Sleeper Cell: Romeo and Juliet (1966)

Aug 132010

Ok, so we‚Äôve been running this little SLEEPER CELL section of the Mediabreach for going on eight months now, so it‚Äôs probably a little late for an introduction. Still, here I am. Hello, my name is Zack, and I love movies. (Everybody, let‚Äôs welcome Zack to the group. Group response (smiling, but not too excited): Hi, Zack.)

But big deal, right? I mean, if you‚Äôre actually visiting this site on anything even remotely resembling a regular basis, you probably love movies too. So what leads an otherwise completely unmotivated, dead-end rat-racer to take a few hours out of each week to watch a movie and then write up a couple thousand words on what he thought was good or bad about it?

For me, it‚Äôs story.

When the revolution comes, and my lack of survival training gets my brains blown out by someone hungrier than I am, nothing will matter anymore. When you‚Äôre burning the Complete Works of William Shakespeare, because if you don‚Äôt, you‚Äôll freeze to death, what does any of this matter? I don‚Äôt know. like I said, my head will be exploded. But until then, there‚Äôs shit to do.

Jesus Christ's bananas

I love movies for the same reason I love that we send grade-schoolers on stages in ridiculous costumes to re-enact the first Thanksgiving, or the birth of Jesus or the burning of witches at the stake in colonial Massachusetts. These are stories that are inextricably linked to the development of our society. And more than just a way to embarrass children, they‚Äôre a way to indoctrinate the ideas that we believe are important into our youth. Which isn‚Äôt necessarily a horrible thing. Indoctrination leads to the universal love of people slipping on banana peels and the opinion that stabbing people is bad. This is our art. This is what we have.

And we recognize that there is great art and lesser art. Because we’re douchebags and we have to say that this one thing is better than than that something else. I don‚Äôt feel I‚Äôm going out on a limb when I say things like NFL Football is awesome and soccer sucks.¬† Or New York City rocks; Beamont does not. But I say all these movies are valid, and we don’t need to act like stupid comedies are a waste of time. Still, there are some pieces that we all feel we can acknowledge are that little bit extra. No, not necessarily¬†”better” or more important. Just that they have a staying power and an ability to connect with a diverse audience. So that in the end, we have great art like Gone with the Wind and 2001: A Space Odyssey, and then we have great art like¬†Super Troopers¬†and Crank 2: High Voltage. And then we have great art like Romeo and Juliet.

In my review of the comedy performance The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged), I dogged on Romeo and Juliet for being a silly, over-the-top, romanticized story based on teenage romance. And it is. But it’s also one of the greatest stories we’ve (I claim it by proxy) ever told. There’s no denying its staying power. A pair of beautiful heroes who find love at first sight and are doomed from the first second is an incredibly compelling drama. And being as how our entire culture knows this story¬†through the¬†quill of William Shakespeare, having a 2 hour wordless rendition can be a stretch for us. Especially when the narrative strays away from Willie’s script. In the end though, Shakespeare only wrote an adaptation of the story. And all the ballets and operas written between then and now have likewise been interpretations of the Romeo/Juliet storyline. Besides, Shakespeare no doubt jazzed things up a bit when he adapted Arthur Brooke’s “The Tragicall Historye of Romeus and Juliet.” And now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Holy shit! Shakespeare’s a biter?!” Yep.

A Short History of Romeo and Juliet
Matteo Bandello was born near Piedmont, Italy around 1840. Smart guy, well-educated. Life did what it does, and he fled his home in Milan because of war and laid down roots in the small town of Agen in southern France. To sum up quickly, Bandello wrote stories in the style of Giovanni Boccaccio’s Decameron (“Decameron” sounds impressive, but it’s¬† really just a large collection of 100 stories that feature sexy tales of loooove – even medieval (or possibly, especially) Italians loved them some raunch), and one of Bandello’s stories was about two lovers from warring families called “Giulietta e Romeo.” Then, about a hundred years later in 1562, Arthur Brooke gave the novella a poetic translation, and embellished the title. Shakespeare finished his version of the story about 30 years later – which in its publication in 1623 as part of the First Folio is called The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet (with “Juliet” in tiny tiny letters) – and Shakespeare would most likely have been familiar with both Brooke’s translation and the original Italian text, and then added his own blend of iambic spices to create the masterpiece we recognize today.

And here’s where I run into the problem into which I always seem to run: isn’t this supposed to be a MOVIE review?? And yeah. Sorta. Really I’m just stalling for as long as possible before I drop this bombshell: I know next to nothing about ballet. The cool thing is, I’m betting most of you don’t either. So there. Like most people (I think) I’ve been bored to tears by Swan Lake, and as a kid, I liked watching a dude in a rat costume dance around with a sword on Christmas morning in The Nutcracker. And (thanks to So¬†You Think You Can Dance) I know a “Pas de Deux” is when our on-stage lovers dance together for the first time.¬†That’s about my extent. But I have heard the name Rudolf Nureyev. Nureyev (who portrays Romeo here) is one of the greatest dancers of the 20th century. And watching him, it’s easy to believe. His Juliet is the English ballerina Dame Margot Fonteyn de Arias. And forget the 20th century, Fonteyn is considered one of the greatest classical dancers of all time. An obvious dream team. So yeah, I know next to nothing about ballet. I figure, if I watch a dance and go “Meh,” then it’s not that great, but if I watch it, and it makes me say, “Damn dude,” then there’s something there. And this performance makes me say “Damn” a lot.

But let’s get something out of the way¬†early. (early?) All the dudes wear tight pants. It’s what ya do. And their thighs, aces and packages have all come to play. But if you’ve come here for codpiece humor, you’ll be disappointed. So let’s all take a breath together and get academic about this.

Junk

A Short History of the Penis (teehee!)
The earliest examples of male nudity on film were created by the Scrabble-cheating English photographer Eadweard Muybridge in the 1880s. Muybridge was studying animal motion and is responsible for the first series of photographs that explained the mechanics of animals in motion. But it’s all very sterile (get it?). While erotic cinema has been popular since the advent of motion picture cameras, they featured nude women only. The earliest being Le Coucher de la Marie (Bedtime for the Bride) featuring the first on-screen strip-tease. The first time we see a penis in sexual operation, is in the American film (I would’ve bet money it was the Frenchies) A Free Ride (1915). It’s the oldest known pornographic movie and began the practice of employing an incredibly thin plot that has remained a hallmark of blue movies into the 21st century. Directed by A. Wise Guy, A Free Ride tells the tale of a well-to-do motorist who picks up two female hitchhiker’s and boffs them. The director (along with his (or her) cinematographer Will B. Hard and their title director Will She) remained anonymous due to the complete illegality of sexually explicit film. There. Got it out of your system?

And while the narration does stray a bit from Shakespeare, all the great scenes are present and accounted for. There’s no thumb-biting per se, but there’s a good body-count after the initial scuffle. Romeo and his buds Benvolio and Mercutio crash the Capulet party wearing masks (no one will ever know it’s them!) Clark-Kent-style. (Ah, but Tybalt recognizes ol’ Merky. I swear, if Tybalt worked at the Daily Planet, Kal-El would’ve been screwed, and Tybalt would have to be destroyed anyway.) Then there’s¬†the balcony¬†scene – complete with an extremely convenient staircase – where Nureyev and Fonteyn dance their Pas de Deux. And the music playing over the death of Tybalt will take what you know about classical music, squish it into a little ball of disgrace and boot it forever from you mind. There are only a few really great superlatives in the English language, and I use and re-use them over and re-over again: awesome, incredible, amazing, mind-blowing, outstanding, et cetera¬†- take your pick.

Sergei Prokofiev looking extremely Russian

This version of the ballet is set to music by the great Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev (who also wrote the children’s classic “Peter and the Wolf”). And the music steals the show. I actually became interested in this ballet because of the music. During my research for this review, I read several opinions of the¬†performance that went off into intensely flowery language regarding Nureyev and Fonteyn’s dancing (which is well-deserved) but tossed in as a throw-away a line here or there saying that Prokofiev’s music is “great of course.” Which is honestly better than nothing, but c’mon. It’s the whole reason this show succeeds. I could also go on and on about Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s outstanding choreography. It’s beautiful and when the daggers get happy, the steps get uber-intricate.

But I dare you to put this DVD on and hit MUTE. The dancing is still amazing and the choreography is undeniably great, but it looks ridiculous. Now de-mutify your television, and close your eyes. The dancing is gone, but the music is still mind-blowing. Prokofiev lived the majority of his life in Russia as a greatly respected composer. He finished his score for the ballet in 1935 (he actually lived in the United States for a period in the 19-teens, and you can occasionally hear influences of George Gershwin), but it underwent rewrites to adjust his original “happy ending” (which would’ve been awesome!) and was finally performed in December 1938. And some of the music totally reminds me of Star Wars. You can’t tell me John Williams doesn’t love this stuff.

This version however, is not simply a video recording of a stage performance. This is something entirely new. With this movie, director Paul Czinner made the first feature film of a ballet filmed with all the dancers performing as they would on a normal stage. There are set-pieces like usual, and the creation of the fourth wall. This is not quite a movie adaptation of a ballet. It’s a stage performance shot and edited and cut with close-ups and staging to allow for the first time the preservation of “outstanding stage productions” for “the enjoyment of wider audiences today and as a record for posterity.” It was a brilliant idea and allowed for those of us yokels living in south Texas to be able to watch over and over again 2 of the greatest dancers the world has ever seen in their element. And despite the non-remastered transfer, it has a beautiful aesthetic. There are scratches in the film, and the color is washed out, but I say it just makes it look distinguished.

If it sounds like I’m drooling all over this video, you’re right. The music that dragged me into this viewing blew me away, and the dancing knocked me out for the count. If of course you can’t put the silly outfits aside, go ahead and skip it. Or not. You could always watch it, enjoy the music, and MST3K the hell out of it. I promise not to be offended. It’s not like I’m in it or anything. This film version of this classic ballet is really the gem of these three latest reviewed productions. And if not for a chance-hearing of some of Prokofiev’s music (performed by the San Antonio Symphony), I wouldn’t have been able to tell you anything about Sergei Prokofiev, so I’m hoping at least a few of you out there give it a shot, and maybe it’ll wrench your gut like it has mine.

Do we have a clip here? I think there’s a clip…
Here’s the intro to the Capulet party set to the most famous of the musical pieces: the supreme I’m-a-Bad-Ass-and-You’re-NOT-sounding “Dance of the Knights.”