Edward Scissorhands

[Klavier]

A review of “Edward Scissorhands” by Robert Gottlieb in The New York Observer.

Edward Scissorhands is effective in no way.

Just came home from BAM. Unfortunately Gottlieb was right. What a waste of $80. I hope nobody else here was subjected to this charade. Maybe I'll speak about it in more detail tomorrow. But it's a pretty sad commentary on a ballet when the only thing you can praise are the sets.

[richard53dog]

A review of “Edward Scissorhands” by Robert Gottlieb in The New York Observer.

Edward Scissorhands is effective in no way.

Just came home from BAM. Unfortunately Gottlieb was right. What a waste of $80. I hope nobody else here was subjected to this charade. Maybe I'll speak about it in more detail tomorrow. But it's a pretty sad commentary on a ballet when the only thing you can praise are the sets.

Oooh , it does sound like a clunker. Sorry, Klavier.

I had thought of going but (it seems fortunately) forgot about it.

[bart]

I appreciated the following comment from Gottlieb, especially since it's an area we've often discussed here:

“So it’s not Concerto Barocco,” says The Times, defensively. But who said that it should be? It only needs to be good at what it sets out to do. “Matthew Bourne’s latest creation may not impress dance purists, but he makes no apologies for his popular success,” says The Times. In other words, Bourne is democratic, a true populist, while we “dance purists” are elitists or, even worse, snobs. It’s the same argument that Peter Martins’ defenders trot out to deflect the criticisms of the “Balanchine purists.” What it adds up to is that you’re a purist if you insist on standards. But, ladies and gentlemen, “popular success” doesn’t necessarily imply “lowest common denominator.”

Klavier, I'm looking foreward to reading your own idea of the best (or worst) of the "clunks".

In the meantime, here's Lisa Rinehart's different take on the performance in

DanceViewTimes

Some have dismissed this "Edward Scissorhands" as little more than another commercial success for Bourne, but that view is based on a preconceived idea of what this show should be. Go with an open mind, (preferably with some children under the age of 16), and you may be surprised how enjoyable it is to see fantastically well done narrative dance. It's not subtle, and it isn't brimming with intense sub text, but there's an appealing honesty in the extremes. This is Bourne's Edward, and despite some shortcomings, he's easy to love.

[Klavier]

Klavier, I'm looking foreward to reading your own idea of the best (or worst) of the "clunks".

I suppose I asked for this. Enough of the basic facts of the piece can be found in the reviews cited, as well as Jennifer Dunning's review in the Times. The primary question a production like this raises in my mind is, how much of the original plot of an adapted dance work can an audience reasonably be expected to know? A narrative dance obviously has no dialogue, so unless the story is made clear through the dancing and action, or the audience already knows the story, they could remain in the dark. Perhaps the same complaint could be made of an adaptation like Balanchine's Midsummer Night's Dream, but one can reasonably assume the incidents in a well-known Shakespeare play are familiar to many educated viewers. The same cannot be assumed of Edward Scissorshands. I saw the movie once, but remember little besides the fact that there's a boy with scissors for hands. Duh.

Mr. Bourne's E.S. seems to assume intimate familiarity with the movie, which perhaps most of the audience besides me had and therefore enjoyed the ballet far more than I. Example: As Dunning says in the Times, near the start of the ballet, "a dowdily dressed old woman slowly hobbles by, leaning on her cane." But who is this old crone? does she have anything to do with the story, is she just out for a stroll, or is she a theatergoer who can't find her seat and, not wanting to step over the others in her row, has wandered on stage? I have no idea because for almost two hours she is completely absent, but near the end of the "drama," the same old crone hobbles over the stage again, this time holding up a pair of scissors. This must mean something, but what it is I have no idea.

Near the start of the piece, there is apparently another Edward, who is buried in the local cemetery because we see his funeral, which of course takes place in the rain, and then a projection across the stage tells us the main action is starting Many Year Later. Who this Edward is, what relation he has to the main Edward, goes by so fast that it is of course left unexplained.

Time frame is confusing. The action apparently starts around Halloween, as a figure dressed in a pumpkin suit is seen running back and forth in front of a scrim (scrims are used a lot here, to make the action more mysterious -- as if that was needed). And when the suburban town (in a brilliant stage set) is first shown, there is a family apparently called Upton headed by a father who is apparently running for mayor. (Is Upton of any importance to the action? I don't think so, but he's running for mayor. Why not.) The main crisis in Act Two occurs around Christmas time, when Edward accidentally cuts the face of a boy from the town and incurs the wrath of the entire populace, except the girl he loves, Kim. But in between Election Day and Xmas there is a scene that seems to take place in summer, as we see kids in shorts and swimsuits. Did they have an unseasonably warm November with temperatures in the 80s, did the action take place over more than one year, or did they just stick July in between Thanksgiving and Christmas? Who cares, so long as it lets Bourne put together the first of several incredibly boring, long, uninventive scenes with American kids jitterbugging.

The main plot, what there is of it, seems to be that Edward, after having been invented by an inventor who didn't get the hands right, happens on a suburban town, is taken in by a local family, becomes a town favorite who prunes everybody's shrubs and becomes the local barber (giving horrendous haircuts), and then becomes anathematized because (as previously stated) he cuts a boy on the face. Why the town, having taken Edward in, should so suddenly turn on him because of what is obviously an accident, is left unex., etc. As is everything else in this silly piece.

Not only are main points of the action like this left unex., but other incidents are developed superfluously. By the end of the first act, Edward is still a town favorite. The opening of the second has another not very funny scene where Edward, a real cutup, becomes the town barber. But all this does is continue the same theme as before, i.e., that Edward can do neat things with his "hands." It does nothing to advance the action or develop the characters. The next scene, which for Dunning is "one of the stage production's funniest and most provocative scenes," struck me both as superfluous (because Edward has already fallen in love with the obligatory pretty young thing, Kim), unfunny, and even tasteless, concluding as it does with the neighborhood nympho apparently having an orgasm on the top of her washing machine. Whoopee. At least that didn't need explaining.

I suppose this all could be more tolerable if the dancing were more interesting, or the music not so forgettable. But the action relies heavily on mime, the large ensemble dance scenes seem interminable, and only the two pas-de-deux between Edward and Kim touched me in any way. If any one else has seen this turkey and feels I'm cutting it to shreds too much, by all means respond. But despite the short (2 hour with intermission) playing time, I found most of this production alternately incomprehensible and boring.

[aurora]

Example: As Dunning says in the Times, near the start of the ballet, "a dowdily dressed old woman slowly hobbles by, leaning on her cane." But who is this old crone? does she have anything to do with the story, is she just out for a stroll, or is she a theatergoer who can't find her seat and, not wanting to step over the others in her row, has wandered on stage? I have no idea because for almost two hours she is completely absent, but near the end of the "drama," the same old crone hobbles over the stage again, this time holding up a pair of scissors. This must mean something, but what it is I have no idea.

She's kim many years later.

I suppose I am fairly familiar with the film (though I can't think I've watched it for 5 years at least), but whatever the flaws of the choreography (it wasn't terribly innovative I didn't think, nor particularly challenging on the whole), I didn't find the story hard to follow. Its certainly more logical than say Le Corsaire. ;)

Furthermore, some of the plot devices (earlier edward, then edward scissorhands) weren't in the movie and I didn't find them difficult to follow.

Was it great? no. But I actually found it surprisingly enjoyable, albeit more as a "theater piece" than as a "ballet".

Then again I like both the story and the music, and anything is better than watching Winona Ryder with blonde hair

[Klavier]

Example: As Dunning says in the Times, near the start of the ballet, "a dowdily dressed old woman slowly hobbles by, leaning on her cane." But who is this old crone? does she have anything to do with the story, is she just out for a stroll, or is she a theatergoer who can't find her seat and, not wanting to step over the others in her row, has wandered on stage? I have no idea because for almost two hours she is completely absent, but near the end of the "drama," the same old crone hobbles over the stage again, this time holding up a pair of scissors. This must mean something, but what it is I have no idea.

She's kim many years later.

Then why does she appear at the beginning, years before the main action supposedly starts? And what is the point of the earlier Edward? Would anything have been lost if there were no "earlier Edward," or is he simply superfluous?

[aurora]

Then why does she appear at the beginning, years before the main action supposedly starts? And what is the point of the earlier Edward? Would anything have been lost if there were no "earlier Edward," or is he simply superfluous?

Well that's why she's accompanied by text--she's retelling the entire story. I don't remember precisely what the text said (sorry) but the implication was that it was a retelling, like a fairy tale--"once long ago lived..." etc/

As for the earlier edward. I believe that was a misguided attempt to explain WHY Edward has scissors for hands. I think in the movie, there is no real explanation except that he isnt finished (he dies when he is finishing hands for edward). But why on earth would you give someone temporary hands made of scissors?

So in order to give some psychological explanation (you know, like in the *shudder* live action version of the grinch), the earlier edward loved scissors and died playing with them so his father creates a new edward with scissors for hands.

So no, really nothing would have been lost if they hadnt added that

[Klavier]

Well that's why she's accompanied by text--she's retelling the entire story. I don't remember precisely what the text said (sorry) but the implication was that it was a retelling, like a fairy tale--"once long ago lived..." etc/

Some of this may have been more obvious to me had I seen the movie, or seen the ballet twice, or read a synopsis (which the program failed to supply). I didn't realize she was retelling anything. She just hobbled around the stage, left, and was forgotten for two hours. But if these things are so important, were they made sufficiently clear by the director/choreographer within the unmediated experience of the ballet? They weren't to me.

[bart]

I was just catching up on old New Yorkers and came upon an article by Joan Acocella, "Swan's Way: Why Matthew Bourne's Dances are Different" (Marach 12, 2007, issue). It was published prior to the BAM opening. Here's a sample:

Reviewers often say that Bourne is not, primarily, a choreographer but a movement-theatre man. That is true; pure dance is his weak suit. In "Edward," the unforgettable numbers are the group dances for the townspeople, where what is paramount is not structure but character, with each person doing the dance in his own idiosyncratic way. It's like a Bosch painting, an orchestration of detail ... By contrast, the culminating pas de deux for Edward and Kim seems short on material. Still, it is compelling: a portrait of two people trying to dance together, not easily, since Edward has no hands. The awkwardness comes off as a symbol of love's difficult, and when you add to that the naturalistic look of Bourne's lead women -- their flat shoes, their open thighs, the fact that they don't mind if you see their underpants -- the effect is touching. It may not be the exalted story of love's progress that you see in a classical-ballet pas de deux, but is a human story: "I'm just a person, a thing of flesh and underpants. Love me anyway."

According to Acocella,

Bourne is the most audience conscious artist I have eaver spoken to, or the one most willing to admit to that concern. In his view, he owes it to his audience to make his stories completely understandable -- "logical," as he puts it.

[dirac]

Matthew Bourne considered, by Brian Seibert in Slate.

http://www.slate.com/id/2163505

These universals, as much as the gorgeous theatrical effects and stage magic he offers, are the core of his populist project, his appeal to an audience normally intimidated by dance. He makes a dance performance seem like something that the dance-phobic have seen before. An entire evening without spoken word or song can appear, in his hands, not all that different from a play or a musical—or a TV show or a movie. Unabashedly audience-conscious, Bourne is quite candid about what he's doing: giving a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down.

Critics hear this and wince. Dance for us is sweet enough on its own. Watching the medicine itself—Bourne's derivative dances—we yawn. We too have seen it all before, and a lot more of it.