college, is especially lacking in zeal. Many of his lines seem out of place; they are delivered without enthusiasm and are often inappropriately emphasized. Maher’s movements and speech are stiff and unnatural, exaggerating his T’s and S’s as if warming up to perform an opera. It is not until later in the play, when the characters have consumed a sizable amount of liquor that his performance becomes slightly captivating.

As well as helping the characters to let loose and open up to the audience, the consumption of alcohol plays a prominent role in both the actors’ performances and the plot. The liquor cabinet seems to become the central point in the set and even the entire play. Indeed, as the characters become more and more drunk, the show itself becomes more and more interesting. As the axis of the play, the characters’ drinking comes to determine the pace of the plot. It is easy to say that without this accelerating affect of alcohol, the production would turn into a sober bore.

With this seeming overdependence on alcohol, it becomes more apparent how truly tormented the lives of the show’s characters are. They turn to liquor and even illusion in their attempts to escape from reality. While some of the performances lack effective emotion, the intricate study of relationships in "Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" exposes a profound look at life and the falsehoods that are created in trying to cover up the truth.

“Oroonoko” Misleads: “Star-Corssed Lovers…” Response

In his review of the latest Manhattan play, “Oroonoko,” Charles Isherwood argues that a poignant love story and catchy ascetic appeal do not necessarily guarantee a well-done production. It is apparent in the first sentence of his review that Isherwood is not thrilled about this adaptation of a celebrated novel by Aphra Behn. He claims that the play is a “disappointment” in comparison to the genius and intrigue of the original text. Isherwood supports this claim by going on to praise the author, depicting her as a “fascinating figure” and even comparing her achievements to those of Virginia Woolf. With this initial commendation of Behn’s work, Isherwood makes it clear how difficult it is for an onstage production to match the novel’s pioneer success.

Isherwood continues by commenting on the play’s more external components. He describes the acting as being delivered “with committed earnestness and some humor,” and also depicts the costumes as being “richly colored,” the sets “minimal but effective,” and the lighting “artful.” However, to balance out these compliments, Isherwood adds the more important aspects of the production, such as mood and sophistication, are comparable to “higher-grade children’s theater.” And indeed, his plot summary makes “Oroonoko” sound like a heavy-handed fairy tale.

While he seems to appreciate the outward appearance and writing of the play, Isherwood is yet dissatisfied with this adaptation of the more greatly inventive novel. While his conclusion is short and to-the-point, his depicts his disappointment clearly, stating that “Oroonoko” will either “delight or exasperate, depending on [the viewers’] taste.”

Star-Crossed Lovers Caught in an Unenlightened Era

Therapy’s Theatrical Side Revealed

A close-knit, Italian mobster family, four single fashionista friends living in Manhattan, a dysfunctional, family-owned funeral home: it seems that with each new series, HBO never lacks imaginativeness. And like in previous shows, HBO’s latest original series, “In Treatment” provides a unique, deeper insight into its characters’ psyches and their relationships with others. “In Treatment” showcases the office of therapist Paul Weston (played by Gabriel Byrne) and the often intense encounters he experiences with his patients. The show exhibits originality in both concept and style, exposing a closer look at the complexity of human mentality. However, the ups and downs in emotion are often predictable and lacking in sincerity.

Gabriel Byrne plays the typical therapist perfectly. Always good at seeming mellow and disinterested, he pulls off the objective, unfeeling type with ease. He delivers his lines with dead-on nonchalance. The stereotypical psychiatrist questions, like “And what do you make of this?” or “How does this make you feel?” come off with cool indifference and the intelligent-sounding remnant of an Irish accent. But it is not until Paul Weston seeks out his own therapist, Gina (Dianne West), that Byrne’s performance becomes slightly charged and engaging. Yes, he even gets angry. Despite this subtle change, Byrne’s emotion still feels forced and droll, swinging from frustration to his usual easiness very unnaturally. This strained performance makes Byrne almost uncomfortable to watch, in contrast with the overly dramatic acting of his costars.

Though Byrne’s performance may be lacking in intensity, everything else about “In Treatment” certainly is not. The show’s concept is brimming with creativity and potential. Squeezing plot, characterization, and everything else into a half-hour therapy session is a risky endeavor. And in the end, it makes for heavy, magnified dialogue and very exaggerated circumstances, including one attention-starved woman’s deep-rooted sexual desire for her therapist, as well as the egotistical ranting of a soldier who is seemingly unaffected by the death and destruction he has seen. The plot and performances are overdone and unrealistic. However, this dramatization is needed to counterbalance the monotonous, unchanging backdrop of a therapist’s office. With this less than visually stimulating setting, it is easy to get bored and lose interest in the slower, developing parts of the dialogue.

In concept, “In Treatment” is inventive and original. It is its overdependence on excessively dramatic dialogue and plot that ruins its shots at becoming a prominent HBO series. While displaying a deeper view at the human psyche, the show’s insights are anything but profound. They are, instead, rather predictable. This predictability, along with the drab visual ascetic, deadens interest, leaving viewers to enjoy their own normalcy and wonder how, exactly, this makes them feel.

The Critical Impression: Oscar Wilde’s “The Critic as Artist”

In his famous dialogue “The Critic as Artist,” Oscar Wilde argues for the importance of criticism as an art form. He claims that creativity can only progress through criticism, because it continually “invents fresh forms” (901). It is true that without this critical influence, art would tend to reproduce itself, as there would be no force to deter its repetition.

He also stresses the importance of personality in the critical art form, because it is the critic’s job to interpret the art form he is portraying. According to Wilde, “personality is an absolute essential for any real interpretation” (911).

However, Wilde’s proposal that criticism is the most difficult and most weighty art form is questionable. Though he supports his argument well, writing “it is very much more difficult to talk about a thing than to do it,” he seems to believe that creativity is meaningless without criticism (903). This view is apparent in his description of the Mona Lisa, which “becomes more wonderful… than it really is” through its criticism (906). He argues that the original work of art is simply a “starting point” for something more distinctive. By glorifying criticism, however, Wilde undermines art itself. He seems to forget that without the creative form, criticism would lose its source; beautiful criticism must start with beautiful art.

Critical Defense: “Mehdi and Sarah and Adrien and Manu, Coupling Under a Cloud”

In his review of the film “Witnesses” directed by André Téchiné, Stephen Holden does a good job of contextualizing the film and depicting the director’s style, but gives an excess of plot summary, while providing too little description of the actual film.

Holden’s portrayal of Téchiné’s approach is witty and seems to be well-informed. He uses active imagery and adjectives, describing Téchiné’s films as being “casually sensual” and filled with “fluid sexuality.” According to Holden, the world he creates is “a liberated wonderland with few boundaries.”

Two paragraphs later, Holden begins to actually talk about “Witnesses.” He then spends over half of the review summarizing the plot. Though this less than brief synopsis certainly represents the complexity of the film’s characters, it seems that this lengthy portion might kill the readers’ interest before getting to the actual review.

If his readers manage to get through this tedious summary, Holden also disappoints in his description of the film. The adjectives he uses are bland and lacking in detail. He writes that the film is “beautifully acted” and moves “with the pace of a light romantic comedy,” but then fails to describe how. It isn’t until the last paragraph that his writing becomes passionate and interesting, as he writes, “In its light-handed way, ‘The Witnesses’ is profound.”

Pauline Kael, Alive in her Writing

“Movies are a popular art form, and they can mean a great deal to us at the time” (Davis, 73). The American public relies on films to relay important messages about all aspects of life, and they have the power to make great impressions on their viewers. Who else is more important in relating these on-screen messages to the public than the movie critic? Over the past 50 years, Pauline Kael has served as an example of the witty, relatable criticism that film critics respect and esteem to this day. Through her energetic language and writing style, “lowbrow taste,” and appreciation of pop, it is easy to see why her criticism has come to be so highly regarded.

While some critics like to use pretentious language with long, exaggerated diction, Kael prefers to “write about movies the way that people actually talked about them on leaving the theater,” what she calls “the language of movies” (46). For example, in her review of Top Gun, Kael describes Tom Cruise’s performance, writing “he speaks in a little-boy voice and looks such a Nautilized, dinky thing.” Her exciting, life-like descriptions make her writing very readable; people can understand what she’s talking about and laugh about it with her, as if mocking Cruise’s “diminutive” appearance with a friend.

Kael’s “lowbrow taste” also makes her reviews more alluring to her readers. She is unaffected by bias or predetermined preferences; she will give any movie a chance to be great. For example, she says, “so many people find a romantic movie… frivolous and negligible. They don’t see the beauty in it” (37). Kael makes her readers feel it is OK to like films that have a seemingly trivial subject. This is apparent in her criticism of Schindler’s List. She is not afraid to pan a movie, even if it is a sore topic to criticize. According to Kael, a weighty content matter does not necessarily make for a good film. In fact, she is quick to appreciate a more “light-hearted movie,” contending that “we’ve become a heavy-handed society,” that we expect a film to be “medicinal” in some way, rather than just entertaining (99).

Kael also has an amazing ability to contextualize the films she watches, applying them somehow to society. By doing this, she is able to cast her own opinion and make comments about the film’s societal implications. In her review of Funny Girl, Kael uses examples from the movie to explain how it does away with society’s “ugly-duckling myth” and instead portrays the backward message that “talent is beauty.” It is easy to see why Kael is “often accused of writing about everything but the movie,” but her applications of the film’s message serve to enhance her reviews, again making them more relatable.

Kael’s reviews are a refreshing combination of everyday, lively language and fearless opinion. Her ideas are straightforward and unaffected by outside sources. Kael is absolutely herself in her writing and takes pride in being able to express her ideas to her readers in a way that is interesting and easily understood. Kael states, “I love writing about movies when I can discover something in them- when I can get something out of them that I can share with people” (96).