Scene of the Day: The Grapes of Wrath

The "scene of the day" comes from John Ford's 1940 masterpiece, "The Grapes of Wrath," a close adaptation of John Steinbeck's 1939 novel. When the Joads finally arrive in California and find their first Hooverville, a point-of-view tracking shot bleakly reveals the poverty and weariness surrounding them. This powerful shot, one of my favorites on film, has a documentary sensibility that seems to authenticate this cinematic story of the Great Depression. Watch it with me now.

NOTE: Unfortunately, I could not find a better clip on YouTube than the one I am posting. (The film is unavailable.) Watch this clip only from 2:08 to 2:16, and do not turn the sound on, please. I have not listened to this review, so I cannot say that it is my own opinion nor that I agree with it. I simply want you to get an image of the "scene of the day."

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Song of the Day: I'll Never Fall in Love Again

"I'll Never Fall In Love Again" is a song by Burt Bacharach and Hal David, originally written for the 1968 musical "Promises, Promises" and originally recorded as a pop song for Bacharach. Though not written specifically for a film, in 1999, the song re-appeared in "Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me" performed by Elvis Costello and Bacharach while Austin (Mike Myers) and secret agent Felicity Shagwell (Heather Graham) dance on the sidewalk. For some reason, this tune just so happened to be stuck in my head, so I thought I would share it with you, my dear readers. Enjoy.

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Quote of the Day: Pee-Wee's Big Adventure

"I know, you're right, but..." ~ Diane Salinger as Simone

"But what? Everyone I know has a big but. C'mon, Simone, let's talk about your big but." ~ Paul Reubens as childlike Pee-Wee Herman from Tim Burton's directorial debut, "Pee-Wee's Big Adventure"

*see it at the 8:04 mark*

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Random Musing/Song of the Day: In the Deep

"In the Deep" is a touching song written and performed by Bird York, which appears in the 2005 Best Picture, "Crash," and which was nominated for the Oscar for "Best Original Song" (and unfortunately lost to the underdog "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" from "Hustle and Flow"). Interestingly enough, Wikipedia informs me...

There was some question as to the song's eligibility, as it had appeared in the film "The Civilization of Maxwell Bright" as well as [Bird York's album] "The Velvet Hour," both of which were released before "Crash." However, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences determined that the song had been commissioned in 2001 or 2002 by "Crash" director Paul Haggis for use in the film, prior to its other uses; thus, it was eligible. This was likely a precedent for 2006 "Best Original Song" winner "Falling Slowly," which was also used in other media before the film it was commissioned for, "Once," was released.

This brings me to another interesting point: "Falling Slowly." Yes, I ranted about its ineligibility once, but I see how Bird York's eligibility (at least under the Academy's conditions) would serve as a "precedent." However, I now do not see "In the Deep" as eligible for "Best Original Song" because it, in fact, is apparently not as "original" as I thought. Even if Haggis had commissioned the song before its uses in other films and media, it still doesn't make the song any more "original" (read: first, new) three uses later. But oh, well.

Anyway, I did not post this song as "Song of the Day" in order to tear it to shreds, so I will leave you with it. Every time I hear it, I get chills because it is so haunting. York's hypnotic vocals and the mellow instruments in the background are enchanting and perfect for the scene in "Crash" in which they appear—the scene that unites everyone. Enjoy. (I was unable to embed this scene into my blog, but to watch it, simply click here).

UPDATE (5/23/09, 4:01 PM CST): I just received a kind note from the Webmaster of Birdyork.com! (This is a first!) Here it is:

Ben -

Thank you for your lovely comments on Bird's song IN THE DEEP. While Wiki is not completely inaccurate - it isn't exactly completely accurate regarding the origins of the song and the eligibility, either. However, that's not really why I'm dropping this line.

Your comments regarding the effect of the song are eloquent and heartfelt, and much appreciated. Thank you for taking time to highlight her work in your blog. I'm going to pass it along to her, as I know how much it will mean that it's still out there making ripples and people care enough to pass it along.

Best Regards,
webmaster
www.birdyork.com

I think it is interesting that both of us, the Webmaster and I, find the song's Oscar appeal noteworthy, but, in the end, we still come back to the effect of the song itself: pure magic. "In the Deep" is truly one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard, and it continues to give me chills every time. Coupled with the footage from "Crash," it will certainly chill you (in a good way), too.

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Quote of the Day: Airplane!

"Surely, you can't be serious!" ~ Robert Hays as Ted Striker

"I am serious... And don't call me 'Shirley.'" ~ Leslie Nielsen as Dr. Rumack in the hilarious disaster film spoof, "Airplane!"

*see it at the :09 mark*

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Song of the Day: This Used to Be My Playground

For some reason, I was just thinking of this song. "This Used to Be My Playground," which plays over the closing credits of Penny Marshall's 1992 film, "A League of Their Own," is a beautiful song written by Madonna and Shep Pettibone and, notably, the song that introduced me, way back in the day, to Madonna, my favorite singer. (I have a lot of connection to this song besides Madonna, though.) I have a great deal of attachment to the film "A League of Their Own," in general, because a good portion of it was filmed in and around my childhood hometowns of Evansville, Indiana and Henderson, Kentucky. Indeed, as Wikipedia notes:

Many game scenes were filmed at Bosse Field in Evansville, Indiana. It is the nation's third oldest ball park (and the oldest minor league ball park), and was depicted as the home of the Racine Belles. The Soaper-Esser house (built 1884-87) in which the women lived is located at 612 North Main Street in Henderson, Kentucky, and is on the historic register. The roadhouse scenes were filmed at the Hornville Tavern (2607 Baseline Rd.) in Evansville, Indiana.

Therefore, because of the nostalgic connection between my childhood and "A League of Their Own," I also have a sentimental attachment to "This Used to Be My Playground," which continues to give me chills when I listen to it.

Listen to it with me now. (I could not find the closing credits of "A League of Their Own" on YouTube, but I found Madonna's music video, which features clips from the film.)

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Random Musing: Meeting Oscar

...John Ford's third, that is. Yesterday, at Indiana University's Lilly Library, I stood one foot from it. Only a glass barrier stood between me and it, this "golden boy." Before yesterday, I had never actually seen an Oscar in person. Can you believe it? For about four years now, I have been obsessed with the Oscars, stuffing my memory to capacity with its winners and nominees, and I have never once seen an Oscar in real life. But yesterday, I became blessed enough to see what this hunk of metal—the ambition of thousands of actors, directors, producers, and others—is really like. It is as beautiful in person, I promise you. It was so beautiful that I could not take my eyes off of it. It is a moment I will never forget...

In 1941, John Ford won his third "Best Director" Oscar for "How Green Was My Valley" (following 1935's "The Informer" and 1940's "The Grapes of Wrath"). Ford won one other "Best Director" Oscar for 1952's "The Quiet Man."

Indiana University's Lilly Library is also the home to John Ford's second "Best Director" Oscar, as well as many other Hollywood treasures (including Rita Hayword's makeup case and personal articles and drafts of original screenplays, including those of the Garbo vehicle, "Anna Christie" (1930), the first "Best Picture" Oscar-winner, "Wings" (1927), and the first American "talkie," "The Jazz Singer" (1927)).

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Song of the Day: Into the West

A beautiful, touching song, "Into the West" was written by Fran Walsh, Howard Shore and Annie Lennox and sung by the latter, the former frontwoman of 80s pop/rock duo Eurythmics, over the closing credits of "The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King." According to Wikipedia:

The song was conceived as a bittersweet Elvish lament sung by Galadriel for those who have sailed across the Sundering Sea. Several phrases from the song are taken from the last chapter of "The Return of the King." In the commentaries and documentaries accompanying the extended DVD edition of the movie, director Peter Jackson explains that the song was partially inspired by the premature death from cancer of young New Zealand filmmaker Cameron Duncan, whose work had impressed Jackson and his team. The first public performance of the song was at Duncan's funeral.

"Into the West" won the Oscar for "Best Original Song" in 2003, one of the record-tying eleven Oscars ("Ben-Hur," "Titanic") won by "The Return of the King." Instead of leaving you with a clip from the film's closing credits, I shall post Annie Lennox's performance from the 76th Academy Awards ceremony.

Watch it with me now.

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Quote of the Day: The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

"That doesn't make sense to me, but then, you are very small..." ~ John Rhys-Davies as confused Treebeard the Ent, an eternal shepherd of Fangorn Forest, in "The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers"

*find it at the 3:24 mark*

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Random Musing: Anna Karenina (1935)

“Conducting” Anna’s Death: The Climactic Train Scene in “Anna Karenina” (1935)

Clarence Brown’s 1935 Hollywood adaptation of “Anna Karenina,” starring Greta Garbo, ignores the novelistic implications of Anna’s death by instating a new reason—as film scholar Irina Makoveeva indicates (pg. 56), “it is because of her unwillingness to free Vronsky the officer.” Anna’s death is, then, because of her attempt to defy patriarchal order. Therefore, as she watches Vronsky depart the train station for the Serbian War, she is wearing all black, a significant marker of death, hers being impending because of the “rules” of the “adultery myth” and because of her transgression against patriarchal order. In fact, it seems that in the way the train that takes Anna’s life is a force that is conducted, the train scene at the end of her life is also “conducted” by the score and sound effects (in conjunction with editing, framing, and performance). In essence, the tapping of the railway worker’s hammer puts him in control of the tempo of the music and the editing, so he is like the “conductor” of the cinematic “orchestra” leading to Anna’s demise. Thus, his role as the “musical conductor” fulfills the omen early in the novel (and film) that the railway worker’s death foreshadows Anna’s similar death. Basically, Anna’s “conducted” death, the film implies, is a result of forces far more powerful than her.

The climactic train scene takes place late one evening while Anna sits alone in the station, a small figure in the foreground while the omnipotent train stretches across the background. It is at this point that viewers recognize how insignificant Anna is in comparison to the huge train that will engineer her doom. Meanwhile, a railway worker taps the wheels and hitches of the train to check their soundness. Harp music plays non-diegetically, a sound that generally indicates something strange is “in the air.” In addition, it could be interpreted as “warming up” or “tuning,” as in the harps are preparing to begin the “orchestral movement” that will culminate abruptly with Anna’s impending death. The next shot is a medium one of Anna sitting expressionless listening to the hammering of the railway worker, which could be interpreted as the “conductor tapping his baton,” readying the “orchestra.” Anna’s eyes dash to the off-screen right, and viewers get a point-of-view shot as she studies the railway worker continuing his work on the train. The reaction shot is a medium-long shot of Anna still watching, her curiosity piqued. She slowly rises and walks towards the railway worker while a tracking shot follows her. In the score, the strings have been joined by trumpets, which have entered with steady quarter notes to signify the growing tension. The music begins to speed up as Anna goes to her mark on the platform. Another medium-long shot reveals the railway worker walking briskly around the train, continuing to tap the wheels and hitches, “keeping time,” while Anna looks down into the space between the two cars at which he had originally been standing. The next shot is a medium-close-up, point-of-view shot of that space—smoke billows out from under the car while the train whistles and the bell clings off-screen. The bell not only signifies the beginning of the train’s movement but also denotes the beginning of the next “musical movement” that will culminate with Anna’s demise. The next shot is of Anna peering down into the hole with her eyes betraying a look of desire. The music is continuing to speed up. From here, crosscutting reveals the train starting to move—a close-up shot shows the whistle going off again, and another close-up shows the train conductor’s hand moving. In fact, the conductor himself is basically anonymous—the conductor’s hand might as well be “the hand of fate” in action. The camera returns to a close-up of the train’s wheels continuing to move. The music is beginning to grow louder and louder as the wheels chug along, and the railway worker—the “conductor”—clanks steadily faster and faster off-screen, accelerating the tempo. The purpose of the speed is to underline how overwhelming and inescapable Anna’s fate is. The trumpets’ musical triplets, which, in effect, imitate the circular nature of the train wheels turning and, thus, the inevitability of Anna’s fate, are also growing louder in pitch and faster in tempo. Anna watches the wheels go around and around as the railway worker’s “conducting” makes the music and the crosscutting between the images of Anna and the wheels on the tracks grow ever faster. The music continues accelerating thanks to the tempo of the railway worker’s quickening hammering, and finally, a medium shot lingers on Anna as she suddenly leaps under the train in the off-screen right. The instruments in the score, especially the trumpets, sustain a screeching whole note during Anna’s leap—a sound that sustains the shock of the moment for audiences. Just as quickly as they built, the music and the rapid editing disappear immediately afterward, and the clanging ends abruptly with a different tone, as though the “conductor” has signaled the “orchestra” to stop with the sound of a dropped “baton” or “drumstick” (being that his hammer sounds more like that of a drummer’s stick than that of a baton, although the maestro uses a baton in his conduction). The scene concludes with the illuminated train chugging quietly into the night accompanied only by the sound of its whistle.

The tension built by the combination of music and sound effects (along with editing, framing, and performance) has done its job to see that Anna goes under the train to her fate. The railway worker, whose death foreshadows Anna’s death in Tolstoy’s novel, plays the role of “conductor,” ironically “conducting” the tempo of the score that will reflect the tension building until Anna’s death, just like a train conductor takes control of the train under which Anna’s life will be extinguished. In addition, everything about the train implies the idea of fate—for example, the anonymous hand of the conductor symbolizes “the hand of fate,” mapping the destiny of Anna the adulteress. Also, as the sound of the railway worker’s off-screen hammering “conducts” the tempo for the score, the repeated triplets of the trumpets reveal circularity much like the turning of wheels and indicate a propensity toward destiny. Therefore, the film’s score at the climactic train scene—a force greater than Anna, especially because it is external and off-screen—“orchestrates” the adulteress’ inevitable death.

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