In Oscar Levant, we find more than the bridge between a man and his art. We find the bridge between the world as it is and the world we dream can come into being.
The yearning and ecstatic hope of Stephen Sondheim’s songs in Evening Primrose creates a narrative and an aesthetic that is, to my eyes, distinctly queer.
Who’s Singin’ Over There is at heart an allegory, using the platform of a road movie to ruminate on our capacity to fiddle whilst Rome burns.
As much as Sound of Noise is a heist film, it’s a musical too.
Marie Antoinette is arguably the centrepiece of Coppola’s MTV-inflected career, conceived as it was as a sort of love letter to the music and music videos she loved as a teenager.
In the center of Meghe Dhaka Tara, Ranen Roychoudhury appears as the folk singer whose slow sway and arching features evoke a quiet transcendence. His sweet, lilting cries peel back the cruelty of the melodrama and present the beating heart of Ritwik Ghatak’s humanism.
There is much to say about Chariots of Fire—much about class and social order, about overcoming both religious prejudice and Anglo-Saxon snobbery, about stuffy British parlors and antiquated politics—but much of this, much of one’s experience of the film, is dominated by its music.