Arizona Republic from Phoenix, Arizona • Page 16

zzzz i 3nF FIFSS the Arizona republic LyBHI Hg? and the arts J3 I 'Chariots' trips on puzzling script CHARIOTS OF FIRE An Enigma production released by the Ladd Co. through Warner Bros. Produced by David Puttnam, directed by Hugh Hudson from a screenplay by Colin Welland. Cinematography by David Watkin. Cast: Ben Cross, Ian Charleson, Cheryl Campbell, Alice Krige, Dennis Christopher, Sir John Gielgud, Ian Holm.

Rated PG. At Chris-Town and El Camino theaters. By Michael Maza Republic Staff The year is 1924. On his way to the Olympics, runner Eric Liddell, in whose sinewy legs and cavernous lungs the hopes of the British Empire ride, makes a stand. A godly man, a Scot raised in China by deeply religious parents and a man torn between a missionary calling and exercise of his racing talent (but attributing his gifts in both realms to his creator), Liddell announces that he will not compete in an Olympic event scheduled on a Sunday.

He doesn't believe in running on the Sabbath. IsJLiddell (a) noble in placing principle abo glory for himself and his countrymen or (b) rigid? The answer to that question has much to dot with whether one rejoices in the film Chariots of Fire or sits on the edge of boredom through its beautiful cinematographyand skillful re-creation of the past. Screenwriter Colin Welland had big values very much on his mind when he composed Chariots of Fire. At every opportunity, he opte to use real-life heroes Liddell and fellow ruruier Harry Abrahams as vessels of abstraction courage, determination, piety rather than people of flesh and blood. a result, these men remain puzzles and themovie, after the name of the company that made it, an enigma production.

Liddell (Ian Charleson) more than once calms' his qualms by reminding himself that love with Sybil Gordon (Alice Krige) when he sees her performing in a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. He arranges a meeting after the performance and squires her to her favorite fancy restaurant. In the film's best scene, they dispense with their orders he'll have her favorite dish, of course and she twitters a bit self-consciously while he moons until the dishes arrive. They hold pork; an awesome silence is replaced by their shared laughter. All is well.

This is Chariots of Fire at its most concrete. Mostly, though, the story moves from allusion to allusion. Welland and Hudson use period pageantry and spectacle of sport to string the audience along. They also hold out an unresolved conflict. After double-backing into the story, dissolving from 1978 to 1924 to 1919, Hudson crosscuts between runners Abrahams and Liddell.

It's soon apparent that these two will meet in a race that only one can win. Liddell wins it, in the movie's first third; Abrahams recovers from defeat and takes on his coach to prepare for a rematch. Welland points the movie toward this conclusion, but the rivals never meet again. Instead, they're teammates, not competitors, in the Olympics. Some welcome this non-delivery of the expected.

Others feel toyed with. At the moment, I'm opting toward the later category. Chariots of Fire is very well-cast. Ms. Krige, last seen as the specter in Ghost Story, Harry Abrahams (Ben Cross, left) loses a race to Eric Liddell (Ian Charleson, center) in Chariots of Fire, a movie about the rivalry between two Olympic-class runners.

"God made me devout, and he made me fast." He seems to run, as well as preach, for the glory of God; why he feels content to do one but not the other on Sundays is central to any understanding of the man. Content to pass this off as a dictate of the times, the movie doesn't even raise the question. Abrahams (Ben Cross), we are told, uses his speed to deflect and counterattack bigotry. He is Jewish and has felt the sting of anti-Semitism, we are told. But as he steps off a train at Cambridge to begin his freshman year at Trinity College, Abrahams looks sedate and every bit as privileged as his upper-crust classmates.

Director Hugh Hudson offers nothing more than a mildly crude, stereotyped remark by Trinity's master (Sir John Gielgud) one that Abrahams doesn't even overhear to establish the prejudice that allegedly fuels his running. Later, Abrahams falls instantaneously in Gielgud and Ian Holm as Abrahams' coach all perk up the film when they're on screen. Cross and Charleson are capable leads, which makes the screenwriter's refusal to focus their characters all the more aggravating. A cinematography note: Every year brings its share of beautifully photographed movies. Chariots of Fire is one of these, but for the most part its images are weak.

The most lasting may be the sight of Great Britain's Olympic runners, togged out in crisp whites, jogging along a cocoa-colored beach against steely water and a gray sky. Sadly, the opening credits roll over the sequence. SECOND OPINION: From Vincent Canby, New York Times: "Chariots of Fire is a celebration of a number of things, not the least of which is a kind of highly committed, emotionally involving drama that knows the difference between sentiment and sentimentality. It also introduces more a than half-dozen talents, mostly English, and celebrates the British film industry, which, with The French Lieutenant's Woman and now Chariots of Fire, is quite evidently in top forrri once again." 1 diaries Krejcsi Republic Among the auction items are a roll-top desk from Phelps-Dodge's old headquarters in Douglas and an antique popcorn maker. Helen Hobson, COMPAS executive secretary, checks over the growing supply of donations for the annual auction.

Stream of donations overflows COMPAS Eight's auction coffers By Hardy Price Republic Staff With a little bit of luck, COMPAS Eight may well reach its goal of $1.5 million in donated gifts. Deadline for donations to the Combined Metropolitan Phoenix Arts and Sciences was Feb. 1, but, "We're still receiving donations and you really can't say no to people," she added. The more than 2,000 donated gifts will be auctioned at three sessions to include an art and antique auction March 14 at the Registry Resort; a March 27 black-tie auction, also at the Registry; and an April 2-3 television auction to be telecast on KPHO-TV (Channei 5). COMPAS is the biennial fund-raiser that benfits the Heard Museum, Phoenix Art Museum, Phoenix Symphony and Phoenix Zoo.

The first COMPAS in 1967 raised $207,400. This year COMPAS hopes to raise more than three-quarters of a million dollars. Gifts donated to COMPAS ranged from jackhammers to furniture to barge trips down French canals to art works. The television auction which will air from 7 to 9:30 p.m., then break for a half-hour of news, and then continue to 1 a.m. both nights will feature many gift certificates: dinners at restaurants, various services, small applicances, etc.

There will be no preview of items for the TV auction, although photographs of all items will be shown on the air. The art and antique auction will combine a silent bid with a live bid session and includes a brunch. Art will be split between this session and the black-tie auction. Artists represented at the auction will "We had $1,006,000 last week and we're still feature a number of the Cowboy Artists oh America, including James Boren, John CfyC mer, Robert Lougheed, Fritz. While, Johnny Hampton, Bill Moyers, Bill Ncbbker and Howard Terpning.

There have also been works of Fritz Scholder, Alan Houser, T.C. Cannon, Frederic Remington and Bob McCall donated. Actor Burt Reynolds has donated, from his personal collection, a pair of paintings by Paul Forster and Greg Perillo. counting," said COMPAS executive secretary Helen Hobson. "But we had a tremenrinnn amount of donations in the last few weeks which we haven't been able to finish the paper work on.

Soul godfather' offers message that can't be refused bfe SMea JAMES BROWN l-tothl 8 1" Andrew Means Republic Staff wide, even-toothed grin and a gleam in his eyes, he By looks demonic and vaguely out-of-control. In tact, Thursday, Dooley's. there were occasions on Dooley's small stage when hej did more than just look out-of-control. Once or twice he landed on the seat of his pants without much sign of having rehearsed the move. There were throwbacks to the old days i sometimes his legs would tremble violently in time td.

the beat. And there was the old routine where Brown collapses on stage and an aide covers him with a cape" and leads him away. In a trice, of course, Brown is -back setting the mike stand swaying like a punch -ball. Brown's band worked as hard as he did. Visually and musically they were a major reason for the show's impact.

A five-man horn section punctuated the rhythm with staccato blasts, also helping to fill out the vocal harmonies with Brown's two female singers. During It's a Man's World, two of Brown's veteran sidemen stepped forward for solos. Guitarist Jimmy Nolan, who has been with Brown 16 years, played some blues licks in the B.B. King style. Then Sinclair Pinckney, who has been with Brown 21 years, prolonged the mood on tenor sax.

Accompanying the music was a fascinating choreographic routine. While the girl singers, KatKy Jordan and Martha High, indulged in a kind of ballet of the hands, each of the two trumpeters, Jason Sanford and Harlcy Ferris, alternately played a phrase and then swept his instrument over the head' By the law of averages, James Brown should have quietly faded away years ago. And the truth is that he nearly did. After all, where is his America now? The America of black consciousness and searing, confessional soul isn't anywhere the media is focusing on, that's for sure. But like the godfather of soul that he is, the 48-year-old Brown refuses to disappear.

He may be out of step with today's black music trends and he may no longer be a spokesman for black youth, but he marches on with stubborn resolve. In a recent interview in the British weekly New Musical Express, Brown was confronted with his diminished social and musical role. He reversed the question, accusing today's rhythm-and-blues and soul performers of regressing and their black listenership of being pushed back by the times. Performers like Rick James, Brown said, have gone back to primitive basics and have failed to develop the melodic base he set for the music. The kids who listen also represent a step backwards, he said, because much of the social advancement that was made in the '60s has been wiped out by the economic recession.

"You see, in troubled times, people go to their godfather, someone with greater experience," Brown told New Musical Express. "But at the moment these people aren't ready for the advice I have to give them In 10 years time or so, they'll realize that what I said was right and they'll come back. I'll still be here." Brown didn't make it clear what the advice would be. But if his recent meeting with President Reagan and Vice President George Bush is any indication, Brown's impact still depends on repeating his classic sexual and racial themes of liberation from the '60s. To mark the late Martin Luther King's birthday, Brown met with Reagan and Bush to talk about jobs and education.

He came away with little to say other than that Reagan tried his best in a bad situation. All the same, as far as the music is concerned, if Brown really is making a comeback, he could hardly make it more convincingly. At Dooley's, he clearly showed he is able to emerge from the trough his career was in during much of the '70s. Soul music, at its best (which is rare these days), is communal, involving a continual, semispontaneous emotional exchange between performers and audience. Brown's ability to ignite this dialogue was breathtaking.

It's a Man's World (a song that might conceivably be regarded as sexist these days even though it idolizes women as the object of man's endeavors) was expanded into a passionate marathon, involving guitar and saxophone solos and tributes to various late greats like Jimi Hendrix, Sam Cooke, John Lennon, Bob Marley and Elvis Presley. Such was Brown's magic that with each name he mentioned he increased his own stature. It was almost as if he were acting as an priestly intermediary between these names of the past and his listeners. He may be a portlier figure than during his heyday, but Brown still stomps and sweats his way through his act. With thick cellar-length black hair, a of his colleague, who would duck a split seconds beforehand.

Dooley's was packed with an animated, mixed audience indicating, perhaps, that the James Brown name James Brown hasn't lost its drawing power. A I Ti "I nntaj.