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Heroes – Review

14 Aug

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Inmates make for the most interesting bedfellows and nowhere more so than in Tom Stoppard’s Heroes. This (2005) translation of Gérald Sibleyras’ play is a story of French veterans who create intriguing (and in one case; unnatural) alliances. At first glance these men have only two things in common; they are veterans and they live in a veterans’ home. But as the (quite funny) play unfolds we discover their shared threads and the ties that bind.

The men; Gustave (Jonathan Epstein,) Phillipe (Malcom Ingram,) and Henri (Robert Lohbauer) are fully formed and complex characters whose rapid exchange of one-liners and bon mots are entirely believable. A three person play devoid of bells and whistles hinges upon the believability and artistry of the players. Deftly directed by Kevin G. Coleman these actors inhabit their roles so completely an distinctly as to set a production standard.

Gustave, Henri and Phillipe are battle scarred, yet they are not bound by their wounds. Henri, who has inexplicably chosen to live in the rest home for twenty five years, is actually the most physically adventurous of the three. Phillipe, who spends as much time unconscious (due to skull shrapnel) as he does conscious, wants desperately to stay alive. And Gustave, dear aristocratic, rigid, scathing Gustave is besotted by a bronze dog.

These men would never have socialized on the outside. (Their carefully executed variations of a British accentt indicate their class distinctions.) Yet like the soldiers they once were, they are together in the trenches with a common enemy; Sister Madelene. It is this alliance and their allegiance to each other (and the dog) that make theirs a story worth telling. It is the honesty of their connection that is compelling. Which is why, without the spot on performances of these three actors the play could slide into Grumpy Old Men (+1) sentimentality.

The final moment of this production is proof of that temptation. The actors are directed to climb atop chairs and emulate flight. It was an inconsistent choice for such an honest production.

Heroes is playing at Shakespeare & Company (Lenox, MA) until September 1st.

 
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Posted by on August 14, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Let The Games Begin

12 Aug
photo by Lefteris Pitarakis

photo by Lefteris Pitarakis

When people join forces & lift up their voices attention is often paid. The volume of the outcry has a direct correlation to the media coverage, and that is how it should be. For the past few weeks people have begun to rise up in response to Russia’s propaganda law (enacted in June 2013.) This law is meant to curb public talk of homosexuality. The fact that Russia has a propaganda law is not only not surprising, it almost seems intuitive; for those of us of a certain Boris and Natasha age. The other 50% of the population is a bit gob smacked, and why not? The last few years have been a freight train of gay rights momentum. We are living through one of the most radical civil and human rights transitions this country has ever had. It’s little wonder that we expect Russia to get on board.

The timing of all this is a delicious; direct to film, perfect storm of brouhaha. What exactly were the conversations Mr. Putin had with his advisors? “How do we put our Olympic hosting on the map? You know, Mr. Putin, the Queen parachuted into the London Olympic stadium. What can you do?” It’s a very odd choice to make for a country that repealed it’s law against “gay” sex in 1993 (the U.S. did not abolished sodomy laws until 2003.) It’s a bizarre law in its nature and its timing; but a great windfall for a movement. Calling for a boycott of an international event is a great way to make some noise. Actually boycotting the event is a horse of a different color.

Politics and/or human rights records are not a factor in participating in the Olympics. It is not an event designed to bring like-minded countries together, but to bridge those gaps through shared interests. Where the Olympics are hosted seems to create an unavoidable focus on the misdeeds of a country. The United States participated in the 1936 Berlin Olympics(!) and boycotted the 1980 Moscow (summer) Olympics. But the host country is such a minor concern to the athletes and all participants. Thousands of people (of all backgrounds and orientations) have worked their entire lives for these games. A boycott will mean that they, and the necessary attention to this issue, will not appear at the games and on televisions across the world.

Calling for a boycott may put sufficient pressure on Mr. Putin to repeal his shiny new anti-gay propaganda law. If not, let the noise reach a fevered frenzied pitch! Encourage athletes to visibly show their solidarity. Show up to the games in droves and wave the rainbow flag, the whole world will be watching. Plan colorful protests in cities across the land to coincide with the opening ceremonies; attention will be paid. Making a collective noise is the most powerful of civic endeavors. We can capture the eyes and ears of the world without breaking the hearts of the athletes.

 
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Posted by on August 12, 2013 in Cultural Critique

 

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Modern Family

08 Aug

Music

“De Blasio Takes His Modern Family On The Campaign Trail” blares the headline. My heart skipped as I searched for the photo (or at least mention) of Rosie the Robot. After a sip of coffee I came to my senses and instead sought mention of adult children living at home, or surrogate, biological and adoptive parents living as one big happy family. Finding none of these, I briefly considered that perhaps the newspaper was sensationalizing a large family filled with triplets, quadruplets or more! Blurry eyed but caffeine fueled, I found none of these.

It would seem that the newspaper of record considers a family of more than one race/ethnicity to be “modern”. In 2013. Mr. De Blasio appears to be of European descent (with a name that backs up that theory) and his wife appears to be African-American. His son, featured in a recent ad, sports (brace yourself) an old school, pick in the back pocket, Afro. How terribly terribly modern! In 1963.

This is a New York City political season (and race) filled with more marital horror stories than ever. On a local level we’ve transcended Gary Hart and Bill Clinton, in the lying, adultery and arrogance. And there are the wives, one of them a protege (in apparently every sense of the word) of Mrs. Clinton. They stand by their husbands (at least while the cameras are rolling) and sport huge bubbles of balance sheets (of what’s most important to them,) over their heads.

Perhaps this is what makes the De Blasio family so modern? Look a married couple in which the wife hasn’t endured public humiliation! Perhaps De Blasio’s family is modern compared to his strongest competitor; Christine Quinn? Ms. Quinn’s wife is a lawyer (snore.) They were married by a judge in the most traditional of ceremonies (yawn.)

This headline is not unfortunately just the result of some “old white guy” on the editor’s desk. Other major and generally liberal, media have remarked on De Blasio’s son’s hairstyle. A more optimistic person would think these comments stem from enjoying the throwback of a fluffy symmetrical Afro. It would be nice if newsreaders were flashing back to The Mod Squad and the uber coolness of Link. But even if that was the case, why don’t we look at women with their ubiquitous stick straight blown-out hair and flashback to Julie? And why don’t shaggy haired Caucasian young men remind us of Pete? It is much more likely that these newsreaders view the Afro as some sort of statement.

This is New York City not Sweden (which by the way is not entirely made up of pale blondes.) Every color, size, shape, religion and orientation resides here. For decades this city has, if not welcomed, than sheltered, people and families who did not fit their hometown mold. This is one of the places racially mixed couples flocked to in the early days (when it was still illegal in some places.) So how in the world could there be anything modern about an interracial couple in NYC in 2013?

 
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Posted by on August 8, 2013 in Cultural Critique

 

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The Mulching Of Minors

06 Aug

AnneGeddes_Wallpaper1280_168

A father shared this observation of a friend’s 9-year-old in a restaurant; “She sat there for two, no three hours! In her seat, eating and being quiet!” This observation was jarring not for its narrative but for its delivery. His face and tone suggested he had seen a blue moon during a total eclipse of the sun. It’s always a wee bit awkward to be on the receiving end of something you don’t understand. It’s difficult, when you can’t relate or perhaps even understand the message to know how to respond. If you are graceful and socially adept you might smile and lightly yet rapidly change the subject. If you are somewhat more like, well like me, you might just let something wildly inappropriate fly from your mouth. But enough about me.

If you’ve never seen modern parenting in play, you know, like if you lived in a retirement community or a convent, you could still learn a thing or two by listening. Parents love talking about their children, just like gardeners love talking about their flowers. Even when they’re not talking about their own, or posting 35 photos of “dropping Madison off at camp” on Facebook, they’re sharing their parenting perspective. Take the stunned observation of the (above) father. If his own children sat nicely through a meal he might not have noticed the 9-year-old. If he felt it was valuable to teach a child how to be an enjoyable dining companion, he would simply assume that all children (who are old enough to be in a restaurant) know how to behave.

The point of parenting is to grow decent and strong adults. There are many diverse roads to that end. The values, perspectives and traditions of the parent should guide the journey. Being indoctrinated with parents’ political, social, religious, and ethical views is what gives a child roots. Structure, limits, expectations, and critical feedback are what makes a child blossom into an adult.

Typically a child of 5-years-old can sit still and understand the difference between public and private behavior. (That’s why formal education begins at age 5.) It’s a crucial part of a child’s socialization to expose them to the larger world. Keeping in mind the age appropriateness of the activity of course (bringing an 8-year-old to the ring cycle is endangering the welfare of a child.) The point of taking a school-age child to a restaurant (beside feeding them) is to expose them, in a controlled way, to the adult world. Teaching a child to; speak clearly to a waiter/waitress while looking him/her in the eye, ask for items to be passed, thank servers and observe adult conversation and financial transactions is the point of dining out with children. The child, learning and feeling confident about the adult world grows strong.

Learning that the adult world is something to aspire to, is how we fertilize children. Creating a world that is completely child-centric is not only a frightening burden of power but also an utter disincentive for growth. Children need to be heard and given the space to express themselves. But they need to do this in the protective environment that comes from stronger older people who know a thing or two about making a garden grow.

 
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Posted by on August 6, 2013 in Childhood

 

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If You Can Make It There

04 Aug

gottadance

Dozens of wonderful movies have been made about making it in New York City. Heroes and heroines flock to the big city seeking understanding and/or excitement. Often they hail from small towns with nothing more than a suitcase and a dream. They emerge from buses and trains into a bustling mysterious brightly lit metropolis. They pound the pavement for a room and a job, knocking on countless slamming doors (a la Gene Kelly; Gotta Dance! Gotta Dance!) They find a room, perhaps even an efficiency or worldly roommate. They get a job and make it all work. They won’t quit ’til they’re a star!

Movies about the big adventure that is NYC aren’t really made anymore. NYC appears quite frequently in film but less as a place to conquer, and more as a posh playground. They still come from small towns and less glittery cities. But the heroes and heroines of today are more likely to find shelter in a 2,000 square foot loft than a room in a boarding house. Young women don’t share an “interview dress” but news of sample sales. And it’s been a few decades since a call girl found it entertaining to window shop at Tiffany. The scrappiness is gone. The roughing it and hard knock pursuit of a brand new start of it is a thing of the past; and for good reason.

You’d be hard pressed to find a legitimate boarding house in NYC. There are efficiency apartments still holding on, but they’re most decidedly not for out-of-towners. If there are buildings which house nothing but theatrical agents, even Gene Kelly wouldn’t be allowed past security. It’s a different city than it was 80, 70, or even 20 years ago. It is a town less about cab drivers answering back in language far from pure, than it is about gentility. Searching for grittiness can become a scavenger hunt. There is a gloss to the city that doesn’t sleep. Our heroines of yesteryear would not know what to make of bicycle paths, pedestrian malls, man-made beaches and midtown pop-up swimming pools (that are nothing more than oversized dumpsters). For the out-of-towner arriving to make their fame and fortune, these sights might be comforting and not the least surprising. Their perceptions of NYC, gleaned from television & film will be confirmed; it is a luxury cruise ship! The food is copious, the entertainment splashy and every need is easily fulfilled.

Of course there is still a grittiness to be found in the city, and there are still wonderfully diverse foods and entertainment. But it gets harder and harder to live an urban life beyond the homogenization. With each passing year the city becomes more a place for tourists and less for residents. People come from all over the world to see the prescribed sights. The intensity of the city and its lights might be exotic but the ads, retail and amenities are very familiar. A person could come to NYC; complete their tourist attraction checklist while eating, drinking and sleeping in very familiar places. But what of that young man or woman arriving with three bucks, two bags, one me? How do they find their way in a town priced at tourist levels, no longer as welcoming to the young yearning to be free? What does it mean to a city, and a world capital to no longer be the incubator of extraordinary young talent? The world will always welcome bankers and engineers, but what of artists?

NYC will never (willingly) go back to its hardscrabble ways. The tourism dollars are simply too good to turn down. But it is possible to recapture the opportunities and promise of the big city. Dotted throughout the island are examples of how. There is (at least) one subsidized residence for actors. There are small-business incubators supported by the city. There is even health insurance for freelancers. Gathering these meager resources and augmenting them to support artists and innovators would be a great legacy for a mayor. City sponsored art projects, theatres, and music would open the door for those Ruby Keelers and Gene Kellys and who knows whom else. The only way to ensure true diversity is to actively support success. It’s really up to you New York, New York.

 
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Posted by on August 4, 2013 in Cultural Critique

 

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