I know absolutely nothing about opera. I dabble amateurishly
in appreciating classical music because my curiosity was stirred by my love of
soundtracks and film scores. This is the only thin claim I can make towards
even an ounce of musical sophistication. I am also embarrassingly partial to
the odd musical. But like most men I find it impossible to suppress irritation
and disbelief at spontaneous outbursts of song, particularly when such musical
numbers contain the clumsy lyrics of ordinary conversation.
Within the first twenty minutes of watching this
“extensively restored” 1984 Francesco Rosi adaptation of Carmen, I was annoyed numerous times by the ridiculous, operatic
belting out of phrases like “I shall come back when the relief guard replaces
the old guard”. There is something more laughable than usual about it when it’s
all spelled out in subtitles.
Having said this I also recognised two iconic songs and
pieces of music that transcend the opera they are a part of in the first twenty
minutes. These sequences were enjoyable with their catchy melodies, powerful
voices and at times, more suitably poetic lyrics.
Gradually the plot of Carmen began to take shape independently of the occasionally uninteresting and irritating piece of music. It did grab me at times, if not all the time, especially when Carmen herself,
played by Julia Migenes, was onscreen. It’s the story of Carmen, the beautiful girl from the local tobacco factory, who is “free with her love”, and seduces the officer Don Jose at Seville’s nearby garrison to fall in love with her. He sacrifices everything for his all consuming unrequited love for her, only for her to choose another.
Written by Frenchman Georges Bizet Carmen premiered in Paris way back in 1875, to atrocious reviews and takings. Apparently it was divisive because it combined elements of serious opera, without dialogue in between, and comic opera, which had light hearted conversational speech dotted throughout. According to IMDb this was the first film version to use spoken dialogue as Bizet intended.
Bizet wouldn’t live to see the popularity of Carmen’s serious themes, so he
certainly wouldn’t have foreseen a cultural philistine like me humming along to
a variety of identifiable tunes throughout, without realising that they had come
from his work. He surely couldn’t have imagined the scale and vivid colour of
this restored edition either, playing loudly and sensually in the comfort of
living rooms for Carmen and Coldplay fans alike.
Perhaps Carmen would not be my usual cup of tea but it was a sporadically enjoyable slice of culture. It explores the forever universal theme of unrequited love, with some extremely emotionally affecting moments, despite an abundance of implausible and distracting ones. There are far too many overly dramatic reversals on the whole for me though.
But for opera fans it is almost certainly a must. My gripes
lie not with the production but with my ignorance of the art form. This
restored version comes complete with an expensive looking case and over an hour of special features, including a peak behind the scenes of the set and detailed interviews with cast and crew.
Raymond Chandler’s 1939 novel The Big Sleep, the first to star PI Philip Marlowe, was ready made for the big screen. It had a zippy, twisting and engrossing plot, propelled at pace by short, sharp chapters that feel like scenes from a movie. It is full of characters that are enigmatic, living in the shadowy underworld of Los Angeles, but they all jump out of the page at you because they are so flawed and real. Appropriately, the whole thing plays out in and around Hollywood. And perhaps best of all, Chandler’s dialogue is quick and witty, containing cool and sophisticated one liners that are easy to transplant straight from a book to a script.
The classic film version, starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall and directed by Howard Hawks, was released in 1946, just seven years after the original novel. Its place amongst other classics in a widely recognised Hollywood hall of fame is justified. It adds elements the novel was missing and brings screen legends like Bogart and Bacall together to successfully bring the charismatic Marlowe and feisty Vivian Rutledge to life. But it is also a largely faithful adaptation and owes its source material a huge debt.
What is the general story of The Big Sleep then? It is too complicated to properly explain briefly. Chandler’s original plot negotiated a weaving path between webs of blackmail, secrets and lies, fuelled by Hollywood excess. Essentially Marlowe is hired by General Sternwood who has two “wild” daughters, Carmen (Martha Vickers) and Vivien (Bacall), each with their own scandalous weaknesses. Carmen is being blackmailed by a dodgy bookseller doing something illegal on the side and Vivien’s estranged husband, who the General was fond of, has gone missing. Marlowe quickly unravels the blackmail but bigger problems continually turn up, leading him further and further into a tough investigation of gangsters, gambling and girls.
Elements of the original plot seem even more complicated on film because of the need to tone down Chandler’s frank portrayal of sex and drugs. For example Carmen is blackmailed because of naked pictures of herself but in the film she is wearing some kind of Oriental robe. Carmen’s attempts to seduce Marlowe, and therefore her dangerous nature, are also less overt in the film.
The best lines of dialogue are lifted completely unaltered from Chandler’s prose. There are far too many to quote. Almost all the dialogue in the book is slick and crucial to the irresistible noir style. The film’s script, by William Faulkner, Leigh Brackett and Jules Furthman, sticks as close as possible to the novel’s dialogue as well as its intricate plot and is consequently one of the best and most quotable in cinematic history, line for line.
The character of Marlowe comes to life because of his smooth talking street smarts. But this doesn’t mean that other characters are deprived of scene stealing lines. Even minor characters, such as a girl working in a fake bookshop called Agnes, get the odd gem. When Marlowe disarms her and asks “Did I hurt you much?” she shoots back “You and every other man in my life.”
Not all of the novel’s charisma could make it from the page to the screen. Despite an excellent performance from Bogart, accurately portraying Marlowe’s mannerisms and speech as the reader imagines them, it’s impossible to transfer the brilliance of his first person narration. Chandler gives Marlowe an incredibly strong voice and not all of the great lines in the book are spoken.
Marlowe’s nature as a detective means that he rapidly describes his surroundings vividly and unavoidably the film lacks the colour of these delicious chapter set ups, because it is in black and white. Marlowe also internally sums up other characters. We cannot see these first impressions on film. Despite the glamour of Bacall and the other actresses in the production, we’re denied such delicious and spot on imagery of the women as this; “she gave me one of those smiles the lips have forgotten before they reach the eyes”. No actress could express such subtlety. In the book we also learn a little more about Marlowe’s own state of mind and emotions, again through wonderful writing; “I was as empty of life as a scarecrow’s pockets”.
One of the changes the filmmakers did make was to intensify the relationship between Bogart’s Marlowe and Bacall’s Mrs Rutledge. The plot remains essentially the same, with some scenes tweaked and others, like a fairly pivotal one towards the end, omitted altogether and explained elsewhere. However Bacall’s character appears more often than she does in the book. The change in her character was probably for commercial as well as narrative reasons. Cinema audiences wanted to see a love story between their two big stars, not an unorthodox, cold and professional Detective teasing but ultimately knocking back a beautiful lady, as Marlowe does in the book.
Indeed the inclusion of the love story does fundamentally change Marlowe’s character in some ways. He is robbed of an ingredient of his allure as he is no longer a troubled but brilliant and determined loner when he admits that he loves Vivien. But it makes The Big Sleep work better as a standalone story and is considerably more satisfying than the end to the novel, which explains things but doesn’t exactly resolve them.
It is inevitable that the adaptation has its differences to the source material. And it is also essential that changes were made. I may miss Marlowe’s narration from the page and even the excitement of Chandler’s written action, compared to the film’s set pieces which are over in a flash. But the film gives me the unrivalled onscreen chemistry between Bogart and Bacall, which sheds light on and makes the most of the flirtatious relationship from the page. It might even reveal new truths in Chandler’s story, whilst lacking others. Overall though it’s clear that both the novel and the movie are sublime; clever and gripping, sophisticated and cool. Entertainment at its best.
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