ericcaers

"The Graduate" scourges the shallowness of the sixties, kicks against its smug and sanctimonious middle classes: xenophobic, materialistic and spoiled. Mrs. Robinson is the epitome of the devil-may-care LA bourgeoisie and represents the darker side of America's American Dream that is sedated by pills, desensitized by liquor, mind dulled by television, sanitized by the latest Tupperware and gleaming colors to sugarcoat the humdrum of suburban life (Mr. McGuire: I want to say one word to you. Just one word. - Benjamin: Yes, sir. - Mr. McGuire: Are you listening? - Benjamin: Yes, I am. - Mr. McGuire: Plastics.). The adulterous relationship between Mrs. Robinson and Ben is sex for sex only and is cast in terms of indifference, coldness and vulgarity. Mrs. Robinson is like a beast of prey, hungering for sex, absorbing young men's bodies to fight off the specter of old age, hysterically suppressing the anxiety that it causes, keeping her young daughter, whom she regards as her competitor and therefore, adversary, neurotically at bay. The true love between Elaine and Ben, on the other hand, surpasses the tasteless, the absurd and offers hope of a better generation to come (Mr. Braddock: What's the matter? The guests are all downstairs, Ben, waiting to see you. Benjamin: Look, Dad, could you explain to them that I have to be alone for a while? Mr. Braddock: These are all our good friends, Ben. Most of them have known you since, well, practically since you were born. What is it, Ben? Benjamin: I'm just... Mr. Braddock: Worried? Benjamin: Well... Mr. Braddock: About what? Benjamin: I guess about my future. Mr. Braddock: What about it? Benjamin: I don't know... I want it to be... Mr. Braddock: To be what? Benjamin:... Different.) Truly, a bridge over troubled water...

Director-producer Harold Prince changed the face of Broadway as its preeminent showman of the second half of the 20th Century by pioneering the so-called "concept musical", a show built around an idea that incorporated fluid, cinematic staging, a strong score and utilitarian scenery. His creative powers culminated in "Evita" in which the true life story of Eva Peron "on stage" is accurately enhanced by the projection of historical cinematic snapshots. The song "The Art of the Possible," in which a game of musical chairs is used to represent the power struggle and eventual rise of Juan Peron in the Argentine military, is pure directorial brilliance. The staging and choreography for "Peron's Latest Flame" is likewise splendid. There are several other great moments provided by Prince and Fuller that also produce theatrical magic. The only drawback to their continued involvement is that today the production doesn't feel fresh anymore. The "Bus-and-Truck-version" that brought the "Evita tour" to Europe in 1989-1990 featured a dazzling Florence Lacey as Evita, an imposing Robert Alton as Juan Perón and a charismatic James Sbano as Ché, but was already then somewhat compromised by the reduction in size and orchestra. Still, "Evita" was a box office hit in Germany and the Benelux countries and made Flo Lacey the uncrowned queen of all Evitas. In this respect, the film adaptation is a treat: big orchestra, huge choirs, lavish costumes and scenery, with "Don't cry for me Argentina" for the first time delivered by Madonna on the balcony of the Casa Rosada. All true and worthy of respect, only... the core competence and poignance of "Evita" is lost: Jonathan Price is a sleepwalking Peron, morose and lethargic throughout the movie, Antonio Banderas is a plain Argentine student who bears little resemblance to the political Ernesto Ché Guevara. The complex psychological insights into the main characters drown into the opulence, the lushness, the screaming colours, the noise. In conclusion: better see the "concept musical" with Hal Prince's utilitarian scenery which really puts the finger on it.

Following his personal motto, "something has to change in order to keep everything in place," authoritative prince Fabrizio di Salina (Burt Lancaster) secures his position, and that of his social class, by resigning himself to the "Risorgimento" and making a pact with the representatives of the bourgeoisie. He marries his nephew, Tancredi Falconeri (Alain Delon) to the daughter of a nouveau riche mayor (Claudia Cardinale), who should infuse fresh blood into an old bloodline threatened with extinction: the alliance between "the Leopard" and "the Jackal" exemplifies the blend between old and new. The collector's box of this film includes an interview with Alain Delon who, in retrospect, claims that Visconti had almost played the role of prince Salina himself, given the analogies between the two characters. Like Salina, Visconti preoccupied himself with questions of disappearing social class and transience. Beyond the splendour and revelry in his films always lies a dark horizon, the imminence of death, whose premonitory signs are perceived everywhere. The closing marriage scene is a lamenting farewell to vanishing beauty. Awesome Burt Lancaster in tuxedo looks into the mirror and tears well up in his eyes. Outside, a coffin is brought out. Majestic grandeur and striking dignity intertwine with elegiac melancholy, grief and regret. The perfect illustration of Friedrich Schiller's definition of tragedy: "Tragedy is not synonymous with suffering. Rather, tragedy is the futile protest of the individual against inevitable suffering". Delon claims that today he finds himself unable to watch the film, which evokes memories and images from a world long since forgotten, let alone listen to the soundtrack, "qui me fait pleurer"...