Shall We Dance? (1937)

And speaking of Fred Astaire...

Well, actually I could entitle this post On Ginger, because I intend to use it to talk about Ginger Rogers, who is probably my all-time favorite movie actress.

When I start to write about Rogers, one of the first things that pops into my head is that an old feminist quip from the 1960s/1970s that went, "Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in heels."

What a crock! There are so many things wrong with this statement on so many levels, it makes me angry to think about it.

First off, as a statement of fact, it is flat-out false. Rogers did not do everything Astaire did. That would be nearly impossible. Among the reasons is the difference between the male and female bodies and how they move while dancing. Even my super-feminist ex-wife, who introduced me to dancing lessons twenty years ago, would have admitted that in a second. Moreover, Astaire is not just any male dancer but arguably the most uniquely talented of all time. His signature moves, of swinging his legs pendulum-like while the rest of body undergoes seemingly independent motion, is something that Gene Kelly wouldn't even be able to pull off with the same grace. And Kelly was really, really good, of course.

The quip actually refers to the fact that in traditional ballroom dance, the man is the lead. The lead (the man) steps forward with his left foot on the first beat, while the woman steps back on her right foot. It's just convention. Anyone can dance anyway they want to, and either partner can lead if they want, but well, somehow people often like it the traditional way, no matter how much others may not like it.

But Astaire and Rogers rarely danced like that. Most of their dancing screen time together is spent dancing side-by-side, facing camera. Also Rogers wore heels on screen only when the plot called for her character to be wearing heels. She often wears flats in many of the complicated numbers (and roller skates).

Rogers never tried to do most of the things Astaire did on screen. She did her own thing. Yeah, her own thing, with moves that Astaire never could have pulled off. How terribly patriarchal and retrograde!

And what was her thing? If Astaire's signature was his pendulum legs, then Rogers true genius was in her twirl.  Better than any other dancer in the history of Hollywood, Rogers was the master of circular motion, the adaptation of the pirouette into fluid motion on a sound state, often moving back and forth to Astaire like a yo-yo, but of her own free will, not his. The twirl is not something that a male dancer could pull off in the same way. Kelly could do it with power, but it is Rogers to capture something that seems to be lost on current audiences: feminine grace. I love how she seems to know exactly where her dress is, and how to make it slow at the end of the swirl and reverse direction right in time with the music.

One of the reasons that Shall We Dance? is probably my favorite pairing of the two great dancers is that specifically because it calls attention to Rogers' twirl. Actually in the movie, Astaire calls it her "tweeeeest" (as in twist). He character at that point is pretending to be a Russian dancer, but of course Rogers has already learned that he is faking the accent. When I saw that scene I smiled, because I'd already developed my theory of Rogers' twirl, and I knew immediately that this was something recognized by people at the time, although it seems lost to today's audiences.

Rogers' ability to somewhat cynically dismiss Astaire's corny humor, all the while falling for him, is what makes a lot of their movies have spark and life. Shall We Dance? is almost a primer in in the ins-and-outs of misunderstandings that crop up in a love affair, and the necessity for the man to be persistent and patient in pursuing his True Love. These are lessons of classical romance that were once the common wisdom of our society but which were rarely told to my generation.

Rogers always gets me when he starts to sing to. By no means could she match, say, Garland, in terms of vocal solo performance, but like in her dancing, Rogers' great skill was in how she used her voice and her body in character. She has an unmatched ability in my book to seamlessly go from talking/walking to singing/dancing as if there were no line between them. If (post)modern audiences lack a full appreciation for Rogers, I think it because they don't like her characters, who are very traditional in how they interact with men on screen.

I love the scene with her walking the dog, and the little story that is told in complete silence, moving the story along without a word of dialogue. My favorite musical number in this movie is when Rogers launches into her nasal drone, "The odds were a hundred to one against me..."

Bonus video: Rogers at age 92, doing the salsa.

High Society (1956)

And speaking of Cole Porter songs...

While waiting to see my next live theatre performance, I've decided to write about a few classic movies I've seen lately and which I really enjoyed.

I got re-see part of High Society a few months back on TCM.  It's one of those movies that if it comes on, I'm going to wind up watching part of it, guaranteed. It's among my all-time secret favorite movies. I say "secret" because one is not really supposed to like this movie all that much.

Yes, I know it's a remake of The Philadelphia Story (1940), and although I like that earlier film, it's actually not anywhere near the top of my list as far as comedies from that era. I think Grant and Hepburn did better work together, and Jimmy Stewart is underused, all in all. But I know my opinion is in the minority here.

As for the 1956 movie. C'mon, it stars Grace Kelly. You really need more to appreciate it? But I shouldn't talk: I was late in really becoming a huge fan of hers---I had learn to appreciate the early generation of actresses first (somewhat like how I purposely waited to appreciate the genius and significance of Monroe).

But mostly my appreciation stems from that fact that I just love the musical numbers in the remake, written by Cole Porter specifically for the film. I think that was a stroke of genius. They turned me into a Bing Crosby fan.

Yes, this movie would near the top of my list if anyone asked me for a movie sure to make them smile.

But to be sure, in case you haven't seen it yet, and in case the opinion of others counts to you about the movies you watch, then best to watch and appreciate this one by yourself the first time through.

Me the Acting Coach

My experience hanging out at Second Space in Fresno was fun for so many reasons. As I mentioned, I felt like I was almost part of the company there after going to three shows on successive nights.

I sat in exactly the same seat, off the corner by one of the exit doors, away from the rest of the crowd (I'm claustrophobic that way).

Among the ways I got involved was an acting coach for my friend Rick. It's not that I know much about stage acting, but for his particular role, I turned out to be a really good source of knowledge. His character, Sgt. Reed, is supposed to have been an actor back in New York, before he got shot down and interred in the German prison camp. His fellow prisoners are always having him do impressions of famous actors from that era, something that Rick can actually do well. His Bogart was spot on, and his Jimmy Stewart was uncanny. But I told him his Gary Cooper sort of sucked.

He said he wasn't surprised, as he hadn't really seen any Gary Cooper movies. As I happen to a huge Gary Cooper fan, I spent some time with him after every performance, giving him pointers on what to do.

He's supposed to do a Cooper as a cowboy in a gunfight. I told him to stand with stiff wooden legs, and to rock gently back and forth somewhat awkwardly. I taught him how to talk like Cooper, low and out of the corners of his mouth, and to fix his eyes open and wide like Cooper does.  I told him that when he draws and shoots, he should immediately transition from stiff and wooden to a quick crouch with deadly aim.

Rick is a great study and super smart. He picked all this up quite easily. I was amazed at how well he improved over the course of three nights. By the time that matinee arrived, he had it down almost completely.

But something was still bothering me about it. While I was driving back up to Oregon, it hit me. At one point, before he draws his imaginary gun, he is supposed to turn and pretend to spit. I realized that he was turning his head way to wildly to the side.

From Eugene, I wrote him an email. "Cooper would NEVER do that," I wrote him. "Turning your head way to the side to spit like that would get a person killed in a gunfight. Cooper would never take his eyes off the guy in front of him."

I told him to just jerk his head quickly to the side, and to pretend to spit out of the corner of his mouth, but while keeping his eyes fixed on the same point ahead of him.

He said he'd take my advice. He's really eager to improve as an actor. I figured it would work especially well for the Sunday matinee crowds, which skew towards the oldest demographic---people who probably saw plenty of Gary Cooper movies back in the day.

I know he'll do fantastic, or as the old song goes, super duper!

A Calm Day of Driving and Reflection

The landscape of Eastern Washington looks amazing open after having on the West Coast for a couple weeks. A good day to reflect and think as the highway rolls by. Seven years ago today I left New York City as a resident for the last time. Can't help but wonder what the next seven years will bring.

Must be Robin Goodfellow

Today I ventured into downtown Portland for business, which turned out to be a highly successful trip. Afterward, I was in such a good mood I wandered around the city a little and decided to drop by to see an old friend who works at Powell's Books as a cashier. His name is Nick Z.

His primary vocation is a playwright, as it happens. Four yeas ago, the last time I was in Oregon before this recent trip, I went down to Salem to see a production of one of his shows at our mutual alma mater, where he was an artist in residence.

At Powell's, I saw him at the checkout counter and snuck up beside him, hanging on the stair rail a few feet away. Finally he saw me, grinning like Puck. That got a big smile and laugh out of him. 

He couldn't take a break from his work right then, so our conversation lasted only a few minutes. I told him I was only in town for the day, before heading back to Colorado for now. But I promised I'd be back soon and have drinks with him and his lovely wife.

In our abbreviated conversation he told me something funny that resonated with my new direction in life.

He said that he had been working on a new play over the last week, and that one of the characters was named Matthew. He said that whenever he typed that name into Microsoft Word, the program tried to automatically convert the name into my email address.

I don't know how I could possibly be in a better mood than I am right now, but that really put the cherry on top of it all.

See you soon, Nick! First round is on me.

Cowgirl Heaven @ the Wildish Theater

seen in: Springfield, Oregon, two nights ago.

So yes, I'm really in Oregon (again, for the second time on this trip). I spent the last three nights in a motel in Eugene across from campus.  I had come back up to Oregon for the second time on this trip after getting a call from a guy in Portland who works for an educational publishing company, about possibly doing some contract work for them. It's exactly the kind of thing I was looking to do. I took three days to drive up from Fresno, and camped in view of Mt. Shasta on the way. It was a much better trip than the one through Nevada a couple weeks before.

It was weird being back in Oregon again, of course, but the difference this time compared to just last month felt like heaven compared to hell. Like night and day.

Eugene surprised me. Frankly I'd come to think that I wasn't capable of living in Oregon, that there was no place that appealed to me. Whenever I told people I was going there, and might relocate there, they would say, "Oh, Portland is nice, I hear." I would tell them that I don't like Portland much. It makes me feel lonely and isolated. I prefer smaller towns and cities, but none in the Portland area made me feel comfortable at all. I drove through a couple of them, but I am giving a wide berth to one of them for now, out of respect for a good friend.

But Eugene, well, that's a place I decided I could actually live. When I was here a couple weeks ago, I had stopped in Eugene and found myself checking my email at a Starbucks at the corner of Broadway and Pearl. How ironic, I thought. Where have I heard of that intersection before?

I'd only spent one night in Eugene, in 1993 during a road trip. It didn't much appeal to me then. But things change. I felt almost instantly at home there, even if it is still for now second best in my heart to another college town I won't mention. I loved walking around the city and the campus, even though at times I felt the sympathetic pain of a good friend's bad memory from that place. I tried to think of happier things, like playing go. After a day it worked, and I was even able to finish the first chapter of my manuscript in my motel room. This morning I didn't want to leave and drive north on I-5. But work calls---gotta make a living.

Of course one of the first things I did was put into motion my plan to start attending community theater again. I picked up a copy of the weekly newspaper and scouted for some possibilities. Fortunately I hit the jackpot. On Saturday night there was a one-time encore performance of Cowgirl Heaven, a little musical I'd never heard of. It was playing across the river in Springfield. It's about five women who work the rodeo circuit in the 1920's, a time when it was almost unheard of for women to perform stunt work. It had about ten interesting musical numbers, following their lives and careers, starting in Pendleton and going all around the country, even to New York.

The Wildish Theater is very nice, with plenty of comfortable seats. As I like to, I sat by myself in one of the upper rows, higher even that the crew running the lights along the side.

As I was watching the performance, I couldn't help think of how, on Saturday night, if I were out seeing a movie by myself, I would leave the theater after the credits had rolled (as I ALWAYS do---it's part of the movie, after all) but would feel tremendously lonely going back to my room.

But in the Wildish, I felt connected to everyone in audience. It was a truly shared experience with everyone there, and everyone on stage. I can't believe it took me this long to rediscover this. The best fifteen bucks I ever spent.

Rick kept insisting in Fresno that I find an audition for a show and try out. I told him that for now I just wanted to be an audience member and a blogger about theater, but after a couple days, I relented and told him I'd give it a go, if and when an opportunity came up.

Crest Theatre, Fresno

Traveling the country I've seen so many old movie houses in old downtowns that just fill my heart with joy to see them. It has occurred to me that perhaps the main reason I went to see so many movies for so long is simply because I liked going into theaters.

One thing that amazes me is how resilient old movie houses are. They may change form, and serve completely different purposes, but as architecture, they are amazingly stable. I've seen re-incarnated in almost every form, but with the marquee and the exterior barely altered. There is just something so compelling about them. I've learned that unless the movie theater is completely demolished, it is possible to renovate into anything. I'm aware of a few old theaters that have indeed been torn down and it is always sad to me. In particular case, the theater site has simply become a parking lot.

The Crest Theater here in Fresno has undergone a fairly common renovation as a live music venue. That's my friend Rick walking in front. We were walking around downtown Fresno when I saw the Crest and said "I have to take a picture of that!" Since he's now an actor, I figured he wouldn't mind being caught in this candid shot I took from across the street. My camera card is filled with photographs of old theaters like this, often taken while I'm sitting at a stoplight at a small town, desperately trying to get the shot before the light changed. Maybe I'll dig some more out like this.

Goodbye to a Decade of Pain

In Fresno, I was able to spend a lot of time catching up with my old friend and hearing the story of how he came to wind up on stage. It wasn't his first choice. He had tried to break into movies, like many foIk, and had found it impossible. "Real actors don't need cameras pointed at them," I told him. I told him that I admired his determination, but there is no way in the world I would ever want to try to break into the film industry. It just doesn't appeal to me at all. Of course this is quite ironic, given how much I wrote about movies over the last couple years (over 200,000 words, the last time I estimated). But to me it was never about trying to become part of the movie industry. It was something far deeper and more important in my life. If I could summarize, I would say this: in 2004 I left New York City and separated from my wife. For the next two years, I was pretty much depressed and broken, for reasons that I could not even understand at the time, but which have become clear to me in great detail. I wound up living much of that time in a friend's basement apartment, but also being completely cut off from her. It was very strange. During that time I grew to become extremely angry at the world, for my situation, and for what I saw as the absurdity that the entire world had become. In June 2006, I became so disgusted at the television, and all the things people were saying on the news channels, that I thought I couldn't watch tv or read the news anymore. At that moment, for some reason, I flipped the channel over to Turner Classic Movies and pretty much left it on there for the next two years straight without changing channels. My job let me work at home and I would leave the television on, playing a whole day of old movies one after another. In college I had taken a film class, during my last semester at Willamette, but I hadn't really taken it seriously as a study of contemporary art. Watching TCM not only gave me the film education i never had, but it also taught me what I saw as the real history of the 20th Century. It was like being immersed in a time machine. After a while I began to feel as if I were living in 1948. I began to understand how much America had changed, especially the rules about how men and women interact. It was a tremendous change in me, to see contemporary culture in that light. I could see how much destruction had been wrought by these changes. Before I started my viewing, I could hardly watch any old black and white movie from the 1930s. After two years I could easily watch three 1930s movies in a row. I learned about actors, actresses, directors, producers ,etc., I never knew about it. I came to see the library of classic Hollywood movies as an enormous treasure bequeathed to us. I even fell in love with Ginger Rogers (I blew a kiss to a picture of her in a storefront last night on my way to see a community theater production). It was great fortification. It changed me. It gave me a sense of honor I never had, and what it means to be a man. I realized how I had been so wrong in so many things in my life. It made me feel sorry for our culture today, and all the destroyed lives and discarded wisdom. It was nearly impossible for me to see new movies in theaters during that time. "It's like surfacing in a water and taking a giant gulp of sewage on the surface," I once said. Yet even then I knew that there was a reason why the Classical world was destroyed. "The Classical world had enormous structure," I said. "But it was also a prison." That's why there are so many movies where people wind up having to go to jail at the end, because the Classical rules dictated such.On the other hand, Postmodernity (contemporary movie) supposedly had no rules but it was a sewer. Just when I thought my life would go on forever like that, in June 2008, a whole raft of things about my life suddenly changed. First off, the company I was working for went bust, so I lost my job. Also my friend from whom I was renting the apartment moved out of the upstairs, and I had no desire to stay there any longer. Also a close friend, with whom I had been trying to write a screenplay and had been working with nearly every day for two years, was suddenly diagnosed with leukemia. Also my ex-wife, with whom I had been friends since our divorce, suddenly cut off all contact with me (I learned last week from Rick that she got remarried not long after that. I'm happy for her and am at peace with all that. I was happy to leave our marriage). In any case, I was suddenly in a new place in life. I decided that I would travel for a while. Without TCM, there were no more classic movies. Instead I decided to start to go see movies in theaters again. Like all things I do, it became an obsession, one that carried me over the next two years as I travelled around the country in my car, and over to Europe. It was tremendous fun while I was doing it, even as it was very lonely. I went to nearly every movie all by myself. Writing about them here on my blog helped me sustain myself, and feel as if I were connecting to other people while doing it. But it couldn't last. It took it's toll on me, to be exposed to so much of the culture of Postmodernity so deeply. It was like drinking poison and trying to synthesize it in my body. After a while, it caught up to me. All the time I was travelling I was also battling tremendous demons. I was chasing ghosts of monsters all over the country and the world. Many of the places I went to were because I was trying to track down the remnants of certain historical individuals, most of them long dead, whom I had come to see as the architects of the disaster that had overtaken our country and the world. At one point my quest saw me in a quiet graveyard in suburban Connecticut, throwing a symbolic folding shovel down on the grave of someone who died in 1972 and screaming at the air. I was battling huge monsters---world-size ones. Only my leukemia-stricken friend knew the whole story of what I was doing. I felt all alone, as if it were up to me to save the world, and restore something that had been lost. I thought that there was no one else in the world who could help me, because I alone knew the identities of the monsters. It was me against the world. Finally in 2010 I couldn't take it anymore and various reasons suffered an emotional collapse and withdraw. I couldn't go on battling these monsters by myself. I couldn't see movies anymore. Last fall I made one last stab at compiling the notes of the things I had learned, so I could the story of what I had learned to others. I was fairly successful at this. Then in November my grandfather passed away. Somehow it released a whole flood of emotions that had been pent up. The last ten months have been among the most emotionally chaotic in my life, trying to synthesize all the emotions I have experiences over the last few years, and trying to get past the struggle with the monsters I mentioned. But the good part is that now, ten years after the giant tragedy that changed all our lives, I have come to feel free of so much of the monsters that are still imprisoning the rest of the country. I see the tributes and memorials on Facebook and on television and I know how trapped so many people are. I had to go on and try to slay the largest dragons that mankind that ever produced, but somehow i feel free. But it can't stop here. As my Thor, my leukemia-stricken friend who has now fully recovered, told me. "You HAVE to write this up. You HAVE to find a way to express this through art. You have a duty..." He wasn't saying anything I didn't already know. He was just repeating my words and thoughts back to me. For much of this year, I have been struggling with how to find a way forward. I was at a loss. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. But somehow over the last two weeks, I have felt the dawning of a new day, a new way forward. This is what I'll be writing about here I guess. Two nights ago in my motel room I finished the first chapter of a manuscript I've known I had to write for a long time. Artistic expression is the only way forward for me. It's the only thing that keeps the pain at bay. It's the only thing that feels like healing. So here I go.

Stalag 17 @ Second Space aka My Great Revelation about My Life and the Direction for Me

Seen in Fresno, on Sept. 1,2,3

If there was one thing about Fresno that really changed my life, it was the discovery, or rather rediscovery of something that has been missing from life, which is live theater.

One of the reasons I went there was to see my friend make his stage debut in a local theater production there of Stalag 17, the play that the movie was based on. He had never been on stage before in life. The production had debuted in mid August. I was only planning to see the Thursday show but I wound up going on Friday and Saturday night as well.

Rick played Sgt. Reed, the big-mouthed American prisoner whose indiscretion winds up causing all sorts of problems and driving the plot. I told Rick that it was quite ironic, given certain things in my life recently. It's funny how theater works that way, and directly connect with you.

After three nights I was practically an understudy. Everyone in the cast knew me. The cast even liked hanging out on the hood of my classic BMW behind the theater (everybody loves my car).

Frankly it's the reason I'm blogging again. Years ago I was in theater, and when I was there, I found it to be my family, the refuge for me against the crushing isolation and loneliness of the rest of the world. All through high school I was in productions, but for some reason, in college, I thought I was supposed to do other things, so I was only in one production in college and have never been on stage since then.

Rick was adamant that I give it a try again, and I promised him that I would, not because I have some great yen for people to clap for me, but for many other reasons, the primary one being that I know this is where I am supposed to find my family again, in whatever form. Somehow I've known this, but have resisted it. But now I know I am ready for it again. Heck, maybe I'll do it in Fresno.

I am planning to write a lot about this, right here on my blog. If you followed me in the past and read any of my posts, know that all of a sudden I have a lot to say about a lot of things, and want to share them. Also, I realize that some people have commented on my posts but I did not do a very good job of replying. I wasn't in a position emotionally to respond I think, for various reasons, while I was working through certain emotions. But now I feel free again and for starters I've gone back and made few replies to comments people have made. If you have made any, you might double check if you are in the mood to do so.

Fresno loves me!

I never expected to feel so welcome and alive in this place, but after a week's stay here, I feel like a new man. Most of it due to my hosts, Carolyn W. and my good friend Rick, whom I hadn't seen in years. It was an awesome reunion, so much so that I even feel like blogging again, even though I haven't seen any movies lately. I think I want to blog about other things now, and I'm starting off by saying how much I love Fresno back.