A Song to Remember

There is a trick about movies concerning great or even good composers. Few of them have lives that (outside of musicologists or curious people) are worth talking about. Also, as their music is the reason for their greatness, the music is going to dominate the film - any activity on screen is going to be less interesting (unless the composer's life is interesting) than what they created for their audiences and posterity.

Which composers have popped up on screen? Beethoven in several films (best, possibly, by Gary Oldman in 1994's IMMORTAL BELOVED). Chopin in the film about to be discussed here. His pal, Franz Liszt (Dirk Bogarde) in SONG WITHOUT END. Johann Brahms and Robert Schuman (Robert Walker Sr. and Paul Henried) in SONG OF LOVE. Wagner in the television series of that name (by Richard Burton), and Verdi in the television series of that name (by Ronald Pickup). Douglas Montgomery (MELODY LANE) and Don Ameche (SWANEE RIVER) both essayed Stephen Foster. Clifton Webb was John Philip Sousa in STARS AND STRIPES FOREVER. Walter Connelly was the title composer in THE GREAT VICTOR HERBERT. Jimmy Cagney (and Joel Grey) were George M. Cohan (in YANKEE DOODLE DANDY and GEORGE M.). Robert Alda was George Gershwin in RHAPSODY IN BLUE. Tom Drake and Mickey Rooney were Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart in WORDS AND MUSIC. Robert Morley and Maurice Evans were the title characters in THE STORY OF GILBERT AND SULLIVAN. Richard Chamberlain was Pyotr Ilytsch Tschaikowski in THE MUSIC LOVERS. Fernand Gravet was Johann Strauss Jr. in THE GREAT WALTZ.

But few of them were really exciting people. Webb's performance as Sousa was good, but the biographical material of the story was passably interesting (but no more - the music carried the film). Chamberlain's film was more interesting because of Tschaikowski's homosexuality. Cagney's breeziness and the theater background of the story of Cohan made that film a permanently popular one. Foster's tragic failure to succeed as our first professional composer (and his alcoholism) did give some grip to his biography, but sappy construction and writing hurt the Ameche film (especially that profoundly stupid conclusion).

Chopin was "blessed" in several ways biographically. He was a patriot, and part of the film is devoted to his support for the Poles fighting for their freedom from Russia. He did have a long time affair with George Sands, France's leading female novelist in the 19th Century. And he struggled with increasing ill health due to his tuberculosis. He only lived forty years, and oddly enough his birth and death dates almost correspond to his American contemporary Edgar Allan Poe, who was also plagued by ill health through much of his life.

Cornell Wilde had been playing supporting parts up to this film, such as the cowardly inside-man in the heist in HIGH SIERRA. It was here that he finally came into his own as an actor, even getting nominated for an Academy Award for his performance. Merle Oberon had an unusual role. Normally she was a supportive lover (her Cathy is ultimately deeply in love with Heathcliff, but proud and snobbish when she meets Edgar Linton in WUTHERING HEIGHTS - that was an exception for her). Here she is committed to her own literary success, and she does little to understand the musical success at the core of the man who adores her. There is a hint of nymphomania in her - a seeming hard incapacity to love that drives men wild (not only Chopin, but his predecessor in her bed Alfred de Musset the poet (George Macready)). In the end she is the villain in the film, breaking the spirit of her Polish lover, and dooming him to early death.

How true is this? Not totally. While two creative spirits like Chopin and Sand could clash they both were deeply attached to each other. In a television series on the career of Sand, starring Rosemary Harris, it turned out that a message from Chopin on his death bed was withheld from Sand by her jealous daughter - a fact she did not learn until many decades later.

Paul Muni gave a weak, over the top performance as Chopin's mentor Joseph Elsner in the film. He had done older men for years, and Elsner was a slightly comical one (look at his scene with Howard Freeman as a music publisher). But it is overdone, and one of the weaknesses of the movie. Still it is not too serious a weakness. On the whole it is a good film, for the two leads and some of the supporting cast. But it is not true history.

It must have taken courage to cast Cornel Wilde as the frail composer and Merle Oberon as George Sand, but in the Hollywood of 1940s all of the studios were busy churning out inaccurate biographies of musical greats. (Biggest miscasting was Cary Grant as Cole Porter in "Night and Day").

So, it was no surprise when Columbia cast Cornel Wilde, handsome, debonair and athletic, as the composer and proceeded to create a script that had little to do with Chopin's actual life. But they can be forgiven. Film buffs who love serious music will have no qualms with the superb piano work by Jose Iturbi. Wilde does an excellent job of fingering as though he is doing the actual playing--perhaps the reason he won an Oscar nomination.

Handsomely photographed in fine technicolor, it's certainly pleasing to look at and easy to listen to. The only major flaw is Paul Muni, whose acting style here is so grotesquely hammy it belongs to the silent period of film acting. He's given too much footage.

Movie buffs will certainly enjoy this one for the pleasure of seeing Cornel Wilde in his star-making role and Merle Oberon at the peak of her beauty. If it's accuracy you insist on, stay away. It takes all the artistic liberties imaginable--and then some!

"A Song to Remember" is one of many bios and biopics based on the lives and careers of great composers. It is a superficial and inaccurate account of Frederic Chopin, executed with rich production values, colorful performances, and fine piano renderings on the soundtrack.

What makes filmmakers constantly churn out these gross fabrications on composers? Probably because with all the emotional and dramatic power of their music, these creative artists surely must have lived very exciting lives.

In truth, the dramatic power and emotional expressiveness undoubtedly took place in their studios, where all the action and revelation raged within their heads, through their fingers, and onto score paper.

Theirs was a world of technical concentration, dedication and execution. It was about problems of form, balance, themes, voicings, instrumentation and the like -- in other words, matters concerning the elements of music.

Not much there in the way of dramatic subject material. Yet screenplay writers, producers and directors go on concocting characters that never existed, situations that never took place, and scenes that impose 'modern' views upon 'classic' events.

Thus we have Lizst ("Song Without End") Mozart ("Amadeus") Beethoven ("Immortal Beloved") Schumann and Brahms ("Song of Love") Kern ("Til the Clouds Roll By") Rodgers and Hart ("Words and Music") and countless others being given The Treatment. Is it truly a song without end?

In "A Song to Remember" we are required to suspend our historical knowledge and go with the flow of romantic melodrama, as the life and career of the Chopin is brazenly exploited for dramatic purposes. Thus we can thrill to the the pianism of Jose Iturbi, revel in the beauty and grace of Merle Oberon, enjoy the young and debonair Cornell Wilde, and devour the rococo posturings of Paul Muni. Were only life really as dramatically pat as this.

Legally filmmakers have no worries over such exploitation. The subjects and families are all conveniently deceased, and it's fair game without risk of lawsuits or infringment cases. Further, the music is, for the most part, in public domain, cancelling out copyright costs.

Therefore we simply place a mental inscription over the portal to these fanciful journeys: "Abandon Your Senses, All Ye Who Enter Here."

Knowing that this was Liberace's favorite film should give you an idea of what this film is like--in fact, his trademark candleabra on the piano was taken from one of the most memorable moments in the film.

This was a high profile production for Columbia in 1945, with lots of money thrown at the sets and costumes, and actually filming in color (remember, Columbia was still a second-rank studio during World War II--usually only spending major money on its Rita Hayworth films). Consequently, this biography of Chopin is beautiful to look at--but a bit overboard at the same time. It's certainly not minimalist!

As if competing with the lavishness of the design, the acting (particularly by Paul Muni) is waaaay over the top, and the storyline refashions Chopin's life into a very heavy melodrama. The dramatics are so ham-handed that the Harvard Lampoon in 1945 gave the film an award for the "ketchup on the keys" sequence. Possibly the most interesting aspect of the film (other than its campiness) is how this costume biography is inflected with aspects of 40s film noir. Merle Oberon as author George Sand is the film's femme fatale, potentially drawing Chopin down the wrong creative path. And, since the film was made while World War II was still being fought, the film has to make allusions to patriotic duty (especially since Chopin was Polish, and World War II officially broke out when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939).

So--you have tons of visual excess, some sumptious renditions of Chopin pieces, and a weird discussion of gender relations and wartime responsibilities. All in all, it's a wild piece of gorgeous junk.

Although this film, as many a musical bio before and after it, twists and breaks historical fact –-e.g. Professor Elsner (Paul Muni) portrayed as a father-figure in Chopin's life never went to Paris with his pupil nor was he rejected as the film implies— the story does manage to capture the spirit of the age. Cornel Wilde with his boyish good lucks is well cast as the tormented young Polish composer who died at thirty-nine, and there are two exceptionally strong performances: Merle Oberon has a wonderful moment or two with Muni as she displays a thoroughly convincing steely edge as Chopin's lover and surrogate mother; and the old maestro himself, Muni, is simply superb in the old-fashioned scenery-chewing manner of a great film star who knows exactly how to steal every scene he is in, and does. The film was directed by long-time Columbia Pictures staffer, the Hungarian-born Charles Vidor ("Gilda") who managed to surround himself with a number of other expatriates from the homeland --story by Ernst Marischka; Cornel Wilde as Chopin and Stephen Bekassy as Lizst; and lush musical arrangements by Miklos Rozsa and Eugene Zador. Vidor's professionalism here is greatly aided by the unusually tasteful, rarely garish Technicolor cinematography by Italian-born Tony Gaudio, famous for his gritty black-and-white photography at Warner Bros. Here Gaudio has a chance to show what wonders he could do with the more elegant settings the usually tight-fisted Harry Cohn constructed on the Gower Street lot.