Spontaneous Musings

1. Tempting but pricey: A Writers Workshop with two Writing Professors, who specialize in genre blending. The program is supposed to address craft issues common to fiction in all its forms, whether mainstream or genre. But alas, it's $575. In Brooklyn, but $575. Also, next week is going to be busy, busy, busy and people intensive at work. (Lots of traveling back and forth to Jamaica from Manhattan - which is an hour, and various meetings that I have to present stuff in, listen closely, and/or facilitate. My job is partly to run. present at, facilitate, and coordinate meetings that involve projects that I'm procuring.) So...no. And, at this point I've taken so many writing courses, I could teach a course about it. But tempting, definitely tempting.

The science fiction novel that I'm currently working on has a huge plot bunny. Or mcguffin that I'm struggling with. ( Read more... )

2. Saw The Robber Bridegroom today, 2pm matinee showing, which was relatively uncrowded. I got to move up five-six rows. So that I was about five to six rows from the stage.

It's a fun, interactive musical, told in the style of a tall tail and adapted from Eudora Welty's short story of the same name. Actually, Margaret Atwood used the idea in her novel, entitled The Robber Bride. Stephen Pasqual who is known mainly for various supporting television roles, portrayed the lead character, Jaime Lockhart. And the man definitely has a pair of pipes on him - he can sing, and well. So could the others, but he's really good. They had a live bluegrass band on the stage, which intermingled with the actors.

I've recently re-discovered my love of bluegrass music, so thoroughly enjoyed it. It was put on by the Roundabout Theater Company, an off-broadway, not for profit company. They put on numerous plays each season. Afterward, they were collecting funds for HIV Drive - so I gave a donation.

I wouldn't say it was great theater, but definitely worth the price of admission -- and enjoyable.

Some interesting gender metaphors and cultural metaphors on play during it. And it has fine old time poking fun at stereotypes. A bit off-color in humor, may offend a few folks out there, and definitely raunchy, but fun.

Debated getting tickets to Richard the II at BAM, with David Tennant in the lead, but alas, it's sold out - standby tickets only. And I don't have the patience or time to do standby, did that in my 20s.

Remember doing it in London - to see Phantom of the Opera, which had just opened in London. I was so disappointed by the performance, that I swore never to do it again. (We stood in line every day after class for a week. I was in London in the 1980s for a Theater Studies Program, we saw theater and wrote critical meta-reviews about it. It was mostly classical theater, Shakespeare, or 18th Century pieces. I don't think we saw anything that was modern.)

I make it a point to see at least three theatrical performances a year -- my favorite art form is live theater. I adore it to pieces, but I'm not willing to spend hours waiting in line for it any longer. Some people love live music (which is sort of wasted on me, (can never hear it properly and I found watching people standing and singing on stage boring), I love live-storytelling. It's a bone of contention between my brother and I, he adores live concerts, hates theater, I'm the exact of opposite. To me -- story and metaphor and characters are everything. We have similar differences regarding our taste in art as well - he prefers conceptual art or minimalistic abstract art, I prefer art that tells a story or conveys an emotion or feeling. Although we are similar in some ways as well, neither of us have any paintings, posters, photos, or drawings on our walls - yet we're both artists. Which my niece and parents consider odd. We also both prefer serial television series. Neither of us play video games or are into spectator sports, we watch them with ambivalence. Having a sibling feels at times like a double-edged sword, or a gift that spits in your face, repeatedly.)

3. The city is in partial bloom. Lots of flowering trees in my area, and the weeping willows in front of my apartment complex and along Ocean Parkway and Ditmas Park are quite lovely sprigs of kelly green. The areas becoming increasingly gentrified. And more populated than it was when I moved to NYC back in 1996. Today, I was once again near the vicinity of my office -- making me miss the days the office was situated in Jamaica, not in the city. Talk about culture shocks. Old office was in a run-down Carribean/Haitian neighborhood, and next door to various projects or low-rent housing. New area is rather upscale in comparison. We're next door to J Crew and across the street from Brooks Brothers. Oh, and Berkely College is just down the block. Before it was Jamaica Community College. And each Wednesday, they'd give away food to the homeless and destitute in Rufus King Park. While at the new location, it's ice skating and wine bars in Bryant Park. The homeless are studiously ignored. One young guy's been rather industrious, he's set up shop between two doorways next to Barnes and Noble. He lies on a mat, with a blanket. Sheltered underneath the awning. With a sign - I'm homeless, friendless, with no family, and no job -- please help. One day, I gave him five bucks. Now, I'm beginning to wonder why no one has moved him into a shelter. In Jamaica, they were moved into shelters. Also, he seems rather clean and well-kept for a homeless person.

The Roundabout Theater was located between 6th and 7th avenues, off of 46th street. Just a few blocks north of the fancy Grace building, which houses amongst other things, HBO Television and Film Studios. (I applied for a job there once in the licensing department, glad I didn't get it, it doesn't pay well and I'd have been bored out of my mind in a month.) Lots of fancy clothing stores on Mad Avenue and 5th, such as Brooks Brothers, Ann Taylor, Elle Tahiri, J Crew, Paul Stewart, Urban Outfitters, and Sketchers (less fancy). Not so much on 6th and 7th, which are reserved for restaurants and cultural venues, like the Steinway Piano Store. Few trees until you get to Bryant Park. It's very much the concrete and glass jungle that you've seen on television, where you feel like you are walking through a concrete canyon of buildings, various shapes, sizes and styles. But all painted gray, brown, white, and black or shades of each.

I've lived and worked around the city for so long now, that I barely notice. And zig-zagging through lots of people to get from point A to point Z is second nature to me now. It has it colorful touches for the observant - the buskers who perform underground and above ground, the clothing styles, which included today, a man walking towards me in a kilt. The various spoken languages and accents.

The city has a buzz to it, a vibrancy...that sings beneath one's feet. An energy. It can be exhausting at times. By the time I got home, which took about 45 minutes, I was exhausted. Weirdest thing, it takes about 45 minutes to get anywhere in this city, regardless of where you are coming from. It's bizarre. We used to joke about it. Took me exactly 45 minutes to get to the theater and to get home, and it was 18 stops on the subway. Straight shot on the F, thankfully. Got off in front of the HBO store.

Saw the Revival of Pippin last night at Music Box Theater, located between Broadway and 8th Avenue, on 45 street in Manhattan (aka to tourists NYC).

In a word? Amazing.

I don't how the choreographer did it - but somehow she managed to meld the best of Bob Fosse's grinding dance routines with cirque du soliel's acrobatics, and magic tricks. The show was a magical fest for the eyes and mind. Taking place beneath a circus tent, and heavy on metaphorical imagery and ironical lyrical twists.

It's most likely not for the metaphor blind. Although, if you are metaphor blind, you most likely will enjoy the acrobatics and the magic tricks, not to mention the comedic bits - such as the actors playing chickens in the second act, who were a hoot.

And Petina Miller is a sight to behold as the "leading player" originally portrayed by Ben Vereen in the 1970s production. The only change from the original cast - was Annie Potts as Berthe (Granny) as opposed to Andrea Martin, which worked beautifully. She does a trapeze number while singing "Time to Start Living", an audience sing-a-long number. Pippin unlike other musicals, breaks the fourth wall, the audience is to a degree an active participant. The players talk directly to the audience. And at the end of Pippin, inform the audience, that they continue to exist inside every members heads - so if you feel the need to be "extraordinary" and "have that final blaze glory", they will appear.

Best theater performance that I've seen in years - it blew me away. My jaw hung open in childish delight through 98% of it. Can't say the same about the tape of the previous production with Ben Vereen - which I found sluggish in places, and my attention often wandered. Here - while it is still a long show, my attention was always captivated by what was happening on stage and at various points they had things happen in the aisles, so it was beneficial to be in the orchestra seats. Although the things that happened in the aisles were not crucial to following the story.

The Music Box Theater by Broadway standards is not bad, you can the stage fairly well, but the seats...are cramped close together and clearly created for small people. I had an aisle seat - so was able to stick my long legs in the aisle through most of the show, the guy next to me wasn't as fortunate. Concession prices were worse than airport prices - $5.00 for a small water bottle (no you can't bring your own).

What's Pippin about? It's a sort of allegorical piece.

( plot spoilers )

The book and lyrics were at first considered trite by theater critics, but Fosse's staging changed all that, as does this directors staging and arrangement. In theater - it's how the show is performed that often counts not the words on the page. Although...I have to admit I love some of the songs from Pippin. And the dance numbers, along with the circus acts and magic tricks - are quite good and do an excellent job of bringing out several of the themes. This production in some respects is more subtle than Fosse's, and more comical. It's lighter.
And a whole lot more fun.

Oh, if you ever need to find a bathroom between 44th Street and 45th Streets on 8th Avenue?
Go to the Intercontinental Hotel, elevators, B level, hang a right, to the back. Best bathrooms in Times Square. Clean. Have hand lotion. And individual booths with actual doors.
Also free. Just make sure you look decent. Actually that's the trick to bathroom hunting in big cities: find a Hotel. If you can't find one? Try a Barnes and Nobles. If you can't find that? A pub or walk-in bar. Also churches and museums. It's actually easier to find a decent bathroom in NYC than it is elsewhere, weird, but true.

Went to urgent care this morning to get antibotics to deal with my chronic cough - which instead of getting better, has gotten worse, dang it. Got the dreaded antiboitics and cough syrup (laced with codeine) and came home. So today was fairly low-key. (I type as I hack. Hate chest coughs.)

Yesterday, we wandered about Beaufort, SC which has changed a great deal. Not one but two of our beloved book stores have closed. One was in an old firehouse. They want to put a restaurant or bar in it, as if they don't have enough already. But we had a nice gumbo at the historic Plums, a rollicking laid-back seafood joint, and candy cane ice cream at an old fashioned ice cream parlor. Well, I had the candy cane ice cream (because peppermint ice cream is my fav), Momster had chocolat and Popster Vanilla/Orange Sorbet. And we took a quite stroll along the Broad River, which included sitting in a wooden swing, just soaking in the sunshine. It was a lovely day - in the mid-sixities. Once we returned home, I sat outside for a bit and read.

Tuesday - we saw the musical Hello Dolly. ( review of Hello Dolly )

Am charging up the old Kindle, so taking a break from the page-turner that Catching Fire book two of Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games triology has become. I rather like the new characters - Finnick and Johanna, and Beetee.

( vague spoilers for Catching Fire )

On Tuesday night, my parents took me to the musical The Drowsy Chaperone, which was playing at the relatively new Marquis theater located inside the Marriot hotel on Broadway. The Marquis is amongst the better theaters that I've been inside of, Studio 64 being amongst the worst. It has more leg room than most, fairly comfortable seats, and excellent accoustics. Of course we were only five rows from the stage, with orchestra seats. I was with my folks - if I was seeing it with friends or by my lonesome, I'd be in nosebleed territory otherwise known as the far reaches of the upper Mezzaine. Having had seats up there, I can tell you the experience is quite different. In fact, it would be better to see the show on tv than see it in the Mezzaine. Why? Unless the theater has great accoustics or is small enough -you can't hear most of the words or lyrics. If the seats aren't sloped or staggered, you don't see much either. Live theater much like live concerts is better the closer you are to the stage. When you sit at the back, you are basically watching and listening to the audience as much as if not more than the performance. I've done this, each time, I am disappointed and a bit annoyed that I've spent 35 to 55 bucks, with my knees cramped up to my chin, peering over heads, and craning my neck to see and hear a bunch of people far below me on the stage. In today's world - seeing a play or musical from a decent vantage point is reserved for students with discounts and/or contacts or the absurdly wealthy. You think I'm joking? Here's the prices of orchestra seats in most of the theaters around town: 110-150 dollars. It cost a friend of mine, $900 to take four people to see the new Tom Stoppard play. Wicked? 175 dollars a ticket. Jersey Boys? 120. And don't talk to me about Spring Awakening - you can't even get seats according to the people chatting behind us.

At any rate this is a rather lengthy explanation as to why I only see theater, good theater, when my parents decide to visit me in NYC, splurge on it and take me along for the ride. My parents are theater buffs - they see about five to ten shows a year in Hilton Head, many as good if not better than what you might see on Broadway not to mention a heck of a lot cheaper - I think orchestra seats cost maybe thirty to fifty bucks there. Growing up? We saw at least two or three plays or musicals a year, went to the ballet, and if they'd been into opera and had the money - gone to that too. But, alas, they did not get into opera until they hit their dotage and actually had the money to afford it - so my brother and I managed to skip out on that cultural experience. I've only seen one opera live - Carmen. And I've seen two versions of it, one at the National Opera Company in Convent Gardens London (which I've forgotten the name of because it was way back in 1987) and one at a local high school in Lawrence, Kansas, neither was very good. The best might have been the high school version - which is saying something. (It wasn't just me, opera fanatics hated the London version.) My brother hates plays and musicals - he prefers rock concerts or live musical performances. So he didn't come.

The Drowsy Chaperone was not at all what I expected. I suggested it to my parents, because the music and style of the play fit what interested them. Jazz and big band tunes with a curmudgenly host giving bits and pieces of commentary. I did not expect to enjoy it as much as I did. I expected it to be sweet, a little funny, and to forget it soon afterward. Much like Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and Hairspray.

It is unlike any play or musical I have ever seen. And as result hard to describe. The story is about a man who is sitting alone in his NYC studio apartment, complete with drop down bed and old style refrigerator. It is November and he's feeling sort of blue. So he puts on a favorite show tune album, one that he has listened to numerous times, but never ever seen performed. He'd gotten it from his mother - it had been her favorite. It's different, he tells the audience that he imagines sits just beyond him, than the musicals on today. It's sunnier, shorter, less politically correct, and in some ways more comforting even with its considerable flaws - all of which he points out during the show apologetically and at times snarkily. The record has been played so many times that it skips in places and he has to stop it. Or he will have it interrupted by a phone ringing, and scream at the phone to stop, just so he can escape a bit longer into his fantasy. There's even a place on the recording - that has been garbled and he has become obsessed with to the point of distraction. He's replayed this portion millions of times. It concerns one line of dialogue, a piece of advice, that the Drowsey Chaperone gives her young charge, Janet, regarding marriage. Does she say "Leave while you can? Or is it Live while you can?" He's not certain.

The musical is not so much a musical as a musical within a one-man play. Oh the muscial has numerous actors, sets, songs, and dance numbers - but both the audience and the characters in it are clearly inside the narrator's head.

Watching it moved me to laughter and tears, because I identified with it. As I think anyone would who has ever been obsessed or devoted to a book, a record, a tv show or a movie or a play to the point that they spend time endlessly looking at it, turning it over, analyzing, criticizing, writing fanfic on it, and discussing with others.

It's a story about the escape into that fantasy world. The cost of escaping into it. And to a degree the benefits. How escaping to that world acts as a weird sort of drug. But that's not all it is about - at the same time, it operates as a deft satire of the present state of musical theater and live performance. There are throw-away lines about how the comical impersonations of foreign personnages have been banned from adult theater and relegated to children's theater and cartoons run by Disney, or the pyro-tech of shows such as Miss Saigon aren't really much more advanced than the Busby Berkley numbers of yester-year. How a cell phone or even an intermission will destroy the moment - the moment when you are transported inside another world outside of this one, one that is comfortable and happy and makes you smile. The silliness of certain scenes. How a lovely tune can be almost destroyed by inane and almost laughable lyrics.

If there's a theme - it is symbolized by a rousing tune sung by the Drowsy Chaperone, the dipsy half-drunk chaperon to the heroine in the musical the man in the chair has described for us. "Stumbling Along Life's Highway" it is called or something to that effect. About how all we can do is stumble along and hope somehow, someway we will come out okay. An anthem that cheers the man in the chair, who is weighted down by his lonliness, yet at the same time too comfortable within it to take action and seek out others. The best he can do is talk to the audience in his head that never answers back.

I saw the musical on Tuesday and it haunts me still. It feels post-modernist in structure, with multiple layers. The satirical comedy at the top, with somewhat bittersweet metaphysical one just underneath. Who is real, one wonders at the end of it. The audience, the man in the chair, or the musical. Each world sits outside the next. At the end, only at the very end, do the three merge, the actors in the musical notice the man in the chair and his world and invite him inside theirs to escape it. Then they all bow to the audience. You'd think that was the end, but it's not. Not quite. The last bit before the curtain falls is the man sitting back in his chair, reading a book, escaping into yet another world.

The Drowsy Chaperonee walked away with mulitple Tony's and Outer Circle Critics Awards when it premiered in 2006, shocking the theater elite. It took Tony's for best music and lyrics, score, set design, as well as many other categories including one for the actress portraying The Drowsey Chaperone.

If you ever get the chance to see this gem, I highly recommend it. Even if you don't like musicals very much. It is that perfect satire, one that loves the item that it pokes fun at while commenting on it at the same time, telling us a little bit more about ourselves in the process.