A Hollywood Odyssey: Sparks take Ingmar Bergman on a journey to hell and back

 

                                                                                                                                       

          A Hollywood Odyssey: Sparks take Ingmar Bergman on a journey to hell and back

             Since Joseph Campbell's seminal work The Hero with a Thousand Faces  was first published in 1949, it has been accepted that the metanarrative he describes as 'the Hero's Journey' can be seen to underpin, albeit with many variations, not just worldwide myths and hero stories from Gilgamesh, Homer's Odyssey and Virgil's Aeneid to Dante's Inferno, but fairy tales, folk tales, modern travel and adventure stories, comic book tales and, especially, many stories for children and young adults and video games. The basic structure of this narrative is described by Campbell as one of 'separation, a penetration to some source of power, and a life-enhancing return', a pattern which has been absorbed in different periods and cultures and recreated in many new forms.¹  Although the specific elements and import may be uniquely relevant to, modified and informed by their contemporary cultural or historical context, retellings of the story or stories based on this metanarrative can have a satisfying and meaningful impact on a readership or audience, precisely because the fundamental pattern may have been encountered elsewhere. One need look no further than the huge success of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books to appreciate the ways in which the essential elements of the metanarrative have been revived and reinvented in a modern fantasy that appeals to young readers. These elements can also, however, be seen to surface in other and perhaps unexpected creative contexts. This paper proposes that the flexibility, universality, continuing relevance and potential for interdisciplinarity of the Hero's Journey narrative has been demonstrated in recent times by the musical drama The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman (2009), devised, composed and performed by the art-pop band Sparks (Los Angeles based brothers Ron and Russell Mael), whose musical longevity, constant self-reinvention and widely acknowledged influence on other musicans have made them iconic figures in contemporary popular music.²

 

            The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman is a fantasy about an attempt to lure the internationally acclaimed Swedish director into making blockbuster movies for a mythological Hollywood studio in the 1950s, and has been hailed repeatedly as an original and compelling work of musical genius, an 'engrossing and enriching piece', a 'what-if fictional fantasy', and 'a fascinating and powerful discourse on the struggle between art and commerce'.³  Originally commissioned by Swedish radio and broadcast from the Södra Teatern in Stockholm on 14 August 2009, with a British airing in English on BBC Radio 6 Music on 28 October, the work, lasting approximately sixty minutes with twenty-four sub-sections, was also released as an album in 2009, and transformed into a theatrical experience, or a staged readthrough of a planned film, in the John Anson Ford Amphitheatre at the Los Angeles Film Festival on 25 June 2011.⁴  There are still ongoing plans to make it into a feature film. The Swedish broadcast featured actors Jonas Malmsjö and Elin Klinga, both of whom had worked in Ingmar Bergman's productions, while amongst the actors involved in the Los Angeles production (ironically in the heart of Tinseltown), was Finnish actor Peter Franzén.  The translation from sound only piece to a potential film script was effected visually by the Canadian film director Guy Maddin reading aloud stage directions to introduce and link each sub-section and filming some of the action from the side of the stage .  The performance was warmly received by audience and critics, and described as 'sexy, savvy, absurdly catchy, funny as hell and dazzling in its audacity'.⁵  The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman is, like Sparks themselves, all of these things, and more, and this paper proposes that much of  the power of the work also stems from its affinities with the age-old story of the 'Hero's Journey' which enhance its themes of integrity and vision versus corruption, greed and corporate cynicism and the clash of artistic and cultural sensibilities in Europe and America .  

 

            There is already a clear link between the metanarrative of the Hero's Journey and the ethos of movie making: in his 1998 book The Writer's Journey: Mythic Structures for Writers , Christopher Vogler, himself an industry professional, offers an exhaustive discussion and plentiful examples of the different aspects of the Hero's Journey and how they may be (and have been) applied in Hollywood screenplays. He cites  films as diverse as The Lion King, Titanic, Pulp Fiction, The Full Monty, The Wizard of Oz, Beverly Hills Cop, and the Star Wars movies as examples which draw on the story in different and innovative ways. This book, based on Vogler's earlier Practical Guide, carries testimonials from scriptwriters, directors and producers praising it as one of the standard Hollywood guidebooks for the screenwriting craft, which demonstrates the wide-ranging and continuing relevance of Campbell's argument.⁶   The ingenuity of The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman is that the narrative structure so often reworked in Hollywood movies operates here, together with the manipulation of many of the conventions and cliché​s of both musicals and adventure films, to satirise the commercialism and corrupt methods of an imaginary studio, and the dangerous consequences of the obsession with celebrity and box-office receipts. Although the tale is set in the 1950s, and the studio is a composite of the powerful studios of the period, these themes clearly remain relevant to debates about art and commercialism in many cultural fields in more recent times (most notably, currently, in the case of television). The Maels themselves are not strangers to the vicissitudes and disappointments of  trying to bring a screenplay to fruition in a highly competitive, cut-throat, profit-obsessed world.⁷  The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman is indeed, as many reviewers of the album and show in the U.K.and U.S. press remarked, a dark fairy tale or fable for our times that, like many traditional fairy tales, manages to be funny, tragic, frightening and thought provoking at the same time.⁸   The comparison with fairy tales and fables is not inappropriate or inconsistent: Bergman himself declared in an interview in 1971 his interest in fairy tales, especially cruel ones, and according to Ron Mael, although they did not have a specific tale in mind, the notion of Ingmar Bergman appearing in a musical creates in itself a surreal and dreamlike quality.⁹   The Maels have also spoken of their 'liking for inconsistency': in this case both musically and dramatically, as the music encompasses different styles (echoes of Kurt Weill, synth pop, classical, polka, vaudeville, jazz) and instruments (piano, orchestra, guitar, drums), and the plot and characterization feature anacronistic images and  juxtapose stereotypical American clichés with Bergman's severe, existential stance, always 'thinking of big things'.¹⁰   This paper does not pretend to do justice to the varied and evocative music of the piece, which both accompanies and reflects the sung and spoken words and comments upon the action, but focuses on the effect of the elements of the 'Hero's Journey' narrative which can be identified in this compelling fantasy.

 

            The basic structure of this narrative, as defined by Campbell, involves the hero leaving home, either on a quest or unintentionally, and entering a strange and often dangerous world: 'a place of strangely fluid and polymorphous beings, unimaginable torments, superhuman deeds and impossible delight' , a definition that could equally well apply to the world of movies.¹¹  Here he (or she) encounters dangers, temptations and threats from monstrous opponents which he is finally able to overcome, often with help from a beneficent being, and from which he returns home, having achieved his goal, to welcome and reward. Asserting that myths give symbolic expression to the unconscious desires, fears and tensions that underlie human behaviour and communicate traditional wisdom, Campbell embraced the ideas of Carl. G. Jung to argue that, as well as a literal adventure, the journey may be seen as an inward one, the dangers encountered by the modern hero symbolising aspects of the unconscious, his struggle with personal inner demons on a journey of self-discovery leading to wholeness and the confirmation of individual identity.¹²  Just as retellings of this fundamental narrative often draw on contemporary concerns, so the reactions and interpretations by any readership or audience are likely to be influenced by their own experiences and cultural context as well as by any prior knowledge of similar stories. Intertextual references and echoes of other narratives are commonly used to create the pleasure of recognition and to reinforce a point, as evidenced by the frequent use of images from fairy tales in advertising.¹³ In The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman, there are multiple levels of  interdisciplinarity which embellish the basic structure of the hero story with allusions to Bergman's films, references to typical Hollywood film soundtrack music and echoes of songs and musical styles from the long and distinguished career of Sparks. At the broadest level, the theme of the journey, both literal and metaphorical, plays a structural and thematic role in many of Bergman's films (notably Wild Strawberries, 1957), as it does in the 24 episodes here.¹⁴  The major themes of Bergman's films are, in effect, not unlike those found in myths and fairy tales: the binary oppositions of good and evil, the existence of God and the devil, dream and reality, art and life, the mask and the face, life and death, the conscious and the unconscious, the struggle to find meaning in life, and all of these can be seen to feature here.¹⁵  Moreover, the real Bergman had strong views on the struggle between art and commerce: in an interview in June1968, he asserted that after his making of This Can't Happen Here (1950), he said to himself that never again would he make a film for money or allow anyone to buy him, because 'if I start playing fast and loose with ethics, I'll lose my inherent value as a human being, everything that gives me the feeling that I have a right to make films'.¹⁶  Similarly, in an interview given on the day of the Los Angeles staged performance, Ron and Russell Mael acknowledged that, although the theme of art versus commerce was not initially a conscious personal statement, it could indeed be seen to relate to their own career, describing temptations to depart from their own artistic vision as a 'battle of selling their souls to the devil'.¹⁷   Alert Sparks fans will also pick up on themes running through many of their earlier songs, which are themselves often like mini-operas (the uncertainties of life and love, cynicism and dishonesty in relationships, self-doubt, fear of humiliation and betrayal, the precariousness of identity) and familiar characteristics of the lyrics (such as concise and understated wit, layered meanings, repetition, allusive innuendo). They will also  recognise the significance of the dichotomy between European and American artistic sensibilities, an issue that has played an important role in Sparks' career path.   Not least, they will be delighted and hooked from the start by the subtle reference to Sparks' iconic song 'This town aint big enough for the both of us', from the 1974 album Kimono My House, in the third episode as the Bergman character arrives in Hollywood.

 

            The origin of The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman as a radio musical has important implications, not least because Bergman himself wrote for the medium which, he felt, had special possibilities, being at once 'more intimate and poetical than visual theatre'.¹⁸  Arguably radio drama is all the more evocative because the listener's imagination is more acutely stimulated and is forced to become active, to collaborate in the enterprise without the distraction of visual elements.  The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman, as both radio play and album, blends the spoken word, song, music and sound effects to tell a story in a highly innovative and ingenious manner.  Whereas in Stockholm, the work was played in a theatre in front of a screen that showed only a picture of Bergman, the transition to a staged version employed large surreal projected images behind the stylised movements of the live actors which challenged a realistic interpretation and enhanced the  illusion of fantasy.¹⁹  These included huge sketched faces of Bergman and other figures, snatches of the lyrics and collages blending vintage imagery from Sweden, Los Angeles and Bergman's films: thus, the famous Dance of Death image of silhouetted figures against a dark cloud in The Seventh Seal is reproduced against a Californian sunset with tall palm trees, and in another the giant head and shoulders of Greta Garbo are seen looming over the Beverly Hills Hotel and figures on a beach.  It is, of course, essential in any medium to catch the audience's attention and interest from the start with the title of a piece, and the opening scene. This title evokes the erotic promise of many of Bergman's titles (Illicit Interlude (1951); A Lesson in Love (1954) for example) as well as intriguing the audience members who may expect a sensational drama-documentary of Bergman's personal life. The opening scene-setting sequence or prologue is the excited announcement, in three languages with drumbeats and enthusiastic applause, of the jury's prize for 'poetic humour' awarded to Bergman's Smiles of a Summer Night (1955) at the 1956 Cannes Film Festival, an honour which allegedly took the director by surprise.²⁰  This immerses the listening audience directly within the Cannes event, both contextualising the story and pointing towards the central theme of international recognition and acclaim which is the foundation of the temptation the fictional Bergman is to undergo: whether to be seduced by Hollywood into allowing his often proclaimed artistic integrity to be perverted by celebrity status and the commercialism of the American film industry, or to resist, because, as Bergman himself put it in 1968, 'What you say 'yes' to, and what you say 'no' to in your work. Nothing else matters'.²¹

 

            The fictional Bergman, like his real counterpart, encapsulates the qualities of the composite hero figure in a number of ways: he has exceptional gifts within his sphere (in his case, his achievements and a strong sense of his artistic vision), and is honoured by his own society.²²  He also displays universal emotions such as moments of self-doubt and fear. In episode 2, against a background of sweeping orchestral music reminiscent of many a movie opening, he introduces himself, directly addressing his audience who, he recognises, may or may not have heard of him or his films and, like Dante in the Divina Commedia, proceeds to tell the tale of what happened to him at a critical moment in his life. The detail about Bergman and his career in this introduction is minimal but enough for the audience to appreciate the import of what follows. He recounts that the success at Cannes of Smiles of a Summer Night, a comedy unlike his usual work, triggered a strange and unexpected reaction in  him, the urge to enter a cinema to watch an American action movie of the sort he detests ('Have you ever felt compelled to do something against your will? I have. I have.') He ponders why he should have endured 'escapist art of the worst kind' for ninety minutes, wondering whether it was an urge to do something mindless or simply 'the urge to do something...unlike Ingmar Bergman?' (episode 2).   Whether this is a moment of self-doubt, the subconscious pull of the opposite or, since he is already on the verge of difference with Smiles of a Summer Night, a nascent temptation to take his work in a new direction is left unanswered. This moment is what Campbell calls 'the Call to Adventure', when 'destiny has summoned the hero and transferred his spiritual centre of gravity from within the pale of his society to a zone unknown'.²³   This lure is not always understood by the hero himself and, in Bergman's case, its embodiment in a film foreshadows the unknown world he is about to enter.  Bergman's uncertainty, which suggests a vacillating sense of identity and hence vulnerability to temptation, would support the interpretation that what follows is a dream, one that exemplifies an inner struggle between his integrity and the prospect of critical, popular and commercial success suggested by the Cannes accolade. The movie theatre, appropriately, represents the portal to the unknown world in which this hero's adventure is to take place.  This is a notion that the real Bergman would have appreciated: he has described the starting point for his film Wild Strawberries (1957) as a fantasy about opening a door and going back into one's childhood, then opening another door and returning to reality or a different period of one's life.²⁴  Here, going through the exit, Bergman finds himself in an unfamiliar street in a world that is both real and, yet, as the general perception of Hollywood as Tinseltown suggests, not dissimilar to the worlds of fantasy or fairy tale. Just as the unknown world contrasts with the hero's ordinary world, so here the contrasts between Bergman's Sweden and the United States are manifested at many different levels, from the weather and food to language and cultural tastes. It is strange, yet strangely familiar, a parallel world where Bergman finds himself the protagonist in a new narrative in which he is clearly expected but where he is no longer in control even of his own movements.

 

           In the 'unknown world' of myth and fairy tale, the hero typically encounters both dangers and dangerous delights, challenges and a range of obstacles and antagonists. These may include guardians of the threshold at the entrance to this 'zone of magnified power'. who block his way or test his powers, ogres, sirens, shapeshifters and, usually, an arch villain or enemy.²⁵ The limo driver who meets Bergman as he emerges from the portal is the first of the threshold guardians, a sort of Charon of the freeways who ferries the visitor to his destination against a background of street noises, squealing tyres and a discordant and insistent beat. The  sycophantic trivialities of his conversation in response to Bergman's increasingly anxious protests  demonstrate a nightmarish lack of communication and a latent menace. Unlike the guide figure of myth, or Dante's Virgil, who may impart helpful information, the limo driver's  refusal to depart from his tourist- welcoming platitudes exacerbates the reluctant Bergman's agitation and futile attempts at self-assertion, signalled by rapid piano notes racing ever more frantically up and down the scale.  In accordance with the next stage of the Hero's Journey, Bergman is conducted to another portal (the studio gates) which will lead him into the part of this strange world that will hold the most dangers and temptations and where the battle for his soul will begin. The motto that Dante finds over the entrance to hell, 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here', irresistibly springs to mind.  Here the dramatic question that, as Vogler describes, must motivate the piece and hook the audience  is posed: will Bergman submit to the seduction of Hollywood or overcome the challenges to his independence and stay true to his artistic vision?²⁶  His meetings with further threshold guardians, the automata-like doorman and concierge who retain his hotel keys, and the telephone operator who, in a Kafka-esque scene, claims that there is no such place as Sweden on her list, reveal the typical isolation and vulnerability of the hero far from home, for although Hollywood promises Bergman freedom, he is in fact imprisoned and controlled at every turn, the victim of an apparent conspiracy.  The values of this world, based it would seem on the criteria of money, sex and getting a tan, are revealed in the wonderfully funny episode of the 'Hollywood Welcoming Committee' (episode 8), a beautiful hooker sent by the studio to relax and persuade the still reluctant Bergman. Like Circe in the Odyssey, she represents the dangerous delight of sexuality that will threaten the hero's self-control and power, offering, instead of Circe's magic potion, a cup of herbal tea.  She acknowledges that she represents a blatant attempt to persuade him to stay because of his well-known 'weakness for the girls', and her blandishments mingle a picture of a life of artistic freedom in Hollywood that corresponds to his professional desires and frustrations ('budgets for what you want to do/ Crews that can read your mind and work all night/ Work all night') with the allusive promise of sexual gratification ('Tell me how best to make my case, any ol' way or face to face').  

 

            The hero's main adversary at the film studio is the Studio Chief, spoken and sung by Russell Mael channelling a smoothly sinister screen villain, a tempter whose cynical and shallow manipulativness is revealed in his hushed advice to his people on how to handle Bergman on his arrival. The rhythmically chanted repetition of a refrain ('Here he is now'), a frequent stylistic device in Sparks' songs, creates a menacing atmosphere reminiscent of  'The Rhythm Thief' from the 2002 album Lil' Beethoven.  His jokey politeness to Bergman in episode 5 is false and sycophantic, like the mask worn by the evil archetypes of myth.  After patronising him with Swedish mineral water and a totally unnecessary translator, he reveals the pure self-interest of Hollywood's motives in wishing to acquire Bergman's talent and reputation ('we need you to help erase/ Image problems, self-imposed/ Art and commerce, never close/ You can bring us both of those') and at the same time, his dismissive disdain for 'art' in the concession that 'Works of art can also work/For some Midwest creepy jerk'. There is a real life context for this scenario: in the 1950s, the old Hollywood studios were in decline because of the decrease in movie audiences and were seeking to expand their international activities, and the old movie moguls were eventually being replaced by a new generation of studio heads tasked with reversing the drop in profits .²⁷ The first stage of the attempted seduction begins with the Studio Chief's crass and fatuous praise of Bergman's films which, with its repetition of the word 'great' paradoxically deconstructs the notion of inherent value (as in the Sparks song 'Popularity' from the album Sparks In Outer Space (1983)) in terms of both language and artistic sensibility. His promise of  rewards of financial and artistic freedom, a deal that emphasises the benefits of mutual help to Bergman himself come across like the proposal of a gangster or protection racketeer.  However, just as the hero of myth is exposed to temptations that correspond to his deepest fears  and thus are all the more seductive, this enticement insidiously alludes to the economic difficulties Bergman experienced with the Swedish film industry, which ceased production altogether for an unspecified period in 1951.²⁸   The Studio Chief can thus be seen as what Vogler calls the 'Shadow', a dangerous enemy because he is to an extent a magnified and distorted reflection of the Hero's desires and fears.²⁹  The posing in this episode of the central themes of The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman, art versus commerce and the clash of artistic visions, is the more forceful and insistent for each line being dutifully repeated in Swedish by the interpreter.  The Studio Chief's assertion in episode 6 that Bergman will come around as others have done indicates both a smug assumption of the superiority of the Hollywood way and a cynical view of human nature.  Bergman now has to face the conflict engendered by the seemingly rational arguments of his antagonist, the 'weasel logic of the powerful vulgarian', which cause him, like many heroes of myth to hesitate.³⁰ As the limo ferries him back to the Beverly Hills Hotel, he ponders that he should not be too hasty in rejecting the proposition while at the same time recognising the downside, notably communication problems and what he finds most distasteful in much American output, its 'abominable' music, 'ridiculous' method acting and destructive cult of celebrity. The contrast in imperatives is underlined by the insistent beat accompanying the driver's words and the orchestral sweep of the music signalling Bergman's (spoken) interior monologue.

           

            The central test for Bergman comes in episode 10, 'The Studio Commissary', an apt equivalent to what Vogler calls the 'Inmost Cave' where the hero faces death.³¹   Here Bergman becomes like the ancient travellers Odysseus and Aeneas, or Dante, in their descent to the Underworld, confronted not with shades of his past, a vision of the future or the fate of sinners, but with a pantheon of other famous emigré directors who, for different reasons, personal and political, have come to work in Hollywood, and are now happily gorging themselves with steak and cake in this land of plenty. Against a background of chatter and clattering cutlery, the shapeshifting Studio Chief attempts to lure him into a Faustian bargain with ambiguous half-truths and flattery, identifying directors with whom Bergman might empathise and who allegedly overcame anxieties about the cultural divide between Europe and America: 'Their vision made it here unscathed, none felt a whore/ none felt he caved'.  He even answers his reservation about language difficulties by confidently asserting that English is the common tongue of cinema, an observation on the universal pervasiveness of American culture and an implied denigration of other foreign language films that amount to a provocative display of cultural imperialism. The directors enjoying symbolic physical gratification like robots in the Commissary were indeed all famous names in the 1950s or earlier (Alfred Hitchcock, Billy Wilder, Fritz Lang and Jose Von Sternberg among them) and worked for a variety of studios of which this is an imaginary composite. The films named in the Studio Chief's recitation of their achievements (Sunset Boulevard, The Man Who Knew Too Much, Cat People, Sunrise, Detour) were all Oscar winners or commercial successes, but the Studio Chief's over-familiar and insincerely trite praise conceals a subtext of compromise: 'one could quibble which was best, their Old World work or/ work out west'.³²  This information is rattled off in the manner of a list song (which recalls the recitation of  scent brands in 'Perfume' on the Hello Young Lovers album (2006), for example), accompanied by a chorus of almost demonic laughter to a comic beat. The Chief's mask of conciliatory mateyness elides at the end of the episode into a thinly disguised threat as he urges Bergman to make the right choice. Like the epic heroes tempted by sirens, Bergman wrestles with his conscience, although acutely aware of  his own superiority and their crassness: 'My first instinct would be to tell them to go to hell', words which the real Bergman actually used in an interview in 1971 when asked about external interference in his work, as the Maels were delighted to discover.³³  But the fictional Bergman is also aware of the attractive prospect of American money bankrolling his work, hovering on the brink of capitulation as he wonders whether he could survive in Hollywood as he repeats: 'So I must not be hasty' (episode 11).

            In the episodes that follow this existential crisis, three ordeals involving monsters that in the tradition of the hero story, correspond to his fears trigger the next stage in his story. In the first, a confrontation with a Hollywood starlet (episode 13), presumably based on the temperamental 1930s star Simone Simon identified in the Commissary,  during an imagined and disastrous film shoot, contrasts with the real Bergman's close relationship with his own Swedish actors and exemplifies his fictional alter ago's anxieties about a star not understanding his temperament on set and his ability to communicate his aims in such an alien atmosphere. The arrogant and aggressive starlet personifies the perversion of art and the warping of human nature by the cult of celebrity in her brutal rejection of his artistic approach and efforts to make her share his vision. In her assumption of the superior power of the star over the director, manifested in the repeated refrain of 'Who do you think you are? Why do you take that tone with me', underlined by a crash of cymbals and drums at the end of each line, she is an embodiment of the uncontrolled female power of mythical or fairy tale witches or femmes fatales who threaten to eat or otherwise destroy the male protagonist. In the Hollywood starlet, Sparks fans will also recognise the predatory, capricious and emasculating female type who haunts their songs (in Please, baby please' or 'Something for the girl with everything', for example from In Outer Space (1983) and Propaganda (1974) respectively). Subsequently, in an unnerving but comic scene, Bergman is pursued by a Hollywood tour bus and finds that he has become another tourist attraction, pointed out to visitors as a curiosity and urged to perform the role of famous foreign director for the public. His existence and his work are trivialised in the ebullient tour guide's spiel intoned against staccato notes, excited shrieks and applause: 'We can only hope that the sun doesn't burn the trademark/Scandinavian gloom out of his outlook./ That's why we love him!', an insincere accolade that is a concisely humorous articulation of Bergman's dilemma. The perniciousness of celebrity (lamented in Sparks' song 'Funny Face' from the Whomp that Sucker album (1981)), is underlined as Bergman almost becomes a victim of fan violence, pursued and hounded by a pack of autograph hunters, his increasing panic evident in the drum beats accompanying his repeated need to get away from their demands and screams. (In the Los Angeles staged version, Bergman was the centre of a tug-of-war which stretched his (fake) arms to bizarre lengths.)The hotel concierge's laconically terrifying remark that he seems to be the object of some Hollywood hospitality is the catalyst for the next stage in his story, corresponding to the hero's 'Escape and Return Home', in which, typically, according to Vogler, the story's energy is revved up to a climax.³⁴.

 

            In Episode 17 'Bergman ponders escape', which is introduced by eerie, dreamy music,

Bergman finds himself face to face with the preoccupations of many of his own films: solitude,   fear, hopelessness and loss of identity, but of a nightmarish sort that directly affects himself. The essential wrongness of his situation dawns on him: 'This Hollywood is not a place. It's a sensibility at/ complete odds with my sensibility' together with the problem of escape from somewhere that is more an idea than a physical location. This further supports the allegorical interpretation of his adventure as a dream or an imagining of a possible future self from which his instinct is to flee. His flight is preceded by a scene in which the Studio Chief's mask of facile bonhomie slips to reveal his true nature, his disbelief at Bergman's rejection morphing into something like a curse, grounded in the unshakeable assumption that Hollywood is the centre of the film universe : 'He'll see that he is lost without us/ He'll never be that great without us' (episode 18). Vogler writes that the 'Escape episode of the archetypical hero story  has produced many of the most exciting chase scenes in movie history.³⁵  The two episodes that follow (19 and 20) are both an appropriation of and ironic homage to the conventions of the Hollywood chase scene, a witty device to symbolise the ruthless abuse of power by the studios as Bergman himself becomes an actor in a big budget Hollywood action film, exactly like the one he was watching earlier, pursued by police cars and helicopters who are prepared to shoot him down if necessary. Bergman's repeated spoken refrain of 'They're after me, they're after me' , with slightly differing emphases (reminiscent of the song 'My baby's taking me home' from the Lil' Beethoven album (2002)), humorously preceded by a short burst of a heavenly choir, is placed against the chanted and sung commands of the megaphone-bearing police officer and a cacophony of jangly notes, running footsteps, car horns, sirens and the whirring of helicopters to produce a frightening auditory experience that still manages to retain a comic side.  According to Campbell, the pursuit of the hero in myth may indeed be comical and lively if it is resented by the enemy gods or demons, as it manifestly is here.³⁶ Ironically, the real Bergman claimed that the only fun he had in making the film This Can't Happen Here' (1950) was a delightful experience when he had forty police cars under his control and enjoyed ordering retakes of a scene in which they had to screech at speed up to a quayside.³⁷  The chase scenes in The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman also offered the opportunity to introduce some bombastic big Hollywood-style music as a contrast to the more intimate music of earlier scenes.³⁸  They evoke the soundtrack of a typical action movie as the pace of the chase intensifies, the order is given to fire rockets and let dogs loose: 'he won't know what hit him, I'm sure/ Before he reaches the shore/ A little afternoon gore'. Like many mythical heroes before him, the increasingly fearful and desperate Bergman recognises that in every sense, 'this place is death to me', a conclusion confirmed by the declaration of  the Studio Chief, that if they can't take him alive, they may have no choice but to kill him rather than let him return home.

 

            It is common for the hero to need help in his return home from a saviour figure, a benign power who knows the 'power of the zone', and Bergman is no exception.³⁹ As he reaches the shore at Santa Monica, he finds himself an actor in a film more like one of his own as he undergoes a moment of exhausted existential angst and calls on God to prove that He exists and save him from this man-made Hell: 'Send an angel down to lead/ Lead me from this barren land/ How the hell can I believe/ If you withhold your guiding hand' (episode  21). In an interview with the L A. Record in 2011, the Maels insisted that Bergman's plea was intended to be sincere, evoking many such crises in his films, and that the fact that it is the only moment in the work where he sings, underlines its importance for him.⁴⁰  Unlike the Knight in The Seventh Seal, however, he encounters not Death and a chess board, but, in the spirit of the mythical hero's providential meeting with a goddess or fairy godmother, a statuesque woman  approaching him on the beach. This is no supernatural being,  but a different sort of legendary beauty, a screen goddess, Greta Garbo. The choice of Garbo was driven, according to Ron Mael, by the need to find a saviour, preferably a woman and Swedish, who would be known to an audience beyond Sweden, and the scene between these two icons of cinema on the beach at Santa Monica, was not intended to be funny, but to be emotionally touching.⁴¹  It is also, of course, an anacronism, as Garbo retired from the screen in 1941, but this is consistent with the deliberate inconsistencies of time in this work which, as Ron Mael asserts in the same interview, reveals their liking for 'things that are out of place', and indicates that this story is not just about the past. In his autobiographical work, The Magic Lantern (1967), Ingmar Bergman describes his meeting with Garbo in terms that throw an interesting light on the creation of modern myths and fits well with her role here: 'It is hard to say whether great myths are unremittingly magical because they are myths or whether the magic is an illusion, created by us consumers; but at that moment, there was no doubt..... her beauty was imperishable'.⁴²   The fictional Bergman's uncertainty about the reality of either Garbo or Hollywood reiterates the question of the nature of reality and dream that often finds expression in his films. Garbo, who, ironically, became a big star in Hollywood and, of course, never appeared in any of Bergman's films, while not an angel from God, is an angel of redemption nonetheless who will help him to get back 'to somewhere monochrome', where he will be 'a certain kind of free' (episode 22). This allusion to both the medium of many of Bergman films, contrasted with Hollywood technicolour, and the fact that Garbo herself never appeared on screen in colour, further emphasises the appropriateness of her role here.  Her song echoes that of  the Studio Chief earlier ('You know that you'd be lost without me') but holds promise rather than a threat as she leads him to a nearby movie theatre to watch a film she made in Sweden as a rising Swedish star. This film, The Story of Gösta Berling (1924) itself a story of redemption, is, she points out, the agent of a double transformation: of herself to Hollywood star, and now of Bergman's release and return home. Russell Mael described Garbo as a 'kind of bookend device' in that since Bergman got himself into trouble by going to see the American movie, so a Swedish icon shows him the way back and confirms that he made the right decision to get away from Hollywood.⁴³  The story comes full circle as they enter the theatre and he resumes his retrospective narrative, accompanied by the same music as his exposition in episode 2, describing his new-found sense of calm and expectation as they watch this 'glorious Swedish film'. This, ironically, conforms to Vogler's assertion that Hollywood movie makers prefer the circular form of ending common in myth which leads to closure, completion and a catharsis for the hero, often signalled by a repeated image or situation, to open or ambiguous endings.⁴⁴ The fictional Bergman' s statement that his story has 'almost a Hollywood ending' unequivocally links  it to both movie conventions and the happy endings of fairy tale and myth. When the lights go up, Garbo has disappeared and Bergman leaves the theatre alone though a new portal that returns him to a Swedish street.  

 

            The last scene (episode 24) is not imbued with the stereotypical Scandinavian gloom that the Hollywood characters associate with Bergman's films, but provides a joyous finale.Once again, Bergman's arrival is expected, a crowd of happy Swedish people giving the returning hero a rapturous reception to a rousing and cheerful tune. While the hero of myth characteristically brings back a boon or elixir, actual or metaphorical, that will serve humanity and restore life in the ordinary world, so Bergman is welcomed as part of the Swedish psyche necessary to their culture, without whom they are lost.⁴⁵  The crowd sings that only in Sweden can his identity be stable and authentic, a truth articulated in a comic fashion: the declaration that he has come back with no sign of a tan confirms that he has not been contaminated by the values of a Hollywood that could not even pronounce his name correctly. This reaffirming of personal and cultural identity, the hero's hard won sense of wholeness, is endorsed by the repetition of each line of their song and in the Los Angeles  performance was underlined by the waving on stage of a large Swedish flag. Indeed, the Swedish people's praise of his work suggests that they alone understand and need his artistic vision rather than the shallow sensationalism of Hollywood blockbusters ('without the depth that Bergman brought/ Our lives were just an afterthought'). The story finishes on a philosophical reflection: a quotation attributed to Socrates in Plato's Apology that sums up Bergman's contribution to world cinema and acts as a challenge to the audience: 'The unexamined live they say/ is not worth living, well, O.K./ Ah, but Bergman well, he examines all/ and most of all himself' which is juxtaposed with an abrupt but decisive 'Good night, that's all', a tongue in cheek echo of a familiar sign-off from Warner Brothers cartoons.

 

            The seduction has failed, and Bergman has not been sucked into a world where greed and self-interest are endemic and artistic endeavour is only valued for the profits it brings. Rather, the real Bergman recalled that the success at Cannes enabled him to achieve his desire to get his best-known film The Seventh Seal made in Sweden.⁴⁶  The imagined conflict here is validated by the fact that he spoke repeatedly of his resolution to remain true to himself and his artistic vision, one of the main reasons, he claimed, that he did not want to work outside Sweden.⁴⁷  Such a determination can of course also be applied, as a number of reviewers have noted, to Sparks themselves, who have always taken pride in pursuing their own goals sometimes at the expense of instant celebrity and huge financial reward in the music world. The BBC review of the album made the comparison explicitly, describing the story as 'one of cultural European intelligence, resisting the bland homogenising influence of corporate America to carve its own idiosyncratic path – does that remind you of anyone?' ⁴⁸ In the 2011 interview, Ron and Russell Mael concede that the imperative of always upholding one's ideals does indeed have parallels with their own aesthetic.Their decision to stage an English version of The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman for an American audience of film fans and professionals in Los Angeles itself was a courageous one that was vindicated by the rave reviews it received.  There is a certain piquancy in the whole enterprise of a musical by Americans that privileges European culture over that of America, but then the Maels have long been self-confessed Euro- and Anglophiles. The theme of the cultural divide, described by a review in The Independent as one of 'the great artistic issues of the last century' was thus effectively encapsulated and enacted in the two productions in Sweden and America.⁴⁹  To try to interpret the impact on the different audiences in Sweden, the rest of Europe and the United States is like entering a hall of mirrors, but The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman does offer a universal kind of  catharsis, an emotional release through relief and laughter as well as the enjoyment of the masterly wit and invention of the lyrics and music. This is by no means a conventional musical, which Ron and Russell Mael claim to dislike as much as they detest the label 'rock musical', but an attempt  at a new genre involving many different influences, although still embued with a rock sensibility.⁵⁰  It is to be hoped that Sparks' goal of transforming this ingenious and  moving musical drama into a feature film will eventually become a reality, as it illuminates both ongoing debates about the commercialization of art and the enduring relevance of an ancient narrative to issues pertinent to contemporary culture.        

 

 

References

 

1.     Joseph Campbell (1949), (1968) The Hero with a Thousand Faces (Princeton: Princeton University Press), p.35. See, for example, discussion in Marjory Hourihan, Deconstructing the Hero: Literary Theory and Children's Literature (London and New York: Routledge, 1997); John Stephens, and Robyn McCallum, Retelling Stories, Framing Culture. Traditional Story and Metanarratives in Children's Fiction (New York: Garland, 1998).

2.     For example, Morissey, Björk, Queen, Nirvana, Depeche Mode, The Ramones and Faith No More amongst many others.

3.     See  Simon Price, The Independent on Sunday, 15 November 2009, www.ww.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/tv/reviews/album-sparks-the-seduction-of-ingmar-bergman-lil-beethoven-records-1820763.html; Gregory Weinkauf, The Huffington Post, 1 July 2011, www.huffpost.cm/us/entry/885530; Dave Simpson, The Guardian , 27 November, 2009; www.theguardian.com/music/2009/nov/27/sparks-the-seduction-of-ingmar-bergman. Accessed 12 August 2016.

4.     See the official site http://theseductionofingmarbergman.com for lyrics, music, images and a short extract from the performance at the Los Angeles Film Festival.

5.     www.huffpost.com/us/entry/885530.

6.     Christopher Vogler, The Writer's Journey. Mythic Structure for Writers (Los Angeles:  Michael Weise, 1998).

7.     Sparks' plans in the 1990s for a film version of the manga comic Mai the Psychic Girl did not come to fruition at that time and the experience may have informed their views on the film industry in this work.

8.     See, for example, John Payne, L.A. Weekly, 17 June, 2011,  www.laweekly.com/musiclive-review-sparks-the-seduction-of-ingmar-bergman-2399900 , accessed 12 August 2016.

9.     Interview with IngmarBerman and Dick Cavett (2 August,1971) may be viewed on www.youtube.com/watch?v=85NzBOjVe6c, accessed 12 August 2016; Ronald Mael, personal communication, 11 May 2016.

10.  Interview with Ron and Russell Mael (25 June, 2011) can be viewed at www.youtube.com/watch?v=LC2ofcf8RRg. Accessed 12 August 2016.

11.  Campbell, The Hero, p.58.

12.  Campbell, The Hero, p. 256.

13.  See, for example, discussion in Roland Barthes, Le Plaisir du texte (Paris: Seuil, 1973); Gérard Genette, Palimpsestes: la littérature au second degré  (Paris: Seuil, 1982).

14.  Egil Törnqvist, Between Stage and Screen: Ingmar Bergman Directs (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1995), p.15.

15.  Törnqvist, Between Stage and Screen, p.13.

16.  Stig Björkman,  Torsten Manns and Jonas Sima,  Bergman on Bergman (London: Secker & Warburg, 1973), p.66.

17.  Interview with Ron and Russell Mael, 25 June 2011.

18.  Törnqvist, Between Stage and Screen, p.198.

19.  Projected images created by Galen Johnson and Evan Johnson. See http://theseductionof  ingmarbergman.com/images.php.

20.  Björkman, Manns and Sima, Bergman on Bergman, p.103. Music and lyrics can be found at http//theseductionofingmarbergman.com/music.php and http//theseductionofingmarbergman.com/lyrics.php.

21.  Björkman, Manns and Sima, Bergman on Bergman, p.62.

22.  Campbell, The Hero, p.37.

23.  Campbell, The Hero, p.58.

24.  Björkman, Manns and Sima, Bergman on Bergman, p.133.

25.  Campbell, The Hero, p.77.

26.  Vogler, The Writer's Journey,  p.87.

27.  Joel W. Finler, The Hollywood  Story (London:Pyramid Books, 1989), p.13; p.35.

28.  Björkman, Manns and Sima, Bergman on Bergman,  p.50; Törnqvist, Between Stage and Screen, p.51.

29.  Vogler, The Writer's Journey, p.169.

30.  Andy Gill, The Independent review, 30/10/09, www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/reviews/album-sparks-the-seduction-of-ingmar-bergman-ll-beethoven1811482.html, accessed 12 August 2016.

31.  Vogler, The Writer's Journey, p.145.

32.  Billy Wilder, Sunset Boulevard (1950, Paramount); Alfred Hitchcock, The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934, Gaumont British Picture Corporation; 1956, Paramount, premiered at the 1956 Cannes Festival); Jacques Tourneur, Cat People (1942, RKO), F.W. Murnau, Sunrise, 1927, Fox); Edgar Ullmer, Detour (1945, PRC Pictures).

33.  Bergman 1971 interview with Dick Cavett; 2011 interview with Ron and Russel Mael.

34.  Vogler, The Writer's Journey, p.193.

35.  Vogler, The Writer's Journey, pp. 23-4.

36.  Campbell, The Hero, p.197.

37.  Björkman, Manns and Sima, Bergman on Bergman, p.48.

38.  Ron Mael, private communication,11 May 2016.

39.  Campbell, The Hero, p.214.

40.  See Lainna Fader, L. A. Record, 24 June 2011: larecord.com/interviews/2011/06/24/sparks-creating-its-own-universe-muscally, accessed 12 August 2016                    

41.  Ron Mael, private communication, 11 May 2016; L.A. Record 24 June 2011, see note 40.

42.  Ingmar Bergman, The Magic Lantern, New York and London, Penguin, 1998), p.240. He goes on to say that he then noticed flaws in her beauty.

43.  L.A Record, 24 June 2011, see note 40.

44.  Vogler, The Writer's Journey, pp. 223-225.

45.  Campbell, The Hero, p.193.

46.  Björkman, Manns and Sima, Bergman on Bergman, p.103.

47.  Philip Mosley, Ingmar Bergman: The Cinema as Mistress (London and Boston: Marion Boyars, 1981), p.19.

48.  Louis Pattison, BBC review 2009, see www.bbc.co.uk/musc/reviews/pgfd, retrieved 12 August 2016.

49.  Andy Gill, The Independent, 30 October 2009, see www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/reviews/album-sparks-the-seduction-of-ingmar-bergman-lil-beethoven-1811482 , retrieved 12 August 2016.

50.  25 June 2011 interview with Ron and Russell Mael.

 

Word count 7755

 

 

 

 

 

Sparks in Europe 2022   Magical moments and show stoppers

A live Sparks’ concert is always a special occasion, of course, and the eagerly awaited 16 dates tour of Europe in 2022 following close on the heels of the triumphant 18 dates US tour has been no exception. The progress of both tours was followed closely by fans worldwide by means of the many official photographs and the huge range of pictures and videos posted by those fortunate enough to have attended the concerts. These are some of the highlights which clearly captured the imagination of fans and added to Sparks lore, or which were unique to this tour.

That the tour went ahead at all was obviously a brave decision, as the Covid 19 pandemic was far from over in Europe. The issue of the safety and well-being of the band and the audience was foregrounded, with a plea from Sparks HQ posted on the official website for the wearing of masks, and repeated by venue information and announcements before each show.  Some concert pictures showed a sea of masks in the audience, but at some venues, the response was, frankly, disappointing to say the least.

However….

Visual delights

A major contribution to fans’ pleasure were the ‘before and after’ official photos posted on social media at each stage. Pictures of Ron and/or Russell at airports or other clearly signposted sites announced their safe arrival in each country and generated excitement for the forthcoming concert as the tour progressed. The ‘selfies’ taken at the end of each gig (some of which included the whole band) showed the full houses of ecstatic audiences, as well as a glimpse of the venues themselves. It was good to see a picture of the hard-working tour crew taken after the last concert in Vilnius, as it is easy to forget that an undertaking of this magnitude requires a lot of effort from many people behind the scenes.

Exciting Venues

The variety in venues was enormous, from the vast to the more intimate, the palatial to the utilitarian, the historic to the modern, some new to Sparks, others familiar from previous tours. At the Kultuuritalo in Helsinki (3 May), when Russell told the audience that they had played there in 1975, Ron bent double and put his head in his hands in disbelief that they should find themselves here again in 2022 (and riding the crest of a wave of high profiled success, moreover).  A fan at the front enthusiastically waved his original ticket for the 1975 gig, much to Russell’s delight.

A few venues brought special surprises - in Paris (19 April), Sparks were joined on stage by Catherine Trottmann, who was the voice of Anne for the opera arias in Annette, for the duet ‘We Love Each Other So Much’ with Russell.  In Hamburg (25 April), Russell treated the audience to an impromptu rendition of a verse from ‘Gone With the Wind’ at the end of the show after mentioning the songs he had written. Behind his back, Ron waved three fingers in the air. Such affectionate teasing is another side of the mutual admiration always evident in the closing speeches. There were surprises from the audience too. In Amsterdam (21 April), Ron was given a ‘Ron You’re Sexy ‘ placard, which he happily displayed during his dance and held for the end of show selfie. Fans in Brussels displayed a huge banner saying ‘Sparks is a chef d’oeuvre. Merci les frères’ at the end of the show. A surprise of a different kind in Berlin (24 April) which caused a lot of speculation on fan sites was Russell’s apparent altercation with a photographer who was too close to the stage during the opening number (‘So May We Start?’) – after a couple of warning kicks in his direction, Russell seemed to jump or slip off the edge of the stage, clambering back seconds later with only a slight hesitation in his singing. What happened there only those close enough to that corner will know!

Scintillating set list

              The extensive set list also held some surprises. Spanning all the decades of Sparks’ career, it included some numbers that have seldom been performed live and which were greeted with obvious delight (‘Under the Table with Her’, ‘I Married Myself’, ‘The Shopping Mall of Love’, ‘Music that You Can Dance to’) as well as one of the earliest, ‘Wonder Girl’, two songs from the most recent project, Annette (2021) and three from the latest album A Steady Drip, Drip, Drip (2020).  There are always many endearing moments in a Sparks’ performance, and amongst them on this tour were Russell sitting on a stool, Sinatra-style, for ‘Rhythm Thief’ and ‘I Married Myself’. During the latter, he produced a hand mirror and said ‘Hi Baby. How you doin’?’ and sang the rest of the song gazing lovingly at his reflection.  The faux modest posing of both Ron and Russell at the line ‘the authors are here and they’re a little vain’ in the opening number ‘So May We Start?’ appeared to delight the audiences everywhere. Russell’s astonishing energy never seemed to wane throughout the tour and his leaps were admiringly captured on camera by many fans. Ron’s dance is always a show-stopper, with its slowly built anticipation as he carefully removes and folds his jacket, but his monologue in ‘The Shopping Mall of Love’ also caught the imagination of fans this time. His facial expressions, and the repeated dead-pan ‘Yeah’, accompanied by a small fist pump were a great hit as the number of social media shares showed. Another treat was in Ron’s contribution to ‘Suburban Homeboy’, where various people were name-checked instead of Iverson in the ‘description’ of the singer’s girl: in Glasgow, it was Paul Thomson (the Scottish drummer with Franz Ferdinand, who may have been in the audience), in Paris it was Leos Carax and in London it was Sparks’ manager Sue Harris! Elsewhere, Ron reverted to Iverson, so perhaps the Sparks Celebrity Name-checking Research Team ran out of ideas!

Sartorial surprises

              Although the stage outfits were less flamboyant than in the past, Russell’s bright yellow pants and sleeveless jacket (worn alternately with a dark one) shone in the lights and fans’ interest was piqued by his lapel pins – the Hello Kitty face outline accompanied at times by others difficult to identify from a distance but seemingly including a Ukrainian flag. Perhaps the surprise element here was Ron’s sober, dark but stylish outfit of very wide-legged trousers and long jacket which was teamed with a dark polo neck, instead of the traditional tie. Hats were occasionally an unusual addition to the band’s look: Eli’s beret was much in evidence, and even Steve was spotted wearing a cap on one occasion. In Helsinki, Russell donned a white sailor-style graduation cap which feature in Finnish May Day celebrations, and in Vilnius, Ron too is seen briefly in a baseball cap with a local logo.

Spotlights and highlights

              The special effects were stunning, although they varied according to the different venues’ capabilities. Particularly memorable was the fanfare announcing the arrival of the band on stage which always generated excited cheering. The use of spotlights, especially those highlighting Ron at the keyboard (‘the mightiest hand’) were extremely effective and featured repeatedly in social media posts.

              Finally, the end of show speeches: inevitably there was some variation and comments specific to the relevant country (Russell’s listing in Finnish of his favourite things amused the Helsinki audience again). A constant was Russell’s shout-out to the band, warmly extolling the talents of each member (Evan Weiss and Eli Pearl on guitars, Max Whipple on bass, Steve Nistor on drums and Tyler Parkford on additional keyboards.) This included, of course, a heartfelt tribute to his brother’s song-writing skills.  Both Russell and Ron also spoke of the experiences of lockdown, the highs and lows of their earlier career, their thrill at the recent reception of The Sparks Brothers and Annette and their profound appreciation of the loyalty of fans and the reception they have received everywhere during this tour.  Most exciting were the promises of further live performances, a nearly finished new album and a new movie musical.

              All Sparks’ fans will have had their favourite moments from these concerts (even those who for various reasons were only able to attend ‘virtually’) but these, to me, are some of the most striking.

So, may we start …..to hope that it won’t be too long before more magical moments, show-stoppers and jaw-droppers come our way from the forever young Maels?

 

Penny Brown

May 2022

 

 

                    'What was that?' Four of Sparks' songs for Mai the Psychic Girl

 

            Fans of Sparks will be aware of the years Ron and Russell spent in the late 1980s and early 1990s devising a movie musical of the Japanese manga comic Mai the Psychic Girl and attempting to find the funding and support to bring it to the screen. Unfortunately, in the highly competitive, mercurial and cut-throat world of movie making, the venture never came to fruition at that time despite attracting the interest of several eminent directors.  Little detail is known about the project itself apart from some information given in interviews and other online sources, and this is largely about the practical difficulties. Of the two hours or so of music written, four of the songs are, however, in the public domain and can be listened to on YouTube. This brief discussion is intended to offer some insight into the story for Sparks fans who may not know the manga and wonder what is going on in the songs, and to suggest ways in which the songs may be seen to relate to it, in the hope that this will enhance enjoyment of these multi-layered pieces.

 

            Without sight of a screenplay or knowledge about Ron's and Russell's overall artistic vision for the movie, it is of course difficult to determine exactly which specific events in the story the songs, or musical fragments, represent, if indeed they do.  Aspects of the plot will doubtlessly have been omitted, enhanced or given different emphasis, and the venture seemingly produced more than one screenplay.  However, it is possible to identify the ways in which these songs, which reveal many typical Sparks elements, capture the mood and essential themes of the manga story and provide an inspiring musical equivalent of the images. I should state, of course, that the interpretations here are my own suggestions based on a reading of the manga comic in conjunction with the music, and can not claim to be a definitive representation of what Ron and Russell may have intended. Other interpretations would be welcome!

 

A brief summary

 

            The translation into English of Mai the Psychic Girl, with story by Kazuya Kudo and art by Ryoichi Ikegami, appeared in the United States in 28 bi-weekly issues between May 1987 and July 1988 published by California's Eclipse Comics and Viz Communications and was the one of the first manga to be introduced to the American comics market. It was printed in the 'flipped' format for the Western market so that it could read from left to right. The story was republished by Viz Comics in a four volume edition in1989 and again in 1995 in the three volume 'Perfect Collection' and can now be read free online. The plot concerns a fourteen-year -old motherless Japanese girl, Mai Kuju, with extraordinary telekinetic powers whose existence is discovered by a sinister organization called the Wisdom Alliance which, it turns out, has been manipulating world affairs (including the Second World War). Having predicted that the world is heading for a nuclear cataclysm in 1999 in a conflict between the Soviet Union and the United States, the Alliance has been secretly testing youngsters for psychic powers and plans to kidnap and hide those with the highest scores to start humanity anew with a more powerful and god-like race. Mai spends the majority of the manga on the run from the Alliance, eluding them in increasingly violent encounters. She is assisted by various helpers, notably a college boy Intetsu and his fellow students, and villain-turned-alternative father figure Kaieda, a martial arts expert, until she reluctantly becomes involved in monumental battles with four other psychic youngsters (American, German, Chinese and Vietnamese) sent by the Alliance to kill her.

 

The attraction

 

            It is not difficult to see why this particular manga comic with its dramatic plot and stunning, detailed artwork captured the imagination of Ron and Russell, and why it was, and still is, an attractive proposition for a movie given the continuing interest in super-heroes, monsters, megalomaniac villains and evil international conspiracies.  It has spectacular car and motor-cycle chases and martial arts battles that would make superb cinema, a wide range of intriguing relationships, humour and (spoiler alert) an ambiguously happy ending.  The plot of an individual being pursued by an unknown and deadly force, who triumphs over evil by the deployment of supernatural powers is by no means a new one. Mai was unusual, however, in both American comics and Japanese shonen or action manga, in that it features a young and innocent schoolgirl, the offspring of a long line of women with telekinetic powers, who is unaware of the full significance and scope of her inheritance and who is reluctant to engage in conflicts which she neither wants nor understands. This allows for a strong psychological dimension in the portrayal of adolescent anxiety about identity (a theme that, of course, informs many Sparks songs), with Mai's struggle to come to terms not just with all kinds of new emotions, but the realization that she can cause death and destruction in an instant and must learn to control her powers to harness them to a good end. They are said to be equal to that of a small atomic bomb with the firing button the mind of a fourteen year old girl who does not yet know how to control her emotions. She is contrasted with the other psychic youngsters, especially the German girl Turm Garten, the self-centred teenager from hell, who uses her psychic powers viciously to wreak revenge on anyone who upsets her and whom Mai is eventually forced, against her will, to liquidate to save herself.

 

            In his book When Manga Came To America. Super-Hero Revisionism in Mai the Psychic Girl (2014), Julian Darius argues that Mai fitted into the revisionist movement in the 1980s in America that sought to make comic books and their heroes more realistic. Mai has no superhero alter ego in fancy dress, her powers are mental rather than physical, and her appearance is believably that of an adolescent  unlike the stylised figures with huge eyes and extravagant hair associated with much manga material. The supernatural events take place in a very realistically depicted world. Ryoichi Ikegami's superb artwork excels in action scenes set against the backdrop of highly detailed Tokyo cityscapes, especially the flying scenes in which the battle between Mai and the three telekinetic boys in the air amongst the skyscrapers is portrayed moment by moment from constantly changing perspectives. Such 'photorealism', and the fact that the most dramatic or emotional scenes take place over several panels and pages, creates the effect of slow motion captured in still images or movie frames. The pace of the narrative is varied with stretches of calm, sad or humorous scenes as respite from the dramatic and often extremely violent action. It is true that twenty-first century sensibilities would require some changes to the narrative.  Although Mai, and indeed most of the Japanese characters, are Westernized in appearance, as is common in manga comics, there is unfortunate ethnic stereotyping in the portrayal of the Chinese and Vietnamese psychic teenagers.  Moreover, although the blatant sexual aspect that pervades many manga comic books is largely absent, the tearing of Mai's clothes to reveal her breasts in the final battle seems to smack of gratuitous 'fan service'. An early scene in which Mai is seen naked in the bath, scrutinizing her breasts, was in fact omitted from the early American comic book edition.

 

The music

           

            Now for the music. Like many Sparks' songs, the four pieces written for Mai are complex compositions, merging sung and spoken words, sound effects and repetitive verbal and musical refrains. There is a narrative underpinning to each piece (again, as in Sparks' songs) and together they can be seen to evoke four different aspects of the story. The voices heard are those of Christi Haydon as Mai, and, of course, Russell together with other male and female voices. In an interview in which she discusses her involvement with the Mai project, Christi Haydon mentions that Jane Wiedlin and Lance Loud were also involved in making the demos.

 

'She used to be one of us'

 

            'She used to be one of us' clearly introduces the central theme of difference, and the growing awareness of both Mai and her schoolfriends that, although in many ways she is just like them, in one significant way, she is not. The early pages of the manga show Mai daydreaming at school and  walking home with her friends who are chattering about  class tests and boys. Although forbidden by her father to use her telekinetic powers, she does so in a benign fashion to amuse herself: causing a pine cone to fall from a tree and stop in its tracks,  creating artistic swirls of cherry blossoms, and stopping a baseball in mid air to bewilder the school team. Later, when in hiding from her enemies, she secretly watches her friends pass by  then wanders into a park and sits on a swing, feeling unhappy, lonely and isolated because she dare not involve her friends in the nightmare engulfing her. This touching moment is charmingly resolved as she is rescued from depression by the appearance of a small dog presciently named Ron in the English translation (yes, really),who becomes her devoted companion. Ron (the puppy, that is) is the source of much heart-warming humour in the story but also the catalyst for the first destructive unleashing of Mai's powers as she unintentionally causes carnage on the freeway to stop him from being run over. It is a crucial moment, when the unexpected consequences of her actions change her view of herself and cause her to fear her capabilities.  This song, with its girlish voices, sets the scene by capturing the contrast between normality and exceptionality: it begins with a repetitive background beat and eager melody that seems to mimic the scurrying footsteps of the schoolgirls as one of them lists the ways in which Mai used to be like them ('we'd hang around, bang around, play around all the time'). They see that she is now different, 'stranger than just strange', but do not know why: 'is this her evil twin, or just some mood she's in?', a nice juxtaposition that suggests more than they, or the listener/reader can know at this stage. The focus shifts to Mai's point of view signalled by a slowing of the music and a change in the beat. It is preceded by muted bursts of cheering, applause and male laughter which are perplexing. They may suggest the episodes in which she joins the college boys in Intetsu's student house in comic scenes of cooking and clothes washing before amazing them by causing piles of books to fly around the room, or secretly controls a fruit machine in an arcade in front of an astonished crowd so that Intetsu wins enough money to get them both back to Tokyo after rescuing her from a man-monster who almost kills her father.  But this middle section of the song, against a background of cheering, seems almost as though Mai is addressing an audience while demonstrating her skills in a public performance, although there is no such scene in the manga: 'Thank you very much' she says to wild applause. This section presumably accompanies a scene developed for the screenplay and is intriguing. She even speaks briefly in French! Mai then reiterates her friends' song in terms that reveal her awareness of how her 'problem' has changed her life: 'I'd mess around, try to impress around all day … now I blow up cars, and feel like I'm from Mars'.  The points of view merge at the end as the beat slows and the girls' voices return: 'Oh my (Mai), oh dear.... stand back, stand clear... She's gone, I've gone WEIRD'. The schoolgirl vocabulary is touching in its inadequate attempt to fathom and articulate her plight. The light-hearted scenes in in the comic in which Mai uses her powers are an entertaining contrast to both the dramatic scenes in her story and the usual exploits of comic book superheroes, and in the song, the applause and cheering form a poignant contrast with her gradual and painful self-realization.

 

'That looks great on  you'

 

            This song strikes a totally different note, building on the theme of fun, freedom and a sense of normality that, in the story, Mai briefly experiences with Intetsu and his friends. The happy evocation of a clothes shopping expedition, which does not appear as such in the manga, is typical of the humorous scenes that offer respite after dramatic events. A duet between Russell and Christi Haydon against a cheerful orchestral background featuring strings and percussion, it features the mutual admiring flattery of excited young people trying on clothes and chattering about customizing them ('take it in, or let it out'), while gently satirising the situation. His comment that a garment  'makes you look years younger, makes you several inches taller' is obviously amusing given he is addressing a fourteen year old high school girl. Perhaps this is intended as a parody of an over-eager salesman with his increasingly exaggerated compliments. There is also an undertone of developing sexual awareness on Mai's part which is gently suggested in the manga: when the male voice says that 'it makes you look romantic, makes you seem exotic', her enthusiastic reply foregrounds the physical and erotic. His 'great for work or play and, of course, its patriotic!' is comically salesman-like but, if this is Intetsu speaking, it could be seen as gently evasive, just as in the manga he abruptly changes the subject when Mai asks him why he hasn't got a girlriend. The final 'Charge? Cash? Cheque? What'll it be?' does suggest that Russell is playing a salesman at this point, but also recalls the moment in the story when Mai realises that she and Intetsu can not use her father's bank card and resort to trying their luck on the fruit machines.

 

'What was that?'

           

            'What was that?', which begins with ominous percussion and a strange, eery, howling noise alongside a female voice's wordless song, could effectively accompany a  number of the encounters that Mai has with the heavies from the Wisdom Alliance and, at one point when she and Intetsu are fleeing on his motor-cycle, with huge numbers of pursuing police. It evokes confusion, bewilderment and panic. In all the confrontations, the men are confounded by her ability to evade them, either with outside help, or by the exercise of her psychic powers and frequently meet violent ends themselves. The girl's wordless song at the beginning perhaps suggests these powers, while the question 'Do you hear humming?' and the urgent, overlapping repetitions of  'What was that?' with different emphases indicate the mens' inability to understand what they are facing even while they think they are 'getting closer' in their pursuit. The 'humming' may allude to the wordless song, or even to the flying scenes involving Mai and the other psychic youngsters, but also evokes the many strange onomatopoeic 'sound words' that are used abundantly to accompany action in manga comics. (Sparks fans will, of course, also be familiar with the dynamic role played by sound effects in their music.) At the end of the piece there is the sound of falling, a motif that features in a number of episodes in the story. In one, the huge man-monster dropped from a helicopter to kill Mai and her father as they cross a narrow mountain ledge, knocks her father to an apparently certain death in the abyss. In the final great battle, Mai is blasted from the sky by the American psychic boy David, but not before she is able to blast him in return so that he crashes to his death on the pavement below. Mai herself is saved from a similar fate in the nick of time by the little Vietnamese teenager Hong, whom she had tried to befriend. This composition ends dramatically with the sound of vehicles screeching and crashing, a frequent consequence of the pursuit scenes, which often cover several pages in graphic detail. The changes in pace and the mixture of disparate sounds here do, in fact, superbly communicate the essence of the drama and suspense of the manga. 

 

'The Patchwork Symphony: The Wake up'

           

            Finally, 'The Patchwork Symphony: the Wake-Up ', is the most difficult piece to interpret. It may, as its name suggests, be a compilation of sound images and repetitions that allude to many of the story's themes. A fundamental theme in the book is, of course, Mai's awakening to her real identity and destiny, and elements in this composition suggest this idea. The story does, in fact, begin with Mai waking from a recurring nightmare of being pursued through a forest by unknown forces and surrounded by strange 'woooohhhh' noises, which are later associated with the headquarters in the Swiss Alps of the Wisdom Aliance.  The piece begins with a ticking clock and the sound of raindrops, recalling another episode in which Mai wakes up at the home of  Intetsu's sometime girlfriend where they have taken refuge, and decides to leave secretly because she fears that the woman may deliberately try to provoke her to show her destructive power. These sounds are followed by a siren, blaring horns and an indistinct voice through a megaphone against the background of a repeated rhythmic piano refrain (reminiscent of the pursuit scenes in the later The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman). A female voice (whether this is intended to be Mai, her dead mother who appears to her in a vision, or a narrator is unclear) then repeatedly intones: 'The idea that his daughter is having something to do with a creature...', which suggests Mai's father's anxiety at his full realization of the implications of her inherited powers. The father/daughter relationship is an important theme in the story, and much of the action derives from his attempts to protect Mai. The creature may refer to the man-monster who nearly killed him (and who turns out to be the son of Kaieda,  the victim of an American nuclear experiment!). Into this mood of suspense and anxiety, the same voice repeatedly advises that 'You just have to work it out as best you can'. This echoes both Mai's mother's warning that her powers can bring sorrow or joy and that she must persevere and face her destiny alone, and Intetsu's advice about learning to control her powers, just as all human beings must learn to control that part of their nature that can cause pain and suffering. The theme of nascent sexuality, although not prominent in the book, is suggested here by the words that 'I think that a man can be interested in you physically. He can also have real true feelings about you'. It is unclear who the speaker is here, but the theme of relationships is also important throughout the story. The schoolgirls are preoccupied with the idea of boyfriends, and it is clear that Mai is attracted to Intetsu and jealous of his fashion designer girlfriend, although both he and the college boys seem only to care about protecting and helping her. The last verbal intervention seems to come from Mai: her words 'there are about nineteen subjects I'd love to discuss with you' are intriguing. They could be seen to refer to her desire to communicate with her mother or to her final confrontation in the air above Tokyo with David. In the story, she tries to persuade him that it is not too late to defy the Wisdom Alliance and that she would rather talk with him than fight, before his psychic blast sends her tumbling from the sky and forces her to retaliate against her will and kill him with a blast in return.  The tragic aspect of the youngsters' psychic abilities becomes clear in this episode. The piece ends abruptly with the sound of sirens and the repetition of the words 'work it out', which suit Mai's unresolved situation at the end.

 

             I hope that this whets the appetite of Sparks fans to learn more about Mai the psychic girl. It is a great read, and has an important place in the history of manga comics in the West, and clearly made a powerful on the Maels such that they were willing to devote so much of their time and effort to trying to get their musical version made into a movie. As always, they were ahead of the times, as manga comics and anime have since become hugely popular in the West.  The musical extracts from Mai also contain many of the techniques, in terms of both music and lyrics, that have become familiar to fans in Sparks' later work, and which were to surface again in their other musical movie venture, The Seduction of  Ingmar Bergman. It would be good if Ron and Russell were to make more of the music from Mai available for fans to enjoy. In the meantime, listen to these four pieces again and indulge your imagination!

 

 

Penny Brown