Isadora

One of the better biopics thanks in large part to a stunning performance from Vanessa Redgrave in the title role of "Isadora" and meticulous direction from Karel Reisz who obviously knew what he was doing and displayed an obvious affection for his subject. It's intelligent and it looks great and there's a fine supporting cast so with all this going for it why does it feel like a very high-class soap opera? Perhaps because all biopics can finally do nothing but reduce their subject's lives to a series of melodramatic incidents or 'highlights'. Perhaps because most famous people's lives are dull most of the time and it's only the melodramatic incidents that people are interested in. This one spins out a series of dances, (very well recreated by Redgrave), and romantic encounters with sufficient aplomb to give it an edge over most biopics. It isn't quite in the same class as Ken Russell's shorter, rawer television version but it comes close.

Showy but empty biography of internationally-acclaimed modern dance pioneer Isadora Duncan (1877-1927), played by Oscar-nominated Vanessa Redgrave. This scrapbook of memories directed by Karel Reisz attempts to pass off Isadora as an Auntie Mame in her later years (by way of Paris and San Francisco), given to gaily eccentric behavior which would lead to her demise. The film was advertised in the US as "The Loves of Isadora", shrewdly shifting the emphasis from Isadora herself to the men in her life (anything to bring audiences in); however, one might be tempted to say the movie follows suit, as Isadora's lovers--Paris Singer (Jason Robards), Gordon Craig (James Fox) and Sergey Esenin (Ivan Tchenko)--are portrayed as the fuel to her fire. This angle might have worked in a romantic-drama context were it not for the prologue which features a 12-year-old Isadora vowing allegiance to her art over love. Redgrave is neither American nor a dancer--and she can't imitate either (her exaggerated American accent has a monotone twang, as if she were speaking English phonetically). While the actress is certainly lovely--and, in performance, her long arms are eloquent and expressive--one can immediately tell director Reisz is protecting his star with the editing. The film looks beautiful, but it isn't beautifully realized. It's tumultuous and melodramatic and volatile, but there must have been more to Isadora Duncan than her craving for male companionship and her affection for the Soviets. When she's in a man's arms, staring into his eyes, it's fitting that Reisz should intercut shots of Isadora dancing alone on a bare stage, photographed from above. But when that romance is over, the filmmaker takes his diva right along into the arms of another man. A batty Isadora in her late forties complains aloud of being betrayed, while this picture--ostensibly about her--is the ironic response. **1/2 from ****

Biopic of the iconoclastic dancer Isadora Duncan. Set in the last year of her life in the South of France, with flashbacks to her earlier years, each focusing on a different lover (but by no means all of them, and a little disappointing that the mores of the time probably prevented portrayal of her homosexual relationships).

I have known about this film since I saw as a kid the famous still of the accident that caused her death, and have wanted to see it ever since. Even more so when I found out that she was married to Russian poet Sergei Esenin.

I adore Vanessa Redgrave, and with two reservations - that she doesn't really look much like Duncan (while being characteristically gorgeous and watchable) and her unconvincing American accent - she gives a wrenching and believable performance as the histrionic dancer whose grip on reality becomes increasingly tenuous as tragedies and disappointments accumulate. It would have been so easy to overplay this role, but Redgrave gives it just the right touch of passion and neurosis without ever descending into melodrama.

I know nothing about dance, but Redgrave's dancing performances totally convinced me, and for that alone she deserved her Oscar nomination. It must have taken an incredible amount of work and preparation from her, in addition to learning dialogue in convincingly accented French, German and Russian.

In many of her movies, Redgrave's hair is a character on its own, and this one is no exception. I think that that was one of the things that didn't gel for me in the movie: as beautiful as it is, it became intrusive. I think she was cast partly on the basis of her glorious mane aside from her acting talent, but it is superfluous to the action and it doesn't fit with my idea of Isadora Duncan.

Despite its weaknesses as a big-budget, big-name movie of its time, it still deserves to be more widely known and viewed.

The bigger than life Isadora Duncan, a dancing legend, is the focus of this film. "Isadora", which came out in 1968, came and went without much fanfare. The opportunity to watch it again came when it was shown on a cable network recently. The main attraction is Vanessa Redgrave's take in the subject matter.

The biopic, directed by Karel Reisz, follows aspects of Ms. Duncan's life. One thing comes across: she was a woman ahead of her time! Her disregard for classical dance made her famous, although as shown in the film, one wonders what liberties the filmmakers took in Ms. Redgrave's renditions of works created by the famous artist.

Another thing that is clearly evident in the movie is the unhappy life of Isadora. She had no luck with anyone of her lovers. The most famous one was Paris Singer, the son of an American millionaire which ended tragically as their son and her daughter with another man drowned, something that weighed heavily on this tormented woman.

Vanessa Redgrave at the height of her beauty was magnificent in her interpretation of the troubled Isadora. Jason Robards is seen as Paris Singer, the American heir that fell in love with the dancer, but didn't seem to have much in common with her.

Over the past weekend, I viewed a VHS of Isadora. Throughout the movie (and I assume this was in the script), the motif of the scarf is repeated in various ways showing that she loved scarves and billowy fabric; even if she didn't in real life, the reinforcement of the scarf (as well as her pursuit of the man driving the Bugatti), gives her death a logic and finality that "real" life cannot. Surely, Isadora's death must have been so fictional as not to be believed, as well as the fate of her children. Film-makers must craft a film in such a way that the viewer believes that every moment is true. Compare this screenplay with what Robert McKee says about writing screenplays in his incomparable book, Story, and you'll agree that the Isadora screenplay is undervalued. Also, Redgrave's performance is surely one of the finest of any era--and should have gotten the Oscar, but thankfully won at Cannes (outside the Hollywood political machine). The length of the film, to me, was no problem; the life of Isadora Duncan, could not have been shown in less. The stage scenes of her dancing were perfectly directed and illustrated how she could fill a theatre while also being rejected.