The good news is that Burlesque is not the big, hot mess it might appear to be from its trailer and poster. And sure, that’s damning with faint praise, but c’mon … this film just looks like it’s going to be awful — or at the very least, tailor-made for a certain demographic that’s not the one I’m a part of. It’s got Cher as the owner of a burlesque lounge in Los Angeles, and Christina Aguilera as an impressionable-but-smarter-than-she-looks, small-town girl, diamond-in-the-rough performer, whose undeniable talent saves the club when it’s in financial dire straits. And as if that’s not enough, Stanley Tucci plays a gay sidekick (again). But I kinda liked the film anyway.
In her film debut, Aguilera does a decent job. She’s not great, and not awful. She has her moments, but really, it’s all about her singing. Those pipes are hard to deny. The best parts of the movie are, no surprise, whenever she’s on stage performing — probably because they’re like good music videos. The soundtrack features a few songs that burrowed themselves into my brain and are still swimming around (damned ear worms). And there’s eye candy for both genders — the cast also includes Julianne Hough, Kristen Bell, Eric Dane, and Cam Gigandet. Some credit does go to the film’s writer/director, Steve Antin for not asking anyone to do much heavy lifting (other than the singing and dancing, of course), and generally taking his film seriously enough to deliver something that’s sometimes very enjoyable to watch.
That said, part of me kind of wishes Burlesque actually was the hot mess it promised to be. That might have made it a more fun way to spend my time. Sometimes it comes close — some of the dialogue is groan-worthy, Aguilera’s character inhabits so many screen cliches in the first 15 minutes, and Cher’s big number late in the film is a great time to take a bathroom break. The plot itself strains credibility more often than it doesn’t. And I wish there was less handheld cinematography; at times, the film was harder to watch than Cloverfield was.
But in taking itself seriously and not going over the top, Burlesque ends up being a mixed bag: It’s not the kind of film that’s going to win Oscars, but it’s not a prime target for Razzies, either. It’s odd wanting a movie to be worse than it is, but that’s because Burlesque caught me a bit off-guard. I liked it enough to rate it a B–.
This really is the most wonderful time of the year. In fact, every year I can’t wait to get past Halloween because that means one thing: It’s time to start work on the year’s edition of A Very Marty Xmas.
2010 will actually be the 10th anniversary edition of my annual mix. That’s right, I’ve been making holiday mixes for 10 years (that is, if you don’t count 2008, which I skipped), and many folks have told me my mixes have become an essential part of their holiday. That’s pretty amusing — and impressive — considering I’m Jewish and all. Continue reading →
I was able to download the album more than a week ago, and have had it on constant “rotation” nearly ever since.
Notable about the album — other than its provocative cover — is that while the band’s funk/rock sound is still present, it’s almost overtaken by a more overt pop sensibility that results in Maroon 5’s most enjoyable studio album yet. Continue reading →
At the beginning of Get Him to the Greek, Sergio (Sean Combs, aka P. Diddy), an executive at a big-time record label, is yelling at his staff, who are trying to come up with a “game changer” idea that will help the label and maybe even save the entire industry. Aaron (Jonah Hill) has a crazy thought: What if we focused on the music? After all, isn’t that why they all got into the business in the first place?
It seems Aaron’s all-time favorite singer performed at L.A.’s legendary Greek Theatre 10 years earlier. Aaron thinks it would be great if they could get him back on that stage and have him revisit the site of his greatest show.
For many years, Broadway’s been trying to hop a ride on the rock and roll bandwagon. The results haven’t always been spectacular. For every Rent or The Who’s Tommy, there’s a less successful effort that’s not even worth naming. So it’s with tempered expectations that the Great White Way welcomes the latest attempt to bring rock to Broadway, American Idiot. The show, which opened last week and which I saw Saturday night, is about as authentic a “rock musical” as you’ll find and a real blast of youthful energy, but it’s not without its problems.
American Idiot uses every song from Green Day’s award-winning album of the same name, plus a handful from the band’s follow-up, 21st Century Breakdown, and a couple of unreleased b-sides. It enhances the music by adding a story of three friends who seek an escape from their dead-end suburban lives but don’t find any happiness: Johnny moves to the city and develops an addiction to a girl and heroin; Tunny decides to ship off to Iraq, where he falls victim to the horrors of war; and Will doesn’t even get to leave town because he’s accidentally impregnated his girlfriend.
As the show begins, we’re barraged by a wall of sound and screens — George Bush, American Idol, Donald Trump, etc. — that set the scene: We’re in the “recent past,” a time of media saturation and too much noise. Just this little burst of instant replay is enough to put you on edge. Then the opening guitar chords of the title song ring out and we meet the cast of angry young men and women. How do we know they’re angry? Because they stomp their feet, thrust their bodies forward in hard motions, throw their fists in the air, and sing with rage and intensity. (It’s not exactly subtle.)
But anyway, at first, it’s a little off-putting to hear Green Day’s songs sung with harmonies and to see them choreographed. After all, this is not exactly the kind of music you dance to. But don’t get the wrong idea: This is not “jazz hands Green Day.” By the end of the second song, “Jesus of Suburbia,” any awkwardness is moot. That’s because of two of the show’s biggest assets: One, Tom Kitt’s awesome arrangements/orchestrations. Kitt, who was in my high school graduating class, and who won the Pulitzer Prize recently for Next to Normal, has maintained the integrity of the songs’ punk rock origins while opening up many of them, and even making a handful of the tracks sound better. “21 Guns” is a particular favorite of mine. Maybe you saw the cast performing it at the Grammy Awards earlier this year.
The other asset is the incredible cast. You kind of wish the Tonys had an award for best ensemble (like the Screen Actors Guild Awards does) because this cast would win it hands down. Each person gives a high-energy, fully-committed performance, and they all work together expertly. While I hesitate to mention anyone in particular, one person did stand out for me: Rebecca Naomi Jones (Whatshername) — and not because she spends most of her time on stage walking around in not much more than her underwear. When she first appears, during “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” and adds her voice to the testosterone-filled air, it makes the song even more powerful. Jones’ other vocal contributions (“21 Guns” among them) are equally impressive. I wish she had more to do.
There are a lot of great moments in the show. I liked “Extraordinary Girl,” with its high-flying acrobatics, and thought “When September Ends” was a musical highpoint. I thought the direction of the show (by Spring Awakening‘s Michael Mayer) made the most of a stylishly minimalist set. And I liked that the 95-minute show moves forward at a great pace and doesn’t stop or slow down for an intermission. On the other hand, I didn’t think there was much about the three lead characters that made me want to root for them, other than the fact that one is played by John Gallagher Jr., best known for his Tony-winning performance in Spring Awakening. Johnny doesn’t really have a great story arc, and when he retreats back home at the end of American Idiot, you get the sense that he’s no better off than when he left. Also, I respect the show’s creators’ desire to preserve the order of the songs from the original American Idiot album, but after the emotional and musical peak of “Homecoming,” “Whatshername” feels like an unnecessary, rather anti-climactic coda. I’d have inserted “Whatshername” before the last section of “Homecoming” (i.e., “We’re Coming Home Again”).
American Idiot didn’t, ahem, rock my world like Spring Awakening did, but despite any issues I had, I still really enjoyed it. After all, the music is awesome, and as noted above, it’s put to great use in this show. I dare say this is the best, most hummable, most instantly memorable score on Broadway — at least compared to some other shows I’ve seen in recent years. I foresee myself listening to the original cast recording repeatedly, and I see American Idiot enjoying a long, successful Broadway run.
All you really need to know about Jamie Cullum is right there in the lyrics of the song “Mixtape,” which appears on his new album The Pursuit.
The song — which name-checks Nine Inch Nails, Louis Armstrong, Morrissey, John Coltrane, Cinematic Orchestra, De La Soul, Thelonious Monk, the Shangri-La’s, and more — indicates the wide range of musical influences that are running ’round Cullum’s head, and which result in a wide-ranging live show, such as the one he put on Saturday night at the House of Blues in Boston.
(And if the list of influential artists doesn’t give away what Cullum’s live shows are like, then the image of an exploding piano on his album cover surely does.) Continue reading →
For the past four months, I’ve been hard-pressed to find one favorite track on his new album, The Pursuit. I started off liking the raucous swinger “You and Me Are Gone” the most, then moved on to first single “I’m All Over It,” then side-tracked to the lovely “Love Ain’t Gonna Let You Down.” If you’d asked me two weeks ago, I might have told you my favorite track was “Mixtape,” but at this present time, it’s actually Jamie’s beautiful cover of “Not While I’m Around,” from Sweeney Todd.
Which is not to say that the other tracks on the album are bad, and nor does it mean I’ve tired of the ones I no longer deem my favorite. It’s just that The Pursuit is such an enjoyable album that I’ll just get stuck on one song or another, and for a time, it’s all I’ll want to listen to. Continue reading →
One of my favorite albums of the past few years is Corinne Bailey Rae‘s self-titled debut. Songs like “Put Your Records On,” “Trouble Sleeping,” “I’d Like To,” “Breathless,” and “Call Me When You Get This” have a nice new-soul/pop/jazz sound that Bailey Rae sings with an equally gentle and modern voice. This is a fantastic Sunday brunch or easy summer afternoon kind of album, the kind you don’t feel embarrassed to have playing in your car with the windows down on a nice day. It’s like the album Macy Gray always wanted to make, but never could because her voice wasn’t as pleasant as Bailey Rae’s.
It’s been a rough couple years since that album came out — Bailey Rae’s husband died as a result of an accidental drug overdose — but she’s back today with a new collection of songs, called The Sea. I found the album on the interwebs over the weekend, have been giving it a good listen, and while I like it, I can’t rave just yet. So far, the songs have a different, heavier sound (other reviews I’ve read are calling it “intense”) that reflects the recent events of Bailey Rae’s life. But then there’s a song like “I’d Do It All Again” and I realize that no matter what challenges she’s dealt with, Bailey Rae is still the talented and captivating singer I originally fell for.
The Sea is out today. Support a still up-and-coming artist and grab yourself a copy. (For the record, even though I downloaded it gratis this weekend, I’m going to buy it anyway.)
About halfway through the new film Crazy Heart, as Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) plays a brand-new song for Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal), she tells him that she thinks she has heard it before.
Bad replies that the good ones always sound familiar.
That exchange stayed with me long after the film was over because this one — with its story of an older, down-on-his-luck, washed-up musician who finds love and one last chance at artistic redemption thanks to a younger woman — is both familiar and good. Continue reading →
I rode the B line downtown today, and with all the students still away and most folks staying indoors to avoid the cold, it was a rather pleasant ride. I was able to sit and read my latest issue of The Improper Bostonian in peace and relative quiet.
That is, until we pulled into the Harvard Ave. station, and a guy got on with his portable stereo, sat down two rows behind me, and proceeded to turn it on and blast Madonna’s “Dress You Up” for all to hear. Turns out he had his radio tuned to 93.7, so we were also treated to a mix that included Journey’s “Lights” and Thompson Twins’ “Hold Me Now.” (When Crazy Town’s “Butterfly” came on, though, he flipped around to find a “better” station.)
At first, I was like, how rude! Doesn’t this guy have any common decency? I thought about asking him to turn off his radio, but I’m more passive aggressive, so other than shooting the guy a couple “Are you kidding me?” glances, I decided to blog about it way after the fact instead of saying something at the time. Also, I was kind of enjoying the music and no one else seemed to mind (or at least, no one else was complaining), so in the end I figured it wasn’t such a big deal. After all, someone who blasts their music on the T without regard for others clearly has no sense of it being the wrong thing to do, so saying something to him would have been pointless.
I know the T is public transportation, so I don’t expect it to be quiet. But I think bringing a stereo onto the train and playing it that loudly is a bit excessive. It often surprises me just how divergent my thoughts and behaviors are from those of others when it comes to public settings. My inbound ride today was just the latest example.
The good news is that Burlesque is not the big, hot mess it might appear to be from its trailer and poster. And sure, that’s damning with faint praise, but c’mon … this film just looks like it’s going to be awful — or at the very least, tailor-made for a certain demographic that’s not the one I’m a part of. It’s got Cher as the owner of a burlesque lounge in Los Angeles, and Christina Aguilera as an impressionable-but-smarter-than-she-looks, small-town girl, diamond-in-the-rough performer, whose undeniable talent saves the club when it’s in financial dire straits. And as if that’s not enough, Stanley Tucci plays a gay sidekick (again). But I kinda liked the film anyway.
In her film debut, Aguilera does a decent job. She’s not great, and not awful. She has her moments, but really, it’s all about her singing. Those pipes are hard to deny. The best parts of the movie are, no surprise, whenever she’s on stage performing — probably because they’re like good music videos. The soundtrack features a few songs that burrowed themselves into my brain and are still swimming around (damned ear worms). And there’s eye candy for both genders — the cast also includes Julianne Hough, Kristen Bell, Eric Dane, and Cam Gigandet. Some credit does go to the film’s writer/director, Steve Antin for not asking anyone to do much heavy lifting (other than the singing and dancing, of course), and generally taking his film seriously enough to deliver something that’s sometimes very enjoyable to watch.
That said, part of me kind of wishes Burlesque actually was the hot mess it promised to be. That might have made it a more fun way to spend my time. Sometimes it comes close — some of the dialogue is groan-worthy, Aguilera’s character inhabits so many screen cliches in the first 15 minutes, and Cher’s big number late in the film is a great time to take a bathroom break. The plot itself strains credibility more often than it doesn’t. And I wish there was less handheld cinematography; at times, the film was harder to watch than Cloverfield was. 
Martin's Musings 