Ginger and Rosa Come of Age in 1962

Ginger and Rosa is a subdued film in its story-telling style and cinematography.  The England of 1962 apparently had little sunshine and what there was of it was filtered through fog and dreary lives filled alternately with fear of the bomb and post-war numbness.  People here have accepted their lot, however grudgingly, and it feels like most are unlikely to climb out of the muck that sucks at them. 

The film starts in 1945, with the bombing of Hiroshima followed by a bird’s eye view of two young women in a London hospital.  Labor pain was mushrooming for the roaring red-headed Natalie, and the brunette Anoushka reached her hand out from the next bed to comfort her.  Women’s hands, girls’ hands open the film as we watch the brunette and redheaded children holding hands as they grow up. 

Christina Hendricks as Natalie (c) 2012 A24 Film.

The new mothers of 1945 become the exhausted mothers of teenage girls in 1962.  Without words, we see Natalie (Christina Hendricks) and husband Roland (Alessandro Nivola) in a dark if homey scene with young daughter Ginger (Elle Fanning); in contrast, we see young Rosa (Alice Englert) looking out the window as her father leaves the family.

Ginger and Rosa is the story of two teenage girls going through their rites of passage, exploring politics and religion, sex and passion, and discovering trust and betrayal.  Natalie and Anoushka’s daughters are the closest of friends.  Ginger and Rosa are inseparable, and, like all 16-year-old girls in every era, they question everything.  They experiment, explore, play hooky, practice kissing, sneak out at night, do all sorts of foolish things (hitchhiking to the beach, learning to smoke, getting in cars with strange men).  Rosa is a slim and pretty brunette, her crucifix clearly displayed on her chest even as she tries on clothing to look more grown-up. 

 

Ginger has no chance of looking grown-up — tall and slim she may be, but she has a child’s face, a child’s innocence, a child’s heart that fears and breaks.  She asks her questions of the world in her poetry and wonders if she’s going to live to the next day because talk of the Bomb on the radio is non-stop.  Governments threaten to retaliate, always assuming someone else will launch their nuclear armaments first.  It’s the Cold War and the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis.  Annihilation appears imminent, and apocalyptic self destruction weighs heavily on many, especially Ginger.  Ginger leads Rosa to meetings where a young man tries to rally those seeking an alternate to immolation by the Bomb.  This activism becomes Ginger’s lifeblood — and escape. 

Ginger and Rosa at a Ban the Bomb rally.  (c) 2012 A24 Film.

While Ginger’s father Roland still lives with the family, he doesn’t play by the rules (as he proudly pronounces later), including the rules of marriage.  He has young students, and just as he preferred Natalie when she was a teenager, so he clearly prefers girls younger than himself and therefore in awe of him.  Roland is a pacifist writer and professor who was jailed for his conscientious objector status during the War which still hovers over everyone’s lives.  Also in this vaguely left-wing community is Ginger’s godfather Mark (Timothy Spall), who also conscientiously objected during the War but chose to drive an ambulance and take part rather than enjoy his righteous sacrifice in a jail cell like Roland.  There’s also Mark 2, Mark’s American partner (Oliver Platt).  These gentlemen live in a much nicer flat than their friends, and sitting with them one might believe that everything can be solved over a nice cup of tea.  They also have an American friend, Bella (played with a frosty intellect by Annette Bening).  These three encourage young Ginger to explore, to talk, to learn.  It is when she is separated from Bella at a sit-in against the Bomb that Ginger is arrested, refuses to speak as she sits alone in a jail cell (she’s clearly a child, what were the police thinking?) that things come to a head.

Ginger with her godfather Mark (Spall), Bella (Bening) and Mark 2 (Platt).  (c) 2012 A24 Film.

After enough arguments, eventually Roland moves out of the household, and not long thereafter, the husband/wife fight is reflected in a mother/daughter confrontation.  The outcome is the same, and Ginger moves into a dingy spare room at the flat of Roland’s friend. It’s a cluttered storage room with paper thin walls, through which Ginger will eventually hear more than she can bear.

Nivola as Roland rowing Fanning and Englert 

(c) 2012 A24 Film

Although Ginger and Rosa still see quite a lot of one another, they grow apart as their duo becomes a trio with Roland (who refuses to be called “dad”).  The three go sailing together.  Rosa is clearly developing a crush on this handsome, smooth older man.  Ginger looks on with consternation, not understanding her friend’s lack of interest in those things they once did passionately together, and takes a while to recognize that Rosa is infatuated with Roland.  As I said earlier, Roland doesn’t play by any rules. 

Sally Potter draws with a fine point pen, pencils the shadings, setting the scene for these girls to live on the screen.  Ms. Potter’s attention to detail both as a writer and director brings us directly into the lives of these best friends — Rosa clutches her crucifix and wants to pray against the Bomb, while Ginger wants to march against it.  Rosa chooses to make out with boys at a bus stop while Ginger writes poetry.  Rosa suddenly starts wearing eyeliner, making Ginger appear even younger.  And yet, she still shares the liner with Ginger, who just doesn’t look the same in it.  

Alice Englert as Rosa and Elle Fanning as Ginger.  (c) 2012 A24 Film.

Elle Fanning as Ginger and Alice Englert as Rosa work beautifully together, opposites who fit each curve of the other.  It is a splendid cast, with Alessandro Nivola’s handsome Roland a shallow narcissist who has his good points, Mr. Spall and Mr. Platt as warm and loving godfathers as anyone would wish to have.  Annette Bening's chilly exterior is belied by her clear affection for Ginger.  Jodhi May is sad and drawn as Anoushka, the bereft mother of Rosa.  Christina Hendricks has some nice moments but isn’t quite as believable as the others.  Accents are uneven (even Ms.Bening’s American accent is odd and she’s American) but that rarely detracts.  Ms. Englert is very interesting as Rosa, even though the story’s clearly about Ginger and told from Ginger’s point of view.  Ms. Fanning, of course, is magical, heart-breaking, adorable.  When Ginger finally breaks down, her emotion is raw and honest, the truth pouring from her not to inflict pain but to share what’s been inflicted more subtly on her.

The music supervisor for the film was Amy Ashworth, and she has compiled a moody playlist for the time, with jazz ranging from Basie to Bechet to Bird and Brubeck to Monk.  The mostly smoky jazz steps aside for the occasional early rock and roll.  The music is often played on a small turntable, then made most personal when Natalie sits alone in the dark by the fire, playing on her accordion and singing  “The Man I Love.”  (OK, rather obvious, but sweet and truthful.  We women do things like that when the man we love breaks our heart.) So far I see no indication that a CD of the soundtrack is planned for release, but I hope it will be. 

Ms. Potter and her panoply of producers brought together a fabulous group of artists who provided fine results in the production design by Carlos Conti, cinematography by Robbie Ryan, and film editing by Anders Refn.

The film is not perfect.  It starts in a leisurely fashion, and we are mere observers of the 1962 Britain Ms. Potter recalls.  Ginger and Rosa sometimes dips from leisurely into slow, and takes a while to engage the audience.  It is Ms. Fanning and Ms. Englert who draw us into Ginger and Rosa’s world of hope and fear, love and despair.  Maybe even forgiveness. 

Although the film opens with a mushroom cloud, there are no gunfights, no fighter planes, no video games.  Ginger and Rosa draws us quietly into Cold War Britain and reminds us that the good old days were just as difficult as today.

~ Molly Matera, signing off, recommending the film to patient film and jazz lovers.

Larry Kert Spoiled Me Forever

Last week my local moviehouse showed the film version of a slightly staged concert production of Stephen Sondheim’s “Company.”  The auditorium was a small one, doubtless because the other filmed plays I’d seen had been shown in the theatre’s largest auditorium to too many empty seats. The house for “Company” was so packed that I had to sit much closer to the screen than I like.  Additionally, films never start when they’re stated — there are commercials, then there are 7-15 minutes of trailers.  Even the other filmed performances of plays I’d seen so far had introductions.  Therefore when “Company” started at one o’clock just like it said in the schedule, not everyone was even there yet.  People kept coming in, searching for seats in the back, then climbing over those of us in the front. Once settled, though, that audience had a fine time.  Mostly.

My basic understanding of this production was that it had four performances at the New York Philharmonic, and its minimal staging was probably to make the filming appear less static.  Director Lonny Price did what he could in a short space of time, but this production of a great Broadway show with TV stars looked like what it was:  a vanity production.  The music, as conducted by Paul Gemignani, was swell.  The performance was more than flawed.

Full disclosure:  I saw the original production of “Company” on Broadway back in the 1970s, albeit not with the entire original cast.  Dean Jones had moved on, and the incomparable Larry Kert had taken over the role of Bobby.  PBS Great Performances broadcast the 2008 revival in which the producers avoided paying any musicians by casting actors who could play instruments.  While I’m not sure that was the point, I did find the intrusion of an instrument before and between actors diminished the impact and the relationships. 

All this is to explain that I’m familiar with this musical play, the score, and I was disappointed with this production.  One of the things I love about Sondheim is that he writes songs for actors.  This does not mean, however, that the actors should not be equally adept at singing.  Really adept, I mean good singers.  No one need be a triple threat.  But too many of the cast of this production were not good singers.  They were competent to different degrees, but some of them weren’t as good as the singers in my college production of “Company” (for which I was a dresser for the Bobby, as part of my costume design credits that semester).

Let me say that in general, I really like Neil Patrick Harris.  However, as with many actors who have the power and wherewithal to create a production or a film around themselves (and I don’t know that he did so here, but I have my suspicions), I don’t think he knows his strengths or weaknesses.  I noticed on the Tony broadcast this year that he cannot dance as well as Hugh Jackman, but I give him credit for working at it.  I really wish he could dance, though, because “What Would We Do Without You” was quite a dull number, which was exacerbated by the poor camera direction.  Harris is charming, and he can sing to a certain extent, in a sweet, natural way.  He does not, however, have the vocal chops to sing Bobby.  He can act it, but Bobby’s the lead and the actor should be able to sing my favorite song from this (and many another) show, “Being Alive,” to the heavens.  Rafters.  Nosebleed seats.  Wherever, the entire story — such as it is — leads up to this song.  It should blow me away.  It did not.  Scroll up to the title of this review if I’ve confused you. 

Not everyone was a disappointment, and much of this casting is good, as were all members of “The Vocal Minority.”  In alphabetical order:

Craig Bierko as Peter overacted a bit in terms of the cameras, but his speaking and singing voice is powerful and gorgeous.  And his final scene with Bobby, after his "divorce," was hilarious.

Stephen Colbert as Harry was very good until he sang.  Please hit the note, don’t slide up to it, it’s not a difficult note.  He did this every time he sang the word “always” in “Sorry Grateful,” which is often.  Other than that, he was physically fabulous with Martha Plimpton, great timing, very funny.

Jon Cryer as David also slid to his notes and sang “always” as “ah ah always.”  Good work from an acting point of view, but not a good enough singer for Sondheim in particular, musical theatre in general. 

Katie Finneran as Amy was downright fabulous.  The only real emotion of the entire evening was her heart-rending statement to Paul, “I just don’t love you enough” (followed by his silent devastation).  She didn’t do her song, “Getting Married Today,” as I have come to expect it, but she was so good I didn’t care if she was veering off the standard.  A glowing performance.

Neil Patrick Harris as Bobby I’ve discussed above.  I’m a fan of Dr. Horrible, I enjoyed him in “Assassins,” I just don’t think he has the stuff — although he certainly has the charm to act it — to sing Bobby. 

Christina Hendricks as April.  Well. Much as I like Ms. Hendricks as an actor, she can’t sing.  Or dance.  She can act April terrifically.  Except she really cannot sing.  Hitting the notes in the right order, even if you don’t slide up or down to it as she and Colbert and Cryer did, does not qualify as singing.

Aaron Lazar as Paul was warm and lovely. He and Katie Finneran as Amy had the best scene, fully focused, honest, heartfelt, just gorgeous.  He’s a lovely Paul.

Patti LuPone as Joanne.  This is a good role for her, she should play it in a full production.  No surprises, she does just what you’d expect her to do, and does it well. 

Jill Paice as Susan was very funny, terrific voice and presence.  Such a legit voice, while necessary for Susan, is not needed for the whole show, but everyone should be as good a singer as Paice is, in their own way.

Martha Plimpton as Sarah has terrific comic timing and her physical humor with partner Colbert was a delight.  Their scene was the high point of first act.

Anika Noni Rose as Marta was initially kind of off and then got better.  The first few verses of “Another Hundred People,” although vocally adept, weren’t full of the excitement and joy Marta has, but as Anika progressed I enjoyed her Marta more and more. 

Jennifer Laura Thompson was very good as Jenny, a good combination of actor and singer.

Jim Walton as Larry did some lovely acting, clearly devoted to his acerbic wife Joanne.

Chrissie Whitehead as Kathy was adequate in the acting, nice dancing of mediocre choreography. 

The stoned scene (which felt surprisingly dated) highlighted some interesting unpleasantness in George Furth’s book.  “Dumb” comes up about a few of the women, in both the book and lyrics.  The women characters all have their strengths; yet the men — who are barely distinguishable from one another — don’t speak well of women, specifically and generally.  Not all of this musical play ages as well as the score. 

What can I say.  I’m glad I didn’t spend a lot of money going to see this at the New York Philharmonic.  I’ll just stick with my original score recording — even though it lacks Larry Kert until the final, bonus track!

~ Molly Matera, turning off the computer, turning up the stereo.  Any Sondheim will do.