Latest news with #Bergman
Hamilton Spectator
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Hamilton Spectator
Alan Bergman, Oscar-winning lyricist who helped write ‘The Way We Were,' dies at 99
Alan Bergman, the Oscar-winning lyricist who teamed with his wife, Marilyn, for an enduring and loving partnership that produced such old-fashioned hits as 'How Do You Keep the Music Playing?,' 'It Might Be You' and the classic 'The Way We Were,' has died at 99. Bergman died late Thursday at his home in Los Angeles, family spokesperson Ken Sunshine said in a statement Friday. The statement said Bergman had, in recent months, suffered from respiratory issues 'but continued to write songs till the very end.' The Bergmans married in 1958 and remained together until her death, in 2022. With collaborators ranging from Marvin Hamlisch and Quincy Jones to Michel Legrand and Cy Coleman, they were among the most successful and prolific partnerships of their time, providing words and occasional music for hundreds of songs, including movie themes that became as famous as the films themselves. Frank Sinatra, Michael Jackson, Tony Bennett and many other artists performed their material, and Barbra Streisand became a frequent collaborator and close friend. Sunshine said that there will still be a centennial celebration of Alan Bergman as planned at Santa Monica's Broad Stage, with guests including Michael Feinstein, Jackson Browne and Patti Austin. Feinstein, among the many artists who posted tributes Friday, wrote that the Bergmans were 'kind, talented and principled artists' who 'lived from a place called Love.' Blending Tin Pan Alley sentiment and contemporary pop, the Bergmans crafted lyrics known by millions, many of whom would not have recognized the writers had they walked right past them. Among their most famous works: the Streisand-Neil Diamond duet 'You Don't Bring Me Flowers,' the well-named Sinatra favorite 'Nice 'n' Easy' and the topical themes to the 1970s sitcoms 'Maude' and 'Good Times.' Their film compositions included Ray Charles' 'In the Heat of the Night' from the movie of the same name; Noel Harrison's 'The Windmills of Your Mind,' from 'The Thomas Crown Affair'; and Stephen Bishop's 'It Might Be You,' from 'Tootsie.' The whole world seemed to sing and cry along to 'The Way We Were,' an instant favorite recorded by Streisand for the 1973 romantic drama of the same name that co-starred Streisand and Robert Redford. Set to Hamlisch's tender, bittersweet melody, it was essentially a song about itself — a nostalgic ballad about nostalgia, an indelible ode to the uncertainty of the past, starting with one of history's most famous opening stanzas: 'Memories / light the corners of my mind / misty watercolor memories / of the way we were.' 'The Way We Were' was the top-selling song of 1974 and brought the Bergmans one of their three Oscars, the others coming for 'Windmills of Your Mind' and the soundtrack to 'Yentl,' the Streisand-directed movie from 1983. At times, the Academy Awards could be mistaken for a Bergman showcase. In 1983, three of the nominees for best song featured lyrics by the Bergmans, who received 16 nominations in all. The Bergmans also won two Grammys, four Emmys, were presented numerous lifetime achievement honors and received tributes from individual artists, including Streisand's 2011 album of Bergman songs, 'What Matters Most.' On 'Lyrically, Alan Bergman,' Bergman handled the vocals himself. Although best known for their movie work, the Bergmans wrote the Broadway musical 'Ballroom' and provided lyrics for the symphony 'Visions of America.' Their very lives seemed to rhyme. They didn't meet until they were adults, but were born in the same Brooklyn hospital, four years apart; raised in the same Brooklyn neighborhood, attended the same children's concerts at Carnegie Hall and moved to California in the same year, 1950. They were introduced in Los Angeles while working for the same composer, but at different times of the day. Their actual courtship was in part a story of music. Fred Astaire was Marilyn's favorite singer at the time and Alan Bergman co-wrote a song, 'That Face,' which Astaire agreed to record. Acetate in hand, Bergman rushed home to tell Marilyn the news, then proposed. Bergman is survived by a daughter, Julie Bergman, and granddaughter. Bergman had wanted to be a songwriter since he was a boy. He majored in music and theater at the University of North Carolina, and received a master's from the University of California, Los Angeles, where he befriended Johnny Mercer and became a protege. He and Marilyn at first wrote children's songs together, and broke through commercially in the late 1950s with the calypso hit 'Yellowbird.' Their friendship with Streisand began soon after, when they visited her backstage during one of her early New York club appearances. 'Do you know how wonderful you are?' was how Marilyn Bergman greeted the young singer. The Bergmans worked so closely together that they often found themselves coming up with the same word at the same time. Alan likened their partnership to housework: one washes, one dries, the title of a song they eventually devised for a Hamlisch melody. Bergman was reluctant to name a favorite song, but cited 'A Love Like Ours' as among their most personal: 'When love like ours arrives / We guard it with our lives / Whatever goes astray / When a rainy day comes around / A love like ours will keep us safe and sound.'
News18
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- News18
Alan Bergman, Oscar-Winning Lyricist, Dies At 99
Oscar-winning lyricist Alan Bergman passed away at 99. Bergman had respiratory issues but wrote songs until his final days. Alan Bergman, one of Hollywood's most celebrated lyricists, passed away on Thursday night (July 17) at his Los Angeles home. He was 99. A family spokesperson confirmed the news on Friday, noting that Bergman had been dealing with respiratory issues in recent months but continued writing songs until his final days. Bergman, along with his wife and creative partner Marilyn Bergman, created some of the most iconic songs in film and television history. The couple married in 1958 and remained together both professionally and personally until Marilyn's death in 2022. Together, they penned hundreds of songs that became enduring classics, leaving an unmistakable mark on American music. Their partnership spanned decades and included collaborations with top composers like Marvin Hamlisch, Quincy Jones, Michel Legrand, and Cy Coleman. The Bergmans' lyrics became the voice of cinematic emotion, with their songs performed by legends such as Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Michael Jackson, and their longtime friend Barbra Streisand. Among their most cherished works are The Way We Were, How Do You Keep the Music Playing?, It Might Be You, and You Don't Bring Me Flowers. Their music also made its way into television, writing theme songs for shows like Maude and Good Times. Notable film contributions included The Windmills of Your Mind from The Thomas Crown Affair, In the Heat of the Night, and It Might Be You from Tootsie. The Way We Were, recorded by Streisand for the 1973 romantic drama of the same name, became an anthem of nostalgia and longing. Its opening lines — 'Memories / light the corners of my mind…" — have become some of the most recognizable lyrics in pop culture. The song topped charts in 1974 and earned the Bergmans one of their three Academy Awards. In total, they received 16 Oscar nominations. Beyond the Oscars, their accolades included two Grammys, four Emmys, and several lifetime achievement awards. Streisand even released an album in 2011 dedicated to their work titled What Matters Most, while Alan Bergman himself recorded a solo album, Lyrically, Alan Bergman. Though best known for their work in film, the Bergmans also wrote for Broadway (Ballroom) and composed lyrics for the symphony Visions of America. Their legacy continues through the timeless songs that captured the hearts of generations. First Published: July 19, 2025, 10:50 IST Disclaimer: Comments reflect users' views, not News18's. Please keep discussions respectful and constructive. Abusive, defamatory, or illegal comments will be removed. News18 may disable any comment at its discretion. By posting, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.
Irish Times
6 days ago
- General
- Irish Times
Hugh Linehan: My right eye is now failing too. The world is slipping away, just a little, just enough to notice
As a child, I used to sneak into my father's study to leaf through his books on cinema. Fellini. Bergman. Kubrick. Hitchcock. It felt like trespassing into a world of illicit imagery and adult mystery. These volumes weren't all dry theoretical texts. They were illustrated, full of blurry black and white stills, images from strange films I'd never have been allowed to watch at the time. Some of them I didn't even know by name, but the images etched themselves into my memory with the precision of dreams. Again and again they returned to one motif: the eye. There was the infamous blade slicing open an eyeball in Un Chien Andalou (1929), a scene that retains the power to provoke a full-body flinch nearly a century after it was first projected. Marion Crane's wide, disbelieving stare as her lifeblood swirled down the shower drain in Psycho (1960). Alex in A Clockwork Orange (1971), lids pinned back as he was subjected to his regime of aversion therapy. It was the eye as portal, as vulnerability, as violence, as punishment. None of these images are comforting. And in retrospect, I wonder if my uneasy fascination with them, and the squeamishness I have always had about anything getting too close to my own eyes, has something to do with the fact that I've never had two working ones. Like Sauron, albeit with somewhat less malice or magical powers, I have always depended on just the one. My hopelessly shortsighted left eye is amblyopic, or what people used to call lazy, to the point of uselessness. But now my right eye is failing too. READ MORE Not entirely. But enough that I can no longer read printed books, documents or newspapers. Enough that I find it difficult to recognise faces, even those I know well. Enough that the world has become, gradually but inexorably, something I have to navigate more slowly and more carefully. The terrain has changed, and I am having to learn how to move through it all over again. There are good reasons, of course, why evolution equipped most of us with a spare eye, not least when it comes to judging depth and distance. My personal experience is that these reasons include having the ability to play tennis without embarrassment or eat soup without incident. But for the most part, one (mildly shortsighted) good eye has served me well enough over the years. But it did leave me without a safety net. Despite a lifelong fascination with image-making that has included stints as an illustrator, film worker and movie and TV critic, I never really paid enough attention to how vision actually works. The lens at the front of the eye focuses light on to the retina at the back. There, a thin layer of photosensitive cells converts the light into neural impulses that the optic nerve transmits to the brain. The brain, performing its usual miracles, assembles those signals into a coherent picture. And we call that picture 'reality'. At the very centre of the retina is a five-millimetre-wide area called the macula. It's packed with light-sensitive cells and is responsible for our central vision. It allows us to read, to recognise faces, to distinguish colour and detail. It's also where my trouble lies. On the ophthalmologist's screen, blown up to an uncomfortably large scale, my macula looks like a faraway planet: a red disc with pale, mottled areas near the centre. These blotches are now my terra incognita, where the layers of cells are breaking down and not being replaced. A kind of biological erosion is at work, like a carpet being worn down to the threads. Hugh Linehan: 'These days I smile vaguely at anyone who passes me in the office. They could be a close colleague or a complete stranger, but it seems safer to be friendly than risk giving someone the cold shoulder.' Photograph: Bryan O'Brien The name for this irreversible process is macular degeneration, and it's one of the most common causes of sight loss in the developed world. The age-related form is relatively well known, especially among older people. But it can also be genetic or associated with other conditions such as diabetes. In my case, it turns out to be inherited. I'm 62, the sort of age that looks young from the vantage point of 85 and ancient from the perspective of 25. Still, it's on the early side for age-related macular degeneration. So the doctors dug a little deeper. A DNA swab was sent to Finland, revealing a mutation in a gene called PRPH2, which produces proteins in the retinal cells. Apparently, this gene doesn't always do what it's supposed to do. None of this is entirely comforting, especially since no one in my family, as far as I know, has had these symptoms. (My siblings and children are now welcome to be tested if they so choose.) But it does provide a kind of explanation. More importantly, it adds a little more information to the worldwide project of genetic puzzle-solving that will hopefully lead to new treatments and therapies. And, more practically, it allows me to start making adjustments. These days I smile vaguely at anyone who passes me in the office. They could be a close colleague or a complete stranger, but it seems safer to be friendly than risk giving someone the cold shoulder. I no longer exercise my sacred birthright as a Dubliner to jaywalk, as the gaps in my field of vision mean I could easily miss an approaching vehicle. Instead, I wait stoically at intersections, relying on the green man and increasingly on the electronic beep. I carry a nifty little device that combines a torch and a magnifying glass, which allows me to read printed material such as price tags and receipts. Mr Magoo, the once-beloved cartoon character, has long since been consigned to pop culture's naughty step, alongside all the other ableists, racists and sexists. But I now better understand his predicament. There is a particular kind of comedy that emerges from misperception, though in real life it can be less amusing. I have said hello to empty chairs. Attempted to pour coffee into upside-down cups. I misread expressions. I fail to notice cues. These new, surprising social awkwardnesses pile up on top of all the old familiar ones. There are other losses, large and small. I can no longer follow the action in a football match or pluck a book from the shelf to check a reference. I deeply miss appreciating a film or a painting in the way its maker intended. Professionally, I feel the diminishment too. I once prided myself on having a 'good eye' for a photograph, a composition, a page layout. It was an important part of what I brought to the job. These days, not so much. And yet, something unexpected remains. One of the things that sight is supposed to give us – perhaps the most important – is human connection. A century of research tells us that eye contact, facial expressions and micro-gestures, play a crucial role in how we communicate. The shift to digital and remote communication has stripped away much of this subtlety, to our collective detriment. Or so the theory goes. Hugh Linehan whose left eye is amblyopic. He is now experiencing macular degeneration in his right eye, what he once called his 'good eye'. Photograph: Bryan O'Brien But my experience doesn't entirely bear that out. There are lapses in understanding, of course. I sat recently across from a podcast guest, someone for whom emotional intelligence is part of their personal brand. I could sense that they were giving me 'a look', but I had no idea what it meant. I was going through my new routine of taking my glasses off and putting them on again, which probably looked like an affectation. The usual feedback loop was broken. But we still had a conversation. Maybe I was just overthinking it. If, like me, you've ever been advised that for your own psychological wellbeing you need to spend less time trapped in your own head and more time engaging with the actual world, then the prospect of losing one of your senses presents a particular kind of challenge. The world is slipping away, just a little, just enough to notice. [ Genetic cures on demand: 'Within four weeks, the vision in his eyes had doubled' Opens in new window ] And yet, I'm not going blind. Macular degeneration affects central vision, not peripheral. A helpful information sheet advises me, rather grimly, I feel, that I 'will always be able to see sufficiently to walk around your house and your garden'. Another one says more encouragingly that most people 'can also make their way to town and do the shopping and other tasks with ease'. It's not the reassurance I might have wished for in my youth, but at this stage, I'll take it. The greatest moment of relief comes in mid-May when Emma Duignan, one of my two excellent and empathetic ophthalmologists (the other is Max Treacy), says the words I most need to hear: 'You'll always be able to read.' Not on paper, and the screens may need adjusting. The text might even grow to monstrous sizes. But the act itself – the miracle of text becoming meaning – will remain within reach. Jorge Luis Borges , whose vision was poor from childhood, lost his sight completely at the age of 58, having just been appointed director of the National Library of Argentina. He was surrounded by millions of books he could no longer read. In his essay, Blindness, he explored his condition not as a tragedy, but as a kind of destiny. Borges is the melancholic, ironic laureate of vision loss. I find his writing on the subject comforting and intimidating in equal measure. He described his world not as darkness, but as a 'greenish, cloudy mist', a perceptual veil rather than a void. For 25 years, he lived within that mist and continued to write with astonishing clarity. I cannot claim anything so profound. But I take some solace in the fact that unlike Borges, who died in 1986, I live in a time when sight loss is not what it once was. Surgical advances have transformed the lives of millions. Cataracts can be removed in half an hour. Laser treatment has liberated people from Coke-bottle lenses. Genetic research is moving with startling speed, hinting at future therapies that once seemed like science fiction. [ Blind no longer: 'For the first time in over a decade, I can see the world around me' Opens in new window ] And then there is digital technology. Audiobooks, screen readers, text-to-voice applications – anything can now be turned into robotic but perfectly intelligible audio within seconds. Admittedly, the experience of 'reading' in this way is different. It's slower, less immersive and rather less satisfying. But it's still reading, of a kind. And it remains a bridge to the world of ideas when my poor declining eye can't take the strain of a screen any more. A recent article in the New Yorker explored the new generation of assistive spectacles for deaf people that can turn conversations into real-time subtitles that unspool across the lenses. Would such a thing be possible for sight loss? It seems plausible. For the moment, though, I am just learning to see in a new way. Still in the world. Still fumbling and stumbling. Not able to see where I'm going, but still pressing on.
USA Today
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- USA Today
Alan Bergman, Oscar-winning songwriter for Frank Sinatra and Barbra Streisand, dies at 99
Alan Bergman wrote a song with his future wife on the day they first met. Over the next 60 years, they never stopped making music together. Bergman was one half of one of the greatest American songwriting duos. The other half was his wife Marilyn, who died in 2022. On July 17, Alan Bergman died at 99, family spokesperson Ken Sunshine told Reuters. Together, the Bergmans wrote the lyrics for "The Way We Were" and "The Windmills of Your Mind," tunes for the film "Yentl," and the theme songs for 1970s television comedies "Maude," "Alice" and "Good Times." "It was a terrible song, but we loved the process," Bergman said in 2011 of that first collaboration. "And from that day on, we've been writing together." The songwriting team went on to win three Oscars, four Emmys and two Grammy awards, and to be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1980. Their lyrics were set to the music of composers including Michel Legrand, Marvin Hamlisch, John Williams and Quincy Jones. Singers ranging from Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra to Johnny Mathis, Barbra Streisand and Sting recorded their songs. Johnny Mercer of 'Moon River' fame mentored Bergman Alan Bergman was born in September 1925 in Brooklyn, New York, in the same hospital where his wife was born a few years later. But the couple didn't meet until 1956, when they were introduced by the composer Lew Spence in Los Angeles. The couple married in 1958 and had one daughter. Bergman wrote his first song when he was 13 years old and continued to pen lyrics into his 90s, after his wife's death. The song "Wherever I May Go (for Marilyn)" was a tribute to her. Bergman studied at the University of North Carolina and completed a Master's degree in music at the University of California, Los Angeles, where he met songwriter Johnny Mercer. Mercer, who wrote the lyrics of "Moon River" for the film "Breakfast at Tiffany's" in 1961, became his mentor. Despite his desire to write songs, Bergman first worked as a TV producer in Philadelphia. At Mercer's urging, he moved to California in the 1950s. "I was writing both music and lyrics in those days, and he would listen to what I was writing and critique it and encourage me," Bergman told JazzTimes magazine in 2024. "I would not be here today without him. He was a great influence." Bergman liked to use a baseball analogy to explain the couple's writing process — pitching and catching ideas back and forth. He preferred to have the music before he began to write the lyrics. Composers would leave their compositions with the couple. They would then write words that fit the notes. "We believe that words are at the tips of those notes and it's our job to find them," he told NPR in 2011. "That's the adventure." Alan Bergman, wife Marilyn Bergman's big break came on Frank Sinatra's 'Nice 'n' Easy' "Yellow Bird" was the duo's first money-making song, but their big break came with Frank Sinatra's 1960 album "Nice 'n' Easy." The crooner became a friend of the couple. He referred to them as "the kids." They had another career breakthrough when they worked with composer and producer Quincy Jones in 1967 on the song "In the Heat of the Night," for the film of the same name. They won their first Academy Award for best original song for writing "The Windmills of Your Mind" the following year, with Michel Legrand, for the film "The Thomas Crown Affair." They were awarded another Oscar in 1974 for "The Way We Were" with Marvin Hamlisch, as well as a Grammy for Song of the Year in 1975. In 1983, the couple were the first songwriters to have written three of the five Oscar-nominated songs. Two years later they took home their third Academy Award for "Yentl," starring Barbra Streisand. The singer became a friend and frequent interpreter of their music, recording more than 50 of their songs. She released the album "What Matters Most" as a tribute to the Bergmans and their music. The couple's Emmys included awards for the TV movies "Queen of the Stardust Ballroom" (1975) and "Sybil" (1977), and the song "Ordinary Miracles" from the 1995 Streisand special "Barbra: The Concert."
India Today
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- India Today
Oscar-winning lyricist Alan Bergman, co-writer of 'The Way We Were,' dies at 99
Alan Bergman, the Oscar-winning lyricist who, alongside his wife Marilyn, formed a legendary songwriting duo behind hits like 'How Do You Keep the Music Playing?', 'It Might Be You,' and the classic 'The Way We Were,' has died at passed away late Thursday at his home in Los Angeles, according to family spokesperson Ken Sunshine. The statement released Friday said Bergman had been dealing with respiratory issues in recent months, 'but continued to write songs till the very end.'advertisementTogether with his wife Marilyn, who died in 2022, Alan Bergman penned some of the most enduring lyrics in American film and music. As reported by People, the Bergmans won three Oscars, four Emmys, and two Grammys over their six-decade careers, frequently collaborating with composer Michel Legrand and singer Barbra Streisand. Born in Brooklyn in 1925, Bergman knew by age 12 that he wanted to become a songwriter. He studied at the University of North Carolina. Through composer Lew Spence, Bergman met Marilyn, and their professional collaboration soon turned into romance. The couple married in 1958 and welcomed their daughter, Julie, in 1960.'The Way We Were' was the top-selling song of 1974 and earned the Bergmans one of their three Oscars — the others being for 'The Windmills of Your Mind' and the Yentl soundtrack, the Streisand-directed film from 1983. At times, the Academy Awards felt like a Bergman tribute: In 1983, three of the five Best Song nominees featured their lyrics. The Bergmans received 16 Oscar nominations in Bergmans also won two Grammys, four Emmys, were presented numerous lifetime achievement honors and received tributes from individual artists, including Streisand's 2011 album of Bergman songs, 'What Matters Most.' On 'Lyrically, Alan Bergman,' Bergman handled the vocals to people, the Bergmans were inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1979. In 2013, they were given the Recording Academy's Trustee Award. Aside from film, they wrote iconic theme songs for television programs such as Maude and Good Times.- Ends
