It has been some time since I have posted on this blog. In truth, I expected I would abandon it as my sequel to "The Portrait of a Lady" is on the back burner for now. I don't know why I relegated it to that status except that the it wasn't clicking along with enough vigor to suit me. The odd thing is, I finally discovered my plot point, if you will. Instead I have been concentrating on my short stories and if you are interested, they can be read at velburkowski.blogspot.com. I do intend to finish my sequel whether or not this blog continues along with it. I had thought I might post the chapters here and I may still do so.
Now that I have filled you in with what's going on and not going on with me and the Osmonds, I can move on to Mr. Henry James. I'm always in some way, thinking of him. Last night on Turner Classic Movies I tuned in to see a movie called "The Heiress" with Olivia de Havilland who won an Academy Award for it. The title meant nothing to me until I realized it was none other than "Washington Square" by Henry James, one of my favorite novels of all time. What a thrill to see it unexpectedly on an evening when I was especially bored. How wonderful the actors were, Ms. de Havilland's portrayal of poor defeated Catherine Sloper was positively riveting. There has since been another movie made of WS, more authentic, less melodramatic but none the less operatic with Albert Finney playing Dr. Sloper, Catherine's father. I will give you an Amazon link for them below this posting. Both are excellent.
Which brings me to my point: Henry James's attempts as a playwright were a bust. Oh how he wrung his hands over this failure. He worked feverishly trying to get "The American" on stage and when it was finally staged, with constant changes and numerous rewrites, it bombed. As did his other attempts. Finally, after several years of futility, he was forced to admit that his wordy, psychological character-driven stories were not meant for the stage and left that chapter behind him.
Now when I see such wonderful movies made of "Washington Square," "The Golden Bowl," "The American" and Nicole Kidman's fantastic portrayal of Isabel Archer in "The Portrait of a Lady," I could weep for Mr. James. If he could see these marvelous productions and the many that will be made in the future, as I have no doubt they will continue to be filmed. How he would be vindicated. He wanted to write for the stage because he wanted to make the big money plays made in those days. His books did not make that much. Oh, those royalties he'll never touch.
Okay, now I'm being melodramatic. Lately I have wanted to write a screenplay. Naturally I first turned to HJ's works when thinking of this screenplay. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. I do know that if he were alive today, he would be writing screenplays. Maybe that should be my story: Henry James in Hollywood, taking meetings, pitching ideas and wringing his hands when one of his books gets demolished by a producer or director. He might object to Isabel Archer played as a blond when she had very dark hair and gray eyes. I suspect that might be the least of his worries.
So here I am speculating on HJ again. It's good to be back.
