Now that my beloved Olney 9 Cinema is no more, J and I are forced to go to Rockville or Rio to catch a pic. What's worse, we have to drive the teenagers and then wait for their movie to be over because going home and then coming back takes almost as long as watching the film.
But the recent trip to Rio to see "The Soloist" was well worth the trek and possibly worth the $10.50 ticket. It's melodic, jarring, virtuosic, and soft--not unlike a symphony.
I find irony in the title of the film, though, because the story is really a complicated duet--never a duel--between Robert Downey, Jr, as LA Times columnist Steve Lopez and Jamie Foxx as the homeless and schizophrenic Nathaniel Ayers. I've often felt puzzled at the fuss over Foxx, but he earned his hype as Ayers through a deft performance that always hit the right notes and never scooped a note to please the audience. As for Downey, he's one of the greatest actors of my generation, and it's breathtaking to see him back in action in a film of depth and importance, with his edge completely intact (and the drugs and firearms, I hope, behind him).
As Lopez, Downey avoids the stereotype of the Great White Hope, and Foxx, thankfully, takes a detour from what another actor might see as his inevitable destination of Magic Negro. Downey's Lopez is a cynical "savior" of Nathaniel Ayers, a kindly but delusional Julliard dropout living on the streets and off his meds. Lopez can't resist Ayers' childlike charm and soaring musical talent, and the two become unlikely friends.
Watching Lopez's attempt to control Ayers--arguably while exploiting him in print--can be painful to watch, but I've been there, and I know how true to life the filmed portrayal of the relationship is. When it comes to forging relationships with people that ill, well, you can do it, but you have to throw out your preconceived notions about what's best and sit back and accept what is. The dramatic tension in "The Soloist" centers around Lopez's struggle to do just that and Ayers' resistance to any attempts to "cure" him.
And of course, there's the music. If you've read my previous posts, you know I love the cello. "The Soloist" did not disappoint. Ayers' love of Beethoven adds a resonant bass line to the story and exposed me to cello music with which I was less familar--I've been missing out. And according to J, Foxx does a decent job of miming the playing. (I know from my one cello lesson with J that just holding the bow properly is a tremendous challenge to the uninitiated.)
I could have lived without the flashbacks to Ayers' childhood and young adulthood and felt they were edited into the narrative somewhat awkwardly. (Although I was intrigued by young Ayers' ingenious technique for practicing his cello in bed.)
I suppose one could look at "The Soloist" as yet another story in which the so-called redeemer becomes the one redeemed, but I think it narrowly misses taking that street. You're left wondering if Lopez has really learned anything and if Ayers will ever turn the dischordant voices in his head into a choir, but that's a good thing.
An interesting comment I've heard from more than one reviewer is that the film revels in the gory details of life on Skid Row and that those details are alarming and frightening. Revel it may, but no one who's ever read Victorian literature should be surprised by the Dickensian intensity of Ayers' life on the streets of LA. Like Victorian England, ours is not a pretty age, and "The Soloist" reminds the viewer of that every chance it gets.
I'm still trying to figure out the thematic need for the urine jokes, though.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Strangeness at Strathmore
Last night J and I went to Strathmore to hear Lynn Harrell with the Tokyo String Quartet. Or rather, the Tokyo String Quartet sort of with Lynn Harrell.
The world-famous four began the evening with Haydn's String Quartet in G, Op. 76, No. 1. This means nothing to me except that I like Haydn. (When I took the "What Famous Composer Are You?" quiz on Facebook, it said I was Haydn. So scientific.) But one thing I like about Haydn--and many composers of his day--is the almost mathematical precision of the interweaving of the different instrumental voices. In places in this quartet, the precision was lost, I think because the first violin and the cello had different ideas about tempo. This is baffling to me in a group of this renown. I was left with an uncomfortable feeling that I couldn't explain until the intermission, when J agreed that I wasn't crazy--they were off. It reminded me of the sportscaster on TV the other night who actually compared the Nats' moves that night to Little League action. It shocked me to hear it, but now I understand--with great repution comes great responsibility. The Tokyo String Quartet had let me down. (The Nats always let me down.)
They redeemed themselves somewhat with Beethoven's String Quartet in C Minor, op. 18, No. 4. I've always loved Beethoven's compositions for strings, and this was no exception. The tempo became a problem again at one point, but they resolved it quickly, and I was able to enjoy the piece.
Then, after the intermission, Lynn Harrell joined the group for the Schubert Quintet in C Major, D. 956. I've never been to hear Harrell live and was looking forward to it immensely. The cello is still probably my favorite instrument--it brought J and me together! What was odd to me was that Harrell took the easy cello part, leaving the lyrical lines to the Quartet's celloist, whose tone was higher, thinner, and reedy rather than woody. J thought this was a good choice because Harrell's instrument has a huge, resonant, woody sound that served the piece well by playing the second part. Nevertheless, we were both surprised because Harrell is such a draw.
A quick note about Strathmore: While this is a gorgeous hall, it might not be the place to hear chamber music. It's a beautiful, blonde-wood airplane hangar, and the four (or in the second half, five) instruments just didn't produce enough sound to do them justice in the stratosphere, where we sat. While we didn't have a problem with volume when we sat on Mars to hear little Joshie Bell, it was a problem last night. The Mansion would have been a much better venue, or even the Barns at Wolf Trap. I guess there's just not enough money in that.
And again, I'm really tired of being one of the youngest people at a classical music concert. I'm 45, for crying out loud! What will the audience be like when I'm one of the blue-haired ladies riding the golf cart to the concert hall from the parking deck? Will there even be an audience? Seriously, if you're under 65, please go support your local classical musicians. And expose your kids to this stuff while they're young. They'll say they hate it when they're teenagers, but they'll remember it fondly when they're adults. You owe them this experience.
Rant over.
The world-famous four began the evening with Haydn's String Quartet in G, Op. 76, No. 1. This means nothing to me except that I like Haydn. (When I took the "What Famous Composer Are You?" quiz on Facebook, it said I was Haydn. So scientific.) But one thing I like about Haydn--and many composers of his day--is the almost mathematical precision of the interweaving of the different instrumental voices. In places in this quartet, the precision was lost, I think because the first violin and the cello had different ideas about tempo. This is baffling to me in a group of this renown. I was left with an uncomfortable feeling that I couldn't explain until the intermission, when J agreed that I wasn't crazy--they were off. It reminded me of the sportscaster on TV the other night who actually compared the Nats' moves that night to Little League action. It shocked me to hear it, but now I understand--with great repution comes great responsibility. The Tokyo String Quartet had let me down. (The Nats always let me down.)
They redeemed themselves somewhat with Beethoven's String Quartet in C Minor, op. 18, No. 4. I've always loved Beethoven's compositions for strings, and this was no exception. The tempo became a problem again at one point, but they resolved it quickly, and I was able to enjoy the piece.
Then, after the intermission, Lynn Harrell joined the group for the Schubert Quintet in C Major, D. 956. I've never been to hear Harrell live and was looking forward to it immensely. The cello is still probably my favorite instrument--it brought J and me together! What was odd to me was that Harrell took the easy cello part, leaving the lyrical lines to the Quartet's celloist, whose tone was higher, thinner, and reedy rather than woody. J thought this was a good choice because Harrell's instrument has a huge, resonant, woody sound that served the piece well by playing the second part. Nevertheless, we were both surprised because Harrell is such a draw.
A quick note about Strathmore: While this is a gorgeous hall, it might not be the place to hear chamber music. It's a beautiful, blonde-wood airplane hangar, and the four (or in the second half, five) instruments just didn't produce enough sound to do them justice in the stratosphere, where we sat. While we didn't have a problem with volume when we sat on Mars to hear little Joshie Bell, it was a problem last night. The Mansion would have been a much better venue, or even the Barns at Wolf Trap. I guess there's just not enough money in that.
And again, I'm really tired of being one of the youngest people at a classical music concert. I'm 45, for crying out loud! What will the audience be like when I'm one of the blue-haired ladies riding the golf cart to the concert hall from the parking deck? Will there even be an audience? Seriously, if you're under 65, please go support your local classical musicians. And expose your kids to this stuff while they're young. They'll say they hate it when they're teenagers, but they'll remember it fondly when they're adults. You owe them this experience.
Rant over.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
