Keanu is fun, and even sometimes outright hilarious, but it doesn’t live up to the skills of its central performers.
What do you think of while you listen to classical music? Do you have an education in music, and think of the composer's strategies, or the conductor's interpretation? Do you, in short, think in words at all? I never do, and I suppose that would make me incompetent as a music critic. I fall into a reverie state.
With some music, my thoughts simply drift, and I daydream. I'll be surprised where I end up. The music has untethered logic and freed me to go in places chosen by the music itself by obscure means. Other times, with music that is very, very familiar, I will find myself drifting into the music itself, without conscious thought at all.
Consider Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. I've heard it so many times for so many years that it creates its own self-contained reality. I haven't the slightest idea what it is "saying." It proceeds implacably, majestically, inevitably. Even those three words are irrelevant. It is. It exists. It reaches a part of me that finds it irrefutable. I am pleased that it was recorded in some permanent form and put on board an early space craft that was sent on a limitless journey beyond our solar system. If it is ever found and heard by another intelligence, I imagine it will speak to them somehow.
I have just fallen into one of my idle drifts of thought. I began with Beethoven and ended in abstraction. I betray my ignorance. I have much ignorance to betray. Readers have lectured me that I rarely discuss the music on a movie's sound track. They're right. I don't. I fear to. I don't have the vocabulary. If I say a sound track is "beautiful," what have I said, and what good did it do to say so?
I think one of the scores most perfectly suited to a movie is the zither music by Anton Karas in "The Third Man." Why do I think that? Why does it evoke the dark tilted shadows of that film--when if it were played on an accordion it might inspire jolly polka dancers? Indeed, on a PBS pledge re-run of an ancient Lawrence Walk program a few years ago, didn't I actually witness Mr. Welk dancing to "The Third Man Theme" with "the lovely little Champagne Lady, Alice Lon" while Myrin Florin smiled at them benevolently above his accordion?
The CSO has for several years produced concerts called "Friday Night at the Movies," usually involving a silent film projected on a screen above the orchestra as it plays a score. Sometimes a sound film is shown, with the music performed live; last autumn, Chaz and I saw them doing "Psycho" with the Bernard Herrmann music. The CSO invited me to join with Maestro Richard Kaufman, who has a special fondness for movie music, and program one of the Friday nights. At first I declined. I explained I didn't feel competent. But then Maestro Kaufman wrote telling me how much fun it would be, and I knew he was right. That the evening eventually became "A Tribute to Roger Ebert" was astonishing.
Chaz and I met with Maestro Kaufman, who, like many musicians, radiates a good deal of inner cheer. He'd asked me to name my five favorite composers, and the first on my list was Nino Rota, whose music embodies "The Godfather" and whose scores for Fellini have inspired me to do a blog page titled, I Could Watch a Fellini Film on the Radio. At dinner with him, I opened with a frank declaration: I did not feel competent in the area of music, and the Maestro would have to do most of the heavy lifting.
It was a magnificent evening. My thoughts did not wander as usual into fields of abstraction, because the scores were so closely associated in my mind with their movies. There is a famous story about how Alex North's score for "2001" hadn't been recorded in time for a test screening, and Stanley Kubrick put together a quick soundtrack including "The Blue Danube" and "Also Sprach Zarathustra." The music worked so well that MGM executives insisted he keep it. The North soundtrack has been recorded and is available, but let it be said Kubrick's last-minute choices were inspired.
We had box seats for the evening, and a good view of the orchestra. I had rarely seen the stage in Symphony Hall so crowded. The Maestro had augmented the full complement of the CSO with a zither player, two harmonica players, an accordion and a piano, and had added a tambourine to the percussion section. The musicians were of course superbly disciplined, but I was delighted to see a violinist briefly unable to restrain herself from nodding her head in time to the first notes of the Pink Panther theme. She quickly caught herself.
A symphony orchestra is a pinnacle of civilization. Mankind has brought forth music, found ways to notate it, devised instruments to give it sound, and found notes to express the voices of those instruments. The existence of an orchestra gives composers a meta-instrument on which their imaginations can play. Musicians at the level of the CSO must prepare themselves for a lifetime, again every day. They must have a vision of the Ideal, of the union of music, composition, instruments and listeners. They must sometimes be very happy.
This is not true only of the members of a symphony orchestra. I have known many musicians pretty well. Folk singers. Guitarists. Vocalists. Pianists. Jazz musicians. The good ones seem happy. Stories of tormented musicians are part of our folklore, but I have never to my knowledge seen a musician who was unhappy during the act of performance, and I have a pretty good eye for such things. They say we only use a small percentage of our human minds. I believe music has its best existence in those parts we do not otherwise employ. It's possible I've had my wisest and most profound thoughts while listening to Beethoven. I wouldn't know, would I?
Photo at top: Conductor Richard Kaufman and the Pacific Symphony. Photo by Kelly A. Swift, Orange County Register.
Reflections on a marriage, and what came after.
This message came to me from a reader named Peter Svensland. He and a fr...
FFC Gerardo Valero reexamines the 2015 James Bond film "Spectre" after the dust has settled.
FFC Gerardo Valero discusses the devolution of Quentin Tarantino by comparing The Hateful Eight to Pulp Fiction.