Tag: Movie Review

  • No, Giorgio!

    No, Giorgio!

    How could it miss?

    In the run-up to Ron Howard’s documentary about Luciano Pavarotti (release date: June 7), I got to thinking about “Yes, Giorgio” (1982). The most charismatic tenor of his day made his non-operatic, big-screen debut in this Franklin J. Schaffner-directed film. You know, the same Franklin J. Schaffner who directed “Patton?”

    Franklin, you magnificent bastard, I saw your movie…

    Here’s the premise: Operatic superstar Giorgo Fini (Pavarotti) is on tour in the U.S., when the unthinkable happens – he loses his voice! Naturally his manager engages a throat specialist, played by Kathryn Harrold (Giorgio thinks she is a nurse, ha ha), leading to much risible “repartee.” Not at all believably, the two fall in love. But of course there are complications. Giorgi IS Italian, after all.

    Okay, so the premise is creaky. Is there any opera? Oh yes there is, including Luciano, as Calaf, belting out “Nessun dorma” at the peak of his powers. But to get there you have to slog through countless scenes of Pavarotti, with a face as open and as ingratiating as that of a golden retriever, trying to compensate for a horrible script by charming the socks off everyone in the room. Let’s face it: he may have had a voice from the heavens, but Pavarotti is no dramatic actor. Fortunately, there is also comic relief, courtesy of “Green Acres’” Eddie Albert (just to keep it real). And not to worry, there is a pie fight.

    I guess there was no room in the $21 million budget – or his schedule – for John Williams to provide a complete music score (Michael J. Lewis does the dishonor), but Williams does contribute an Oscar-nominated song, “If We Were in Love,” with lyrics by the legendary Alan & Marilyn Bergman. Williams is in his element, and turns in a buoyant set-piece. In theory, this should have been a real showstopper.

    Alas, for all his lyrical gift, Williams is not a song composer, and even with (or perhaps because it is) Pavarotti singing, it turns out to be kind of embarrassing. It would be perfectly fine if it weren’t a song, but let’s face it, the balloon ride over Napa Valley ranks up there – or down there, as it were – with Margot Kidder reciting poetry to Superman.

    This was the same year as “E.T.,” by the way.

    Ironically, the original soundtrack is now a collector’s item. The belated domestic CD reissue was shorn of the Oscar-nominated song. Williams, the Bergmans, and the Pavarotti estate must want this one buried deep.

    “Yes, Giorgio” sank like a stone. Taking into account promotional and distribution costs, it lost MGM an estimated $45 million. Siskel and Ebert selected it as one of the worst movies of the year, and the film was nominated for multiple Razzies. Ebert claimed that Pavarotti utters the line, “I will sing this aria just for you!” a dozen times. The film opens with the following dedication: “This story is dedicated to lovers everywhere.” Oy vey.

    There’s so much talent squandered on this movie that I could easily be fooled into thinking I would like to watch it again. This is the most dangerous kind of bad.

    No, Giorgio!

    I am, however, very much looking forward to seeing Ron Howard’s documentary.

  • Why I Dislike Dead Poets Society (Like Ebert!)

    Why I Dislike Dead Poets Society (Like Ebert!)

    Roger Ebert and I must be the only two people on the planet who didn’t like “Dead Poets Society” (1989). I mean I LIKED it, but in a sheepish sort of way. The film looks fabulous – all the lingering shots of geese and mists hovering over a perpetual autumn landscape of a fantasy campus, replete with stone buildings and leaded glass and classrooms with honest-to-goodness wooden desks, play to my innermost private-school yearnings.

    But for all its cinematographic rewards, there’s something very cheap about it. The filmmakers can’t figure out how to represent visually the film’s alleged celebration of poetry as a transformative force, so instead they come up with vapid short-hand “solutions” like having the students steal away in the night for surreptitious meetings in a grotto, where they read by flashlight. None of them display any comprehension of WHAT they read, but they do indulge in other transgressions, like the smoking of cigarettes and… conga dancing? Really? This is not sucking the marrow out of life; this is just sucking. Walt Whitman, whom the screenplay repeatedly invokes, would never stop vomiting.

    The film is totally paint-by-numbers. And I really resent the transparent button-pushing, as this “enlightened” band of rebel angels sticks it to the stuffed shirts. I don’t mind having my buttons pushed, but at least work at it a little bit! Otherwise I’ll just watch “Goodbye, Mr. Chips” (1939) or “Mr. Holland’s Opus” (1995), which at least earn their tears. Even “Animal House” has the decency to be what it is.

    At any rate, I am resigned to the inevitable hail of brickbats as I engage in my annual screed against “Dead Poets Society” this week, on “Picture Perfect.” There aren’t very many films that set me off – my outspokenness about “The Lord of the Rings,” “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves,” and any number of superhero movies have all generated mail – and perhaps I should just shut up and play the music, but you know how it is. Some days you don’t have enough caffeine, or it’s 100 degrees outside, and you just get grumpy.

    Plenty of people are grumpy, I’m sure, as they head back to school. I hope you’ll join me for music from movies with academic settings, including selections by Maurice Jarre (“Dead Poets Society”), Danny Elfman (“Back to School”), Richard Addinsell (“Goodbye, Mr. Chips” and “Tom Brown’s School Days”), and Michael Kamen (“Mr. Holland’s Opus”).

    I’ll be in my grotto, ranting by flashlight, this Friday evening at 6:00 EDT, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.


    Misery loves company: Roger Ebert eviscerates “Dead Poets Society.”

    https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/dead-poets-society-1989

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