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|2 reviews in total|
You always hear critics complaining about how bad modern movies have
become. They will lament the coming of every latest big-budget
Hollywood product. But when they start talking about the classics and
the fact that older films had so much more merit, they should be
required to sit through Michael Curtiz's 'Under a Texas Moon', a film
from 1930 that proves there were always big-budget Hollywood stinkers.
Though the movie looks great in its restored Technicolor condition, that's probably the only positive aspect I can recommend. Frank Fay is one of the most smug and repugnant screen presences I have ever witnessed. His exaggerated accent and constant mugging become repulsive as the movie goes on. I was not surprised to learn that this Vaudeville comedian's film career never took off (The fact that this man was married to Barbara Stanwyck is not a wholesome thought.) Fay plays a wrangler who comes to a village to help capture some cowboys who've wrastled a local farmer's cattle. He romances women along the way (including a young Mirna Loy), complete with guitar playing mariachis. The ending has a twist that is unsatisfying and defies common sense. Much of the editing is incoherent, and there is at least one scene involving a bathing beauty that makes absolutely no sense. The comedy is corny and shameless, even for 1930.
Thankfully, this a fairly obscure film in Curtiz's filmography. Am I glad I saw it? Perhaps, but it is only a confirmation that useless Hollywood drivel has always been around.
Ken Russell's "The Music Lovers" might be the one of, if not the best
film ever made on the subject of classical music. I emphasize this,
because as a historical biography it could be described as merely
Russell portrays Russian composer Peter Tchaikovsky (Richard Chamberlain) as a closet homosexual who is haunted by the past and present. In order to obtain social acceptance, he marries a sexually ravenous young woman (Glenda Jackson). Their marriage, of course, proves to be disastrous, and Peter flees from his wife, isolating himself in the countryside to compose music for Madame Von Meck (Isabella Telezynska), a rich aristocrat and widow. But Tchaikovsky's past comes back to haunt him several times before the film's manic and grotesque conclusion.
Russell has constructed images that are beautiful and disgusting (often in the same scene) and the film is a perfect accompaniment to the inspiration and ambiance felt in the composer's music.
The best scenes involve the seamless meld between sound and image. A concert at the beginning of the film beautifully transposes images of audience members listening to Tchaikovsky's latest piece, with the fantasies that the music inspires in them. Numerous fantasy sequences throughout the film teeter on the edge of insanity, highlighting the composer's feelings and fears.
Which brings us to the film's astonishing and loony climax: an excessive montage set to the "War of 1812 Overture" that must rival any other sequence in the history of film for its inappropriateness. The piece is no doubt Tchaikovsky's most well known work, which brought him wealth and fame. But Russell presents his transition from composer to "star" entirely in fantasy. I could try to describe this sequence for you, but it would be futile. It must be seen to be believed. Let's just say that the climatic cannons from the "Overture" are put to violent and hilarious use.
The components of the film come together perfectly. Everyone seems to have been in their element while filming. The cinematography by Douglas Slocombe is absolutely beautiful, and proves to be the best feature of the film. This is possibly the best "looking" Russell film. Glenda Jackson's performance as the nymphomaniac wife is perfectly in tune with Russell's histrionic presentation. And though Richard Chamberlain does not fair as well, he shows some emotional depth that has hardly been seen in his other work.
Russell's pyrotechnic camera-work is so breathtaking that it is a wonder why the man cannot find work these days. "The Music Lovers" is an exercise in the pure joy of film-making and the emotions it can invoke within us. Perhaps Russell's career slipped through his fingers in the late 1970's (along with his budget), but this film, like Tchaikovsky's greatest compositions, is a work of genius.