Stories in the press, vintage: R & C, pt. 4
Mretramp2
Clara, heavy hitter James Wolcott steps to the plate. Wolcott has since gone
on to bigger, or other, things: He currently writes a column for Vanity Fair
(at least as far as I know he still has that gig) and an occasional novel.
Back in 1978, though, he was a humble Village Voice scribe. (If memory serves,
his main beat at the time was television, though he'd venture into rock every
now and again.) Wolcott's R & C piece bore the headline I, Dylanus and ripped
into Our Bob thusly:
Somewhere in I, Claudius our stammering hero tells Caligula: "My happiness
comes from c-c-contemplating your h-happiness." So it must be for the cast of
Bob Dylan's Renaldo & Clara. Bob Neuwirth frisks after Dylan like a spaniel
panting for scraps of encouragement. Joan Baez carries an offering of a single
red rose when she visits him. Helena Kallianotes, the rancorous hitchhiker of
Five Easy Pieces, leans on his shoulder dreamily, exultantly. Nearly everyone
in the movie is vying for the role of sorceror's apprentice, but since there is
no sorcery here -- Dylan's singing is a hoarse scrawl, his acting pouty and dim
-- all we see is shamelessness, self-deception, and unmasked envy. So many
reputations are sunk by Renaldo & Clara that it's like watching the defeat of
the Spanish Armada.
Among the shipwrecked victims: Sara Dylan, Rubin Carter, Ronee Blakely. For
years, Sara Dylan has been the Dark Lady of the counterculture: exotic, aloof,
a sensuous blur. In the shadows is where she should have stayed. Like Marilyn
Monroe in All About Eve, Sara D. is a graduate of the Copacabana School of
Dramatic Arts; every word, every gesture, is tinny and coarse. When she runs
her hand lovingly thorough Dylan's celestial curls, you want to look away --
it's like watching a hooker stroke her john.
The film's boho colonialism is symbolized by the brawny figure of "Hurricane"
Carter. Even though Carter is touted as a Promethean martyr, he's photographed
from the back in unflattering close-ups: His head looms across the screen like
an angry black planet. His prison press conference is intercut with Harlem
man-on-the-street interviews, which are in turn interrupted by blasts of
"Hurricane." We're given insultingly little information about Carter's case so
that another message can be telegraphed: That no one knows or cares more about
the black man's fate than Bob Dylan.
For me, the movie's sorriest casualty is Ronee Blakely. A number of people I
know speak scornfully of her, suggesting that she gets what she deserves in
Renaldo & Clara. Can't agree. Even if she was a pain-in-the-ass prima donna on
the tour -- which isn't clear, since her only sin here is dawdling at the
make-up mirror -- Dylan shouldn't have sabotaged her solo by placing it with an
ugly improvisational scene involving a foul-mouthed lout. Her performance of
"Need a New Sun Rising" is the only sensational moment in the film, and Dylan
damn near wrecks it.
The spitefulness of Renaldo & Clara -- the revenge of an artist on his groupies
-- might be tolerable if the film had a hateful energy. But it doesn't. It's
droopy and disconnected, like a fuckless porno. What's sobering about this
four-hour purgatorial home movie is that Bob Dylan truly believes he's sired a
work of art. Hieronymo's mad againe.
David Bachman
mret...@aol.com
TBPOKI
>four-hour purgatorial home movie is that Bob Dylan truly believes he's sired
>a
>work of art.
and 25 years later we're still talking about it, and bootlegging it,
and...wait a minute... maybe it is art after all...hmm.
Rod
Zuke
I don't think too many people call it a great work of art. I watched
it when it first came out in the shortened version which had some nice
music in it. I might like the longer version just because I am
familiar with the characters involved in the scenes. But then I know
nothing about film or film criticism. Maybe Dylan was really doing
something special.
I'm not sure but I still bet it would be a hard sell for anybody but
"hard core" Dylan fans.
It would be interesting to get these writers together and review it
again because a lot of their complaints seem to be based on DYlan's
stature at the time which I guess is understandable. Critics nowadays
seem to be more respectful toward Dylan.
Later,
Zuke
--
You are in control until you are out of control.
Footy
"TBPOKI" <tbp...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:20021003223606...@mb-fn.aol.com...
John Howells
<Yea, but we do the same thing to the Weberman tapes...
And Self Portrait outtakes...
--
John Howells
how...@punkhart.com
http://www.punkhart.com
Tricia J
> Like Marilyn
>Monroe in All About Eve, Sara D. is a graduate of the Copacabana School of
>Dramatic Arts; every word, every gesture, is tinny and coarse. When she runs
>her hand lovingly thorough Dylan's celestial curls, you want to look away --
>it's like watching a hooker stroke her john.
hmm, I thought it was Pauline Kael who coined "the celestial curls"
in her R&C review - or did Wolcott purloin the phrase from her?
PennecE
>From: "Footy" furl...@hotmail.com
>Date: 10/3/2002 11:26 PM Eastern Standard Time
>Message-id: <0U7n9.34332$PP.36930@rwcrnsc53>
>
>Yea, but we do the same thing to the Weberman tapes...
Wow, are you saying the Weberman tapes are a work of art? That's pretty a
pretty radical view of them. :-) But art is pretty much anything these days,
at least at the college I recently graduated from (e.g.-- a smashed
television-- yes, I know the point behind it and its message about tv, but does
it take any skill? More of a statement than art)
But the Weberman tapes are entertaining and I doubt they could've been
scripted any better if it was planned out before the calls. So I guess they
could be a spontaneous comedy sketch type work of art.
Footy
doesn't make it art. The Weberman tapes aren't art to me but I find them
funny as hell. Love having new Dylan fans listen to them...
"PennecE" <pen...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:20021004130052...@mb-ce.aol.com...
PennecE
>Message-id: <b9ln9.38819$xI5.8564@sccrnsc02>
>
>No my point was just that just cuz we Bobcats collect and trade something
>doesn't make it art. The Weberman tapes aren't art to me but I find them
>funny as hell. Love having new Dylan fans listen to them...
>
Yeah, I know what you meant. I was just messing around, you know, that's why I
put the smiley face. :-)