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The Total Bent – Review

07 Mar

The Public is a distinct theatre, at times self-consciously so.  Often it is challenging to recall its noble origins amidst the marquee Central Park players, and lobby filled with smug hipsters.  But a physical set back (in this case a massive messy renovation) will do wonders to a persona.  Plastic tenting drapes the facade (and sidewalk) of the building.  Visitors are shuttled through a labyrinth of particleboard and exposed electricals to a makeshift box office.  The Public staff seems to have multiplied threefold and have been trained to move everyone safely and informatively to their respect seats.  Even with all of the helpful friendliness, I braced myself upon entering the theatre space.  Yes, the seats are plush and comfy, but the stage is always awkward and it becomes exhausting to ignore the obstructing columns time and time again.  Yet there it was, designed to be a southern (somewhat shabby) recording studio and it was impossible to imagine a more perfect stage. The set seemed to seep into the audience and into the very fabric of the infrastructure.  Those annoying columns (wrappers in carpet remnants and secured with duct tape) seemed to have been created just for Andrew Lieberman’s design.  The pieces of furniture are random in style and utterly realistic.  Wires, recording devices, and used instruments dot the stage.

All of this would fit into the category of commendable “art installation” if it wasn’t just a hint of what splendor awaits in The Total Bent (Stew-book, lyrics and music with Heidi Rodewald.)  This is the second major theatrical endeavor since Passing Strange (2008) and has elements that may now be seen as Stew trademarks.  As in Passing Strange: the musicians are an integral part of the story and on stage.  The core of the story is the parent/child tensions that result from a successful “coming of age.”  Joe Roy (Vondie Curtis Hall) is a dynamic larger than life father/recording producer.  His son Marty (William Jackson Harper) has been recording since he made the ladies swoon in church at the age of ten.  Their generational divide centers around the “type” of music they each want to record.  His father wants to continue to package spiritual songs for the living rooms of white people.  The son has something a little more contemporary and authentic in mind.  Beyond that issue, was a song that resulted in disaster (through a misinterpreted lyric) and a great recording that never was.  The boy breaks free of his father’s overbearing grip (or does he?) and struggles to find his voice.

The music, not surprisingly, is excellent: a little bit gospel, a little bit rock and roll.  There is a lot of foot tapping and swaying happening in the audience.  It isn’t entirely clear what the time period is.  There are times the costumes suggest the 1970s, yet the vernacular speaks to the present, presumably this is intentional.

Directed by Joanna Settle, the tight ensemble never falters.  The British record producer (David Cale) is a wonderful addition with his energy, awkwardness, and pale angular Britishness.  The church bus driver and janitor (aka the back-up band) played by Eddie R. Brown II and Julian Rozzell, Jr. are incredibly watchable.    The use of space, light (Adam Silverman) and sound (Obadiah Eaves) are spot-on and add a roundness and completeness to the play.  While there is never a dull or “down” moment, and one never tries to spy one’s watch in the dark, the show does need a trim.  Two and a half hours is not extreme, but some of the emotional impact of The Total Bent is diluted with (what are in essence) repeated scenes.  It is a compelling, well crafted and staged play that could be perfect with just a snip or two.  No doubt in such an organic feeling piece, the cuts may hurt a bit.

There is a perfect storm at work right now.  The Public, and all the metaphorical significance of its massive face-lift, and The Total Bent create a magic together.  I’m not sure I’ve experienced theatre at which the lobby informs the experience of the play.  This play would most certainly work in a multitude of venues, but if you can, see it now; at The Public.

 

 

 
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Posted by on March 7, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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Brusha Brusha Brusha!

06 Mar

You cannot walk down the street (or through the mall) without seeing them: toddlers in their stroller with a perma-snack on their tray table.  Goldfish crackers or cheerios in branded plastic containers are never far from their sticky grip.  Contrary to your initial instincts, no, these children are not carbo-loading for a marathon.  They are being trained instead to never feel hunger or eat a balanced meal.  You’ve also probably seen some of these tykes with a sippy cup (or bottle) of juice, or for the “health conscious” and those of stranger consumer habits; bottled water.

You may have also been in close enough proximity to hear these children being asked instead of told what to do: “Can you hold my hand while we cross the street?”  “Do you want to put on your jacket now?”

For those of us who are not necessarily health care providers, we only have seen this behavior as ridiculous.  We assumed that the children would grow up to have eating disorders and become absolutely monsters in adolescence (“Can you not bring that gang member into your bedroom at 2:00 a.m., honey?”  “Do you want to go take your S.A.T.s this year?”)  What we (okay, what I) did not consider is the immediate health implications of this style of parenting.  More preschoolers, at every income level, are developing 6-10 cavities.  In their baby teeth!  This painful development is not the result of genetics or disease, but is (according to dentists) the result of perpetually feeding small children and not enforcing teeth brushing.  According to Dr. Jed Best, some parents don’t want to traumatize their tykes with teeth brushing.  Let us forget for a moment the actual trauma of tooth decay/infection, dental work and long-term consequence of dental infection, and instead focus on the trauma of tooth-brushing.

We’ve probably all seen the Sponge Bob/Dora/Cinderella toothbrushes and toothpastes in the pharmacy.  They’re right next to the strawberry/bubble gum flavored toothpaste.  No doubt the higher end shops have all this next to the animated videos and books extolling the rapture of dental hygiene.  (To be fair, I’m already feeling a bit traumatized by all of this.)  It’s probably safe to assume that some of these cleverly marketed superfluous items are being implemented in many homes.  I think we can all agree that the majority of carers are not donning Freddy Krueger masks and approaching their tyke with a power drill (a la Marathon Man.)  The trauma is that the child might prefer to not have their teeth brushed.  That’s right.  The parent sees telling the child what to do as traumatizing.  Most children squirm and resist when having their teeth brushed.  It’s an odd sensation and involves a bit of a vice grip.  A clever child has learned that the slightest resistance and/or vocalization will scare off the adult.   (One has to assume that the same cause and effect does not work for face washing, because a dirty face would result in other people seeing the dirt and make assumptions about the parent.)  It stands to reason that these same parents would never not apply direct pressure to their bleeding child, or cease pounding the child’s back to dislodge a piece of food, if the child objected.  But after a long day of “discussing” every option and choice, after 12 hours of having a toddler (the very definition of an emotional terrorist) guide decisions for him/her, the parent, the entire family and every other person in the restaurant/store/playground/bookstore; a person gets tired.

After my initial horror in this dental discovery (some of these little ones have to be given general anesthesia to treat their massive decay!) I began to see just a flicker of light.  Perhaps this development will start to spur a movement.  Nobody wants their child in pain.  Enormous lengths are taken to ensure children never know discomfort or disappointment.  But at what cost?  Sometimes it’s difficult to remember that being the adult in the relationship means you actually do know what’s best for the child.  Letting a toddler choose which story to have at bedtime is okay.  Letting them dictate their nutrition and health care is not.

 
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Posted by on March 6, 2012 in Childhood

 

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You Could Be Another Lincoln*

04 Mar

Recently I heard of a woman who made a lovely batch of lemonade out of a whole bunch of lemons.  She had spent most of her working life in finance management.  Through pluck and competence she moved up the ranks nicely.  Then she was laid-off at the same time her son was diagnosed with behavioral issues.  Like most of us, her stress behaviors began to kick into high gear.  For her this meant organizing everything within her sight.  She had always found organizing to be soothing and imbued the results with subtle sacred qualities.  Growing up in a chaotic household and moving often as a child, she found order comforting.  So she took the doors off her son’s closet, replaced all his drawers with clear boxes and organized and labeled him into a more focused kid.  Her child’s teacher noticed the difference in his behavior, and a conversation resulted in other children’s rooms being organized by the ex-financial manager.  Packing up her label maker and color coded files one day, she joked to her husband; “This is like a job.”

I think we all know where the story goes from here.  But wait, there is one tiny hitch.  This highly educated, super competent woman decided she needed credentials.  She went off to the Organizing Institute (or something as ridiculous sounding) and got herself a certificate.  I can picture the graduation ceremony: a row of color coordinated graduates holding their hand over the heart and pledging to banish randomness and clutter.  Now that she’s certified does that mean she enjoys client/practitioner privilege?  If she discovers a bloodied shirt and knife in an over-stuffed dresser drawer is she obligated to keep that information to herself?  Why did this seemingly talented, smart, sophisticated woman feel the need to trot off to the wizard to get a doctorate in thinkology?

Could it be that we are now living in the age of expertise?  You’ve heard of the the jazz age, the cold war age, the disco age?  The age of expertise isn’t nearly that interesting or fashion specific.  The expertise age may very well be the product of the perfect storm of populace insecurity and a global speaker’s corner.  Whether people’s insecurities are innate, organic or the result of marketing susceptibility, the results are the same.  Grown people walking around feeling shaky and out of step.  They probably are perfectly happy (or happy enough) but are bombarded with messages about tablescapes, second homes in Tuscany, French parenting, Tiger’s mothering.  Having not mastered the skill of tuning out, sooner or later these various messages boil down to one thing; “other people know more than I do.”  Now, that is actually true.  But the people who know more than most of us are not the ones telling us how to carve the perfect jack-o-lantern.

People achieving expert status without robust credentials is nothing new.  Certainly we can think of at least one radio talk show “doctor” raking in the benefits.  But the platforms for such expertise have expanded beyond computation.  So we find ourselves with a huge audience for “experts” in fields which often have no history of formal certification.  Everything, and I do mean everything, has become an area of expertise.  In just one week I have heard of a woman whose specialty is herding cats, another who designs walls (she’s not a muralist or even a house painter, she tells you where to hang your artwork.)  And the infant/child fetish is still skyrocketing: getting your baby to sleep through the night? 1-800-i’ll take your money is on the way!  not sure how to toilet train? HaveM&MsWillTravel.com is at the ready.  I think we can all agree that there are iPhone app experts being created everyday.

Is all of this malarkey a sign of the end of time?  Hardly.  Would anyone confuse another “it happened to me so it must be universal” book with actual sociology?  Doubtful.  If there is any harm it is merely that throwing around terms like “expert” and inculcating people as such is not helping anyone or anything.  We’d be a lot further ahead to feel confident in our own abilities (to organize our sock draw, or teach our child to use the potty.)  Secure confident people make better decisions, for themselves, their families and even at the polls.

*If I Only Had A Brain – Yip Harburg, Wizard of Oz (1939)

 
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Posted by on March 4, 2012 in Cultural Critique, Media/Marketing

 

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Careful The Things You Do*

01 Mar

Hauling nutritionally balanced snacks to Little Leaguers (who engage in actual exercise for about 10 minutes.)  Creating elaborately themed birthday parties for children who would be happy with a whoopee cushion and a pizza.  Dressing little girls as miniature Mae Wests.  What do these, and many more slightly wacky things, have in common?

When asked, the majority of adults will explain (variations of the above) behavior with the following: “There’s such pressure.”  Such pressure.  From their child?  Visions of a pigtailed girl a la The Bad Seed dance in my head.  There she is in the middle of GapKids/Gymboree/Children’s Place, her $200 doll held aloft prepared to swing; “Buy me the fur shrug or the latte gets it.”  I don’t think so.  If so, someone call Willy Wonka and have him rustle up some oompa loompas.  I think what these parents in fact mean is that there is perceived peer pressure.  That’s right; peer pressure.  That plausible excuse for the pack of cigarettes your parents found in their car, the explanation for shoplifting that 45 (a small disc when placed on a turntable emits prerecorded sound,) and a plausible excuse for kissing that boy in the basement.  But peer pressure in adults?  How does that work?  How does one even keep a straight face?  I suspect that it is not peer pressure so much as it is herd mentality.  Semantics perhaps, but defined as “group think” it makes just a bit more sense.

Very few of us, no matter how many times we’ve done it, feel like professional parents.  Every child, every developmental stage, in fact every day presents new challenges.  Yes, there are some whose very nature is laid back.  They feel confident that their child is well fed, healthy, happy, and curious.  They don’t grasp at enrichment programs as if they were life preservers or buy every latest geegaw and gizmo.  Their confidence might be innate or may be a reflection of their diverse portfolio.  Perhaps all their identity eggs are not in the parenthood basket.  They may have a paid job or not.  They may be married or not.  The diversification is more internal than that.

But these are not the parents hiring aerialists and face painters for a bris.  They are not the ones baking for the school/church/scouts/karate class/soccer club every week.  The parents staying up to create bespoke goody bags for their 6 year old’s birthday party are hearing different voices in their head.  They want desperately to get it right and like the creature in the strange land (that all parents really are) they take every cue and piece of advice to heart.  A cycle is created of external reinforcement.  Where the trouble may lie (if you consider hovering parenting and spoiled children, trouble) is a sense of unease and disquietness.  Look around.  How much of the media noise is about “stressed moms” “mommy wars” or far worse “the hidden drinking life of moms.”  How long do you think it will be before we have a psychological condition known as “stressed mother?”

Feeling exhausted and strained is nothing new.  Mother’s little helper, anyone?  But the angst which comes from losing one’s internal compass is.  What would happen if we tried something new, yet very old for 30 days?  For 30 days, let’s not visit any parenting websites, chat rooms or magazines.  Let’s only talk to our friends and acquaintances about what’s going on in our own lives, not our child’s.  Let’s plan weekly dates with our partners (and hire babysitters.)  If something comes up in those 30 days which really warrants guidance, call a parent, or aunt, or uncle or grandparent.  Look to the elders, the survivors if you will, for guidance, reinforcement and comfort.  For 30 days, do not look to the others floundering in the sea of parenthood for help.

Let me know how it goes.

*Children Will Listen – Into The Woods, Stephen Sondheim (1986)

 
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Posted by on March 1, 2012 in Childhood

 

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How Lovely To Be A Woman*

28 Feb

If you have been in the vicinity of a woman under 27 in recent years, you have undoubtedly found yourself asking “is she asking me that or telling me that?”  Putting a question mark at the end of every sentence began as a teenage affectation and has migrated into the adult world.  If you have spent anytime in the workplace?  You have heard the inflection?  Time and time again?  Like the co-worker of a Tourette’s sufferer, you politely pretend it’s not happening (and later slam your head against your office wall.)  I would probably have far fewer dents in my head if it weren’t for the fact that I have never, ever met a young man who engages in oratory self-doubt.  I’m willing to acquiesce that the question mark had the same genesis as the nervous tic of “like” or dotting “i”s with smiley faces.  They are all just proof of the herd mentality of finding one’s adolescent individuality.  But surely college and then the workplace are not smiley face life stages.  (Oh my, there’s probably software for that now.  It’s only a matter of time when doctoral thesis will be turned in with little smiley faces doting the “i”s.  Ph.D candidates will march across the podium to receive their diploma emblazoned with the 7th grade spelling they created of their name – “Bahrbra” “Stacye” “Sharyn”)

The ubiquitous question mark is disturbing for its implication of uncertainty.  One need only hear Molly Wei testifying in the Rutgers University invasion of privacy case for proof.  This serious, well-groomed and coached witness, ends every sentence with a question mark.  Hopefully the jurors all have teenage girls at home.  There is nothing new about women (of any age) altering their voice for effect.  We can all think of at least a dozen performers or celebrities who have adopted breathy/baby voices.  Performers do that.  It’s what’s called performing.  But when a sales associate? or account manager? ends every sentence with a question mark?  It’s about something else.

A delayed adolescence and all the insecurities that accompany it are on full (somewhat cringe inducing) display.  Walk through a large office and note the identical manicures, outfits, handbags, sunglasses, tech toys.  It’s like walking through a high school.  There was a time when being old enough to work meant being old enough to have an identity.  While I admit (very begrudgingly) that television shows are not exactly the same as social anthropology, it is interesting to note the WJM newsroom.  Even if you were from Mars, you would never confuse Mary with a visiting Rhoda or Phyllis.  They all had a distinct style and sound.  (Sue Ann Nivens was her own best creation, but was a bit older than the other women.)  Was there ever a better voice manipulator than Mary?  Whether she was “Rob”ing or “Mr.Grant”ing you would never confuse her with anyone else.  Isn’t that the point?

Whether it’s habit, insecurity, or immaturity, it’s time to stop.  See all those strings/rubber bracelets on your wrist?  Snap one every time you hear your voice go up.  I promise you, in just a matter or weeks you will lose the tic and before you know it; find you voice.

“How lovely to be so grown-up and free!  Life’s lovely when you’re a woman like me!” – Kim Macafee (age 15) Bye Bye Birdie – Lee Adams, 1960

 

 
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Posted by on February 28, 2012 in Cultural Critique

 

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