The Fredösphere

I emerge from my blogging hibernation with an important message.

The kids and I saw Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium with the Maharincess' friend Lydia and her dad, my good friend, Thad.  The movie was good enough, although I've never been much of a fan of Peter Panesque paeans to pre-pubescent precipitancy.  Nevertheless, it was clearly worth the price of admission, considering we were at a one-dollar movie theater that had no truth-in-labeling issues--a ticket really cost only one buck.

What got my attention was Natalie Portman's scene at the climax.  She plays a young woman whose precocious talent as a pianist was sidetracked when she took a job as a clerk in a magic toy store.  She and the store are transformed when she accepts her new role as store owner; she understands a toy store may be as worthy an object of her creative efforts as a concert stage.  (Fine, fine; I'm not buying it, but whatever, it's just a movie.)  What happens in that scene is that Portman waves her arms as various toys in the store come to life.  The strings are cued and the soundtrack soars...and suddenly you realize Portman is conducting the music.  More precisely, Portman is portraying someone who is conducting music.  And she's doing it very, very badly.

This is hardly the first time I've seen this phenomenon.  Actors are asked to fake all kinds of stuff; why is conducting, of all things, so commonly botched?  Why, on the other hand, are musicians so commonly (although not universally) able to do it?  In particular, is there something about experience in ensemble playing that provides the missing, uh, magic?  I really want to know.  Why isn't conducting like falling off a log for these people?

Labels: movie