Brain Drain

Archive for February, 2008

My friend Erin keeps a blog called Feed Your Head  in which she regularly compiles random information. As I read this month’s update, I couldn’t help but think of several of those wiley pre-romantic poets.

… even though the average American moves 11 times in their lifetime, 61% will die in the same state in which they were born. Cheers to Thomas Gray’s “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” and all those farmers who probably died in the same town as where they were born.

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In Chapter 3 of Barsam’s Looking at Movies, I found the segment on costumes fascinating. Aside from obvious stylistic creations, I had assumed that accuracy of period costumes was of the utmost importance to filmmakers. This assumption is, in part, due to my singular and ridiculously unimportant role as an extra.

In June ‘06 I made my film debut in Peter Schnall’s The Revolution, a thirteen part series made by The History Channel. (Reruns are airing as I type). It captures a few quick glimpses of me in five of those episodes posing as both a middle and lower class colonial woman.

Historical accuracy in this project was not just the main directive, it was a passion. The costume designer was so knowledgeable that she explained where certain pieces of clothing got their name and most of the actors personally owned authentic Redcoat and American Revolution uniforms, seeking this type of film for a living.

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Hmmm. Not sure how I got this result.

• My work is not remarkable… I’m a jane-of-all-trades but master of none
• I’m SO not athletic
• I am a woman, not a womanizer
• Gunnrunner? My dad made me shoot a .22 when I was young, but I’m no Dick Cheney.
• I’m not out to corrupt anybody, just enlighten them, but I can see how perspective would depend upon point of view.
• Last but not least, I’ve already outlived this dude.

The sequel to a previous post…

In response to a classmate who believes that French author Madam George Sand (Judy Davis) in James Lapine’s 1991 film Impromptu, is ”attracted to Chopin [(Hugh Grant)] because she unconsciously learned to be more feminine like he was,” I’d like to respectfully disagree.

Prior to Sand’s pursuit of Chopin, she is already quite feminine as demonstrated through her clothing throughout the film. As a child, she wears a dress and has long hair. Sand’s bed clothes in the very first scene are traditionally frilly with ruffles, bows and layers. At the first party where she is to meet her publisher, Chopin’s presence yet unbeknownst to her, Sand wears a rather eccentric dress/pants combination, but somewhat of a silken embroidered dress with a bow in front all the same. When she visits her mother prior to engaging in her relationship with Chopin she wears a conservatively elegant cloak and, when her mother dies, Sand’s mourning dress is a traditional black gown and her hair is traditionally upswept. Perhaps Sand entertains the idea of being fit for a more traditional dress when in pursuit of Chopin, but she also tries moving in the opposite direction by buying men’s clothing. Overall, I’d say Sand is never portrayed as strictly masculine nor feminine, but rather the perfect embodiment of both at once.

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I

My first introduction to Aurore “George” Sand, the French author, has come solely from my viewing of director James Lapine’s Impromptu. Having never read Sand’s work, nor any form of a biography, I have come to the topic with no preconceived notions. This film’s limited window into Sand’s life provides the opportunity for an interesting experiment. I’d like to compare my first impression of Sand as directed by Lapine with that produced by acquiring additional information. Will my initial understanding be supported, contradicted or enhanced by some quick research? Let’s find out.

When Young Aurore (Lucy Speed) first appears, she is a child running through the wilderness away from an authoritative voice calling her name. She arrives at a self-made altar of stones among the ferns growing at the base of a tree. There she kneels and prays:

Hear me, O Corambe. Corambe, thou who art man, woman and god in one, hear me. I free this bird in thy name. Come to me, sublime being. I want to know the meaning of life. And I want to find perfect, perfect love. I free this lizard in thy name. [To lizard] Don’t be dead. Oh, balls.

This shot dissolves to reveal Madame “George” Sand (Judy Davis) seated at a desk writing her memoirs.

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While there are plenty of facts to rough out an historical timeline, Shakespeare’s personal life is a mystery to the most diligent of biographers. On the contrary, While John Madden’s Shakespeare in Love constructs events and meanings which appear to be factual, the lines between Madden’s depiction and Shakespeare’s reality are heavily blurred. Early scenes are representative of the humble beginnings of the notorious Bard, and verisimilitude exists simply from what we know about narrative. We know historically that Shakespeare becomes successful, but to become successful means that he was not always. The audience can thus identify with certain probabilities and forgive those symbolic depictions that do not align with the Shakespearian time period.

Historical Accuracy Vs. Contemporary Culture

One such example is the way the film portrays a lack of inspiration in the process of writing. Will (Joseph Fiennes) sits at a modest desk in a sparsely furnished room. With ink stained fingers, he repeatedly scrawls and crosses out his name with a quill, perhaps focusing on the perfect signature to a masterpiece he has yet to begin. One can imagine him asking himself, “Where to start?” Dissatisfied with even his imperfect signature, he crumples the parchment, tosses it into the trash, and sticks the quill into an apple. The trash lands in a small, open trunk alongside what appears to be well preserved and organized manuscripts. The message reads as if success has turned sour, dried up, run out. Although the imagery is effective, one might ask if Shakespeare, a writer of little wealth at the start of his career, would waste ink and fresh sheets of valuable parchment on a signature only to toss them into the trash? It’s not likely but, because paper is such an inexpensive and widely available commodity in America now, we accept the symbolic portrayal of frustration in balled up sheets of misshapen thoughts without question. Understanding narrative construct and cinematic language, rather than realism, is what convinces the audience.

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