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Dirty old musicians need love too
Review: Music from the Inside Out
By Steve Warren
Staff Reviewer
 | | Hey buddy, don't look so down... |
In the comic Peanuts, Lucy used to say, after being blown off by Schroeder, "Musicians
aren't real people." She might not have thought that if she'd seen
Music from the Inside Out, Daniel Anker's documentary that shows the human
side of several of the 105 members of the Philadelphia Orchestra.
Their varied musical tastes—including jazz, Latin, bluegrass, opera
and world music—will give you hope for a classical concert career for
that youngster who's being fed a steady stream of rap through his iPod.
Although some musicians mention being teased when they were kids, the
net effect of the movie may be to encourage your child to practice. Be
careful about pushing them, though. Two Asians who might be viewed as
stereotypical prodigies had opposite reactions. David learned to play
because his mother forced him to, but Hirono started playing out of rebellion
when her mother told her she shouldn't.
While they work in one of the world's best orchestras playing some of
the most beautiful music ever written, Nitzan jams in a Latin band in
a club after concerts. Adam, whose degree is in jazz, runs in marathons
in his off hours. Zack and his brother Jason fiddle in a bluegrass band.
Israel-born Udi initiated a musical collaboration—they don't discuss
politics—with Arab Simon Shaheen to bring Jews and Arabs together through
cultural exchange.
Then there's Judy, who must be the Philadelphia's answer to Shirley MacLaine.
In addition to relating colors to feelings to an extreme degree, she says
she time-trips when she plays, experiencing the lives of the composers.
Everything about Music from the Inside Out screams, "Tonight on
PBS...," right down to the arbitrary division into three parts—
"Finding a Voice," "Between the Notes," "The
Sum of the Parts"—(plus an introduction) to allow for pledge breaks.
The film's educational value is diminished because the orchestral music
we hear isn't identified, even when it's discussed and analyzed.
Perhaps I'm just jealous, but I got the feeling Anker was using the film
as an excuse to write off some unnecessary travels when he shows snapshots
of the orchestra in Poland, France, England, Switzerland, Germany, Japan
and China. The only thing worth including is composer Tan Dun rehearsing
with the orchestra in Shanghai. A German street musician playing "The
Four Seasons" on an accordion is no more deserving of screen time
than a street musician in Philadelphia with a glass harmonica.
Most of the comments, some delivered conversationally in what looks like
a therapy group, are about the impact of music on those who play it and
those who hear it. They will affect different listeners differently, but
I felt like too often the people with the least to say are given the most
time to say it.
The transcendent beauty of the orchestra's playing, though often relegated
to the background, overcomes all my quibbles about how the film is put
together; and if you can't express how it makes you feel, somewhere in
all the chatter someone will say it exactly the way you wish you could.
Steve Warren is a local actor and film reviewer. His reviews can also be seen weekly in the Sunday Paper.
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