“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).

“‘Porgy’ Meets Katrina, and Life’s Not So Easy” Response

Ralph Blumenthal’s piece about the re-adapted version of Geroge Gershwin’s “Porgy and Bess,” is both informative and engaging. Blumenthal opens his review with a strong lede, quoting lyrics from probably the most recognizable song from the musical, “Summertime.” He then extensively describes the musical’s history and its past racial controversy. It was interesting to hear how Gershwin’s work has been updated into a much more modern production, with “jazz-heavy soul and gospel orchestrations, choreography and imagery.”

As well as extensively describing this new twist on a classic, Blumenthal goes into a lot of depth about the history of the musical and how, during the civil rights movement, “‘Porgy and Bess’ was often derided as racially demeaning.” However, this piece contends that this new and improved version is able to “transcend stereotypes,” and instead represents “a snapshot of American history.” While Blumenthal’s kicker leaves a less than notable impression, his review of this Austin, Texas adaptation of a Gershwin classic is clever and well-done. With his use of historical context and stylistic descriptions, he definitely succeeds in building up the musical’s interest and appeal.

Once Upon a Musical

A broken vacuum cleaner, a worn-out, holey guitar, and dusty Dublin streets: these shabby images don’t often make for movie magic. However, they certainly enhance the charming simplicity of John Carney’s Once, a beautiful story of two musicians who help each other to find inspiration despite their less than luxurious circumstances. The plain but alluring cinematography, music, and characters make for a lovely, low-cost surprise.

Director/writer John Carney pulls off the low-budget style with unsophisticated grace. The rough, shaky camera work gives the film a documentary-like appearance, as if stepping into the real-life story of musicians Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. This style of filming also enhances the setting and situation of the characters in their cramped, homely Dublin apartments. It makes it easier to gain a sense of how poorly the characters live and how hard they must struggle to make a sustainable living as musicians. This unique aspect of realism is hard to come by in today’s films, and instead of coming off as cheap or coarse, this blunt authenticity is portrayed with careful and elegant simplicity.

As well as adding to the setting, this real-life sensation makes the main characters easier to relate to. Though musicians by profession, Hansard and Irglova achieve their roles perfectly, with unexaggerated acting and genuine, true-to-self personality. And while the characters remain nameless throughout the film, their direct, openhearted portrayals make them likeable and help us to better understand their relationship. Irglova’s straightforward, honest character is especially charming as she works toward helping her dear friend (Hansard) find inspiration and take action toward winning back his love. And instead of portraying a feeling of regret at their end parting, the characters convey a sense of gladness, ending the film with bittersweet beauty and hope.

Also adding to the underlying simplicity of the film is the musical score, which is both bare and beautiful. Hansard’s songs are heart-breaking but hopeful, enhancing the overall tone of the film. He and Irglova’s voices, though not grand or voluptuous by any means, are exactly fitting to their style: plain, straightforward, and heart-wrenchingly honest, singing “take this sinking boat and point it home/We’ve still got time.”

While this love story is not exactly riveting, it is strikingly realistic and charming. This enchanting realism is apparent in the film’s singular and carefully delivered style, characters, and music. While simple in nature and appearance, John Carney’s work is well thought out and makes for a Once in a lifetime viewing experience.