Tormented Genius

Charles Aznavour in Truffaut's "Shoot the Piano Player" -- yep, somebody's about to die.

Artists such as composers are not like you or I; or, me, or whatever is correct.

No, instead they are extraordinary beings - touched by God - possessed with genius - usually misunderstood and struggling against a hostile world, but whose output will live forever in the hearts of men.

Somehow, for the classical musicians themselves in film, it gets even worse. I looked at composers and their movie mythologies in the last chapter of this series. As I kept digging in I realized that, for even these longhair cats on celluloid, life is one jacked-up bender.

For those bow-gripping, ivory-tickling losers, life is an unremitting, rarely redeemed hell that forges the soul in suffering all manner of abuse, disease, mental illness, unlucky love affairs, booze, drugs, and/or having your testicles removed without your permission. Not necessarily in that order.

More than three dozen examples of the Suffering Musical Genius subgenre can be pared down to these gems:

Intermezzo (1936) Dir: Gustaf Molander; (1939) Dir: Gregory Ratoff. You can enjoy Ingrid Bergman twice in the tearjerker that made her a star. The 1936 Swedish version led directly to the American remake, her first U.S. film. In each, she plays the "other woman" - a concert pianist that the protagonist, a brilliant violinist, can't keep his hands off of. And who can blame him. Oddly enough, Bergman's last film role, in Ingmar Bergman's "Autumn Sonata," was that of a concert pianist as well.

Romance, doomed or not, always seems to summon up symphonies and tuxedos, moonlight and gardenias. The hottest screen couple from the late 1930s were warblers Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy. Through their eight picturesque musical vehicles, remnants of opera and operetta managed to perpetuate themselves on the public consciousness. An orchestra can make a grand sound behind you.

Other weepy examples from the period include Four Daughters (1938) Dir: Michael Curtiz, in which John Garfield nabs an Oscar nomination for his portrait of a self-pitying pianist who, helpfully, does away with himself towards the end by driving soulfully into a blizzard. Golden Boy (1939) Dir: Rouben Mamoulian, gives us the classic stereotype of the young man (William Holden) ignores his poppa (Lee J. Cobb) who wants him to be a violinist. Instead, Bill gets into the fight game, and falls in Barbara Stanwyck and other evil companions.

In The Seventh Veil (1945) Dir: Compton Bennett, poor little whispery-voiced Ann Todd is the suicidal amnesiac who must endure multiple flashbacks in her quest for self-knowledge and recovery. James Mason is at his bad-boy best as her sadistic guardian and piano teacher, who in a fit of jealous pique crushes her fingers while she's at the keyboard. Mmm, that's good melodrama.

Humoresque (1946) Dir: Jean Negulesco. This time John Garfield's a violinist, and he's really pissing off Joan Crawford. He's paying attention to his genius, not her! (She's damaged goods, too, though wealthy beautiful and alive.

And she drinks! "Don't you like martinis?" she says. "They're an acquired taste, like Ravel."

It'll never work. The ocean beckons. Goodbye, Paul.

Shoot the Piano Player (1960) Francois Truffaut. This seminal New Wave movie is an intelligent romp, and a profound deconstruction of film noir as well. French crooner Charles Aznavour plays a classical pianist who condemns himself to a bleak existence in a dive bar cranking out insipid tunes after his wife commits suicide. Of course, he can't outrun the past.

It's better than being castrated. Farinelli (1994, Dir: Gerard Corbiau) is a lavish period piece about the renowned 18^th century castrato. As the tagline says, in deep intense voice, "They stole the gift that made him a man to give him the voice that made him a god!" You see, he's a man-babe with the voice of an angel, but when the women he captivates come to his bed, he . . . uh . . . well, his brother jumps in for him when he gets to the important part. It's a bit like tag-team wrestling. Oh, and he fights with Handel a lot.

Other suffering-musician flicks from the time include Duet for One (1986, Dir: Andrei Konchalovsky), in which Julie Andrews is cellist with multiple sclerosis (see Hilary and Jackie, below); and Touts Les Matins Du Monde (1991, Dir: Alain Corneau), another big-budget drama about a very sad viol player. It won the French Oscar and made the bass viol a big hit! Remember that? You don't? Maybe it was just a French thing.

Two more of the true-life tormented are profiled in Shine (1996, Dir: Scott Hicks) and Hilary and Jackie (1998, Dir: Anand Tucker). In the first, Geoffrey Rush won a well-deserved Oscar for his portrayal of mentally anguished Australian pianist David Helfgott. Of course, the fertilizer hit the fan later when it turned out that most of the incidents in the film were disputed by others, and that Helfgott was not such a great pianist after all. Ah.

Meanwhile, Hilary and Jackie ("Sisters torn apart by genius - united by love!"), based on a memoir by the sister of famed cellist Jacqueline Du Pre, has never been screened in France. Why? Because Du Pre's widower, the illustrious conductor Daniel Barenboim, is portrayed as being a big schmuck in it and he would probably sue the pants off of the distributor if it was booked there.

Du Pre was a genius, however, and she did indeed die young of MS - and she may have been given her sister's husband to sleep with in the name of therapy after a nervous breakdown. Sure. We've all been there. Emily Watson works her magic in the title role, accurate or not.

Now, one entry I would love to see but can't seem to find is Passion (1999, Dir: Peter Duncan). Ever heard of Percy Grainger? The popular 20^th century English composer and pianist wrote happy little tunes such as "In an English Country Garden," but he was a bit daft. In particular, he just loved being whipped. This film postulates that he liked sleeping with his mother, too, and that things went splendidly for the two of them until he met a younger woman who liked to get on the business end of a cat-‘o'-nine-tails with him. Boy, did his mom get mad then!

And so it goes. A Song for Martin (2001, Dir: Bille August) deals with adultery, divorce and Alzheimer's, in that order. In The Soloist (2008, Dir: Joe Wright), a noble attempt is made to relate the real-life story of homeless, mentally ill musician (Jamie Foxx) and his relationship with a newspaper reporter (Robert Downey, Jr.). Sadly, it's made only over half its budget back six months after its release date.

Like the journalism it sprang from, "ripped from the headlines" movies, or anything supposedly based on a true story, beg their own questions about exploitation. Are all to be lauded for the effort? What's altruistic in this? What's not? Or, should we rip it in turn from its context and just look at it on its own terms?

Next: Worse than crazy - the Cursed Musician in the movies

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