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Reviews

June '24 Digital Week I

In-Theater/Streaming Releases of the Week 
Robot Dreams 
(Neon)
In this tearjerking animated fantasy, a lonely dog builds a robot so he has a friend, but after he leaves it on the beach one summer, both of them find ultimately satisfying ways of going on with their lives.
 
 
Director Pablo Berger has made a clever, even witty and touching fable about companionship and loneliness, set in a cool-looking ’80s NYC entirely populated by animals and the occasional robot. Kids will enjoy it, of course, but their parents might get even more out of it, especially since the animation is so refreshingly elegant in its simplicity.
 
 
 
Naughty 
(Capelight)
This Russian 50 Shades of Grey has a plot as implausible as the worst adult film: Elya, a beautiful, independent, headstrong (fill in the blank) college student, is an environmental activist and influencer shocked that a local forest is being cleared for more development. But when she meets the developer, she finds him gorgeous and charming; he bets her that after a week of romance, she will see the error of her ways. Does she succumb? Well, I’m not going to ruin the fun! (Yes, she does.) 
 
 
50 Shades is actually referenced in the dialogue, and Anastasiya Reznik and Alexander Petrov certainly make a sexy pair, but getting through this will depend on your tolerance for the eye-rolling attempts at eroticism from director Dmitriy Suvorov.
 
 
 
Protocol 7 
(Abramorama)
It’s not enough that Andrew Wakefield, disgraced anti-vaxxer, has branched into badly slanted, unwatchable advocacy documentaries (2016’s Vaxxed: From Coverup to Conspiracy), but now he’s decided to write and direct a feature. This conspiracy thriller might even be worse than his doc, as a shady Big Pharma company pushes through an MMR vaccine that does irreparable harm to vaxxed infants.
 
 
The political and moral positions are awful enough, but Wakefield compounds the problem by being an astonishingly inept director and writer: the film’s best performances come from actors who play a dumbfounded nurse and doctor in a scene where they are berated by a new dad upset they gave his newborn scheduled vaccines. Then there are the end credits, during which “facts” are shown onscreen, all sourced to a book cowritten by—of course—RFK Jr.
 
 
 
Rowdy Girl 
(Argot)
Jason Goldman’s straightforward documentary introduces Renee King-Sonnen, a Texas cattle rancher who’s now a vegan and wants to transform her husband Tommy’s huge, profitable ranch into a sanctuary (it’s named Rowdy Girl) that protects the animals at all costs.
 
 
Goldman presents Renee and Tommy’s story matter-of-factly, without any needless editorializing, which makes it even more powerful when we listen to her speak about why she changed from killing cattle and eating meat to where she is today, along with touching moments of her bonding with the animals.
 
 
 
Summer Camp 
(Roadside Attractions)
This latest by-the-numbers senior comedy stars Diane Keaton (who else?), along with Viola Davis and Kathy Bates, as longtime friends who met decades earlier at summer camp who decide to relive those experiences by attending a—you guessed it—summer camp reunion.
 
 
It all plays out exactly as you’d expect, through laughter and tears, misunderstandings and making up, along with a couple of older guys thrown into the mix (Dennis Haysbert and Eugene Levy, who both look properly embarrassed) for our gals. Keaton, of course, is as irrepressible as ever, Woodard and Bates do decently enough, but it’s as instantly forgettable as a day at camp.
 
 
 
4K/UHD Release of the Week
Cemetery Man 
(Severin)
You might not see a more bizarre and, yes, insane movie than this 1995 zombie entry from Italian director Michele Soavi: Rupert Everett (who looks amusingly bemused throughout) plays cemetery keeper Francesco, who must fend off all manner of reanimated corpses, including the gorgeous wife (Anna Falchi) of a recently buried elderly man—she died having sex with Francesco on hubby’s grave.
 
 
The fun part is that Soavi gleefully leans into the craziness, and the blood, gore, sex and ridiculous performances and dialogue all add up to something breathtaking in its combined lunacy and chutzpah. The film’s explicit but tongue-in-cheek visuals look clearer than ever on UHD; the 4K disc has a commentary by Soavi and screenwriter Gianni Romli and the Blu-ray disc includes the film, new interviews with Soavi, Everett and Falchi as well as a vintage making-of.
 
 
 
Kung Fu Panda 4 
(Dreamworks)
In the fourth chapter of this smashingly successful animated franchise, our panda hero Po (the always manically-voiced Jack Black) goes on a journey with a wily fox, Zhen (Awkwafina), that finds them facing villains from previous installments.
 
 
It’s all silly fun that’s powered by the chemistry between Black and Awkwafina and the weirdly entertaining voice cast that runs the gamut from Dustin Hoffman, Bryan Cranston and Ian MacShane to Ronny Chieng, James Hong and Viola Davis. The UHD transfer comprises eye-popping colors; extras include a new short, Dueling Dumplings, as well as deleted scenes, Meet the Cast, featurettes and a filmmaker’s commentary.
 
 
 
Blu-ray Releases of the Week
Fanny—The Other Mendelssohn 
(Mercury Studios)
Director Sheila Hayman takes a close look at Fanny Mendelssohn, an accomplished composer in her own right who was eclipsed both by an era that didn’t take women composers seriously and her brother Felix, also greatly accomplished and celebrated for his symphonies and chamber music.
 
 
Hayman shows that Fanny was as equally masterly as Felix, but the demands of her marriage (despite husband Wilhelm being totally supportive) and 19th century misogyny held her back. There’s a subplot of sorts in which scholar Angela Mace resurrects Fanny’s “Easter” piano sonata, originally attributed to Felix but now considered one of her summit achievements, more than 150 years after her untimely death of a stroke at age 41. (Felix died six months later, also of a stroke.) There’s first-rate video and audio.
 
 
 
Io Capitano 
(Cohen Media Group)
In Italian director Matteo Garrone’s intense—if manipulative—drama, Senegalese teens Seydou (Seydou Sarr) and Moussa (Moustapha Fall) take what little funds they have to try to get to Europe, little realizing the horrors that await them. They are captured, separated and tortured in Libya, abandoned but reunited in North Africa, and finally arrive via the Mediterranean in southern Italy—but only when 16-year-old novice Seydou must pilot the boat filled with dozens of migrants.
 
 
Garrone captures the humanity of these people desperate for a new start alongside the inhumanity of many others. Manipulation and contrivance notwithstanding, Io Capitano is superior filmmaking, with a staggeringly moving final shot of Seydou, the face of non-actor Sarr going through so many conflicting emotions that he should have won every award there is. The Blu-ray image looks fantastically sharp; extras include Q&As with Garrone, Fall and Sarr as well as Mamadou Kouassi, whose story inspired the film.
 
 
 
CD Release of the Week
Gabriel Fauré—Song Cycles 
(Harmonia Mundi)
A master of intimately scaled works, French composer Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924) was at his absolute best writing mélodies, or song settings, which he returned to throughout his long and varied composing career. This new disc of several of his masterly song cycles is sung by baritone Stéphane Degout with modest but supreme elegance, perfect for these jewels of vocal music.
 
 
There’s the towering cycle La Bonne Chanson, set to Paul Verlaine poems and a highlight of the composer’s middle period, and the trio of late cycles—Le Jardin clos, Mirages and the magnificent closer, L'Horizon chimérique—are also expressively performed. Pianist Alain Planès is not only a sublime accompanist throughout but also shows off his own Fauré chops in a passionate reading of the great F-sharp major Ballade. 

First Night of Orchestra of St. Luke’s Bach Festival

Photo by Jennifer Taylor

At Zankel Hall on the night of Tuesday, June 4th, I had the exceptional privilege to attend this year’s superb first concert of the annual Orchestra of St. Luke’s Bach Festival, under the outstanding direction of conductor and harpsichordist, Jeannette Sorrell.

The program began marvelously with a fabulous account of the still astonishing if inordinately popular Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Major, BWV 1048. The initial Allegro moderato movement is exultant, even breezy, while the ensuing, very brief Adagio was contrastingly solemn, and the concluding Allegro is also effervescent and energetic. This was followed by the serious, extraordinary Sinfonia from the cantata, Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen, BWV 12, featuring the impressive oboist Melanie Feld.

The outstanding soprano Joélle Harvey then joined the musicians for a brilliant realization of the incandescent cantata, Jauchzet Gott In Allen Landen, BWV 51, which ended the first half of the event. The opening Aria is celebratory in character and the succeeding recitative, “Wir beten zu dem Tempel an,” is an unusually beautiful example of that genre. Another aria, the glorious “Höchster, mache deine Güte,” is sung with only continuo accompaniment, and the work finishes with a joyous chorale, “Sei Lob und Preis mit Ehren,” that transitions to an exhilarating Alleluia, with the trumpet indelibly played by Kevin Cobb.

The second part of the evening started unforgettably with Harvey performing two arias from the monumental St. John Passion, BWV 245: the exquisite, cheerful “Ich folge dir gleichfalls,” and “Zerfliesse,” which was powerful , elegiac, magnificent, and exalting. These preceded another splendid Sinfonia; it was from the cantata, Himmelskönig, sei wilkommen, BWV 182. The concert closed stunningly with an entrancing version of the awesome Brandenburg Concerto No. 4 in G Major, BWV 1049. The beginning Allegro is lively, while the slow movement—a somber Andante—recalls those of the concerti by Antonio Vivaldi, and the Presto finale is vibrant, indeed dazzling.

These superior artists deservedly received an enthusiastic ovation.

Philadelphia Orchestra Performs Ravel

Photo by Chris Lee

At Carnegie Hall’s Stern Auditorium, on the night of Friday, May 31st, I had the privilege of attending a splendid concert presented by the remarkable musicians of the Philadelphia Orchestra, confidently conducted by its irrepressible Artistic Director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin

The event began strongly with a fully engaging account of Maurice Ravel’s wonderful Piano Concerto in G Major—completed in 1931—dazzlingly played by the celebrated soloist, Mitsuko Uchida. Ravel said, in a 1932 interview with an English newspaper:

I frankly admit that I am an admirer of jazz, and I think it is bound to influence modern music. It is not just some passing phase, but has come to stay. It is thrilling and inspiring, and I spend many hours listening to it in night clubs and over the wireless.

In a very useful program note by Christopher H. Gibbs, he provides some valuable background on the work:

Ravel’s interest in jazz had grown during a successful 1928 tour of America, during which he had chances to hear more of it in New Orleans and New York, where he met George Gershwin. Soon after returning to Paris he began writing the G-Major Concerto, some ideas for which date back more than a decade. The project was interrupted, however, by an attractive commission from the Viennese pianist Paul Wittgenstein (older brother of the great philosopher), who had lost his right hand in the First World War and sought out leading composers, including Richard Strauss, Prokofiev, Hindemith, and Britten, to write pieces for left hand alone. In this way Ravel found himself composing two concertos, both jazz influenced.

Ravel intended the G-Major Concerto as a vehicle for his own performances as a pianist and announced plans to take it on an extended tour across Europe, to North and South America, and Asia. Ultimately, health problems forced him to cede the solo spotlight to Marguerite Long, to whom he dedicated the piece. Ravel assumed instead the role of conductor at the very successful premiere in Paris in January 1932, part of a festival of his music. Against the recommendations of his doctors, the two then took the concerto on a four-month tour to 20 cities, and also recorded it.

Ravel felt the genre of the concerto “should be lighthearted and brilliant and not aim at profundity or at dramatic effects.” On several occasions, he alluded to a famous review of Brahms, saying that the great German’s “principle about a symphonic concerto was wrong, and the critic who said that he had written a ‘concerto against the piano’ was right.” 

He adds:

Ravel acknowledged finding his models in concertos by Mozart and Saint-Saëns: “This is why the Concerto, which I originally thought of entitling Divertissement, contains the three customary parts: The initial Allegro, a compact classical structure, is followed by an Adagio … [and] to conclude, a lively movement in Rondo form.”

The remarkably jazzy Allegramente movement—much of it has a brisk rhythm—is playful and effervescent, but with more introspective—even moody, and sometimes lyrical—passages, strongly recalling the music of George Gershwin—especially Rhapsody in Blue—and it includes an ethereal cadenza for the harp as it approaches its spirited—even triumphant—end. Gibbs records that “Ravel said the utterly contrasting Adagio was inspired by the slow movement of Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet,” and it—the most exquisite of the movements—is meditative and song-like, closing quietly. Its solo piano opening has a not distant resemblance to the compositions for the same instrument by Erik Satie and the scoring recalls that of Claude Debussy’s masterly orchestration of the Gymnopédie No. 1. Ravel here employs advanced harmonies even as the music acquires an almost neo-Baroque character. The Presto finale is brash, virtuosic, satiric, and propulsive, concluding suddenly and forcefully. Abundant applause elicited a delightful—if very brief—encore from the pianist: Robert Schumann’s lovely "Aveu" from his Carnaval, Op. 9.

The memorable second half of the evening commenced with the compelling New York premiere performance of Valerie Coleman’s impressive, colorfully scored Concerto for Orchestra, “Renaissance,” co-commissioned by this ensemble. The composer said the following about it:

The Concerto for Orchestra, “Renaissance,” is centered on honoring and reflecting upon the Great Migration and the Harlem Renaissance. Within the Great Migration, my focus has been upon writing music based on the reaction of hope in discovering one’s freedom, and on life within the discovery of a new life and land.

Within this, I tie the sounds of Appalachia to deep southern bluegrass, to honor future generations: my own roots of growing up in Kentucky and my mother’s roots of growing up in Mississippi.

The Harlem Renaissance reflects upon elements of the great big bands and “Le Jazz Hot,” to commemorate expat luminaries such as Langston Hughes, Duke Ellington, Josephine Baker, Paul Robeson, and many others. There are short bursts of “features” for just about every section within the orchestra, with a nod to the principal players, whom I’ve admired greatly.

The first movement, entitled “American Odyssey,” has a lofty quality and is imbued with dance rhythms and demotic elements—it finishes abruptly and powerfully. The next movement, “Portraits,” starts dramatically but is largely impressionistic and it, as well as the finale, “Cotton Club Juba,” becomes more turbulent and suspenseful until the piece’s emphatic close. Coleman was present in the audience to receive the audience’s acclaim.

The true highlight of the concert, along with the Ravel slow movement, was a sterling realization of what is arguably Claude Debussy’s supreme and most intricate masterwork, La mer, completed in 1905. In another excellent program note, Byron Adams recounts the following: 

In a letter to André Messager dated September 12, 1903, Claude Debussy announced, “I am working on three symphonic sketches entitled: 1. ‘Calm Sea around the Sanguinaires Islands’; 2. ‘Play of the Waves’; 3. ‘The Wind Makes the Sea Dance’; the whole to be titled La mer.” In a rare burst of autobiography, he then confided, “You’re unaware, maybe, that I was intended for the noble career of a sailor and have only deviated from that path thanks to the quirks of fate. Even so, I have retained a sincere devotion to the sea.” Debussy points out to Messager the irony that he is working on his musical seascape in landlocked Burgundy, but declares, “I have innumerable memories, and those, in my view, are worth more than a reality which, charming as it may be, tends to weigh too heavily on the imagination.”

He adds:

Writing shortly after the premiere of La mer, the critic Louis Laloy noted, “In each of these three episodes … [Debussy] has been able to create enduringly all the glimmerings and shifting shadows, caresses and murmurs, gentle sweetness and fiery anger, seductive charm and sudden gravity contained in those waves which Aeschylus praised for their ‘smile without number.’”

The opening movement, “From Dawn to Midday at Sea,” has an understated urgency with Oriental echoes but becomes livelier—even grand—with a stirring conclusion, while the succeeding movement, “Play of the Waves,” is ludic, evocative, dynamic as well as reflective, ending softly. The last movement, “Dialogue of the Wind and the Sea,” which begins portentously, is agitated and tempestuous, sometimes anticipating Igor Stravinsky’s The Firebird and The Rite of Spring, finishing ecstatically.

The artists deservedly garnered an enthusiastic ovation.

Broadway Play Review—Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” with Steve Carell

Uncle Vanya
Written by Anton Chekhov, adapted by Heidi Schreck
Directed by Lila Neugebauer
Performances through June 23, 2024
Vivian Beaumont Theatre, 150 West 65th Street, New York, NY
lct.org
 
Steve Carell and Alison Pill in Uncle Vanya (photo: Marc J. Franklin)
 
As unclassifiable as his other masterpieces—The Cherry Orchard, The Seagull and Three Sisters—Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya moves freely between laughter and tears, between comedy and tragedy. 
 
Uncle Vanya revolves around the middle-aged title character, a mediocrity who has been forgotten by everybody and who has pretty much nothing to show for his nearly half-century of life except the avid devotion of his plain niece Sonia, herself the doormat daughter of elderly professor Alexander, now married to the beautiful—and much younger—Yelena. Vanya unabashedly adores the lively Yelena, but she only, often teasingly, considers him a friend. Then there’s Astrov, the dashing country doctor, who frequents Alexander’s estate that Vanya and Sofya sweat blood and tears to keep profitable; he might be able to pry Yelena away from her suffocating marriage. 
 
The above paragraph makes Chekhov’s plot sound like a mere soap opera, but there’s so much variety and vitality in his exquisitely-written characters—including making Astrov one of the first real environmentalists to grace the stage—that melodrama is kept permanently at bay. Because of its enormous subtlety, Uncle Vanya rarely makes it to the stage convincingly: the last time I saw it in New York, in Austin Pendleton’s 2009 off-Broadway production, it flickered to life only occasionally; and while Lila Neugebauer’s new staging at Lincoln Center Theater has its effective moments, it too ultimately misses the mark. 
 
One problem is that Chekhov’s tightrope walk between the tragic and the comic is best conveyed on a small stage so that the audience is close to and invested in these flawed, all-too-human characters. But the Vivian Beaumont’s thrust stage hampers Neugebauer and set designer Mimi Lien, who populate the set with pieces of furniture, tables and chairs strewn about, while a huge projection of a forest takes encompasses the back wall. Although much of the action is up front, some scenes are played out further back, lessening their impact. There are bits of visual beauty thanks to Neugebauer and her crack design team—in addition to Lien, there are lighting designers Lap Chi Chu and Elizabeth Harper as well as costumer Kaye Voyce—but even something as clever as a rainstorm drenching star Steve Carell just lays the metaphorical misery on a bit too thickly.
 
Heidi Shreck’s adaptation updates the play by adding a few unnecessary F-bombs and stripping it of its essential Russianness, which for the most part doesn’t hamper it very much but neither does it make it more relatable or, God help us, modern. Neugebauer’s cast follows suit, a mixed bag of acting styles that has a couple gems amid more unfocused portrayals.
 
Anika Noni Rose’s vivacious Yelena has a boisterousness that can’t entirely hide her tearful countenance, while Alfred Molina is having so much fun as the cranky, lively old Alexander that it’s contagious. Conversely—and surprisingly—William Jackson Harper makes Astrov a weirdly jumpy bunch of nerves, his dialogue coming out in torrents that are at odds with what Chekhov has written, making it difficult to see what draws Yelena to him. 
 
Carell’s Vanya, while too subdued—Carell sometimes fades too easily into the background, too obviously underlining Vanya’s wasted life—uses the actor’s hangdog looks to visualize such a weary soul. By far the best performance comes from Alison Pill, whose Sonia is wonderfully alive and piercingly plain; she speaks the final heartbreaking but hopeful speech without a trace of affectation. 
 
But even that final silence between Pill and Carell can’t rescue this intermittently touching Uncle Vanya; Chekhov’s illuminating portrait of people trudging on with life despite their despair once again deserves better.

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