Dreamgirls - Melos: Art As Embarrassment
Thoughts On: Dreamgirls (2006)
A girl group in the 60s and 70s struggles to 'make it' as musicians, as artists, as good people.
Dreamgirls' greatest strength and biggest weakness is that the music never stops. Whilst not all of the songs are great, the film maintains a strong sense of rhythm and pace by essentially sprinting between musical set-pieces. This is a wise directorial choice made by Condon. However, it is one very clearly predicated on an absolute lack of confidence in the script's dramatological quality and the non-musical performance abilities of the cast. Alas, what Dreamgirls stands as is a fascinating example of is how melodrama so often embodies the concept that art is the epitome of embarrassment.
Melodramatic forms of cinema construct life out of, and in favour of, assumption. These assumptions are not pulled out of the blue, but their veracity can often be questionable. In Dreamgirls, for example, we are told a semi-true story about The Supremes. Never committing to a biographical exploration of the group's career, Dreamgirls uses melodrama to construct a story that seems right, that is based on fact, but is subservient to bias - to assumption. This is not a documentary and film is not obliged to construct literal truths--I do not wish to argue this, nor criticise the film on this basis. However, in my estimation, mainstream forms of cinema are, for the most part, of this assumptuous character. This is a result, again, in my estimation, of the nature of writing. A common dictum is as follows: write what you know. Writers almost never do this directly; what they know is wrapped up in what they know of a given medium. As a result, hand-in-hand with personal mimetic expression is self-reflexive mimetic expression; a writer attempting to write what they know whilst imitating other writers they respect or simply drawing inspiration from a medial zeitgeist, which is to say, intentionally 'writing a film' - 'film' being defined by films that the writer has seen, by what they feel a film is and must do. This process becomes more complicated when genre and, especially so, sub-genre becomes a significant factor in a narrative. If one is to, for example, write a cop film or a mob movie, it is not likely that they are either a mobster or a policeman/woman. Research they may, but there is inevitably going to be a significant 'genreism' about their final draft: they are going to write a cop film or a mob movie based on everything they have seen before, are going to assume mobs work a certain way, that cops speak a certain way, do certain things. It is the fact that Goodfellas does not do this as intensely as the vast majority of mob movies that came before it that it is such a special film; furthermore, it is because Goodfellas isn't as assumptuous as, for example Scarface (the 30s or 80s version), that the vast majority of the movie sees our characters break the world down for us. That is the subtle spectacle of Goodfellas; we are going to, finally, get a truthful look at the underworld. And because Goodfellas delivers satisfactorily, it has become a classic.
If we draw up 3 movies to compare, we can expand a little. Let us consider Goodfellas alongside Scarface (1983) alongside The Godfather. Here we have three different mob movies from a similar era, made by directors who are closely related contemporaries. Each is a classic in its own respect, but what are these three respects? As suggested, Scarface is a melodrama. Its success is based on its presentation of assumed truth that resonates with the audience's own assumptions and desires: we assume, when we let our imaginations run wild, that mobsters are insane and murderous, that they have tigers in their back gardens and sniff blow by the fistful. Goodfellas does not do this. Goodfellas sits us down and tells us, "This is how it really is, kid..." The brilliance of this, however, is that eventually some of our presumptions turn out to be true and our desires seem to match with an apparent reality; mobsters are pretty violent and murderous, they can get hooked on a lot of drugs, they might even try to feed a guy to a pack of lions or tigers in a zoo. Now let us think about The Godfather. This is something of a melodrama, but it is not assumptuous like Scarface is; this is made profoundly clear by the considerable lack of spectacle - compare "Imma make him an offer he can't refuse..." to "SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!!" However, The Godfather doesn't necessarily sit us down and say "This is how it really is," rather, we are told, "Sit down, I'm going to tell you a story." This story may not be the truth, but it will capture the essence of truth via its own constructs of reality - and such is the essence of classical storytelling: the truth is in there somewhere--you'll feel it.
Having compared our three mob movies, we can begin to suggest that there are different ways of presenting truth through melodrama, and each is predicated on the manner in which a cinematic reality is constructed. Scarface's cinematic reality is wholly asssumptuous and, let's say, imaginatively construed. Goodfellas' cinematic reality seems to have stronger foundations in real-world truth; this truth, however, is presented as and selected because it appears to be rather unbelievable (hence there is a relationship between our expectations of the film and its delivery of fact; the two are not completely separate, as they would be in a work committed to the truth alone). Lastly, The Godfather is not concerned with objective truth and is simultaneously not distracted by the more frivolous desires of its audience; it means to strike something profound and deep by finding truth through contrivance of an 'artistic' (meaning, I would suppose, serious) character.
Dreamgirls is closer related to Scarface than it is to Goodfellas, but it exists in between the two in its presentation of melodramatic truth. What Dreamgirls does different, dramaturgically, to these mob movies, however, is explore truth of an embarrassing character. Such, to me, is the brilliance of the film and many like it. Like Rocky, Amélie, Gone With The Wind, Queen and 8 1/2 (some of my favourite films), Dreamgirls does not deal with that which can be comfortably spoken about in an even slightly judgemental context. That is to say that these films are, in part, about admitting, succumbing to and sometimes overcoming weakness - or what you might call you own humanity. Let us stay with Dreamgirls. Dreamgirls is a film about retaining the abstract 'soul' of music. My favourite sequence in the film is the scene in which Beyoncé sings the song that punctuates the emergence of her soul, that encompasses her individuation, and essentially sees Beyoncé sing like we know she can:
This is a significant scene as it exemplifies the degree to which this is not concerned with telling the true story of The Supremes. Furthermore, it emphasises the melodramatic assumtuousness in the film by giving our main character a hero arc that we desire, by seeing her rather literally claim her own space and use her voice to do just so. Despite its clear contrivance, this is an incredibly powerful song and scene that, seen in the context of the wider film, I found deeply affecting. We must lay this triumph at the feet of melos; music and musical drama.
Melos is contrivance, is art making harmony out of life; it is, beyond all else, reprieve: the world, for once, works as we wish it to, and such can almost bring you to tears. This is what I personally experience in films such as Rocky, Amélie, Gone With The Wind, etc. Capitalising on the essence of melos almost masterfully, this scene, and to some degree, Dreamgirls as a whole, then plays to imagination - a dichotomy of hope and anxiety. We may sum this idea up simply by calling Dreamgirls a 'feel-good' movie, but let it not be overlooked that there is more to 'feel-good' than a hop in one's step and a happy ending. Great feel-good films, silly as they can sometimes be, intimately interact with, if we were to loosely use Freudian terminology, eros: a death anxiety and a desperation for life. This stands in face of more stoic melodrama, which a film such as The Godfather embodies, and which we could argue intimately interacts with, if we were to again loosely use Freudian terminology, thanatos: a death drive and a futile subversion of pleasures and life.
It is because the melodrama in a film such as Dreamgirls does so intimately interact with human desires for triumph, for our hopes to overcome our anxieties, that it revels in emotion of an embarrassing kind. What we see in the above sequence is our main character express these cripplingly embarrassing emotions, but, she does so with resolve and so demonstrates great strength. (This, as a slight side-note, is the great truth that Beyoncé's archetypal, abstract, demi-god-esque character embodies). This strength that Beyoncé's character exudes is so touching for the fact that we wish we could express it, that we are so glad she can and is expressing what we wish we could, what we are feeling by proxy. Such, then, implies why Dreamgirls is a perfect exemplar of a philosophy of art as the epitome of embarrassment.
Before we leave this subject, I wish to express the shadow to this form of cinema. Dreamgirls and feel-good films alike are predicated on the transformation of weakness into strength, and they succeed because we want to experience just this: anxiety overcome by hope. Alas, truth... truth remains crucial to all mimetic expressions. Truth can be contrived and manipulated, yet still represent 'the truth' well enough. There is a threshold that can be crossed, however, one that sees contrived truth become a lie. We see this in insipid melodramas such as The Greatest Showman.
A sequence such as this is clearly imitative of the kind of scene shown previously. However, whilst it may work its melos hard, it has no truth and no character of a convincing nature. Preying upon embarrassment and anxiety, this song embodies the ways in which The Greatest Showman captures weakness and forcibly and obnoxiously rebrands this as strength. Far more could be said about this piece of sub-cinematic trash, but I present it briefly as the shadow within melodrama, that which does not capture truth, merely plays with weakness.
Having covered quite a few different angles of our subject today, I leave things with you. What are your thoughts on melodrama and art as embarrassment?
Previous post:
End Of The Week Shorts #81
Next post:
All Out Life - Ignorable
More from me:
amazon.com/author/danielslack
A girl group in the 60s and 70s struggles to 'make it' as musicians, as artists, as good people.
Dreamgirls' greatest strength and biggest weakness is that the music never stops. Whilst not all of the songs are great, the film maintains a strong sense of rhythm and pace by essentially sprinting between musical set-pieces. This is a wise directorial choice made by Condon. However, it is one very clearly predicated on an absolute lack of confidence in the script's dramatological quality and the non-musical performance abilities of the cast. Alas, what Dreamgirls stands as is a fascinating example of is how melodrama so often embodies the concept that art is the epitome of embarrassment.
Melodramatic forms of cinema construct life out of, and in favour of, assumption. These assumptions are not pulled out of the blue, but their veracity can often be questionable. In Dreamgirls, for example, we are told a semi-true story about The Supremes. Never committing to a biographical exploration of the group's career, Dreamgirls uses melodrama to construct a story that seems right, that is based on fact, but is subservient to bias - to assumption. This is not a documentary and film is not obliged to construct literal truths--I do not wish to argue this, nor criticise the film on this basis. However, in my estimation, mainstream forms of cinema are, for the most part, of this assumptuous character. This is a result, again, in my estimation, of the nature of writing. A common dictum is as follows: write what you know. Writers almost never do this directly; what they know is wrapped up in what they know of a given medium. As a result, hand-in-hand with personal mimetic expression is self-reflexive mimetic expression; a writer attempting to write what they know whilst imitating other writers they respect or simply drawing inspiration from a medial zeitgeist, which is to say, intentionally 'writing a film' - 'film' being defined by films that the writer has seen, by what they feel a film is and must do. This process becomes more complicated when genre and, especially so, sub-genre becomes a significant factor in a narrative. If one is to, for example, write a cop film or a mob movie, it is not likely that they are either a mobster or a policeman/woman. Research they may, but there is inevitably going to be a significant 'genreism' about their final draft: they are going to write a cop film or a mob movie based on everything they have seen before, are going to assume mobs work a certain way, that cops speak a certain way, do certain things. It is the fact that Goodfellas does not do this as intensely as the vast majority of mob movies that came before it that it is such a special film; furthermore, it is because Goodfellas isn't as assumptuous as, for example Scarface (the 30s or 80s version), that the vast majority of the movie sees our characters break the world down for us. That is the subtle spectacle of Goodfellas; we are going to, finally, get a truthful look at the underworld. And because Goodfellas delivers satisfactorily, it has become a classic.
If we draw up 3 movies to compare, we can expand a little. Let us consider Goodfellas alongside Scarface (1983) alongside The Godfather. Here we have three different mob movies from a similar era, made by directors who are closely related contemporaries. Each is a classic in its own respect, but what are these three respects? As suggested, Scarface is a melodrama. Its success is based on its presentation of assumed truth that resonates with the audience's own assumptions and desires: we assume, when we let our imaginations run wild, that mobsters are insane and murderous, that they have tigers in their back gardens and sniff blow by the fistful. Goodfellas does not do this. Goodfellas sits us down and tells us, "This is how it really is, kid..." The brilliance of this, however, is that eventually some of our presumptions turn out to be true and our desires seem to match with an apparent reality; mobsters are pretty violent and murderous, they can get hooked on a lot of drugs, they might even try to feed a guy to a pack of lions or tigers in a zoo. Now let us think about The Godfather. This is something of a melodrama, but it is not assumptuous like Scarface is; this is made profoundly clear by the considerable lack of spectacle - compare "Imma make him an offer he can't refuse..." to "SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!!" However, The Godfather doesn't necessarily sit us down and say "This is how it really is," rather, we are told, "Sit down, I'm going to tell you a story." This story may not be the truth, but it will capture the essence of truth via its own constructs of reality - and such is the essence of classical storytelling: the truth is in there somewhere--you'll feel it.
Having compared our three mob movies, we can begin to suggest that there are different ways of presenting truth through melodrama, and each is predicated on the manner in which a cinematic reality is constructed. Scarface's cinematic reality is wholly asssumptuous and, let's say, imaginatively construed. Goodfellas' cinematic reality seems to have stronger foundations in real-world truth; this truth, however, is presented as and selected because it appears to be rather unbelievable (hence there is a relationship between our expectations of the film and its delivery of fact; the two are not completely separate, as they would be in a work committed to the truth alone). Lastly, The Godfather is not concerned with objective truth and is simultaneously not distracted by the more frivolous desires of its audience; it means to strike something profound and deep by finding truth through contrivance of an 'artistic' (meaning, I would suppose, serious) character.
Dreamgirls is closer related to Scarface than it is to Goodfellas, but it exists in between the two in its presentation of melodramatic truth. What Dreamgirls does different, dramaturgically, to these mob movies, however, is explore truth of an embarrassing character. Such, to me, is the brilliance of the film and many like it. Like Rocky, Amélie, Gone With The Wind, Queen and 8 1/2 (some of my favourite films), Dreamgirls does not deal with that which can be comfortably spoken about in an even slightly judgemental context. That is to say that these films are, in part, about admitting, succumbing to and sometimes overcoming weakness - or what you might call you own humanity. Let us stay with Dreamgirls. Dreamgirls is a film about retaining the abstract 'soul' of music. My favourite sequence in the film is the scene in which Beyoncé sings the song that punctuates the emergence of her soul, that encompasses her individuation, and essentially sees Beyoncé sing like we know she can:
This is a significant scene as it exemplifies the degree to which this is not concerned with telling the true story of The Supremes. Furthermore, it emphasises the melodramatic assumtuousness in the film by giving our main character a hero arc that we desire, by seeing her rather literally claim her own space and use her voice to do just so. Despite its clear contrivance, this is an incredibly powerful song and scene that, seen in the context of the wider film, I found deeply affecting. We must lay this triumph at the feet of melos; music and musical drama.
Melos is contrivance, is art making harmony out of life; it is, beyond all else, reprieve: the world, for once, works as we wish it to, and such can almost bring you to tears. This is what I personally experience in films such as Rocky, Amélie, Gone With The Wind, etc. Capitalising on the essence of melos almost masterfully, this scene, and to some degree, Dreamgirls as a whole, then plays to imagination - a dichotomy of hope and anxiety. We may sum this idea up simply by calling Dreamgirls a 'feel-good' movie, but let it not be overlooked that there is more to 'feel-good' than a hop in one's step and a happy ending. Great feel-good films, silly as they can sometimes be, intimately interact with, if we were to loosely use Freudian terminology, eros: a death anxiety and a desperation for life. This stands in face of more stoic melodrama, which a film such as The Godfather embodies, and which we could argue intimately interacts with, if we were to again loosely use Freudian terminology, thanatos: a death drive and a futile subversion of pleasures and life.
It is because the melodrama in a film such as Dreamgirls does so intimately interact with human desires for triumph, for our hopes to overcome our anxieties, that it revels in emotion of an embarrassing kind. What we see in the above sequence is our main character express these cripplingly embarrassing emotions, but, she does so with resolve and so demonstrates great strength. (This, as a slight side-note, is the great truth that Beyoncé's archetypal, abstract, demi-god-esque character embodies). This strength that Beyoncé's character exudes is so touching for the fact that we wish we could express it, that we are so glad she can and is expressing what we wish we could, what we are feeling by proxy. Such, then, implies why Dreamgirls is a perfect exemplar of a philosophy of art as the epitome of embarrassment.
Before we leave this subject, I wish to express the shadow to this form of cinema. Dreamgirls and feel-good films alike are predicated on the transformation of weakness into strength, and they succeed because we want to experience just this: anxiety overcome by hope. Alas, truth... truth remains crucial to all mimetic expressions. Truth can be contrived and manipulated, yet still represent 'the truth' well enough. There is a threshold that can be crossed, however, one that sees contrived truth become a lie. We see this in insipid melodramas such as The Greatest Showman.
A sequence such as this is clearly imitative of the kind of scene shown previously. However, whilst it may work its melos hard, it has no truth and no character of a convincing nature. Preying upon embarrassment and anxiety, this song embodies the ways in which The Greatest Showman captures weakness and forcibly and obnoxiously rebrands this as strength. Far more could be said about this piece of sub-cinematic trash, but I present it briefly as the shadow within melodrama, that which does not capture truth, merely plays with weakness.
Having covered quite a few different angles of our subject today, I leave things with you. What are your thoughts on melodrama and art as embarrassment?
Previous post:
End Of The Week Shorts #81
Next post:
All Out Life - Ignorable
More from me:
amazon.com/author/danielslack
