SWEET CHARITY: Blu-ray (Universal, 1969) Kino Lorber
The sixties’
road show musical extravaganza reached its point of no return in 1969; hardly a
banner year for the big, bloated Broadway-to-Hollywood hybrid of which Bob
Fosse’s Sweet Charity (1969) endures as the most exuberant of all the
albatrosses, unlikely destined for any sort of artistic reprieve. Gwen Verdon,
star of the show’s Broadway incarnation – and Fosse’s wife - had, by now, run
out of reasons to stay with her philandering spouse. Though they would never
divorce, Verdon would separate from Fosse in 1971. And thus, for better or
worse, and likely due to all this backstage acrimony, she was out of the running
for consideration to do this super-inflated movie. In her absence, Shirley
MacLaine came into view, and with Verdon’s behind-the-scenes coaching, almost
managed to recapture that elusive spark of optimism for which Verdon’s
taxi-dancing daydreamer had won all the accolades on the stage. Certainly, no
one could challenge MacLaine’s boundless energy. And MacLaine had already
played her share of prostitutes in the movies. So, Charity Valentine was hardly
a stretch. Even so, MacLaine and Charity never quite come together – MacLaine,
excelling at the dances, yet somehow lacking during the more dramatic bits. Sweet
Charity began life as Federico Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria (1957),
before morphing into Fosse’s Broadway revamp, directed and choreographed by the
master; then again, and finally, the movie – Fosse, marking his big screen
directorial debut. Alas, in transferring Fellini’s oeuvre from stage to screen
all of the gusty, gaudy/bawdy electricity Fosse had poured into his stagecraft
seemed to inexplicably evaporate.
Determined at considerable expense to duplicate the ‘show’s’ razzamatazz
on a big Panavision screen, Fosse instead managed to violate the memory of his
original; also, Fellini’s source material, creating a glitzy glam-bam – all
bounce, but no substance - that suffered from too much of too little.
On stage, Sweet
Charity slinked along on a vapor of almost cat-like prowess and delectable
raunch; Fosse’s now trademarked choreography, introducing an entirely new and
much more adult flavor, showcasing some of his best footwork and stage
illusions. With the eccentric Gwen Verdon as his star (and behind the scenes
collaborator), it mattered not the plot of a taxi dancer aspiring to greener
pastures, though sadly – and chronically – winding up more than a bit short on
‘happily ever afters’, was threadbare at best. Fosse’s artistry had
elevated this needle prick of a scenario into an erotically lush and evocative
homage about those ‘ten cents a dance’ gals and the seedy little buggers who
employ them. There were still sparks of brilliance to be had in the movie if
one could patiently sit through the interminably long stretches of tedium
book-ending them. Although there was nothing to touch the stunningly imaginative
‘Rich Man’s Frug’, as example, the movie settles into a horrible mishmash
of mangled stylistic elements. These utterly fail to come together in as much
as pile up like a train wreck, Fosse throwing everything in his bag of tricks
at the camera, leaving one stultified and drowning in the sea of excess.
Shirley MacLaine
is the romantically hamstrung, Charity Hope Valentine – so clueless in love she
easily falls for small-time hood, Charlie (Dante D’Paulo) who shortly
thereafter pushes her off a bridge in Central Park merely to steal her purse.
MacLaine must have seemed a natural for the part; having already played joyful
prostitutes in Cole Porter’s Can-Can (1960) and Billy Wilder’s Erma
La Douce (1963). The problem was not in MacLaine’s believability to play
the ebullient tart; rather, that she was not Gwen Verdon, and therefore
considered the lesser in Verdon’s shadow; particularly by the New York critics
who fondly lingered on the memory of Miss Verdon’s leggy kicks and
larger-than-life cavorting on the stage. Try as she might, MacLaine could not
eclipse Verdon’s reputation; nor, it seems, was she able to inspire Fosse to do
anything more than merely experiment with new ways to diminish the formidable
skill sets she brought to the table; Fosse’s staging of his own numbers
different, arguably cinematic, yet, not nearly as inventive as his stagecraft.
The tragedy that
befell Sweet Charity is it might have fared better without Fosse, or at
least without Fosse’s ego challenging itself to outdo his own creativity on a
project already firmly declared a masterpiece by the critics and even more
permanently preserved as perfection itself in the hearts and minds of theater
goers. Reviewing the film today, one is immediately drawn to the dynamism in
its musical sequences. The stagecraft’s visuals had been impressionistic; Verdon,
as example, resurrecting a marching band in her own head with shadowy figures
dancing across a painted backdrop for ‘I’m A Brass Band’. Nailing down
these lyrics to a more concrete visual interpretation in the movie ultimately
deprives them of their intangibly imaginative quality. There is no point to
suggest Charity’s blind-sided joy as she floats on a cloud of love; Fosse
instead showing us MacLaine in full parade grand marshal regalia, accompanied
by a thirty-piece marching band; Fosse, inexplicably using the moment to take
us on a jaunty Cook’s tour of lower Manhattan. His introduction to our heroine
is even more benign, utilizing freeze frames, slow-motion and colored filters
to express Charity’s various moods as she bounces in and out of foot traffic,
peers into shop windows and deliriously spins about the reservoir en route to
her Central Park rendezvous with Charlie.
Sweet Charity ought to have
worked, chiefly because Fosse had his way with the casting; hand-picking Paula
Kelly and Chita Rivera as MacLaine’s taxi-dancing cohorts, and choosing Sammy
Davis Jr. for the plum cameo, as psychedelic hippie cult leader, Big Daddy.
Fosse also accepted Latin Lothario, Ricardo Montalban as his Vittorio; briefly
Charity’s love interest until his main squeeze, Ursula (Barbara Bouchet) comes
slinking back into his life. Interestingly, Peter Stone’s screenplay stuck very
close to Neil Simon’s original, right down to his placement of the intermission
break. Alas, at the last possible moment, Universal balked and requested Fosse
re-shoot an alternative ending in which Charity and her latest lover, Oscar
(John McMartin) are reunited. Ultimately, the studio agreed with Fosse; that
the original – ‘hopeful’ ending – made more sense; though only after
both versions had been shot and screened. At a staggering cost of $20 million, Sweet
Charity’s epic implosion at the box office (it made back barely $8 million) speaks not only to the changing times and tastes (audiences having all but
forsaken musicals) but also to the ineffectiveness of the art Fosse had
wrought. Nothing could erase the critic’s pall that had branded it a lousy
picture, despite Fosse’s best intentions, or perhaps, because of his meddling
to improve upon his own greatness. The movie’s thud threatened to ruin
Universal. Certainly, it ended Fosse’s aspirations to become a director of some
stature in film musicals, although he would redeem himself with Cabaret
(1972) and his semi-autobiographical, All That Jazz (1979). Arguably, Sweet
Charity – the movie – required neither the girth of 70mm 6-track stereo
Panavision, nor 2 ½ hours to tell its simple, flawed love story. What had
worked on the stage could not benefit the screen adaptation, forcing Fosse to
rethink his artistry while remaining too close to his own work to
re-conceptualize it effectively. Try as he might – and did – to will a
spark of cohesive brilliance into the production, the narrative instead became
a series of episodic vignettes with MacLaine’s diminutive trollop our master of
ceremonies through this oddity odyssey.
After a lengthy
overture, Sweet Charity opens with Charity Hope Valentine jubilantly
perusing New York shop windows under the main credits; Fosse, periodically
freeze-framing the action, presumably, to punctuate her giddy excitement –
also, to allow audiences the opportunity to read the titles. She arrives at the
footbridge a blushing/gushing woman in love, declaring to boyfriend, Charlie
that today the whole of New York is her ‘Personal Property’. He placates
her for as long as he can, before seizing Charity’s purse and tossing her into
the lake. Returning bedraggled to her place of employment, a seedy dance hall
run by the lovably frazzled, Herman (Stubby Kaye), Charity settles into the
world-weariness of her two coworkers, Nickie (Chita Rivera) and Helene (Paula
Kelly), each having seen the promise of true love die too many times; now, jaded
and wary of even attempting the plunge, much less taking it. The trio take
turns declaring ‘There's Gotta Be Something Better Than This’, sharing
their daydreams and aspirations for a better life somewhere far removed from
their present set of circumstances. Alas, duty calls, and the girls retreat to
their places inside the dance hall, encouraging their latest clientele to put
their money where their mouth is; coolly cooing, hey, ‘Big Spender’. Determined to find love before it’s too late,
Charity stumbles into director and womanizer extraordinaire, Vittorio Vidal
(Ricardo Montalban). He is on the rebound from a temporary breakup with Ursula,
taking Charity to one of Manhattan’s chicest nightclubs where she marvels at
the heavily mascaraed and decidedly effete jet set, performing ‘The Rich
Man’s Frug’; undeniably, the most vigorously overproduced production number
in the movie; full of Fosse’s matchless choreographic gestures, impeccably
performed by dancer Suzanne Charny and an entourage of stiffly postured live
mannequins. If only the rest of the film had lived up to this sensational
moment, Sweet Charity would likely have been cemented for posterity as
an innovative cinema classic.
Afterward,
Vittorio takes Charity to his penthouse apartment for casual sex. Ducking into
his boudoir to change out of his ruffled shirt and tuxedo, Charity is left to
her own accord in lavish surroundings, declaring, her friends would never
believe her, ‘If They Could See Me Now’. Fosse’s attempts to transform
this introspective moment into a full-blown solo for MacLaine fall flat;
chiefly because what worked on the stage (dramatic lighting effects to isolate
the star and punctuate her direct address to the audience) is never as
affecting on the screen. Afterward, Vittorio launches into a grand seduction;
the moment, interrupted when Ursula arrives for a reconciliation. Instead of
throwing her out, Vittorio tosses Charity into his closet while he and his
paramour are reunited. Hours pass. But only after Vittorio and Ursula have consummated
their love once more, does he quietly let Charity out; quickly escorting her to
the door with very shallow encouragement she will find someone new. This blow
to her conceit does not last for very long, as Charity next encounters Oscar Lindquist
(John McMartin) on her way to apply for a secretarial job. Oscar panics after
the lights go out in the elevator and is comforted by Charity, who takes pity
on him, gradually coaxing Oscar out of his sweaty-palmed claustrophobia. In
gratitude for the compassion she has shown him, Oscar pursues a romantic relationship
with Charity that is doomed to failure as it is predicated on nothing more than
remuneration for her kindness. The two become engaged and Charity takes Oscar
to meet her guru, Big Daddy (Sammy Davis Jr.), a self-professed spiritualist
who operates The Rhythm of Life ‘church’ from an underground parking
garage. Oscar is decidedly out of his element among Charity’s friends; a
discovery made even more disturbingly apparent when he realizes what her
profession is and who her real friends are. Meanwhile, Charity has come to the
dance hall to announce her retirement from ‘the life’.
While picking out her trousseau, Charity’s naïve verve is stirred,
enough for her to declare, ‘I’m a Brass Band’. Indeed, this time it
really looks as though things will happen for her. Enthralled by the news,
Herman elects to give the bride away with a gaudy engagement party at the dance
hall; Charity’s friends and former clients gathering to celebrate, ‘I Love to
Cry at Weddings’. But by now, the waspish Oscar has unequivocally decided
he cannot wed Charity. She isn’t the girl for him. Besides, his mother would
never approve, despite the fact Charity has endeavored with every fiber in her
being to remake herself as his demure ‘little woman’. Heart sore and
distraught, Charity heads for Central Park, even contemplating suicide as she
commiserates, ‘Where Am I Going?’ Embraced by a gaggle of flower
children, who offer her sincerity and a message of hope and love, Charity
elects to begin her life anew. She will not go back to taxi dancing. Will
things be better for her this time around? Fosse seems to suggest as much, a
title card reading, ‘…and she lived ‘hopefully’ ever after.’
At intervals, Sweet
Charity is very much imbued with flashes of Fosse’s inspired brilliance. In
fact, Fosse gives us everything he has to offer – and yet, strangely, it’s never
enough, or perhaps merely too much of a good thing - an exercise in genius
trying much too hard to impress. Whatever the reason, the movie is hardly
perfect and this is its shame. While some musicals from the sixties have decidedly
matured with age, Sweet Charity increasingly seems more a sterile relic
from its own time. Fosse stumbles about his milieu as though discovering it for
the very first time from a novice’s perspective. Occasionally, he reveals the
absolute virtuosity in his craft. Sadly, there are all too few such moments in
the picture to hold an audience captive for nearly 3 hrs. In the final
analysis, Sweet Charity is heavy-handed, tiresome an overall deflating;
at times, a highly frustrating experience to wade through, not because it lacks
verve, but rather, as it appears to be overwhelmed by too much of it.
Kino Lorber’s
Blu-ray release has been delayed several times and will ‘officially’ arrive
later this month. The wait has been well worth it, as Universal – the custodians
of this deep catalog release – have seen fit to go back and remaster and restore Sweet
Charity from the ground up. The results are breathtaking. The new 4K is
likely derived from original 70mm elements as color values and overall clarity are crystal clear, robust and
hearty. It’s the boldness of the color palette one immediately notices; the
blood-red uniforms of the marching band, or the gaudy Chinese red, mustard
yellow and violent purple ensembles worn by MacLaine, Rivera and Kelly during
their rooftop fandango. Every stitch of fine detail that can be gleaned from
these original elements has shown up on this disc, and ‘wow!!!!’ are the
results impressive! Contrast is exceptional. No black crush. Whites are
pristine, though never glowing. Age-related artifacts – gone. Uni has also gone
back to original 6-track magnetic stereo masters and the score, now fully
restored in 5.1 DTS (or 2.0) will blow you out of your seat; bass – thumping,
treble – trilling, and, voices raised in all their fanatically insane
and heart-palpitating joy. Truly, if only more classic movies could look as good as Sweet Charity on Blu-ray, there would be very little to write
and/or complain about. Arguably, the original elements were in
exceptionally fine condition, having been expertly archived and only
occasionally brought out for a reissue in the intervening decades. But we
really should tip our hats to Universal for doing right by this deep catalog
title – even if the movie is less impressive than their efforts put forth to bring it to hi-def. Kino gives us both versions of the ending, and,
befitting a quality affair, each version gets a separate Blu-ray! Classy! Best
of all, we get extra features: a comprehensive commentary track from historian,
Kat Ellinger, liner notes by Julie Kirgo (who is a huge fan of this movie), and, dated
shorts on costume designer, Edith Head, and Charity’s journey ‘From Stage to Screen’.
Bottom line: Sweet Charity is a movie imbued with remarkable qualities
that, in the last analysis, do not entirely add up to celluloid greatness. That said, there is a lot here to admire. The
Blu-ray is perfect. Highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out
of 5 - 5 being the best)
3
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+
EXTRAS
3.5
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