Tom Mossbrucker, at left, memorable in the Joffrey’s production of Billy the Kid, choreography by Eugene Loring, was with the Joffrey organization from 1977 to 1998. He’s not seen in “Mavericks”; the interviewees include Christian Holder, Ann Marie deAngelo, the great Gary Chryst, Ashley Wheater (the company’s current artistic director), and Trinette Singleton, among other first-generation Joffrey dancers.

No mention in the docu about the Joffrey’s long association with the city of Los Angeles, what a pity. But to compensate, there is the presence of local arts & journalism guru, Sasha Anawalt, who is a key talking head in the film as the author of  the go-to book on Joffrey history.

Last summer, interviewing Mossbrucker along with his co-director of Aspen Santa Fe Ballet, Jean-Philippe Malaty, at Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival, I asked Mossbrucker to reflect on the influence of his former boss, Robert Joffrey, on his current career.

Joffrey: Mavericks of American Dance, screenings
World Premiere, Dance on Camera Festival, New York | Jan 27, 28
Nationwide viewing in movie theaters | Jan 28
Los Angeles screening | Colburn School of Music | Feb 1 | $20 ticket

_{tom mossbrucker potrait by herb migdoll,  courtesy new york public library collection}

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Until a monster dancer joins her on stage — Jack Cole.

Choreographers, pay attention @ 1:43. Ladies and gentlemen, that is the way to make an entrance — on your knees!

Do you notice that Cole never fully stands up? See how he hugs the ground? Modern dance roots.  Layer on that the jitterbug moves he learned from the best — by dancing with ladies like Marie Bryant at Harlem’s Savoy Ballroom.

You can see that Hayworth enjoys being partnered by him.

The men in the group are trained in Cole technique, the women not. That would come later.

Tonight and Every Night is a very fun, watchable movie, full of dance. The marvelous Marc Platt, the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo guy, has a speaking role in it, and he dances as well. 

What a coincidence, Jerry Robbins’s sailor ballet “Fancy Free,” which led to On the Town (1949) and made possible all kinds of Americanisms in classical ballet, dates from 1944. Who imitated whom? I personally think of Cole as a greater innovator than Robbins, who was known for borrowing.  But lacking conclusive evidence, let’s just say that both dances were conceived during the War, when sailors were in the zeitgeist.

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• Rita Hayworth’s gown by John Singer Sargent
• Jack Cole invites you to a ball
• Jerome Robbins, ballet drill sargent

The silken jazz dancer, Marie Bryant (1919-1978), seen here jiving with the great Harold Nicholas, was, for a time, rehearsal assistant to Jack Cole. That’s interesting. Cole’s performance group was all white. It wouldn’t be otherwise. But he clearly relied on Bryant for special tasks. Asked what she did for Jack Cole, Bryant replied,  “I teach Betty Grable to shake her buns.”

I have long wondered what transformed Grable from a schmaltzy-waltzer into the bootie-shaking hottie of “No Talent Joe.” I naturally credited Cole. Now I think differently. Enter Marie Bryant.

_{Thank you, Wandering & Pondering for posting on Marie Bryant.}

While delighting in Meryl Streep’s microscopic replication of Margaret Thatcher’s facial tics and bug-eyed pronouncements in “The Iron Lady,” do not neglect a prior film, “The Reagans,” which stars the great Aussie actress, Judy Davis.

“The Reagans,” a hugely fun, educational and entertaining docu-drama, dates from 2003. The massively ambitious undertaking, a made-for-television movie, traces RR’s career, starting in Hollywood, and marches through time and place with spot-on period mise-en-scene. The White House, Bel Air, and Palm Springs: all restaged with a fine eye by director Robert Allan Ackerman.

Who knew that a left-wing woman (that would be me) could feel so moved by the Ronnie-Nancy marriage? But the film is tremendously affecting; it advances with operatic energy and scope. Judy Davis, at its center, finds incandescence in a female character others would only find brittle. James Brolin, as the old man, also fantastic. I found “The Reagans” much more fun and satisfying than “The Iron Lady.” 

Next up for arts·meme: Judy Davis in Life with Judy Garland: Me and My Shadow (2001), also directed by Ackerman.

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• Meryl Streep dream project: Maggie Thatcher learns to cook lapin.

“The designer Jean Louis, supposedly inspired by John Singer Sargent‘s famous portrait of the décolleté Madame X, created for Miss Hayworth a fetishistic black satin strapless gown, with elbow-length gloves, and the dance director Jack Cole devised the strip-tease routine in which she flung those gloves to her audience.

The director, Vidor, expected the filming of “Put the Blame on Mame” would be difficult, but he was pleasantly surprised the moment Miss Hayworth appeared. “She sauntered on the stage holding her head high, in that magnificent way she does,” he said, “stepping long like a sleek young tiger cut, and the whistles that sounded who have shamed a canary’s convention. She enjoyed very second of it. Then she did that elaborate difficult ‘Mame’ number in two takes.”"

Blurb taken from: City of Nets, A Portrait of Hollywood in the 1940s, by Otto Friedrich

When Turner Classic Movies announced its first-ever “classic film cruise,” which took place early last December to the joy of 1,800 participants, combining a full program of movie mania with the pleasures of cruising — fresh air, glistening ocean, tropical cocktails — Graham Phillips, and his wife Laurel, married for 22 years, signed on.

He’s the former CEO of Ogilvy Mather, the multinational advertising firm, and she’s a trademark attorney representing screenwriters. The Phillipses share a lot in their lives. There are two homes (Santa Barbara, CA, and Vero Beach, FL), a 70-foot Brunswick yacht, various airplanes, and the occasional visit of a grandchild. But they also brandish a love of classic cinema, the high Hollywood product that cable network Turner Classic Movies has broadcast, without commercials, for the past 18 years.

About 1,800 fellow fans from diverse backgrounds joined the Phillipses for “TCM Classic Cruise,” which partied last weekend on a massive ocean liner, the Celebrity “Millenium.” (TCM invited this reporter to join them.) A smattering came from Canada, Puerto Rico, and the United Kingdom, but most attendees were from the U.S. Promoting the event on its own network, TCM sold out the cruise [tickets ranged from $795 to $2,495/person] in two and a half months. An encore edition [in Hollywoodese, "Son of TCM Classic Cruise"], still unannounced, may be in the offing.

The event embarked from Miami, breaking out a four-day line-up of cleverly curated movie screenings (“Moon Over Miami,” and “The Breaking Point,” a boat-oriented film noir, were the unusual openers). Then came more full-length features, documentaries (on Alfred Hitchcock, Cary Grant, others), and Q&A-driven movie-chatter. The ‘movie love boat’ then docked in tourist ports of Key West and Cozumel in Mexico. Nostalgia for classic Hollywood craft prevailed and bonded a huge gathering of otherwise total strangers.

TCM invited a passel of veteran actors as guests. Ernest Borgnine [yes, "The Poseidon Adventure"], still sturdy at 92, and two “Hitchcock Blondes,” Tippi Hedren ["The Birds", "Marnie"] and Eva Marie Saint ["North by Northwest"], both gorgeous, shared memories in interviews. There were silent movies [Harold Lloyd's "Speedy" with live accompaniment by Alloy Orchestra] and a Norman Jewison retrospective. The director, on board, showcased his swanky seventies “The Thomas Crown Affair,” along with two sweatier outings, “In the Heat of the Night,” and “The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming.”

Q&A sessions with TCM’s genial host, Robert Osborne, who’s just resurfaced after an extended vacation, proved most popular. Osborne, whose television image crosses Cronkite with Kangaroo [that's Walter and Captain], nattered in his genuine manner about his early Hollywood days as an actor and columnist. Osborne’s personal elegance and total recall of factoids fostered great, high-end gossip.The TCM “community” is a phenomenon. Dennis Adamovich, the Turner exec who worked with cruise operator Sixthman and Celebrity Cruises to plan the venture, explains: “We have one of the most passionate core audiences that want to talk to each other. Our fans told us, ‘You have to create a place for us to be physically, and not just virtually.’ “

Cruising represents TCM’s second experiment staging “real-time” events. The highly regarded TCM Film Festival, launching its third edition this coming April 2012, has established itself as an annual tradition on L.A.’s Hollywood Boulevard.

The Phillipses hosted a mid-cruise dinner party at one of the ship’s specialty restaurants. Over a good bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, the table mulled the meaning of the movie, “Casablanca.” For film buffs, this is an important conversation, nearly religious. Like red wine, the Warner Bros. 1942 potboiler about Europe’s political refugees seems to only improve with age.

“It’s a movie about making a hard choice. Even if it means taking the higher path,” asserted Graham, commanding with his opinion as only a CEO can. “We’ve all had that moment in our lives,” he added.

Karen, in her late-50s, carted film critic Aljean Harmetz’s “The Making of Casablanca” to the table, even reading snippets to the group. Readily admitting she’s watched the tale of Rick and Ilsa’s broken romance umpteen times, she noted: “Being my age, I haven’t had a chance to see it [Casablanca] in a theater setting. So it’s delicious to be here,” she said.

The following day, munching salads on a patio deck as the sea churned below, a group of German expatriates also gabbed about movies. Munich-born Eva, said: “I loved seeing ‘Casablanca’ on a big screen,” then added, “And it was sexy watching “An Affair to Remember” projected outdoors by the pool.”

Her friend, Angela, also German-born but now living in Miami, piped in, a tad defensively, “It’s not only because of the movies. I just like cruises.”

Tom, husband to Angela, and a dignified 66 [think Cary Grant], concurred, “We are very frequent cruisers. But this is a nice, different way of cruising. Frankly, I’d much rather watch a nice movie at the end of a day than those silly Las Vegas shows.”

Lunching nearby, but indoors, was Rita, 68, a New York City resident who winters in Florida. She was sharing a cabin with a woman friend, Dolores, 70-ish. In an earthy Brooklyn accent, the pale-skinned, raven-haired Rita proudly announced that her team had just won the morning’s movie trivia contest. “This cruise is my cup of tea,” she said. “I just love the old movies.”

The diversity of attendees’ ages and ethnicity, thought-provoking programming, and uplifting atmosphere stemming from TCM’s constant chorus of audience appreciation created a charming adventure and a huge home run for the Atlanta-based firm. Charlie Tabesh, TCM’s senior vice president of programming for the past 14 years, said, “Look, film making has changed. There’s an appreciation for classic film — the stories, dialogue and characters.

“Many in our audience respond to the sense of community. Some of them feel like outsiders. What differentiates TCM is the passion of our audience. They like to come to a place where they can share their passion.”

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• TCM Cruise rolled merrily along … 
• Find Tippi Hedren in the photo!
• A Chat with Robert Osborne
• Preparing letters of transit for TCM Cruise

With “Pina,” German cinema legend Wim Wenders joins the recent ranks, which include American documentarian Frederick Wiseman (“La Danse”), the Briton Mike Figgis (“The Co(te)lette Film”), and indie guy Darren Aronofsky (“Black Swan”), in crafting rapturous, high-tech paeans to the art form. Wenders’s current wonder is shot with 3-D technology and there’s a lot of excitement over the cinematographic skill employed.

On the surface, “Pina”’s vast and generous showcase of Bausch’s Tanztheater ensemble seems to serve dance well. Beyond beautifully photographed, it’s sumptuous and cannot be more visually engaging.

The best parts, the brilliant bits, of “Pina,” may emanate not from the choreographer but from the filmmaker. Wenders removes Bausch’s work from the theater, and places it in the startlingly tidy German countryside (everything in this film is immaculate). A dancer frolics in the grass, toying with her colorful chiffon skirt. A duet transpires on a stunning glass-walled outdoor platform. Back in the city, the man and woman twirl at street level, beneath an elevated commuter rail track. Also gripping are the sequences shot in the mills and factories of Wuppertal, the central German town where the dance company is based. A male dancer, flopped onto the platform of what looks like a steel mill, moves his limbs like a broken puppet. Industrial supply cars glide silently behind him. What a vision. There’s an extremely wry sequence — gee the whole thing is so severe you dare not laugh out loud — clowning in a tram car. This material is amazing to watch, memorable, transcendental. Bravo, Wim Wenders. [review continues below photo]

[[Show as slideshow]]

Bausch is admittedly not my favorite dance maker. What on earth is she trying to say? Even if I got part of it, it would be acceptable. I see that she’s gathered a colorful tribe, and employs a theatrical, plastic visage to make it all human. But I don’t recognize the people. The look doesn’t help me — unkempt hair, loose breasts, grandma sack-style dresses, lingerie-slips, ball gowns worn by bohemians. The male contingent is even weirder, in retro suits with bare feet. The staring, hanging, clinging, clawing, dropping and, above all, the suffering – to what end? It’s strikes me as very sad. The old-tyme music distracts, excuse me but I don’t care to reminisce on Germany in the 1930s. I fail to meld as an audience member with this artist, perhaps my inadequacy.

The studio and theater scenes, delivered in bits and pieces, are grounded in Bausch’s signature work, the unbearably opaque “Cafe Muller,” which has not aged well. Dancers sliding down walls, overturning chairs, the purposeful ugliness feels irrelevant.

So what’s at the heart of this movie? Not a documentary, it provides no artistic context. The film assumes Pina Bausch matters – a lot. I was waiting to hear from the grizzled German dance critic, a chain-smoking “Sprockets” guy, who’s devoted a lot of time thinking deeply about Bausch’s art. But he’s not in the picture. Instead, the precious explanatory moments are allocated to sound bites by infatuated dancers, e.g., “Pina told me ‘be more crazy’ …” Touching because the grief-stricken dancers memorialize Bausch so soon after her death, nonetheless, these commentaries are not of real use to civilians.

Does “Pina” deepen our connection to a mystery-plagued art form? That’s what I care about. Dance needs fewer Martians and more Earthlings; less obfuscation, more clarity. We need humane, direct communication with audiences. At the screening I attended, the response was muted. I wondered how many new dance friends “Pina” had made.  

_{Photos: ©Neue Road Movies GmbH, photos by Donata Wenders. A Sundance Selects release. Apologies to the photographer.}

Like this? Read more:

• Prepare for “Pina”:  Watch Sprockets.

The film, “Pina,” opening in L.A. on 13 October, is marketed as a documentary. But aren’t ya ‘spozed to learn stuff from a documentary?

Part of the film’s rigor is that it refuses to give the neophyte dance fan any background information about Pina Bausch whatsoever. Instead, we are treated to the mysterious droppings that arrive via talking heads, devoted members of Bausch”s dance company. For example:  “Pina used to say, ‘Be more crazy,’ ” or, “Pina used to say, ‘Surprise me.’ ”

Curious about German Expressionism? Mary Wigman? Kurt Jooss? Bugger off, just go study wikipedia before you see the movie!

arts·meme to the rescue! We provide herewith artistic orientation for “Pina.”

It’s easy. Watch Sprockets.

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• Between “Pina” and a hard place: review of the Wim Wenders film

The world is one-one-one-two today. That is 1/1/12!
Happy birthday world.

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• 0ne-one-one-one

We first watched a reenactment of an historical movie moment. An American actress, Michelle Williams, portrays a prior thespian, Marilyn Monroe, in her struggle to collaborate with Sir Laurence Olivier in the filming of “The Prince & the Showgirl.”

Kenneth Branagh plays Sir Larry in the bio-pic, and he nails his character so much better than Ms. Williams. So it all comes ’round; the Brit actor trumps Yank actor — nothing has changed whatsoever in 55 years!

From my studied perspective, “My Week with Marilyn” falls short, in its opening moments, in its meager attempt to replicate Jack Cole’s idiosyncratic choreography for Monroe. It gets Marilyn Monroe, singer/dancer, dead wrong, totally wrong, every step is wrong. Very sorry to report this~!

That brings us to the mother of all female impersonators, er … fine actors, Meryl Streep, whose visage fills the frames of “The Iron Lady,” a replication, down to facial tics, of the former British prime minister Margaret Thatcher — undoubtedly fodder for Oscar©.

arts·meme has learned that in the sequel, now in development, the Iron Lady takes cooking lessons. Her instructor?  The Iron-Skillet Lady, Julia Child! That means Meryl Streep on screen in ever single solitary frame of the movie! We keenly await this ne plus ultra of bio-pics! Meryl and Meryl, on split screen. Negotiations under way for top billing …

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• Julia Child and my father