I had been wanting to see Los Abrazos since like 2008, or whenever it was listed on Wikipedia as Pedro Almodòvar‘s new project. That little wikiblurb was so enticing, because it promised both an homage to American noir and another start turn for Penelope Cruz.  I followed the progressive openings of the film as it made waves in Spain, France, across Europe and seemingly everywhere else except the US, my anticipation mounting and my expectations reaching monumental proportions.  By the time I finally got to see it, the movie actual move itself could only be a disappointment because it could never live up to the masterpiece that I had created in my mind.

And yet, it did.  This might be my favorite Almodòvar film, but I think I say that after every one that I watch.  But seriously, this one has everything you want from the man, from the luscious color palette to the engrossing plot twists and characterization to the near constant dialogue with cinematic history (including the history of Almodòvar’s own films!).

Plus it’s a killer score, which I already mentioned in an earlier post.  But now, just for the sake of comparison let’s look at Abrazos v. Inglorious Basterds, the two most recent offerings by two of the cinema world’s supposedly great auteurs.  Juxtaposed thus, it just becomes so obvious that Pedro is the way more serious filmmaker than Quentin Tarantino.  And I don’t just mean that his films are “serious” and Quentin’s are not – certainly both have aspects of humor and gravitas.  What I mean is that for two writer/directors who load their works with cinematic references, Pedro is the one able to seamlessly interweave his commentaries into the structure of the film, whereas Quentin handles the whole meta level with total heavy-handedness.

As for Nine, let’s just say thanks to Maury Yeston and Rob Marshall for making something not only palatable but actually ENTERTAINING out of Fellini’s 8 1/2.  Only the most extremely loyal of readers will know that I do not much go in for that particular film.  But when you mix in some peppy songs and a little pornographic choreography (,and of course stir,) the whole thing really comes to life!  Who knew?  Anyway, Penelope Cruz continues to amaze:

PLUS, the editing of Nine by Marshall & co. was featured on a very special episode of Barefoot Contessa.  Who wouldn’t like that?

This is just a guess, but I suspect that it’s probably the old-timers in the orchestra who oppose the contract that’s on the table right now (5% salary reduction this year, restored next year, 2.5% increase in two years).  Back in the Szell days, Cleveland took an immense civic pride in its orchestra and treated the musicians as minor celebrities, certainly a rare thing for orchestra players.  It’s conceivable that anyone who lived through that period might be unwilling to face up to current social and economic realities.  But what a shame that they would have to deprive a hard-working bunch of student musicians of their expertise and inspiration.

Supposedly, we’ll find out late tonight or early tomorrow whether or not they actually plan to come (the rumor mill has it that they won’t), but either way, the whole affair leaves me with a sour taste.

PLUS, they’d also be depriving us of a chance to hear Thomas Adès’ Violin Concerto, which is I think one of the greatest pieces of the past decade.

“Selon le caractère d’un Recitativ mais, in tempo”

My interest in this simple phrase is a perfect example of why I don’t exactly “fit in” to the classical music world.  That is to say, I just don’t think the people around me quite appreciate the linguistic deliciousness of the writing.  Look at it!  It’s basically in French, but with a Germanized (and capitalized, no less) Italian word, ending in an Italian phrase.  And what’s that comma doing there?  Shouldn’t it read “…Recitativ, mais in tempo?”  Is that some kind of a linguistic marker?  What’s going on here??

I suppose the fact that nobody blinks an eye when they see this marking is maybe just as interesting.  Musicians, and I want to say especially conductors, end up talking in this weird sort of lingua franca made up of terms from all the big musical languages.  I guess this just proves that the tendency has been around for close to 200 years.

Is this sort of thing not interesting?  Leonard Slatkin brought up this term in my conducting class the other day, but all he wanted to talk about was how to interpret these words musically!  I really wanted to get into this whole linguistic commentary, but somehow it seemed so totally inappropriate; thus was my enthusiasm stifled.

On a wholly unrelated note, it came out today that I am an unapologetic disliker of Federico Fellini’s 8 1/2 and you would think I had insulted somebody’s baby.  Just because half of my lunch mates were Italian, I don’t see what there is to get so excited about.  It’s not like I dissed Sergio Leone or something.  In fact, I’d gladly take a Spaghetti Western over that cerebral FF crap any day.  And I take offense to the immediate supposition that I somehow “don’t understand what it’s about”.  I understand perfectly well.  In fact, I would say I gave that movie every chance — I researched it, read about it, stayed awake during (most) of it.  What more do you want people?  It just doesn’t resonate with me.

Give me Pedro any day.