The Band Wagon

by Vincente Minnelli, 1953

I considered referring to it as Minnelli’s Faust, as the Mephistopheles character, played by Jack Buchanan, was intended as something of a self portrait (as reported by others, but as well, and, especially, by the director’s daughter.)  Of course Astaire’s Tony Hunter, the Faust figure, doesn’t end up damned but happily partnered with his Margaret or Gretchen, embodied by Cyd Charisse and called Gabrielle Gerard, and dancing with the Devil himself in Top Hat and Tails while singing I guess I’ll have to change my plan.  Still, this musical film plumbs some of the same depths as the Pirate before coming up for air.  There is also a near Jacobean theatrical element to the film's making in that some five different individuals, including one team, wanted to claim credit for writing the Mickey Spillane parody narration beneath the Girl Hunt ballet.  Call it the Comedy of Faustus by Michael Kidd.

 

Mural, 2010, by Cindy Sherman

 
After a few fallow years, about seven or eight years ago (just about every good artist goes through them) Cindy Sherman quickly returned to form and produced this rather staggering Mural, printed on adhesive fabric, just in time for her big museum retrospective.  One can see something of what she may have learned from Jack Smith here, in the trashy glamor of the costuming and the transparently composed quality of the characterizations.  What isn’t clear from these reproductions is the scale of the figures, which are some three times life size.  These ladies are monumental.  I like to think of them as goddesses protectively hovering over a rebirth of the Dark Ages.

FAUST

by Alexander Sokurov, 2011

 

I’ve only seen this great film by way of a Russian dvd video recording (as it didn’t get a very extensive release in the United States,) in which the German dialogue, with a slight delay, was loudly spoken in Russian translation over top of the  quieter German.  It created an unintentional yet effective alienation effect that was not completely unpleasant.  Luckily I knew the story that Sokurov was telling very well and the images were every bit as ravishing as one might expect from this master.