ALL THAT JAZZ, BOB FOSSE, 1979
What separates All That Jazz from most musicals, is the level of honesty and authenticity. The musical numbers are all ways of expressing reality in an entertaining and artistic fashion, whether they are about the process and mechanics of putting together a Broadway music, or about one’s own mortality. Fosse’s mostly-autobiographical tale brings us into his world, the theatrical and directorial world, and uses that as a means to another world. More on that latter world in a moment.
The theater world is the one that Fosse knows the best, and he portrays it as a true insider. It begins with the cattle call, an arduous and brutal ordeal. The sequence goes on for a long time, nearly in a documentary style with clever editing to show the magnitude of performances that take place. George Benson’s version of “On Broadway” plays, reminding us what the stakes are. One of the dancers says he’s willing to change his given name (Autumn) if he gets the job. A job in a Gideon (or Fosse) production could make a career.
There are other theater sequences that are particularly effective. This was my third viewing, and one that struck me this time was the audition sequence with Victoria, who Joe had recently taken as a lover. Some may think that entitles her to special treatment, yet she gets none. She lacks in the talent department, so Joe pushes and pushes her away from mediocrity. You can see the pain on her face with every new attempt, and you sympathize when she thinks about quitting. This probably happens all the time in the theater world. She doesn’t quit and after a number of repetitions and being drenched in sweat, she gets the nod of modest acknowledgement. Gideon says that a take is better, and a sense of relief passes through her exhausted face. It was a nice character moment, performed well by the actress.
The other music pieces are part of Joe’s world. The adult-themed airplane number is performed as a dress rehearsal for the producers, but it takes a life of its own. It shows the director’s brilliance, but also his bravado. He’s not afraid to push the envelope, and the number is a reflection of how he lives – sex, drugs, and smoking. Another musical number is performed by his girlfriend and daughter, and is a great way of developing the character relationships in an entertaining and touching manner.
The other dance numbers were also part of Joe’s world, but not the same world. This world is just as open and honest, maybe more so, and they again show how Joe/Bob will go to depths that most filmmakers won’t.
Be warned, the remainder of this summary is going to be full of spoilers. This movie cannot really be discussed without referencing the ending.
Even though the dance numbers are entertaining and even fun, they are a contrast with the harsh reality of what Joe is facing. This is shown in graphic detail during the heart surgery, where they show the medical procedure happen – something I had never seen prior to this movie, and never expected to see.
That takes the movie to a different level. While in the hospital, Joe has a musical hallucination, which talks about how much he has done wrong, how he has failed. His decisions have led him to this point, with a fractured marriage, a stressful career, and literally, a breaking heart.
The final scene is pure brilliance. It is Joe saying goodbye to the world, including his professional peers, his family, even his enemies. The lyrics “Bye bye life. Bye bye bappiness. “ are dark, morbid, yet they are celebrational. “I think I’m going to die. Bye bye my life, goodbye.” Even though the movie clearly is leading up to the finality of Joe’s life, the harsh, abrupt ending is still shocking. It is still bold. It is still amazing. Even though the prior ten minutes were full of smiles and festivity, the stark reality is that you will be zipped up into a body bag.
Phenomenal movie. I’ve long called it my favorite musical ever, and that was cemented with yet another viewing.
Film Rating: 9.5/10
There are a ton of supplements, so I’ll give an abbreviated survey here.
Commentaries: There is one full commentary with Alan Heim, the editor, and Roy Scheider, the lead actor. Even with the shorter duration, Scheider’s is the more interesting, as is to be expected. Heim’s is good too, but there is already a featurette about the editing on the disc that is more effective. One thing that’s surprising from both commentaries is about Fosse’s take on the autobiographical details. It seems that he minimized the fact that it was based on his own experiences, yet they were undeniably him. Heim points out that the address on the medications was Fosse’s address, and he would refer to the lead character as “you” when addressing Fosse, which the director didn’t like.
Ann Reinking and Erzsebet Foldi: The actresses that played the girlfriend and daughter have a good rapport as they reminisce about their experience. The young actress had no idea of the scale of the movie when she was doing it, and it was something hearing her talk about seeing people lined up around the block.
TV Appearances: There are three of these; one with Fosse and Agnes de Mille, and the other two with Fosse solo. It’s weird seeing Gene Shalit doing an interview. I’m not a fan, but Fosse makes for an interesting subject.
Featurettes: There are several. My favorite was on the editing, which sort of negated Heim’s commentary. There were others about the music, on-set footage, and even one on the making of George Benson’s “On Broadway.”
Documentary: This is short by Criterion standards, but long considering everything else on the disc. It is roughly thirty minutes and has several interviews with people involved with the production, including Sandahl Bergman, who was flown in just three days before her scene and had to learn a complicated dance routine.
Between the quality of the movie, restoration, and the extensive features, this is so far the best Criterion release of the year.
Criterion Rating: 10/10
UNE CHAMBRE EN VILLE, JACQUES DEMY, 1982
After an opening strikers versus police scene that seems yanked from the Les Miserablés play (it wasn’t), the camera cranes up to an overlooking room with a baroness looking down at the commotion. After the conflict dies down, the baroness speaks with her boarder, who happens to be one of the strikers.
Strike that. She doesn’t speak, she sings, and he sings back. The wallpaper is a blood red, which matches her outfit. Immediately this scene recalls The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. It may be unfair to compare the two films, but Demy clearly intended to use the same style to tell this new story, and there are parallels with both films, albeit with a far different tone. Every line is sung, wardrobes and sets have matching colors, and so on.
As a musical, Une Chambre is no comparison to Umbrellas. The missing ingredient is Michel Legrand. I’m not sure why his collaboration with Demy didn’t continue, possibly because of the time commitment as he was a busy man at the time. Either way, his presence is sorely missed in this format. Michel Colombier is the replacement, and while he has put together a decent career scoring films, the only other thing he has in common with Legrand is the first name. His music in this film is uninspired and the sung dialogue doesn’t fit into the narrative as snugly as Umbrellas. Without Legrand, I wish they would have chose to let the actors speak rather than sing (or lip-synch). The intensely dramatic script could have made for a much better acting vehicle. Alas, that is not Demy’s style.
From the first ten minutes as the two characters sing the exposition to each other, I was prepared to dislike this film. It was immediately clear that it was trying to be another Umbrellas, and it was also clear that this was anything but. It took some time to introduce the characters and get the narrative rolling, but eventually I found myself taken in. While the music was lacking, everything else was vintage Demy. The costumes, set design and wallpaper did compare respectfully with Umbrellas. I particularly liked the scene with Edith and Guilbaud in his room, with the earthy colors of yellow and brown. These are colors that aren’t bright or flamboyant enough for Umbrellas, but they fit better with the darker story in Une Chambre.
Speaking of dark, when I reviewed Umbrellas, I mentioned how the ending was bittersweet, yet it manages to leave us on a high note. Aside from that, it is bright and bubbly despite being about a romance interrupted by the Algerian War. Une Chambre has a similarly dour premise, with a romance happening at the same time as a 1955 worker’s strike, but this is not bubble gum and butterflies. We know that when Edith and her husband Edmond first fight and the result is domestic violence. Later when Edmond confronts Edith’s mother, the baroness, he threatens to kill both Edith and her lover, if his suspicions of adultery are correct. Edith wears a fur overcoat with nothing underneath and she is bold enough to share the mystery underneath, which is an act far too seedy for the characters of Umbrellas, or any other Demy film for that matter.
I will not spoil how this plays out because it is worth watching. I’ll just say that it lives up to the dark foreshadowing. Compared with Umbrellas, Une Chambre has more grisly violence, stark sexuality, and the characters are not nearly as likeable, but the payoff is daring and not something you would expect from Demy’s universe.
Film Rating: 6.5
There are a handful of supplements on this disc, such as a retrospective and a couple of interviews, but I’m going to ignore those and focus on the two big ones, which happen to be the best supplements in the entire box set.
The World of Jacques Demy: Agnes Varda is an excellent documentarian, but none of her works is nearly as personal as this one. Created within years of her husband’s death, this is a retrospective and love letter of his entire body of work, including all of the inclusions in this set and other notable films like Model Shop and his final film, Three Seats for the 26th. It features Varda and family to a certain degree, but the most powerful sequences are three young girls who are simply fans of Demy. One of them reads a lovely letter she wrote to the director, thanking him for giving her life beauty and inspiration. The others felt the same, and they shared personal stories of how they grew up to Demy, how much they adored him and his work, and how they were left empty with his loss. Neither Varda nor any of his two children talk about his death, but they don’t have to. These three girls say enough.
Jacques Demy, A to Z: Film Critic James Quandt narrates this Criterion-produced visual essay about Demy’s body of work. He uses the alphabet to track Demy’s career, talking about the people who inspired him, motifs in his work, characters, and especially his family. With the letter B, he mentions Robert Bresson. Quandt also did the excellent commentary for Bresson’s Pickpocket, so he knows what he’s talking about. My first reaction when I saw Bresson’s name was that the two filmmakers have little in common with each other. Bresson is austerity while Demy is an eruption of style. Yet, Quandt still demonstrates a number of similarities that I had missed. Many of the male characters in Demy’s world are quiet, austere and understated, especially in his first two black and white films. Quandt parallels these characters with Bresson’s Michel and shows certain Demy scenes that were directly inspired by Bresson scenes. Near the end we get V for Varda, which is the most fitting. Oddly enough, they never worked together and they convey distinctly different styes and tones, but they complement each other and are forever intertwined. Finally, we have Varda and the Demy family to thank for putting this box set together and letting us experience Demy through their eyes.
On the strength of these two supplements, this is the best disc in the entire box set. Also note that The Young Girls of Rochefort is included in the DVD version.
Criterion Rating: 9/10
THE YOUNG GIRLS OF ROCHEFORT, JACQUES DEMY, 1967
Recently with a group of film buffs, we’ve had some conversations about Blind Spots. These are the films, genres, directors, themes, or whatever attributes that just rub you the wrong way and turn you off from a film. My blind spot are many of the American musicals from Classical Hollywood. I’ve tried and just cannot get into them. Part of it is the overdose of style over substance, and I think they often spend too much time and space distracting from what makes films good (plot, character, conflict). For instance, why spend 5-minutes on a song saying one thing about a character when you can reveal plenty more with actions against other characters?
Basically I like musicals where a character is a musician and that says something about him (Once), or where the art of the musical is a major part of the narrative (All That Jazz), or pretty much anything directed by Ernst Lubitsch. There are other conventional musicals I like, such as Singing in the Rain, Meet Me In St. Louis, and some I hate, like An American In Paris and My Fair Lady. I know, it’s not too defensible and I realize that. Despite my personal tastes, I understand that the American musical was a major institution, created by enormously talented people, and they deserve their place in the lists of the best of American film.
The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is an exception to this Blind Spot because it is revolutionary, and breaks from the formulas that I dislike. The music actually adds to the characters, all of whom are deeply drawn and identifiable.
I was wary of The Young Girls of Rochefort because I knew this was more in the style of the musicals that rub me the wrong way, especially An American in Paris. Fortunately I found that, while Rochefort is nowhere close to as groundbreaking as Umbrellas, there was enough there to make me appreciate the film. The characters were not as deep and their encounters more fleeting, but the film is made exceptionally well and manages to transcend what is not my favorite formula.
There are a number of characters with various objects of affection that dance around each other (literally and figuratively), with their perfect matches seemingly just barely outside of the picture. First, there are the carnies, who are basically interested in a good time and act more as distractions to the real romantic interests. There is the sailor who has devised his ‘feminine ideal’ and even painted her, which coincidentally looks like Catherine Deneuve’s demoiselle character. Meanwhile, the twin sister, played by Francois Dorleac (who tragically died the year this was released) encounters and brushes off Gene Kelly, who is a fit for her artistically and creatively, since they are both musicians. Finally, there is a shopkeeper with the unfortunate last name of Dame, who used to be involved with the demoiselle’s mother, who operates a frites stand and has no idea that he is even nearby.
The Umbrellas of Cherboug managed to have a deep message and a light presentation, and I thought that might be the way that Rochefort would go as well. Since the sailor and the demoiselle kept barely missing each other, was Demy saying that the feminine ideal is unobtainable? Even to the end I wondered what he was saying here.
As we learn in the final scene, the circus that is en route to Paris picks up the sailor as a hitchhiker, so we assume that he will meet his feminine ideal. It isn’t tightly wrapped up, but the message is clear. It is strengthened by the statement by her ex-lover who lies and tells her that this love interest is in Paris, which is “too small for your passion” and that she will find him. So, overall, there isn’t much of a message here. It is more about the journey of finding someone, at least for the demoiselles, or not finding someone for the carnies, who will go from place to place and stay lonely, although they don’t seem bothered by this.
Movie Rating: 7/10
The big one here is Agnes Varda’s The Young Girls Turn 25 documentary, which revisits the town of Rochefort 25 years later. It shows how the city has been revitalized, how the locals remember the project, and how it has become a permanent part of their culture. One local proudly carries around the VHS cassette of the movie everywhere she goes (hopefully upgraded to Blu-Ray by now).
It is a little more than an hour-long, but is a lot different than the standard documentary special feature. This is a Varda film, and rather than just rehashing a lot of tidbits of information from the film shoot (which it does to some respect), it takes a journey. In this case it is much of the crew, stars, and extras all coming together to celebrate the anniversary of the film. Much of it is jubilant, although some is somber. The scenes where they dedicate streets to Jacques Demy and Francois Dorleac were especially touching, the latter of which had Catherine Deneuve breaking a bottle to christen her sister’s street, barely able to hide the emotions of her loss through large sunglasses.
There are other quaint, fly-on-the-wall types of features. There’s another French TV special with Legrand and Demy working out the music of the film and answering some questions. The song was the one that the carnies sing, and it was a treat seeing them work out the timing, the ending, and how it would transition to the next scene.
There were also a couple features surrounding the costume designs and set designs, which were mostly about Rochefort, but also touched on Umbrellas. I enjoyed hearing about how the costume designer collaborated with her husband who was the art director to match clothing. Rochefort wasn’t as flamboyantly colored, but it certainly had a look. They paid a lot of attention to little details, such as coloring 1,000 total shutters on random buildings.
Criterion Rating: 8.5/10
THE UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG, JACQUES DEMY, 1964
After the opening credit sequence, the film begins in a garage, with Guy finishing up his work. There are not many images that are more masculine than a group of male auto mechanics fraternizing. Think of the crew from Drive a Crooked Road as they hoot and holler at the women passing by. This is a different auto shop, and the masculinity is quashed the moment they open their mouth. This is not a musical with regular actors occasionally breaking out into song. This is a movie where every line is sung, and not in the manner of a Mick Jagger or Tom Jones. The men sing with high pitched voices, in falsetto, in an instant shattering the stereotype of the masculine image.
While Demy was undoubtedly influenced by American musicals, what he created was truly original and groundbreaking. From the concept that every line of dialogue is sung to the sharp, loud and bright background colors that match the actor’s wardrobes, he broke through convention with a blowtorch.
Even now, some 50 years later, the world that Demy created takes some getting used to. I’ll admit that for me, giving it a second try with this Blu-Ray disc, it was not easy to get absorbed into this movie, but once there, I didn’t want to leave. The next 90 minutes fly by, as you become invested in the relationship between Guy and Geneviève, and whether it will survive his departure to the Algerian war.
Even though the movie’s presentation is the embodiment of consumptive lightness, the overall theme is rather complicated and not altogether pleasant. It is the choice between passion and practicality, something that most adults have to face at some point in their lives, and something that was the theme to what could be considered the film’s prequel, Lola. Roland daydreams and yearns for passion, but is ultimately scorned and chooses a responsible, practical life. Lola has plenty of temptations that might make immediate sense, including the potential coupling with Roland, but she waits for her original passion, and that choice pays off.
In The Umbrellas of Cherboug, Roland has changed entirely and is the face of practicality, whereas Geneviève is a shopkeeper’s daughter that is madly in love with someone from a lower class, Guy, who works in a garage of all places. This relationship could work, although it would not be without challenges, which is something that both parental figures realize and try to convey to the love-struck lead characters.
Because we have been trained by Hollywood that true love always survives despite all obstacles, the ending of Umbrellas is bittersweet and difficult to absorb.
Even though they both have their doubts, they have made their bed and have to sleep in it. Guy is at peace with the decision he has made, and that is exemplified by how he happily plays with his son in the film’s final shot. Geneviève’s appears to be consumed with regret, even if she’s the one driving the Mercedes, wearing expensive clothing, and looking as upper class as her recently passed mother wanted for her. Together, they would have made for a more passionate pairing, but they would have faced struggles in life that might have hurt them in the long run. Did they make the correct choice? That depends on your perspective. However, the choice was made and time has passed, so they have to live with it.
Some people have problems with the ending, but I think it is one of the film’s strengths. This is a movie about love, sure, and you become invested in the two main characters, but it is also about life and the choices we make.
Movie Rating: 8/10
This disc is full of extras, making it appropriately the most loaded yet in the box-set.
The Once Upon a Time documentary was fixating, nearly as good as the movie itself. It has many archived interviews with Demy, Legrand, Varda, Deneuve, and it peels away the layers that went on behind the scenes. As some would expect, the voices were not the actor’s, but they did sing as they acted in order to get the affectations correctly (and apparently they all sang awfully). I thought it was fascinating how tough the movie was to sell to distributes, seeing how successful and iconic it is in hindsight. Yet since it broke boundaries, I can see why people were reluctant.
There is a short interview with Demy and Legrand for French TV. These pieces are always of interest to me because the French media can ask direct, difficult questions. I thought the questions they posed to Legrand about how he compares with Bach and Beethoven, and whether those classical composers would have made film scores was pointed, but a very good question. They were basically asking whether he had compromised his own integrity in order to create film music. I thought he handled the questions with aplomb, and rightfully did not elevate his own talent to the world’s best composers ever.
Film Scholar Rodney Hill gives a 20+ minute interview that I thought worked effectively well. He gives a bit of a retrospective and contextual basis for Umbrellas, and makes the thematic connection with Lola. He talks about many of the difficult realities with the movie, and how it was a product of the Algerian war, which had just ended when the film was released and was fresh on the minds of the masses of people who saw the film.
Just like the previous two discs, there was a short piece on the restoration. They repeated some points from the previous two, but I liked how they showed the RGB print composition and color correction. In some ways, they have used controversial Turner-like methods to adjust the color, but they are doing so to get as close to Demy’s artistic vision as possible.
Criterion Rating: 10/10
This is the disc that makes buying the box-set worth it. Umbrellas is a landmark in French and World cinema, and Criterion has held up to their reputation of putting everything they can into their biggest and best releases.