'Lisztomaia' offensive

Press, Volume CXVI, Issue 34123, 8 April 1976, Page 4

'Lisztomaia' offensive

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JUDE FAHEY

Only Ken Russell could credit Franz Liszt with uttering “P— oif Brahms . . . he’s a right (six letters beginning with w)” at a gathering of nineleent h-cent urv composers. And only Russell would want to. The offensive line is me of many in his latest fiim, *'l_isztomania,” which opens in Christchurch after Easter and was given a previewlast week. Schumann. Strauss (Levi. that is), Mendelssohn and Wagner are all there among the bosoms in what amounts to an extrat anganza of rubbish as Liszt is portraved by Roger Daltrev as a sexmaniac with a Cockney accent and lis contem porary Wagner (Paul Nicholas) as the DevilGreat men are lowered to bottom level, the language is foul, and their music is destroyed. It is comedy of course, but it is only funnv if you forget it is about real people and real music. Liszt is a nineteenthcenturv pop hero. A theatreful of woman fans rock to and fro chanting “Franz Liszt" and the man emerges before a glittering curtain offering a tribute to “the late great Beethoven.” He yawns as he plays Wagner, keeps reverting to “Chopsticks.” and does a Cossack dance on the piano top. and his ladies go berserk. Only a few passages in the music rise above mediocre and Rick Wakeman, who i« responsible for most of it. has publicly disassociated himself from it. He took it on only as a

job. he says, and he was not happy with the mixing. Some lovely Wagner passages are vaugely recognisable, but certainly not given justice. It is hard to think of this sort of interpretation, both in music and picture, as art. and it is bound to deepen the rift ' ’ een classical and rock fans. . nere are sotpe irresistable lines: Liszt dressed in a jacket with giant pianokey lapels, is working at his books. Asked by his lover "Are you writing a symphony?” he replies. "No. doing the accounts.” The Pope. on a motorised throne, finds Liszt in bed with a very boyish nun and he pleads that he is being raped at gunpoint. The Pope shrugs it off with “Oh well, it happens to the best of us.” Wagner is crushed and gurgling on the point of death like a hideous monster and his wife (Liszt’s daughter. Cosima) exclaims: “You’ve ruined mv life, you’ve ruined my mother’s and now you want to ruin his.” Taken on its own. a sequence in which Liszt remembers the old days, in a cottage full of hearts and gingham, is hilarious. But these are just moments among the dross. Wagner is a blood-sucker and later a guitar-bearing . Hitler staggering about like Frankenstein; the Pope is an appalling deadpan rendering by the non-actor of them all. Ringo Starr; and Wakeman is a bumbling Thor. Fortunately that appearance is brief. “Lisztontania” leaves an impression of the trite and tasteless and in spite of the shock tactics. is quite boring Most people will take offence, and Russell will rake the money in.