An Analysis of Evening Primrose

This is my second blog (after a brief attempt at movie reviews to help myself write better). This blog is also mainly aimed at improving my writing and critical thinking, but also at getting some of my work out there. To start with I'm going to post an analysis of Evening Primrose that I also put on the discussion board for my film class. More after the jump.

I'm deeply passionate about the (largely untapped) cinematic possibilities for the musical, primarily in terms of dramatic storytelling instead of in terms of spectacle. I thought I'd just look at one film musical and explain how the songs actually move the story forward and deepen our understanding of the characters, something that is extremely rare in film musicals written specifically for the screen for a variety of reasons. The film is Evening Primrose, a 1966 TV Movie written by James Goldman, with Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. It's basically a 50-minute Twilight Zone-type anthology episode (in fact there was a Twilight Zone episode with a vaguely similar premise), and as such only has a few songs. The whole thing is on Youtube (edit: It's not just yet, as I was going to upload but found it was too long and haven't split it and re-uploaded yet). I suggest you watch it first and then read the rest of the piece. It's a bit weird, but I think it's pretty good.

Stephen Sondheim is generally considered the preeminent composer-lyricist of modern musical theatre, though he has some detractors, and is also an idol of mine. This film was made a few years before the musical in which he has suggested he became aware of his voice, Company (1970), but demonstrates most of the elements that comprise his distinctive approach. As a renowned cinephile, Sondheim has stated that the language of cinema was influential in how he thinks about his musical numbers, and to me this definitely comes through in his stage works. Evening Primrose isn't very well-directed (damn zoom lenses ruined TV direction in the '60s, plus the editing is pretty terrible), but the numbers are (mostly) still quite effective and intriguingly cinematic.

Writing songs for the screen is obviously quite different to writing them for the stage. For one, framing and editing allow you to do things that simply aren't possible on the stage. Unfortunately,  most directors use this as an excuse for the most boring form of over-literalism (looking at you, Tim Burton) in which what the lyrics describe is seen literally, but in reality it allows for a much more sophisticated construction in which cuts correspond to motivic ideas or possibly sections of a song or you cross-cut between different locations, temporalities and realities with thematic and motivic ideas tying it together. The other main difference is that the lyric has to be slightly different, as the context for dialogue/lyrics in cinema and stage is different; cinematic dialogue needs to feel - not be - natural, whereas in my (admittedly limited) experience theatrical dialogue is written with the audience always in mind and directed towards them more consciously. Lyric writing goes along similar principles, in that it needs to be written with less self-conscious awareness of the audience evident in the lyric.

Anyway, onto the actual numbers:

If You Can Find Me I'm Here

This is the opening number, essential to a successful musical, and presented with a dilemma that is uniquely cinematic: how to make the audience suspend disbelief for the characters singing. To me, this is a somewhat overrated problem, though my fumbling V48hours musical* (www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6-8DlDMF9U) begs to differ as it doesn't have an opening number, and the 2 minutes until the first actual song really aren't very good at all. The basic idea which I think would be most effective in all film musicals is simply to acknowledge the heightened reality and assume the audience will follow you from there. A stage adaptation like Cabaret or Chicago, incidentally both with scores by Kander and Ebb, actively justifies the numbers as fantasy sequences or cabaret numbers commenting on the story, and I think this makes the audience feel clever but detracts from the drama. Sondheim chooses to have a spoken verse that gradually builds to the song, an effective solution because of the careful linking of the unrealistically loud heartbeat and the bass pedal and the gradual introduction of music. This gradually draws the audience in, with the heartbeat suggesting this is not a naturalistic film, and prepares them for the declamatory "I am free..." which leads into the actual song.

As Oscar Hammerstein's dictum would have it, the opening number also needs to introduce the story and how it is going to be told, and in this case it is from the point of view of Charles as he tries to escape the outside world but eventually ends up drawn back to it by Ella. The overall structure of this song is focused on how his bitter resentment of the outside world turns to joy as he escapes to live in a mall. The formal structure is three sections (each going up a tone to a brighter key) with two repetitions of a basic binary (AB) form, before ending with a C-section derived from the A-section and a big climax. Simple, but effective. The lyric, as befits a poet like Charles, is both bitter and playful with rhymes that are often slightly unusual but extremely effective (and always perfect rhymes).

In terms of direction, the number suffers a bit. For starters, that fade to black really ruins the smooth transition between the introduction and the song. The ideas are clearly conveyed, but the editing is jerky and not particularly purposeful. It seems primarily there to show off the awesome (real) location they used for the film instead of convey anything about Charles as a character. We get the idea from the lyric and from some of the staging about the size of the mall and his ability to use the stuff inside, but with strategic cutting for different sections of the song (especially as the lyrics focus on different things in the different B-sections) it could have been more coherent. The song is more than effective enough to carry the ideas through to the audience, but it feels like a slightly missed opportunity, though not nearly as much as one of the later numbers.

I Remember

This is Ella's character-establishing solo. As the focus is quite narrow, and film musicals tend to need fewer songs than stage musicals or risk feeling overstuffed, her character has to be crystallised in this song so that both the romance that drives the story is established and the seeds for the ending are planted. It's a good song, wistful while relating specifically to Ella's life, and it effectively establishes everything it needs to. Structurally, it's deceptively complex. It's essentially song form (AABA) with the BA repeated, but the new A-sections develop on the old ones so that they don't sound quite alike and the first B is only 6 bars which allows for a 2-bar extension to bring it out to the usual 8 bar phrase in the second B by adding a phrase ("light and noise..."), which includes the first non-diatonic note in the melody and a surprising harmony (bIII 6/9 chord in fourth inversion). The final A is extended in a pretty typical fashion.

The approach to direction is extremely simple: one shot, slowly tracking in and then out. It is exactly the kind of number that only needs one shot as well, despite the tendency of virtually everybody directing musical numbers today to cut them up to within an inch of their life. The song is compelling enough on its own and doesn't even need reaction shots of Charles as it isn't about him at all. This was originally shot in colour, though only the black-and-white version survives, so it could have perhaps been interesting to do some lighting changes in the B-sections to help add another layer to the performance (which is just a little bit one-note). It's entirely possible that they did, and it's just not perceptible in black and white, but I don't think it's likely.

When

This is, to me, the most problematic number in the whole thing. It's the most expansively cinematic song, written much more in Sondheim's post-Company style, yet the direction of the number holds it back from registering as well as it should with the audience (well, me and the people I've seen it with). This song compresses a longer stretch of time - a favourite device of Sondheim's - in which Ella and Charles are both thinking about the other one and eventually find a way to meet despite the obstacle posed by Mrs. Monday and the others. Structurally it is more expansive as well, and slightly harder to compress down into a simple explanation. In broad strokes it is ABA'B'C, with A being a verse that is developed the second time around, B being the main refrain, and C the final section combining ideas from A and B.

The direction is really not very good in my opinion, and it relies on a device that I believe absolutely doesn't work in a film musical: voice-over. For some reason, a lot of people think that an internal monologue should be sung in voice-over but, as I learned the hard way with my V48hours musical, the audience is off-put by this as they expect to see characters singing in a musical - though it didn't help that my voice-over song was first used in a slow-mo wide shot. The voice-over also makes Sondheim's clever structural device of starting phrases in the B-section (micro-level) of the first B-section (macro-level) with lines from the bridge game substantially less effective. In addition to this, the zooms are hardly the most effective way to convey that this is internal monologue, and the split-screen of two people staring at the camera is extremely boring to look at. I did quite like the crossed-out poems, but there's no reason it had to be a voice-over (especially as he sings them in a later scene).

If I was directing this (in colour and widescreen), I would have taken quite a different approach. To start with, no voice-over. The verse would have simply been them singing while doing actions and the other characters are noticeably mute (though still moving around a bit). Next, I would have had Charles turn from looking at the other players to address the camera (placed beside him) for the refrain, possibly also rotoscoping or blacking out the background with lights, and cutting to close-ups of the other players snapping him out of his reverie in the B-section phrases and having him do the actions in a shot similar to the one in the film before going back to the reverie. Ella would have a similar device applied for when she is singing, and I would keep the close-ups of them looking at each other as well.

I would have kept the second A and B the same (without the voice-over) and the split screen, but make it so that it appears that the two characters are facing each other instead of the camera. This has an obvious problem in that it could seem as if they are addressing each other in a song that is clearly about them not being able to do so, but I think it would reinforce the emotional connection between them even as the split screen makes the physical distance between them clear. The interlude involving Mrs. Monday playing the piano could have added a nice visual gag without the voice-over approach as well, as everyone else has headphones on while Charles and Ella sing. The beginning of the C-section would be the same, including Mrs. Monday's dialogue, as by then it would be clear to the audience that Ella's singing isn't diegetic. Finally, the  repeated "Then" which ends the song would have been used as a more effective transition into the next scene by having the last one sung at the new location.

Take Me To The World

This last song is probably the most dramatically effective song in the movie, and takes on a certain poignancy in the reprise. This, even more than the other songs, asks us to take the plight of the characters totally seriously in a largely humorous and more than slightly bizarre story. Because Ella has been characterised as yearning for the outside in "I Remember", it makes her winning Charles over very compelling. This is a very simple song structurally, repeating the same AA'BA-extended refrain three times, with the lyric providing the dramatic movement. This simple structure is because it is a song which is only really about winning someone over, so Charles singing her refrain (instead of his counter-point in the second repetition) is moving on its own terms. Of course the entire dramatic situation is well-built, and the dialogue building into counter-point for Charles in the second repetition is very effective as well.

A friend remarked that Charles is a little stubborn and 'douchey' in his refusal to go along with Ella, but it isn't in any way inconsistent with his characterisation from "If You Can Find Me I'm Here" and the rest of the film, which makes him very much the stubborn artist type. The direction is extremely effective except for the opening framing, which is a little awkward, and sells the idea that the song is diegetic very well. Diegesis is very much fluid in musicals as a result of the different kinds of dramatic situations that call for song, and Evening Primrose by and large is very smart about playing with it. It doesn't automatically justify everything as being diegetic, Joss Whedon's trick to make Once More, With Feeling work (though obviously that approach is unique and has its own drawbacks), but instead plays with the idea of what the audience expects diegesis to be in a musical.  Only "When" is a totally non-diegetic song, but the audience still doesn't tend to assume that the characters songs can be heard by anyone but the intended recipient in a musical. The idea that they are actually singing to each other in this song and Charles accidentally turning on the intercom alerts the others to the song (and their plan) is very unusual, and sold very well by the cut to a close-up of the speaker. Of course, the ideal audience member is so swept up in the song that they wouldn't be questioning the diegesis, but it's still very important to note how unusual it is and that the audience is willing to follow along with it.

The reprise is very effective as well (and doesn't start as a voice-over I might add, becoming one when it is the afterthought lingering on their death) and the song creates a very poignant capper to an unusual love story. Overall, it's a very intriguing film and one that really makes me wish Sondheim had written another film musical. He actually did, Singing Out Loud, with the screenplay by William Goldman (James Goldman's brother) and Rob Reiner was supposed to direct it, but it never got made. Evening Primrose stands out as an interesting side-note in Sondheim's oeuvre, and an interesting side-note in the history of the film musical. Seeing as I plan to continue to pontificate via the blog, comments on what worked and didn't from those (likely very few) who read this piece would be helpful.

*a competition for which the purpose is to make a 7-minute short from scratch in 48 hours within generic constrictions of their choosing. They also give you a prop, a character, a cinematic technique and a line of dialogue which you must include as well. For those of you who watched the film, it was written by my twin brother, Stephen, and lead actor, Peter, and the repetition in the credits is not a display of egotism on my part, simply a glitch due to lack of sleep.