Remembering Leonard Cohen

November 12, 2016 § Leave a comment

Leonard Cohen, in concert. France, 1970 (Photo by P. Ullman/Roger Viollet/Getty Images)

Leonard Cohen, in concert. France, 1970 (Photo by P. Ullman/Roger Viollet/Getty Images)

News of Leonard Cohen’s death on the heels of the Presidential election was a bruise upon a blow. He had been much on my mind lately, as I’d just listened to an audio interview he did at the Canadian Consulate in Los Angeles on the release of his new album “You Want It Darker,” and read David Remnick’s recent profile of him in the New Yorker. Although he was 82 and frail, Cohen was on a late career roll. It didn’t seem as if the new album would be his last.

Like a lot of people, I discovered Leonard Cohen though Judy Collins’ covers of his songs “Suzanne,” “The Stranger Song” and “Sisters of Mercy.” Later I came to prefer his own versions of those songs and others, finding nuance that the singers who covered them lacked. I don’t know why I never saw him in concert, but I did encounter him on one of his recent tours, walking toward me through a Bay Area hotel lobby in a dapper suit and fedora. His handsome guitarist caught my eye first, and by the time I registered Cohen’s surprising appearance he had almost passed by. Though we were all staying at the hotel I saw only the guitarist again, to my regret.

Earlier this year I wrote about a screening of Robert Altman’s “McCabe and Mrs. Miller” that commemorated the cinematography of Vilmos Zsigmond, who died on New Year’s Day. One of the things I liked most about the film was its score: three perfect songs by Leonard Cohen, sung by him. Despite all the articles and obituaries that have been printed this week, “McCabe and Mrs. Miller” remains my favorite tribute to Cohen’s work. Here’s a link to the post, which includes a clip from the film:

Revisiting “McCabe and Mrs. Miller,” Robert Altman and Vilmos Zsigmond’s Western Masterpiece

March 15, 2016 § 2 Comments

William Devane, Kathryn Altman and Keith Carradine at Ahrya Fine Arts Movie Theater, Beverly Hills on 3/2/16/Hope Anderson Productions

William Devane, Kathryn Altman and Keith Carradine at Ahrya Fine Arts Movie Theater, Beverly Hills on 3/2/16/Hope Anderson Productions

Two weeks ago, Laemmle Theaters screened Robert Altman’s 1971 Western “McCabe and Mrs. Miller” in tribute to its cinematographer, Vilmos Zsigmond, who died on New Year’s Day. A prime example of the 1970s Western revival that includes such films as “Jeremiah Johnson,” “Pat McGarrett and Billy the Kid” and “Little Big Man,” “McCabe” was initially perceived as a showcase for its famous stars, Warren Beatty and Julie Christie, a real-life couple at the time. Thirty-five years later, it is better known for Keith Carradine’s debut, Leonard Cohen’s beautiful songs and, perhaps most of all, for Zsigmond’s brilliant photography.

No one who has seen “McCabe” could forget its climactic shoot-out, or the opening scene, a long pan over the mountainous landscape that Beatty traverses on horseback, disguised by his huge bearskin coat:

The Q & A afterwards featured Robert Altman’s widow, Kathryn, and the actors Keith Carradine and William Devane. All spoke fondly of the shoot, which took place in Vancouver and featured real snow, real carpenters (some of whom lived on set) and communal living in a nearby subdivision. Carradine, only 21 at the time and fresh off the Broadway run of “Hair,” talked about his death scene (being yanked off his horse by a wire into freezing water) and the magic of the roughly six-minute, music-free shootout that ends the film. It couldn’t happen in movies today, he said, with their omnipresent scores. (I agree: the fact that the score of “McCabe” consists almost entirely of three Leonard Cohen songs seems in retrospect wildly, wonderfully new. Someone should try it again, dispensing with the sonic wall that too often serves as an emotional crutch in today’s films.)

Six days later, I was shocked to hear that Kathryn Altman had died suddenly of a heart attack. Though she was 91, she seemed far younger, and her death was unexpected. The screening of “McCabe and Mrs. Miller,” at which she paid tribute to the late Vilmos Zsigmond, was her last public appearance.

Not Quite As I Remembered It: My Third Encounter With “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”

February 27, 2016 § Leave a comment

The Mother Ship in "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"

The Mother Ship in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”

I first saw “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” on the big screen, when it was new. I was a teenager and thought it was brilliant, apart from too much time spent sculpting (in clay, mashed potatoes, dirt and rocks) by Richard Dreyfuss, the Devils Tower-obsessed protagonist. What stuck in my mind afterwards were the immense spaceship, the lights of the UFOs streaking across the night sky, and the otherworldly light in the farmhouse where the little boy and his mother lived. And, of course, the unforgettable pentatonic scale that the aliens used to communicate. Like Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey,” “Close Encounters” was a special effects masterpiece.

The second time I saw “Close Encounters” was on video sometime in the 80s. By then François Truffaut had died (of cancer at 52), and I was as focused on his strong performance as the lead scientist as I was on the story and effects. I’d forgotten a lot of the details and thought the film could have been considerably shorter, but the effects were still impressive.

The third time I saw it was last weekend, again on the big screen. It was shown as part of the American Cinematheque’s tribute to the cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond, who won an Academy Award for his work on “Close Encounters.” It was the film’s only Oscar, and no one deserved it more than Zsigmond. As his colleague James Chressanthis described, “Close Encounters” was such a difficult shoot that when Zsigmond was fired (more than once), no other cinematographer would take over, forcing his return.

The technical challenges were enormous. There were multiple, far-flung locations, each with its difficulties. The film that was used in the 70’s demanded more lighting than today’s, which resulted in vast shipments of lights to the main location in Alabama (and a corresponding shortage in Los Angeles). The set for the spaceship landing area was housed a vast dirigible hanger that was further enlarged, necessitating even more lighting. Add to these logistics the fact “Close Encounters” was filmed before CGI: all the effects were done with models that had to be shot separately in 70mm and matched to the 35mm film. The effects budget was so large–$3.3 million of the $18 million total–that Douglas Trumbull, the visual effects supervisor, joked that it could have paid for another film.

Yet the effects and cinematography remain the best things about “Close Encounters,” despite advances in cameras and CGI in the decades since it was shot. Other aspects of the film that should have aged better than the effects haven’t fared as well. The script (credited to Spielberg but written with four other screenwriters, including Paul Schrader) is unwieldy and lacking in character development. Women and children are stick figures, and less interesting than the aliens (who, unlike them, have no lines). Dreyfuss, never a subtle actor, chews the scenery so much that it’s hard to fathom why Melinda Dillon would spend two minutes in his company, much less climb Devils Tower with him. And Spielberg’s obsession with angelic little boys, absent fathers and overwhelmed single mothers plays better in “E.T.” For anyone who has seen both,” “Close Encounters” sometimes resembles a rehearsal for the later film.

These significant problems keep the film from being a masterpiece, but they don’t diminish Vilmos Zsigmond’s achievement in the least. Along with the work of Douglas Trumbull and Carlo Rambaldi (who created the aliens, and later E.T.), his work stands the test of time: nearly forty years later, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” remains beautiful and awe-inspiring. It’s well worth watching again, in as large a format as possible.

Remembering Vilmos Zsigmond

February 4, 2016 § Leave a comment

Vilmos Zsigmond

Vilmos Zsigmond

Although the great cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond died unexpectedly on New Year’s Day, I missed the news and didn’t learn of his passing until yesterday. I was amazed to learn that he was 85, since he always looked much younger and worked constantly, amassing a hundred credits as a cinematographer. According to IMDB, he had five projects lined up, an astonishing workload for someone in the sixth decade of his career.

Among Zsigmond’s many features are “The Long Goodbye,” “McCabe and Mrs. Miller,” “Deliverance,” “The Deer Hunter,” “Blow Out” and “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” for which he won an Oscar. (He was nominated three other times, for “The Deer Hunter, “The River,” and “The Black Dahlia.”) Unlike a lot of cinematographers, he didn’t impose a visual signature on his films. Instead, he paid close attention to their scripts and shot accordingly. Perhaps because he was a director himself, he was particular about those he worked with. After shooting Steven Spielberg’s debut, “The Sugarland Express,” and later “Close Encounters,” he decided that Spielberg saw him as “a glorified cameraman” and never shot another of his films.

I met Vilmos Zsigmond only once, at a filmmaking seminar in 1999. After finishing his talk, he settled in the audience for the rest of the program, sitting in my row. Because we had a mutual friend, I moved over and introduced myself. He was charming, we chatted, and for the next hour we were instant friends. The next segment featured some producers, and during the Q&A an audience member asked how they handled difficult directors. Vilmos laughed merrily and said to me, “I tell zem, ‘Gettout of my shot!”

Yet he was notably generous, often making his directors’ work look better than it was–see “Heaven’s Gate.” He also made a point of working with younger directors, including first-timers. (With the exception of Kevin Smith, who refused to vary his shots, they tended to take his advice.) He also worked in TV, most recently on “The Mindy Project,” for which he shot twenty-four episodes.

Zsigmond was a both product of Hungary and a victim of it. In 1956, he and his friend and fellow film student László Kovács escaped the revolution together, filming as they went. After making their way to Los Angeles, the two worked on documentaries and horror films before getting their big breaks. (Kovács shot such classics as “Easy Rider,” “Five Easy Pieces,” “Ghostbusters” and the perfect “Paper Moon.”)

Kovács died in 2007; now, with Zsigmond gone, the era of great Hungarian cinematographers in Hollywood has come to an end. Fortunately for us, their films live on.

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