Ok, Meaghan stole my title.
Disclaimer: this was one of my favorite movies when I was about twelve and it was one of the first movies I ever bought for myself. Having said that, I think it's pretty cool to see the movie from my 12-year old standpoint, and then again 10 years later.
I capitalized the word game in my title, because that's what I think this story/film is: a political game, with Sid and Babe as the key players. The literally do a "song and dance" around each other and the issue of the 7 1/2 cent raise. When Sid first asks Babe out, she says no, and explains that her reasoning is simple: he is the superintendent and she is the grievance committee. It can't work. Later on, in the midst of the "Small Talk" number, Babe again pleads with Sid because she is scared that the strike will come between them. She's right. I like the addition of the scene where Sid fires Babe. She took a big risk jamming the line in the factory, and as the superintendent, Sid had every right to fire her. If felt as if Babe tried to play the odds, and in that instance, failed.
I know we haven't discussed it in class, but I think it's also interesting to look at the changes from the Broadway musical to the film. Censorship is obviously an aspect of adaptation for this film. In the song, "I'm Not At All in Love," Babe's line is changed from "All you gotta do is be polite with him, and they've got you spending the night with him," to the film's version, "All you gotta do it seems is work for him, and they've gotcha going berserk for him." It seems that the original Broadway version of that line would fit better with the original novel. There are also some small changes due to language. In "Small Talk," the line "What do you think they charge for ham now? Got so a buck ain't worth a damn now," is changed to "What do you think they charge for fruit now? Got so a buck ain't worth a hoot now." One of the most interesting changes to me, however, is that Prez, the president of the Union, has a larger role in the show. He has his own storyline in which he tries to woo Gladys, Hasler's secretary. There was a slight hint of it in the film when he says something like, "Her is the most beautiful girl" to Gladys while at Hernando's Hideaway (amazing number when seen live). "Her Is" is an number in the show that is sung in the first act and reprised in the second. So I am curious if Prez's storyline was cut because he was just a secondary character, or that giving him more screen time would thus give the union more screen time.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
seeing red
after reviewing the cover art of the new printing of the novel, i was constantly thinking of color in the film, and in particular, red. it's all about red in the pajama game–if you look carefully (or even not that carefully), in almost every scene there are both dominant and subtle elements of red scattered throughout. i started making a list and had to stop because there were so many, but here are a few:
• red dresses, skirts, and ribbons on the girls of the factory
• babe's red shoes and the red piping on her blue coat
• red heart buttons (part of the union?)
• red in the factory lights, exit signs, pipes, and giant spools of thread
• sid's red bowtie in the opening scene, his red striped shirt at the picnic
the most important symbol of red came during babe's reprise of "hey there," in which she sings about her inner conflict over sid. she tells herself to get over him and not to "let him make her fall apart." when she gets to the word "pride," the traffic light outside her window flashes to angry red, coloring her bedroom and her body in red light as she lies on her bed.
is that what red is about? pride? it reinforces the proud, standoffish image of babe on the cover of the novel, flashy red dress and staring in self-absorption into her compact mirror. and it makes sense that in the end, this is what she sacrifices in order to be with sid, and in order to win the "7 1/2 cents" even when they can't get retroactive pay for it ("but don't you see? we've won!").
and what do sid and babe come out in at the end of the musical? one shared pair of red pajamas.
• red dresses, skirts, and ribbons on the girls of the factory
• babe's red shoes and the red piping on her blue coat
• red heart buttons (part of the union?)
• red in the factory lights, exit signs, pipes, and giant spools of thread
• sid's red bowtie in the opening scene, his red striped shirt at the picnic
the most important symbol of red came during babe's reprise of "hey there," in which she sings about her inner conflict over sid. she tells herself to get over him and not to "let him make her fall apart." when she gets to the word "pride," the traffic light outside her window flashes to angry red, coloring her bedroom and her body in red light as she lies on her bed.
is that what red is about? pride? it reinforces the proud, standoffish image of babe on the cover of the novel, flashy red dress and staring in self-absorption into her compact mirror. and it makes sense that in the end, this is what she sacrifices in order to be with sid, and in order to win the "7 1/2 cents" even when they can't get retroactive pay for it ("but don't you see? we've won!").
and what do sid and babe come out in at the end of the musical? one shared pair of red pajamas.
The Pajama Party (edit at end)
OK, so I stole that from Rachael. But it's true; the end of the film kind of does turn into a big pajama party. The whole film is pretty much a pajama party. Like the story, none of the things that happen in the movie seem dire -- except for maybe Hines throwing knives. And I noticed that the film did try to create more of a conflict by having Sid fire Babe, but even that seemed to be fixed pretty quickly and easily at the end. And like Professor Newman said in class, the same thing happens at the end of the story.
Watching the film, I wondered how its creators were first inspired to turn the story into a musical. I mean, it didn't really scream song and dance numbers when I read it. But Sid does have a really heavy view of love in the story; he talks about how Babe makes everything totally fantastic, and the language he used to describe being in love was really different from his otherwise sarcastic voice. Like I said yesterday, though, I didn't really find the story that funny. But I think that the tone of the novel gave itself to the kind of raunchy humor that was displayed in the film, and Sid's view of love - yeah, when he wasn't being a pseudo-rapist - was represented in the love songs.
I also noticed that Doris Day's hair wasn't red, which was disappointing, because Sid called Babe "the redhead" in the story. But like I told Agatha, I think it's petty when people think a character's ruined just because the hair color's changed. At the same time, though, hair color has always meant a lot to me when reading about a character; it says something about their personality, about who they are. But I liked Doris Day as Babe. And to be honest, I didn't think that Sid seemed that operatic -- beyond his singing voice and that he seemed to dance with a very stiff spine.
As far as the dancing goes, I don't think it added anything political to the film. I'm not quite sure how it would. Parts of it were coyly sexual and there was that one song where Sid acted like a cowboy, which might have been a reference to his dominant attitude toward women. But the only big musicals I've seen are the most recent Hairspray and West Side Story, so I can't really say if being coyly sexual is part of most musicals or not. Rachael said that the Broadway version of The Pajama Game has much more explicit lyrics, though, that the film had to censor them.
* I just wanted to add that I may have heard that thing about musicals being coyly sexual in another class (es); I actually watched West Side Story for Juvenile Delinquency (go figure).
Watching the film, I wondered how its creators were first inspired to turn the story into a musical. I mean, it didn't really scream song and dance numbers when I read it. But Sid does have a really heavy view of love in the story; he talks about how Babe makes everything totally fantastic, and the language he used to describe being in love was really different from his otherwise sarcastic voice. Like I said yesterday, though, I didn't really find the story that funny. But I think that the tone of the novel gave itself to the kind of raunchy humor that was displayed in the film, and Sid's view of love - yeah, when he wasn't being a pseudo-rapist - was represented in the love songs.
I also noticed that Doris Day's hair wasn't red, which was disappointing, because Sid called Babe "the redhead" in the story. But like I told Agatha, I think it's petty when people think a character's ruined just because the hair color's changed. At the same time, though, hair color has always meant a lot to me when reading about a character; it says something about their personality, about who they are. But I liked Doris Day as Babe. And to be honest, I didn't think that Sid seemed that operatic -- beyond his singing voice and that he seemed to dance with a very stiff spine.
As far as the dancing goes, I don't think it added anything political to the film. I'm not quite sure how it would. Parts of it were coyly sexual and there was that one song where Sid acted like a cowboy, which might have been a reference to his dominant attitude toward women. But the only big musicals I've seen are the most recent Hairspray and West Side Story, so I can't really say if being coyly sexual is part of most musicals or not. Rachael said that the Broadway version of The Pajama Game has much more explicit lyrics, though, that the film had to censor them.
* I just wanted to add that I may have heard that thing about musicals being coyly sexual in another class (es); I actually watched West Side Story for Juvenile Delinquency (go figure).
Dancin' in the Streets
I have to preface this blog post by saying that I really think that the musical adaptation largely trivializes and undermines labor's importance, choosing instead to focus on the seriousness of Babe and Cid's romantic relationship. In fact, it's the romance that ultimately solves the problem, due to Cid's need to reunite with Babe. Additionally, the union's claims are repeatedly reduced to silliness and the workers are mocked as lazy drunks. As an aspiring member of management, Cid is presented as a hard working hero, while Babe never really explains her motivations for believing so strongly in the union. Clearly, many of the (already minimal) labor issues wound up on the cutting room floor as the novel moved to the silver screen and attempted to reach a broad audience.
However, I do think the film at least expresses class solidarity through the dances in the film. Upper management never dances in the film, and Cid's few dance steps are solitary and usually pretty lifeless. Hasler, on the other hand, never dances at all through the film. While this probably stems from the talent of the actors in the film, I do think that the traditional musical chorus does show some unity within the union. The most animated dance scenes involve the full chorus of factory workers in brightly patterned clothes moving in unison. The union picnic and the rally at the end utilize a full cast operating to produce an impressive visual effect. The well-rehearsed tangle of bodies at the picnic illustrates unity within the labor movement, but also fails to differentiate individuals.
However, the image of a chorus can be problematic as a lens to see the working class. While all members of the management team are stoic and not very fun in the film, they have clearly distinguished characters. The chorus remains a coordinated but faceless mass of bodies on the screen, blindly moving as one unit. I think this image is strengthened by the “dancing” steamed pajama tops in the first all-cast dance. The pajama tops fill up with hot air as a part of the choreography, but underline how replaceable anyone in the cast really is. They simply stand in as bodies within the factory setting and as consumers, never fully realized as characters.
However, I do think the film at least expresses class solidarity through the dances in the film. Upper management never dances in the film, and Cid's few dance steps are solitary and usually pretty lifeless. Hasler, on the other hand, never dances at all through the film. While this probably stems from the talent of the actors in the film, I do think that the traditional musical chorus does show some unity within the union. The most animated dance scenes involve the full chorus of factory workers in brightly patterned clothes moving in unison. The union picnic and the rally at the end utilize a full cast operating to produce an impressive visual effect. The well-rehearsed tangle of bodies at the picnic illustrates unity within the labor movement, but also fails to differentiate individuals.
However, the image of a chorus can be problematic as a lens to see the working class. While all members of the management team are stoic and not very fun in the film, they have clearly distinguished characters. The chorus remains a coordinated but faceless mass of bodies on the screen, blindly moving as one unit. I think this image is strengthened by the “dancing” steamed pajama tops in the first all-cast dance. The pajama tops fill up with hot air as a part of the choreography, but underline how replaceable anyone in the cast really is. They simply stand in as bodies within the factory setting and as consumers, never fully realized as characters.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
A Face in the Crowd
This was the first movie I've seen with Andy Griffith. That's surprising to me. Anyway, I liked both the short story and the movie. One thing that really stood out to me when comparing the two was the relationship between Marsha and Lonesome. In the book, they seemed much less a couple. Marsha seemed a lot more resistant in the book. The movie didn't express that in the same way. Another thing that caught my attention was the way in which Lonesome is discovered and named. It changes the status of Marsha's character because in the movie, she is the one who finds him in a jail and gives him his catchy name.
When I was reading, I was picturing in my head Ray Romano's older brother, Robert, as Lonesome. Andy Griffith doesn't look much the same, but I definitely bought the role. Andy Griffith's character redefined my mental image of Lonesome. Griffiths HAW HAW was also different from the haw haw I had imagined while reading the story, but it worked well nonetheless.
Prof. Newman mentioned this being a dark role for Griffith, and after watching the film, I would agree. I think the character of Lonesome is significantly darker in the film than in the story. The film really focuses on his will of control and his growing insanity. While those traits are definitely present in the story, they are exaggerated and magnified in the film.
Anyway, I liked it. Good reading. Good watching. Good story. Good acting. Good characters. Good plot. Good stuff. Good produce. Cool beans. String beans. 7 bean salad. Chunky soup. Thick hearty stews. Bread bowls. Abnormally large pepper shaker. Fine wines. Live Jazz. Good service. Benevolent owner. Olive Garden.
When I was reading, I was picturing in my head Ray Romano's older brother, Robert, as Lonesome. Andy Griffith doesn't look much the same, but I definitely bought the role. Andy Griffith's character redefined my mental image of Lonesome. Griffiths HAW HAW was also different from the haw haw I had imagined while reading the story, but it worked well nonetheless.
Prof. Newman mentioned this being a dark role for Griffith, and after watching the film, I would agree. I think the character of Lonesome is significantly darker in the film than in the story. The film really focuses on his will of control and his growing insanity. While those traits are definitely present in the story, they are exaggerated and magnified in the film.
Anyway, I liked it. Good reading. Good watching. Good story. Good acting. Good characters. Good plot. Good stuff. Good produce. Cool beans. String beans. 7 bean salad. Chunky soup. Thick hearty stews. Bread bowls. Abnormally large pepper shaker. Fine wines. Live Jazz. Good service. Benevolent owner. Olive Garden.
A Face in the Crowd
A Face in the Crowd raised a question about the concept of time when thinking about different forms of storytelling. The very “present” telling of A Face in the Crowd seems very contradictory to the memorandum that is The Arkansas Traveler. I think the aspect of the presentation of time is very important when considering the transfer from literature to film. With literature the audience can read it and reflect on the constant changing motions of the characters. In film the audience is swept along with the pace of the film and reflection only comes after its completion (unless you leave for a snack break.
I think this could be the main reason that so many adaptations are considered “failures.” The structure of A Face of the Crowd calls for a consistent following of Lonesome Rhodes as dynamic personality. In the short story, Rhodes’s personality is more explained as a fact rather than a developing point. Kazan uses an adaptation of time with this film to explain the rise of the man. Kazan lets us see Rhodes in his element. This agrees more with the forward moving nature of the cinema. It lets us see a man as he is, rather than what he has become.
Once more this points to how when switching forms the entire foundation of the plot must be altered if one wants to make the adaptation “faithful.” Because the form must be changed in A Face in the Crowd to sustain the interest in Lonesome Rhodes and his appeal to the masses. That appeal seems as what was made as the essence of the story. Because that was recognized Kazan was willing to restructure the entire tone of the piece in favor of this. This seems to be a important key to adapting a story. Many of the pieces we have seen thus far have just been a recreation through a visual medium. I don’t think, however, that recreation works when considering the element of time perception in the two different forms. Perhaps change is better when considering remaking a story.
I think this could be the main reason that so many adaptations are considered “failures.” The structure of A Face of the Crowd calls for a consistent following of Lonesome Rhodes as dynamic personality. In the short story, Rhodes’s personality is more explained as a fact rather than a developing point. Kazan uses an adaptation of time with this film to explain the rise of the man. Kazan lets us see Rhodes in his element. This agrees more with the forward moving nature of the cinema. It lets us see a man as he is, rather than what he has become.
Once more this points to how when switching forms the entire foundation of the plot must be altered if one wants to make the adaptation “faithful.” Because the form must be changed in A Face in the Crowd to sustain the interest in Lonesome Rhodes and his appeal to the masses. That appeal seems as what was made as the essence of the story. Because that was recognized Kazan was willing to restructure the entire tone of the piece in favor of this. This seems to be a important key to adapting a story. Many of the pieces we have seen thus far have just been a recreation through a visual medium. I don’t think, however, that recreation works when considering the element of time perception in the two different forms. Perhaps change is better when considering remaking a story.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Where Have All the Flower (or Socialist Folk Singers) Gone
First off, I want to comment on how much I enjoy the film Face in the Crowd. This has been my third or fourth time viewing it, and I'm surprised at how it never seems to grow stale. I'm also glad to get a chance to finally read the story from which it came. I've held a kind of ambivalent attitude towards Budd Schulberg's work. While part of me thinks it's great--What Makes Sammy Run?, On the Waterfront, A Face in the Crowd, etc.--part of me wonders if there are other factors, besides Schulberg, at work in what makes them great, especially his films: Kazan, Griffith, Brando, etc. There's also the fact that he named names to HUAC and was largely unapologetic about doing so.
One thing that makes me a little uneasy about the film is its use of a folk singer as the right wing demagogue par excellence. When I think about music associated with the right wing, folk music is not something that comes to mind. When I think of the latter, I envision Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, and others who are usually associated with (often extreme) left wing politics. The only type of music similar enough to folk that could be considered somewhat right wing is country music. But even country musicians (at least some of them) often have political associations that could be interpreted as leftist--I'm thinking of Hank Williams Sr. song Hey Joe as a response to Mccarthyism. So I wonder if Schulberg's use of a folk singer as representative of the common man/woman is more of a fear on his part of the common masses. This is something Raymond Williams addresses in Culture and Society: a fear of allowing the masses (the unruly mob) their own means of self-determination. This is also at the heart of the debate of fictional representations of labor: do proletarian writers of whatever decade stand outside the workers as a pseudo-interested observer or are they attempting to rise with them. Perhaps the film and story, then, despite their many merits, suffer from from this potentially ungrounded fear on Schulberg's part.
One thing that makes me a little uneasy about the film is its use of a folk singer as the right wing demagogue par excellence. When I think about music associated with the right wing, folk music is not something that comes to mind. When I think of the latter, I envision Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, and others who are usually associated with (often extreme) left wing politics. The only type of music similar enough to folk that could be considered somewhat right wing is country music. But even country musicians (at least some of them) often have political associations that could be interpreted as leftist--I'm thinking of Hank Williams Sr. song Hey Joe as a response to Mccarthyism. So I wonder if Schulberg's use of a folk singer as representative of the common man/woman is more of a fear on his part of the common masses. This is something Raymond Williams addresses in Culture and Society: a fear of allowing the masses (the unruly mob) their own means of self-determination. This is also at the heart of the debate of fictional representations of labor: do proletarian writers of whatever decade stand outside the workers as a pseudo-interested observer or are they attempting to rise with them. Perhaps the film and story, then, despite their many merits, suffer from from this potentially ungrounded fear on Schulberg's part.
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