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Posted: |
Feb 6, 2008 - 11:00 AM
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By: |
Ron Pulliam
(Member)
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He basically calls his output there -- and film music, in general -- "crap." There's no modesty in his writing about himself
You can't fault a man for being honest. Rude, perhaps - but if thats the way he thinks, at least he's willing to tell you such. Its a sign of good character to me.
(By chance, did he say why he thought film music was crap?)
There's an elitist snobbery in his words that would lead one to believe he had better things to offer the world of music.
Apart from being a very good conductor (Alfred Newman was a GREAT composer), Previn's offerings to the world of music haven't been as great, IMO, as his film work. But then Previn thinks his film work was garbage.
I don't understand this part.
You say he's a jerk but that you like his film music, which he hates so he somehow has to be right?
Doesn't that mean you're agreeing with something you disagreed with?
First, I never called him "a jerk." I called him an "elitist snob". And I'm not sure what you've confused in what I said. I said his film work was terrific, but that Previn is dismissive of his film work. I never once intimated that he was correct in his self-assessment of his film work.
I LOVE Previn's film work. I never said I didn't. I do find it ironic and sad, however, that he holds it in such disdain when he's never done anything better in his "classical" career.
Read his book. It's MOST revealing as to the attitude he held when he wrote it. (There's a copy on eBay right now for $6 -- a Buy It Now! And it's well worth the asking price. It's a good book even though Previn dismisses most of his Hollywood work).
I'd love it if he'd cast off all that put-on snobbishness and score another film.
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Yes, that review referred to a different program than the one we were discussing. (It seems increasingly fortunate to me that I never heard of Page Cook until he was long dead!)
Yes, there seems to be some confusion regarding two different shows. In the same 1979 FIR issue in which Page Cook reviewed the 1978 show that he called “The Music That Made the Movies,” (the title used in the original post), he also reviewed the second show:
“The second installment of Previn’s filmusic tv-concerts was recently shown through the auspices of WQED Pittsburgh and merely titled “Previn & The Pittsburgh.” The program commenced with Previn conducting the PSO playing the famous 8-bar fanfare Alfred Newman composed for 20th Century-Fox (including the CinemaScope extension). Previn immediately launched into an infirm joke about fanfares, combining the J. Arthur Rank and MGM logos, with “having someone hitting a lion.” More seriously, Previn embarked on a thinly veiled diatribe against Max Steiner, whom he grudgingly admitted may have been the dean of filmusic of the ‘30s but “whose schtick was heavy emotion,” labeling Steiner “a simple composer of tunes” who “constantly wore his heart on his sleeve” and that after having written music for 18 Bette Davis films deserved “some kind of medal.” The truth of this matter is that while Steiner’s emotion may have been combustible it was always touched with a richness of invention and pure beauty that gave us some of the century’s most beautiful music. Previn proceeded to conduct the Main Title and Finale from Steiner’s moving Oscar-winning score to Now, Voyager. Yet another aspect of Previn’s often insidious filmusic patronizing made itself manifest in his conducting, eliciting from the PSO the kind of exaggerated sawing of violins certain anti-filmusic factions feel part-&-parcel of movie kitsch. Steiner, even in his most romantic hey-day, was never guilty of such overt bathos. Previn’s gyrations at the podium reminded me of Adrian Woodford’s comment that Previn should only be allowed to conduct with a paper bag over his head.
This led to another Previn-instigated denigration of filmusic in the outlandish comment that composers who spent all their energies writing for the screen were not as interesting as composers who wrote in various media (Rembrandt might be similarly impugned for merely painting). This was meant, I suppose, as a kindly gesture of introduction by Previn to his guests, Dr. Miklos Rozsa and John Williams, both of whom he informed us have written “serious” music as well as music for the screen. Rozsa was asked about his filmusic origins and told the oft-quoted story about his friendship with Honneger and how Rozsa found the medium of films an exciting and stimulating one. Dr. Rozsa, charming, handsome and warm as ever, did not seem aware of, or could have cared less about, the hostility lurking in Previn’s eyes and only when Previn attempted to disdain the general filmusic community of Forties Hollywood, did Rozsa summarily cut him off. Previn quickly recovered and with much patent alacrity agreed that there were some outstanding composers (Bernard Herrmann being the artist over whom Previn had picked the point to quibble). A moronic joke by Previn about an electric blanket he brought to Herrmann on the recording stages of the scoring of The Day the Earth Stood Still was not appreciated by Herrmann, he confessed…nor the audience. Previn then played 3 sequences from what he termed “a cult score from a cult film”: Herrmann’s masterful Psycho (Flight; Marion’s Murder; Finale). His tempos were well chosen but the entrance on the violins weaving the fragmented melodic contour was awkwardly handled. For the shrieking, unforgettable effect Herrmann conjured for the knife strokes slashing Marion Crane to death in the shower (reiterated sharp downbow strokes and glissandos heightened by wide spacing of the constituent notes and the use of the extreme high register of each instrument in reverb) the camera cut from the massed violins to Previn’s face, an instance of creative, though inadvertent, screen drama wholly appropriate.
Previn chatted more with Rozsa, who told an amusing story regarding how Stravinsky, being sought out by Louis B. Mayer, was sent packing by the legendary Hollywood mogul when the composer innocently enough requested a year to write his film score. Previn’s snide aside, “Hooray for Hollywood,” was more of his sophomoric cheap shots (this quip was gotten off first by Williams actually, but echoed by Previn with emphasized sarcasm). Rozsa, ignoring this, was pressed into naming some of his film scores that he liked, answering “Quo Vadis? and El Cid…and I don’t dislike Ben-Hur.” (Previn earlier had the gall to ask Rozsa if “anyone ever sat down and compiled a list of the number of films you scored?”—after which Rozsa said “Over 100.” Previn opened his eyes in feigned amazement, muttering “I’m impressed.”) Another Previn gaucherie occurred when he equated Rozsa with John Williams in that they were both composers who always dealt with epic subjects. This piece of unmitigated presumption obviously embarrassed the kindly Williams who sank deeper into his seat with each Previn empiricism. (Williams, to his further credit, constantly deferred to Rozsa whenever a question was addressed to them.)
Rozsa then conducted the Overture, Love Theme and Parade of the Charioteers from Ben-Hur. The PSO’s strings were insufficiently radiant and Rozsa could only manage an adequate performance, though the Parade came to life under his exuberant control.
Williams then spoke of the difficulties in writing lengthy scores for large-scale productions and confessed he’d done the Superman score in less than 10 weeks (averaging 10 minutes of music a week!). Previn eagerly pointed out the illiteracy of past Hollywood producers, also noting the ignorance of today’s new breed of schooled young directors who “don’t give a damn for the composer,’ to which Rozsa quickly added, “He would give a damn but the people who have the money don’t let him!”
After downgrading Steiner’s Now, Voyager again, Previn asked Williams to conduct music from a score he “deeply admired,” Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Williams began with the dissonant string crescendo building up to the riveting C-major chord that opens the film, segued into a bit of the music for the arrival at Sky Harbor, and finally soared into the gracious finale. Not a few clinkers were heard in the PSO’s playing despite Williams’ good conducting (the visuals were interesting laser effects of some creativity which eventually faded into shots of the orchestra when the music correspondingly arrived at the score’s humanity). CEOTTK will prove, I think, to be Williams masterpiece. After this, Williams led the orchestra through the Concert Overture romp from Superman in an enjoyable reading. Williams’ recent loss of the Oscar for this fine score (to the non-musical drek of Giorgio Moroder’s Midnight Express) is merely another instance of poor judgment on the part of the ‘august Academy,’ the list of worthy scores not winning Oscar being legion, recalling to mind the witty comment that Academy members listen to film scores with organs other than their ears! (Williams incidentally, was not happy with the way the Superman tracks were laid into the film, nor the balances and execrable pressings of the cheaply produced Warners album.)
The program concluded with Previn walking onto the empty set (a tasteful one with two large strips in the background) and picking up his coat and music as the unseen orchestra struck up the coda to Warner Bros. ‘Looney Tunes’ cartoons (“Th-th-th-that’s all folks!”). Previn shrugged in a rather snollygoster fashion that might have looked cute on Little Lord Fauntleroy but made Previn seem lamebrained, then walked off.
Rozsa’s presence made the show worthwhile, as did Williams’ two brief suites. But, if Mr. Previn continues to snipe at the art of filmusic, he should not associate himself with such programs in the future. I am well reminded of Henry Hart’s telling insight into Previn: “Never forget that he runs with the hares and chases with the hounds.”
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Cook was passionate.
Previn had (has?) a nasal inflection in his voice that may seem to some like snootiness when listening to him talk.
Reading his words, however, can be done without the sound of his voice.
As for Bette Davis films....she made a string of excellent A-films ANY composer might have been PROUD to have scored. Not only are those scores among the best written in a period of excellent film music, but they can be said/seen to have been the inspiration for some of the composers' best work.
And, finally, Previn will never have as lasting an impression on any medium as Max Steiner had on the movies.
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Cook seems to take offense where there isn't any. Steiner's music is "heart on the sleeve" - will anyone here deny that? He did score all those Betty Davis movies - will anyone here say that scoring over 10, nevermind 30 films of that genre is easy?
Perhaps the cited comments can be taken as neutral ones. But according to Previn, Steiner doesn't have a style, he has a "schtick." And he fails to live up to some higher standard of composing by being "a simple composer of tunes." Certainly not praise. Not even neutral comments, I daresay.
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Posted: |
Feb 6, 2008 - 2:02 PM
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By: |
LeHah
(Member)
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And, finally, Previn will never have as lasting an impression on any medium as Max Steiner had on the movies.
Apples and glassware sets, really. Each had their specific talents.
But according to Previn, Steiner doesn't have a style, he has a "schtick." And he fails to live up to some higher standard of composing by being "a simple composer of tunes." Certainly not praise. Not even neutral comments, I daresay.
The style / schtick arguement doesn't hold water. I could replace the word "schtick" with "chicken" and the sentence still makes sense.
A simple composer of tunes is an apt description if you're familiar with much of Steiner's work. Its heavy, lush and simple - thats not a bad thing. Similarly, if I said Don Davis was a very complex composer - I wouldn't be wrong, but some might construe that as my saying hes more "intelligent" or what-have-you.
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The style / schtick arguement doesn't hold water. I could replace the word "schtick" with "chicken" and the sentence still makes sense.
I guess it would, if we thought Previn was discussing Steiner's eating habits rather than his composing abilities.
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He must've seen something else because not only did none of the music listed in your post play in the version I saw - but Previn was a very warm and humorous host!
Actually you're almost accurate, in that we're referring to our original review, and it was an entirely different program (we believe Previn and the Pittsburgh: Music That Made the Movies had at least two separate installments in 1978, and the one we wrote about didn't (again, alas) have Rozsa as guest but did have "Johnnie" - as Previn referred to his old friend).
Wish us luck, we're still searchin' ... 
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I wonder - was the show recorded on tape or on film?
Perhaps it was acid-etched into metal by Previn's tongue?
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I am well reminded of Henry Hart’s telling insight into Previn: “Never forget that he runs with the hares and chases with the hounds.”
That's the key to it. He knows what to say for what context he's in. The thing about 'No Minor Chords' is that, yes, it has inaccuracies (Rozsa scored 'Barabbas'?), but you have to ask why he bothered to write it in the first place. He didn't need the money, he might've, at that stage in his career, just buried that era and diverted the spotlight to something else. Similarly, the Pittsburgh was his to do with in those programmes as he chose: he didn't HAVE to include film music. He praises Rozsa throughout that book as a fine composer who did meticulous research that wasn't really necessary. Well, it WASN'T, but Rozsa still did it, and was praised for it. Previn cared all right: he just was honest about the material he was scoring, which was invariably worse than the scores.
I have an old VHS of Previn interviewing Williams in the 80s. He does start off with an anecdote about how, apparently, Universal wanted Miklos Rozsa to write a SONG with the actual title lyric, as a Prelude for a late 40s film 'Kiss the Blood Off My Hands' which Rozsa of course derided, but he praises Williams and his 'whole drawerfuls' of unpublished concert works etc., which he urged him to record.
But they're all showmen: they tread this fine line and give different approaches: in Previn's case, his stance is, 'Hollywood is philistine, but great people worked there.' That's the only way some in the classical establishment will give a hearing at all. It's ONE way to do it.
Previn actually had his own chatshow in the UK, for which he wrote a great little string title sequence. It wasn't music-orientated, and it flopped. He doesn't do that terribly well. But even that's subjective.
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