Holiday's Jazz Biography

Hello all,
I hope the spring "break" went well for everyone. (I know, for most of us, it's never really a break. There's either crazy and/or loud family or a to do list.)

I thought Billie Holiday's memoir was a lovely way to get back into the groove of things. I didn't know that it was in fact a memoir and not a critical piece. I hadn't really looked past the cover and the cd on the back. So, when I started reading it, I was pleasantly surprised to hear what we hadn't heard yet - a written voice from the artist. And, goodness, to get to hear Billie Holiday's. It was strong and personal, full of character. I loved getting to hear about her life, her trauma, the wonderful and interesting people she knew. It was so wonderful to hear about Judy Garland coming to hear her sing. I've thought Garland was wonderful for years. I absolutely fell in love with her in Wizard of Oz. Then, Rhett Butler comes to Billie's roadside rescue. And, she only recognizes him when he punches a guy for insulting her. Fab-u-lous. And, of course, we get to hear a different perspective on the folks we've been introduced to this semester. Lena Horne welcomed her back after she been in prison. Ethel Waters was mean to her. Armstrong was cool. She even discusses Charlie Parker. I felt like, after hearing her voice describe this world, I had a new and better understanding of it, an understanding that I haven't been able to experience in the same way through the removed criticism and film. Holiday's memoir was raw and human, really lovely.

I guess because I thought the memoir so wonderful, I just couldn't feel the same about the film. In dramatizing Holiday's life, the producers/directors/etc. changed the things I felt were so wonderful about Holiday. Instead of the strong voice of independence and perseverance we hear in the book, we get an unstable drug addict who can't even stand on her own two feet. In the book, Holiday addresses her drug abuse, but she does it head on, repeatedly. At no time, from the narrative, did I feel that Holiday was unable to care for herself or be functional. She was an addict, but the addict portrayed in the film and the one in the memoir were differnent, way different, almost polar opposites. I recognize that we are hearing from Billie and her coauthor in the text; whereas, in the film, we "should" be getting a broader vision of her life from outside herself. But, I feel like, if Holiday had lived to see the film, she would have again felt disowned by the public. I felt that the film was intentionally dramatized, even overdramatized, to make her life more sensational. The really beautiful human moments were either completely removed or so vague that they could have been glossed over or misunderstand by those members of the audience unfamilar with the memoir. For example, we get a clear chronological, psychological narrative following when she was raped at age ten. We have a rational understanding of the things that happen later in her life. The punishment she receives at the hands of society and the catholic church, the "punishment" of spending the night locked in a room with a corpse, both of these instances allow us a greater understanding of her actions later in life, namely each time she again comes in contact with a dead body along with her self proclaimed abstinece. These are just two of the many instances that rationalized Holiday's life in the book but were strangely missing completely from the movie. Another lovely moment that I was upset to see deleted was the moment that she felt her mother's ghost behind her. Her mother's hand on her shoulder was such a beautiful, strong image. It was replaced in the movie by a bullshit scene of Ross trying to get high in her dressing room, being selfish when the hospital was calling. The Holiday of the memoir stood by her mother, helped her mother, worked at making her mother's dreams come true more so than her own. The Holiday of the book was calm about it; Ross' character was snotty annoying mess. Pl-ease.
Okay, I guess that's enough bitching about that for now. No, wait.
I couldn't stand that the film character was completely controlled by men when the character of the book was unaffected by men to a large extent.
I did have one issue with the book. The last sentence really bothered me for the same reason. We end on "my man", which may or may not have influenced the movie. Who knows.
Okay, on to Harlos and Jazz Autobiography.
The idea from page 132, that jazz musicians and writers weren't sympathetic to one another. This, along with the really unknown roots of jazz, contributes to this whole idea of jazz having no master narrative. This lack of a bigger picture seems to influence, wholly, how we see individual artists. The nature of jazz itself is blurry and almost undefinable, much as a black and white discussion of an individual artist, like Armstrong for example, is impossible. The important element of jazz that is definite is its changing nature. No song played the same more than two nights in a row is what Holiday said. To perform in this way, it only makes sense that the artists performing would be everchanging too. I also think that it seems reasonable, but unfortunate, that writers and jazz artists would be asympathetic. Another important element of jazz is that it is an unwritten form. It's improvisation, it's on the spot and emotional. Writing is defined by the fact that it is a written form. It is mulled over. It is revised and edited, many, many times. Even experimental writing is planned out and thought over. I think it makes sense, then, that, when jazz musicians do sit down to give us a written record of their life, it is a mosaic, a montage of moments and memories jammed together in much the same seeming chaos of a jazz set or jam.
I was especially upset, but did expect, Harlos discussion of Holiday's "memoir" (p146-7). It's a complicated setup, a complicated relationship. But, like I said, I expected it, especially with our discussions of performance and control of performance in films, star quality, star power, etc. Harlos assertion on p. 149, that jazz autobiography is a collective form, seems right. I also felt that written narratives, biographies, of jazz musician's lives are directed toward a specific audience. Holiday's "memoir" seemed directed only at her fans, and the Holiday we see characterized in the pages is one even new fans can love.

Gabbard, Sweet Love, & Bird

Hello all,
Since you will be reading this either going into or recovering from Spring Break, I'll try to be brief although the reading for this week was especially useful in bringing together many of the movies we've already looked at as well as the movies being interesting all on their own.

So,
Gabbard posits to us that white folks and black folks are strategically placed around one another in jazz films. I'm not arguing with this. It seems ovbious in what we've watched so far. But, it seems that, with Sweet Love and Bird, we've come into a new era. Indeed, these movies are much closer to us in time than the others we've watched. I think that they show a more contemporary view of race relations. Sweet Love comes closely after the Civil Rights movement. Bird is a bit more removed. But, there seems to be a change of tone in both these films. Black folks might just be people too. They are treated with humanity, tragic humanity, but humanity nonetheless. And, humanity shines brightest at its bitterest, right? At least with creative types. There's also a change in tone towards the music, the way it's talked about. In both films, the musicians take time to articulate the details of their trade, explaining chords, etc. to wannabes and appreciatives. Oftentimes, these folks are white. We also see a realistic treatment of interracial relationships. Gabbard lends interesting perspective and knowledge about both Bird and Sweet Love. And, in his discussion of the other films we've watched this semester, he raises many of the discussions we had in class, shout out to Nancy with the phallus talk, and adds to them with information about the criticism and technical aspects of the film. I thought Gabbard was helpful in a more expansive understanding of what we've been talking about. He brings it together and shows correlations.
I gotta say, though, it did get on my nerves that Gabbard kept linking films by date, in the same words. but, hey, at least it's not the ultimate or whatever phrase Strasbaugh kept using. Good ole Strausbaugh.
Much of what Gabbard discussions about race relations was also talked about in the two films and was nicely played out in the scene where Eagle's white buddy deserts him and leaves him to the police.
Okay, we'll hit all the many more important points when we get back to class.
Be safe everyone.

Sweet Smell of Death

Hello all,
Spring break approaches. I know we all have our to-do lists for the "holiday". But, we're not quite there yet.
Even though we didn't have any readings this week, I gotta say that watching The Sweet Smell of Success could easily be compared to reading an Eric Lott chapter. I wasn't really sure what was going on until I was able to look back at the film. It seems to want to be psychological in nature, but didn't get us close enough to any of the characters to be able to fully understand their psychology. Or, it might have been that there were just too many. Characters, that is.
Even if it is sucky in the way of stars awarded, it does a few things for us, within the context of this class.
The film seems to want to be modern. Almost every scene takes place outside of the home. The city always looms in the background, dark and foreboding. The traffic is suffocating, sometimes hurtful. Poor Sydney gets burned by a muffler and gets his fingers caught in a car door. The city is the setting for the entire movie, New York City, the city to trump all cities.

Sidney is a new kind of capitalist. He is not confined to the workday or the office or factory. We see him at work in the bars, on the streets, in the telephone booth. He has a home office, but it's not your stay at home mom selling Mary Kay cosmetics. The front is a unit, the back a bedroom. All the types of the caucasion world come into play. Women are either cigarette girls, secretaries, prostitutes, dates, or pawns. They're blonde and have children's voices or no voices at all. The men are go-to guys, satiated with/or the want of power, control, and money. Sydney is described as a "prisoner of fear and ambition". The rich are more subtly wealthy. We don't see their mansions and their expensive cars. We see their cleancut, fashionable hair. We see their fur coats and their luxurious hair.
But, the guy at the top of the hierarcy is a radio star. Although we are never privy to his show, I think we are to understand that he is quite a different kind of celebrity than the meager artist of the jazz band that his sister is in love with.
In fact, Sydney is completely outside the main story, a Caraway for our Fitzgerald. Sydney just seems to be all over the place which allows the audience to be there with him.
As for jazz, the band is headed up by this white musician who is unsuitable for the successfull Hunseker's sister (although she gets treated like sister/mother/lover, gotta love the incest of the first half of the century here in our great nation). The band has a token African-American. He seems to be well liked and as respected as anybody else in the band. The drums are prominent during songs. And, of course, the band is situated within a club, this time the Elysian. It's full of whites, which is a bit different from the context of the other films we've watched. It's the same situation in DOA. Are we to take that, by the 50's, jazz is not just viewed as an African American art form, but one good ole upper middle class white folks like to listen to to? I think so. But, I think it's still also clear that jazz is still considered a part of secular and/or questionable society.
After all, in DOA is the first time we see white women drink, even become drunk. And, it's withinthe context of the jazz club. So, with that understanding, the film still seems to make a clear statement that links jazz to corrupted morals, even within white society.
In DOA, it's Frank's presence in the bar that allows him to be poisoned. You could say it was jazz that killed him.
I don't know much about the film noir genre, but I gotta say it was more interesting to watch than Smelly just because the plot was easy to follow, and there weren't so many main players that they became confusing.
I thought it was interesting that Frank didn't like the noisy jazz bar, that he wanted to leave. It was almost like the moral compass being present.
And, the jazz band in this jazz club is viewed hella differently than any we've seen before. There are closeups on each of the band members' faces, some multiple times. Women are described as "jive crazy". In fact, Frank consistently refers to anything outside of himself or his liking as "crazy". The music drives him crazy. It drives the music lovers crazy. The band's movements are wild and a prominent part of the performance.
Somewhere after the viewer can no longer see the band, a woman's voice takes the place of the band leader and continues in the background throughout the film. The voice becomes more and more haunting as our main character gets closer to his death.

Alright, there's plenty more to talk about, but let's call it a night. See you all tomorrow.

Cabin in Disguise

Hello all,
I am happy to report that I thoroughly enjoyed both the readings and the film this week. Yip a dee doo da.
Both Naremore and Knee, but especially Naremore, were informational, even engaging. No old testament genealogical type lists of critics here. And, they both point out interesting things about the film and the context of the film that I didn't notice before. Although, after reading the articles, they make perfect sense and bring a greater understanding of the film.

The film, oh what a difference about ten years make. We get a story and a perspective. We get some introspection into the characters. In fact, It's easy to point out that the characters, although still types, are more fully developed than the one dimensional ones we've seen thus far.

Okay, well, I don't want to sing praises, in a voice not half as awesome as Waters or Horne.

I'm doing the presentation this week, so I'll only cover a bit here and hope, from my discussion questions, that we can cover alot of the other really interesting stuff that the film and readings bring up.

I noticed that modernity itself was a flag for evil within the film. The only modern conveniences, telephones, electricity, air conditioning, were in hell, as were jazz. In the club, Paradise, one of the nice dichotomies and dualisms that Knee discusses, is the only place in the film where men and women interact in an accepted way. Within these spaces is where we find both Ellington and Armstrong. When Petunia enters the modern space, characterized by both jazz and the Afro-centric modern art of the murals on the walls, she becomes opposition to good. She even wears a foreign headress to further seperate herself from her religion. Back at the homefront, the unused automatic washing machine sits on the front porch, an emblem to all - none of that devilish electricity here. We don't see Lil' Joe in a car until he has turned "evil" when he is let off at the entrance to the club. In fact, once all of the modern elements of the club Paradise are destroyed by "god" and his tornado, it becomes a Christian view of paradise, a place where the folks wear white robes, talk to god's own associates, and hit the steps to heaven.
Even from the title song (and a tiffany or debbie gibson, I think, song from the eighties), heaven is a place on earth. But, not just any place, it's the good clean place, uncorrupted by the evils of telephones and air-conditioning. It's the rustic cabin, the dirt yard.

But, I found it interesting that, even when modernity was wiped out, capitalism still stood strong. The reverend/god's messenger didn't look for Joe's name in the book of life. He looked for it in god's ledger, telling Joe he was "in the red". He owed God. And, the messenger pointed out to Joe that God didn't bargain. This ain't no flea market where you can trade for what you need; it's straight capitalism. Pay up or pay the price.

It's interesting that the movie clearly says modernity bad, capitalism A-OK.

I don't want to ramble about every little thing I found interesting. I will say, however, that it's interesting that we are supposed to think that the elements of this plot are only existent in an all black world. Instead of dealing with race issues, the white folks responsible for making this film ignore them altogether. I think it hearkens back to all the seperate but equal politics that come to a head a bit after the film is made.

I look forward to discussing more of these exciting findings on Tuesday.