Late last year we heard rumours that John Williams would return to the Harry Potter franchise to compose the final Potter film, which I wasn’t particularly writing home about. I’ve actually not been much of a Williams fan in the Potter series (“Hedwig’s Theme”, “Fawkes the Phoenix” and the Prisoner of Azkaban score notwithstanding). However, it was later announced that Alexandre Desplat would stay on for Part Two.

After all, it just makes sense to finish what you’ve started.

I wrote my review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part One in April. I thought Desplat’s score enhanced the film wonderfully, and I was confident that Part Two was in sensitive and capable hands. Listening to Part Two now, I can happily back that prediction.

Part Two’s promotional teaser simply reads, “It all ends”. Where there was a thread of foreboding in Part One, now the emphasis is on the finality, in every sense of the word. As I mentioned earlier, Part One ...]]> EDIT (October 2011): It’s come to my attention that I’ve been cited on the DH2 score’s Wikipedia page as a music critic. I just want to confirm that I am NOT a professional writer, just a curious and passionate fan.

Late last year we heard rumours that John Williams would return to the Harry Potter franchise to compose the final Potter film, which I wasn’t particularly writing home about. I’ve actually not been much of a Williams fan in the Potter series (“Hedwig’s Theme”, “Fawkes the Phoenix” and the Prisoner of Azkaban score notwithstanding). However, it was later announced that Alexandre Desplat would stay on for Part Two.

After all, it just makes sense to finish what you’ve started.

I wrote my review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part One in April. I thought Desplat’s score enhanced the film wonderfully, and I was confident that Part Two was in sensitive and capable hands. Listening to Part Two now, I can happily back that prediction.

Part Two’s promotional teaser simply reads, “It all ends”. Where there was a thread of foreboding in Part One, now the emphasis is on the finality, in every sense of the word. As I mentioned earlier, Part One is degrees above previous films in maturity and scope; Part Two certainly doesn’t erode what Part One established – in fact, it only unapologetically amplifies the epic scale, which seems uncharacteristic of Desplat at first, but he never loses grasp of the emotional complexities of the story – its pervasive themes of death, loss and renewal.

“I think the goal was to find something as gentle, as sweet, and as kind as a lullaby with a guilty touch to it. It’s a very simple melody that anyone can hum, child or adult, and we found this incredible singer, Mai, who has a very pure voice, almost like liquid gold.  So it will haunt the film and Harry all along the last episode.”

—Desplat on creating “Lily’s Theme” (Credit: The Leaky Cauldron)

The outstanding highlight must surely be “Lily’s Theme” – a new overture that much like its namesake cocoons itself around Harry. I can only describe it as indescribably, devastatingly Desplat. It’s a haunting melody, laden with fragility and tinged with sadness; it cements the tone for the rest of the film and is instantly memorable. It recurs in dramatic instances: “Snape’s Demise”, “Voldemort’s End” and most movingly, “The Resurrection Stone”, which I consider Desplat’s magnum opus in this score. It is four minutes and thirty-three seconds of sheer aural perfection. Soulful strings lull “Lily’s Theme” along, with solo vocals by Mai Fujisawa, whose voice is strikingly pure and arresting. You may know that Fujisawa is the daughter of Japanese composer, Mamoru Fujisawa (or more famously, Joe Hisaishi of Studio Ghibli fame). She has sung themes for Nausicaa, Princess Mononoke and Ponyo, but I didn’t recognise her here.

Familiar themes return from Part One – “Underworld” hints at the “The Locket”, a fitting motif for the continued hunt for Horcruxes. The “Obliviate” cue recurs in “Harry’s Sacrifice” and “Harry Surrenders” as Harry learns of his doomed fate, but welcomes it openly. New motifs are introduced during the Battle of Hogwarts – “Panic Inside Hogwarts”, “Statues”, “Battlefield” and “Courtyard Apocalypse” convey the anticipation, the thrills and the devastation of the war in sombre, lyrical fashion. Similarly, “The Grey Lady” has meandering, ghostly moments of poignancy and scintillating suspense as Harry attempts to win Helena Ravenclaw’s trust so that she will reveal to him the whereabouts of a Horcrux hidden inside Hogwarts’ walls.

Harry’s best friends, Ron and Hermione, finally have some off time to themselves in “In the Chamber of Secrets” in which Hermione destroys a Horcrux of her own, and is then snogged by Ron (about time!). It’s a momentous occasion for fans like me, so I’m deeply disappointed that Ron and Hermione don’t get their own theme. Ten years of angst and misunderstandings and they don’t even get a theme?! Even Harry and Cho got “The Kiss” theme! That said, their pivotal moment does use a leitmotif from Part One’s “Ron’s Speech” which I officially dub the unofficial Ron and Hermione theme. Meanwhile, lucky Neville gets two themes to himself: “Neville” and “Neville the Hero”, the latter clearly outweighing the former. It’s a quietly triumphant theme, echoing its namesake’s endearing transformation from the fumbling, somewhat dim first year to a great, brave hero in his own right, a hero whom the Sword of Gryffindor itself deems worthy of wielding it.

“This theme is crucial to the success of the story, and it would have been disrespectful and stupid for me not to use it at the crucial moments where we need to refer to these ten years of friendships that we’ve all had with these characters and kids…”

—Desplat on using “Hedwig’s Theme” (Credit: The Leaky Cauldron)

Williams’ iconic “Hedwig’s Theme” also has more prominence in Part Two. Desplat reasons that as much of the film takes place inside Hogwarts, and given that the theme is so quintessential to Harry’s childhood and connection with the school, it had to be included. It is incorporated to varying effect in “Dragon Flight”, “A New Headmaster”, ” In the Chamber of Secrets”, “The Diadem”, “Snape’s Demise”, “Harry’s Sacrifice” and “Procession”. My favourite interpretation of the theme is in “Snape’s Demise”, which curiously blends “Lily’s Theme” into it too.

Speaking of Snape, the unfolding of his mysterious past has great significance and plays a monumental part in resolving the story. Through Harry’s eyes, we discover that what we always outwardly saw as someone antagonistic, quite possibly maybe evil, was in fact the most emotionally tragic character. Severus Snape loved deeply and wholly and died for doing so. We catch glimpses of Snape’s past in “Severus and Lily”, a dreamy, ambient montage of memories, made more devastating by what we already know of Lily’s tragic end.

Indeed it is a grand ending that we’ve so anxiously waited for. I get apprehensive when Desplat tackles high-handed action scenes – they remain his weakness – but he plays a deft hand in Part Two. “The Tunnel” is just the entrée in this feast of flavours, but it’s an exhilarating starter.  “Underworld” is the most chaotic composition – multiple listenings tend to singe ears. “Gringotts”, “The Diadem” and “A New Headmaster” are deceptively simple with an initial hint of danger, with the latter opening up as Harry confronts Professor Snape at Hogwarts. “Dragon Flight” is a brilliant ride, almost childlike in its exuberance, which is much in the essence of Williams’ ‘flighty’ themes like “Fawkes the Phoenix” and “Buckbeak’s Flight” of earlier Potter films. “Broomsticks and Fire” is similar to that effect, as Ron, Harry and Hermione rush to escape the Fiendfyre that sets the entire Room of Requirement aflame.

Desplat flexes his epic, operatic muscles in the final act, when we really feel the intensity and urgency of the ultimate duel between Harry and Voldemort, which Desplat’s orchestration magnificently brings to life in “Showdown” and “Voldemort’s End”. “Showdown” is a tumult of brass and strings and thumping timpani, topped by the sweeping grandeur of the London Voices choir. Similarly, the great crescendo in “Voldemort’s End”, which meanders into the haunting whispers of “Lily’s Theme” at the end, is just breathtaking. And if that heart-stopping climax hasn’t killed us already, “A New Beginning” gently drops us back to the ground, ending on a pensive, wistful note filled with hope and promise.

As a great Harry Potter fan and a great Desplat fan, I couldn’t be more pleased with Desplat’s effort, and I am so grateful that he was given this rare opportunity to work on something so fantastic and huge as Harry Potter. Just think – we NEARLY got John Williams again (if there wasn’t a schedule clash)! I have such tremendous admiration for Desplat that it’s probably borderline obsessive – he treats music as a serious craft, he’s modest about his own work, he’s open to any creative possibility, he respects his peers in the field and as a bonus he has read and loves Harry Potter. What’s not to love about the man? I wish I could be just as dedicated and talented. It’s not a surprise that most of my favourite films have incidentally been composed by Desplat.

Although Part One had some great moments and wasn’t nearly as memorable, Part Two holds us captive from its tenuous beginning to its victorious end. While there is no doubt John Williams’ “Hedwig’s Theme” will ineffably define the Harry Potter franchise for years to come, Desplat has proved to be a formidable force in the success of the Deathly Hallows films, seamlessly blending emotional nuance with action-packed grandeur. He has, in short, created a satisfying and richly layered aural landscape that I will always love coming back to.

In a word: epic
Key tracks: Lily’s Theme, Courtyard Apocalypse, The Resurrection Stone, Showdown
Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

Next up will be my thoughts on the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part Two film. I’ll end this post with something for you to feel nostalgic over – Alexandre Desplat conducting “A New Beginning”:

Click here to view the embedded video.

You can also listen to an interview with him here. And there is FilmTracks’ more technical and stylistic review – I agree with much of the consensus; it’s worth a read!

Tracklist

1. Lily’s Theme 2:29
2. The Tunnel 1:10
3. Underworld 5:26
4. Gringotts 2:24
5. Dragon Flight 1:45
6. Neville 1:41
7. A New Headmaster 3:26
8. Panic Inside Hogwarts 1:54
9. Statues 2:24
10. The Grey Lady 5:51
11. In the Chamber of Secrets 1:38
12. Battlefield 2:14
13. The Diadem 3:08
14. Broomsticks and Fire 1:24
15. Courtyard Apocalypse 2:00
16. Snape’s Demise 2:52
17. Severus and Lily 6:08
18. Harry’s Sacrifice 1:58
19. The Resurrection Stone 4:33
20. Harry Surrenders 1:31
21. Procession 2:08
22. Neville the Hero 2:17
23. Showdown 3:38
24. Voldemort’s End 2:44
25. A New Beginning 1:39

Put simply, Alexandre Desplat is my favourite film composer of all, followed by Dario Marianelli, Joe Hisaishi, Yann Tiersen and er, many others. But I know and love Desplat best; I’ve practically grown up with him. My first encounter with his music was in Girl with a Pearl Earring, the film adaptation of Tracy Chevalier’s novel starring Scarlett Johansson and Colin Firth (two people with whom I was pretty infatuated at the time). The movie had my tick of approval, but it was the music in particular that struck out to me. I had never heard anything so exquisite, so heart-wrenchingly gorgeous to my ears; I scrambled to know who the composer was and where I could get the soundtrack. Back then I wasn’t so knowledgable about online avenues, but eventually while I was on a bookstore tour with the school librarian and other classmates, I found a CD in stock at Readings.

And so began my unequivocal relationship with Desplat’s music—and ...]]> I suppose it’s excellent timing to post this, as the first trailer for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 was released today. And oh my God how FANTASTIC does it look! But my excited squees will come later.

Put simply, Alexandre Desplat is my favourite film composer of all, followed by Dario Marianelli, Joe Hisaishi, Yann Tiersen and er, many others. But I know and love Desplat best; I’ve practically grown up with him. My first encounter with his music was in Girl with a Pearl Earring, the film adaptation of Tracy Chevalier’s novel starring Scarlett Johansson and Colin Firth (two people with whom I was pretty infatuated at the time). The movie had my tick of approval, but it was the music in particular that struck out to me. I had never heard anything so exquisite, so heart-wrenchingly gorgeous to my ears; I scrambled to know who the composer was and where I could get the soundtrack. Back then I wasn’t so knowledgable about online avenues, but eventually while I was on a bookstore tour with the school librarian and other classmates, I found a CD in stock at Readings.

And so began my unequivocal relationship with Desplat’s music—and what a magical, fantastic journey it’s been! Over time I think Desplat has made me appreciate film scores more. I’m not actually a musical person (I wish I was though—where’s my tiger mother?) but I am, I guess, a sensitive arty type, to stereotype myself. And nowhere is it more explicit to feel music’s impact than in a classical score.

This is Alexandre Desplat. I think he might be God. Plus he wears chic scarves. The French always did have impeccable taste.

It’s no surprise how thrilled I was to learn that Desplat would be composing the last two films of the Harry Potter series. It was a dream come true—I’d been asserting my wish much earlier on how amazing it would be for Desplat to compose for Harry Potter. Desplat is no stranger to the young adult fantasy genre, having previously done The Golden Compass and (shock horror) The Twilight Saga: New Moon, but it must be said, a project like Harry Potter is seriously epic stuff. Perhaps it was this massive expectation on my part for such greatness that I initially was disappointed with the score when I first heard it. Some tracks had that achingly emotional Desplat signature, while others fell short on resonance. This is what I initially thought. Recently, the DVD/Blu-ray was released here and it wasn’t until after I refreshed my memory (and my ears) of the film that I realised the score works perfectly in the film’s context, which is essentially a score’s purpose, after all. However, standing alone as an album, it can become tedious, though I’ve found every new listen to be exciting and engaging.

Desplat often writes music that is whimsical and romantic, with nostalgic homages to the classics. His strengths, I think, are creating understated pieces charged with emotion. What permeates and is emphasised throughout the Deathly Hallows score is a strong sense of foreboding and finality. The film begins with“Obliviate”, which must be the most emotionally devastating and most fiercely determined opening of all the Harry Potter films. And so it ought to be. Harry and his friends are no longer returning to Hogwarts. This is it—the final battle begins, everything is uncertain, but it must end at all costs. This is what’s impressed me most about the score: how mature it sounds. It’s degrees beyond the previous score, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by Nicholas Hooper, in scope and mood. The feelings of isolation, loss and fear are entrenched. It’s so easy to forget these are teenagers on the run, fighting to stay alive, tasked with the impossible. It makes sense that John Williams’ iconic “Hedwig’s Theme” is barely noticeable. It’s sparsely placed in the score—cover your ears and you’ll miss it. Desplat introduces new motifs and overtures to the score; though initially I felt quite lost in the unfamiliar sounds, it begins to assume a logic, indeed a magic, of its own. “Polyjuice Potion” and “The Will” are still laced with Hedwig’s theme, hinting at the loss of innocence that Harry’s owl and the (relatively) happy years at Hogwarts represent, but those days are over. “Nowhere is safe”, as the film tagline emphasises.

That said, “Dobby”, “Detonators”, “Ministry of Magic”, “Lovegood” and “The Deathly Hallows” still contain playful overtones, lightening the score’s intensely dark mood, but always there is the threatening undercurrent of  fear and danger. Desplat capitalises on some unique instruments and sounds, including Asian woodwinds and the mandolin, evoking a ye olde Baroque feel.

While Desplat excels at intimate orchestrations, he can certainly tackle action-packed sequences with ease. Add in a degree of horror to raise the hairs of your neck: “The Locket” and “The Exodus” are chilling, with their sharp, meandering notes; “Capture and Tortured” pulsates with drum cues followed by sombre strings, while hushed woodwinds and percussion make “Bathilda Bagshot” eery and ominous, breaking out into a crescendo of splintering strings and brass, as Harry and Hermione fight Voldemort’s vicious serpent, Nagini. “Snape to Malfoy Manor”,“Rescuing Hermione” and “Fireplaces Escape” get our pulses running. Harry, Ron and Hermione’s escape from the Ministry of Magic is breathtaking in the film, but even as a single track, it’s a sensational whirlwind chase. “Sky Battle” is a weaker song by comparison, rather dilapidated with noises colliding; it reminded me of Lord Faa, King of the Gyptians in The Golden Compass.

The most emotional points are often the most subtle arrangements, such as in “Hermione’s Parents”. The humble strings and percussion are orchestrated to amazing effect in “Ron Leaves”, “Godric’s Hollow Graveyard”, “Ron’s Speech” and “Farewell to Dobby”.  “Farewell to Dobby” is a heartfelt elegy, which is no less than the humble house-elf deserves for the greatest sacrifice of all. For me his was the most devastating death, and I do blubber quite a bit any time I hear this song or watch the scene in the film or read it in the book. Similarly, “Ron’s Speech” felt more like “Ron’s Confession to Hermione”. It’s incredibly poignant and romantic, a small gem that only Desplat could create. Ron explains to Harry and Hermione how he found them again—but really he’s attempting to redeem himself for Hermione, that Hermione’s voice led him back to her. This scene could easily have become saccharine and unbelievable, but instead expresses emotional depth (which is frankly shocking given Ron’s emotional range of a teaspoon, don’t forget), highlighting the tumultuous but enduring relationship between Ron and Hermione. It’s so gorgeous I get a bit teary here too. Yes, I sail the Good Ship all the way! And yes, I am a sap, but only when it comes to Ron and Hermione. “Harry and Ginny” also resonates with romantic restraint, though their relationship is only lightly touched on in the narrative.  I’m really hoping Ron and Hermione get their own theme in Part 2. REALLY.

You can feel there’s that signature quiet Desplat-ness to all these pieces, but also a new grandness reminiscent of sweeping romances and majestic heroism. It sounds much more like what Williams would be inclined to express. That’s not to insult either Desplat or Williams, but I think what makes their scores so memorable is how they capture tension and emotion with grandeur and eloquence.

My feelings toward the score have changed dramatically (see my 2010 in review post) and I berate myself for being so hasty in my judgement, but what can I say, I fiercely love Harry Potter and Alexandre Desplat, so I’m harsher in my opinion, it took me about four months to finally love the album, but this is a score that obviously requires patience and context to let the sounds resonate and leave an impression. Now with my eyes opened wider (or ears, rather), I truly believe the final chapter of Harry Potter is musically in sensitive and competent hands—not just because I am partial to Desplat. I’m really looking forward to hearing how Part 2 fares; given the exceedingly grim outcome of the narrative it should be just as gripping and exciting as Part 1, if not more so, especially if it’s as good as the new trailer suggests.

You can read an interview with Alexandre Desplat discussing his process in composing the score for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1 at the Harry Potter Fanzone. It’s an insightful and funny read, actually, reading into the working, genius mind of Desplat. I especially like this quote:

“… there’s a scene which I really liked scoring. There’s two of them. There’s the scene when Ron comes back. And Hermione and Harry are listening to him doing a little speech. And I really enjoyed trying to find the colour of this friendship. You know, it’s like writing a love scene. But it can’t be a love scene because they’re not in love. They’re just friends. And it’s on the edge. It’s very difficult to not become too emphatic or too cheesy. If the music is too romantic, you know, they’re not in love. So that was a challenging that I really loved because I liked the scene a lot.”

Well, Desplat definitely made it romantic, okay!

Tracklist:

1. Obliviate
2. Snape to Malfoy Manor
3. Polyjuice Potion
4. Sky Battle
5. At The Burrow
6. Harry and Ginny
7. The Will
8. Death Eaters
9. Dobby
10. Ministry of Magic
11. Detonators
12. The Locket
13. Fireplaces Escape
14. Ron Leaves
15. The Exodus
16. Godric’s Hollow Graveyard
17. Bathilda Bagshot
18. Hermione’s Parents
19. Destroying the Locket
20. Ron’s Speech
21. Lovegood
22. The Deathly Hallows
23. Captured and Tortured
24. Rescuing Hermione
25. Farewell to Dobby
26. The Elder Wand

Initially when I first read Chua’s article online I was bemused and unsurprised by the anger she generated, but then as I read on I grew appalled by Chua’s way of thinking in terms of Western and Chinese cultures. I thought to myself, here is yet another one of those entitled Asian mothers who brags about how awesome her children are—what music, science and academic prodigies they are! We’ve all encountered the kind at one ...]]> I couldn’t help but gravitate toward the recent controversy of Amy Chua and her “tiger mothering” methods. After all, like my other Chinese (or Asian, really) first/second generation counterparts, we’ve all been through similar childhoods, and we’ve all had a good self-deprecating chortle at all the “fobby” things our parents did and made us do. Ms Chua, however, is an entity unto herself. Extremely neurotic, obsessive, controlling—she is all those things, and then some. She herself admits in her book that she wouldn’t wish herself on any child. This book is by no means a how-to guide for parenting—it is a surprisingly entertaining (sometimes on a perverse level) memoir, fusing a celebration of parental success with a cautionary tale of the dangers of caring too much.

Initially when I first read Chua’s article online I was bemused and unsurprised by the anger she generated, but then as I read on I grew appalled by Chua’s way of thinking in terms of Western and Chinese cultures. I thought to myself, here is yet another one of those entitled Asian mothers who brags about how awesome her children are—what music, science and academic prodigies they are! We’ve all encountered the kind at one point or another. But after reading Chua’s memoir in full (the article is only a selected excerpt), I was surprised by how (relatively) reasonable she sounds. Her writing is eloquent and engaging and I found myself breezing through her story quickly. It made me wonder that most of the people who are in a furore over Chua are simply misinformed. That is not to say I approve of Chua’s methods—they are severe and mind-boggling, but conversely I can appreciate the intense dedication and effort Chua committed to her two daughters’ upbringing, so I feel like I understand Chua’s motivations a little better, and even admire her sheer audacity. Now that’s a freaking tiger.

Chua first introduces her story with a kind of disclaimer:

This is a story about a mother, two daughters, and two dogs. It’s also about Mozart and Mendelssohn, the piano and the violin, and how we made it to Carnegie Hall.

This was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising kids than Western ones.

But instead, it’s about a bitter clash of cultures, a fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen year old.

This does sum up the the memoir nicely.

Chua labels herself as “the Chinese mother” who raises stereotypically successful kids—the maths geniuses and musical prodigies. Chua’s husband, Jed, curiously, is Jewish, and it was agreed that their children be raised Jewish but speak Chinese Mandarin (and by default, taught in the Chinese way). You can imagine the powerhouse of a dynamic this family must be. Strangely, we don’t hear much of Jed in the book, and it may seem odd and negligent of him to not intervene in conflicts between his wife and his daughter/s. It must come down to the “Tiger Mother’s FEARSOME POWER!” which conservative Chinese mothers tend to have. I know this first hand.

I want to make it clear: there is strictly no such thing as “Chinese parenting”—the parenting Chua describes relates more with Chinese philosophy and societal values over centuries, as she loosely explains. Even so, I grant you, if you consulted most parents in contemporary China about Chua’s parenting they would be horrified too. And there are just as many negligent Chinese parents in mainland China as there are negligent Western parents. I discussed at length with my own father, who is essentially my tiger mother (as my mum has the sharp criticising tongue of a tiger but the parenting ethic of a negligent pet owner, seriously), about Chua, and he said to me bluntly, “she’s crazy!” but conceded that there is some merit in what she imposes on her children.

It’s funny that he said that, because as a child, I often thought my dad was so strict with me (but that’s what kids are practically programmed to think). Despite my being the only child and that I wanted for nothing, I was also subjected to an early academic regimen. I was a model student with straight As (which began to fluctuate by the end of high school). I knew complex maths by age 7 (Chua’s daughters had to be at least 2 years ahead of their class); I dared not tell my father of  a mark I received below 90%, which was already bad enough as that was 10% off a perfect 100%. If I found a word I did not understand I had to look it up in the dictionary, and write it down in a book. Dad introduced me to Charles Dickens at age 8 (one of the best things he did for me, in retrospect!) and always forced me to independent and think for myself. He would put me down so that I would then better myself—being cruel to be kind. I hated to disappoint my father, and was terrified of his disapproval, but I still managed to do so with stunning ease. It’s better now that I’ve finished university, but the limbo between high school and university is some of my darkest days, but I digress!

While there is no 101 for Chinese parenting, there is a distinct culture and thinking inherent in the Chinese that you can’t really deny. I too was constantly berated to not be complacent, to be humble and always improve myself. I’ve had countless retellings of my dad’s experience in the Cultural Revolution—the relentless studying and intense physical labour on the farms while leading a less than humble life, yet these are his fondest memories. This is something I can’t possibly appreciate; I can’t even feel humbled by it because it’s just way out of my grasp and understanding. I will never experience this. The Chinese have many idioms highlighting that you can’t taste sweetness without knowing bitterness, and my generation has been blessed to know only sweetness. There is much in Chua’s ideas regarding work ethics and expectations that mirrors my father’s, and I’m sure, countless other Asian children’s parents. But this is the extent to which Chua and my dad are similar.

Chua largely talks about how she trained her daughters to be stellar classical music performers. Most of the musical jargon flies over my head. She frequently uses examples to highlight the dichotomies of Western and Chinese cultures but loses ground towards her conclusion, which is telling of the self-doubts and unprecedented incidents she herself encountered as a strictly “Chinese” mother. Chua amazingly conceals prejudiced beliefs with moderate, reasonable ideas. For example, Chua argues that she wants her children “to be well rounded and to have hobbies and activities” and “to benefit from the best aspects of American society and not end up like one of those weird Asian automatons who feel so much pressure from their parents that they kill themselves after coming second on the national civil service exam”. But they can’t just apply themselves to any activity. “Crafts” are out of the question as they “lead to nowhere” and “drums” are even worse because apparently they lead to drugs. Chua’s two daughters, Lulu and Sophie play the violin and piano respectively. This becomes their “hobby” because of the instruments’ meaning and difficulty, with the potential for depth and virtuosity. (I would’ve been Chua’s worst nightmare then—my virtuosity was er… playing on the computer and drawing and writing fiction.) Chua later derides herself for becoming a “Western parent” for letting Lulu make her “decision” to ease up on the violin practising, and equates this to becoming a failure.

These are just some of her provocative ideas. She asserts that “all decent parents want to do what’s best for their children. The Chinese just have a totally different idea of how to do that. Western parents try to respect their children’s individuality, encouraging them to pursue their true passions, supporting their choices, and providing positive reinforcement and a nurturing environment. By contrast, the Chinese believe that the best way to protect their children is by preparing them for the future, letting them see what they’re capable of, and arming them with skills, work habits and inner confidence that no one can ever take away.” Lulu actually rebels against her mother; although it pains Chua to feel Lulu slip out of her tutelage, as it were, the work ethic and values she so aggressively impressed upon her daughters was not for naught, as Lulu takes up a new activity with the same determination and drive as she committed to her violin. Chua admits her trials with Lulu have been “traumatic”, so even the tiger mother does not exit this battle unscathed.

Though my upbringing was nowhere near as severe as Chua’s daughters, I appreciate what little (by comparison) my father taught me when I was young. I am fortunate to have gotten a well-rounded Asian and Western upbringing package without the extra abuse and trauma. I don’t have glittering academic achievements but I have two degrees from a prestigious Australian university. The hours and abuse are long, but I am in a job I genuinely enjoy and find rewarding, and I did it largely without my parents’ help—financial aide and some emotional support notwithstanding. (Yet Chua also has a comeback for this platitude: “Just because you love seomething doesn’t mean you’ll be great. Not if you don’t work. Most people stink at the things they love.”) Both my parents were strict with me in terms of academia and manners, though I could never be quite comfortable confiding in them about more emotional aspects (hmm, The Talk? Never got it—thanks popular culture for teaching me though), but I would be an ungrateful brat to ask for more. I imagine with the kind of incessant mothering Chua did for her children, I could well have been a maths or literary genius, but ultimately we come back to the Nature versus Nurture debate and the right of choice. If the drive to be the best is within you, and you are willing to make the sacrifices and work harder than those beside you, you can and will be successful. Of course, it would help very much to have the supportive and nurturing love and guidance of one’s parents while in pursuit of personal dreams.

While Chua comes off as self-congratulatory and autocratic, and constantly thinks in only black and white terms (respectable/disrespectful, Chinese/Western, success/failure, et al), I can’t bring myself up to hating her either. I thought I did before, but that’s probably because I hadn’t read her book. I abhor her methods, as they are dangerous and detrimental to well-being and mental/physical health but she honestly believes that she has done good by her children, and luckily for her, she succeeded with her children because they could take it. I would have crumbled aeons ago under her diabolical regimen. The dynamics of her parenting changed when Lulu chose to pursue a different hobby other than violin, and Chua struggles to conclude her memoir, even consulting her husband and daughters for ideas. Does this mean then, that Western and Asian philosophies are not as mutually exclusive as she made them to be?

Psychologists say there are three kinds of parents: a) the democratic parent who knows how to compromise with the child, b) the abusive parent who eventually stirs up hate/resentment in the child, and c) the inactive parent who lets the child do whatever s/he pleases.

Parents aren’t perfect. Their parents weren’t perfect. Years from now it’ll be interesting to see how Chua’s daughters feel over how their mother raised them, whether they regret the “choices” they made, or not at all. I’m still pondering about this myself. Perhaps I won’t know for sure until I have children of my own (!). If I were ever to have children—and frankly the very thought frightens me to no end—I would hope to be a reasonable parent. But then, I don’t think I’d wish myself upon any future child either!

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
In a word: provocative

The roadies unveiled a giant shimmering silver nylon/spandex set prop shaped like a gramophone horn. Just a teasing prelude into what the night ahead promised. Given the physical limitations of the stage I was a bit apprehensive about how it would all turn out. But come half an hour later, boy did I have absolutely nothing to worry about, because as soon as “Voice Thing” started sighing through the airwaves and the lights flashed and the dry ice made a smoky haze, it was just one continual stream of dazzling, palpitating, hallucinogenic spectacles after another.

Almost floating out of a mist, Alison Goldfrapp drifted out onstage in a brilliant figure-hugging sequinned jumpsuit and the most mesmerising poncho apparently made of twinkling tinsel/tape, which scintillated against the breeze (spurred on by super fans), and of course her signature wild frizzy blonde hair. The familiar heaving bass of “Crystalline Green” pounded through the speakers ...]]> Last night, all was crowded on the Palace front. My uni buddies and I sidled into a space at the front, watching the opening band, Seja, perform (who was good in a mellow, Au Revoir Simone synth-pop/electronica way, if a little shaky) but we were really just  impatient for Goldfrapp.

The roadies unveiled a giant shimmering silver nylon/spandex set prop shaped like a gramophone horn. Just a teasing prelude into what the night ahead promised. Given the physical limitations of the stage I was a bit apprehensive about how it would all turn out. But come half an hour later, boy did I have absolutely nothing to worry about, because as soon as “Voice Thing” started sighing through the airwaves and the lights flashed and the dry ice made a smoky haze, it was just one continual stream of dazzling, palpitating, hallucinogenic spectacles after another.

Almost floating out of a mist, Alison Goldfrapp drifted out onstage in a brilliant figure-hugging sequinned jumpsuit and the most mesmerising poncho apparently made of twinkling tinsel/tape, which scintillated against the breeze (spurred on by super fans), and of course her signature wild frizzy blonde hair. The familiar heaving bass of “Crystalline Green” pounded through the speakers and that just set us all off into spasmodic ecstasy. This is the Goldfrapp we all know and love. Barely a sign of the folksy Seventh Tree here, just brilliant, electric 80s disco-pop and dark synth-heavy numbers. Goldfrapp covered most of her latest album, Head First, then four songs each from Black Cherry and Supernature, and “Utopia” from Felt Mountain.

Goldfrapp’s crew were just as glitteringly attired to match; the lads in shiny, patterned (even saggy, unflattering) jumpsuits, and the female keyboardist in sexy sequinned hotpants. I could barely see the drummer or supporting bass player on the right hand side.

“Rocket”, “Train”, “Ride a White Horse”, “Shiny and Warm”, “Believer” and “Ooh La La” (and well, pretty much every song) had such fabulous intros; it sucks that we couldn’t really dance around much, being so squished as we were, but everybody was moved by the pounding bass, catchy rhythms and the seamless lighting effects, which ranged from near seizure-inducing white flashes to waves of psychedelic, vivid hues. Never did a performance turn gaudy or tacky (god, I hate that word so much now) though they certainly ventured on camp ground, but somehow Goldfrapp totally validates the kitsch value into hyper chic. Alison slurred and breathlessly teased her way through each song, swaying and reaching in that floaty, almost aggressive way of hers, and concomitantly, stamping and marching to the heavy basslines. So shameless in the glitz, and cheesy, feel good glam-pop; I felt so at home! Like SHE GETS THIS SHIT, SHE LOVES IT, TOO!

After a rapturous “Ooh La La” Alison disappeared to return for the first encore, with a gauzy, frilly top with an Elizabethan ruff (I don’t even know what to call it) but it reminded me of a saucy ragdoll. After singing the two songs, she sauntered backstage once more, this time changing into a pink and white cowboy yeti-esque jacket, to finish the show with an electrifying, stomping “Strict Machine”. I was pretty disappointed that Goldfrapp didn’t sing “Satin Chic” or even “Lovely 2 C U”, but hands down “Strict Machine” was one powerful, thrilling climax to a sensational performance from beginning to end, leaving us drifting on a total high. We left the Palace with “Oompah Radar” playing, practically trooping us out with playful, sinister ease. Overall, Goldfrapp was absolutely worth paying the $90. I’m so glad I bought the ticket (while I could still afford to). She is a fantastic performer and artist; despite her relatively modest set design and props, she was thoroughly engaging and euphoric with a rich neo-baroque theatrical sensibility. More entertainers should take notes from her.

Please come back again soon, Goldfrapp! YOU ARE HOT AND WE LOVE YOU!

I found a link to a review that features photos of Goldfrapp in pretty much the exact same ensemble of costumes. Gotta say I would love to sift through her wardrobe; so many (literally) bright gems.

This was pretty much her setlist:

Crystalline Green
I Wanna Life
You Never Know
Rocket
Head First
Number 1
Believer
Alive
Shiny and Warm
Train
Ride a White Horse
Ooh La La

Encore:
Utopia
Black Cherry

Second encore:
Strict Machine (SO EFFING AMAZING)

“GO BEYOND YOUR IMAGINATION” urges the bold slogan for Salvador Dalí: Liquid Desire, the blockbuster exhibition currently showing at NGV International, as part of Melbourne’s Winter Masterpieces series. Indeed the exhibition encourages us to forsake our preconceived and perhaps misinformed ...]]> For the lucky Melburnians and visitors in town, the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) for today only is showing Salvador Dalí: Liquid Desire for 24 hours, from 10am till 10am tomorrow morning. It’s the last day today to see it! Isn’t that brilliant? Sure, they’re probably just trying to squeeze in last minute cash, but I’m sure they’ll be successful tonight. I for one love the idea of popping by at 3 in the morning; if only I felt safe enough to do so. I visited twice on two Art After Dark Wednesdays (poor student that I am). I stayed five hours on the latter Wednesday, not really because it was that “omg awesome!”, but I was frantically jotting down hundreds of notes for my essay, which I’ve published below. The exhibition just bursts with so much detail and diversity; 300,000 people have attended already, but it begs the question—what makes Dalí so popular, given his eccentric, exuberant life and career?

“GO BEYOND YOUR IMAGINATION” urges the bold slogan for Salvador Dalí: Liquid Desire, the blockbuster exhibition currently showing at NGV International, as part of Melbourne’s Winter Masterpieces series. Indeed the exhibition encourages us to forsake our preconceived and perhaps misinformed notions of Salvador Dalí’s (1904–89) life and art, and look beyond his “melting clocks”, in reference to The Persistence of Memory (1931), the Surrealist painting for which he is arguably most recognised. In fact, Dalí’s contribution to Surrealism encompasses only a small part of his career. Liquid Desire invites us to explore the full scope of his illustrious and fascinating career, including not just his work in painting, but also prints, drawings, objects, film, photography, literature, design, his epic romance with his wife, Gala, and his colourful life as a celebrity. The exhibition is a pivotal achievement in Dalí’s recognition as a great 20th century artist, as it is the first and largest comprehensive retrospective to be held in Australia, conceived and developed over seven years by a team of five curators. It comprises over 200 displayed works, most of which are on loan from the two largest collections of Dalí in the world: Fundacio Gala-Salvador Dalí in Spain and the Salvador Dalí Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida. The exhibition methodically charts Dalí’s career in chronological sections, with understated design but always providing entertaining insights into the curious character himself.

One of the strongest messages coming through Liquid Desire is the breakdown of preconceptions that Dalí is limited to just the small window of Surrealist works of the 1930s that is familiar to everyone. Do not expect to see The Persistence of Memory in this collection. “If you think you know Dalí’s work, think again,” boasts NGV Director Gerard Vaughn. The extensive diversity of works on display is certainly testament to that statement. It is indeed refreshing to learn about the inner workings of a Spanish artist other than Picasso or Magritte. NGV Curator Ted Gott vehemently proposed to the lenders about a “complete retrospective, as comprehensive as possible, not just privileging the famous paintings.” Dalí did not limit himself to any one medium. The layout of the exhibition highlights this notion, starting with “Teenage Dalí” which emphasises Dalí’s exceptional Impressionist work, hinting at the genius that is to come, followed by his experimentation and absorption of Cubism, Abstraction, Neo-Classicism, New Objectivity during his student years, and his contribution to the Surrealist movement in Paris in the 1930s. His work becomes ever diverse once he relocates to America during the Second World War, where he dabbled in virtually every creative medium possible. In this respect, he was very much like the Old Masters for whom he held such high regard. This fondness for the Renaissance influence is very much alive in all his works. Like Da Vinci before him, many of Dalí’s ideas were far ahead of his time, such as his elaborate set designs for renowned film directors, Fritz Lang and Walt Disney; unfortunately they often could not come to fruition due to technology constraints. 2003 saw the completion of Dalí’s and Disney’s Destino, a remarkable and exquisite feat that remains faithful to the original creators’ intentions. We can only wistfully imagine where Dalí might have taken animation or photography, given his experiments all predating digital technology. Insights like these give us a glimpse into Dalí’s immense versatility across all creative media.

While Liquid Desire marks the first Dalí retrospective in the country, there is a nostalgia for Dalí’s Australian presence in the past, as Memory of the child-woman (1932) was the first and only work by Dalí to be shown at the Herald and Weekly Times 1939 Exhibition of French and British Contemporary Art, and again briefly at the NGV in 1943. Dalí’s painting met controversy among bewildered audiences (many of whom had never seen Surrealist art before), with its blatant Freudian readings of solitary nightmares. It received scathing reviews from notable figures of the Australian art establishment who thought it overtly sexual and masochistic. They rigorously denounced both Freud and Dalí alike. Regardless, the painting’s notoriety only heightened its popularity among the public. It created a new dialogue with Australia and the Australian literary, music and art world.  It is curious to note the reception of its now third viewing of the painting today to that of 70 years ago, and to recognise its power to provoke and intrigue, even in 2009. Moreover, it is a poignant moment to realise the direct relevance that Dalí had to Australian art history.

Given the enduring allure of the Dalí name worldwide, there comes a responsibility in truthful representation and preservation of the artist’s intentions. However, when it comes to Dalí, trying to deal with his character is a tenuous issue; given that his persona is so encompassing, trying to find the truth behind it is impossible. Liquid Desire does not follow the thematic approach; rather, it adheres to a strict chronology, but it works naturally. Gott’s vision of the exhibition was “not over the top and surreal with melting walls and weird things”. Overall the exhibition is laid out as a classical Old Master exhibition. The walls are sparsely coloured in neutral hues, letting the artwork speak for themselves. There is a sense of order in amongst the diverse subject matter; however, when it comes to chronicling Dalí, there is a delicious twist. We may start out with the teenage impressionist and finish with an aging Renaissance artist fascinated by atomic theory and optics. That is the strangeness of Dalí. Thematic structuring of his artwork is unnecessary, given that his chronology is itself so bizarre and fascinating. Moreover, exhibition routes cannot be defined for each individual. Newcomers to Dalí may welcome the sequential order, but “wall jumpers” may choose to explore at random, creating a discord to navigate through. They may defy the stifling procession that comes with huge crowd numbers hovering over the same artwork in the same order. Perhaps Dalí himself would have preferred it this way in the Surrealist spirit. He describes his ideal museum space as a “labyrinth, a great surrealist object”. People will leave with the sensation of having had a “theatrical dream”. Certainly we all have some sort of fantastical experience, perhaps a desire to paint our own dreams, in the gallery space.

Despite the seriousness in its representation of Dalí as an Old Master, the exhibition is not without its “weird” aspects. Just as Dalí had no shame in taking his brand of surrealism to the masses (particularly in America, Dalí’s land of opportunity), Gott has no qualms about bringing the camp side of Dalí to the surface in Liquid Desire, merging Dalí’s profound, avant-garde works of his younger years and his later intrigue over science and religion with his self-promotional dalliances in American popular culture. Television ads, interviews and fashion parades reveal Dalí as an eccentric but cultivated showman (“I am mad” he ambiguously states in one instance); his infamous and trademark moustache is boldly displayed and distorted in his collaborated works with photographer, Phillipe Halsman. He designed ads for Bryans Hosiery, an ashtray for Air India and even a shoe-hat. He could call big names like Harpo Marx, Andy Warhol, Coco Chanel, Alfred Hitchcock and Alice Cooper his friends and collaborators. Even his long passionate union with his older wife, muse and manager, Gala, provoked delight and scandal amongst contemporary audiences. Curiously, Dalí’s work often depicts her as a saint, a goddess demanding great reverence, yet Gala herself appears an elusive figure in real life, only adding to Dalí’s appeal. It shocked and outraged the American high art establishment (in an assent towards Abstract Expressionism, a movement Dalí found akin to “indigestion”), but we may read this now as a mischievous artist trying to break down the snobbery associated with all so-called high and low culture. Perhaps Dalí did trivialise his talents as an artist, but his Renaissance idealisation of craftsmanship and design marries seamlessly with the supposedly common material and subject, transcending his work into something else entirely. Dalí embodies this quintessential mix of contradiction and embellishment, making him all the more peculiar and entertaining. The exhibition is mindful of his reputation and lustre as a cultural icon by giving us a complete overview, letting us form our own bias. Today we can gleefully chortle at this romantic, bohemian life so foreign to our own.

Additionally, eccentric Dalínian motifs appear throughout the exhibition space in both subtle and explicit formations. For instance, even before entering the exhibition we first encounter Dalí’s character signature recreated as a bright neon sign—the quirky, scripted penmanship briefly hints at what we can expect from the flamboyant showman. Large sticker prints of ants periodically scour the walls and floors, acting as guides or curious diversions for the visitor. The ants clearly refer to Dalí’s obsession with their associations to decay and destruction, manifested in such featured works as Un chien andalou (1929) or Soft self-portrait with grilled bacon (1941). A silhouetted rhinoceros plaque also periodically marks works of interest, with brief descriptions that simplify the works’ complexities and questions aimed at engaging younger audiences. For example, “Do you sometimes like to be different from other people?” in reference to The Sick Child—Self Portrait (c.1921) which seems to undermine the deeper themes Dalí intended to portray, but nonetheless it creates an open dialogue with children. Curiously, one wonders how children react when bombarded by such a kaleidoscope of mature and bizarre work. The rhino motif must seem less intimidating to a child than other Surrealist imagery, and no doubt alludes to Dalí and the rhinoceros (1956) and Dalí’s fascination with the mathematical perfection of the animal’s horn.

Furthermore, certain sections of the exhibition are displayed in tactile and multimedia environments that both accentuate the themes represented, and interact with the visitor on different levels. Upon entering the exhibition we are led to a three panel video installation of Dalí’s native Catalonia in Spain. The installation makes a strong connection between Dalí’s artistic imagination and the ruggedly romantic landscapes of the vast wind-swept plains of the Ampurdán and the rocky “otherworld” of the Cap de Creus. We feel a sense of its tranquillity and lushness through the ambient surround sound, and moody lighting. One engages with the singular and focused dialogue of communion with the aboriginal terrain; this holds extra resonance to Australian audiences with our own keen sense of the importance of land and the psyche of both our indigenous peoples and our pioneering ancestors. Though there are no signs of his Surrealist vision just yet, we are teased into stripping back and discovering Dalí’s origins. Likewise the walls in the “Renaissance” section are furnished with a sumptuous pattern of alternating black stripes in a perfectly tempered mood. The featured works, predominantly of Dalí’s black and white ink illustrations of The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini (a polymath of the High Renaissance) are imbued with a glowing effect in stark contrast to the dark background. Central to this arena is a majestic flower arrangement, characterising Dalí’s reverence for the Renaissance’s renewed desire to depict the beauty of nature and symmetry. Similarly, surface textures are effectively utilised in “Jewels” in which the room is upholstered in cushioned red velvet panels, like a precious jewellery box. The jewelled objects are held in black velvet-lined glass-fronted lock safes recessed into the walls. This sensibility to rich, sensuous texture and the opulent hedonism of jewellery makes the experience a welcome change when aligned to Dalí’s darker and absurd works. Tactile texture also appears in the cinema showing Un chien andalou. The walls are lined with thick black fur, which is a Dalí reference. Gott explains: “In the early 1930s Dalí fantasised that he would create dog fur lined living rooms for his patron Edward James so that is why the cinema is fur lined.” In-jokes like these enrich visitors with prior knowledge of the artist, so even people familiar with Dalí can still be pleasantly surprised. We can never know what to expect next.

Aside from the exhibition, the visitor can enjoy a number of related activities and programs designed to enrich the Dalí experience. Free guided tours operate daily, symposiums and introductory talks are held discussing aspects of Dalí’s career and life; classes and workshops provide in-depth views into Dalí’s philosophies, interests and practice for kids, students and adults alike. Attend movie screenings, experience a taste of the Catalan medieval past beloved by Dalí with a performance by the Early Music Consort of Melbourne, or imagine yourself in Dalí’s world of decadent parties in New York, and dance to the sounds of the roaring 20s with the Cairo Club Orchestra. The multitude of lively and popular events seems to suggest the NGV’s intention to further break down the distinction between high culture and low culture, of viewing the artwork in a traditional setting, and experiencing the artist via other outlets. While they are not quite the “real thing”, these events allow us to briefly enter the world that Dalí inhabited, and we are able to appreciate him that much more.

Despite Dalí’s position at the forefront of so many of the 20th century’s artistic, political and social events and developments, there are few serious appraisals of his life and times. Liquid Desire attempts to rectify this problem by presenting a kaleidoscopic and panoramic celebration of both the extraordinary works and life of an extraordinary character. The exhibition proudly affords him a place in shaping the assent of contemporary art. Notwithstanding his crazy antics and his commercial work, Dalí’s work reveals intelligent engagement with contemporary science and art movements. As we read more about Dalí, the mask of the jokester and the typecasting of him dissolve and we realise the incredible breadth of the man. Just as Dalí constantly disturbed the equilibrium of social and cultural norms, the exhibition alters our initial opinions about his character and work. Multiple viewings of Dalí’s sheer abundance may unveil just why he remains such an intriguing and multi-faceted enigma. Perhaps we cannot see further into Dalí’s character than what is on the surface, but as Gott argues, “What’s wrong with the enjoyment of the artifice itself? He devoted his whole life to it. Let’s enjoy it and thank him for it.”

Selected Bibliography
Frey, Bertron Schwartz. Designing Exhibitions – A Compendium for Architects, Designers and Museum Professionals. Basel: Birkhauser – Publishers for Architecture, 2006.
Gott, Ted, Montse Aguer Teixidor, Joan Kropf, Laurie Benson and Sophie Matthiesson. Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire. Melbourne: National Gallery of Victoria, 2009. Published in conjunction with the exhibition: “Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire” shown at the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, Victoria 13 June to 4 October, 2009.
Henning, Michelle. Museums, Media and Cultural Theory. Maidenhead: Open University Press, 2006.
Hooper-Greenhill, Eilean. Museums and their Visitors. London: Routledge, 1994.
Kachur, Lewis. Displaying the Marvelous – Marcel Duchamp, Salvador Dali, and Surrealist Exhibition Installations. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2001.
Newhouse, Victoria. Art and the Power of Placement. New York: Monacelli Press, Inc., 2005.
Putnam, James. Art and Artifact – The Museum as Medium. London: Thames & Hudson, 2001
Weisberg, Shelley K. Museum Movement Techniques – How to Craft a Moving Museum Experience. New York: AltaMira Press, 2006.

Electronic Sources
Featured Dali paintings from The Age
Anderson, Gary. ‘Dr Ted Gott and Salvador Dali,’ ArtsHub: http://www.artshub.com.au.ezproxy.lib.monash.edu.au/au/newsPrint.asp?sId=178962 [accessed: 26/8/09]
Anderson, Gary. ‘Dr Ted Gott and Salvador Dali Part II,’ ArtsHub: http://www.artshub.com.au.ezproxy.lib.monash.edu.au/au/newsPrint.asp?sId=179022 [accessed: 26/8/09]
Bunyan, Marcus. ‘Exhibition photographs: ‘Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire’ Melbourne Winter Masterpieces at the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne « Art Blart’: http://artblart.wordpress.com/2009/06/11/exhibition-salvador-dali-liquid-desire-melbourne-winter-masterpieces-at-the-national-gallery-of-victoria-melbourne [accessed: 21/8/09]
Edwards, David. ‘Salvador Dalí: Liquid Desire – art preview from The Blurb’: http://www.theblurb.com.au/Issue102/Dali.htm [accessed: 19/8/09]
McLaren, Rebecca. ‘Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire – ABC Melbourne (Australian Broadcasting Corporation)’: http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2009/06/12/2597037.htm [accessed: 19/8/09]
National Gallery of Victoria. “Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire.” http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/dali [accessed: 19/8/09]
Nelson, Robert. ‘Salvador Dali exhibition Liquid Desire opens at NGV Melbourne’: http://www.theage.com.au/executive-style/culture/salvador-dali-rolls-into-town-20090612-c5ly.html?page=-1 [accessed: 21/8/09]
Thompson, Karen. ‘Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire’ @ NGV « Melbourne Jeweller’: http://melbournejeweller.wordpress.com/2009/06/22/salvador-dali-liquid-desire-ngv?[accessed: 21/8/09]
‘The Age – Salvador Dali – Liquid Desire’: http://www.theage.com.au/interactive/2009/national/dali [accessed: 21/8/09]
‘The Design Files: Salvador Dali : Liquid Desire exhibition at the NGV’: http://www.thedesignfiles.net/2009/07/salvador-dali-liquid-desire-exhibition.html [accessed: 21/8/09]
‘Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire’: http://www.theage.com.au/photogallery/entertainment/salvador-dali-liquid-desire/20090611-c4nt.html [accessed: 21/8/09]

I’ll have my review of the film soon enough, but I thought I’d jot down my thoughts on the score now while my enthusiasm’s still this amazingly high. Once again, British composer Nicholas Hooper takes up the mantle of composing the Harry Potter films for director David Yates. I thoroughly enjoyed his interpretation of The Order of the Phoenix—really, just glad to be shot of John Williams for once—and I fully anticipated the same magical and uncoventional tone that embodied the last score. I am probably one of the few who’s absolutely adored what Hooper’s contributed to the series. Yeah, maybe I’m a nutcase. But I admire how he takes advantage of what’s at his disposal—he creates unusual musical arrangements but somehow he makes them work. He takes calculated, creative risks and I think for the most part they’re incredibly successful. It’s wonderful, really, and I couldn’t be more pleased with what he’s done in Half-Blood Prince. If only the film had highlighted this wondrous music better. Apparently Hooper may be stepping down for the Deathly Hallows films, making way for John Williams’ return. Personally am not warming to this piece of news (just yet).

Essentially the Spirit (Gabriel Macht) is former rookie cop Denny Colt, brought back into the world to rid Central City of the bad guys, namely the Octopus (Samuel L Jackson). He has the begrudging blessings of the Chief Commisioner Dolan (Clearly Commissioner Gordon and Batman have a far healthier work relationship than Dolan and Spirit ever had…) who doesn’t exactly approve of the Spirit’s methods. Well, shock horror there.

I’ve always thought that Frank Miller is a mad genius but lately his work has been nothing short of confusing, bizarre and way beyond the post-post-post-post-modern. And yes, his misogyny and sexism is duly noted (Selina Kyle the whore much?). But in spite of all this, I still enjoy most of his new stuff since he dares to push his audiences to the limit. The only work of his I simply could not handle was The Dark Knight ...]]> I saw The Spirit at the Jam Factory this morning with Sylv. Since we went to the very first session of the day we had the whole theatre to ourselves! That was great. The movie—not so great, but still entertaining albeit on a superficial level. The excitement died down the instant we left the cinema.

Essentially the Spirit (Gabriel Macht) is former rookie cop Denny Colt, brought back into the world to rid Central City of the bad guys, namely the Octopus (Samuel L Jackson). He has the begrudging blessings of the Chief Commisioner Dolan (Clearly Commissioner Gordon and Batman have a far healthier work relationship than Dolan and Spirit ever had…) who doesn’t exactly approve of the Spirit’s methods. Well, shock horror there.

I’ve always thought that Frank Miller is a mad genius but lately his work has been nothing short of confusing, bizarre and way beyond the post-post-post-post-modern. And yes, his misogyny and sexism is duly noted (Selina Kyle the whore much?). But in spite of all this, I still enjoy most of his new stuff since he dares to push his audiences to the limit. The only work of his I simply could not handle was The Dark Knight Strikes Again. Completely unnecessary and ultimately infuriating.

I have not read any of Will Eisner’s work (yet), so I guess my opinion on the film adaptation could have been much worse. Miller’s brash over-the-top style oozes long-winded, unintentionally hilarious monologues, gratuitous violence, obscure references to other comics and femme fetales sporting bizarre outfits and kinks. Did not expect (and yet not surprised) to see a Nazi homage/spoof in the film, with Samuel L. Jackson playing the mad Josef Mengele-like “experimenter” and Scarlett Johansson sporting a prissy dominatrix get-up a la camp!SS- she-wolf. Was rolling my eyes at this spectacle the whole time. It reminded me painfully of Miller’s fascist villains in All Star Batman and Robin series and The Dark Knight Returns. Eva Mendes’ character Sand Saref (which in my mind was sans-serif, go figure that) is painfully irritating even for a femme fatale, while Sarah Paulson’s Ellen Dolan is the “resilient” down-to-earth lady in the sideline. A scarlet woman and an innocent damsel for our swashbuckling superhero. Hoo-hah.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars (I’d give it more like 2.85)

What was way more awesome was watching the X-MEN Origins: Wolverine and Watchmen trailers back to back beforehand. Bloody brilliant. I truly cannot wait! That said, I intend to purchase the Watchmen graphic novel, but am not sure whether I want the paperback or the hardback. There are so many newly released books related to the film. Talk about marketing for the weak-willed masses.

And breaking news: apparently a Dark Knight sequel may be set for release in 2011, as hinted by the film’s executive producer himself, Michael E. Uslan (also responsible for pretty much every Batman production in motion picture). I think I may be warming a bit more to this idea now…

Have spent nearly half of my pay in one day on comics/books:

• Over and Over: A Catalogue of Hand Drawn Patterns – Michael Perry
• The Perils of Pleasure – Julie Anne Long
• Batman: The Long Halloween – Jeph Loeb, Tim Sale
• Batman: Private Casebook – Paul Dini, Dustin Nguyen
• Batman #685 – Paul Dini, Dustin Nguyen
• Amazing Spiderman #853 Variant Third Printing (the Obama issue, lolz) – Mark Waid, Phil Jimenez

Geebus, I don’t know how to save money…

Anyhow, some weeks ago I had applied for a web designer job at Lincraft, and had forgotten about it following my project with a new client, but I got a rejection email today. Ah, well. C’est la vie. I can’t travel to Clayton regularly anyway…

You know, after last night’s epic Australian Open men’s singles final, I am totally shipping Federer/Nadal. They are so awesome and so lovely! :D Can’t they both be number 1 together? :(

Also saw Australia yesterday.

I liked it overall, most likely ’cause I didn’t have great expectations, although I am partial to a sweeping, war epic (when it’s good, and this is quite good). Luhrmann’s really tried to pay tribute to the colonial Australian vernacular, perhaps to its downfall. It’s really, really long. But Hugh Jackman is hot. REALLY hot. And that should justify a viewing, at the very least!

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

Brideshead Revisited

Up until this point I always assumed Evelyn Waugh was a woman, but this is the name, in fact, of a man. And I had no idea that the mini-series adaptation was held in such high regard. I got “free” tickets for an advanced screening at Nova, thanks to my delightful affiliation with the Monash Golden Key Society. Honestly, I paid $93 to join them; I should get the money back slowly but surely, no? In any case, I’m glad I didn’t technically pay for the film, because it was a bit of a disappointment. My appetite for visual candy was more than satisfied, however, probably to the point of gluttony. It is a sumptuous, seductive film for the senses. But for the mind? Maybe not so much. The protagonist, Charles Ryder, a modest painter is introduced to a world of decadence, wealth and opulence through his growing relationship with Sebastian Flyte at Oxford. He is swept away by the grandness of Sebastian’s home, Brideshead. What follows is a series of events that lead Charles into the closing, controlling grip of Brideshead itself, and the choices he makes ...]]> (I initally meant to post this on the 1st October. Go me.)

Brideshead Revisited

Up until this point I always assumed Evelyn Waugh was a woman, but this is the name, in fact, of a man. And I had no idea that the mini-series adaptation was held in such high regard. I got “free” tickets for an advanced screening at Nova, thanks to my delightful affiliation with the Monash Golden Key Society. Honestly, I paid $93 to join them; I should get the money back slowly but surely, no? In any case, I’m glad I didn’t technically pay for the film, because it was a bit of a disappointment. My appetite for visual candy was more than satisfied, however, probably to the point of gluttony. It is a sumptuous, seductive film for the senses. But for the mind? Maybe not so much. The protagonist, Charles Ryder, a modest painter is introduced to a world of decadence, wealth and opulence through his growing relationship with Sebastian Flyte at Oxford. He is swept away by the grandness of Sebastian’s home, Brideshead. What follows is a series of events that lead Charles into the closing, controlling grip of Brideshead itself, and the choices he makes or will not make, will haunt him forever. Yes, it’s that much fun. I was interested to know more about what WWII!Charles was up to. Surely that was not the point of the film!

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

WALL-E

Pixar (or should I say Disney Pixar) has long established itself as a superlative animation studio. Lately I’ve found their works to push the boundaries of not just the technology and art of animation but also in their unique story-telling. The narrative concepts are ambitious but intelligent, but Wall-E is somewhat different in the way there is little dialogue to ease the narrative along. The first half hour involves a lone robot, Wall-E (Waste Allocation Load Lifter Earth-class) processing endless bales of trash on a frightfully abandoned Earth, and coming “home” to a tip filled with trinkets discovered in trash. Wall-E is not entirely alone as he has a chirpy cockroach buddy who follows Wall-E around. The drama really comes with the arrival of a high-tech robot called EVE, sent to Earth on a mission for the Axiom, an enormous ship housing the Earth’s population for the duration of its clean-up.

Some may argue that this is of little relevance to a child, but come on, credit kids these days with a bit of intelligence here. Yes, it is a cautionery tale of the woes of waste and technology that screams Orwellian preachiness, but the universal elements of self-awareness, friendship and love are never far from the surface. As with all Pixar films the attention to detail is impeccable and meticulous; a true visual delight that warrants multiple viewings.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

Hellboy II: The Golden Army

I desperately want to watch this again after actually meeting Doug Jones (who played Abe Sapien in both Hellboy I and II, but voiced only the latter) last week. I enjoyed this a lot more than the first film, possibly because there is no exposition, or very little of it, at least. My favourite character out of the first film was indeed Abe Sapien, and I was delighted to see that his character had a plot going for him, including a love interest. Would be keen to see a third film in the works, but that does not seem likely, given that Guillermo del Toro’s got plenty on his plate right now (The Hobbit, anyone?).

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

Persepolis

A whirlwind narrative detailing the life of a young Iranian girl adapting to the political and social transformation of the world around her. All dialogue is in French, but the content is very much in the heart of Iranian culture and its deviations through the eyes of Marjane. Indeed I’m no expert on Iranian history or culture so I can only take on what’s being said at face value. Nevertheless, it’s a confronting exploration of the coming of age of a young woman—the opportunities that she’s been given, and the choices she’s made in coming to terms with her identity and herself. The animation is whimsical—the stills are almost exact replicas to that of the graphic novels, upon which the film is based—but simple with a loose flowing style. I loved it.

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Old Reviews:
The Dark Knight

Um, it seems pointless to review this now. But hey, it’s my declaration to the world, among countless others, that this is a film to be reckoned with. Yes, a FILM, not just a BLOCKBUSTER POPCORN MOVIE. It’s been loved, cherished, and crafted with a no-nonsense attitude, intelligent writing, unforgettable characters and stunning photography and direction. To me, it’s the ultimate superhero film. (Curiously it channels the darkness and narratives of such graphic novels as Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke and Jeph Loeb’s The Long Halloween and Dark Victory. So read up on those if you want more Dark Knight goodness) I thought Batman Begins couldn’t be more gritty or real in the sense that it could happen to any metropolis. I was delightfully corrected. Like its predecessor, there is nothing camp about it, nothing “comic-like” (just a guy in a bat costume, and a psychopath in make-up), just a real exploration and reflection of moral anarchy and if one looks deeper: the lost American Dream. It gave me a truly good kick of adrenaline, and I was pretty much on the edge of my seat for most of the ride. It is that good.  Heath Ledger was truly breathtaking in a way that we’ve never seen him before, and never will again. It’s one hell of an epitaph. But let’s not give the late actor all the credit for the film’s success; this film wouldn’t have been if not for the superlative performances from Christian Bale, Aaron Eckhart, Gary Oldman, Morgan Freeman and Michael Caine. This is after all the story of the Dark Knight, and all that he’s created, gained, lost and found. I’ve seen it 3 times in the cinema (including IMAX, which was just, WOW, really. WOW. Six sequences were shot with IMAX cameras—the highest quality resolution yet) and no doubt when the DVD is released on December 10, 2008, it’ll be looping non-stop on my player.

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

Kung Fu Panda

Apart from making me feel a tad hungry, as looking at good Chinese food always does to me, and apart from my occasional scoffs at the inevitable Americanisation of Chinese culture (well, this does star Jack Black; you’re going to have to expect a lot of “awesomeness” and on-the-spot word inventories that go beyond the usual KAPOW and HYYAAAH!) this feature film does hold my attention with its usual moral tale, and its homage to martial arts and wushu. Basically, a fat, lazy panda who idolises the Furious Five (legendary Chinese warriors) ends up becoming the greatest legend of them all: the Dragon Warrior. Of course, that won’t do, and the rest of the Furious Five set out to prove it. We all know what happens next, I think. It’s wonderfully animated, with a perfect toned palette of pastels and contrasts, and the jokes come fast and heavy like dumplings. The marriage between Hollywood blockbustery-ness and Chinese sensibilities is well done, and this is perfectly reflected through the score by Hans Zimmer and John Powell. It’s one of my faves this year. A lot of Chinese themed work popping up in Hollywood this year—no coincidence with the Beijing Olympics? Probably one of the better creations to come out of Dreamworks since the original Shrek.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

Speed Racer

Pooh, so people are complaining how this film lacks any plot, and if attempts to create one it’s done haphazardly and with a bombardment of colours and visual effects so as to hypnotise the viewer into conveniently forgetting about it. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride, so to speak. I was never that great a fan of the original Speed Racer series, probably because I was about 3 decades away from being born, but I’m pretty sure I watched quite a few episodes in my day as a kid, and who can forget the unforgettably catchy theme song? With the Wachowski brothers, you know you can expect some spectacular visual effects and stunts, and this film certainly doesn’t disappoint in that respect. In fact, it explodes with all colours of the spectrum like a sea of Willy Wonka gobstoppers in a game arcade. The wooden acting should be forgiven, given that most of the time the actors were performing in front of blank green screens. Don’t go watching this if you’re expecting a brain-teaser, this is for numb skulls only. ;]

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

The Band’s Visit

I saw this on one of Nova’s cheap Monday sessions. I’m glad I went ’cause that time I really needed a breather from the wangst that is university life. The Band’s Visit is a beautiful, wry and amusing story of an Egyptian band of musicians who, by mistake, bureaucracy, or miscommunication, end up stranded in a tiny, inconsequential town in Israel. There are plenty of awkward (but priceless) silences, loneliness in all its bittersweet and sad forms and budding relationships between people who are making the most out of their circumstances.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

Upcoming Highlights:
- Quantum of Solace
- Australia
- Twilight
- Defiance
- Valkyrie
- Changeling
- The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
- Ghosttown
- Dragonball
- The Soloist
- X-MEN Origins: Wolverine

Hehe, finally, I update with reviews! Just as The Dark Knight surpassed all expectations, so too has its music score—a remarkable creative achievement from the collaboration between two of Hollywood’s A-list composers, Hans Zimmer (Gladiator, The Last Samurai, The Da Vinci Code) and James Newton Howard (The Village, Blood Diamond, Signs). Where Batman Begins set the tone and atmosphere of Nolan’s universe, The Dark Knight is its moodier, madder and gutsy evolution. There are fourteen tracks on the official soundtrack, with a regular CD edition, a limited CD edition and an LP.