Category Archives: fine arts

Mission: Jimmy Stewart and the Fight for Europe, by Robert Matzen****

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missionjimmystewartIn Mission: Jimmy Stewart and the Fight for Europe, Robert Matzen provides an engaging, compelling memoir that focuses primarily on Stewart’s time as an aviator during World War II. Thanks go to Net Galley and to Goodknight Books for the DRC, which I read free in exchange for this honest review.

The book begins with Stewart’s childhood in a small Pennsylvania town. His is a close knit family with a strong military tradition. An outstanding student, he is educated at Princeton and falls in love with theater one summer. He hits the road for Hollywood to fulfill his dream.

Because of the title, I am taken aback at the amount of celebrity gossip that is included in the first portion of the biography. Matzen wants us to know that Stewart used his skinny-awkward-young-man routine as a sort of foreplay to work his way between the sheets with one well known actress after another; he lists many of them. I could have lived without this part, but maybe you’ll enjoy it. If like me you are really only interested in the military aspect of it, skip the Hollywood part at the start and pick it back up when he enlists. Eventually this is what I did.

Once there, the story is fascinating. Stewart resolutely straight-armed studio efforts to keep him in the USA or use him to entertain troops, as some actors that are drafted chose to do. He angers a studio head who actually tells him, “You’ll never work in this town again”. He decides he is going to do his part like any other man, apart from the fact that he had always wanted to fly and now has the money for a private plane and flying lessons. Once he is actually in uniform, he is able to become the aviator he has dreamed of being as a youngster.

As Martzen unspools Stewart’s story, which had to be difficult to research given Stewart’s resolute refusal to discuss that period, I am instantly engaged. I had known at one time that the planes were not heated back then, but hadn’t fully appreciated the dangers and challenges posed by the cold alone once in the air. A man could suffocate if he didn’t regularly break the ice off of his mask. Men could and did lose body parts to frostbite.

The stories of the men that would eventually serve under him as he rises in rank, not due to strings pulled by authorities but as he has wished, by merit and leadership capability, are also both interesting and poignant. Reading the way the pilots name and decorate their planes, how individual aircraft with idiosyncrasies that make them handle differently so that the pilots strongly prefer to fly their own ships, is interesting, and  reading the personal details and in some cases, the deaths of these men is wrenching in some places, poignant in others.

When Stewart has completed his military service, he looks at least ten years older than he is. He’s seen a lot. If he returns to Hollywood, there’s no chance he will play the same roles he used to do. He stalwartly refuses to exploit his time in the service by making World War II films, which are enormously popular, and for a long time, his phone doesn’t ring. He’s sleeping at his parents’ house in his old childhood bedroom, wondering what will happen. But in time he hears from Frank Capra, who has an idea for a picture “based on a story titled ‘The Greatest Gift,’ about a man from a small town who wishes he had never been born. Jim was the only actor in Hollywood whom Capra considered for the role.”

Despite the sense of alienation he experiences with his return to the other-worldly, glitzy city after his gritty, intense experience in the war, Stewart is glad to be back, and he plays what will become an iconic role, that of George Bailey in “It’s a Wonderful Life”. He credits Capra with saving his career, and is overjoyed to be back:

“He was engaged in something magical again, something to interest people in the art of living, rather than the art of dying.”

The book also discusses Stewart’s lifelong friendship with Henry Fonda, and his marriage. We get a brief overview of the peacetime lives of the surviving members of Stewart’s first crew.

If it were up to me, I would remove all of the somewhat jarring photos at the end of the book that show Stewart alongside one actress after another, and I’d replace them with photos and maybe diagrams of the planes we hear so much about. A map here and there wouldn’t hurt, since we follow his flight paths and it’s sometimes hard to visualize where these places are. I used Google, but would like to see these included as part of the published memoir, perhaps in the center, where they’re most relevant.

I recommend this biography to fans of Stewart’s, and I recommend most of this book to those with an interest in military history.  The book is available to the public today, October 24, 2016.

American Gothic:The Story of America’s Legendary Theatrical Family—Junius, Edwin, and John Wilkes Booth, by Gene Smith***

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americangothicI was invited to read and review this title by Open Road Media and Net Galley. Thanks to them for the DRC, which I received in exchange for an honest review. This title was released to the public October 4 and can be purchased any time you want it.

Although I love a good night at the theater as much as anyone else, I came to this bearing a love of history and a strong affinity for the American Civil War. I didn’t realize to what extent this would be purely a biography of this family of actors, and it was because of this that I became somewhat disillusioned.

Smith has carefully documented the lives of Junius, Edwin, and John Wilkes Booth. He talks about their predecessors, their early development, and their careers, and he documents everything he talks about. Those studying nineteenth century American actors will want this book, because these men were the most famous of their time period, tickets to see them perform much sought after.

My problem is with the elephant in the room.

It’s hard not to approach John Wilkes Booth without thinking about military history, and about his role in what was essentially an incipient CIA within the Confederacy. Other sources neatly document the fact that it was not a case of simple mental illness on the part of an assailant that made President Lincoln, the greatest president in the history of the USA, die. There was a great deal of planning involved, of research about where he would be and when he would be there. Contacts were made, and a plot was launched that was initially much more far reaching in scope, but with the surrender of Lee’s army, others within the cadre left town fast and didn’t look back. Booth was the one that decided he was going to follow through, one way or the other. How much of it was due to a longing for an historical spotlight, how much was due to emotional instability, and how much was a calculated effort to revive the Confederacy by assassinating Lincoln, we do not know, but what we do know, and what Smith doesn’t say, is that this was not a matter of simply yielding to impulse, of losing one’s sanity and suddenly deciding to kill a great leader. It was done in a calculated way, and I can’t respect this biography when this information is omitted. All we hear about are references to early signs of “madness”, as if this horrible deed can be swept to the side by the use of one well-placed word.

That being said, The New York Times loved this book. If the history of acting is your wheelhouse, you may want to read it. There’s nothing of method or technique that will help a developing actor, but it doesn’t pretend to be. It’s about the actors’ lives and careers, and that’s pretty much it.

Those that treasure history as a bigger picture, or that are looking for some tiny morsel to help them understand what made John Wilkes Booth carry out this monstrous, well-planned killing will remain as much in the dark when the book ends, as they are now.

In Such Good Company: Eleven Years of Laughter, Mayhem, and Fun in the Sandbox, by Carol Burnett****

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suchgoodcompany  When I saw that Burnett had published a memoir of her years as America’s favorite comedic performer on The Carol Burnett Show, which ran from 1967 through 1978, my first thought was, what, another memoir? She’s already published at least three others, one of which I have read and reviewed. But the fact is, she hadn’t used up all her juice yet. Each of her memoirs focuses on some particular aspect of her life, and so this book is new, it’s original, and it’s probably the stuff you were hoping she’d talk about in her other memoirs. Lucky me, I read it free thanks to Net Galley and Crown Archetype. It was published September 13 and I am sorry to be on the late side, but I scored my own copy just prior to publication; I had no idea it was available till Crown put a promotion up on Facebook and it showed up on my home page.  I genuinely held my breath as I logged onto Net Galley to see if I was too late, and happily, the Literature Fairy smiled on me.

As the memoir begins, I am at first a trifle disappointed, because it appears as if she is just going to list every single person that’s ever appeared on her show and gush about how nice they were.  But she’s just warming up, and it gets more interesting. She describes how she made her way into show business, and though she skims over the early years, knowing that the reader wants to get to the show, it sounds very much as if she was the overnight success that aspiring actors only dream of becoming.  She was on a show that I wasn’t around yet to watch called “The Garry Moore Show”, and she must have made not only a tremendous impression, but also a lot of friends, because she was offered her own variety show—think of it!—and then was able to bring a head writer, a choreographer, a bunch of dancers and some other people west with her from New York to Los Angeles.

This show was a fixture in my childhood and adolescence. One of Burnett’s regular satirical sketches lampooned soap operas, and it was called “As the Stomach Turns”. It was one of the few things that made my parents and me laugh out loud at the same time. My friends and I spent ridiculous, late night hours creating our own satire of a satire, which we dubbed “As the Stomach Churns”, and which featured imaginary illicit relationships among our own teachers along with the administration, janitorial staff, and especially our librarian, a book hoarder that chased away all potential clientele from her sacred gates.  So when I saw that Burnett was writing about the show, I had to see what she’d written, because she had been an intrinsic part of my own development.

All comers that want to read this should do it near an internet source if at all possible, because the comedic sketches can be viewed on television and now also on YouTube. This is fairly new: I tried to view them a couple of years ago and they weren’t there yet, so this is exciting all by itself.

And if you have never seen any of her work and wonder what I am carrying on about, check it:

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUKYH3jtDMM

 

and with Robin Williams:

 

The life that she led sounds like something most actors could only dream of. She got up, got her kids off to school, started work on the show mid-morning Monday-Friday, with a single run-through on Thursday followed by a live show before a studio audience Friday, and then they were done at three o’clock and she was done by the time her kids were out of school. It came down to disciplined behavior on the part of the cast and crew, and to the unusually respectful atmosphere in which the show was done. Once a guest misbehaved and when he threatened to storm off the set, she let him go and said good riddance; they did the show without him.  (She won’t give us a name, but he was short. I have been speculating ever since.)

 

She does tell the many spoofs that were done on movies of the past, and which actors called to say they just loved what the show had done with their film, and which either called up and were angry or sent indirect messages that they were not amused. And she  offers a retrospective look at the way women in show business were expected to behave back then; she was sometimes a doormat, and exultantly recounts how Edie Gourmet, on a guest visit, gave some of it back to those that bullied Carol.

 

Some of the funniest bits of writing are included, and some of the regular cast’s best onstage moments are recounted, along with those of favorite guest stars. A complete list of every show and which guests were featured is at the back of the book for those that want to look up particular entertainers, or  peruse it for fun.

 

But the bottom line is that this is pure gold for those that love Burnett and the show, and that can follow along some of the high performance points online. If you aren’t interested in her work, then the memoir won’t mean much to you.

 

Recommended to Burnett’s many fans.

 

War and Turpentine, by Stefan Hertmans***

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warandturpentineI received a DRC of this memoir from Random House through its First to Read program. I read the book free in exchange for an honest review. Though it wasn’t a good fit for me, I think there are niche readers out there that might enjoy it.

This memoir chronicles the life of the author’s grandfather, Urbain Martien, a Dutch worker that fought in World War I. The son of a brilliant artist, Martien worked whatever jobs were available until the war broke out. He had hoped to become an artist like his father before him, but instead wound up painting buildings just to earn a living.

Apart from its historic aspect, this title is one that I knew would be outside my comfort zone. Since retirement I’ve pushed myself outside my usual well-worn paths and taken a few risks, and though it doesn’t always work out for me, a few unlikely choices have affected me so favorably and so deeply that I have continued to push my own walls outward. I don’t know a thing about art, but I thought it might not matter. I pushed myself to read The Goldfinch, which was about a stolen museum painting but also much more, and once I did I couldn’t believe I had let the DRC pass me by. So I had this in my mind; War and Turpentine might be one more opportunity that I shouldn’t miss.

The basis for the memoir is a series of notebooks that the author’s grandfather gave him, a journal of sorts, and the memoir itself is done not in the usual linear fashion, but as a series of snapshots. I confess I prefer my memoirs to start at the beginning and end at the end, if not the end of life, then at the end of the period being discussed. But an artist would perhaps not have thought that way; I can see the reason for selecting a different format, but because there was no discernible story arc, I found myself floundering and eventually avoiding the book altogether.

The prospective reader should know that along with some really strong imagery and other word smithery, the memoir contains some very graphic violence.

I suspect the ideal reader for War and Turpentine would be one that loves art, art history, and European history.  It is for this niche audience that I recommend this book.

Only the Road/Solo el Camino: Eight Decades of Cuban Poetry, by Margaret Randall, editor****

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Margaret Randall is an old-school feminist and socialist, and I recognized her name when this volume of Cuban poetry became available. Thank you to the author, Duke University, and Net Galley for permitting me to access the DRC, which I received free in exchange for this honest review.

onlytheroadMany people don’t know much about Cuba, the tiny island nation a mere 90 miles from the coast of Florida. The American media has distorted the Cuban Revolution for as long as I can remember. Before the revolution, which took place in 1959, Havana was like Bangkok, a place where little girls prostitute themselves so they won’t starve to death, where wealthy visitors can experience every pleasure, innocent or corrupt, known to humanity but where most citizens have little chance of even having their basic human needs met. Cuba’s alliance with the Soviet Union (USSR) helped the Cuban people defend themselves from US efforts to overthrow the revolutionary government, but the alliance also led to a period of Stalinist repression that darkened artists’ worlds for a period of time. Randall discusses all of this in her introduction. Following the period Cubans call the Rectification Period (reference mine), Stalinist practices were peeled away, and more freedom of expression created a more hospitable environment for artists, in addition to strengthening the revolution itself. In Cuba art is not privately sold as a general rule, and artists receive a salary for what they do, paid by the Cuban people.

Randall’s collection of poetry is encyclopedic, including a vast stylistic range representative of a range of generations, some little-known voices as well as a number of LGBTQ writers. Randall translates each poem and gives a comprehensive biographical note for each poet. If anything, I might have preferred a slightly more stripped down version, but what Randall has done is very scholarly she documents well.

Since this reviewer does not speak Spanish, I cannot evaluate the translations personally, but given that Randall’s background I would be astonished if it were not rock solid.

That said, I also found myself lamenting my lack of Spanish, because I know that the flow of sound is an important part of poetry, and even the best translator can’t rectify this. Those that speak Spanish will likely get more from the collection; both Spanish and English versions are included.

Those that love poetry and are interested in seeing the work of Cubans, and especially those that also speak Spanish, should get this excellent collection. It becomes available to the public October 14, 2016.

The Reel Civil War: Mythmaking in American Film, by Bruce Chadwick****

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thereelcivilwarI found this gem at my favorite used bookstore in Seattle, Magus Books, which is just a block from the University of Washington. Its strength, as the title suggests, is in tracing the story of the American Civil War as told by the cinema. Those interested in the way in which movie impacts both culture and education in the USA would do well to find this book and read it.

Chadwick spends a considerable amount of time and space carefully documenting the myth produced by Gone with the Wind, a completely unrealistic, idealized portrait of the ruling planter class of the deep South. Many of us would, in years gone by, have been inclined to dismiss this concern by saying that after all, the book and movie were primarily intended as a love story, but Chadwick demonstrates that this is not so. He ferrets out actual interviews with Margaret Mitchell herself in which she insists that this is exactly the way it was. Her sources? Former plantation owners, of course.

To this day, if an avid reader goes to Goodreads.com and under the caption “explore”, goes to “listopia” and from there selects a list of readers’ favorite Civil War titles, GWTW will place within the top ten, and sometimes be the foremost title, selected over nonfiction as well as more accurate fiction. I find this horrifying.

The research regarding the Civil War itself is nothing I haven’t seen before, but Chadwick makes excellent use of strong secondary sources to document the fact that Black folks in the pre-war South were neither happy nor well treated. He takes apart the myth Mitchell constructed in a meticulous manner, one damn brick at a time. Hell yes. About ten percent of the way into the book, Chadwick’s removed, scholarly tone changes to one of articulate outrage, and I found this tremendously satisfying.

Chadwick follows Civil War films forward, after first also examining Birth of a Nation, a painfully racist film which was famous at the time because of its length; its original claim to fame was not content, but technology. For those that have not seen the film, this will be interesting reading also, and those that have seen it may pick up some new information as well.

A couple of generations later, the more realistic and highly acclaimed Roots television miniseries told the story of Black America in a way that hadn’t been represented on film before. Chadwick is again careful in his documentation and clear in his explanation.

The book’s final film treatment is of the most positive and accurate film depiction of African-Americans is the film Glory. This reviewer used this film in the classroom. It depicts the Black Massachusetts infantry that tried to take Fort Wagner and in doing so, inspired President Lincoln to order more Black troops to be armed and trained for combat in the American Civil War.

For those interested in the connection between film and American history, and of the American Civil War in particular, this book is recommended.

The Sound of Music Story: How A Beguiling Young Novice, A Handsome Austrian Captain, and Ten Singing Von Trapp Children Inspired the Most Beloved Film of All Time, by Tom Santopietro ****

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thesoundofmusicstorySince the enormously popular movie based on the story of the Von Trapp family was released 50 years ago, numerous books have been published about the family, the movie, or both. This reviewer tried reading Mrs. Von Trapp’s memoir many years ago and found it surprisingly dry. Not so with this humdinger by Tom Santopietro. When it comes out in February, you may want to read it even if entertainment history is not usually of interest to you. Because after all, The Sound of Music is not just any movie! Thank you, thank you to Net Galley and St. Martin’s Press for providing the ARC so that I could check it out and report back prior to the release date.

That said, if your entire life has been spent sad and deprived, or with your nose to a video game or hiding under a rock and so, somehow, you have never seen this movie, watch the movie first. It is a full three hours long, and not a single moment is wasted. In the tradition of Rogers and Hammerstein, the music forms a part of the narrative, rather than something inserted in between lines of a story which slow it down. Painstaking care was leant to avoid having a moment when the audience would collectively think, “Ho hum, I can see we’re about to burst into song here.” In fact, musicals were not much in fashion anymore, and religious films, which had enjoyed popularity just prior to this one, were now considered old and outdated. Extraordinary effort was taken to engage the audience, and it shows.

One reason it was even considered, odds being what they were, was that the stage version of The Sound of Music, which starred Mary Martin as Maria, had sold tickets like hotcakes. The possibility of a successful motion picture was intriguing. There was no way to use Martin for the film, though; she would have been past the age of fifty years when filming began, and things that can be obscured or disguised on stage tend to show up on camera. There could be no painted backgrounds for film—how cheesy! An entirely new script, with two additional songs added by the original composers, made it much more appealing than the stage version. A lot of money went into making this show work, and it was money well spent.

How the deal was struck to make the movie is explained thoroughly without trying the reader’s patience without a lot of extraneous or uninteresting detail. Each time I thought perhaps I was getting too much information—such as back-stories on the behind-the-scenes specialists—the narrative would lead from there into the aspects of the film that were their particular contributions, and then I would understand why I needed to know about that person. The creator of that gob-smackingly gorgeous wedding dress? Oh, hell yes! The choreographers who put together the whole nine-minute Do-Re-Mi music video…oh, yes I guess that was pretty amazing, so yes! And behind all of it was the genius of Robert Wise, a producer and director I had never even especially noticed before, but now will never forget.

I loved walking through the casting roster. Hmmm, who should play Maria? How about Angie Dickinson? (If you are old enough to remember her, you’ve got to find this pretty amusing.) Mia Farrow? She would’ve had the job if she could’ve sung better. Doris Day had a red-hot career going, but she turned this one down cold, accurately pointing out that her resume had been built by being the quintessential all-American girl, and just how was anyone suddenly going to think she was an Austrian nun? Point well taken.

Some of the others were fun, too. How about Yul Brynner as the captain? He really wanted that job. NO. And so it goes.

Interwoven throughout are the real family Von Trapp. Once she had accepted the deal and signed on the dotted line, the real “Sister Maria” was every bit as outspoken in real life as her fictional counterpart. In fact, she was so outspoken in her limitless suggestions as to how the film could be kept more in keeping with events as they unfolded that finally, a letter was sent off to her explaining, for once and all, that the movie was based “loosely” on her own story and was not intended to be a documentary. Stay out of the way; we’re making a movie here!

Which scenes were shot on a Paramount stage, and which were on location? Sometimes the difference is a matter of angle, with scenes being freely mixed. (The Von Trapp manse had several different locations, according to whether one was out front, out back, indoors, or in the gazebo.)

Imagine Maria skipping down that lane singing “I Have Confidence”…with fifty or so cameramen and other personnel following closely. And didn’t she make it all look easy? A clue: it wasn’t. That woman had an unstoppable work ethic!

And what of the Von Trapps now? Once they emigrated (not really through the Swiss Alps, silly; for one thing, to get there from Austria, you have to go through Germany!), they came to the United States, flat broke after a life of great comfort, albeit not as much luxury as depicted on film. They sang and toured till some of the “children” were sick to death of it and vowed to sink deep roots and stay put ASAP. Eventually they founded a ski lodge in Vermont, where the grand-Von-Trapps, at least some of them, still live and work.

Was Julie Andrews really that nice, or was she different off-camera? You have to read the book, and then you’ll know. Who else is remembered fondly by the cast, and who not-so-much? It’s all here.

Even less central aspects of the story, such as the campy sing along tradition that draws thousands anually, many in full costume (even dressed up as carburetors!) and likened to a nerdy version of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, are interesting and amusing.

What’s more, after you read the book, if it affects you as it did me, then no matter how many times you have watched the movie, you will need to see it again in order to appreciate everything you just read. Happily, we had the DVD ready to hand, and my daughter, who has also watched a number of times before, and I nestled next to the Christmas tree and re-watched it, with me pointing things out to her as we went along.

If you don’t have a date Friday night or prefer a less boisterous evening in the privacy of your own home, this movie just could be a great plan for you! Then you’ll be properly ready to read the book once it comes out around Valentine’s Day.

Mark your calendar. This story-behind-the-story is worth the anticipation.

A Mickey Mouse Reader, by Gary Apgar ***-****

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AmickeymousereaderThe key word here is “reader”, which means don’t expect a sumptuous coffee table book replete with lush full page illustrations. This is, instead, a collection of articles written over the years about the character Disney referred to colloquially as “The Mouse”, and also some about Disney himself.
The first third or so of the book is somewhat monotonous, because several articles are printed that essentially give the same information. They talk about the first cartoons that played as short films in movie houses during the era of silent films, and the consequence adaptation in which Mickey was given his voice, which was Walt Disney speaking in falsetto. The company was founded on a shoestring by Disney and a partner with whom he fell out when the man swindled him; consequently, Walt’s brother Roy came on board with a significant cash infusion and a willingness to join in. It was Walt Disney’s wife Lillian who prevented him from naming Mickey “Mortimer Mouse”. The character’s humor was modeled largely on the self-effacing humor of Charlie Chaplin, though Disney said that the two did not share political perspectives.
Those who have the attention span and the interest level will find more diverse material in the remaining portion of the book, and everything is fastidiously documented; articles published in a language other than English are reprinted in their entirety in the original language at the back of the book.
Mickey is analyzed up one side and down another by such diverse individuals as Carl Jung, Maurice Sendak, and Stephen Jay Gould; in relation to the last of these, there is an achingly tedious article giving all the cranial dimensions of the various incarnations of Mickey’s head. Who knows? Maybe that will be your favorite part. It didn’t do anything for me. Many others commented on Mickey and his role socially, internationally, and even politically. Some claims that seemed gob-smackingly over the top to this reviewer dampened my enthusiasm a little bit. For example, one commentator said that Mickey is the greatest contribution ever made to world culture by the USA because he is so instantly recognizable and has a different name in every language. The reasoning is specious, because it takes a trademark image and equates it with culture. Given that jazz music was originally hatched on US soil, it’s a little hard to swallow that Mickey is America’s greatest contribution, almost a damning by faint praise. But you can decide for yourself, and this book will throw plenty of claims and historical information in your direction.
In 1937, as world politics became tense, the New York Times pointed out that the only two internationalists left in the world were Mickey Mouse and Leon Trotsky.
The longstanding rumor that Disney was sympathetic toward German fascism before World War II is never addressed. As Mickey has been kept carefully squeaky clean, so is his and Walt’s biography. Instead, it is mentioned that the sight of the Mickey Mouse button worn by children throughout the developed world infuriated Hitler, who wanted German youth to display only the swastika. It is also mentioned that the name “Mickey Mouse” was used as a code during that war. And one of the book’s few illustrations is a political cartoon in which Mickey represents the USA, perched on the nose of , Charles de Gaulle, whom the Allies backed when France was split between the two sides.
Disney’s genius was not only geared toward animation; he had a good head for business. The Disney fortune compounded itself with merchandising. Initially, Mickey’s success bankrolled the expensive production of Snow White, Dumbo, Bambi, and the other early, magnificent animated full length films that followed. Tee shirts and wristwatches were everywhere in the 1960’s and 1970’s; Disney took the 50,000th watch that came off the assembly line and put it on his desk, which had once been graced with studio mice (actual rodents) which he had lovingly caged, observed, and set free in fields earlier in his career.
Brief mention is made of the cartoons made in an earlier era that caricatured African-Americans, and I confess I myself had wondered why those dreadful things were not pulled out of circulation, or limited to those studying animation history as opposed to popular entertainment. Brief mention was also made of the NAACP boycott instigated by the release of “Song of the South”, one of Disney’s few flops.
What does the future hold for Mickey, Apgar wonders. Disney himself had pointed out that there were limitations to what one could do with “The Mouse”. After all, Mickey is eternally young and eternally good; unlike Donald Duck, Disney’s more rounded character, Mickey could never have a sexual thought, lose his temper, or take a controversial stand. Because of this, and the fact that he had already been in some 70 short films as well as the acclaimed Fantasia and The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, he more or less hit a dead end (my phrase, not Disney’s).
Cartoonist Art Spiegelman, creator of the graphic novel Maus, commented that if Mickey were to be updated, the obvious thing would be to make him gay. “After all, he’s already halfway there!” This gave me my first real laugh during the time I read this historical collection.
For the general audience, I rate this three stars due to the repetitive nature of a large amount of material and its dearth of artwork. For a niche audience including those researching the history of animation, the history of Disney , or that of Mickey Mouse, my sole concern is what is left out or glossed over: Walt Disney and pre-Hitler fascism; issues with the NAACP; and the reprehensible exclusion of the king of pop, Michael Jackson, who doesn’t even get a mention. For these reasons, five stars are not possible, so four stars for a niche audience. The collection is comprehensive in all that is glorious, and almost entirely devoid of rockier, more controversial moments.

Ballerina: Sex, Scandal and Suffering Behind the Symbol of Perfection, by Dierdre Kelly ****

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Ballerinasexsufferingscandal I had originally been interested in reading ballerina Gelsey Kirkland’s 1986 expose of the ballet world, Dancing On My Grave. I’ve never been interested in dancing myself, having found out early that I was born with two left feet. However, middle age has found me reasonably well read in the areas at which I excel, and that has given me the freedom and interest to read about sports, ballet, and other things that have never been a part of my personal universe. I already know about my interests; now let’s see about someone else’s.

I became more interested when I found out that the physical therapist I’ve worked with is a ballerina with Pacific Northwest Ballet (NW USA). I was shocked! I asked her whether that wasn’t pretty terrible for the body, but she said things were changing, and indeed, although she is a slender person who walks with the distinctive grace of a ballerina, she is not emaciated, and appears to be the picture of health. So when I ran across Kelly’s e-book, given me as part of a gift bundle, I decided to have a look.

Kelly has done a lot of research, and for the most part (and in all ways central to the ballet), she really appears to know her field. She begins with the French “Opera rats” of the 1500s who were either recruited or often, promoted by their mothers as dancer-prostitutes during the dark times. (Its roots are in Greece, where fencing began.) The first publicly famous ballerina was La Fontaine, who starred in “Le Triomphe de l’Amour, at the Academie Royale de Musique, the first recorded appearance of professional ballerinas on the proscenium stage”. However, the moneyed class of men showed up for these performances, not to watch the pretty dancers, but to choose a courtesan, and the girls were taught at early ages to preen themselves to this expectation. On the one hand, those who proved themselves desirable got to eat, and so did their families; on the other, they worked like slaves, and in at least one case, a ballerina died young of venereal disease (early 1700s). Though it was possible to live at home and not become a courtesan while dancing ballet, it was unusual. This dubious opportunity had spread across Europe by the 1700’s, to Sweden, Italy, and Prussia. The French dancer Camargo created the first dancing slippers, and offered erotic promise as well as improved physical movement on the stage by moving her hemline up nearly to what fashion magazines now refer to as “ballerina length” (comparison mine, based on the photo in the book and her reference to raised skirts). Camargo also choreographed her own works, & not until I had read the full book did I appreciate how much power this represented. Guimard was the last famous French ballerina prior to the revolution.

During the “second empire” of the 19th century (a backlash against the French Revolution), Emma Livry declined to wear flame-proofing on her costume because it interfered with the other-worldly appearance she wanted to project as a Romantic dancer. (Here I found myself wondering whether the word of a 14 year old ballerina would permit the exception to be made today!)At a dress rehearsal, she fluffed her gown out and was instantly consumed in flame. She was saved by a stage hand only to live out 8 more months in horror and agony, and then die of her wounds.

“Russian ballet was rooted in the culture of the disenfranchised,” the author explains. Here is where we move off of Kelly’s turf and onto mine; she all but ignores the effect of the Russian Revolution, merely noting that there was experimentation with the dance during that period, and that the revolutionary “angry mobs” were outraged when the tsar (here I would add, as brutal a dictator as ever lived) let the peasantry freeze but sent 4 military trucks full of coal to his ballerina mistress, Kschessinska. Consequently, Lenin chose her balcony, which had become a symbol of the effete ruling class, to address his audience after the revolution. (Lenin did not revel in the luxury, but had contempt for it, using her sunken bathtub as an ashtray.) Kelly does point to changes in Russia such as “emancipation of women” and “mass democratization”, but does not comment much on how this changed ballet, apart from no longer pushing women into concubinage. I found this glossing over a bit strange, since she had just stated that Russia was the center stage of ballet; it could be she had difficulty obtaining more material. By 1931 (and Stalin), international ballet superstar Pavlova was able to dance her way to an early grave by dancing while very ill against her doctor’s wishes.

The 20th century introduced the choreographer as the new, higher power in ballet. Kelly puts more voice and less detachment into the second half of this ballet history, taking serious exception to New York’s late star director, George Balanchine, whose emphasis on frailty among his dancers and caustic remarks about the appearance of individual dancers in front of others created the toxic culture of anorexia and bulimia which gradually took over the world-wide stage for ballerinas everywhere. Numerous cited instances of ballerinas starving, yet still feeling too fat, and of instance after instance in which ballerinas were simply fired from their low-paying but hard-won positions if they attempted to advocate for themselves. Gelsey Kirkland’s memoir (the one I had originally set out to read, but couldn’t find) says that Balanchine told her “repeatedly” to “eat nothing”. Ballerinas were subsisting on coffee and chewing gum, and in addition to many other health problems, experienced more fractures because their bones had been deprived of nutrition.

One small error was the author’s nod to women’s rights issues and their effect on ballet. I understand that her realm is not feminism, but ballet, but once she decided to include it, she needed to avoid making errors. She says in this volume that “Everywhere,women were burning their bras” but this is one case where there is no citation. This is because it is myth and legend, rather than fact. Again, she has moved out of her field and into mine (contemporary U.S. and Russian history), and offered a non-fact to bolster her own arguments.

The arguments themselves are well-taken here, and are well argued in the book. Though there are progressive companies, mostly, it appears, on the US west coast and Canada, as well as Australia, where dancers are offered nutritional expertise and encouraged to envision a future without ballet, abuse and eating disorders continue. Most problematic may be that the very ballerinas who need work teaching, are those who previously starved themselves in the “old” Balanchine-rooted style, are coaching the new ballerinas and mis-teaching and mis-training them to harm their own bodies.

I won’t go into more detail about the latter half of the book, because something should be left to the reader. There are myriad outstanding quotations that make this a very interesting read.

The jury is still out, in my opinion, as to whether there is any wholesome way for a ballerina to practice and earn a living while taking care of her body. Companies that embrace modern dance, such as Alvin Alley (California, USA) seem to fare a little better, but that is my take merely from the little knowledge I have, put together with having read this book. If the history of ballet interests you, I encourage you to read it yourself.

Life in Motion: An Unlikely Ballerina, by Misty Copeland ****-*****

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lifeinmotionI rate this four stars for general audiences, five for those interested in the ballet.Misty Copeland, star ballerina with the American Ballet Theatre, wants us to know that when she enters a stage, she thinks, “This is for all the little brown girls.” And rightfully so. She is the first Black ballerina to rise to this level of prominence in twenty years, and the first ever to star in The Firebird.

I read this book free courtesy of Net Galley. I approached it not as a fan of ballet, but as an avid reader of autobiographies and memoirs. When I rate this book a five-star read, I do so not for a niche audience, but for anyone who enjoys reading stories of personal struggle, triumph, and success.

Copeland, who is racially mixed but identifies primarily as African-American, is famed for her work on the stage, but she can really write, too. I kept half an eye open to see if a byline or as-told-to would crop up somewhere. Copeland’s education was often disrupted by a chaotic childhood; her mother, a loving but apparently capricious individual who seems to have had terrible taste in men, had trouble staying in one place. Dramatic departures that took all of Misty’s “tribe” (her loving term for her siblings) in as co-conspirators, became a pattern, but they never seemed to leave the first “daddy” until Mama had a second one already waiting for them. How does a young woman whose life—and education—are tossed up and thrown down into increasingly tenuous situations , become this literate?

I can only conclude that the label of “prodigy”, one she heard from an early age, did not apply solely to her dancing talent, but also to her intellect and capacity to pick up information quickly.

Copeland begins her ballet training in California, in a working class neighborhood at the local Boys and Girls Club. Her ability is breathtaking, and a mentor arranges for her to receive further, more advanced training.

At one critical juncture, Copeland’s mother pulls another rip-up-our-roots-and-leave number, and the family, now nearly destitute, lands in a motel room in a seedy area. There are six children and their parent (and boyfriend, at first) living in a single room, and Misty survives emotionally by compartmentalizing her life, fronting at school as if her home is the same as everyone else’s, avoiding prurient details, and doing the same, more or less, at her beloved ballet lessons. (Her mentor is covering some expenses for her, but she does not know this at the time; she thinks it is all free.) Misty ‘s sisters and brothers are increasingly finding other places to spend the night; the integrity of the family is unraveling. Misty survives those nights in the grungy motel by looking forward to school and above all, ballet, the following day. That is, until her mother tells her to quit.

The mentor is having none of it. She confronts Misty’s mother and asks to bring Misty home with her instead. And with a poignant note of pain, Misty tells us, “She let me go.”

Turns out, it isn’t so bad that way. Life in the middle class opens up new possibilities for her, once she is in Cindy’s condo with her husband and toddler. She learns which fork to use, how to set a good table, and watches ballet on video. She has nice clothes and a full belly. Her confidence increases.

But visits back to the motel room to see the family are tense. She is perceived by her siblings and mother as arrogant. She has a new hairdo, and this sets off all sorts of bells and whistles. (Those of us who have been through foster parent training were told: never mess with the kid’s hair without checking with bio-mom first; for some reason, it is a button-pusher.)

After years in the bosom of a new and loving family, in which she is included to the extent of having studio portraits of a family of four framed on the walls, herself, the two new (Caucasian, Jewish) parents, and the little brother, her mother decides to take her back.

This reviewer has been there, and nearly wept at this juncture, though the author puts a professionally polished distance between the feelings she had then; those she had subsequently; and those she has now. Social workers will tell you that a parent who is more than ready to see a child go, a kid who is one more mouth to feed at least, and at times, maybe creates extra work or trouble, often sees their newly-acclimated offspring when they are successful and happy, and they suddenly want them back, as if they can pull a little piece of that success back to themselves. Maybe that’s what occurred here.

Perhaps other, less subjective reviewers may feel differently, but I was surprised to see Cindy wiped out of the story, more or less, once Misty went back to live in the motel, and then not brought back except peripherally at the end. I get it; this is a ballet memoir, but it’s also an autobiography, and when she tells us that she had “been seeing” Cindy and her family off and on, I wondered what kind of interactions took place, and whether she felt turmoil at such times.

One thing was sure, though: just as she took to ballet with remarkable speed and talent, she also took to Manhattan in a New York minute. Though it was expensive and hard to afford an apartment with any natural light or air, she hooked into the city, once invited to study, then perform there, and claimed it as her own.

But culturally and economically, she felt the disparity between herself and other dancers:

“Ballet has long been the province of the white and the wealthy. Our daily, toe-crushing exercises made pointe shoes as disposable as tissues, and they can cost as much as eighty dollars a pair. I came from a family that didn’t always have enough food to eat…[her peers] summered in Europe…their families had weekend homes.”

At one point in her development as a ballerina, when a bigoted reviewer indicates that she doesn’t fit in with the white dancers, members of the Harlem cultural community ask her why she doesn’t come there to dance instead. Why does she put herself through it, they wonder. And in time, she is formally invited to jump ship and come on board the Harlem dance organization.

But she has learned the negative lessons of her mother’s tendency to cut and run when adversity strikes, and she decides she will fight to maintain her position in the USA’s premier ballet company.

International fame follows, along with the opportunity to work with the musician Prince. And there is more, but I should leave a thing or two for the reader to discover.

I appreciated the author’s deft juggling of her personal story and her professional one, although of course they mesh in many places. There is never a point where the story drags or too much information (old grudges or love life details) make me want to skim.

Like the ballet, the story is lean, trim, and full of joy, despite hardship. You should read it.