Candles in the Wind
The Best…
…Movie I Watched This Week
The Misfits (1961) — Directed by John Huston
Streaming on Amazon Prime Video with subscription; available for rent on other platforms
“I think you’re the saddest girl I ever met.”
— Gaylord Langland (Clark Gable) to Roslyn Taber (Marilyn Monroe), The Misfits
I came to The Misfits in a roundabout way.
I was reading a new memoir by Bernie Taupin, the celebrated lyricist for so many of Elton John’s songs, and I was surprised by one particular anecdote.
Taupin wrote the lyrics to “Candle in the Wind” in 1973, and Elton John released the song a year later. Everyone who knows anything about the song understands that it’s a tribute to Marilyn Monroe. But in his book, Taupin writes that the original inspiration for the song was actually the actor Montgomery Clift, another talented Hollywood star who lived a tragic life.
Taupin writes that he initially wrote the song after seeing the 1961 movie The Misfits, which starred both Monroe and Clift alongside Clark Gable. But he wondered whether people in 1973 would still know who Clift was. So for commercial reasons, he decided to make Monroe the centerpiece of the story.
“Even though I didn’t care for Marilyn Monroe, people would think her a much more fragile character and more indicative of the ‘candle in the wind,’” Taupin said in a recent interview. “So I am glad I went with her.”
That anecdote brought me to The Misfits, which I had never seen before. More than six decades on, the film is more of a mythological Hollywood artifact than a piece of entertainment. I’m not even going to bother trying to explain the plot. I think you’re either in it for the mythology or you’re out altogether.
Tragedy surrounds the film. Just days after shooting concluded, Gable died at age 59 of a heart attack. Monroe’s marriage to the writer Arthur Miller ended in the ensuing weeks, and she would die the following year of an overdose at age 36. Clift lasted just a few more years, drinking himself to an early death at 45.
Seeing performances from these three iconic stars so close to the unexpected ends of their lives is one reason to watch the movie (I particularly enjoyed seeing middle-aged Gable doing Gable things). Another reason is that legendary filmmaker John Huston directed the picture.
But what I found most interesting is the unseen hand of Arthur Miller. He wrote the screenplay as a dramatic vehicle for Monroe, and he was rewriting dialogue throughout the production, while she was in and out of the hospital for addiction to alcohol and prescription drugs, and as their relationship was collapsing.
The character of Roslyn is not a shiny, Doris Day-type role. Nor is she the ditzy blonde so associated with Monroe’s previous characters. She’s a lonely woman with a dark past and an uncertain future, not unlike the actress was at that time.
Miller writes Roslyn as childlike, deeply empathetic, depressed, and defined as an object of male desire. The script both elevates and patronizes her in a manner that’s hard to watch in 2023. All of the male characters fall in love with her and see a path to their own redemption by saving her. But do any of them actually see her? One gets the feeling that Miller — and perhaps most men — probably treated Monroe this way.
Monroe is said to have hated the film and her performance, unhappy with Miller’s script and Huston’s direction. It seems possible that the character had too much of Monroe’s true darkness at a time when simply living with herself was an overwhelming burden. Or as Taupin writes in the lyrics to “Candle in the Wind”:
Loneliness was tough
The toughest role you ever played
Hollywood created a superstar
And pain was the price you paid
The Misfits offers a glimpse into that loneliness and pain. At times, it can be a difficult watch. But it’s also a rewarding one if you’re interested in trying to understand one of the most enduring screen legends of the 20th century.
(If you want to go down the same rabbit hole I did, you can also watch Making the Misfits, a 2002 PBS documentary. Also, I think I could write 10,000 words just on this other trailer. I find it completely bonkers for a variety of reasons.)
…Midlife Crisis Movie & Series I Watched This Week
Another Round (2020) — Directed by Thomas Vinterberg
Streaming on Hulu with subscription; available for rent on other platforms
Our Flag Means Death (2022-23) — Created by David Jenkins
Streaming on Max
I may be the only person to draw a parallel between the 2020 Danish film Another Round and Our Flag Means Death, a recent comedy series about 18th century pirates, but here goes.
The protagonist of Another Round, played by Mads Mikkelsen, is a high school history teacher, sleepwalking through middle age. He’s disenchanted with his job, and he’s largely ignored by his wife and two kids at home. He’s both boring and bored.
The protagonist of Our Flag Means Death, played by Rhys Darby (best known as Murray from Flight of the Conchords), is a gentleman from a wealthy English family, sleepwalking through middle age. He’s disenchanted with his job, and he’s largely ignored by his wife and two kids at home. He’s both boring and bored.
Martin (Mikkelsen) and Stede Bonnet (Darby) are going through mid-life crises, and they need serious interventions to feel alive again. For both of them, that means pursuing the excitement of new adventures.
Martin, along with three of his fellow teachers, decide to spice up their lives by testing the theory of Norwegian philosopher Finn Skårderud — that humans are born with a blood alcohol content deficiency of 0.05%. and that having a BAC of 0.05% makes a person more creative and at ease.
In other words, the four buddies decide to booze it up every morning before school, thinking it will make them more effective teachers and more interesting people. So begins Martin’s adventure, which lands somewhere between a cautionary tale and a total celebration of Danish binge drinking culture.
Stede’s version is more active — he takes on a life of piracy. Loosely based on a real-life character, he builds a ship, becomes its captain, abandons his family, and gives himself a new moniker: the Gentleman Pirate. He also takes on the catchphrase, “Instead of killing with weapons, he kills with… kindness!”
What begins as an absurdist and silly romp on the high seas turns into something deeper and more poignant, particularly via Stede’s relationship with the infamous pirate Blackbeard (played by Taika Waititi). I’m only through the first season, but I’m looking forward to seeing how the story unfolds in Season 2.
Tonally, these two works couldn’t be more different. One is mostly serious, the other mostly ridiculous. But in experiencing them within a few days of each other, I saw Martin and Stede as kindred spirits, a pair of lonely, sad, middle-aged men, who are still optimistic that a spark may yet rekindle their lives.
…Live Music Clip I Watched This Week
“C Jam Blues” — The Oscar Peterson Trio, 1964
The other day, I came across a documentary on Hulu called Oscar Peterson: Black + White about the iconic jazz pianist. I read a biography on him when I was a teenager, but I couldn’t remember much of it other than that he was from Canada (Montreal, to be specific).
So I hit play on the doc, hoping to be reacquainted with his life and work. But I only lasted about 30 minutes. The film is so crammed with talking heads telling us how great Peterson was, I couldn’t concentrate on his story or the music. Out of frustration, I went to YouTube, and in the above video from a 1964 performance in Denmark, I found some relief.
After my complaints about the documentary, I would be a hypocrite if I now expounded on the genius of Oscar Peterson and told you the meaning of jazz. I’ll mostly refrain here, but I’ll also ask you to please indulge me for just a moment.
What I think is so remarkable about this video is it shows the ability of the greatest jazz musicians to take an incredibly simple tune and turn it into something complex and exhilarating.
In this case, the tune is Duke Ellington’s “C Jam Blues,” a 12-bar blues in the key of C major, music’s most basic key. The melody consists of exactly two notes, C and G. That’s it. The most elementary jazz student can play “C Jam Blues” with no problem. (I speak from experience on this.)
What that jazz student can’t do, though, is improvise a brilliant solo for more than two minutes before even getting to the melody as Peterson does here. And then he adds another six minutes of soloing afterwards, dexterously moving all over the keyboard with his right hand while occasionally mopping his brow with a handkerchief in his left — a total baller move.
Peterson’s performance is so fast and full, his fingers sometimes make the sound of four hands on the piano. That virtuosity, along with a dash of playfulness, is on full display here.
I also love the way Peterson hums along with his solo, as if he’s having a conversation with the piano, not just playing it. And I appreciate how tight and clean the rhythm section is (Ray Brown on bass and Ed Thigpen on drums). I’m a little sad they didn’t get their own chances to solo, but if their smiles are any indication, they didn’t mind at all.