After hearing much criticism of the film’s excessive beauty, I finally saw Tom Ford’s A Single Man the other day and, quite frankly, loved every frame, every word, every sound. Many people, as well as paid critics, bash the rigorous “handsomeness” of the film. The film is, without a doubt, very beautiful to look at and is impeccably designed – a quality that can alienate or intimidate people who might not have Tom Ford’s knack for… well… making things look beautiful.
Without going into detail about my own experience, I would argue that a true appreciation of and identification with the film almost requires personal experience with the paralyzing loss on the scale experienced by the lead character, George, played so exquisitely by Colin Firth. So when I hear someone say, “Oh, it just looked like a melodramatic perfume ad,” I want to tell him to bury someone he’s very much in love with, see the film again, then get back to me.
But one of the things that struck me as I saw the film was the score. I have a keen ear for certain types of music. There are certain film scores that are among my absolute favorite music selections. At a certain point in the A Single Man, I heard startlingly beautiful yet very familiar notes in the film’s score. Almost immediately, I knew that the notes were from Bernard Herrmann’s score for Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo.
When I got home, I did a brief investigation. On the soundtrack for A Single Man is a track by Shigeru Umebayashi called “A Variation On Scotty Tails Madeline.” In the film Vertigo, Scotty is Jimmy Stewart’s character, and Madeline is Kim Novak’s character. Then, of course, I looked at the Vertigo soundtrack from 1958: there is a track called “Scotty Tails Madeline.” Beautiful. And the gorgeous notes, in both Vertigo and A Single Man, played underneath stories of broken men mourning the loss of a true love, are breathtaking. I bought them both…
The older Bond films have always been a kitschy bit of business, with the hilarious gadgets, the ridiculous Bond girl names (Honey Rider, Pussy Galore, Holly Goodhead), the even more ridiculous Bond girl acting, and the misogynistic ass-patting humor. From this kitschy vintage Bond oeuvre, I’ve always preferred the Connery Bond (except Never Say Never Again, the 1983 Thunderball remake misfire starring a young Kim Basinger).