Sprezzatura
"Sprezzatura. n. studied carelessness, especially in art or literature." -- Concise Oxford Dictionary
At the moment, or indeed ever, I can't manage sprezzatura -- hard to have it on a sneezy, headachy, cleaned-up-the-Dog-of-the-House's-vomit-at-6-am day, even without my natural handicaps of face-pulling and gawkiness -- but I so admire it in others.
The thing about the "studied" carelessness, it seems to me, is that the end result appears effortless. Maybe a bit louche, but effortless nonetheless.
Last night I spent some downtime in watching Double Wedding (1937), the seventh film collaboration of the great William Powell and Myrna Loy. Like a lot of later Powell/Loy, it more than dabbles in slapstick -- I don't think the ending melee in a trailer works at all -- and I'm not sure I would recommend it to any but Powell/Loy completists, but it has a few quiet moments as well.
One scene in particular struck me... Powell (a bohemian painter-director type, yes, really) and Loy (a hyper-organized fashion executive) are out for the day, sharing a lunch under the trees in some rural landscape. The banter between them is delicious (Ex. She insults him, calling him the most horrible man she's ever met; his response is a suave, "I try to excel at everything I attempt"), the sexual chemistry powerful, but Powell ends the conversation by saying that he's going to take a post-lunch nap -- "under that tree," he says with utter nonchalance. Loy doesn't roll her eyes, but she comes close... Sprezzatura *can* be irritating, I suppose.
Cut to the nap. Powell is bonelessly asleep, and we see Loy observing him. The Powell closeup is gorgeous -- he's in profile, his perfect white shirt loose at the neck (no tie), hair just coming disarranged; sprezzatura at rest. Loy smiles, appreciating the sight as much as I do. (The fact that she then steals his car and trailer has no bearing on this moment of appreciation.)
What's interesting to me is that, according to the TCM notes on the film and other sources, this is the film being made when Powell's fiancee Jean Harlow died. (He was so devastated by her death that filming had to be shut down for a week or so.) I wonder now if this scene was shot before or after his loss... if he could have conveyed such beautiful, louche grace even when suffering. That, I think, would be more than sprezzatura. I don't think there's a word for it.
May your day be full of beautiful, small carelessnesses which give you joy!
At the moment, or indeed ever, I can't manage sprezzatura -- hard to have it on a sneezy, headachy, cleaned-up-the-Dog-of-the-House's-vomit-at-6-am day, even without my natural handicaps of face-pulling and gawkiness -- but I so admire it in others.
The thing about the "studied" carelessness, it seems to me, is that the end result appears effortless. Maybe a bit louche, but effortless nonetheless.
Last night I spent some downtime in watching Double Wedding (1937), the seventh film collaboration of the great William Powell and Myrna Loy. Like a lot of later Powell/Loy, it more than dabbles in slapstick -- I don't think the ending melee in a trailer works at all -- and I'm not sure I would recommend it to any but Powell/Loy completists, but it has a few quiet moments as well.
One scene in particular struck me... Powell (a bohemian painter-director type, yes, really) and Loy (a hyper-organized fashion executive) are out for the day, sharing a lunch under the trees in some rural landscape. The banter between them is delicious (Ex. She insults him, calling him the most horrible man she's ever met; his response is a suave, "I try to excel at everything I attempt"), the sexual chemistry powerful, but Powell ends the conversation by saying that he's going to take a post-lunch nap -- "under that tree," he says with utter nonchalance. Loy doesn't roll her eyes, but she comes close... Sprezzatura *can* be irritating, I suppose.
Cut to the nap. Powell is bonelessly asleep, and we see Loy observing him. The Powell closeup is gorgeous -- he's in profile, his perfect white shirt loose at the neck (no tie), hair just coming disarranged; sprezzatura at rest. Loy smiles, appreciating the sight as much as I do. (The fact that she then steals his car and trailer has no bearing on this moment of appreciation.)
What's interesting to me is that, according to the TCM notes on the film and other sources, this is the film being made when Powell's fiancee Jean Harlow died. (He was so devastated by her death that filming had to be shut down for a week or so.) I wonder now if this scene was shot before or after his loss... if he could have conveyed such beautiful, louche grace even when suffering. That, I think, would be more than sprezzatura. I don't think there's a word for it.
May your day be full of beautiful, small carelessnesses which give you joy!