Archive for the '1d) No Stars for the Eclipse' Category

14
Feb
17

No Stars for the Eclipse

One weathercaster called it a “must-see light and shadow show by the Old Master Himself,” but I can’t say this last lunar eclipse was worthy of the recommendation. Staged, in my location anyway, behind a thick cloud cover that served only to diffuse the vivid contrasts essential to any dramatic effect, the “Old Master” might have been faxing it in from deep space somewhere for all the incandescence it could claim. Quite frankly, as light shows go, I thought more interesting work was being done at the Electric Circus back in the ’60s.

Now let’s please not have any misunderstandings. I’m aware that I’m criticizing the performance of a venerable figure who, over the eons and in every conceivable form and category, has compiled an impressive oeuvre. If I have to confess that a lot of His stuff is not to my taste, that I find much of it heavy-handed or impenetrable (when, indeed, it is not distracted and slack), this doesn’t mean I’ve failed to recognize the enormous contribution He’s made.

I’m thinking, of course, of the models some of His stunning manipulations of the more volatile natural elements provided for the Irwin Allen disaster films. And, to be sure, there’s His introduction of death itself which, brilliantly counterbalancing His earlier invention of genders and sex, forestalled the unwieldy prospect of twenty-thousand expansion teams in just the American League East (and, say, the 2012 playoffs extending well into the 2028 season). But that’s hardly been the limit of this remarkable innovation’s reach and impact. In its absence, “Scream 2,” which everyone agrees was even better than “Scream,” would doubtless have languished in perpetual turnaround since filmgoers would have found the emotions of fear and panic depicted in the original much too weird and elusive for a sequel to ever be greenlighted.

What’s more, we can be reasonably certain that the popular denouement of the “happy ending”—the product of an inevitable backlash—would never have been developed.

So while it’s often, for me, like feeling obliged to respect whatever that was that Marcel Marceau used to do, even as you knew that one more minute of it and your lungs were going to erupt with blood, I’m more than prepared to honor the “Old Master’s” achievements. It’s just that I’m not what you’d call a huge fan. What puts me off most is…well…it’s His LORDLY attitude. I could forgive Him a lot—yes, even those tedious revivals of His wind-and-water specials that take out half a state—were He less disdainful of His audience, less willfully opaque and ambiguous. I know this “mysterious ways” thing is a cornerstone of His persona and I can understand His reluctance to give it up. But, bordering on the pathological, His aversion to making His meanings known is wearing a little thin, don’t you think?

I’ll allow that, however disappointing it may be, it’s ultimately of small consequence when He mounts a shoddy eclipse. But it’s something else again when, for one especially egregious example, He leaves you to blow out all your circuits trying to figure just where a mindless inferno of neuroticism like Mia Farrow fits into the notion that if you’re on the planet it’s for a reason.




Books by Robert Levin

When Pacino’s Hot, I’m Hot
The Drill Press LLC
Reviews

109415877-0-m31
Music & Politics
by John Sinclair and Robert Levin
World Publishing

“Robert Levin’s articles…make up the second half of Music and Politics, and they’re something else again. He’s a quietly briliant writer (not flashy but subtly dazzling) who knows jazz extremely well and who knows how to let us know what he knows. His piece on Sunny Murray says more about the birth of the New Jazz than most writers could say in a volume; the Anthony Braxton interview is one of the freshest, most reassuring articles on the future of music (of the arts in general) that I’ve read; his ‘found critique’ of ‘Space’ by the MJQ, which contrasts Murray’s thoughts on music at the White House with President Nixon’s introduction of the MJQ in that very place, is brilliant; his piece on the unfortunate evolution of Willis Jackson…is a minor masterpiece; and he’s lucid and painful and thoroughly correct when he writes that ‘What is meant by ‘every man has his price’ is that every man has his uncertainty about the validity and sanity of his perception of the truth. To ‘sell out’ is to capitulate to that uncertainty.'”
—Colman Andrews, Creem

giants
Giants of Black Music
Edited by Pauline Rivelli and Robert Levin, with a foreword by Nat Hentoff
Da Capo Press

Music & Politics and Giants of Black Music are no longer in print, but remain available from Amazon.com and other outlets.