Filmed Theater

[nycmagus]

Lumet took on the directing job out of friendship with Shaffer (though I think the friendship was ruined over the end result).

The current revival on Braodway is interesting in that John Napier recreates the original set with the result that EQUUS regains its sense as a ritual playing out the timeless conflict between rationality and passion -- Dionysus versus Apollo. The problem is that the reductive nature of this dichotomy is even more apparent than it was back in 1975 so there is a stale air that hovers above the intense theatricality.

Lumet's realistic approach (and I think he is actually much more stylized in this film than in many of his movies) has as its main drawback making this dichotomy more obvious than it is on stage. Sitting in the theatre, it is possible to get caught up in the dramatic ritual and only afterwards be hit by the shallowness of the false binary Shaffer has constructed (he never seems to imagine that there is a third alternative -- passionate rationality. Maybe it stems from his being a twin).

But once it hits you, you become so aware that it is never far from the edge of your consciousness and no amount of theatrical razzle dazzle can subsume it. Dysart can both cure Alan and leave him with his passion intact 9and maybe even regain his own along the way).

[HarryLong]

he never seems to imagine that there is a third alternative -- passionate rationality

Well, at any rate Dysart doesn't realize it.
And I'm not sure I even buy the concept of passionate rationality ... it seems too much like controlled chaos or somewhat pregnant.
And bear in mind I find the play quite profound (but I'm basing that on the production I see in my head as I haven't seen it on Broadway). So I'm probably shallow, too.

[cinemartin]

As far as purely filmed theater, I think Dionysus in '69 is a wonderful example of that.

[nycmagus]

Harry, you are not shallow at all. EQUUS is a play I have lived and struggled with for a long time. It contradictions and avoidances fascinate and annoy me.

I agree that Dysart doesn't realize it, and in this he was a tragic figure in the play rather than just a deluded one in the original production: what he didn't get was that ecstatic passion (not rationality) leads to truth. This is a simplification I object to in the work. Passion may lead to one form of truth, but not the only one or even the best one. And Shaffer is coy about why Dysart cannot get there, but the most obvious path (see below) also undercuts the religious aspects of the play.

It is interesting to watch Richard Griffiths play Dysart now and veer away from the tragic and humanize him: his performance saves the character of Dysart, but ends up throwing the structure and logic of the play severely off kilter since the drama is no longer Dysart's (or Alan's) passion play: there is no need for Dysart to account for Equus as symbol of divine insight through ecstatic passion (Shaffer even admits in a new program note that he gets the practice of psychotherapy wrong in the play). But stripped of tragic aspirations, the scenes between Alan and Dysart feel unbalanced when juxtaposed to the ritualized stagecraft regarding Equus and Alan with horses In the new production, the play is presented as less about God and more about sex which works, but there was still too much devotion to the old interpretation.

Dysart's line: "A doctor can only destroy passion. He cannot create it" becomes in Griffiths' hands a sad, small acknowledgement of defeat and blindness rather a admission of tragic realization. While the change helps to prevent what Alan has gone through coming across as a handy psychodrama ready made for Dysart's delectation, it also means that Dysart was lost to begin with and we have been watching a clinical presentation of a man at sea (which Griffiths performs wonderfully).

Alan is then transformed into a confused kid who does not need to be cured of passion, but have his passion better understood (the homoerotic element comes across more strongly here than in the original production just as it did in Lumet's film). The blinding of the horses is now motivated by Alan being gay and having his god Equus seeing that he cannot get it up for a girl. But (and here is where Shaffer has written himself into a corner), this makes Dysart's line about passion turn (unintentionally) homophobic since the only possible solution he sees is destroying Alan's passion which is the source of his pain. Griffiths rescues the moment somewhat by playing Dysart as closeted, but the the horse scenes need to become much more sexualized for the downplaying of the tragic to completely work. Maybe in some future production, the a director will go further and yet another EQUUS will emerge.

[HarryLong]

EQUUS is a play I have lived and struggled with for a long time. It contradictions and avoidances fascinate and annoy me.

And we're approaching it from very different perspectives, too. As an actor I had to find a way past any contradictions. Since I've always found contradictions in a character fascinating (no one in life is without them), I just played 'em. As a result, I couldn't now tell you what the contradictions are in the show.

Passion may lead to one form of truth, but not the only one or even the best one. And Shaffer is coy about why Dysart cannot get there

For me, he's burnt out & can't summon the energy. He's been doing the same "rescue" jobs on teenagers for years, probably in a state-funded facility (which in itself probably proscribes how creative his therapy can be) & just inches short of not even being able to hang on until retirement. His marriage is passionless (probably as much his fault as hers). [I understand it's not often played this way, but so many of his comments about his wife have a "Take my wife ... please" stand-up rhythm to them that I played them that way ... as though he's trying to laugh off the problems of his marriage.] Dysart is already fascinated by the more naive, "purer" ancient religions (a romantic view) and so finds himself drawn to Alan as he probes more deeply and finds that the root of Alan's behavior is in an invented religion. (Weirdly I never even considered that Dysart might be closeted & that his interest in Alan might partly be sexual - but as I'm gay, no doubt some of that came through in my performance). Since such things have been on his mind, it stimulates him (professionally) as no other case has in some time. Dysart's religion used to be psychiatry but he's souring on that; this is juxtaposed with Alan's religion - since it's self-inventged it's as pure as a religion can possible be.
(This may or may not be philosophically shallow, but just how deep can a 2-hour play go?)

Shaffer even admits in a new program note that he gets the practice of psychotherapy wrong in the play

Intriguingly, the first time I played Dysart, another member of the cast was a psychiatrist in his day job. I consulted him on the hypnotism scene. He didn't seem to find any problems with the way his profession is portrayed...

In the new production, the play is presented as less about God and more about sex which works

I don't think I'd have liked the new production. To me the play is entirely about religion, faith & worship (not necessarily the same things at all). The psychiatry & the sex are McGuffins.

The blinding of the horses is now motivated by Alan being gay and having his god Equus seeing that he cannot get it up for a girl.

Maybe it's simplistic, but it seems to me that the problem is that Alan can get it up for Equus & can't for Jill because Equus is there, looking on. Never struck me that Alan is gay. Bestially inclined, maybe ... At any rate sex has become part of a religious celebration & can't be separated from it for the mere slaking of lust. He can no more have an erection for Jill than a Catholic would use a holy wafer to sate hunger pangs.

[knives]

I'm not entirely certain that this isn't already a topic, but I couldn't find anything via the search bar. Anyways I figure we should have a thread about this topic and I don't mean mean film adaptations, but rather just versions of a stage performance that was filmed. I came up with this thread from talking with a friend and realizing I had never actually seen Die Fledermaus and turning to amazon, there are a lot of versions available and I'm sure some of them must be terribly done.

[Ann Harding]

If you want to enjoy Die Fledermaus, just get hold of the Carlos Kleiber version on DVD. It's the traditional staging by Otto Schenk and recorded during the New Year's Eve performance. Kleiber was a magician.

[MichaelB]

Here's Gramophone's review - the only one I could find of a Fledermaus DVD (as opposed to CD, where they've covered loads), but they seem to like it.

[poder]

Dear Knives,
I too would enjoy a separate topic for FILMED STAGE PERFORMANCES. I grab up everyone I can find ... particularly musicals (KISS ME, KATE; COMPANY; PASSION; etc). Unfortunately, none of the shows that PBS has broadcast (LIGHT IN THE PIAZZA, CRAZY FOR YOU, etc.) have been released on either VHS or DVD. I recently contacted them, and they replied that they only had the rights for one showing, so if you didn't record them, you're outta luck. I'm now transferring my old snow-speckled Beta recordings of such shows as MORNING'S AT SEVEN and SHOWBOAT to DVD. Does anyone have a complete list of Live Performance releases? (I also own a LOT o operas recorded live, but that's another kettle of fish...)

[ando]

This is a great post with some great films mentioned.

So, do we rejoice that many plays reach a wider audience through film, or do we lament how seldom they are able to achieve the power of a live performance?

Neither. Watching a film and attending a live performance are different experiences. Live theater makes demands of the audience that film does not and vice-versa. After all, not only are you considering content but the manner in which the content is delivered. For instance, in live theater, if an actor fails to deliver an emotional impression it effects his fellow actors, the audience, the implications created by the playwright and the whole tenor of the experience. In really terrible productions (with savvy audiences) there is often an amusing alternate level of interaction between performance and audience reception where the audience actually derives pleasure from amatuer theatrics. Bad performances in a film are almost totally isolated and can be nearly obliterated through editing, framing, voiceover or other post production work. Obviously, if the entire film is a lemon the audience will simply walk out. But it's harder to walk out of a bad live performance or a bad play because the experience is so much more - and sometimes more intriguing - than simply what is happening on the stage. Why lament that a film doesn't capture the power of a live performance? It never can!

On the other hand, the theatergoing audience of the late 50s, early 60s has long since vanished, which may partly explain why we don't see as many play adaptations: people aren't familiar with them. When people were more aware of new plays (or even the great classics - when people read classics) it was an avenue for filmmakers to bring audiences to the cinema. But I'm not so sure that a play adaptation has the reverse effect. How many people, for instance, ventured to see (or plan to go and see) a live performance of Doubt because they saw the film? The content is obviously the same (John Patrick Shanley
wrote both the screenplay & stage play) but by the time a play becomes a film it's a different animal. There are production values, star attractions and any number of film industry components that can (as someone pointed out) detract from the poignancy of the original material that sits directly in your face at a live performance.

It reminds me of the demands that The Boys In The Band playwright, Mart Crowley, made in the late 60s with his film adaptation. He insisted on the casting of the actors in the stage play that had been running in L.A. for the previous three seasons. He even asked that the play's original director be included which he was advised against for reasons elucidated above. Though he wanted to keep the chemistry of the actors and power of their performances he had to acknowledge the very different nature of film, which film director, William Friedkin (in his first feature), physically reblocked and restructured. The genius of Friedkin's work is that he was able to enlarge the physical scope of the play without losing the emotional intensity of the material. It's a groundbreaking work and an exception, granted; who in mainstream America would have seen this otherwise? But it's a film watershed. I doubt if it (or any adaptation) actually contributes to an appreciaion of the play itself.

One adaptation I've been meaning to see (thanks to this thread for the reminder) is Stephen Frears' Dangerous Liaisons, a stage play I've never seen. But the attractions of Glenn Close (in particular), John Malkovich, Michelle Pfeiffer, Swoosie Kurtz, and Keanu Reeves are a greater incentive, regrettably, to watch the film than to watch unfamiliar actors in a live performance.

[MichaelB]

One adaptation I've been meaning to see (thanks to this thread for the reminder) is Stephen Frears' Dangerous Liaisons, a stage play I've never seen. But the attractions of Glenn Close (in particular), John Malkovich, Michelle Pfeiffer, Swoosie Kurtz, and Keanu Reeves are a greater incentive, regrettably, to watch the film than to watch unfamiliar actors in a live performance.

Ironically, had the film been cast only a year or two later, Alan Rickman would undoubtedly have been offered the John Malkovich role, since he originated it on stage to what was apparently sensational effect. But this was before Die Hard, so he was to all intents and purposes completely unknown in the US.

Conversely, Nigel Hawthorne almost certainly would have been replaced in the title role of The Madness of King George for the same reason... but Alan Bennett cannily made his casting a contractual condition when he sold the film rights.

[PillowRock]

I'm not so sure that a play adaptation has the reverse effect. How many people, for instance, ventured to see (or plan to go and see) a live performance of Doubt because they saw the film?

I think that it is something that goes on a case by case basis. Plus, of course, it depends first on the availability of a live production to go see. I know there were people who more likely to go see a local / regional productions of Chicago after the movie came out (and won Oscars).

[colinr0380]

Why lament that a film doesn't capture the power of a live performance? It never can!

But on the other hand the power of film is providing a somewhat detached, fixed interpretation of material that can be compared with other adaptations of the same material, which contrasts beautifully against the great power of theatrical performances being its immediacy and ephemerality (which is presumably also the key to understanding many of those Cassavetes films in that box set - that Cassavetes is trying to combine that immediacy and spontinaity into the medium of film).

One adaptation I've been meaning to see (thanks to this thread for the reminder) is Stephen Frears' Dangerous Liaisons, a stage play I've never seen. But the attractions of Glenn Close (in particular), John Malkovich, Michelle Pfeiffer, Swoosie Kurtz, and Keanu Reeves are a greater incentive, regrettably, to watch the film than to watch unfamiliar actors in a live performance.

A case in point: don't forget that there is also Valmont, the Milos Forman film from around almost exactly the same time as the Frears adaptation, plus the South Korean interpretation with Untold Scandal, not to mention the French mini-series updating the subject to the 1960s.

I'm assuming that you are already aware of Cruel Intentions (winner of best kiss at the 2000 MTV Movie Awards!)

[ando]

I'm not so sure that a play adaptation has the reverse effect. How many people, for instance, ventured to see (or plan to go and see) a live performance of Doubt because they saw the film?

I think that it is something that goes on a case by case basis. Plus, of course, it depends first on the availability of a live production to go see. I know there were people who more likely to go see a local / regional productions of Chicago after the movie came out (and won Oscars).

Perhaps. But it's a bit queer. After all, Oscars, supposedly, are given for excellence in film art.
Is that supposed to be a guarantee of the quality of a regional theater production? (I'm just trying to understand the rationale - if there is one.)

Why lament that a film doesn't capture the power of a live performance? It never can!

But on the other hand the power of film is providing a somewhat detached, fixed interpretation of material that can be compared with other adaptations of the same material, which contrasts beautifully against the great power of theatrical performances being its immediacy and ephemerality (which is presumably also the key to understanding many of those Cassavetes films in that box set - that Cassavetes is trying to combine that immediacy and spontinaity into the medium of film).

Well, with what would you contrast Cassavetes' filmed performances? If, as you state, the beauty of contrast (which, let's acknowledge here, does not deny the power or effectiveness of either medium considered alone) derives from a consideration of "the same material" in different adaptations how else would we consider his films having no other versions with which to consider them, especially if it's a key? In other words, what does that presumption involve? Some imagined live performance?

Part of the thrill I get from Cassavetes' performances (whether its his own acting or a featured actor) is the seemingly unpolished delivery and surprise that comes from the contrast to the formulaic presentations in traditional film acting. His actors appear to take rather circuitous routes to their emotional objectives, which gives the impression of spontaneity but might very well be entirely scripted! Perhaps this is partly what you meant by presuming contrast in understanding or, at least, appreciating his approach to filmmaking.

[colinr0380]

But on the other hand the power of film is providing a somewhat detached, fixed interpretation of material that can be compared with other adaptations of the same material, which contrasts beautifully against the great power of theatrical performances being its immediacy and ephemerality (which is presumably also the key to understanding many of those Cassavetes films in that box set - that Cassavetes is trying to combine that immediacy and spontinaity into the medium of film).

Well, with what would you contrast Cassavetes' filmed performances? If, as you state, the beauty of contrast (which, let's acknowledge here, does not deny the power or effectiveness of either medium considered alone) derives from a consideration of "the same material" in different adaptations how else would we consider his films having no other versions with which to consider them, especially if it's a key? In other words, what does that presumption involve? Some imagined live performance?

This is really two different points and I apologise if I was not clear in separating them:

The first is about the use of 'theatricality' in Cassavetes films. Most of the Cassavetes films (at least in the Criterion set) involve either theatrical performances (most obviously Opening Night but also the cabaret scenes in Killing of a Chinese Bookie) that set up rather theatrical experiences, but ones in which in this highly artificial, almost narratively incoherent atmosphere leads to a greater emotional truth, as in the final performance in Opening Night where Rowland's character actively destroys the narrative of the play in order to have a moment of human contact with her fellow actor.

This is also present in some of the 'performances' in Faces between the married couple or the repetitive sing song between Rowlands and her group of drunken partygoers (even in the harrowing overnight breakdown in Woman Under The Influence) - it all feels theatrical in the sense that the actors know that they are playing a role and are projecting themselves towards their audience in the form of the other characters in the scene. These kind of scenes are what I meant as the key to Cassavetes films in the way he is trying to feed in the spontinaeity from a theatrical performance into cinema.

Yet I'm not certain whether scenes being improvised or scripted is the point here (I think you are more correct when talking about contrasting against 'formulaic representations' in film) more that the sense of energy in the playing is different, more keyed towards the levels of a live performance since the films often feature characters who feel as if they are playing off each other a lot more, and need the presence and energy of another to work with, or against, in the major scenes in Cassavete's films).

So I think it is not just about contrasing different remakes of the same material against each other (although I suppose comparing the Cassavetes and Lumet versions of Gloria would be instructive and interesting in its own way as contrasting different productions of the same play would be), but in Cassavetes you can see different 'fixed image' films that deal with similar material, which can also be contrasted against each other in the way that they are using the idea of performance.

[ando]

Oh, alright, I didn't realize you were referring to the idea of performance in a film. But you're certainly on to something when you state that Cassavetes is trying to combine that immediacy and spontaneity into the medium of film. Actually, I think he makes several approaches to this end - from extended improvised scenes to choices (and times) of location shots. The choice of locale may be scripted beforehand, for instance, but the choice often seems "off-the-cuff", deriving from a spontaneous exchange between characters or a similar impromptu situation. I'm not sure exactly how he manages this impression but not many directors are able to pull it off convincingly. Locations almost seem to appear by accident! If you compare a Cassavetes film (or one strongly influenced by him like, Elaine May's Mikey & Nicky) and a Scorsese New York "street" film, for instance, Scorsese's choice of locale never seems haphazard or impromptu. Locations, in fact, are crucial in a typical Scorsese film. Cassavetes' locations, on the other hand, feel almost like props supporting far more interesting foreground activity.

[PillowRock]

I'm not so sure that a play adaptation has the reverse effect. How many people, for instance, ventured to see (or plan to go and see) a live performance of Doubt because they saw the film?

I think that it is something that goes on a case by case basis. Plus, of course, it depends first on the availability of a live production to go see. I know there were people who more likely to go see a local / regional productions of Chicago after the movie came out (and won Oscars).

Perhaps. But it's a bit queer. After all, Oscars, supposedly, are given for excellence in film art.
Is that supposed to be a guarantee of the quality of a regional theater production? (I'm just trying to understand the rationale - if there is one.)

Some of it was simply the basic marketing truism of increased name recognition. Chicago, a quarter century removed from original Tony broadcast exposure, wasn't really a "household name" show in the years leading up to the movie. At least it wasn't with people outside of cities with significant theater districts and who weren't especially followers of musical theater. The title was just more likely to jump out at people from a local newspaper ad (or whatever) after the movie hit. The movie also was the first introduction to the songs for a fair number of people.

The other thing that was more specific to Chicago was that amongst the Oscar buzz stories there was quite a bit of play given to the idea that the show had been hard to to adapt to the screen and had required some re-engineering of how the story was told. So for people who hadn't ever seen the show before, there was something of a curiosity factor created about how the show was really put together.

[ando]

Indeed. I'm just not sure if the occasional Hollywood adaptation contributes to an interest in the theater, in general, or in plays (new or old), specifically. Someone living outside of the significant theater districts may be exposed to an adaptation but what is the significance if it doesn't lead to an increased interest in either other adaptations or live performance?

Beckett On Film gets better the more I watch the individual films in the box set. Samuel Beckett purists loathe the very idea of a filmed performance of his plays but I think there are sparks of genius in some of the films in the set.

Here's Beckett's Play, directed by Anthony Minghella

Imo, what's great about Play is its lack of reference to live performance - it plays up its complete artificiality. Incessant cutting, intermittent dissolves, focusing, blurring, camera sound effects, recorded bird calls (hilarious), etc., all of it thumbing a nose at the sanctity of an inspired, spontaneous live performance (and in the same respect, an inspired, spontaneous love triangle). It also makes fun of our tabloid obsessed culture - zeroing in on he most lurid aspects of the private lives of well known personalities. Beckett's material is often making fun of the banal repetitiveness of modern life. Minghella exhausts this point with his short.

[knives]

I wouldn't really call any of the Beckett on film stuff filmed theater, but adaptations, though it seems the thread is using those terms interchangeably so shrug. Anyway what you're describing (that's one of the few in the set I haven't seen) sounds more like what a Brecht adaptation would need than Beckett who used dialogue in such a way that it would be difficult in any adaptation to capture what he wants without completely restructuring the play (in that sense Gerry is a better adaptation of Waiting for Godot than what's found in this set) and to counter act the heightened influence of cinema you would need to keep the camera still and distant (now I'm thinking of The Brown Bunny).

I do think that most of the adaptations are good as films even if they almost universally stink as adaptations (I do think Rough for Theater I got it right to give a example).

[PillowRock]

I'm just not sure if the occasional Hollywood adaptation contributes to an interest in the theater, in general, or in plays (new or old), specifically.

Completely unscientific personal impression:

Most of the time, I think that movie adaptations only directly create an interest in the specific play (or at most a specific artist).

However, once the person gets into the theater for that specific play, the live theater itself then has a chance (that it wouldn't have had otherwise) to get the person hooked on theater more generally.

[ando]

I wouldn't really call any of the Beckett on film stuff filmed theater, but adaptations, though it seems the thread is using those terms interchangeably so shrug.

Agreed. I wouldn't call it that, either. But, as you point out, the thread is running in the direction of adaptation. In truth, does the term filmed theater mean anything more than taped performance?

I recently re-watched Volker Schlöndorff's television adaptation of Arthur Miller's Death of A Salesman, staring (among others) Dustin Hoffman and John Malkovich. Though is no live audience Schlöndorff goes beyond the "fourth wall" to expose the viewer to the structure of the sets. It's a most bizarre effect. I'm not sure if the move is intended to distance the viewer from the ensuing drama as a whole or provide commentary on the ephemeral nature of familial ties (it does undermine any notion of the solidity of the Loman household). At any rate, it would probably qualify as a good example of what one might call filmed theater.

... to counter act the heightened influence of cinema you would need to keep the camera still and distant (now I'm thinking of The Brown Bunny).

Perhaps this is what Schlöndorff was going for in Death of A Salesman. But why would you want to counteract the heightened influence of cinema? To my mind, if it's being filmed it's already too late! If only by default you've begun to create a cinematic experience.

I do think that most of the adaptations are good as films even if they almost universally stink as adaptations (I do think Rough for Theater I got it right to give a example).

Total agreement. Rough For Theater 1 is my favorite of the box set.

Most of the time, I think that movie adaptations only directly create an interest in the specific play (or at most a specific artist).

However, once the person gets into the theater for that specific play, the live theater itself then has a chance (that it wouldn't have had otherwise) to get the person hooked on theater more generally.

Agreed. And at that point it's up to the dramaturg and creative director to entice subscription buyers (a process beset with its own demands and limitations). Films, however, are seldom the catalyst for getting most theatergoers in seats. Can you imagine if that were the case? The industry would be completely different from what is is now.

[PillowRock]

Films, however, are seldom the catalyst for getting most theatergoers in seats.

I absolutely agree with that (with the "seldom" allowing for a rare exception; maybe a Rocky Horror Show regional production or something). Every little bit helps, though.

[ando]

Indeed. I suppose many people (myself included) would actually miss out on wonderful works by playwrights whose works are seldom re-staged otherwise. I would never have seen Mario Van Peebles' Don't Play Us Cheap (1973), now of Netflix, for instance, if it wasn't filmed. The post-production "special effects" are a bit irritating and the film stock is poor but the performances are spirited and entertaining. I wonder if Van Peebles, who wrote the book and score, felt he needed to supplement the filmed performance with filmic elements to keep the viewer interested. Lloyd Richard did something similar in his film treatment of August Wilson's The Piano Lesson. Near the end of both plays/films there is a ritualistic scenario where demons are cast from the respective homes. The manner in which both directors handle the scenes is, I must say it, embarrassingly crude. Now these are top tier stage directors in my book (I've seen very powerful live productions by both) but I really do think, for the most part, that a talented film director is needed for a successful adaptation or filmed theater performance. Not to take anything away from Van Peebles' Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song (it was made a couple of years earlier than Don't Play Us Cheap) but it hardly seems as if he's mastered the elements of film technique with the latter film. Perhaps the cheap effects are tongue-in-cheek and deliberately amateurish or perhaps he simply used what resources he could afford (though it seems to me he could have accomplished more with much less). Nonetheless, I'm grateful to be able to see some of what I missed during that period of revolutionary Black theater.

The same could be said for Joseph A. Walker's The River Niger (which received a Tony for best play in 1974) or James Balwin's The Amen Corner, though I've yet to get my own copy of the latter. Both are far more straightforward treatments of the material, but then, the two aforementioned plays are fairly unusual in nature.

I'm revisiting Christopher Morahan's 1970 BBC television production of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya staring Anthony Hopkins and Feddy Jones. It's a modest, subtle (and all the more powerful) version of the play set (seemingly) on a single manor. I've seen other versions of the play but this is my favorite. It moves with a measured pace, almost solemnity and intimacy of a chamber piece. As such it succeeds as a film, not merely a record of a filmed performance.

I wonder why there are so many more televised filmed plays than feature film plays. Production costs are almost certainly a main factor. But when I'm looking to watch a finely performed play they're inevitably found among televised filmed performances. Feature film adaptations, again, seem to be such a hybrid that unless the original creators are involved the play becomes merely the touchstone for a very different experience.

Stevie (which is soon to expire on Netflix), starring Glenda Jackson in a film adaptation of the play based on the life of poet Stevie Smith, is an interesting example if what I might call a filmed play. The fourth wall is absent altogether (are there any walls in cinema?). Jackson and (Smith's older friend) Trevor Howard address the audience directly, which might have been startlingly refreshing in a live performance of the material. But here it seems odd, almost sinister. Howard's appearances are in locales that are completely divorced from the quaint household routines that Smith and her old aunt are engaged. Where in a staged performance the contrast of the three players might seem dynamic and inspired, Howard, speaking from a bridge over the Thames or a frozen Hyde park, comes off as a creepy interloper. His scenes seem to come from another film altogether. When he does enter the literal world of Smith the contrast of actors is genuinely dynamic and compelling, which leads me to believe that the play must have been a far more powerful experience. Perhaps directors place undue emphasis on references to the stage play when making adaptations or perhaps play adaptations simply don't draw especially talented filmmakers who'd rather not have to contend with the collected memory of a live performance. I'm not sure. But so many are such clunky affairs that they certainly beg such questions.