For Martin, Ross, Fleisher, Scorsese and Wilson, A Career Curtain Call That's Very Much in Character
By Monica Hesse
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, December 3, 2007
Diana Ross bobbed her lion mane to Vanessa Williams's serenade, Steve Martin hammed it up in response to Steve Carell's goading, Martin Scorsese furrowed his brow when Francis Ford Coppola said, " 'GoodFellas' is much better than 'The Godfather,' " Leon Fleisher graciously thanked Yo-Yo Ma for his kind words, and Brian Wilson looked a little out of it.
In other words, everyone behaved exactly as you would expect them to during last night's Kennedy Center Honors tribute.
The 30-year-old gala at the Kennedy Center Opera House, which culminated a weekend of activities saluting this year's fab five, is not about flouting expectations, after all, but about celebrating the obvious, the quintessential, the archetypes of each honoree's lifetime of stardom -- nixing the negative or the PG-13.
And so it was that a gold-sequins-clad Caroline Kennedy opened the evening by praising:
A film-loving boy from the "mean streets of Little Italy" (Scorsese).
A "wild and crazy" dirty rotten scoundrel (Martin).
A Motown beauty who found no mountain "high enough" (Ross).
A "piano prodigy who . . . embraced adversity" (Fleisher).
And a "Beach Boy troubadour [who] showed that rock-and-roll is indeed fun, fun, fun" (Fleisher again. No -- just kidding! It's Brian Wilson. You expected a surprise?).
Oh, and the president and first lady were there, too.
The last acts of these things -- other events included a dinner Saturday at the State Department and a White House reception yesterday afternoon -- are always such a shebang, such a to-do, let's just start there, shall we?
Wilson got the final set of Honors, a tribute kicked off by a fuzzy-as-ever Art Garfunkel, who described hearing Wilson's music for the first time: "It was this unique, crazy creation: a mix of rock-and-roll and heartfelt prayer."
And, er, drugs? No, no drugs were mentioned, just as no diva antics were mentioned for Ross. This was an evening of whitewashed kindness, unadulterated gushing. (Garfunkel did say, "He is in a world of his own vibrations.") Next to fete Wilson was Lyle Lovett (Lyle Lovett?) doing a melancholic take on "God Only Knows (What I'd Be Without You)." Not your typical association with California surfin' and sunshine, but Wilson seemed touched.
As he also appeared to be by a Hootie and the Blowfish (Hootie and the Blowfish?) medley of Beach Boys tunes, which ultimately brought the audience to its feet for a "California Girls" singalong.
And finally, a South London boys choir (a South London -- oh, ; cherubic kids are always a crowd-pleaser). "We were born a long, long way from your California beaches," said one member of Libera, "but the warmth of your music can be felt" all the way in England. They sang a harmonic and tear-jerking rendition of "Love and Mercy" -- Ross could be seen dabbing her eyes and looking toward the ceiling to prevent mascara runnage.
Then there were dozens and dozens of beach balls raining from the ceiling and batted up to the first balcony so each honoree could take one home.
But let's backtrack.
In every set of honorees, there's going to be the one who isn't quite a household name. This year's was Fleisher, the pianist/conductor/teacher whose life was recapped by Yo-Yo Ma.
Ma said that Fleisher's mother had wanted him to become either a pianist or the president of the United States, and Fleisher had "decided a pianist would be easier."
(We didn't catch President Bush's reaction to that.)
Conductor and violinist Jaime Laredo thanked Fleisher for introducing him to his wife, and lauded the maestro's work as "the standard by which we know what music can be."
Laredo then introduced a sparkly piano solo by Fleisher protege Jonathan Biss before leading the Peabody Conservatory Orchestra (Fleisher teaches at the music institute) in a soaring rendition of Beethoven's Choral Fantasy.
Scorsese prompted A-list reminiscences from Robert De Niro and Coppola.
"I can still cook many of his mother's meals," said Coppola, who first broke bread with Scorsese when the two met at the Sorrento film festival in 1970. Their most harebrained cooking caper: rigging a film projector to stir the spaghetti sauce.
De Niro lamented his troubled characters (Travis Bickle in "Taxi Driver," Jake LaMotta in "Raging Bull"): "Just think, if you were directing me tonight in the Kennedy Center Honors, I would have already whacked Steve Martin."
Scorsese fave Leo DiCaprio couldn't make it ("He's in Morocco," show producer George Stevens said regretfully at the Saturday dress rehearsal), but Cameron Diaz, one of his "Gangs of New York" stars, was there, perhaps channeling Jessica Simpson's verbal diarrhea from last year (Simpson claimed Dolly Parton made her nervous, and scuttled off the stage like a manic crab).
"I always say to [Marty], 'Your brain is so big,' " Diaz giggled. " 'You have such a big brain. Is it heavy?' " The audience tittered politely.
Then again, it's hard to creatively pay homage to a director who, when the job is well done, has an invisible hand.
Martin, with his multi-volume encyclopedia of shtick, was considerably easier.
You had Steve Carell remembering the first time he saw Martin perform: "His act was that of an idiot savant -- minus the savant."
You had bluegrass king Earl Scruggs spryly picking the banjo -- an instrument Martin plays.
You had a quartet of leggy dancers, clowning around from Bill Irwin, and a cameo by Martin Short.
You had a finale of Kristin Chenoweth crooning "Pennies From Heaven."
And yes, you did have someone saying, "Well, ex cuuuuuse me." It was Carell, and everyone seemed relieved when it happened.
Smokey Robinson (himself an honoree last year) kicked off Ross's tribute, remembering her as the pesky tomboy sis of a childhood pal and saying, "She wanted to be Diana Ross -- the one and only Diana Ross," which is the closest anyone came to "diva!"
He was followed by actor Terrence Howard, who recently starred with Ross's son, Evan, in "Pride."
Howard waxed scientific about his knowledge of stardom -- as a physics major in college he spent a lot of time studying celestial bodies. He then offered a frenzied suggestion: Let's name the sun after Diana!
Chuckles.
"Mr. President!" he bellowed, looking toward the box where the Bushes sat. Apparently he was hoping for an official proclamation. "By round of applause, who is with me?!"
Nervous chuckles.
Quick -- let's move on to a Ross-a-thon medley starring "American Idol" winner Jordin Sparks doing "You Can't Hurry Love," a perpetually wide-eyed Vanessa Williams inviting you to Touch Her in the Morning, and Ciara, flanked by four pelvic-thrusting dancers for "Coming Out" and "Upside Down." Woe to the epileptic -- flashing lights were on full force as the dancers leapt off the stage, trying to coax reluctant audience members into some mid-aisle freaking.
Too bad they didn't make it back to Aretha Franklin's seat, where the Queen of Soul was wearing a Day-Glo muumuu and getting her chair-groove on. Woman wanted to dance.
Yolanda Adams ended the Ross fete by leading the Joyce Garrett gospel choir in a wall-of-sound version of "Reach Out and Touch (Somebody's Hand)."
Midway through that song, Ross raised one slender arm above her head, up through that glorious halo of hair, and waved it back and forth in time with the music. She looked genuinely honored.
The Honors gala will be broadcast Dec. 26 at 9 p.m. on CBS.
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