FUN FACT: The University of Oregon is actually where they filmed “Animal House.” No university approached would touch the script, but Oregon’s president had been burned once before, when as an administrator at USC, the school had withheld permission from the makers of “The Graduate.” So he said carpe diem and full speed ahead. His only condition: that his name not appear in the finished film.
So, you see, the University of Oregon is even a better fit as home base for broadcasts of my weekly radio shows than you might have previously suspected.
As my own contribution to academic notoriety, I’ll be celebrating graduation season this morning on “Sweetness and Light” with a program of processionals and scenes from campus life – including a shocking number of works based on student drinking songs. Composers represented will include Jean Sibelius, Johannes Brahms, Franz Liszt, Johann Strauss II, Sigmund Romberg, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, and of course Sir Edward “Pomp and Circumstance” Elgar.
Hide the empties from your folks and join me in cap and gown. We’ll be disguising our breath and churning out responsible citizens when we reel to the platform to claim our parchment on the next “Sweetness and Light,” this Saturday morning at 11:00 EDT/8:00 PST!
In one of the most egregious examples of “Friday news dump” I have ever encountered, it was announced yesterday evening that Philadelphia’s University of the Arts will be closing, EFFECTIVE NEXT WEEK (June 7, to be exact). The reasons given are ongoing financial challenges (which have apparently escalated) and declining enrollment.
To add to the university’s woes, it has been stripped of its accreditation, over some business about not following “proper protocols.” Definitely consult some reputable news sources about this. I may be a journalist, but I am not an investigative reporter. I thought it more important that I get the news out there than to hold back until I can get to the bottom of everything.
The axe has fallen so quickly, everyone has been blindsided, including both students and faculty. The school will not be offering courses in the fall, and summer classes are cancelled.
This is the second major Philadelphia arts educational institution to announce its impending closure this year. In reading about this latest catastrophe, I only just learned that the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts will be closing at the end of the 2024-25 academic year! PAFA is a 200-year-old institution. (UArts has been around for nearly 150.) I hope and pray that the PAFA museum will continue as a separate entity. Again, the information may be out there. I haven’t had time to research it. The school closure was announced in January. [EDIT: It appears the museum will remain open.]
What will happen to UArts’ Greek Revival main hall on Broad Street or the Frank Furness arts compound on Pine is anyone’s guess. Hopefully they are already protected as historically significant. But I don’t count on anything anymore. I envision a façade being preserved as some grasping entrepreneur pounces to open the next trendy, destined-to-be-closed-within-two-years wine bar. Or salivating developers rubbing their hands over the sweet tax breaks they’ll receive in opening up Furness Condos. That stretch of Broad – which by the way is on the same block as the Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts – can’t even seem to sustain a Wawa or a parking garage/Starbuck’s.
The crater left by the closure of the University of the Arts, both in terms of real estate and the Philadelphia economy, is incalculable. Aside from the vacated properties themselves, there are soon-to-be-withered partnerships the university cultivated with other institutions, lost revenue from shows and performances that will be no more, countless vacated rentals currently occupied by UArts students, no more visiting parents, and no more student spending.
And that’s just the financial impact. Among the school’s alumni are filmmakers Joe Dante and the Brothers Quay, children’s book authors and illustrators Stan and Jan Berenstain and Katherine Milhous, movie poster legend Richard Amsel, cartoonists Frank Modell and Harold Knerr, wrought iron master Samuel Yellin, muralist and designer Miriam Tindall Smith, composers Vincent Persichetti and Marc Blitzstein, mezzo-soprano Florence Quivar, and pianist Natalie Hinderas – admittedly, a mere scratch of the surface.
Again, I am not the last word on these subjects, so please do your own research, both in terms of the University of the Arts and the fate of all those marvelous canvases housed at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts.
That Philadelphia is losing two venerable art schools, with such long and rich histories, is staggering. As a resident of Philadelphia for over three decades, I admit I have an axe to grind with that hellhole, but I wonder just how much blame, in this instance, can be put on Philadelphia, how much is poor management, and how much is simply emblematic of the times.
We are living in an age shockingly bereft of creativity and original thinking. The nail that stands up is quickly hammered down. Computers and finance are perceived as more attractive prospects – “sure things,” if you will – while the arts, as they always have been, are unpredictable, with career paths impossible to predict.
All I know for certain is that a city cannot sustain itself on trendy restaurants and sports teams alone. There needs to be a balance with institutions that foster an inner life. A city without art is a dead city. It is a city destined for bad things. Philadelphia should consider wisely before allowing this to devolve into a land rush for corporate carpetbaggers and opportunistic developers.
“…To crush your enemies… to see them driven before you… and to hear the lamentations of their women!”
This week on “Picture Perfect,” we venture very far from Turner Classic Movies territory with an hour of guilty pleasures, as we listen to music from sword and sandal flicks from the 1980s.
These include “The Beastmaster” (1982), a film that was once so pervasive on cable that comedian Dennis Miller branded HBO as “Hey, Beastmaster’s On!” and TBS was known in some circles as “The Beastmaster Station.” I still haven’t seen it, believe it or not, but I know it has something to do with swords, sandals, two ferrets, and Tanya Roberts.
The music by Lee Holdridge (who celebrated his 80th birthday on May 3) is given the royal treatment, in a performance conducted by Charles Gerhardt, of RCA’s legendary “Classic Film Scores” series, on an album produced by George Korngold (son of Erich Wolfgang Korngold).
To prove that I have no reason to lie to you about not having seen “The Beastmaster,” I enthusiastically embrace the fact that, as a 15-year-old, I totally lapped up “The Sword and the Sorcerer” (1982). And since I still love everything now that I did when I was 15, you can draw your own conclusions.
A pre-“Matt Houston” Lee Horsley stars as Talon, a mercenary-warrior of royal blood, who wields an improbable sword with three blades that can be projected, by unexplained means, like lethal rockets. There’s also a hideous wizard played by Richard Moll, who went on to play Bull on television’s “Night Court,” king of the B-movie villains Richard Lynch, and George Maharis.
This is the best example I can think of of a really trashy movie with a fantastic score. Revisiting the music for “The Sword and the Sorcerer” merely affirms what I’ve known for a long time – that 1982 was a kind of second Golden Age for film scores, when even the terrible movies had fabulous music. The first Golden Age, of course, was roughly 40 years earlier – though the movies were generally better.
English composer David Whitaker, a veteran of 1970s Hammer Films, relates in the album’s liner notes that he wrote and orchestrated 75 minutes of music at white heat. The result sounds like one of the great scores of three or four decades earlier. If you like Korngold, John Williams, or Vaughan Williams, for that matter, definitely check this one out.
“Clash of the Titans” (1981) had a much more distinguished pedigree. It was the last film of stop-motion special effects genius Ray Harryhausen before his retirement. Harryhausen was responsible in large part for such classic films as “Mighty Joe Young,” “It Came from Beneath the Sea,” “Earth Versus the Flying Saucers,” “Jason and the Argonauts,” and any number of Sinbad movies.
The supporting cast employed Sir Laurence Olivier as Zeus, Claire Bloom as Hera, Maggie Smith as Thetis, and Ursula Andress as Aphrodite, alongside Burgess Meredith and Flora Robson in her final film appearance. It was also the film that introduced Harry Hamlin, as Perseus. Hamlin went on to success on television’s “L.A. Law.”
Laurence Rosenthal, who studied at the Eastman School and with Nadia Boulanger in Paris, wrote the score. Rosenthal was responsible for the music for, among others, “A Raisin in the Sun,” “The Miracle Worker,” and “Becket.” This one actually does turn up on TCM from time to time.
While “The Clash of the Titans” was an end of an era of sorts, the success of “Conan the Barbarian” (1982) sparked a sword and sandal resurgence. Of course, most of the imitators it spawned were low-budget affairs that nobody ever saw. “Conan” proved a high-water mark of its kind. It also made Arnold Schwarzenegger one of the biggest stars in Hollywood.
It sports unquestionably the best-loved score of its composer, Basil Poledouris. The music is regarded in soundtrack collector’s circles as a classic. The original soundtrack was revived in a lavish 3-CD set on the Intrada label, featuring all the available music, with alternate takes.
If this hour serves to illustrate anything, it’s that the overall quality of a film (or lack thereof) need not hinder a composer. At least back then. If you decide to stick with it, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
Release the Kraken! Then slip on your man-flops for an hour of ‘80s sword and sandal flicks, on “Picture Perfect,” music for the movies, now in syndication on KWAX, the radio station of the University of Oregon!
Clip and save the start times for all three of my recorded shows:
PICTURE PERFECT, the movie music show – Friday at 8:00 PM EDT/5:00 PM PDT
SWEETNESS AND LIGHT, the light music program – ALL NEW! – Saturday at 11:00 AM EDT/8:00 AM PDT
THE LOST CHORD, unusual and neglected rep – Saturday at 7:00 PM EDT/4:00 PM PDT
The combination of Spock with “Where’s Waldo?” is a million-dollar idea. Too bad it appears I didn’t get there first. But even if I did, I probably would have thrown it away for free on Facebook or tossed it off as a quip to entertain my friends, like I do with so many of my other million-dollar ideas, and then leave it out in the sun to blanch with the rest of my cavalier creations. If only I had a Boswell to follow me around and document my genius, or a sheepdog to nip at my shanks and corral me into actually doing something with them.
Be that as it may, this post isn’t about me; it’s about Spock. I’m not quite sure why “Star Trek III” (1984) bears the subtitle “The Search for Spock.” It’s not like nobody knows where he is. The big question, once it’s figured out WHY he is, is how to get him back. Undoubtedly, this conundrum will be addressed as part of our conversation this week, when we talk about the film on “Roy’s Tie-Dye Sci-Fi Corner.”
Spock, of course, nobly sacrificed himself at the climax of the greatest of the “Star Trek” movies, “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.” “Kahn” was popcorn entertainment with resonance, the installment that proved, after a lumbering start to the celluloid franchise, that “Star Trek” could successfully make the leap to the big screen, with an exciting adventure story and compelling characters (Ricardo Montalban, clearly making use of his gym membership), and still honor its sacred roots.
I remember at the time there was a lot of behind-the-scenes wrangling, with Leonard Nimoy wanting to leave the series. After all, this is the guy who titled his autobiography “I Am Not Spock.” (He later recanted with a second memoir, titled “I Am Spock.”) Clearly, this was a guy who was conflicted about his legacy. But he never played Spock, in whatever incarnation of “Star Trek,” without great integrity. Perhaps it’s for this reason that Spock remains, arguably, the most fascinating (you see what I did there?) character in the entire “Star Trek” canon.
Anyway, that tension hung over “Star Trek II,” and, in those days before the internet, fandom was abuzz with the question, “Will Spock die?” Kirk even tosses off a coy remark, early in the film: “Aren’t you dead?” “Star Trek III” continues to play with audience expectations by not listing Nimoy among the actors in the opening credits. But hey, he directed the film, and his character’s name is right there in the title. He had better come back!
“Star Trek III” hopes to replicate some of that “Kahn” magic by coming up with another sacrifice to equal the emotional wallop of Spock’s loss, and I’m sure it’s one that hit hardcore Trekkers where they live. But come on, it ain’t Spock. At the end of the day, when the fanboy tears dry, what’s sacrificed can be easily replaced, and has been, how many times?
But looking back, as someone who graduated from high school in 1984, the loss takes on a certain loaded significance, I admit, as, like the crew of the Enterprise, my ongoing mission to seek out new life and new civilizations would never again be quite the same. The life would be there, but where’s the joy in uncovering new civilizations without the comfort of old, familiar things?
Roy and I will reflect on this and other matters, as we take a nostalgic trip back to “Star Trek III: The Search for Spock,” for the 40th anniversary of its release. We’ll be joined by our friends, Mike & Marybeth of SciFi Distilled, who certainly know a thing or two about “Trek.” In fact, one of them will be joining us from the Star Trek Original Set Tour in Ticonderoga, NY. Without their kind assistance, no doubt, Roy and I would run long and perspire.
We’ll be searching for you in the comments section for a group mind meld, on the next Roy’s Tie-Dye Sci-Fi Corner. To miss it would be illogical, as we livestream on Facebook, YouTube, etc., this Friday evening at 7:00 EDT!
Before John Williams, there was Erich Wolfgang Korngold.
Korngold’s music for “The Adventures of Robin Hood” (1938) was every bit as influential to me, in terms of introducing me to the wonders of orchestral music, as the score to “Star Wars.” Clearly, it also impacted John Williams, as the music for his biggest blockbusters adheres to the Korngold template of leitmotifs, lush orchestration, and swashbuckling action cues.
Williams has cited Korngold’s main title music for “Kings Row,” in particular, as one of his inspirations for “Star Wars.” The bold, opulent, classic Hollywood imprint is obvious. Listeners coming cold to “Kings Row” detect the influence immediately. Which is interesting. It’s there in the orchestration, of course, and in the bold fanfares, but it isn’t so blatant as some of the other, more brazen allusions that occur throughout Williams’ score, which I’m sure I’m not alone in contending is a post-modern masterpiece. It’s only little minds that scream theft. Good artists copy; great artists steal! (I believe Stravinsky stole that from Picasso.)
In case you are unfamiliar with his backstory, years before he came to Hollywood, Korngold was a child prodigy, the toast of Vienna. Gustav Mahler declared him a genius, and Richard Strauss claimed he was terrified by the amount of talent exhibited by one so young. His works were championed by the most esteemed musicians of the day. He was especially highly-regarded for his operas, with “Die tote Stadt” (“The Dead City”), given a double premiere in Hamburg and Cologne, the high-water mark of his success.
Korngold first came to Hollywood to assist Viennese theatrical impresario Max Reinhardt in bringing “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” to the big screen for Warner Bros. This is the version with James Cagney, Olivia de Havilland, and Mickey Rooney (as Puck). So impressed was Warner with the score, freely adapted from the music of Mendelssohn, that they didn’t want to let this world-class composer go. He was a particularly nice fit for the pageantry and swagger of the Errol Flynn classics.
Fortunately, Korngold was at work on “Robin Hood” when the Nazis marched into Austria. He and his family found refuge in the company of many other notable European exiles on the paradisal West Coast of the United States. But the luster soon dulled. Korngold vowed to compose no concert music while Hitler remained in power. After the war, he produced a Violin Concerto, which was savaged by one critic as “more corn than gold,” and a heart-breaking Symphony in F-sharp, which exudes longing for a lost world. Both assimilated themes from his film scores.
He never lived to see his reputation rebound. However, since the 1970s, the popularity of his film music and critical esteem for his concert music have been on an upward trajectory.
I’ve always loved “Kings Row,” even though the film is something of a curate’s egg. It’s actually a very grim story, anticipating the work of David Lynch, in some respects, as it gradually reveals the dark underbelly of small-town life in the Midwest. But it’s nowhere near as dark as the source material, a bleak-as-hell novel by Henry Bellamann.
“Kings Row,” the book, is a massive downer. Somehow, it also became a runaway bestseller.
Interestingly, Bellamann also had a musical background. Following his graduation from Westminster College (unrelated to the Princeton institution) in his hometown of Fulton, Missouri, he studied piano at the University of Denver. He went on to teach music at several girls’ schools in the South, while in the summers, he continued his studies in Europe with Charles-Marie Widor and Isador Philipp. Bellamann would hold several prominent administrative and teaching positions in the U.S., including director of the Juilliard Musical Foundation, dean of the Curtis Institute of Music, and professor of music at Vassar College.
As you can imagine, the book caused quite a stir in Fulton, but not because of its success. Rather, a few too many people and institutions recognized themselves in the extremely unflattering narrative! Allegedly the book was banned from the town library, and Bellamann was the target of at least one indignant editorial in the local newspaper.
“Kings Row” is one of the most subversive films of Hollywood’s golden age. How it managed to get around the Hays Code is anybody’s guess, but I’m putting my money on Korngold’s score, which breathes uplift and hope into what could have been an unrelentingly bleak story (as it is in the novel). Also, the ending was changed, such an obvious overcompensation, with the climax an almost ludicrous eruption of joy. It’s a neat trick, as somehow, in the film, not only is the wicked in human nature balanced by the good, but the whole is infused with an undercurrent of nostalgia for a passing world. It’s kind of like how people choose to remember “It’s a Wonderful Life,” even though you have to go through hell before you get to heaven.
Amusingly, from the title, Korngold thought he was being assigned yet another historical adventure, which is why the theme is so wildly over the top. By 1942, Korngold could do pomp and braggadocio in his sleep. When he learned of his mistake, he just kept it. And what a happy accident! The film is so much better – and so much more bearable – than it would have been without it. After all, how much madness, suicide, amputation, and incest can one take, especially in the 1940s? It really is quite the sleight of hand. Now I want to watch it again!
To this day, I waver as to whether Korngold or Williams is my favorite film composer. There are others I may revere more than either of them, but these two give me the most pleasure.
May I obey all your commands with equal pleasure, Sire! Happy birthday, Erich Wolfgang Korngold!
“Kings Row”
John Williams talks Korngold with Leonard Slatkin
Good nine-minute primer on E.W.K.
Violin Concerto
Music as good as spring itself: the Sinfonietta, composed at 15
