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Tag Archives: Brenda Tobias

Just Say Know

A new diet pill is about to be approved!  All our cares are about to be over.  This magic pill (approved by our very own Federal Drug Administration) will put an end to our nation’s demise d’jour; obesity.  The drug is not new, its approval is though.  The drug hasn’t changed.  It’s still a wonder pill which; a) causes tumors in rats b) damages (human) heart valves c) and doesn’t cause much weight loss.  Happy Days are indeed here again!

So why, after 13 years of diet pill drought, is the F.D.A. approving a drug they previously deemed not worthy of approval?  Why do we think.  Peer pressure is not just for teenagers.  There are (to my way of thinking) only two diet pill designs that could work.  A medication can either prevent or eradicate the absorption of calories or it can render a person incapable of eating (i.e., create permanent nausea.)  It’s hard to fathom how either of those approaches can be safely achieved (not to mention why anyone would want to risk malnutrition of feel permanently car sick.)  Why then, with all the diseases out there, would the F.D.A. (or any drug manufacturer) spend time and resources on this endeavor?  Money.

Insurance companies would be all over a diet pill.  Individuals will be clamoring for it.  Can you imagine the advertising?  I’m picturing men and women being unchained from their heft, the sound of angels, an appearance of a rainbow, and the hushed rushed intonation of “may cause tumors, death and does not lead to significant weight loss.”  Good times.  (An aside: There was a time when cigarettes were marketed to Americans as a weight loss device.)

Might I suggest that if the federal government has fear of being left behind in this 21st century scourge, that the Department of Agriculture steps up?  A simple labeling policy that sets a limit to the processing a food can undergo and still be deemed food, would change our country.  There is precedence for this kind of intervention.  There was a time when anything could be sold as juice.  It was only through the intervention of the government that our nation began to enjoy “drink.”  If ultra-processed foods were deemed the equivalent of “drink” they could no longer be served to children in federally subsidized programs.  These ‘food-like’ products could not be purchased with any funds linked to the government at all.  Food-like items and purveyors would be limited in their advertising and marketing.  The trickle down would mean a shift in product placement in movies and television.  Amusement parks, movie theatres and other holding tanks for children would identify food and food-like products.  Children would grow up knowing the difference between; whole foods, processed foods, and food simulated products.

It seems so easy doesn’t it?  No chaos, no chastising, no food pyramids getting mauled into new shapes.  So why isn’t this happening?  Money.  It is very hard to become morbidly obese from eating real (21st century) foods.  It is also not all that profitable to grow/produce and sell whole foods.  But you know what’s really profitable?  Selling products as food (with all the subsidized benefits that implies) with enormous mark-up, that’s what.  There isn’t much room for mark-up on a head of broccoli, but on frozen and boxed food, the sky’s the limit.  Without sounding too cloak and dagger, there is a lot of money at stake and not just for the pockets of the food producers (conspiratorial wink here.)

Yes there are greater nefarious doings going on in the world.  But every time a government entity waves the banner of the “Obesity Epidemic” we are reminded that we are supposed to keep our eyes on the banner, and never ever look behind it.  It seems that whenever we declare “war” on a social ill, it’s actually a sign that we’re giving up.

 

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Gentlemen Prefer Blondes – Review

NY City Center Encores! production of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes belongs to the Ensemble, and it’s in very good hands!  Rob Berman’s orchestra is superb and is neatly paired with Randy Skinner’s lush choreography.  This show is filled with dance and cast with actual dancers.  The chorus is actual singers as well.

There is a number towards the end of Act I, “In the Champ de Mars” when the chorus does not use body microphones.  They stand on the edge of the stage and sing out.  It is practically disorienting to hear sound and be able to locate its source.  These singers do not need amplification or tricks of any kind, they are the real thing.  If hearing truly talented singers unplugged isn’t enough to knock your socks off there are Attmore & Grimes.  Yowza.  This tap-dancing duo (in real life as well) perform “Mamie is Mimi” with Megan Skiro (a spit-fire dancer brimming with all kinds of personality.)  It has been a very (very) long time since I have seen this kind of dancing anywhere but in an old MGM movie.  Simply stunning.

While Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (Music: Jule Styne, Lyrics: Leo Rubin, Book: Anita Loos & Joseph Fields) is not the most riveting of musicals, director John Rando made much of it.  There is enough fun and powerful talent in this production that I found myself fantasizing of a dream team of Kristin Chenoweth and Laura Benanti as Lorelei and Dorothy.  Those roles are currently filled with Megan Hilty and Rachel York.  The audience loved them, and Mr. Rando predicted it.  Every number of Ms. Hilty’s was split into three parts, allowing the audience to applaud in triplicate.  Ms. York came in at the end of dance numbers to throw her arms up and receive applause.  I’m not sure Dorothy needs to be a dancer, so it’s best to keep her off the stage and allow the dancer’s their moment.  The audience was so enamored with Ms. Hilty that at one point they wildly applauded her dress.  Yet I found this duo unsettling.  Ms. York almost disappeared as Dorothy (when she wasn’t taking a bow.)  Ms. Hilty’s interpretation seemed more Betty Boop (with blond wig) than Lorelei.  When the second act opens, Dorothy and friend enter in red dresses.  The blond with her seemed so much more toned down than in Act I.  I let out a small sigh of relief.  Then I realized the blond was in fact Mrs. Spofford (Ella Rush) and not Lorelei.

See this show for the dancing and the incredible orchestra.  See this show to remember what songs sound like with out technical tricks.  See this show to experience an Overture and Entr’acte.  None of these elements should be taken for granted.  If you’ve ever experience a Broadway musical at which the conductor is waving his arms to an empty pit (the music being piped in from the basement and locales unknown) you know exactly what I mean.

 
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Posted by on May 10, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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The Columnist – Review

The Columnist, by David Auburn, is based upon the true story of Joseph Aslop.  The play, directed with breathtaking precision by Daniel Sullivan, spans approximately fifteen years (1954 – late 1960s.)  The storyline is tightly woven into the time periods.  We experience the cold war, the Kennedy administration and; (the elephant in the room) the Vietnam War.

There is a reason this period of time is often used as a backdrop; it is simply riveting.  Movies and television have played with the cultural and political extremes of the period.  There’s no “playing” in The Columnist.  This is a true story.  There seems to be many plays about real people that are little more than monologues impassionedly delivered to the balcony.  This is not one of those.  This is a well-crafted story with three-dimensional characters.  The play works so solidly that you needn’t know the people were real.  (Clearly many in the audience had no framework for “real” as the murmuring explanations of the Kennedy assassination would indicate.  Really?  How many times did the actors declare it was November 1963?!  What are they teaching in high school?)

John Lithgow is Joseph, perhaps it’s more accurate to write that “he plays Joseph” but to this viewer he was Joseph.  Mr. Lithgow is entirely comfortable in the skin of a man not entirely comfortable in his own skin.  Joseph is a popular columnist (syndicated in 190 newspapers – are there still 190 newspapers in this country?)  He is well-educated and talented conservative columnist with the ears of the nation’s leaders.  He also prefers the company of men, leading to a blackmailing incident that is a bit of a thread throughout the play.  Joseph does marry; a lovely widow and perfect hostess for his many parties; Susan (the dreamy Margaret Colin.)  Ms. Colin is almost unrecognizable as Susan, not physically; she’s as beautiful as ever.  She is every inch the Susan as Mr. Lithgow is Joseph.  Their family unit is rounded off by Joseph’s brother Stewart (Boyd Gaines) and Susan’s daughter Abigail (Grace Gummer.)

Mr. Gaines has a wonderful role in Stewart.  His interactions with David Halberstam (Stephen Kunken) allow us to see the wheels turning and the guards shifting.  Stewart, unlike his brother, relishes intimate connections.  (We suspect Joseph hosts Robert McNamara and Westmoreland partly to avoid personal dinner table chitchat.)  It is on Mr. Gaines’ face and in his posture that we see the weight of life’s events.  Ms. Gummer on the other hand becomes lighter and freer as she grows into a turbulent time.  She (brilliantly) evolves from a child to a woman.  Her relationship with Joseph creates some of the more joyous moments of the play.

There is a school of thought that cautions that it’s never good news for a play when it’s the set that is mentioned.  Rubbish.  The dramatic seamless transitions of time and space are intricately linked to the magic of John Lee Beatty.  “Seamless” is the operative term as so many shows introduce their lumbering sets with the sound of pulleys, wheels or grunting stagehands.  The Columnist set is brilliantly used to support the play and the actors.  The same is true for Rocco Disanti’s projection design.  A favorite moment is when the overhead typed words melted into falling snowflakes.

The Columnist is perfectly performed and produced (by Manhattan Theatre Club) and is a breath of fresh air in the “true politics and figures as characters” category of theatre.  The story is compelling and the tempo never falters.  The play does not however pack much of an emotional wallop.  There is a moment, delivered without any sentimentality by Ms. Gummer that creates a bit of a lump in the throat, reminding us of this absence.

The Columnist is at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre until June 24th.

 
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Posted by on May 9, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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One For My Baby

Parents have been arrested for throwing their children a booze infused party.  Perhaps I’m being a bit incendiary with the phrase; “throwing their children a (party)”  However, I suspect that teenagers and their tons of friends did not buy the alcohol themselves, and certainly not with their own money.  The justification that these gated community Queens parents make is the standard: “I’d rather they did it at home.”

Can we just tease that apart a bit?  It’s sounds so wholesome on the surface, doesn’t it?  “Baking: I’d rather they did it at home.”  It suggests supervision and perhaps even an informal tutorial.  Nobody is hosting wine tasting parties for their teens (to my knowledge.)  These kids are drinking to get drunk.  That is the goal.  Drinking as a social behavior takes a level of sophistication and social ease that teenagers rarely possess.  They drink to get drunk, they use prescription drugs to get high or stoned, they use street drugs (and freaking aerosol cans!) for the same reason.  Would these same parents host a few dozen teenagers and pass out methamphetamine?  It happens (usually not in gated communities) and (with any luck) those children go into protective care.

I’m all for parents teaching children how to be fully functioning adults.  If they feel that teaching their child to drink responsibly is part of that, so be it.  But hosting your kid’s friend’s booze bash is not about that.  It’s about wanting to feel cool.  Children from this gated community are going to the hospital for alcohol poisoning (delivered by parents to avoid detection.)  Do you know how much alcohol needs to be ingested to result in poisoning?!  Banish all thoughts of Liesl having her first sip of champagne at the ball.  You’ve got to power drink serious alcohol (or be a toddler) to be poisoned.

They’d rather they did it at home.  What does that mean?  One parent suggested that he’d rather his kid was drinking at home than at the beach.  Why’s that?  Is drowning a concern?  What about the dozens of teenagers getting drunk in your house?  Are they all sleeping it off in your bonus room?  How do you feel about your cherub getting drunk at their friend’s house?  Is that okay?  I’m guessing not.  I’m guessing you want the party at your house.  You know what would make you even cooler in a 16 year old’s eyes?  Invite tattoo artists to the next bash.

Let’s put aside class discrepancies (people of means don’t usually lose custody of their children for indiscretions) and even issues of physical danger for a moment.  Instead let’s focus on what this behavior actually teaches children.  1) The rules don’t apply to you 2) It’s not breaking the law if you don’t get caught 3) Behaving irresponsibly is not only a natural part of adolescence it’s a healthy part of middle-age.

Kids do stupid things.  It’s their job.  It’s only by going too far that they find their own limits and comfort levels.  The best protection you can offer a child is a strong sense of self.  A teenager who feels he/she has worth is less prone to trying to prove it in questionable ways.  The same could be said for parents.

 
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Posted by on May 8, 2012 in Childhood, Well-Being

 

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Shattered Illusions*

About a year ago, a health care professional offered to glue artificial lashes to my lids.  Glue. Something. To. My. Eyelids.  This offer(?) wasn’t prompted by any medical need.  There’s been no adverse reaction to any treatment or genetic syndrome.  All of my eye hair is present and accounted for.  The woman in scrubs explained that ‘eyelash extension’ was the new big thing.  I replied that false eyelashes were in fact one of the oldest big things.  Ah, but false eyelashes are removed!  The glue she was offering was permanent or until the false hairs drop off (preferably not into something one is cooking.)

When the (head) hair extension phenomenon picked up steam, I found it amusing.  I’ve yet to spot an extension that looks even remotely organic.  I can still picture that mother and daughter having lunch.  They had identical yellow extensions all over their heads.  The shared the same length and shade and visible knots all over the back of their heads.  What kind of psychodrama was playing out that afternoon in which they wouldn’t tell each other that their slips were showing?

The zeal for spray tanning has not faded either.  If you’ve ever been overcome by a sudden mob of midwestern high school seniors on their school trip to Times Square, you might feel a bit like Willy Wonka.  These orange little people are everywhere.  Acrylic nails don’t seem to be going anywhere too soon either.  But if you’ve ever seen them on toes, you’d agree it’s time to ratchet it back a bit.  If people have the time, money and inclination to cover themselves in synthetics, so be it.  There are worse hobbies/vices.  But I would draw the line at gluing things to one’s eye!  What is so striking about all this artifice is how terribly retro it is.  It’s reminiscent of the 1950s; a time that was not all that great for a lot women.

Cone bras and girdles are now push-up bras (and surgery) and girdles with the naughty name; Spanx.  (It’s so much more empowering to have your innards squished when you can wink at the product.)  Hair was set in rollers every night and “done” at the beauty parlor once a week.  Today, hair may or may not be coming from your scalp.  Scalp hair is chemically straightened (because straight hair is fashionable right now) or professionally blown out several times a week (today’s women apparently lack the upper body strength of their ancestors.)  Fashion has a very retro feel as well, with strapless dresses being de rigueur for a decade or so now.  The 1950’s pointy toed pointy heeled shoe has eaten its Wheaties and grown big and tall.  (There’s nothing quite as sad as a woman who can not walk in her own shoes.)

I’m not ready to scream “conspiracy,” but there is something about keeping women in a 1950s mindset that is discomforting.  Do I think eyelash extensions are part of the war on women’s health care?  Not exactly.  Do I think selling young women on the idea of physicality above intellectuality is the backlash of the second wave of feminism?  Probably.  Let me be clear; fashion is fun.  But sometimes it can slide into raison d’etre.  It takes an enormous amount of time (and resources) to emulate Barbie.  When you’re not gluing on hair, you’re lasering it off.  There’s the plumping and the smoothing, the changing of eye-color according to the season.  All this while, finding the “It” bag of the millisecond.  There’s also the unrelenting pursuit of whatever brand is being sold by the celebrity of the moment.

Maybe there wouldn’t be even a whiff of political overtone if men were engaged in the same pursuits.  The majority of the (heterosexual) pairings I’ve witnessed indicate that men are caring less about their appearance as women are caring more.  Perhaps there is only a finite amount of superficiality which can exist on the planet?  Women seem to go to great lengths (no hair extension pun intended) to dress as men seem to look like a 12 year old who just got their wish from Zoltar to “be Big.”  There is certainly a budding relationship between these polarities.  Hopefully it won’t result in more distance between people.

*He thinks I’m lovely but entre nous,
My lashes and nails are stuck on with glue.
Oh, his shattered illusions

Fascinating Aida – Dillie Keane (1983)

 
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Posted by on May 6, 2012 in Style

 

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