Lucky Adelaide

As musicals go, they don’t get much cooler than “Guys and Dolls.” Brought to the big screen in 1955 by director Joe Mankiewicz, the film is adapted from the hit Broadway play set among New York City gamblers, show girls and missionaries of all things.

The restoration of Amy Winehouse

Amy Winehouse

Amy Winehouse

When I first heard Amy Winehouse’s breakout hit, “Rehab,” I was not impressed. I’m not fond of the 1950s sound that was being emulated, and the basic defiant lyrics were sending a simple message that seemed pretty unhealthy to me. Although I never judge a music artist by one track, I didn’t rush right out to hear the other songs on Winehouse’s “Back to Black” album, even though so many people whose musical taste I respected were completely in love with it.  

It was around six months later that I was riding in my niece’s car, and she started playing Winehouse’s first album, “Frank.” From the first track – “Stronger than Me” – I was hooked. Every song resonated with me, especially the lyrics. And because I am a tremendous jazz fan, I was excited by Winehouse’s interpretations of jazz standards, especially on the deluxe edition of “Frank.” Her love and respect for jazz immediately took her to the top of my list of current favorite female vocalists – a space she shared with Lizz Wright.

But even though Winehouse was one of my favorite musical artists, I foolishly took her voice for granted until my mother heard a Winehouse song in my car and asked, “Who is that? She can really sing.” My mother does not hand out such compliments casually, and she’s from the old school, when people really did sing. As I answered her I thought, “She’s right. Amy really can sing.” It may seem absurd, but her incredible voice was not even the first thing that registered with me when hearing her music. It was the totality of the lyrics, music and voice. I also loved that she was a musician – even writing an unexpected love song to her guitar called “Cherry.” And she was all about the band, passionately railing against the use of “fake” instruments in her music.

Thanks to the media, everyone knew Winehouse was a troubled artist, but that often comes with the territory for the great ones, and I hoped she would somehow overcome her demons, outpace her self-destructive nature. Sadly, she did not, and the road to her untimely demise plays out logically, albeit senselessly, in the documentary “Amy,” released last weekend.

The best thing about the documentary for me was hearing her vocals on so many unreleased tracks. I was blown away by her cover of “Moon River” from when she sang with the National Youth Jazz Orchestra in London as a teenager. Many superlatives have been used to describe her singing style, but even though her poignancy comes across in her studio releases, hearing her on the outtakes and in live performances in the film was deeply moving. Director Asif Kapadia displayed the lyrics for many of the songs as she sang, which I thought was an effective way to ensure the audience was conscious of her brilliant lyrics especially since her delivery would never be described as crisp.

Kapadia was blessed with a lot of footage and commentary from all the major players in Winehouse’s life, including her family and closest friends. Watching this film, I was able to appreciate her love of her craft and her work ethic when she was allowed the time and space to create. I saw the obsessive love she felt for her husband and the toxic concoction of their relationship unfold to a nearly lethal end. I learned how desperate she was for boundaries in her youth as well as her father’s love and acceptance. I was impressed with how self-aware and endearing she was with her real friends, even when she screwed up, and with her genuine respect and admiration for her idols like Tony Bennett. I was appalled but not surprised by the media’s efforts to devour her. And I was amazed that this beautiful, talented woman was so determined to evade her suffering with even more suffering, so much so that her heart finally just stopped.

I made it through most of the documentary in a mode of clear-eyed consumption, but the final 20 minutes, particularly the footage of her when she won the Grammy for album of the year, kicked off the water works. It was wonderful to see her happy in that moment, proud to be hearing her name called by Tony Bennett, and then it was crushing to hear her best friend say that Winehouse swept her backstage to tell her how boring that indelible experience was without being high.

The film sugarcoats nothing yet flings no judgments - at least not at Winehouse. The commentary conveys the honest helplessness of those who love someone in the throes of addiction, and the images show the expressiveness of an artist trying to be herself and fend off her vulnerability while under a microscope. I often complain about the intrusion of video cameras in people’s lives, but I’m grateful the filmmakers had so much footage of Winehouse in her element during moments when she wanted the camera to be there. It captured her mischievous spirit and raw talent, and she in turn captured our hearts.  

The word rehabilitate means to restore to good health or condition. Some critics are saying this movie is restoring Winehouse’s image after all the bad press she received in her last few years that seemed to make a mockery of her. But I don’t think her image needed restoring for the people who appreciated her gifts. In that regard, she was right – she did not need to go to rehab. She desperately needed rehab for her personal afflictions, but she was restored to her best self every time she was immersed in her music.

"AMY" documentary HD trailer

Suspense suspended

MOVIES I WISH HAD BEEN BETTER

Mark Wahlberg and Thandie Newton in "The Truth about Charlie"

Mark Wahlberg and Thandie Newton in "The Truth about Charlie"

As my love for classic films developed over the years, there were several stars I fell for right away (such appeal is essentially why they are big stars). Two of those performers were Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. So when I learned about the one film they made together – in my favorite genre of crime thriller, no less – I just knew I was going to love it.

In addition to starring Hepburn and Grant, the movie is directed by one of the great big screen visual stylists, Stanley Donen, and features a terrific supporting cast including Walter Matthau, George Kennedy and James Coburn. It’s an entertaining romp full of chases, misdirection and, of course, romance since Hepburn and Grant are the leads.

The story goes like so: Hepburn’s estranged husband is mysteriously killed, and the people suspected of killing him are soon hounding her to get what they didn’t get from her hubby – a whole lot of stolen money. There’s also a treasury agent leaning on her to find the money and a detective trying to catch the killer. Grant plays a fellow traveler Hepburn considers dating until she realizes she is in danger. Then she begins to rely on him as a protector while continuing to size him up as marriage material. But is he really who he says he is? Who can she trust – especially since she apparently didn’t know her late husband very well at all?

The movie is a lot of fun, but as crime capers go, it’s a lot of fluff as well. The romance between Grant and Hepburn is charming (“When you come on, you really come on.”). But it doesn’t have quite the same sparkle as some of Grant's other late career on-screen affairs like with Grace Kelly in “To Catch A Thief” (another light crime caper) and Eva Marie Saint in “North by Northwest,” both directed by Alfred Hitchcock. “Charade” doesn’t top any lists for me, but I still consider it a classic, and I often watch it when it plays on TCM or some other movie channel.

Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn in "Charade" publicity shot

Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn in "Charade" publicity shot

So in 2002, when I discovered that one of my favorite directors, Jonathan Demme, was filming a remake of “Charade” called “The Truth about Charlie,” I was thrilled. Surely he could take it to that higher level I thought the original film came just short of - a darker, more dangerous level injected with a bit more realism. Then I heard he was going to cast a black actress – the lovely Thandie Newton – in the lead. Points for going against the grain! But she wasn’t a big star, and I knew there had to be a big name attached. Well the big name ended up being Mark Wahlberg, and I became concerned right away.

I’ve been a Wahlberg fan since “Boogie Nights,” and honestly, I didn’t mind his Calvin Klein ads one bit either. He has proven himself a solid actor – a two-time Oscar nominee excelling at playing either sensitive or tough types in comedies and dramas. He killed it in “The Departed,” and I also loved him in “The Italian Job” (even though he seemed to be playing himself for the most part) and the indie bomb “I Heart Huckabees.” But as talented as he is, worldly sophistication is not Wahlberg’s forte on screen, and that’s what was called for in “The Truth about Charlie.”

In fairness, modern audiences would not have been expecting a Cary Grant type in the role, but they needed more than that ill-suited beret Wahlberg wears throughout the movie to take him seriously. The badly miscast Wahlberg was not the only problem. There are script issues as well because I never feel completely engrossed in the story. There was style but no substance, and sometimes that’s OK if the film makes up for it in some way. “The Truth about Charlie” does not.

The bottom line is it’s just not very interesting or plausible, and by the end I didn’t care what happened. Thandie Newton is one of the few saving graces. She is believable and magnetic. And Christine Boisson is great as the cop on the case. But Tim Robbins is given little to do except look suspicious as the treasury agent. And the criminal team is a rather bland and predictable bunch, although it was nice to see Lisa Gay Hamilton get some big-budget movie love.

Alas, “The Truth about Charlie” is a far cry from the engaging escapade that is “Charade,” and unfortunately it doesn’t even make the cut as an entertaining thriller without the somewhat unfair comparison to its predecessor. I remain a fan of Demme and the primary actors in the film, but I wish Demme had taken the story and characters in more compelling directions.