Pam Cook

Baz Luhrmann captured my imagination with Strictly Ballroom, a love story set amidst the world of competitive ballroom dancing in Australia. The premise was familiar, practically formulaic, but there was something so wonderfully original about the way the story was told that I must have watched the film 100 times while I was in college. Strictly Ballroom was the first of what has been deemed the Red Curtain Trilogy, followed by Romeo & Juliet and Moulin Rouge!, two other films which take the show more familiar and make it strange. My interest in these films led me to request this book on Luhrmann as a way to deepen my understanding of this intriguing director.

This book is a comprehensive look at the origin and development of Luhrmann's aesthetic style. Part biography, part analysis, part character study, the book is dense, and best read in chunks. I found myself picking it up once or twice a week as a sort of break from my more traditional fiction reading. Anyone interested in Luhrmann's style or just interested in Film Studies would benefit from reading this. show less

Review of Baz Luhrmann by Pam Cook

So provocative and insightful are Pam Cook’s analyses of Luhrmann’s Red Curtain films, that I felt I had to re-see them in order to evaluate the quality of her conclusions. The movies discussed in the book are Strictly Ballroom, William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet, Moulin Rouge, and Australia. Anyone who has undertaken thorough analysis of even one film knows it is a lengthy task. Every motion picture has the equivalent of more than 100,000 frames, show more each of which can be dissected as art historians dissect a painting. After doing my own analysis of Strictly Ballroom, it was clear that my original goal was impossible to meet for the purposes of this review, so I will focus on that film, with reference to the other films in passing to give you a taste of what Cook says.

First, in the Intro to the book, Cook maintains that she is interested in what makes for a national cinema and how movies are branded. She proposes that Luhrmann has established a true Australian movie, albeit with international influences. She develops this thesis further as she scrutinizes individual films. At the outset, I must admit that she does not convince me. First of all, all cinema, from the early talkies on, have been international. Even Hollywood, that metonym for movies in general, was influenced by both German and French cinema from the beginning. In turn, it is virtually impossible to make a picture in any country with absolutely no Hollywood influences. The only movies I know of that are largely devoid of American influences are those of Kim Ki Duk, the Korean filmmaker. That doesn’t mean there aren’t others similarly unaffected. I just haven’t seen any. This, of course, is a debatable issue for another forum and someone out there will joyfully prove me wrong.
What I looked for in Cook’s claims were the specifics that she cites for each film to show that Luhrmann has appropriated Hollywood and turned it to new purpose. She believes, and here I agree with her wholeheartedly, that retelling can be an act of originality. Most works of art are retellings. Cook points out that Luhrmann’s William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet is play just such a retelling, just as Shakespeare’s play itself was a retelling of a 16th century poem which, in turn, was a retelling of much older stories–even myths—of young lovers denied. Luhrmann’s title for Romeo + Juliet was his way of saying that he, like Shakespeare, plundered earlier works to produce an original work of art. Like Shakespeare, Luhrmann relied on hyperbole, used popular music of the day, and purposely set his play in a nowhere place at no particular time.
Cook believes that Luhrmann’s retellings create a new Australian national film. This is debatable, as is shown below. This is not to say that Luhrmann is not original. That he certainly is. Like most postmodern filmmakers, he references and quotes other films, but to new purpose. What he creates is both markedly his, and also, I believe, original and innovative. Admittedly, before I can judge whether he has, indeed, created an Australian national cinema, I have to watch Australia again, which I will. As shown below, Strictly Ballroom is not strictly or even loosely specific to Australia, as Cook claims.
For each movie she presents, Cook tells how the movie was produced, how different effects were achieved, the rationale behind selection of the musical score, how it was received critically, how much money it made and from what sources. Beyond such facets of movie making are her analyses of each as a work of art, and, specifically, as noted, an Australian one.
Consider Strictly Ballroom. The movie pits an innovative, but sincere, honest, young outsider against the corrupt power-holders, the Anglo-Celtic Australians whose cultural conservatism dictates how people should and must behave. The outsider here is the star, Paul Mercurio, who is identified by Australians as being of Spanish descent; hence, by definition, not part of the Australian elite. He plays the role of Scott, however, a boy from an Anglo-Celtic family. His otherness is established by his actual ethnicity. This otherness is emphasized by his falling in love with Fran who looks Anglo-Celtic, but who speaks Spanish and is shown living with her very Spanish family. The contrast between her home and Scott’s is highly marked.
Luhrmann references Hollywood musicals of the 1940’s and 50’s throughout, as well as Saturday Night Fever and Cabaret, both from the ‘70’s. As with Romeo and Juliet, locales are largely imaginary, although a few can be determined. Time is similarly deconstructed. It is not clear if the movie is all flashback or if it is taking place in a fictional present. For instance, its explosive opening of dancing to The Blue Danube is followed by a switch to a documentary mode showing the hero Scott’s mother moaning about his insistence on individuality. Then the film shows a title “3 days later.” 3 days later than what? The waltzing scene or the moaning mother scene?
Luhrmann’s use of hyperbole and travesty are manifested throughout the film. Cook sees this as particularly Australian. She notes the multitude of references to well-known Hollywood musicals, from Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse, to Doris Day’s singing “Perhaps, Perhaps” to Saturday Night Fever’s motif of John Travolta’s maturing through his love for a woman. Even Scott’s solo dancing is redolent of Travolta’s iconic solo performance. The judges of the dance competition are travesties of Joel Grey’s role in Cabaret. The dancing venues in the movie use the kinds of sets that were used in the 50’s, but with ‘70’s disco balls twirling. Cook points out that neither hair styles nor costumes belong to any one time or place.
The color is heightened throughout to the point of being garish, a reference to the vividness of Technicolor. The dancing competition is ruled by grotesque ribald representatives of conservative Australian society. Cook says that all of this, the hyperbole, the general heightening, the pastiche, and the travesty show that Luhrmann is not paying homage to Hollywood musicals. He is showing that they are in the past and need to be changed. I don’t argue with this conclusion. Neither does Hollywood, since such movies have not been made in decades. The 70’s musicals themselves did not hark back to Singin’ in the Rain or Doris Day
The central issue in Strictly Ballroom is that of the young upstart who overturns the rigid power structure. The young, sincere Scott is a Jimmy Stewart type. When he persists in dancing his own steps and the music is cut off, the entire audience of the dance competition begins to clap the rhythm, affirming that the corrupt power structure has been overturned. This is straight out of a Capra movie, a very American ethos, which rejoices in seeing the young discard the old. This final scene is not travesty, not hyperbolic, not garishly colored, not satiric at all. It starts as in a Capra* film with Scott’s father clapping, and others slowly joining him until they reach the climax with Scott and Francesca’s innovative dancing. Even the motto, introduced by the outsider, Francesca, “A life lived in fear is only half a life” is repeated in Spanish throughout the movie in both English and Spanish. It is a motto in the film spurring Scott to rebel. As part of his maturation, Scott learns to say it in Spanish. All this indicates that such a thought is not an Australian idea. It comes from the “outside.” I must add that, although it is said in Spanish by a Spanish-Australian girl, it is a typically American sentiment, one expressed in many ways in many genres of Hollywood films.
It is impossible in a review to discuss Cook’s insights into the other movies. Although I disagree with her on one point, I heartily agree with most of what she says. I have long shared her belief that retelling and quoting from prior sources, when apropos, create new originals. She added a dimension to my appreciation Luhrmann’s oeuvre, and that is saying something as I taught the semiotics of film for over thirty years. The joy in teaching such a course lies in watching students start to see movies in entirely new ways. Cook does that even for knowledgeable viewers. Reading her book is a joy.
Semiotic analyses are usually couched in impenetrable phrasing and joyless, opaque jargon. Cook’s writing, however, is accessible, flowing, and cogent.
*Capra didn’t show this by having people clap to the rhythm of a dance, however. show less

An academian perspective on collective works produced by legendary film maker Baz Luhrmann. This book provides detailed accounts and analysis of the unconventional methods and technologies Luhrmann and his partner Catherine Martin employed to create the distinctive style associated with big budget productions like "Moulin Rouge!", "Romeo + Juliet" and "Australia" as well as smaller/lesser known Luhrmann projects like the Chanel No 5 promotional movie. It's a fascinating look into the show more complicated workings of a focused and controversial visionary. There's also valuable accounts regarding the marketing and finance machinations of the independent and studio film industries on two continents. I believe it will be of immense interest to art, music and design students, those involved in stage or screen careers, film critics, entrepeneurs and possibly studio executives, as well as several other niche groups. If you're interested in an insider's celebrity tell-all, this will definitely not be your cup of tea--it is closer to textbook than tabloid. (Note to the publisher if they happen to read LT reviews: The word "auteur" gets quite a workout in this book. While I appreciate it's place in this text, it's repeated use became mildly annoying by the end. A few more photographs would also have been nice, especially since this is a book focused largely on Luhrmann's and Martin's visual style. The few wardrobe sketches that were included were delightful.) If you're a serious fan of Luhrmann's Red Curtain and later productions or a serious cinema buff, it offers a wealth of information unlikely to be assembled anywhere else--a recommend. show less

Pam Cook's review and theories on Baz Luhrmann's films and other work is an interesting introduction to Luhrmann. The book mainly focuses on the visual aspects of the films, exploring and theorizing on color and form, rather than script or characters. This is a fine approach for Luhrmann, who seems most inventive in his rich visuals. Cook does bring interesting context to Luhrmann's films, helping us decode the multi-cultural Australia which centers Luhrmann's work. But she doesn't bring show more much more depth to her writing on Luhrmann's themes then this contextual placement.

Cook's strongest and most interesting points lay in some of the biographical material about Luhrmann's beginning work and early influences, bringing a fresh perspective to reading his films. Learning, for example, about the Luhrmann's early experimental theater writing and work helps us appreciate the development of his red curtain trilogy.

My only critique of Cook's study is that she stays firmly rooted in the positive, exploring only Luhrmann's strongest qualities. She holds back from any critique of the director's missteps or exploration of the weaknesses that exist in every artist's body of work. Exploring the failures as well as the successes could have made the book richer and the analysis deeper. show less