Characterized by grandiose song-and-dance numbers featuring ornate geometric patterns and mimicked in many modern films, Busby Berkeley's unique artistry is as recognizable and striking as ever. From his years on Broadway to the director's chair, Berkeley is notorious for his inventiveness and signature style. Through sensational films like 42nd Street (1933), Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), Footlight Parade (1933), and Dames (1934), Berkeley sought to distract audiences from the troubles of the Great Depression. Although his bold technique is familiar to millions of moviegoers, Berkeley's life remains a mystery.
The Life and Art of Busby Berkeley is a telling portrait of the filmmaker who revolutionized the musical and changed the world of choreography. Berkeley pioneered many conventions still in use today, including the famous "parade of faces" technique, which lends an identity to each anonymous performer in a close-up. Carefully arranging dancers in complex and beautiful formations, Berkeley captured perspectives never seen before.
Jeffrey Spivak's meticulous research magnifies the career and personal life of this beloved filmmaker. Employing personal letters, interviews, studio memoranda, and Berkeley's private memoirs, Spivak unveils the colorful life of one of cinema's greatest artists.
A vomitious explosion of a fever dream... The last 20 minutes of sustained musical numbers in Berkeley's The Gang's All Here (1943) constitute possibly my favorite sequence in cinema (I'm watching it again right now). It ends with that human kaleidoscope that moves me so. It's the most notable instance in movie history of utter tripe also simultaneously and conversely being a masterpiece.
My library has this. Will read and review soon...
I'm hoping the book explains how this part of the sequence was done.
Some neon hoops are lowered from the ceiling on obviously visible wires. The wires have to be cut loose instantly so the women can pull down the hoops to begin twirling them around. For the neon hoops to actually work, they have to be wired to a power source (yes, they were not independently powered). This means the women were literally wired to the hoops with the cord running down their arms through their costumes into a hidden hole in the floor. I get all of that. But how did they maintain the electrical circuit in the hand-off when the hoops are pulled down from the ceiling? Probably a very simple trick but I haven't figured it out. Actually, the electrical cords might actually be on the women the entire time and are being pulled down through their suits as the hoops are lowered on the strings. That means the strings had to be cut, which seems tricky to do in the split second this happens. Hollywood ingenuity, truly.
This is a really thorough and readable account of the underappreciated filmmaker's life. There hasn't been a good bio on him, so this book fills an embarrasing void.
The life of Busby Berkeley was often as frenzied as his dynamic dance designs, which revolutionized the movie musical in the 1930s. This very well researched biography documents his mercurial career and personal life before and after his Hollywood fame.
What the reader learns is that many of the most memorable film sequences associated with his work (Broadway Baby and the storylines of 42nd Street and For Me and My Gal, for example) began in a proscenium on Broadway or stock company stages and that the backstage stories were rooted in Berkeley's own life and family history.
Utilizing diaries, letters, interviews and his own passion for the sometimes inexplicable character of Buzz, Spivak's book is essential for anyone wishing to fully appreciate musicals and films of the studio era.