Bob Fosse Quotes

Don't dance for the audience, dance for yourself.

You spend your whole life trying to get known and then you spend the rest of it hiding in the toilet.

I think Balanchine and Robbins talk to God and when I call, he's out to lunch.

Ho dovuto ridere di lui. Duramente. Ridere finchè i suoi occhi non hanno pero la loro luce. Ho dovuto buttarlo giù, non potevo lasciare che fosse così attraente per la stessa giovane Laura che BOB vuole. Quella che, sono sicura, lui sta aspettando. Per salvarmi, ho dovuto ridere in faccia ad un ragazzo che potrebbe non essere mai più così sincero. Ho dovuto farlo! Perchè fa così male difendere me stessa? Dov'era questo amore per cui supplicavo accasciata sulle mie ginocchia? Dannazione. So che l'ho ferito... Spero che un giorno capisca il perchè. Non schiaccerei mai nessuno nel modo in cui sono stata schiacciata io. Se fossi stata io quella derisa, non so se sarei mai stata di nuovo così onesta - in grado di avvicinarmi a qualcuno anche con il più piccolo complimento, perchè il ricordo della risata risuonerebbe di nuovo nelle mie orecchie

¿Es que Stanley Kubrick no se deprime nunca?

¿Es que Stanley Kubrick no se deprime nunca? All That Jazz

The film version of Chicago is a milestone in the still-being-written history of film musicals. It resurrected the genre, winning the Oscar for Best Picture, but its long-term impact remains unclear. Rob Marshall, who achieved such success as the co-director of the 1998 stage revival of Cabaret, began his career as a choreographer, and hence was well suited to direct as well as choreograph the dance-focused Chicago film. The screen version is indeed filled with dancing (in a style reminiscent of original choreographer Bob Fosse, with plenty of modern touches) and retains much of the music and the book of the stage version. But Marshall made several bold moves. First, he cast three movie stars – Catherine Zeta-Jones (former vaudeville star turned murderess Velma Kelly), Renée Zellweger (fame-hungry Roxie Hart), and Richard Gere (celebrity lawyer Billy Flynn) – rather than Broadway veterans. Of these, only Zeta-Jones had training as a singer and dancer. Zellweger’s character did not need to be an expert singer or dancer, she simply needed to want to be, and Zellweger’s own Hollywood persona of vulnerability and stardom blended in many critics’ minds with that of Roxie.8 Since the show is about celebrity, casting three Hollywood icons seemed appropriate, even if the show’s cynical tone and violent plotlines do not shed the best light on how stars achieve fame. Marshall’s boldest move, though, was in his conception of the film itself. Virtually every song in the film – with the exception of Amos’s ‘Mr Cellophane’ and a few on-stage numbers like Velma’s ‘All That Jazz’ – takes place inside Roxie’s mind. The heroine escapes from her grim reality by envisioning entire production numbers in her head. Some film critics and theatre scholars found this to be a cheap trick, a cop-out by a director afraid to let his characters burst into song during the course of their normal lives, but other critics – and movie-goers – embraced this technique as one that made the musical palatable for modern audiences not accustomed to musicals. Marshall also chose a rapid-cut editing style, filled with close-ups that never allow the viewer to see a group of dancers from a distance, nor often even an entire dancer’s body. Arms curve, legs extend, but only a few numbers such as ‘Razzle Dazzle’ and ‘Cell Block Tango’ are treated like fully staged group numbers that one can take in as a whole.

And this is not Fosse. Yes, he made it: but it turns on one of those stupid frauds that American show biz can’t get enough of, that “You haven’t lived until you’ve played the Palace,” that “You’ll never make the big time because you’re small-time in your heart,” that MGM dream of a culture made entirely of show biz, for which Mickey and Judy filmed manuals for do-it-yourself stardom while, behind a prop tree, little Jackie Cooper was fucking Joan Crawford. It’s naïve—a condition that has nothing to do with Bob Fosse. Yet, came Fosse’s third act, there was “Mr. Bojangles,” again from Dancin’, and another risibly sentimental number. Fosse wasn’t a romantic; Fosse was a satirist. Fosse was enjoyable, of course, and a thrilling showcase for the dancers. But it was an incorrect piece, not dishonest but concentrating on rather a lot of irrelevant material.

Non sappiamo se sia stato Bob Ewell a tagliare quella rete o chi altro," disse Atticus, "ma possiamo immaginarlo. Io ho dimostrato che era un bugiardo, ma John lo ha fatto passare per scemo. Tutto il tempo che Ewell è rimasto sul banco dei testimoni non ho mai avuto il coraggio di guardare John, altrimenti non sarei mai potuto rimanere serio. John lo fissava come se fosse stato un pollo a tre gambe o un uovo quadrato. Non mi vengano a dire che i giudici non cercano di influenzare le giurie..." concluse Atticus, ridendo.