I've never been a JFK fan. I think it stems from reading something when I was little about his assassination, and the book said something like, "Not since the death of Abraham Lincoln had the country mourned so much." My favorite President is FDR. I was outraged. People were very upset when Roosevelt died. The country probably was more upset about JFK's assassination...BECAUSE WORLD WAR II WAS STILL GOING ON WHEN ROOSEVELT DIED.
I apparently still feel strongly about this. But honestly, JFK wasn't that good a President. I don't really count "bringing youthful vitality to the White House" that much. He did a good job with the Cuban Missile Crisis, and he did start the process of the civil rights bill. But Bay of Pigs and escalation in Vietnam. So, mixed bag. Him being attractive? Not considered.
I just finished reading Death of a President: November 1963. It was written by William Manchester and published in the late 60s. Manchester had the blessing of Jackie and Bobby and had written a book about Jack earlier, so he knew these people. He interviewed pretty much everyone even tangentially involved with the Kennedys or the assassination. It's a 650-page book. It's very thorough.
Most of the book is a fairly straightforward account of the week surrounding Kennedy's death (from the Wednesday before to the Monday after), and Manchester describes the scenes and people involved vividly. One of the hardest things about reading this book is remembering who everyone mentioned is, which really is a testament to Manchester's work.
In general, I enjoyed it, though if Manchester was trying to hide any biases, he failed miserably. In discussing some of Kennedy's staff, Manchester frequently points out the problem of being loyal to a man versus a position. He makes a lot of the fact people don't refer to Lyndon Johnson as the President...and he is obviously totally fine with people not wanting to call Johnson the President, even well after he was. Manchester frequently includes lines about how hard it must be for Johnson, but it's just lip service. It's pretty clear that while he understands intellectually that Johnson had to start governing, Manchester sure couldn't understand emotionally.
(He also, amusingly, makes a snide comment about someone writing something scandalous about JFK's personal, like obviously there was nothing scandalous there. Heh.)
Manchester also emphasizes how the entire country just spent the entire weekend in mourning, how everyone kept trying to get drunk to dull the pain but it just wouldn't work, how the world stopped for this weekend. (To the point that there was a moment of silence or similar, and trains stopped. Really?!) And yet, he acknowledges that JFK wasn't the most popular in the world. Manchester clearly doesn't like Texas, and blames Dallas for the assassination. So...not everyone was paralyzed by grief. (Including my parents. Not that they didn't like JFK, as far as I know, but I DO know that they had their first date that weekend. So life did indeed go on.)
Speaking of, dude does NOT like Lee Harvey Oswald. He 100% believes that Oswald did it, acting alone. But his portrayal of Oswald is one with zero sympathy, zero empathy, zero redeeming qualities.
Mind you, I found some of the principals in the story somewhat unsympathetic. Jackie was obsessed with making sure Jack would be remembered, which at times came across to me as somewhat unseemly. (Did she really need to add a plaque to his bedroom that he slept there? You, sir, are no Abraham Lincoln.) (Turns out the Nixons removed it. Which is awesome.) On the other hand, she showed a grace and thoughtfulness toward others that was strictly amazing. And who should make a cameo late in the book but Aristotle Onassis!
The bits like that were largely depressing, mostly because of the knowledge of what would happen to Bobby the year after this book was published. Seeing Bobby and Ted in this context was just sobering. Also statements about attempts to pass gun reform bills in the wake of the shooting were all too familiar.
But overall, a good book. I particularly enjoyed finding out the details about what went on between Parkland and Arlington. The random conversations, the debate about where to bury JFK, the odd behavior that wasn't seen as particularly odd, the confusion about tell Caroline and John-John. Fascinating.
A good, if time-consuming, read.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
The unsympathetic heroine
I do love me some trashy romance. After reading a Lisa Kleypas novel in one afternoon last weekend, I've been reading a bunch lately. One book that I downloaded on my Nook was A Little Bit Wild, by Victoria Dahl. It's about a well-bred woman, Marissa, who gets caught in flagrante before she's married. To avoid scandal, she winds up getting betrothed (at least until she can confirm she's not knocked up) to Jude, a friend of her brother.
You will not be surprised to find out that they do, in fact, wind up falling in love.
For the first chunk of the book, I found myself wondering why I was reading it. I didn't like Marissa. She was a snob, thoughtless, spoiled, selfish. Jude had very few problems, other than he wasn't the pretty boy type preferred by Marissa.
But...something happened. Dahl managed to transform Marissa from the twit she was at the beginning to a genuinely nice person. I could sympathize with her at the beginning--she made a mistake. But she acted like a brat, so I couldn't deal with her. Dahl did a fantastic job showing this woman growing up and maturing. It was impressive.
And it called to mind Something Blue, by Emily Giffin. The sequel to Something Borrowed, it tells the story of Darcy, whose fiance Dex left her for her best friend. She gets pregnant and flees to England to force herself upon her friend Ethan--who was not a Darcy fan. The first book was the story of Dex and Rachel and Darcy at no point came across sympathetically. And her attitude in Something Blue is no different.
So. Also an unsympathetic leading lady. We see the story through her eyes. Partway through the book, she has this great epiphany that she's not a good person and is all, "I'll be good now!" The problem here is that Giffin continues to describe Darcy's thoughts...and really, nothing is different. She may act differently on the outside, but at no point do her thoughts progress to a mature woman.I almost feel bad for Ethan at the end, that he's duped by Darcy's actions when we know that her thoughts--who she actually is--hasn't changed at all.
There tends to be a stigma around reading romance novels, but in this case, the romance author far and away did a better job with characterization.
You will not be surprised to find out that they do, in fact, wind up falling in love.
For the first chunk of the book, I found myself wondering why I was reading it. I didn't like Marissa. She was a snob, thoughtless, spoiled, selfish. Jude had very few problems, other than he wasn't the pretty boy type preferred by Marissa.
But...something happened. Dahl managed to transform Marissa from the twit she was at the beginning to a genuinely nice person. I could sympathize with her at the beginning--she made a mistake. But she acted like a brat, so I couldn't deal with her. Dahl did a fantastic job showing this woman growing up and maturing. It was impressive.
And it called to mind Something Blue, by Emily Giffin. The sequel to Something Borrowed, it tells the story of Darcy, whose fiance Dex left her for her best friend. She gets pregnant and flees to England to force herself upon her friend Ethan--who was not a Darcy fan. The first book was the story of Dex and Rachel and Darcy at no point came across sympathetically. And her attitude in Something Blue is no different.
So. Also an unsympathetic leading lady. We see the story through her eyes. Partway through the book, she has this great epiphany that she's not a good person and is all, "I'll be good now!" The problem here is that Giffin continues to describe Darcy's thoughts...and really, nothing is different. She may act differently on the outside, but at no point do her thoughts progress to a mature woman.I almost feel bad for Ethan at the end, that he's duped by Darcy's actions when we know that her thoughts--who she actually is--hasn't changed at all.
There tends to be a stigma around reading romance novels, but in this case, the romance author far and away did a better job with characterization.
Monday, June 25, 2012
The Simpsons and history: A comedy!
My favorite Simpsons episode is "Cape Feare," in which Sideshow Bob gets out of jail and chases the Simpsons, who are in Witness Protection, to Terror Lake. The courtroom scene, the H.M.S. Pinafore performance, the rakes! Genius.
Woolly Mammoth's Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play is set at some point in the near future, after an unnamed catastrophe has turned off the power, wiped cities off the map, and caused nuclear power plants to melt down. A small group of survivors spend their time recounting the plot and memorable quotes of "Cape Feare", and we see the shared history of The Simpsons bring the group together--when they're not confronting strangers with guns and patting them down.
The second and third acts bring us 7 years in the future, then 75 years after that, giving us a chance to see how civilization has progressed and how they remember what life was like "before." The longing of people to be able to relive the past was fascinating, and playwright Anne Washburn's details seemed believable (trying to figure out how many cans of Diet Coke were left, for example, made perfect sense).
The third act gives us the final telling of "Cape Feare," blending the story with how the survivors' descendants viewed the long-past disaster. The play moved from largely comical to a much more dramatic tone.
The play appealed to me as a theatre lover, a fan of The Simpsons, and a historian. ("Historian." History major?) How do we remember what happened? How important is pop culture? How does pop culture influence our lives? When we don't have the resources to remember the details of everything our lives--a post-Google world--how do we share what's important?
It was an entertaining play, and a thought-provoking one. If frustrating. I may have spent part of the first act mentally trying to tell the actors various quotes from the episode. It only made the show that much more relevant to me.
Woolly Mammoth's Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play is set at some point in the near future, after an unnamed catastrophe has turned off the power, wiped cities off the map, and caused nuclear power plants to melt down. A small group of survivors spend their time recounting the plot and memorable quotes of "Cape Feare", and we see the shared history of The Simpsons bring the group together--when they're not confronting strangers with guns and patting them down.
The second and third acts bring us 7 years in the future, then 75 years after that, giving us a chance to see how civilization has progressed and how they remember what life was like "before." The longing of people to be able to relive the past was fascinating, and playwright Anne Washburn's details seemed believable (trying to figure out how many cans of Diet Coke were left, for example, made perfect sense).
The third act gives us the final telling of "Cape Feare," blending the story with how the survivors' descendants viewed the long-past disaster. The play moved from largely comical to a much more dramatic tone.
The play appealed to me as a theatre lover, a fan of The Simpsons, and a historian. ("Historian." History major?) How do we remember what happened? How important is pop culture? How does pop culture influence our lives? When we don't have the resources to remember the details of everything our lives--a post-Google world--how do we share what's important?
It was an entertaining play, and a thought-provoking one. If frustrating. I may have spent part of the first act mentally trying to tell the actors various quotes from the episode. It only made the show that much more relevant to me.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Week of Theater: Summer Edition!
I've apparently given up movies for theater. I can't remember the last movie I saw in the theater, but I've seen three shows in the past week.
(In fairness, I plan on seeing a bunch of movies this weekend.)
Last Thursday, I saw First You Dream: The Music of Kander and Ebb at the Kennedy Center. Other than Chicago, Cabaret, and Kiss of the Spider Woman, I'm not too familiar with their work, but I got a good price for a front-row seat and I'd seen a couple of the cast members before, so figured, why not? And man, I did not regret that decision. What a fabulous night. Three men and three women performed for two hours on a stage bare except for the orchestra--who also managed to become part of the evening, as the cast interacted with them subtly throughout the night. A credit to the show is that it made me want to run out and buy all the songs I heard. Even without context, director Eric Schaeffer created vignettes that needed nothing additional. The first act was a bit more humorous than the second, but both were wonderful. Two standouts in the cast for me were Matthew Scott and Heidi Blickenstaff (though the rest were great, too). Scott's transformation from "She's a Woman" to "Dressing Them Up" (both from Kiss of the Spider Woman) was amazing, and Blickenstaff's balance of belting and singing intimately blew me away. The orchestrations were fascinating; there were some new versions of classics that were extraordinarily well done. Great, great evening.
Tuesday I saw God of Carnage at Signature. The play is actually originally French, but the setting was moved to Brooklyn when the show was translated into American English. Made into a movie with Jodie Foster and Kate Winslet last year, it tells the story of two couples whose sons got into a fight in a park. The play goes into couple dynamics--how they relate to each other, how they relate to other couples--and gender roles. It's a play that is largely very comedic, but has a very serious undertone that becomes less and less "under" as the show goes on. Paul Morella, who plays Alan, reminded me a LOT of Ralph Fiennes. All four actors were excellent; it was a joy to watch them react to each other. A fun evening, though one that I walked out of perhaps a bit more shaken up than I thought I would be as I walked in. I do have to say that while I don't have many complaints about the show, it didn't stick with me the way I perhaps thought it would. I saw it two nights ago, and when I sat down to write this, I had to pause to figure out what that show was that I just saw.
Ending the week of theater is Double Indemnity, performed at Round House. I've seen the movie, but it's been a few years (or, you know, a decade), so my memory of the details of the plot was a bit hazy. For those not familiar, it tells the story of Walter Huff (Neff in the movie), an insurance salesman who hooks up with Phyllis Nirlinger to kill her husband and get the insurance money. The ending of the movie was a bit stronger than that of the play--and the author of the book, after seeing the play, declared Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler's version superior. Marty Lodge was onstage almost the entire night as Huff, and he did a good job, but he had zero chemistry with Celeste Ciulla's Phyllis. His asides the audience were fantastic, but I can't help but feel that the character should be about 20 years younger. I would've been fascinated to see how the play worked with understudy Danny Gavigan in the role. Gavigan played a variety of roles in the play, and I enjoyed him in December in Pride & Prejudice, and I can't help but wonder if his youthfulness may have helped the show. I was very impressed with the lighting and set. The mood was there. I also have to give props to Todd Scofield, who played both Nirlinger and Huff's boss who figures out the murder scheme. In watching one character, I had to remind myself that it was the same actor as the other. As with a number of other shows I've seen at Round House, it was a worthy effort, but not something that I'd tell my friends to run out and see.
A hat tip for the week also goes to One Destiny at Ford's. It's a one-act that tells the story of the Lincoln assassination from the point of view of two of the men present (Harry Hawk--the actor on stage at the time of the shooting--and Harry Ford, owner of the theater). They act out the events leading up to the assassination. It was the 500th performance last night. It's an enjoyable show and a great way to tell the story that's more lively than the normal ranger talks--and one that adds an emotional layer. Kudos to Stephen Schmidt and Michael Bunce for their hundreds of performances over the years!
(In fairness, I plan on seeing a bunch of movies this weekend.)
Last Thursday, I saw First You Dream: The Music of Kander and Ebb at the Kennedy Center. Other than Chicago, Cabaret, and Kiss of the Spider Woman, I'm not too familiar with their work, but I got a good price for a front-row seat and I'd seen a couple of the cast members before, so figured, why not? And man, I did not regret that decision. What a fabulous night. Three men and three women performed for two hours on a stage bare except for the orchestra--who also managed to become part of the evening, as the cast interacted with them subtly throughout the night. A credit to the show is that it made me want to run out and buy all the songs I heard. Even without context, director Eric Schaeffer created vignettes that needed nothing additional. The first act was a bit more humorous than the second, but both were wonderful. Two standouts in the cast for me were Matthew Scott and Heidi Blickenstaff (though the rest were great, too). Scott's transformation from "She's a Woman" to "Dressing Them Up" (both from Kiss of the Spider Woman) was amazing, and Blickenstaff's balance of belting and singing intimately blew me away. The orchestrations were fascinating; there were some new versions of classics that were extraordinarily well done. Great, great evening.
Tuesday I saw God of Carnage at Signature. The play is actually originally French, but the setting was moved to Brooklyn when the show was translated into American English. Made into a movie with Jodie Foster and Kate Winslet last year, it tells the story of two couples whose sons got into a fight in a park. The play goes into couple dynamics--how they relate to each other, how they relate to other couples--and gender roles. It's a play that is largely very comedic, but has a very serious undertone that becomes less and less "under" as the show goes on. Paul Morella, who plays Alan, reminded me a LOT of Ralph Fiennes. All four actors were excellent; it was a joy to watch them react to each other. A fun evening, though one that I walked out of perhaps a bit more shaken up than I thought I would be as I walked in. I do have to say that while I don't have many complaints about the show, it didn't stick with me the way I perhaps thought it would. I saw it two nights ago, and when I sat down to write this, I had to pause to figure out what that show was that I just saw.
Ending the week of theater is Double Indemnity, performed at Round House. I've seen the movie, but it's been a few years (or, you know, a decade), so my memory of the details of the plot was a bit hazy. For those not familiar, it tells the story of Walter Huff (Neff in the movie), an insurance salesman who hooks up with Phyllis Nirlinger to kill her husband and get the insurance money. The ending of the movie was a bit stronger than that of the play--and the author of the book, after seeing the play, declared Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler's version superior. Marty Lodge was onstage almost the entire night as Huff, and he did a good job, but he had zero chemistry with Celeste Ciulla's Phyllis. His asides the audience were fantastic, but I can't help but feel that the character should be about 20 years younger. I would've been fascinated to see how the play worked with understudy Danny Gavigan in the role. Gavigan played a variety of roles in the play, and I enjoyed him in December in Pride & Prejudice, and I can't help but wonder if his youthfulness may have helped the show. I was very impressed with the lighting and set. The mood was there. I also have to give props to Todd Scofield, who played both Nirlinger and Huff's boss who figures out the murder scheme. In watching one character, I had to remind myself that it was the same actor as the other. As with a number of other shows I've seen at Round House, it was a worthy effort, but not something that I'd tell my friends to run out and see.
A hat tip for the week also goes to One Destiny at Ford's. It's a one-act that tells the story of the Lincoln assassination from the point of view of two of the men present (Harry Hawk--the actor on stage at the time of the shooting--and Harry Ford, owner of the theater). They act out the events leading up to the assassination. It was the 500th performance last night. It's an enjoyable show and a great way to tell the story that's more lively than the normal ranger talks--and one that adds an emotional layer. Kudos to Stephen Schmidt and Michael Bunce for their hundreds of performances over the years!
Sunday, June 3, 2012
But you can win me yet
Arena Stage has continued their run of classic musicals with the current The Music Man. A friend managed to snag free tickets, so I checked out their production last night. It stars Burke Moses, who I saw as Sky Masterson on Broadway YEARS ago, and Kate Baldwin, who I apparently saw in 1776 at Ford's in 2003. (She was Martha Jefferson.)
I hadn't seen The Music Man in years. I'm fairly sure I've seen the play at some point. I know I've seen the movie, but it's been a long time. The songs are incredibly enjoyable; Meredith Willson did just a stupendous job with it. And the music allows Arena the room for a lot of great dancing--one of the company's strong points. "Seventy-Six Trombones," "Shipoopi," "Marian the Librarian" all provide fantastic opportunities for entertainment. I could watch those kids dance all day. (You can see a clip of "Shipoopi" on Arena's website.)
I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the story itself, particularly the journey of Marian. I love that the story for her ultimately isn't that she must get the guy. It's that she's opened herself up, has bonded with people in town, isn't the rather dour woman we meet at the beginning of the show. I LOVE that at the end, she's all, "It's cool, you can take off--not a problem. My life is better for having met you, but I am legitimately OK with you leaving." Seriously, how awesome is that? That just seems incredibly progressive to me for a show that was written in the 1950s.
A confusing element was how Hill hoodwinks the people of River City. He really doesn't seem quite as bad as the show wants us to think he is. It's not like he takes these people's money, tells them for weeks that they'll get uniforms and instruments, and leaves town before they realize the supplies are never coming. They get the instruments. They get the uniforms. They even get instruction booklets on how to play. So, the big con is that...he can't actually teach music? That doesn't really seem like such a big deal to me. I mean, hello! The town has a music teacher. Problem solved!
Possibly the biggest problem in the play is the relationship between Marian and Hill. It's a problematic relationship because we don't really get to see many falling-in-love moments for them. Much of their dialogue is antagonistic. It reminds me of My Fair Lady, in that the relationship relies a LOT on the actors playing the parts. (To date, I've seen one production of My Fair Lady where I felt the relationship worked--at Signature, in probably 2006 or 2007.) Kate Baldwin did an admirable job; she managed to convey Marian's emotions--her doubt, her hope, her skepticism. But though Burke Moses did a good job with the slick hucksterism of Hill, I never bought that he felt anything real for Marian. The chemistry wasn't there.
And to make some sort of comment on looking back fondly on "easier" days, the play is set in the 1950s. Kind of. The play itself could never be; it's solidly written in the early 1900s. Hill says he's class of "aught five." They talk about Model Ts. For heavens sake, they get excited about the Wells Fargo wagon. So why stick all these people in clothes from the 1950s? I mean, sure, they look great (who doesn't love 1950s fashion?), but it makes no sense. I hate when theaters do this.
But the singing was good and the dancing was enjoyable. I do continue to have problems with Arena's Fichandler space; I feel like it isn't optimized acoustically. It's a theater-in-the-round, and if an actor isn't facing me while talking, I frequently have no idea what that person said. I don't think I caught a word of what Nehal Joshi's Marcellus Washburn sang in "Shipoopi." I don't think everyone was miked, and it showed. Very badly. I had the same problems during Oklahoma, and I would hope that this kind of thing would be fixed. In this day and age, I shouldn't have to struggle just to make out dialogue.
I hadn't seen The Music Man in years. I'm fairly sure I've seen the play at some point. I know I've seen the movie, but it's been a long time. The songs are incredibly enjoyable; Meredith Willson did just a stupendous job with it. And the music allows Arena the room for a lot of great dancing--one of the company's strong points. "Seventy-Six Trombones," "Shipoopi," "Marian the Librarian" all provide fantastic opportunities for entertainment. I could watch those kids dance all day. (You can see a clip of "Shipoopi" on Arena's website.)
I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the story itself, particularly the journey of Marian. I love that the story for her ultimately isn't that she must get the guy. It's that she's opened herself up, has bonded with people in town, isn't the rather dour woman we meet at the beginning of the show. I LOVE that at the end, she's all, "It's cool, you can take off--not a problem. My life is better for having met you, but I am legitimately OK with you leaving." Seriously, how awesome is that? That just seems incredibly progressive to me for a show that was written in the 1950s.
A confusing element was how Hill hoodwinks the people of River City. He really doesn't seem quite as bad as the show wants us to think he is. It's not like he takes these people's money, tells them for weeks that they'll get uniforms and instruments, and leaves town before they realize the supplies are never coming. They get the instruments. They get the uniforms. They even get instruction booklets on how to play. So, the big con is that...he can't actually teach music? That doesn't really seem like such a big deal to me. I mean, hello! The town has a music teacher. Problem solved!
Possibly the biggest problem in the play is the relationship between Marian and Hill. It's a problematic relationship because we don't really get to see many falling-in-love moments for them. Much of their dialogue is antagonistic. It reminds me of My Fair Lady, in that the relationship relies a LOT on the actors playing the parts. (To date, I've seen one production of My Fair Lady where I felt the relationship worked--at Signature, in probably 2006 or 2007.) Kate Baldwin did an admirable job; she managed to convey Marian's emotions--her doubt, her hope, her skepticism. But though Burke Moses did a good job with the slick hucksterism of Hill, I never bought that he felt anything real for Marian. The chemistry wasn't there.
And to make some sort of comment on looking back fondly on "easier" days, the play is set in the 1950s. Kind of. The play itself could never be; it's solidly written in the early 1900s. Hill says he's class of "aught five." They talk about Model Ts. For heavens sake, they get excited about the Wells Fargo wagon. So why stick all these people in clothes from the 1950s? I mean, sure, they look great (who doesn't love 1950s fashion?), but it makes no sense. I hate when theaters do this.
But the singing was good and the dancing was enjoyable. I do continue to have problems with Arena's Fichandler space; I feel like it isn't optimized acoustically. It's a theater-in-the-round, and if an actor isn't facing me while talking, I frequently have no idea what that person said. I don't think I caught a word of what Nehal Joshi's Marcellus Washburn sang in "Shipoopi." I don't think everyone was miked, and it showed. Very badly. I had the same problems during Oklahoma, and I would hope that this kind of thing would be fixed. In this day and age, I shouldn't have to struggle just to make out dialogue.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Like everything else, ballet always comes back to Sweet Valley
The Bolshoi Ballet is in town, at the Kennedy Center performing Coppelia. I'm somewhat tempted to see it; partly because I've become vaguely interested in ballet since seeing some during my Russia trip last summer, and partly because of Coppelia. I read a book that involved that ballet years ago. Of course, that book was...Sweet Valley Twins #2: Teacher's Pet.
I am high-class, all the way.
In the book, Elizabeth and Jessica are in ballet together, and their class is putting on part of Coppelia in a recital. Elizabeth gets the most coveted role even though Jessica is the better dancer. And Amy Sutton steals the doll (Coppelia, I guess?) because she sucks at dancing, and after stealing the doll, she took the role of the doll.
I confess that I'm kind of intrigued to see how the actual ballet lines up with the plot as I remember it. It's always bizarre when something completely low-brow teaches you about actual culture. Or, like with the Outlander series, when a trashy romance novel teaches me about Scottish history. Everything I know about the Jacobite rebellions, I learned from Diana Gabaldon.
It's encouraging, really. I'm not, like, killing my brain by reading stuff. It might spark a completely unexpected interest.
I am high-class, all the way.
In the book, Elizabeth and Jessica are in ballet together, and their class is putting on part of Coppelia in a recital. Elizabeth gets the most coveted role even though Jessica is the better dancer. And Amy Sutton steals the doll (Coppelia, I guess?) because she sucks at dancing, and after stealing the doll, she took the role of the doll.
I confess that I'm kind of intrigued to see how the actual ballet lines up with the plot as I remember it. It's always bizarre when something completely low-brow teaches you about actual culture. Or, like with the Outlander series, when a trashy romance novel teaches me about Scottish history. Everything I know about the Jacobite rebellions, I learned from Diana Gabaldon.
It's encouraging, really. I'm not, like, killing my brain by reading stuff. It might spark a completely unexpected interest.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
In which my knowledge of history lets me down
Despite being primarily interested in the period surrounded America's Revolutionary War, I found myself taking a bunch of classes in college about European history. I found a professor I really liked, so wound up signing up for classes that I didn't think I'd have any interest in. And thus I found myself taking Modern Russia, which just captivated me. I was fascinated, to the point that I wound up spending 2 weeks in Russia last year.
This, however, was a bit of a hindrance when I saw Brother Russia at Signature last week. It's the world premiere of the musical by John Dempsey and Dana Rowe that tells the story of a troupe of actors in the wilds of present-day Russia. They, then, tell the "story" of Grigori Rasputin--who may or may not be the head of the troupe, a man going by the name Brother Russia.
The focus of the play-within-a-play is the rise of Rasputin, portrayed by Doug Kreeger in a far sexier way than I ever thought about Rasputin. (God bless director Eric Schaeffer for getting Kreeger out of a monk's robe and into some jeans and a sexy, low-cut black shirt.) Kreeger does a fantastic job--his voice is amazing and his portrayal of Grigori's desperation to advance in the world and to be loved was captivating. He spends a lot of time on stage, and even when not the focus of action, my eyes were frequently drawn to him.
Grigori winds up in the court of Tsar Nicholas II and Tsarina Alexandra to care for their son Alexei, who suffers from hemophilia. And there he falls in love with their daughter, Grand Duchess Anastasia, played by Natascia Diaz, who manages to be a picture of vulnerability whether singing the wistful "Siberia" or belting out more rock-influenced numbers.
Throughout the show are breaks in the story, generally as Brother Russia pops in to comment on the story or redirect the actors. The ultimate message of the modern-day players--and thus, I suppose, of the show itself--is something about how art ensures that nobody dies, our stories go on, etc., etc. And we largely get that in the piece at the end of the show, after the play-within-in-a-play has wrapped up, mostly from a speech of Brother Russia, but also from some exposition from Diaz's modern character, Sofya.
The play, you see, isn't about the actual story of Rasputin; it's about how Brother Russia chooses to remember the story. Which, thank God, is acknowledged--again, near the end of the show. The player Viktor (Russell Sunday, who also did a fine job as Nicholas II) gets fed up and details the history the show got wrong. I could've cheered. I spent a lot of the show enjoying it in one part of my brain (particularly "This Is What They Call the Good Life," led by Stephen Gregory Smith as Prince Felix Yusopov, who winds up assassinating Rasputin, and "Vodka," the great number at the top of Act Two, led by Tracy Lynn Olivera), while another part of my brain was shouting, "BUT IT'S WRONG!" I'm sorry. I can't ignore the fact that Anastasia was a child when she first met Rasputin. A child very much loved by her parents.
(I could happily ignore, though, the whole Sexy!Rasputin detail. I'm shallow that way.)
I attended a talkback after the performance and was interested to hear about the development of a musical. I asked the actors how much they researched their roles, as they weren't, you know, historically accurate. I wasn't surprised to hear that Amy McWilliams, who portrayed Alexandra, did a lot of research; the performance matched how I imagine the tsarina. (For the most part. I don't require total accuracy.) Kreeger said that his research focused on how modern-day Russians view Rasputin, which also makes sense. Smith claimed 100% accuracy for his cross-dressing Yusopov. Diaz, whose character strays the farthest from the historical figure, acknowledged that, essentially; the play isn't about the historical story, but about how stories remain with us.
I'm still not sure how I feel about the show. The performances were great, and the songs were incredibly enjoyable. I don't know about the show itself; I'm not sure whether I wish they focused on the theater troupe and used them acting the Rasputin story to highlight their relationships. I don't know whether I want just an odd take on the Rasputin story. (Though really, the actual historical story is AWESOME; why change it?)
I think I prefer my historical musical theater more along the lines of 1776--one that sticks pretty closely to how history actually happened. Or, if it's far off, to be about a topic about which I know very little.
This, however, was a bit of a hindrance when I saw Brother Russia at Signature last week. It's the world premiere of the musical by John Dempsey and Dana Rowe that tells the story of a troupe of actors in the wilds of present-day Russia. They, then, tell the "story" of Grigori Rasputin--who may or may not be the head of the troupe, a man going by the name Brother Russia.
The focus of the play-within-a-play is the rise of Rasputin, portrayed by Doug Kreeger in a far sexier way than I ever thought about Rasputin. (God bless director Eric Schaeffer for getting Kreeger out of a monk's robe and into some jeans and a sexy, low-cut black shirt.) Kreeger does a fantastic job--his voice is amazing and his portrayal of Grigori's desperation to advance in the world and to be loved was captivating. He spends a lot of time on stage, and even when not the focus of action, my eyes were frequently drawn to him.
Grigori winds up in the court of Tsar Nicholas II and Tsarina Alexandra to care for their son Alexei, who suffers from hemophilia. And there he falls in love with their daughter, Grand Duchess Anastasia, played by Natascia Diaz, who manages to be a picture of vulnerability whether singing the wistful "Siberia" or belting out more rock-influenced numbers.
Throughout the show are breaks in the story, generally as Brother Russia pops in to comment on the story or redirect the actors. The ultimate message of the modern-day players--and thus, I suppose, of the show itself--is something about how art ensures that nobody dies, our stories go on, etc., etc. And we largely get that in the piece at the end of the show, after the play-within-in-a-play has wrapped up, mostly from a speech of Brother Russia, but also from some exposition from Diaz's modern character, Sofya.
The play, you see, isn't about the actual story of Rasputin; it's about how Brother Russia chooses to remember the story. Which, thank God, is acknowledged--again, near the end of the show. The player Viktor (Russell Sunday, who also did a fine job as Nicholas II) gets fed up and details the history the show got wrong. I could've cheered. I spent a lot of the show enjoying it in one part of my brain (particularly "This Is What They Call the Good Life," led by Stephen Gregory Smith as Prince Felix Yusopov, who winds up assassinating Rasputin, and "Vodka," the great number at the top of Act Two, led by Tracy Lynn Olivera), while another part of my brain was shouting, "BUT IT'S WRONG!" I'm sorry. I can't ignore the fact that Anastasia was a child when she first met Rasputin. A child very much loved by her parents.
(I could happily ignore, though, the whole Sexy!Rasputin detail. I'm shallow that way.)
I attended a talkback after the performance and was interested to hear about the development of a musical. I asked the actors how much they researched their roles, as they weren't, you know, historically accurate. I wasn't surprised to hear that Amy McWilliams, who portrayed Alexandra, did a lot of research; the performance matched how I imagine the tsarina. (For the most part. I don't require total accuracy.) Kreeger said that his research focused on how modern-day Russians view Rasputin, which also makes sense. Smith claimed 100% accuracy for his cross-dressing Yusopov. Diaz, whose character strays the farthest from the historical figure, acknowledged that, essentially; the play isn't about the historical story, but about how stories remain with us.
I'm still not sure how I feel about the show. The performances were great, and the songs were incredibly enjoyable. I don't know about the show itself; I'm not sure whether I wish they focused on the theater troupe and used them acting the Rasputin story to highlight their relationships. I don't know whether I want just an odd take on the Rasputin story. (Though really, the actual historical story is AWESOME; why change it?)
I think I prefer my historical musical theater more along the lines of 1776--one that sticks pretty closely to how history actually happened. Or, if it's far off, to be about a topic about which I know very little.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Down once more
Phantom of the Opera has snuck back into my consciousness lately. A month or two ago I caught a 2-hour "behind the scenes" look at Phantom, with interviews with all of the major players. And then on Sunday, I stumbled across the 25th anniversary concert being broadcast on PBS.
I loved Phantom. Totally obsessed with it. And it helped me! I learned words like "queue" and "ingenue" (much like how Evita taught me "bourgeoisie"). Of course, I was convinced for a while that a queue was a letter. The conversation is something like:
Andre: Damnable! Will they all walk out? This is damnable!
Firmin: Andre, please don't shout. It's publicity, and the take is vast. Free publicity--
Andre: But we have no cast!
Firmin: But Andre have you seen the queue? Oh, it seems you got one, too.
See, what happens between those two sentences in the last bit is that Firmin has picked up notes (thus the name of the song, "Notes") and noticed that one is for Andre. However, just listening to the song and not seeing the show itself for another 6 years, you don't know that. And because you're 10, you don't know that a queue isn't a letter.
I spent many, many hours in the basement of our house in Connecticut acting Phantom out. I've decided that my parents probably weren't too terribly concerned about the amount of time I spent in our basement; I was making decent grades and had a fairly active social life, so it's wasn't too worrisome. But still, I was enough of a dork to actually copy out the notes from the Phantom. Props!
So I've been listening to it again, and I do still really enjoy it. Raoul still sucks, but I don't think I ever really liked him. (And that was before the movie came out, with Raoul ditching Christine as soon as the Phantom shows up at the end of "Masquerade.") (Although the guy who plays him in the 25th anniversary concert has fantastic hair.) Good plot, good characters, good music...I'm still a fan.
Not that I wasn't tempted to go to a showing of the sequel tonight and mock it for all its worth. Talk about a bad idea.
I loved Phantom. Totally obsessed with it. And it helped me! I learned words like "queue" and "ingenue" (much like how Evita taught me "bourgeoisie"). Of course, I was convinced for a while that a queue was a letter. The conversation is something like:
Andre: Damnable! Will they all walk out? This is damnable!
Firmin: Andre, please don't shout. It's publicity, and the take is vast. Free publicity--
Andre: But we have no cast!
Firmin: But Andre have you seen the queue? Oh, it seems you got one, too.
See, what happens between those two sentences in the last bit is that Firmin has picked up notes (thus the name of the song, "Notes") and noticed that one is for Andre. However, just listening to the song and not seeing the show itself for another 6 years, you don't know that. And because you're 10, you don't know that a queue isn't a letter.
I spent many, many hours in the basement of our house in Connecticut acting Phantom out. I've decided that my parents probably weren't too terribly concerned about the amount of time I spent in our basement; I was making decent grades and had a fairly active social life, so it's wasn't too worrisome. But still, I was enough of a dork to actually copy out the notes from the Phantom. Props!
So I've been listening to it again, and I do still really enjoy it. Raoul still sucks, but I don't think I ever really liked him. (And that was before the movie came out, with Raoul ditching Christine as soon as the Phantom shows up at the end of "Masquerade.") (Although the guy who plays him in the 25th anniversary concert has fantastic hair.) Good plot, good characters, good music...I'm still a fan.
Not that I wasn't tempted to go to a showing of the sequel tonight and mock it for all its worth. Talk about a bad idea.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Maybe the tv show is better?
I never got into Sex and the City. I've seen a few episodes here and there, and I saw the movie. But that's about it. I've never read anything Candace Bushnell has written. So when I was playing around on my library's ebook selection and saw that Lipstick Jungle was available immediately (a rarity, but this is neither the time nor the place), I decided to check it out. I'm always happy to read chick lit, particularly when avoiding reading something a bit heavier (in this case, I should be reading Middlemarch for my book club).
After reading it, I can't say that I feel I've been missing out. In reading some of the reviews, maybe it was the book; a lot of people seemed to find it worse than Bushnell's other books. Part of my problem is that it's a book about rich, powerful, attractive women. Those are not things that I can really relate to. (Other than being a woman.) And Bushnell clearly had a feminist agenda, which is fine, but man, it was incredibly heavy-handed. I don't know Bushnell's story at all, but she doesn't come across as someone who likes men. There were numerous occasions of the characters needing to hear things that could only come from their girlfriends and long rants about how women have to act like men and blah blah blah.
The main problem, though, was with the main characters. The book follows three best friends: Nico (runs a magazine), Victory (fashion designer), and Wendy (head of a movie company). They were basically the same character. I spent the book trying to figure out which story was Wendy's and which was Nico's. It didn't help that Bushnell tends to start chapters and sections of chapter establishing a scene without explicitly stating who's in it (or how much time has passed since the previous chapter/section). When the characters all have the same traits. just sticking someone in a room doesn't differentiate. Of course, even when she did say who it was, I kept getting mixed up. Is Wendy the one having the affair, and Nico the one with the slacker husband?
All in all, it doesn't make me want to run out and read another Bushnell book. If the characters are people I can't really relate to, I at least want their stories to be unique and compelling. This book was neither.
After reading it, I can't say that I feel I've been missing out. In reading some of the reviews, maybe it was the book; a lot of people seemed to find it worse than Bushnell's other books. Part of my problem is that it's a book about rich, powerful, attractive women. Those are not things that I can really relate to. (Other than being a woman.) And Bushnell clearly had a feminist agenda, which is fine, but man, it was incredibly heavy-handed. I don't know Bushnell's story at all, but she doesn't come across as someone who likes men. There were numerous occasions of the characters needing to hear things that could only come from their girlfriends and long rants about how women have to act like men and blah blah blah.
The main problem, though, was with the main characters. The book follows three best friends: Nico (runs a magazine), Victory (fashion designer), and Wendy (head of a movie company). They were basically the same character. I spent the book trying to figure out which story was Wendy's and which was Nico's. It didn't help that Bushnell tends to start chapters and sections of chapter establishing a scene without explicitly stating who's in it (or how much time has passed since the previous chapter/section). When the characters all have the same traits. just sticking someone in a room doesn't differentiate. Of course, even when she did say who it was, I kept getting mixed up. Is Wendy the one having the affair, and Nico the one with the slacker husband?
All in all, it doesn't make me want to run out and read another Bushnell book. If the characters are people I can't really relate to, I at least want their stories to be unique and compelling. This book was neither.
Monday, January 2, 2012
2011 in reivew: Theater
Parentheses indicate where I saw the show.
The Carpetbagger's Children (Ford's)
Sunset Blvd. (Signature)
Jersey Boys (National tour)
Les Miserables (National tour) (...twice)
Liberty Smith (Ford's)
How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (Broadway)
Follies (Kennedy Center)
Side by Side by Sondheim (Signature)
Oklahoma! (Arena)
I Capture the Castle (Signature)
Guys & Dolls (Tour)
The Boy Detective Fails (Signature)
Sweet Tea: Black Gay Men of the South (Signature)
Parade (Ford's)
Hugh Jackman Back on Broadway (Broadway)
Hairspray (Signature)
A Christmas Carol (Ford's)
A Second Chance (Signature)
You, Nero (Arena)
Pride and Prejudice (Round House)
Much Ado About Nothing (Shakespeare)
Looking back, Parade was my favorite; Signature's Hairspray was fabulous as well, and of course I loved Les Mis. And I may still be swooning over Hugh Jackman. There aren't any I didn't enjoy; I'm so fortunate that I got to see so many shows last year.
The Carpetbagger's Children (Ford's)
Sunset Blvd. (Signature)
Jersey Boys (National tour)
Les Miserables (National tour) (...twice)
Liberty Smith (Ford's)
How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (Broadway)
Follies (Kennedy Center)
Side by Side by Sondheim (Signature)
Oklahoma! (Arena)
I Capture the Castle (Signature)
Guys & Dolls (Tour)
The Boy Detective Fails (Signature)
Sweet Tea: Black Gay Men of the South (Signature)
Parade (Ford's)
Hugh Jackman Back on Broadway (Broadway)
Hairspray (Signature)
A Christmas Carol (Ford's)
A Second Chance (Signature)
You, Nero (Arena)
Pride and Prejudice (Round House)
Much Ado About Nothing (Shakespeare)
Looking back, Parade was my favorite; Signature's Hairspray was fabulous as well, and of course I loved Les Mis. And I may still be swooning over Hugh Jackman. There aren't any I didn't enjoy; I'm so fortunate that I got to see so many shows last year.
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