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Thursday, June 21, 2012

Take This Waltz, or: Sarah Polley's utilization of Leonard Cohen's imagery



Take This Waltz (2011)

Directed by Sarah Polley

***SPOILERS***

Leonard Cohen once said of poet Frederico Garcia Lorca:

“He has been a man of extraordinary influence on both my political and personal work. I admire him. At fourteen years of age, I realized that in order to define the words ‘purity’ and ‘poetry,’ I could go to Lorca."

Cohen based his song “Take This Waltz” off Lorca’s poem “Pequeno Vals Vienes,” which is almost translated exactly word for word, albeit a few minor changes—which is where we are able to attach Cohen’s direction with the song. Lorca’s poem depicted his condemned relationship with Salvador Dalí in a homophobic Spain. Dalí had a brief connection with Lorca before abandoning him when their relationship became physical, and continued to keep his sexual orientation in the closet amidst his strenuous marriage with his wife, who he claimed to only have sex with once. Lorca’s poem recalls a brief relationship he shared with another poet named Hart Crane, in the lines:

“There is a death for piano/That paints little boys blue”

Crane and Lorca spent an evening together at a local gay bar. A bilingual translator had accompanied their date, since they each spoke different languages, but left the bar (he was straight) because of uneasiness. When the translator returned, Crane and Lorca had split apart due to the inability to converse—a tragic separation between two men who shared a genuine connection. Sailors (dressed in blue) surrounded the men as they played piano and told dirty jokes, and afterwards the two split apart. Both Lorca and Crane died within two years of each other following this night, with Hart’s death coming as a suicidal response to gay-related bashings and deaths. More than a direct relationship, Lorca’s poem may be more or less focused on the loss of love, instead of the loss of a companion. Spain was not welcoming for Lorca’s kind, and the constriction and longing Lorca felt poured out into “Pequeno Vals Vienes.” Cohen’s song is very much a translation of not only this longing for love, but a longing for Lorca himself via a female singer. This can be seen in the only lines that don’t directly adapt Lorca’s poem:

“There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking/They've been sentenced to death by the blues”

Cohen uses imagery to depict an actual funeral, which in turn represents this longing for art and beauty Cohen used to fuel his music. Cohen utilizes sexual energy he shares for the singer to establish this innate longing, which is where director and writer Sarah Polley’s Take This Waltz steps in.


Sexual frustration and desire certainly fuels Margot’s (Michelle Williams) flirtation with Daniel (Luke Kirby) and her eventual separation from her husband Lou (Seth Rogen), but the sexual undertones—much like Cohen’s song and Lorca’s poem—accompany several other themes that expand upon Margot’s state of mind, including death (the end of her marriage) and the disillusion of love (her slow and correlative downfall with both Daniel and Lou). Along with adapting Cohen’s song for the title of her film, Polley also employs the song in a magnificent "dance" sequence between Margot and Daniel, representing the both the culmination of their attraction and the beginnings their relationship’s deterioration. Their “waltz” is actually Polley’s (and Cohen's) depiction of the connection shared between two dancers. Margot and Daniel begin kissing, and soon they’re exploring the sexual fantasies Margot was tempted with during her flirtation. Finally they move into a quiet complacency Margot shared with Lou, marking a full circling trip that places Margot directly back where she started.

Cohen's song begins:

“Now in Vienna there are ten pretty women
There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry
There's a lobby with nine hundred windows
There's a tree where the doves go to die
There's a piece that was torn from the morning
And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost

Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws
I want you, I want you, I want you
On a chair with a dead magazine
In the cave at the tip of the lily
In some hallway where love's never been
On a bed where the moon has been sweating
In a cry filled with footsteps and sand

Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take its broken waist in your hand

This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and Death
Dragging its tail in the sea”

This mixture of sexual desire and an unattainable sense of love Margot strives to achieve is in full force through Cohen’s imagery, in which he depicts a church (There's a lobby with nine hundred windows), a gravesite (In the cave at the tip of the lily), and a funeral procession (In a cry filled with footsteps and sand) that incorporates the loss of Lou’s family, particularly his alcoholic sister Geraldine (Sarah Silverman). This can be seen as a longing to achieve the love she’s built for Lou over the years and the death of their relationship, and the twinge of longing and regret representing both her hesitancy to abandon her husband and the desire to find that love once again. Margot is fully committed to Daniel, asking him to have his way with her after such a life-crippling decision (Take its broken waist in your hand), represented so forcefully through Cohen’s alcohol-stricken protagonist skulking away from the love he’d come to know for so long (With its very own breath of brandy and Death/Dragging its tail in the sea).


“There's a concert hall in Vienna
Where your mouth had a thousand reviews
There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking
They've been sentenced to death by the blues
Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
With a garland of freshly cut tears?

Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz, it's been dying for years

There's an attic where children are playing
Where I've got to lie down with you soon
In a dream of Hungarian lanterns
In the mist of some sweet afternoon
And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow
All your sheep and your lilies of snow”


Here we can see the bar Margot set for her relationship with Daniel, but really it’s the bar set for any new relationship. The hope and longing for this love to be truly transcendent and life altering. Margot’s expectations had been built by Daniel’s fictional description of their first sexual encounter (There's a concert hall in Vienna/Where your mouth had a thousand reviews). Cohen was describing the physical being whom he was attached to, but along with Polley’s portrayal, this represents an expectation of love that’s too far-reaching to attain. So as Margot’s relationship with Daniel degenerates, the innate desire to find such love comes from oneself, as seen in the final shot of Margot riding the carnival ride—which she previously shared with Daniel—by herself. Constantly Margot finds love, and constantly does she lose it. But she will continue to persist love’s allure by visiting it’s grave (Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture/With a garland of freshly cut tears?) and longing for it into the great beyond, where Cohen finds it to be the only place he can share with his love once again (There's an attic where children are playing/Where I've got to lie down with you soon).


“And I'll dance with you in Vienna
I'll be wearing a river's disguise
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder
My mouth on the dew of your thighs
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook
With the photographs there, and the moss
And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty
My cheap violin and my cross
And you'll carry me down on your dancing
To the pools that you lift on your wrist
Oh my love, oh my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It's yours now
It's all that there is”

This seems to be Cohen’s culmination in finding love in the afterlife, where love is as beautiful as depicted in his (and Margot’s) mind. Cohen’s transformation into a river is a remarkable piece of imagery that recalls all the intimate and sexual desires (My mouth on the dew of your thighs) that drive this love. It’s a love that can be seen in Margot’s beguiled face as her relationship with Daniel dwindles into a quiet comfortableness, as foretold earlier in a scene featuring several women showering together in a locker room:

“New things get old.”

Daniel may have gotten old, but the journey Margot took almost seemed a necessary one. For she lost love, gained it back, and lost it again, but the allure of love still remained. Love was still attainable. But love was also a mystery. It held a physical presence that could be related through imagery, but not physically touched. So as Margot dips into the same life she previously held with Lou, there’s a twinge of optimism fueling her plight as she boards the carnival ride. Whereas her ride with Daniel ended in an abrupt halt that signified their eventual stalled relationship, her solo ride displays her search for love is a journey she must travel alone. Instead of coming to a stop, her ride is only interrupted by the black screen of Take This Waltz’s closing moments, representing the unpredictable and ambiguous concept of love that’s too vast and encompassing to truly understand or attain in this life.

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