Not since Charlton Heston painted the Sistine Chapel has there been so epic a film about arts patronage as Cradle Will Rock. Heston, you will recall, had to cope only with the Vatican. But in Tim Robbins’s ambitious new movie about power, politics and culture–set in the thirties, but unambiguously directed toward the present moment–artists must satisfy a whole range of paymasters, from Rockefeller to the federal government.
With the insouciance that epic filmmaking demands, Robbins has dumped the contents of 1932-38 into the single drawer of ’37, so that Cradle Will Rock may jingle with incident. Here, as the film’s title would suggest, is an account of the legendary opening-night performance of Marc Blitzstein’s proletarian opera, The Cradle Will Rock: a work first produced by the government and then presented in defiance of it. Here, too, is the grilling of Hallie Flanagan, head of the WPA’s Federal Theatre, by the House Un-American Activities Committee (an interrogation that took place a year and a half after Cradle‘s premiere); and here, from three years before Cradle, is the story of Diego Rivera’s mural painting, with head of Lenin, for the RCA Building: a work first created and then destroyed by Rockefeller money.
Also wandering through the film are William Randolph Hearst with his film-world protégée Marion Davies; a composite industrialist, who is eager to trade steel and Old Master paintings with Mussolini; a ditzy countess, who keeps a pet “composer” right out of My Man Godfrey; and various art workers, from Federal Theatre actor Howard Da Silva (here fictionalized as one Aldo Silvano) to a drunken ventriloquist who is fading away with vaudeville.
Clearly the moviegoer, as patron of the arts, gets a lot for the price of a ticket. At least, there’s a lot on the surface. Characterizations for the most part are broad–inspired, perhaps, by Blitzstein’s dramaturgy. (The movie’s steel magnate might as well have been named after the opera’s villain, Mr. Mister.) Juxtapositions of episodes are often bold, as in the Cubist space of Rivera’s mural. If there’s a unifying element to these cartoonlike pieces, it’s the light and color of cinematographer Jean Yves Escoffier, who gives everything a sumptuousness that’s just slightly antique. His skill with cranes and dollies also helps a lot when smoothing is called for–as in the opening sequence, which carries us, as if in one gesture, from down-on-her-luck Olive Stanton (Emily Watson) sleeping in a theater, to disgruntled, anti-Communist bureaucrat Hazel Huffman (Joan Cusack) pasting up fliers on the street, to the apartment where Blitzstein (Hank Azaria) is lacerating his fingers on the piano keys, torturing from himself the score of TheCradle Will Rock.
Watch that sequence well. It’s one of the few in Cradle Will Rock where Tim Robbins brings his characters together in a continuous space. To describe the movie is to ask why he prefers to keep them apart.