New York’s Review of Culture • CityArtsNYC.comEdited by Armond White

Movie BulletinTéchiné’s unforgeTTably greaT ‘unforgivable’

By Armond White

Cherubina, the nickname giv-en to Judith (Carole Bouquet) in Unforgivable, comes from the love trickster in Mozart’s

opera The Marriage of Figaro. Judith, a former model with a bisexual past, now sells real estate, brokering a villa in Venice to the macho novelist Francis (André Dussollier), and they become lovers. Their emotional tension and physical passion prove the complexity of human character, evoking the aria “Non so piu cosa son” (“I don’t know anymore what I am”).

This mystery, echoed in the tumul-tuous relations of Judith and Francis’ friends and children, is André Téchiné’s specialty. The turbulent, elegant, mul-tilayered Unforgivable ranks with his greatest films. Few other movies define family relations with such intercon-nected depth and spiritual exuberance.

Casual moviegoers may be per-plexed at Téchiné’s speed (especially if they don’t pick up on the rhythm of his intricate character interactions) as he collapses time and affinities and misunderstandings, all in life’s onward rush. Téchiné knows the mistakes that people make define their lives, and Unforgivable (starting with Judith and Francis’ meet-ugly) zeroes in on the errors that take a lifetime to understand and, possibly, rectify.

Julien Hirsch’s video imagery focuses on people in motion—literally, through the streets of Venice or cruising its waters—to visualize their emotional states. “I need to be unsettled” says Alice (Melanie Thierry), Francis’ beauti-ful, insecure actress daughter. Her immature confusion parallels what in Judith is now tough but unique, nervy, tense—Téchiné’s usual Deneuve arche-type seen freshly. “I no longer desire or inspire.” Judith laments.

The extraordinary balance of these unsettled lives (lovers, parents, children) refreshes a French movie tradition. Unforgivable suggests an invigorated version of Renoir’s Rules of the Game, which was also based on Beaumarchais (the original author of The Marriage of Figaro) but filtered through—delivered from—contempo-rary cynicism. Among its Venice specta-cle is a quizzical shot of the Rendentore church that, after Téchiné’s marvelous AIDS drama The Witnesses, testifies to life’s fertile potential after the plague.

By Gregory Solman

New Yorkers with long memories can’t shake the specter of the TV commercials for the original runs of A Chorus Line and Evita—the

same commercial execution, using identi-cal snippets of song for maximum numbing effect, running for what felt like years. The Evita spot became so famously infuriating a fixture it occasioned one of SCTV’s most inspired commercial parodies: Andrea Martin starring in a road show of Indira and—ingeniously intermixing infomercial annoyance—Joe Flaherty as a bandoliered, yodeling Slim Whitman.

Marketing the performing and museum arts today seems like science fiction in comparison. You might be up late watching a WNET symphonic performance when an on-screen icon prompts you to hold up your Shazam-enabled smart phone. The app will sample the sound from the TV, identify the performance and give you the option of downloading the MP3 or ask you a ques-tion to win a coupon for a matinee in your neighborhood, having already correlated the cable or satellite box with your ZIP code

and assiduously segmented demographic information on your probable age, gen-der, income, past buying habits and even whether you prefer cats or dogs. Why? Well, maybe dog lovers like Wagner and cat lovers Stravinsky. Who knows? They’ve got their reasons.

Most importantly, the phone will be connected to the sponsoring organization’s seating chart, allowing you to pick a seat for a performance, charge your preloaded credit card and download an electronic ticket you can present at the concert hall by flashing your smart phone at a scanner.

If that interactive/invasive process seems more like something for you than your remote-control-challenged mother, you’re not far off. In fact, the growing generational divide between patrons of the arts and their media consumption habits was the blue-haired elephant queued up

for tickets in the living room at the Arts Reach conference at New York University last March. Put bluntly: Can you reach the graying and balding with tweeting and social networking?

Exceptions notwithstanding, there’s no mistaking certain demographic trends. Big-ticket performing arts companies—the symphony orchestras, the chamber music societies, the Broadway belt that needs tourists to shell out $86.28 for the worst seats in the mezzanine—count on a privi-leged sector of the baby-boom generation and older.

Trends indicate that those might be the last generations who take a daily newspa-per. Newspapers’ Internet-edition paywalls are, for most publications that have tried them, useless for converting paid subscrib-

Art Adverts Start a New WaveadverTising sTraTegies gearing up for nexT season Take arT ouT The wilderness. CityArts surveys The new media TacTicians who bring broadway shows, museums and oTher arT venues To popular aTTenTion. arT and iTs paTrons all benefiT from millennial arT adverTising’s new TacTical sTraTegies. Part 1 of a two-Part series.

Raven-Symoné in Sister Act gets a new ad campaign.

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ers and generating revenue. Yet, printing is prohibitively expensive and readership is sliding in favor of eyeballs online, where banner ads aren’t making enough money, despite the audience.

Facebook boasts hundreds of millions of users, obsessively checking in several times a day—that’s reach and frequency. But the company’s IPO revealed that although half of Facebookies use mobile devices to access the site, they are devices for which there is no Facebook advertising model…yet.

More than 44 percent of Americans have smart phones, but they skew young. The elderly have gone from the poorest group in America to the wealthiest, with the dispos-able (literally, some critics would argue) income to pay $262 to watch a play. But arts companies need to refresh their audi-ence with Gens X and Y and millennials to survive as something more than museums of tourism.

“While the traditional media audience has moved on, the rates have increased,” objects Doug Mobray, president of Mogo Arts Marketing in Corte Madera, Calif., pointing to a counterintuitive direction of newspaper ad rates and readers. “The cost per impression has increased substantially.”

The decline of print readership, exagger-ated by the generational split between baby boomers and older and nearly newspaper-

free youth, is the “first and most obvious change,” says Tom Greenwald, executive creative director at SpotCo, one of New York’s specialized arts marketing agencies.

“It used to be a foregone conclusion that the lion’s share of a media budget would go to The New York Times,” he says. “Now you might advertise there just to please the stars and agents, but the campaign is going to be mostly online banner ads and social networking.”

Greenwald says a lot of live entertainment still targets the 55-year-old woman; though she might not be constantly on Facebook, she’s probably online somewhere, and sites such as broadway.com can gear their initia-tives toward that demographic. She may not be tweeting or playing Facebook games, but she will find some online point of purchase.

Greenwald says more than half of Broad-way ticket sales happen in online transac-tions rather than phone sales. “It’s gotten to the point where they don’t even put phone numbers in the ads,” he points out.

Now Greenwald oversees Facebook campaigns that celebrate the 20,000 fans of Chicago with ticket giveaways. Samuel L. Jackson tweets to Twitter followers about The Mountaintop. A “nun” from Sister Act performs a video blog. Most shows, Green-wald says, use a combination of “social net-working presence and refreshing websites. The great thing about the Internet is that it is an extension of the show. In the tradition of those Evita TV ads, you can run video

content with sound.” He “roadblocks” (commands all of the

display ad space) select sites. Banner ads can be programmed with Flash and HTML to sport animation and sound. Live clips can be constructed from B-roll of the shows themselves, but they can be cinematic and even conceptual. Advertising on TV is now supplemented by so-called earned me-dia—working the morning news shows least likely to be DVRed. “It’s expensive to buy TV,” Greenwald says, “but everyone works it.”

Soliciting the South Park generation for The Book of Mormon means a website with a working doorbell and online campaigns imploring fans to “Like us on Facebook” and “Follow us on Twitter.”

It’s not as if Spotco abjures traditional outdoor advertising or print, but “spending $110,000 on The New York Times won’t pay off,” Greenwald declares.

Clint White, president of New York’s WiT Media and lecturer at Sotheby’s Institute of Art, acknowledges the arts audience is “growing older, absolutely. But the good news is that those patrons are converted and believe in chamber music—or theatre or causes or art—and all have made it clear that they’re interested. All we have to do is tell them what’s going on and they’ll sign up. It’s the other [younger] audience that has to be introduced.”

Next week: Broadway comes alive through new media.

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Unforgivable embarrasses the child-ish solipsism that currently passes for adult storytelling in recent American movies. It takes cues from life and Téchiné’s cinephile past, using Adriana Asti as Judith’s former lover to make a subtextual homage to Bertolucci’s Before the Revolution, because Téchiné insists our artistic and moral heritage still matters. Téchiné also evokes Last Tango in Paris in the film’s blood-rich sensual-ity, which includes a shocking act of vengeance so politically astute that our film culture would benefit by discussing it for the rest of the decade.

Continued from previous page

Carole Bouquet as Judith.

ClassiCal CiTYaRTs

Wieldy Axa wonderful mozarT piano concerTo aT The philharmonic By Jay Nordlinger

i once heard Emanuel Ax, the pianist, give a great performance. Google has recalled the specifics: It was in August 2005 at the Mostly Mozart Festival. Ax

played Mozart’s Concerto No. 22 in E flat, K. 482. I have now heard Ax give another great performance. It was of the same concerto.

This second performance was on a Wednesday night in the same hall: Avery Fisher. The conductor and orchestra were different, however. They were Alan Gilbert and the New York Philharmonic. Ax’s phras-ing was exemplary. He breathed along with the composer. He was both smooth and articulate. He was sensitive without being mousy. What rubato he used was intel-ligent. He fudged a trill or two, particularly at their resolution, but this was of little importance.

Crucially, he was not afraid to play simply. “‘Tis the gift to be simple.” And you may

remember a Rubinstein quip: “Mozart is too easy for children and too hard for adults.”

For the second movement, An-dante, Ax chose a perfect tempo. Tempos in these “slow” move-ments of Mozart’s are hard to get right. He sang this movement with an inevitable and natural feeling. The Rondo was jaunty and stylish. It was humorous in spots without being hammy. The cadenza that Ax has composed for this movement is fitting and clever; I thought I heard horn calls.

Above all, Ax played the Rondo, and all of the concerto, with pleasure. It is a privilege to play Mozart. I believe Ax knows this. As the audience applauded, the man behind me said to his wife—loudly and twice—“Good ol’ Manny Ax.” He was more than “good ol’ Manny Ax” on this occasion: He was a great Mozartean.

Gilbert and the orchestra did their roles ably. There was a botched entrance in the horns near the opening, which was unfortu-nate. Some of the exposition had a clock-

punching feeling. But, on the whole, the orchestra was alert, correct and compact. The beginning of the Andante was positively beautiful.

The main work on this program was one of the main works of Mozart’s life, and of music at large: the “Great” Mass in C minor. The orchestra was again alert, correct and compact (and so were the New

York Choral Artists). Gilbert was never less than competent. He was completely assured and thor-oughly prepared. In my judgment, however, this performance was barren of spirituality. It was also, I’m afraid, a bore.

But I must say it was nice to hear the Mass performed with some richness, beauty and blood. In recent years, I have heard noth-ing but “period” performances, particularly at the Salzburg Festival. They are thin gruel, with some straw sticking out. They also feature mindlessly fast tempos. At the Philharmonic, it was a relief to hear “Laudamus te” at a sane, musical pace.

The evening’s soprano was Jen-nifer Zetlan, who was starry when she was a student at Juilliard. In the Mass, she began a little uncertainly and had no low notes. But she soon

gained her stride and was wonderful. The other singers were adequate, with the tenor, Paul Appleby, sounding like a Polenzani in the making. The bass in Mozart’s Mass has even less work to do than the mezzo-sopra-no in Beethoven’s Ninth.

A famous mezzo once told me she had a piece of advice for other mezzos engaged for the Ninth: “Wear a pretty dress.”

Emanuel Ax.

CiTYaRTs MuseuMs

Spiritual Currencychinese riches shorTchanged aT The meT

By Kate Prengel

The Metropolitan Museum sees itself as a teaching museum, which may be why its curators are trying to cram the entire history of

Chinese printmaking into one exhibit: The Printed Image in China: 8th-21st Centu-ries. Ninth-century Buddhas, 16th-century peonies and 20th-century peasants are all lined up in the back rooms of The Met’s Asian wing for your edification. The trouble is that printing is a repetitive medium; a show of this many prints can be a hard slog, even with some beautiful pieces to liven it up.

The Chinese invented woodblock printing. And in China, printing very quickly took on religious implica-tions—Buddhism teaches that reproducing sacred texts is a way to receive blessings, so printing became a way to receive blessings while spread-ing the state religion.

The exhibit starts with a room of seventh-, eighth- and ninth-century prints of the Buddha with short texts. There are a few standouts, like the luxuriously painted “Banner with Bodhisattva.” But after a while, most of the prints start to take on the sameness of dollar bills—they’re spiritual currency.

The show moves on to the Ming period (1368-1644), where prints of leaves and flowers are executed with mili-tary precision. The period saw a big growth in literacy and wealth; at the same time, color printing took off. The exhibit includes many examples from the Ten Bamboo Shoots Collec-tion of Calligraphy and Painting, a manual for artists full of lichen-covered stones and vines.

Color printing flourished into the Qing dynasty (1644-1912), whose Manchu rulers gave away prints to their guests to show off their power. The Qing period verges on the garish; loud pinks and greens, overflowing fruit plates and flower baskets all scream money.

The warmest pieces in this show are the so-called popular prints, which ordinary

people bought to hang in their homes. Most are “door guardians” from the late 19th cen-tury, round-cheeked generals and kitchen gods with open, cartoonish faces. There are a few moving, expressionistic wood-cuts from the revolutionary period, too. And the show does include some exciting works from the 1980s and beyond, notably Chen Haiyan’s “Dream,” an evocative swirl of animals on a black cloud, and Wu Jide’s “Fleeting Years.”

But these pieces beg the question: why

isn’t The Met giving these artists an exhibit of their own? We would never see contem-porary French or Italian artists wedged into a show of this historic scope. Contemporary Chinese artists deserve the same respect we give their Western counterparts.

The Printed Image in China: 8th-21st Centuries Through July 29, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1000 5th Ave., 212-923-3700, www.metmuseum.org.

Door Guardian, 19th century China.

Monologues and MadnessTulis mccall’s no-pressure cabareT

By Elena Oumano

in the midst of the overpriced, dull landscape that has become Greenwich Village stands the Cornelia Street Café, a survivor from an earlier era when au-

diences discovered young Bob Dylans and Maya Angelous.

Monologues and Madness, a monthly event in the Café’s basement, restores that now-rare glow of discovery. Founded and hosted by actress/writer/theater reviewer/wedding officiant Tulis McCall, the evening features cliché-free, often brilliantly per-

formed brief pieces written by the monolo-gists themselves.

This June’s standouts included Carl Kis-sin’s camp counselor addressing aspirants to false murder confessions—a tour-de-force fusion of derangement and sense—Trish Alexandro’s generous-hearted Latina super-market cashier, Flash Rosenberg’s astute riff on “future nostalgia” and offerings from too many other gifted regulars to describe here.

Asked how she started Monologues and Madness, McCall discussed the method in her evening’s sublime madness. “I kept showing up at the Café’s Thursday artist’s salon, and Robin Hirsch, a partner, invited me to have a night of my own. I did a few, which were tremendous failures, but he kept inviting me back. I love to do mono-logues, so I wondered if anyone else would.

“As Ed Koch said, ‘This is New York City.

We have a million of everything.’ I sent out emails to everyone I knew—‘I want to do an evening of monologues, would you join me? But they have to be original—yours or some-one else’s—we don’t need to do Death of a Salesman again. That’s the deal,’” she says.

McCall remembers that some friends advised: “‘Make them two to four minutes; otherwise, you’ll die!’ I thought people could use them for auditions. Instead of [playing] Blanche Dubois and eyes rolling back in heads, they could do something that makes a person sit up and say, ‘Hey, who wrote that?’”

The Monologue Slam also started at Cornelia Street, but, McCall worried, “it had guest judges and an award at the end of the

evening. I didn’t want that. I wanted people to go, ‘I don’t know if this is going to work. Let’s see.’ Also, I wanted these monologues read, not performed, without the pressure of memorizing because you’re still playing around with the text. It’s really a place for people to try things out and be creative at whatever age. There’s a lot of ageism out there, but not at this place. I expect people to keep creating until they keel over.”

Monologues and Madness Cornelia Street Café, 31 Cornelia St., www.monologuesandmadness.com; first Mon-day of the month, 6-8 p.m., $10.

Tulis McCall’s theater reviews can be read at www.ushersnob.com and www.newyorktheatreguide.com For wedding ceremony inquiries, call 917-318-8943.

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