more on the JE review

Back to that Freeman review... she thinks that I somehow de-sympathized the character of Antoinette/Bertha...

Is she really insane or is her insanity a result of being used as a pawn and her resulting loveless marriage? The production does not portray Antoinette sympathetically. She draws blood after biting her brother's neck, sets fire to Rochester's bed curtains, and tears Jane's wedding veil. The portrayal of Antoinette, a character who should be pitied, seems at odds with the portrayal of Jane, another strong woman, who has been allowed her independence, and therefore will avoid the fate of Antoinette.

(I changed the name from Bertha to Antoinette - as is also done in "Wide Sargasso Sea" because the name Bertha seems so clunky for such an exotic character.)

In the book it is explained that Antoinette/Bertha is insane because it runs in her family. Her mother is insane too. And so I present her as insane due to a congenital medical condition - not because her loveless marriage made her insane.

This is another of those "English-department notions" as Michael Feingold calls it - that medical insanity never just happens, people are driven insane due to tragedy or loveless marriages or other common life events. In fact, it seems like ever since Ophelia, women regularly go insane in response to tragedy. If it happened as frequently in real life as it did in literature, half the women in the world would be barking mad.

But of course Antoinette/Bertha should be pitied - anybody who is insane should be, and in the book and my play Jane later tells Rochester he shouldn't hate her for being insane. Antoinette is so insane she doesn't understand why she has to stay with Rochester, and can't go back to Jamaica where she was running around with lots of men, as she did during the early days of her marriage to Rochester before she went completely crazy. She must be confined for her own good and the good of everybody around her, but she doesn't understand this. So she's frustrated, and everybody around her is frustrated.

Here is the first appearance of Antoinette/Bertha in my play:

ANTOINETTE MASON-ROCHESTER enters. She is dressed in a lovely but disheveled gown and carries a fan.)

RICHARD MASON
Antoinette. It is I, Richard, come to see you.

ANTOINETTE
I curse you both! You took me away from my beautiful lovers!

(Antoinette hits Mason with her fan and tries to bites his hand. Rochester tries to free Mason and she hits Rochester, then exits.)

We ended up staging it with Antoinette biting Mason's neck, and with Rochester wrestling her back behind a curtain, but at least she gets to talk. She later appears in a scene which I invented in order to give Antoinette one more chance to tell her side of the story:

(There is a scream and then Antoinette's laugh. Mrs. Fairfax exits, heading upstairs. The laughter is heard again. Rochester covers his ears against the sound.)

ROCHESTER
I should have sent her to Bedlam and let her rot there! You foul demon, you
will be the death of me! Jane! Don't think you have escaped me Jane!

(Mrs. Fairfax enters.)

MRS. FAIRFAX
She murdered Grace Poole! The whole room is on fire!

(Antoinette enters, her hands bloody and carrying a lit torch in one hand and Jane's discarded wedding veil in the other. She screams at Mrs. Fairfax.)

ANTOINETTE
You are trying to steal my husband!

MRS. FAIRFAX
I am doing nothing of the sort!

ROCHESTER
Give me the torch, Antoinette.

ANTOINETTE
You made my life a hell. And so let us have an inferno!
(She attempts to torch the room.)

ROCHESTER
(to Mrs. Fairfax)
Make yourself useful, go fetch some help!

(Mrs. Fairfax exits. Rochester addresses Antoinette again.)
Give me the torch!

ANTOINETTE
Send me back to my home! My lovers are waiting for me! All my beautiful
lovers, not like you, you ugly English troll!

(She laughs. Rochester tries to grab the torch and she exits, he follows. Blackout.)

The production I saw of Polly Teale's adaptation presented Antoinette/Bertha supremely sympathetically. In the scene where Rochester presents her to everyone, she gently rests her head on his shoulder. Which may satisfy Teale's requirement that Antoinette/Bertha be Jane's alter-ego, but it has NOTHING to do with the book, and it makes Rochester look like a bad bad man - first driving this poor woman insane with his English imperialism and sexual repression, and then locking her into a room (which Teale equates with the Red Room of Jane's childhood trauma) when all she wants is to be loved and to express her sexuality. This throws the entire meaning of "Jane Eyre" out of whack. But theatre critics don't care.

Here is how Bertha is described in the novel:

In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.

"Good-morrow, Mrs. Poole!" said Mr. Rochester. "How are you? and how is your charge to-day?"

"We're tolerable, sir, I thank you," replied Grace, lifting the boiling mess carefully on to the hob: "rather snappish, but not 'rageous."

A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favourable report: the clothed hyena rose up, and stood tall on its hind-feet.

"Ah! sir, she sees you!" exclaimed Grace: "you'd better not stay."

"Only a few moments, Grace: you must allow me a few moments."

"Take care then, sir! - for God's sake, take care!"

The maniac bellowed: she parted her shaggy locks from her visage, and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognised well that purple face, - those bloated features. Mrs. Poole advanced.

"Keep out of the way," said Mr. Rochester, thrusting her aside: "she has no knife now, I suppose, and I'm on my guard."

"One never knows what she has, sir: she is so cunning: it is not in mortal discretion to fathom her craft."

"We had better leave her," whispered Mason.

"Go to the devil!" was his brother-in-law's recommendation.

"'Ware!" cried Grace. The three gentlemen retreated simultaneously. Mr. Rochester flung me behind him: the lunatic sprang and grappled his throat viciously, and laid her teeth to his cheek: they struggled. She was a big woman, in stature almost equalling her husband, and corpulent besides: she showed virile force in the contest - more than once she almost throttled him, athletic as he was. He could have settled her with a well-planted blow; but he would not strike: he would only wrestle. At last he mastered her arms; Grace Poole gave him a cord, and he pinioned them behind her: with more rope, which was at hand, he bound her to a chair. The operation was performed amidst the fiercest yells and the most convulsive plunges.

Earlier in the book when Mason secretly visits Bertha, she attacks him:

"She bit me," he murmured. "She worried me like a tigress, when Rochester got the knife from her."

"You should not have yielded: you should have grappled with her at once," said Mr. Rochester.

"But under such circumstances, what could one do?" returned Mason. "Oh, it was frightful!" he added, shuddering. "And I did not expect it: she looked so quiet at first."

"I warned you," was his friend's answer; "I said - be on your guard when you go near her. Besides, you might have waited till to-morrow, and had me with you: it was mere folly to attempt the interview to-night, and alone."

"I thought I could have done some good."

"You thought! you thought! Yes, it makes me impatient to hear you: but, however, you have suffered, and are likely to suffer enough for not taking my advice; so I'll say no more. Carter - hurry! - hurry! The sun will soon rise, and I must have him off."

"Directly, sir; the shoulder is just bandaged. I must look to this other wound in the arm: she has had her teeth here too, I think."

"She sucked the blood: she said she'd drain my heart," said Mason.

It's clear to ANYBODY WHO HAS READ THE BOOK that my portrayal of Bertha is far more sympathetic than the original. The book describes her as an animal or even a vampire. My version at least gives her a chance to express her confusion and frustration with some human dignity.

Which brings me to the last and greatest reason why this review is a travesty....

which I will address soon...

Something well worth pondering...

From Dating Amy

Myth: Really handsome men are bad news for women.
Debunk!
"You don't want to date someone prettier than you are," is just the kind of snippy comment you don't generally hear from superhandsome men. It's not the chiseled pecs, perfect nose or soulful eyes, it's that pretty boys tend to be nicer to women than other boys. And why not? They've been nothing but accepted by women since they were old enough to wonder if they really got the lead in the school play because of their acting ability. Beautiful men are less critical of women's looks than unattractive men because they don't need a gorgeous woman to validate them to, well, anyone. Can you picture Johnny Depp playing Howard Stern's "Hot or Not?" Me neither. Matinee-idol types can and do date average-looking women like yours truly and they base relationships on having things in common rather than what their friends think. Good-looking men are also naturally more empathetic to female fears like age and weight gain, especially if their career is tied up with their looks. Remember, underwear models with floppy hair named Brandon deserve love too.

Awesome

California Affirms Right to Gay Marriage

Only 48 more states to go.

Just when Loving vs. Virginia was in the news recently.

More on the Jane Eyre reviews

I won't mention the other two reviewers of JANE EYRE by name, although I have a beef with each, because I don't want them Googling themselves and finding my criticisms.

But I WILL mention Amy Freeman because she should not be a reviewer, and I hope she won't review anything by me in the future.

Here is why:

Greg Oliver Bodine falters a bit initially by seeming to inject a bit of postmodern insincerity and sarcasm into his early flirtations with Jane. Bodine strengthens in the end, when his character has lost everything and is in the depths of despair.

Jane Eyre questions the role of women in society. Jane refuses to be a kept woman, and does not return to Rochester until she has secured financial independence. The woman in the attic, named Antoinette in the stage version, represents the domination of men in the nineteenth century. Is she really insane or is her insanity a result of being used as a pawn and her resulting loveless marriage? The production does not portray Antoinette sympathetically. She draws blood after biting her brother's neck, sets fire to Rochester's bed curtains, and tears Jane's wedding veil. The portrayal of Antoinette, a character who should be pitied, seems at odds with the portrayal of Jane, another strong woman, who has been allowed her independence, and therefore will avoid the fate of Antoinette.

It is best for fans of Bronte's novel to stick to the book, as even the best of actors cannot replace the beauty that is to be found in there. McClernan makes a valiant effort in transplanting the sprawling work to the confines of the stage, but in the end, as our high school teachers always said, it's best just to read the book.

Firstly - there was nothing "post-modern" about Bodine's performance. But unlike many other adaptations of the novel, his Rochester wasn't constantly scowling, bellowing and brooding. In other words, he was closer to the Rochester of the book.

Second - "The woman in the attic... represents the domination of men in the nineteenth century."

This is the clearest demonstration that Freeman's understanding of "Jane Eyre" is based exclusively on adaptations. Charlotte Bronte never intended for the mad wife in the attic to represent male dominance and neither did I. But recent adaptations of the novel, notably the Polly Teale version, do. As Michael Feingold said in his review of a 2000 production of Teale's adaptation:

Meaning to view the myth through a modern feminist prism, Teale exploits a predictable strategy: The mad wife locked up in Mr. Rochester's attic is the heroine's Doppelgänger (or more precisely Doppelgängerin), beginning as the naughty second self for whose misbehavior her aunt punishes her in childhood. Extending this English-department notion over three hours of theater produces exactly the diminishing returns you'd expect— especially since, in accordance with the official feminist rules for approaching nonfeminist women's literature, the principal male figure has to be utterly deromanticized.

Although I disgreed with much of Feingold's review (he doesn't like the original novel much) he's onto something here. The implication of this male dominance theory is that Rochester is a bad guy.

The idea that the wife in the attic represents male domination is so prevalent that Freeman doesn't even think twice before proclaiming it as a settled matter of fact. But Rochester, in the novel, is not a force of represssion, but is rather the supreme object of desire. Any adaptation that denies or downplays this fact diminishes the power of the story.

More thoughts on this travesty of a review soon...

Reviewing the reviewers...

So I'm going to write a long response to the reviews for my recent adaptation of JANE EYRE, and I've been going over the three we received.

I have noticed in the past that off-off Broadway reviewers are careless about getting the facts straight. I fired off an email to one reviewer of my TAM LIN because he literally got ten points of fact wrong. And the JANE reviewers were almost as bad. Here is example one:

We meet Edward Rochester (Greg Oliver Bodine), a well to do bachelor calling out the name "Jane" without receiving a response.

WRONG. He DOES receive a response. The reviewer starts off by bitching about our technical issues - she came to the very first performance - but that was not a technical problem. When Rochester calls Jane's name, she responds by calling "Where are you." Everybody in the theatre heard it BUT this reviewer.

The same reviewer claimed that nobody during that period wore bangs, as our Jane did. Wrong again.

But reviewers, at least off-off Broadway reviewers, don't give a damn about facts. Clearly they are frustrated fiction authors.

One of the crew had her eye on this reviewer and said she came in to the show looking half awake right from the beginning. Clearly she didn't take her job too seriously.

I will say that the number one problem of reviewers of this particular play is that none of them, whatever else they may claim, has read, or remembered the original novel "Jane Eyre." They don't compare adaptations of "Jane Eyre" to the original work, they compare them to other adaptations. This is especially irritating because in my opinion, so many adaptors just get it wrong.

I saw Polly Teale's stage adaptation, and it was so wrong in so many ways, but primarily because Teale basically changes the meaning of the story by turning Bertha Mason, the crazy wife, into Jane's alter ego. But it's all psycho-drama pseudo-Freudian and the pretentious critics think that's so kewl and cutting edge. Never mind that it has nothing to do with Bronte's vision.

Here's critic and Bronte biographer Lucasta Miller:

When the madwoman is discovered and the wedding between Jane and Rochester broken off, the implication of the Shared Experience production (of Teale's adaptation) is that Jane runs away because she cannot face her own passions. We are left feeling that she should have followed her instinct and united herself with Rochester anyway - that it was only fear and repression that stopped her from becoming his lover. However, this suggests a rather anachronistic view of sex outside marriage. In the original text, Jane's escape from Thornfield is presented not just as tragic self-denial but as an act of empowering self-assertion.

And I won't even get into Teale's staging concepts, like having the actor playing Rochester ride piggyback on the actor playing his horse, while an actor playing Pilot the dog runs around on all fours barking. (shudder) I bet a million bucks Bronte would have been appalled by that.

A major problem of depending on adaptations rather than the original text is the view of Rochester. From Orson Wells on down, Rochester has rarely been portrayed as Bronte wrote him - not even close. The model seems to be more Heathcliff from Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights" and so one critic complained that our Rochester wasn't "dark" enough. Well, more on that in my proper essay, hopefully soon...

You can see how over the top Wells portrays Rochester in this clip Joan Fontaine is also so wrong. She's such a huge un-Janian sap.

It's interesting to compare the proposal scene from Wells' version with the recent BBC's version. While Wells does it 1-2-3, boom, lightning, the Beeb's version draws it the hell out. I also think Ruth Wilson is too whiny AND it annoys the hell out of me that she asks "do you think I am a machine" rather than the original "an automaton."

Watch the BBC's version of the proposal scene here.

The reviewers of my production probably wonder where I got the word "automaton,"

Truth be told, I wasn't entirely satisfied with our proposal scene, but that will be taken care for the next production.

misheard lyrics: Oh, four tuna

Surprisingly funny! Thanks to Bruce Barton for the link.

The actual lyrics:

O Fortuna,
velut Luna
statu variabilis,
semper crescis
aut decrescis;
vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat
et tunc curat
ludo mentis aciem;
egestatem,
potestatem,
dissolvit ut glaciem.

Sors immanis
et inanis,
rota tu volubilis,
status malus,
vana salus
semper dissolubilis;
obumbrata
et velata
mihi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum
dorsum nudum
fero tui sceleris.

Sors salutis
et virtutis
mihi nunc contraria;
est affectus
et defectus
semper in angaria.
hac in hora
sine mora
cordae pulsum tangite!
quod per sortem
sternit fortem,
mecum omnes plangite!

Translation:

O Fortune, like the moon of ever changing state, you are always waxing or waning; hateful life now is brutal, now pampers our feelings with its game; poverty, power, it melts them like ice.

Fate, savage and empty, you are a turning wheel, your position is uncertain, your favour is idle and always likely to disappear; covered in shadows and veiled you bear upon me too; now my back is naked through the sport of your wickedness.

The chance of prosperity and of virtue is not now mine; whether willing or not, a man is always liable for Fortune's service. At this hour without delay touch the strings! Because through luck she lays low the brave, all join with me in lamentation!

That's just what you are

Aimee Mann's "That's Just What You Are" - one of the best fuck-off songs ever.

Listen for free

Lyrics

In our endeavor we are never seeing eye to eye
No guts to serve us so forever may we wave goodbye
And you're always telling me that it's my turn to move
When I wonder what could make the needle jump the groove

I won't fall for the oldest trick in the book
So don't sit there and think you're off of the hook
By saying there is no use changing 'cause

That's just what you are
That's just what you are

Acting steady always ready to defend your fears
What's the matter with the truth, did I offend your ears
By suggesting that a change might be a thing to try
Like it would kill you just to try and be a nicer guy

It's not like you would lose some critical piece
If somehow you moved point A to point B
Maintaining there is no point changing 'cause

That's just what you are
That's just what you are

Now I could talk to you till I'm blue in the face
But we still would arrive at the very same place
With you running around and me out of the race

So maybe you're right, nobody can take
Something older than time and hope you could make
It better, that would be a mistake

So take it just so far

'Cause that's just what you are
That's just what you are
That's just what you are

Acting steady always ready to defend your fears
What's the matter with the truth, did I offend your ears
You're like a sleepwalking man, it's a danger to wake you
Even when it is apparent where your actions will take you

That's just what you are
And that's just what you are
That's just what you are
That's just what you are

NYCPlaywrights Spring Reading

My group NYCPlaywrights does a fundraiser (usually) twice a year. Tomorrow is the Spring Reading fundraiser.

My 10-minute plays MR. BLACK and FOX FORCE FIVE will be part of the lineup.

More information here.

The Lovely Rae

Speaking of talented people I know... by day Reagan Wilson is a business woman, by nights a Renaissance woman of the legitimate thee-aye-tah, but OTHER nights she metaphorphoses into The Lovely Rae, goddess of nouveau burlesque!

Photos

Videos

She also kept me sane during the JANE EYRE run in the face of onrushing arrogance, galloping obnoxiousness and an infestation of snakes, and for that alone she deserves a Nobel Prize.

She's running a show every Thursday in May at Rififi

Good Seeing You Again

Listen to a clip of "Good Seeing You Again" here

One of the actors in my recent JANE EYRE production, Nat Cassidy, (he played St. John Rivers, the hot but Christo-fascist minister who almost takes Jane away to India) is not only a great actor*, he's a great songwriter too. And my very most favorite song of his is "Good Seeing You Again." It is by far the best song ever written by a person I actually know. And if my ex-boyfriend (when we were 16, four years before Nat was born that young bastard) singer-songwriter Dan Montgomery reads this - sorry Dan.

Nat's a huge fan of the Beatles - I mean he knows everything about them and I used to think I was the queen of Beatles trivia but now Nat is the queen.

I'm sure he doesn't mind being called "queen" since Nat is a man who loves women, so being referred to with a female term can only be a compliment. Right Nat?

You can tell the Beatles' influence on Good Seeing because of:
1. the rhythm piano that pops up after the first verse.
2. the fun backing vocals that pop up after the second verse.
3. the lyrics, which start out wonderfully ambivalent, but which, by the end of the song morph into a confession ("I've been wandering round the same old places hoping you'd pass me by") and a heartfelt, totally vulnerable plea for reconcilliation ("And I'm hoping baby you will take me back and that we can start again.")

Actually the lyrics are better than virtually any lyrics written by Paul McCartney - and I love Paul McCartney and always defend him against the John-Lennon-is-God brigade.

Good Seeing kicks into a climax right at the lyrics: "I've been wondering where you've been wandering..." It's just the greatest thing.

But enough dancing about architecture - there is a link at the top of this post, just click it and listen to an excerpt of the song. Then buy the song - at 69 cents you can't afford not to.

Here are the lyrics, posted by permission, thanks Nat:

I'm sorry if it seemed imperfect
I hope you know to me it's worth it
I'm sorry if you can't get over what I mighta done.

I'm sorry for the angry letters.
At least they made me feel much better.
And maybe we can chalk it all up to being said in fun.

Cause it was good seeing you again.
And I hope this time we can be friends.
And I'm sorry for all the times I done yah wrong
And I hope we can start again.

I think the torch has finally gone out
And now your picture don't hold much clout
Cause there's no sense in sitting home
wondering what you coulda changed

I mean you really fucked me up good
And made me feel what no man ever should
But baby I'd still take you back
yes that means I'm just deranged.

And it was good seeing you again
And I hope this time we can be friends.
And I'm sorry bout the time I almost killed your dog
And I hope we can start again.

(musical interlude)

Cause I've been wondering where you've been wandering
And I've been wondering what you've been wondering
Cause I've been walking round the same old places
Hoping you'd pass me by
Cause life's been nothing since the day you took off
And the grief just ain't something that can be shook off
And I've been hoping that maybe you would just give it a try.

And it was good seeing you again
And I hope this time we can be friends.
And I'm hoping baby you will take me back
And that we can start again.
Baby.
Baby.




*if you are an important producer, by all means cast him immediately. Cassidy's Hamlet feeds off his own anger; he's a calculating, would-be angel of death, gathering evidence and biding his time.

I want to be Julie Gunn

Her husband is the most incredibly hot baritone of all time

Holy guacamole.

Vanity Fair hates women

Read the Mein Kampf of male privilege right here

Echidne fights back

My response, as usual, is much less polite than Echidne's. My letter to Vanity Fair:

I have rarely read a screed seething which such misogny as the hate piece by Michael Wolff.

I long suspected that Vanity Fair was a nest of ugly old white men hanging onto male privilege for dear life. Now I know it.

Dear Michael Wolf - I like MUCH younger men. It's not a guy thing, essentialist moron. Now eat shit and die.

If you are a woman over 30 years old and have a subscription to Vanity Fair and you don't cancel that subscription you are A FUCKING IDIOT.

Digby comments

Lance Mannion chimes in

The Daily Howler hasn't discussed it yet, but I did discover that Wolff was the object of Bob's scorn back in 2005.

Damn, I hate to agree with David Mamet

Since reading Mamet's OLEANNA, I've pretty much felt that David Mamet was a reactionary, especially when it comes to evolving gender roles. And recently he came out, in an article in the Village Voice, as a bona fide conservative.

So I really hate to agree with him about anything.
But the article he wrote for The Guardian is right on as far as acting goes. Here is an excerpt:

How do great screen actors portray the truth? By withholding emotion

There is a wonderful old weeper called Penny Serenade. Here we have Irene Dunne and Cary Grant. Their little girl has died in the Great Tokyo Earthquake of nineteen-twenty-something, and they are, of course, bereft.

They are awarded provisional custody of a young orphan, and raise her for four years. Grant then loses his job - it is the Depression - and the orphanage informs him that he is therefore likely to lose custody of his daughter.

He goes to the judge and pleads. Now pleading is, in my experience, the hardest thing for any actor to do. It involves, onstage or off, complete self-abasement and (again whether in life or on stage) is very painful. Most actors, asked to plead, will counterfeit the act. This is called "indicating", and means creation of a recognisable rendition of the action required by the script. Grant, in a magnificent piece of acting, actually pleads. He bares his soul before the judge, who holds the fate of his daughter in his hands.

The performance, however, that I count as ethereal is that occurring behind him.

Beulah Bondi, playing the head of the orphanage, has, through the film, championed the cause of Grant and Dunne. She has told them that the chances of the judge awarding the little girl to a family with no income are nil. She accompanies Grant to the chambers, and sits far off in the background to watch the proceedings.

We know she is disposed toward the supplicant, we see that she has no wish to influence the judge. We understand that she feels that any emotion, utterance, any comment whatever would be detrimental to the case of the pleader; and, further, that she believes in the system as constituted - she has intervened to what she considers the limit of the acceptable, and, though it is painful, she will now withhold herself from the necessary operation of the court.

She accomplishes all this through sitting and watching.

More at The Guardian

He specifies screen actors, but I think it's true, if perhaps to a lesser extent, for stage actors as well.

One of the things that used to drive me crazy when I was producing my play TAM LIN was that it was always so tough to get the actor playing the lead role of Janet to follow the stage directions as written in order for her characterization to have the right impact.

In the play, Janet's father Lord Dunbar, a Scottish warlord, has decided it would be in his own best political interest to marry his youngest daughter Janet to his ally Lord Aberdeen. Janet doesn't know about his plan, and has previously indicated to her lady-in-waiting that she considers him an old man (although Margaret, the lady-in-waiting is in love with Aberdeen from afar, but that's another plot development.

So when Janet does get the news it goes like this:

(Janet is in shock, and just stands there, until Margaret leads her
to Aberdeen.)

DUNBAR
The Lord and Lady of Carterhaugh.

(All except Aberdeen and Janet applaud.)

ABERDEEN
What does my Lady Aberdeen say? Do you like the sound of that? Lady Aberdeen?

(At the question, Janet, still in shock, silently exits.)

I had several different young women play the role and every single damn time I had to tell them, directly or through the director, that they had to JUST STAND THERE IN SHOCK. None of them would do it the first time around. They had to roll their eyes or pout or look in open-mouthed amazement at Margaret or any number of things except stand there in shock. The role allowed for plenty of animation both before and after this moment, which is why doing nothing was so effective. But they NEVER got that until I painstakingly explained it to them. Oy.

Mamet also has some interesting things to say about pleading. One of the biggest challenges for the actor who played Rochester in my recent JANE EYRE was the monologue where Rochester tries to convince Jane that his behavior (trying to marry Jane while he had a wife, albeit a barking mad wife, alive and living in the attic) was understandable, forgivable and that furthermore she should come away with him to France and live in sin (from Jane's perspective) because in spite of any technicalities, Jane and he were truly husband and wife.

I explained up front to him that Rochester was basically pleading his case, almost as if he was a defense lawyer and Jane was a judge. He seemed to find this offensive and we had an argument - although in retrospect I believe now that he was influenced by another actor in the cast who kept trying to direct the play for me. Does David Mamet ever have to deal with bullshit like that? In any case, eventually Rochester and I came to an agreement, and the scene was pretty effective on stage.

You can read the Rochester pleading scene here.

Cinco de Mayo

I'm still hoping that my composition "Cinco de Mayo" will become the official theme song of the holiday.


Yikes, the link was broken. I fixed it.

Go Hillary!

Whoah, I didn't realize Senator Evan Bayh was so damn cute. If there was any justice in the world, Hillary would be getting some of that.

Is There a Real Woman in This Multiplex?

Awesome rant from Manohla Dargis

excerpt...

In “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” the lucky guy is Peter (the screenwriter Jason Segel), whose stunning conquest, Rachel (Mila Kunis), is so out of his league as to be in another universe. No matter. Peter snags this prize specifically because - from his full-frontal nudity to his penchant for hugs and voluble crying jags, for which he's literally mistaken for a woman - he’s basically another chick, or what Arnold Schwarzenegger once called a girlie man. (The softly plumped Mr. Segel even looks as if he could fit into an A cup.) In one scene Peter goes swimming with Rachel only to end up clinging to the side of a cliff. Rachel, who has already taken the plunge, laughingly yells up at him, "I can see your vagina!"

Better a virtual vagina, I suppose, than none at all. Last year only 3 of the 20 highest-grossing releases in America were female-driven, and involve a princess ("Enchanted") or pregnancy ("Knocked Up" and "Juno"). Actresses had starring roles in about a quarter of the next 80 highest-grossing titles, mostly in dopey romantic comedies and dopier thrillers. A number of these were among the worst-reviewed movies of the year, including "Premonition" (Sandra Bullock) and "The Reaping" (Hilary Swank), the last of which was released by - ta-da! - Warner Brothers. The days of "Million Dollar Baby," for which Ms. Swank won an Oscar, and "Speed," which rocketed Ms. Bullock to stardom in the summer of 1994, feel long gone.

There may be more women working in the industry now — Amy Pascal is a co-chairman of Sony Pictures Entertainment — but you wouldn’t know it from what's on the screen. The reasons are complex and certainly beyond the scope of a seasonal rant like this one. Some point to the lack of female directors, whose numbers in both the mainstream and independent realms hover at around 6 percent. Others blame the female audience, though the success of “Baby Mama” indicates — just as the summer hit "The Devil Wears Prada" suggested two years ago — that if given something decent that speaks to their lives and lets them leave the theater without feeling slimed, women will turn out. The Apatow she-male isn’t bad, but give me the real deal any day.

One thing I meant to blog about was the antagonism between Jon Stewart and Judd Apatow when the latter appeared on The Daily Show . Although maybe it's wishful thinking on my part - I already think Jon Stewart is amazing, dare I hope that he's so cool that he also dislikes Judd Apatow, the People's Asshole? Oh Jon Stewart, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you!

Wildwood Summer

The easiest money I've ever made as a writer was the short story I sold to Freshmen a gay men's erotica mag in the 1990s. My story, "Wildwood Summer" was published in the October 1996 issue.

I'm surprised this magazine is still being published - I would have thought the easy access to virtually any erotic genre thought of by humankind through the Internet would have killed paper magazines. I'm sorry to say that my issue is not available on the one back issues site I found, although November and December 1996 are available.

I just re-read my story, and it's not bad, as a story. In fact it's kind of funny how much of the story is not about sex, although the sex bits are quite explicit.

My nom de plume was Eric Lahr, which is an anagram of the name Earl Rich, the insanely sexy married man I was pining for at the time. I never got to show him the published story though - he died a month before the issue came out, in a motorcycle accident.

I'm very big with sublimating my desires into art, and this story is another example. It is a story about two guys, Vinny and Woody, and I lived vicariously through Vinny and Woody was a stand-in for Earl. Not that Earl was gay, although lots of gay men had crushes on him. But Earl liked to surf down the Jersey shore, and his wife was named Michele, with one "L" just like Woody's girlfriend in the story.

At the time I wrote this, I thought I was a real trailblazer, a straight woman writing gay erotica. But actually the fan fiction sub-genre known as "slash" had been around for years. Since then I wrote a play about two women writing a story together called THE SLASH, which I self-produced in 2004. It was later produced by Looking Glass theatre, but I try to forget about that experience, since the director had no respect for me, casting one of the worst actors ever in one of the roles, and then inserting a line from Brokeback Mountain ("I wish I could quit you") for the last performance. One more lousy experience with a director, which is why I direct my stuff myself.

I rarely write anything these days besides playscripts, blog posts, and technical manuals. And actually I'm not a big fiction reader - most fiction bores me. But I do love four particular novels.

I've already adapted two of those four into plays - JANE EYRE and HUCK FINN. I have no desire to adapt "To Kill a Mockingbird" since a good adaptation has already been done, and I can't adapt "Catcher in the Rye" because nobody is permitted to do such a thing. My four favorite novels are all written in first-person, and so is my Wildwood story, and looking at it now, it's funny how much my style is influenced by Catcher. My Vinny sounds like a half-Irish half-Italian gay Holden Caulfield.

I always find it easier to adapt novels into plays than writing original plots. I think I'll adapt my own story into a play.

"Wildwood Summer" is about being true to yourself. And hot manly sex.

Here's how it begins:

This is the story of two guys, Vinny and Woody. I'm Vinny. I met Woody last summer while I was working down the shore in Wildwood, NJ. My job was renting out beach umbrellas and Boogie boards. I liked my job - it paid enough to cover another semester at Rutgers, and I got to hang out on the beach. One thing I especially liked about Wildwood was that it was full of Italian guys. I'm half Italian myself, which is why I tan so deeply, and I'm half Irish, which is why I have the blue eyes. You'll hate me for this, but I'm in great shape and I don't even work out that much. I have one of these wiry, muscular physiques. I know it sounds conceited, but I'm just telling you how it is.

The day I met Woody was typical: I got up, showered, and put on my swim trunks, a pair of flip-flops, shades, and a gold chain with my apartment key around my neck. Then it was off to work. I got to the beach by 11 a.m.

By 2 that day I was bored. I was standing there slathering some more lotion on my smooth pecs when along comes this dork of a customer. At least I thought he was a dork at first because he was wearing a white terry-cloth robe and a straw hat. But when he got up close, I could see that he was a damn cute guy. In this soft, husky voice, he said he wanted to rent an umbrella. I had him sign my clipboard. His name was Woodrow Brooke Lovejoy III.

"That's some name you got," I said. I bet old Lovejoy didn't have to work for his college education; his name said money loud and clear.
"Yeah, I guess. They call me Woody." He smiled this crooked little smile that made my...

You can read the rest of it, with the explicit sex parts left out here.

If you want to read the version published in the magazine you can email me at nancy at mergatroyd dot org and I'll tell you where you can read it online.

Seven Samurai

Akira Kurosawa's "Seven Samurai" is the best movie ever made. Period. Do not give me no "Citizen Kane" crap. SS beats CK by every criterion.

You can watch a trailer for Seven Samurai on youtube here.

Seven Samurai wiki.

Roger Ebert's review of Seven Samurai


The youngest Samurai (the guy on the left in the photo above) looks a little like my ex-boyfriend (although he's Korean.)

Everybody should read Krugman

More in the NYTimes

The Democrats have been offering real plans in response; they’re not perfect, but they are serious.

The G.O.P., by contrast — and this goes as much for Mr. McCain as for the Bush administration — hasn’t even tried to address concerns about coverage. Instead, it has all been about costs, which Republicans insist (wrongly) can be dramatically reduced by a policy of, you guessed it, deregulation and tax cuts.

Until a few days ago, the only answer the McCain campaign offered to those worried about lack of coverage was the vague, implausible assertion that the magic of the marketplace would make health care cheap enough for everyone to afford.

Now Mr. McCain has admitted that maybe a government program is needed for those who can’t get private insurance. This appears to be a response to criticism from Elizabeth Edwards, who has been pointing out that deregulated insurers would deny coverage to anyone with, say, a history of cancer — a category that includes both her and Mr. McCain himself. But the way Mrs. Edwards has rattled the McCain campaign is evidence of just how vulnerable he is on the issue.

The point is that the health care issue could be Exhibit A for a Democratic campaign based on the argument that they are the party of pragmatic solutions, while modern Republicans won’t even acknowledge problems that don’t fit into their rigid ideological framework.

But are Democrats ready to make that case?

To be clear, both Democratic candidates have been saying things they shouldn’t; Hillary Clinton shouldn’t have endorsed the bad idea of a gas tax holiday.

But I think Mr. Obama is doing much more harm to the Democratic cause by echoing Republican attack lines on such issues as insurance mandates and Social Security. And now he’s demonstrating his post-partisanship by giving Republicans credit for good ideas they never had.

More on the Queen Bee syndrome

I came across James Martin Capozzola's web site Rittenhouse Review today, and the article for which he won the 2002 Koufax Award (given to lefty bloggers) "Al Gore and the Alpha Girls."

This section in particular is enlightening...

Watching the media’s unrelenting pig pile on Al Gore in recent weeks revived these teenage memories, many of them unpleasant, even painful. And as I thought about the matter and observed purportedly mature men - mostly men anyway - attack Gore with a ferocity I had not witnessed since I said good-bye to the Class of 1980, I thought also of “Girls Just Want to be Mean,” an article by Margaret Talbot in the February 24 issue of the New York Times Magazine.

I found Talbot’s essay spellbinding, fascinating, and extraordinarily accurate, at least with respect to my own high school years and much of what I had heard about kids today from friends and colleagues. I was surprised to see Talbot’s piece greeted in many quarters, the predictable and otherwise, with venomous hostility and transparent denial. In the article, which was based upon visits to several schools and extensive interviews with students and teachers, Talbot identifies the characteristic traits and behavioral patterns of the most selective girls’ cliques, the members of which she refers to as “Alpha Girls” and “Queen Bees.”

Alpha Girls, Talbot wrote, armed with intelligence and cunning, devote considerable time and energy to waging complicated, intricate, and highly personalized battles with other girls of similar age, the intent of which is to damage the other girls' friendships, relationships, and reputations, all in an effort to enhance and sustain their popularity and status.

The Alphas accomplish their goals through a wide variety of means, including spreading rumors - some true or at least based on truth, others wildly false - using the power of information and the means of its distribution to assault their prey. With an uncanny ability to identify and exploit their victims’ weaknesses, their opponents’ most vulnerable Achilles’ heels, the Alphas mercilessly exclude from membership - or "merely" reduce the social standing of -- those who don't make the cut.

Membership in the group is uncompromisingly exclusive - like the all-male Augusta National Club, obvious eagerness to join is certain to result in rejection - and unquestioning loyalty to the group’s mores and agenda is required for a girl to maintain membership in good standing. Even the most petty offense - wearing the wrong clothes on the wrong day, eating the wrong food in the cafeteria or even eating in the cafeteria at all, or joining the wrong extracurricular activity, to say nothing of speaking with, or worse, dating, the wrong boy - is grounds for immediate expulsion.

Alliances, many of them temporary and fleeting, are a critical element of the Alphas’ strategy. When it suits them, Alphas will befriend a girl with whom they would not ordinarily be associated with the sole intent - not always apparent to the newly befriended girl -- of inflicting revenge and retribution on their latest victim. Although Alphas can be mean and cruel, they aren’t physical; catfights aren’t their thing. Rather than engaging in physical altercations, they rely on words, insults, rumor, gossip, innuendo, and manipulation. And the Alphas use others who are not members of the clique, including girls aspiring to this lofty status, and boys, naturally the most popular boys whenever possible, in their campaigns to ruin the reputations of others they find threatening or morally, intellectually, socially, or physically superior.

...

The Betas and the Gammas

In her Times essay, Talbot identified two other groups in the social hierarchy of high school girls: the Betas and the Gammas.

The "Beta Girls," or "Alpha Wannabees," rank just below the Alpha Girls. Although the Betas generally earn better grades than the Alphas, demonstrate greater achievement in extra-curricular activities, and typically enjoy the favor of teachers and parents, most wish desperately to become Alphas. Their self-directed, usually independent, Alpha-directed membership drives can border on the obsessive and even the pathetic. Beyond their quest for membership in the school’s highest-ranking clique, the Betas’ most clearly identifiable motivation is fear of offending the Alphas, this out of a justifiable reluctance to become the group's latest target.

Finally, according to Talbot, there are the “Gamma Girls,” girls who generally fit the standard characteristics of the familiar label, “Most Likely to Succeed.” These girls, while not the most popular or most successful girls in school, also happen to be among the most well adjusted. They view themselves and evaluate their peers on the basis of their accomplishments and personal qualities rather than their appearance or social standing; they are often the most consistently congenial girls in school, this despite their often depressed self-esteem; they form new friendships easily and end them without conflict or animosity; and their relationships are more circular than hierarchical in nature, a testament to their more advanced mental and emotional development. The Gammas differ from the Betas, however, in that the Gammas profess a complete lack of interest in becoming Alphas, and this lack of interest, sometimes affected by a few Betas, is genuine.

(My own observation, one not developed by Talbot, is that the Alphas, knowingly or not, tend to define themselves in opposition to the Gammas, those who are, in truth but in secret, the Alphas’ most dreaded adversaries. The Gammas, though, are not cognizant of this latent power and therefore are consigned to operating at an unwarranted disadvantage.)

Spaulding Gray/Our Town

God I love Spaulding Gray. I first knew of him when I was home sick from work one day and caught Lincoln Center's production of OUR TOWN on PBS. Then I saw Swimming to Cambodia and I was hooked. I even dragged my (ex) boyfriend, my daughter and her (ex) boyfriend to Manhattan (when I lived in South Jersey and had very little disposable income) to see him do his monologue "It's a Slippery Slope" back in the mid-90s.

You can see Spaulding at the end of this clip, which is the end of the LC OUR TOWN production, and which has to be violating all kinds of copyright laws by being on youtube. So until they take it down, watch it.

OUR TOWN is a masterpiece and not JUST because the set and props expenses for the play are minimal - although, having just gone through an expensive costume production of JANE EYRE myself I REALLY appreciate that aspect of the play. I wrote an essay Why OUR TOWN is Great, defending the play against too-kewl hipsters.

Nietzsche ain't that peachy

What the hell IS IT with Nietzsche??? When guys on dating sites say they are interested in philosophy, I think, cool, maybe we can philosophize together. So I ask them, who is your favorite philosopher. They ALWAYS - and I mean every single goddam time - say 'NIETZSCHE'!!!

Not only is it tiresome but everything of value that Nietzsche ever said practically, he got from Schopenhauer. There are some people who claim to be interested in philosophy who don't even know who Schopenhauer is.

I find Schopenhauer a great comfort when I'm lonely, in part because few people were as lonely as Schopenhauer, who in the end was alienated from his mother, his sister, and almost everybody else, except his dog Atma.

Some interesting comments from Schopenhauer

A man of intellect is like an artist who gives a concert without any
help from anyone else, playing on a single instrument--a piano, say,
which is a little orchestra in itself. Such a man is a little world in
himself; and the effect produced by various instruments together, he
produces single-handed, in the unity of his own consciousness. Like
the piano, he has no place in a symphony: he is a soloist and performs
by himself,--in solitude, it may be; or, if in company with other
instruments, only as principal; or for setting the tone, as in
singing. However, those who are fond of society from time to time
may profit by this simile, and lay it down as a general rule that
deficiency of quality in those we meet may be to some extent
compensated by an increase in quantity. One man's company may be quite
enough, if he is clever; but where you have only ordinary people to
deal with, it is advisable to have a great many of them, so that
some advantage may accrue by letting them all work together,--on the
analogy of the horns; and may Heaven grant you patience for your task!

That mental vacuity and barrenness of soul to which I have alluded, is
responsible for another misfortune. When men of the better class form
a society for promoting some noble or ideal aim, the result almost
always is that the innumerable mob of humanity comes crowding in too,
as it always does everywhere, like vermin--their object being to try
and get rid of boredom, or some other defect of their nature; and
anything that will effect that, they seize upon at once, without the
slightest discrimination. Some of them will slip into that society,
or push themselves in, and then either soon destroy it altogether, or
alter it so much that in the end it comes to have a purpose the exact
opposite of that which it had at first.


Schopenhauer on writing
It would generally serve writers in good stead if they would see that,
whilst a man should, if possible, think like a great genius, he should
talk the same language as everyone else. Authors should use common
words to say uncommon things. But they do just the opposite. We find
them trying to wrap up trivial ideas in grand words, and to clothe
their very ordinary thoughts in the most extraordinary phrases, the
most far-fetched, unnatural, and out-of-the-way expressions. Their
sentences perpetually stalk about on stilts. They take so much
pleasure in bombast, and write in such a high-flown, bloated,
affected, hyperbolical and acrobatic style that their prototype is
Ancient Pistol, whom his friend Falstaff once impatiently told to say
what he had to say _like a man of this world._[1]

[Footnote 1: _King Henry IV_., Part II. Act v. Sc. 3.]

Women & Hollywood

Good blog I just learned about by way of Echidne.

Bully Christians are at it again

When Specialist Jeremy Hall held a meeting last July for atheists and freethinkers at Camp Speicher in Iraq, he was excited, he said, to see an officer attending.

But minutes into the talk, the officer, Maj. Freddy J. Welborn, began to berate Specialist Hall and another soldier about atheism, Specialist Hall wrote in a sworn statement. “People like you are not holding up the Constitution and are going against what the founding fathers, who were Christians, wanted for America!” Major Welborn said, according to the statement.

Major Welborn told the soldiers he might bar them from re-enlistment and bring charges against them, according to the statement.

More at the NYTimes

Top most stupid headlines on men's online dating profiles

These are actual headlines for men's profiles:

"I didn't lose my mind, I sold it on ebay"

"Cuttle at home time!"

"wabbit seeks ms. wabbit"

"You really don't want to know!"

"Casting Now for starring role in my life"

"Puppies, flowers, and uranium"

"Confident, Secure, Slightly Conceited"

"WARNING: Not approved by the FDA"

“Just another clown”

“I am a person”

“Well trained...needs good home”

"Me love U long time"
(aren't those the words of a Bankok prostitute???)

"WARNING PROCEED WITH CAUTION"

"Guy with puppy envy"



And the number one most popular headline: "Nice guy looking for nice girl"

I've said it before but really, I can't say it enough - I LOVE YOU PAUL KRUGMAN!!!

From the NYTimes

During the closing days of the Pennsylvania primary fight, the Obama campaign ran a TV ad repeating the dishonest charge that the Clinton plan would force people to buy health insurance they can’t afford. It was as negative as any ad that Mrs. Clinton has run — but perhaps more important, it was fear-mongering aimed at people who don’t think they need insurance, rather than reassurance for families who are trying to get coverage or are afraid of losing it.

No wonder, then, that older Democrats continue to favor Mrs. Clinton.

The question Democrats, both inside and outside the Obama campaign, should be asking themselves is this: now that the magic has dissipated, what is the campaign about? More generally, what are the Democrats for in this election?

That should be an easy question to answer. Democrats can justly portray themselves as the party of economic security, the party that created Social Security and Medicare and defended those programs against Republican attacks — and the party that can bring assured health coverage to all Americans.

They can also portray themselves as the party of prosperity: the contrast between the Clinton economy and the Bush economy is the best free advertisement that Democrats have had since Herbert Hoover.

But the message that Democrats are ready to continue and build on a grand tradition doesn’t mesh well with claims to be bringing a “new politics” and rhetoric that places blame for our current state equally on both parties.

And unless Democrats can get past this self-inflicted state of confusion, there’s a very good chance that they’ll snatch defeat from the jaws of victory this fall.

Beebo Brinker and production values

The Dramatists Guild was giving away tickets to see Beebo Brinker the off-Broadway production of the off-off Broadway cult hit, so I took my daughter to see it, since she read the original Beebo Brinker lesbian pulp fiction that the play was based on.

At the end of my recent JANE EYRE run, one of the actors emailed me and said I should feel proud of my accomplishment. At the time I was feeling very down since several of the actors in the JANE production had turned out to be huge creeps in my book, and it made me very depressed. But in retrospect, and after seeing BEEBO, he's right.

I can't claim to be impartial, but I really think that JANE was a better play. And not just because of the script, but because of everything.

I'm sure BEEBO has a much bigger budget than JANE had, and it is off-Broadway whereas JANE was off-off Broadway.

The BEEBO set was more minimalistic than Jane - although they did have a nifty bed that pulled out from below a set of stairs. But in general the set looked very cold and empty. While the BEEBO play, when it was on the right track, was hot and busy.

I think that the JANE set was just minimal enough to be versatile, but not so minimal that it took away from the script.



Our location was much better too, which was worth it even though I practically paid for the theatre in my own blood it was so damn expensive. But it was right down the street from the Al Hirshfeld, a bona fide Broadway theatre.

And the acting in JANE, for the most part, was every bit as good as the BEEBO acting. Although the BEEBO cast included Bill Dawes, my MySpace friend. Who looks very hot without a shirt, I might add. He had to play the straight man in BEEBO (in both senses of the word) but he's really funny, althought a little defensive about teh gay..

Daily Howler to the rescue

I just cannot read a column by Maureen Dowd without knowing that Bob at Daily Howler will have something to say about it:

DOWD: Is he skittish around her because he knows that she detests him and he's used to charming everyone? Or does he feel guilty that he cut in line ahead of her? As the husband of Michelle, does he know better than to defy the will of a strong woman? Or is he simply scared of Hillary because she's scary?

Yeah, of course—that’s probably it! Readers, it all becomes so clear when somebody finally says it!

This year’s campaign has shown what can happen when a party has two closely-matched candidates. There are potential downsides for the party, as anyone can see. But journos like Dowd think it’s their role to demand that the person they hate should just quit. Those million-plus Democrats don’t exist in Dowd’s world. In Dowd’s world, Dowd wants Clinton to quit. And so, by the laws of childish dreams, “the Democrats” must want that too.

*****

And he has that right - Dowd HATES Hillary Clinton. Which is yet one more reason why you know Clinton will make a good president.

I've been reading up about sociopaths lately

Scary and fascinating...

Sociopaths don't have normal affection with other people. They don't feel attached to others. They don't feel love. And that is why they don't have a conscience. If you harmed someone, even someone you didn't know, you would feel guilt and remorse. Why? Because you have a natural affinity for other human beings. You know how it feels to suffer, to fear, to feel anguish. You care about others. And if you hurt someone you love, the guilt and remorse would be very bad because of your affection for him or her. Take that attachment and affection away and you take away remorse, guilt, and any kind of normal feelings of fairness. That's a sociopath.

and

WHAT DO THEY WANT?

This is an interesting question. Of course most people have purposes that are strongly influenced by our connections and affections with others. Our relationships with others, and our love for them, give us most of the meaning in life. So if a sociopath doesn't have these things, what is left? What kind of purposes do they have? The answer is chilling: They want to win. Take away love and relationships and all you have left is winning the game, whatever the game is decided to be. If they are in business, it is becoming rich. If it is sibling rivalry, it is defeating the sibling. If it is a contest, the goal is to dominate. If a sociopath is the envious sort, winning would be making the other lose, or fail, or be frustrated, or embarrassed.

A sociopath's goal is to win. And he is willing to do anything at all to win. And sociopaths have nothing else to think about, so they can be very clever and conniving. Sociopaths are not busy being concerned with relationships or moral dilemmas or conflicting feelings, so they have much more time to think about clever ways to gain your trust and stab you in the back, and how to do it without anyone knowing what's happening.

more about sociopaths here

And more here:

The Superficiality of Image

On the surface, sociopaths may, at first and even for a long time, appear to function smoothly. Their manners are impeccable; they are well groomed; they fulfill the codes of romance and courtship to a tee. They are likely to be eloquent talkers who lace their speech with impressive sounding facts and figures. They may be fun, laugh a lot, sweep you off your feet with their sweetness. They may also seem ambitious, driven, and fond of grand, impetuous schemes for their success. Unfortunately, this behavior is an act for the sociopath. It is simply a means to getting what they want without thought to future consequences or your feelings.

even more about sociopaths

I Claudius part 2

Thinking of I, Claudius, I remembered just how damn freaky that show could get. This is one of the best scenes - Claudius and two other noble Romans are waiting fearfully for an audience with Caligula, hoping they won't be executed - suddenly Caligula appears as...

You have to watch John Hurt doing the best Caligula evah.

Love is Like a Ball and Chain

Janis at Woodstock

More angst about love

Sitting down by my window,
Whoa, whoa, looking at the rain.
Whoa, down by my window, baby,
And all around me,
I said suddenly I felt the rain.
Somethin' grabbed a hold of me, darling,
Honey, it felt to me, honey like, yeah, a ball and chain.
Oh honey, you know what I mean,
It just hurts me.

Say, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, honey, it can't be
Whoa, it can't be, babe,
Said no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, hey.
Whoa, baby, it just can't be
Every time I want to reach out my hand.
No, no, no, no, no, babe, baby, never, no, no,
Never, never, no, no, no.
Here you gone today, but I wanted to love you, darling,
Oh, till the end of time,
Yeah! All right!

Love's got a hold on me baby
Feels like a ball and chain.
Oh, love just draggin' me down, yeah yeah yeah,
Feels like, honey sometimes it feels honey like a ball, yeah like a ball and a chain
Wonder why when I did the very best I could to love you
You wanted to leave me here, honey in so much pain
Come on, honey, I want you to tell me, please, yeah.

Say oh, oh, oh, oh,
Honey this can't be
No, no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no yeah.
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Honey, this can't be just because I want to want you
Does this mean I have to hide to cry, cry all the time ?
I just wanted to love you, darling,
Every day, oh, whoa, till the, to the very end, to the end of time,
Yeah, no no no no no, hit it!

Love's got a hold on me, baby,
Feels like a ball and chain.
Oh, love's holdin' on to me,
Feels to me, oh like a ball and a chain
Honey somethin' will grab around the knees, grab me in my heart,
Feels to me like a ball and a chain now,
Yeah, alright, yeah!

Say oh, oh oh oh,
Honey this can't be
Tell me please what am I askin' now,
It can't be babe
I know it just can't be, darling, no no.
Whoa whoa whoa, whoa darling don't you feel me reachin' out
Tell me, tell me, darling please
Tell, tell, tell me darling please, I'm gonna need it,
I want you to hear me baby
Tell me why, sometimes darling
I said sometimes I feel I got to know why
Sometimes I feel, honey, honey that I need to know why
I said baby when I ask you
I could use a little help sometime
When I say, I say tell me, come on man,
Tell me, tell me, babe,
Honey I never understood, why when I want to work my hands out,
I want to wear my hands out, I try the very best I can, babe
Why you always want to go, honey and let me down baby.
I said why I always wanna go, honey drag me around.
Seems like anything, it could be the telephone company man,
it could be the man I love, I always got something else going, you know what I mean ?
Over on the other side, say, not quite got it right this very minute.
I'm so sorry babe, I said I'm so very sorry babe,
But I never did promise you nothing, right ? I see what you mean.
Come on, man, now come on, that ain't the name of it,
And that ain't the end of it, you know what I mean.
Sometimes, it feels just about breaking things, you know what I mean.
Just like, just like a grave, just like a grave to call
Just like a cry to call.
Honey I never understood and I said please
Lord, I swear I never understood and I say please
I want you to help me, fill it up baby,
I want you to help me, I said allow me to hear
Please, please, please, please, please, please, please,
Honey make me understand why love just feels so heavy on me, darling,
Feels so bad on my back, babe,
Feels just like a ball,
Feels like a ball, ball, oh daddy feels like a ball,
And a chain.

Running up that Hill

Watch the Kate Bush video


It doesn't hurt me.
You want to feel, how it feels?
You want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me?
You want to hear about the deal I'm making.
You,
You and me

And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
Get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building.
If I only could

You don't want to hurt me,
But see how deep the bullet lies.
Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder.
There is thunder in our hearts, baby

So much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
You,
It's you and me
It's You and me, won't be unhappy

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building.
If I only could

Come on, baby, come on, come on, darling,
Let me steal this moment from you now.
Come on angel, come on, come on, darling,
Let's exchange the experience

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems.

And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems.

If I only could, be running up that hill
If I only could, be running up that hill
If I only could, be running up that hill
If I only could, be running up that hill
If I only could, be running up that hill
If I only could, be running up that hill
If I only could, be running up that hill


Wiki about Running up that hill

HUCK FINN in Central Park

My next production will be HUCK FINN in Central Park. The audience at the Metropolitan Playhouse's Twainathon seemed to really like my HUCK. Even the guy running the festival told a mutual acquaintance he thought it was a great adaptation - even though he apparently loathed me personally, because he thinks I'm a "control freak." In addition to the fact that you really can't exert too much control when you're the playwright/director/producer - as I found out with my JANE EYRE production - he based his assessment of my control freakyness on the fact that I asked him a bunch of questions at the outset of the production - since asking questions is how you learn things, especially when the person in charge isn't giving you the information you need. Argh.

Avoiding unpleasant people and not getting sued, are big reasons why I do the whole producing/directing/writing thing myself.

The big advantage of doing a show in Central Park is you don't have to fork over thousands of dollars for the space, like you do if you rent a theatre in Manhattan. Theatre rental is usually half the budget or more.

So in late summer, look for HUCK FINN in Central Park.

Top 3 worst play formats

These three types of plays show up all the time, everywhere from readings to Broadway and they drive me crazy.

Zoo Story Clone

Usually done in short-play format.

I am one of the few people in the theatre world who is completely unimpressed by Edward Albee's ZOO STORY. The formula is simple - put two men together, have them talk and talk and then suddenly one of the men violently attacks the other. The end.

There is rarely an evening of short plays that does not include an example of this genre. I just saw another one last night at the Turnip 15 minute play festival.

Bickerfest

Similiar to Zoo Story clone but without the exciting violence at the end. And the people arguing - or rather bickering which is basically arguing about trifles - are not necessarily both men. People bickering is not drama. Few people in the theatre world get that.

Wallowing in Squalor

Writing this type of play will win you a Pulitzer, as AUGUST: OSAGE COUNTY demonstrates. Wallowing in squalor is a genre that allows wealthy upper-class theatre-goers to enjoy the misery of dysfunctional and/or poor people, who suffer and do bad things and then die, go insane or just sink down into their own filth and hopelessness. Class war as guilt-free art.

RIP Stanley Kamel

I am distraught - Stanley Kamel has died - he died a week ago and I just found out about it. I rarely care about celebrities but he was so wonderful as Monk's psychiatrist Joseph Kroger. I actually had a huge crush on him and I very rarely get crushes on older guys.

You can watch a clip of him on Monk here.

Tony Shaloub on the torture of being in a bad play. What I want to know is why do actors so often AGREE TO BE IN BAD PLAYS?

Love Poems

Enthralled

By Alfred Bryan

Teach me to sin--
In love's forbidden ways,
For you can make all passion pure;
The magic lure of your sweet eyes
Each shape of sin makes virtue praise.

Teach me to sin--
Enslave me to your wanton charms,
Crush me in your velvet arms
And make me, make me love you.
Make me fire your blood with new desire,
And make me kiss you--lip and limb,
Till sense reel and pulses swim.
Aye! even if you hate me,
Teach me to sin.

I Loved You

Alexander Pushkin


I loved you; even now I may confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.
Hopeless and tonguetied, yet I loved you dearly
With pangs the jealous and the timid know;
So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,
I pray God grant another love you so.


I Would Live in Your Love

Sarah Teasdale


I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,
Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave
that recedes;

I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me,
I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul
as it leads.


More love poems

My Hero Roy Edroso

The Official Village Voice Election-Season Guide to the Right-Wing Blogosphere

Favorite feature - each conservative blogger gets an evil/stupid ratio rating.

And then Roy provides feedback from the conservatives about his article.

Those naughty poets

Delving into sonnets has introduced me to facets of poetry and poets that I did not know about. Especially the fact that Shakespeare has lots of company in writing about sex, as he did pretty explicitely in Sonnet 151. Even lil old Emily Dickinson wrote naughty verse.

A recently published book The Best American Erotic Poetry includes Dickinson and Walt Whitman, even Francis Scott Key. By the dawn's early light indeed.

Of course, being only American poetry, the book leaves out the likes of Shakespeare and Catullus (whose work is the basis of Carl Orff's bawdy Catullus Carmina, the lesser-known work of his scenic cantata triptych which includes two other erotic-tinged works Carmina Burana and the obviously carnal Trionfo di Afrodite.)

I'll have to find a more international book on the subject.

But now Emily Dickinson gets freaky.

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile the winds
To a heart in port,
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!

*****

Clearly the sea is an excellent source of erotic metaphor.

I am afraid of my own play

My latest play will have a reading at NYCPlaywrights this week. It's called EARLY ONE MORNING but I'm having a hard time working on it thanks to the fact that it involves Numbers Stations. There's something about them that I find unbearably creepy. I can't work on my play at night because I'm so creeped out. Here's what Wikipedia says:

Numbers stations are shortwave radio stations of uncertain origin. They generally broadcast voices reading streams of numbers, words, letters (sometimes using a radio alphabet), tunes or morse code.

The voices that can be heard on these stations are often mechanically generated. They are in a wide variety of languages, and the voices are usually women's, though sometimes men's or children's voices are used.

And NOW you can listen to many of the numbers stations (with video) on youtube.

You can watch a TV segment about them on youtube as well.

I was inspired by The Lincolnshire Poacher numbers station for my play. That station gets its name from the folk tune it uses. My play's fictional numbers station plays the folk tune Early One Morning.

JANE EYRE costumes

Viviane Galloway did the costumes for JANE EYRE - here is some of her work from sketch to completion below. Not only is Viviane very talented, she is a joy to work with. And she always helps me see that when dealing with bitchy actors, the problem is not ME:

"Photo calls are always tough--I feel actors are a bit selfish in that respect. They don't seem to understand that all this work has gone on around them, and that there are people who need to document that work. But in the end they always want to see the photos, so I don't get it!"

I just love Viviane.


See a larger version of this image.

Dazed & Confused

Some of the best moments from "Dazed and Confused"

Bowling ball

This country was founded by people who were into aliens

You got to do what Randall Pink Floyd wants to do man.

Another great movie about the 70s - Boogie Nights

The sign just blows up because the name is so powerful

Heavenly

The British "twee" band Heavenly was great and way too unknown for their talent. My daughter turned me onto them in the 90s and I enjoy them more all the time. And my friend Phoebe Summersquash toured with them!

Here's the wiki for her band Small Factory.

Some favorite Heavenly lyrics below... and you can listen to a clip from Cool Guitar Boy.

He looks so cool in his jeans that are real tight bleached ripped split
And he's sort of cute in his coat: plastic mac with gold glitter on
He's really gear in his shirt, coloured purple-pink splash design
He looks just great in his boots: pointy ankle-highs

I love him lots and I wish he'd see me: the Cool Guitar Boy
He looks so brilliant when he plays his twelve-string and smiles
Oh pure joy!

And I wish he'd see me
And I want him to love me
Cos I know there's heaven, heaven in his arms

He looks so neat with his hair which is tousled up long mess and
He acts all coy, smiles and hides. Could he like me? I have to guess
He looks so cool in his shades, hide his eyes, might be looking my way
Never speaks, which I like, doesn't have much to say

I love him lots and I wish he'd see me: the Cool Guitar Boy
He looks so brilliant when he plays his twelve-string and smiles
Oh pure joy!

And I wish he'd see me
And I want him to love me
Cos I know there's heaven, heaven in his arms

Love & Art & Dumbarton Oaks

Art created in the name of love, especially romantic love, is a concept I've always found highly appealing.

So many great works of art from the Taj Mahal to Shakespeare's Sonnets to Layla have their origins in romatic love.

I owe my theatre career almost entirely to romantic love. When I was 30 I was a graphic artist hoping to throw myself completely into illustration or even pure painting once my daughter was independent. But then I met Chris, the most beautiful man in the world, who happened to be involved in community theatre, and one thing led to another - playwriting-wise - and eventually I was in Manhattan, watching a performance of my play MONKEY'S PAW 2000, directed by my boyfriend Jonathan. A few years later Jonathan produced my play TAM LIN. After we broke up he had nothing further to do with theatre, and always claimed to hate actors, so I can only conclude he had done it all for love.

I recently heard Concerto in E flat - Dumbarton Oaks on the radio and became intrigued because it was written on commission by Igor Stravinsky for Robert Woods Bliss to celebrate his 30th wedding anniversary. In spite of this, and being a diplomat and having his home become a research library, Robert Woods Bliss has no entry in Wikipedia. I want to know more about him because I want to learn if he and his wife were truly devoted to each other after 30 years of marriage. I hope so.

Fred Rogers - giving Christianity a good name

These days when someone says they are a Christian, and feels that it is their duty to try to tell other people to become Christians, it invariably turns out that all their talk of Christian virtures is simply a way to smother their conscience and avoid examining their deepest impulses and desires. Certainly there have been enough famous Christian preachers who have been caught practicing what they preached against - so many that when I hear someone proclaim what a big Christian they are, I immediately become wary of them, which usually turns out to be the path of wisdom.

Ole Fred Rogers did NOT make a big show of his Christian beliefs. He simply made people, and not only children, feel better. There was an article in the TV Guide in 1985 about Lauren Tewes, who had been a cast member of the TV show The Love Boat:

When Lauren Tewes heard Mr. Rogers offer and question, “I’ll be your friend. Will you be mine?” she broke down in tears and answered aloud, “Yes! Yes, I will!” She later said, “I resolved at that point to get my life together. I was totally collapsed, and Mr. Rogers saved my life — with an offer of friendship.

Naturally this sort of display of honest emotion, vulnerabilty and sincerity is met with derision, and Mr Rogers was mocked and dismissed by those who, I guess, fancy themselves sophisticates. I found this account very interesting:

Yes, at seventy years old and 143 pounds, Mister Rogers still fights, and indeed, early this year, when television handed him its highest honor, he responded by telling television--gently; of course--to just shut up for once, and television listened. He had already won his third Daytime Emmy, and now he went onstage to accept Emmy's Lifetime Achievement Award, and there, in front of all the soap-opera stars and talk-show sinceratrons, in front of all the jutting man-tanned jaws and jutting saltwater bosoms, he made his small bow and said into the microphone, "All of us have special ones who have loved us into being. Would you just take, along with me, ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are .... Ten seconds of silence." And then he lifted his wrist, and looked at the audience, and looked at his watch, and said softly, "I'll watch the time," and there was, at first, a small whoop from the crowd, a giddy, strangled hiccup of laughter, as people realized that he wasn't kidding, that Mister Rogers was not some convenient eunuch but rather a man, an authority figure who actually expected them to do what he asked... and so they did. One second, two seconds, three seconds... and now the jaws clenched, and the bosoms heaved, and the mascara ran, and the tears fell upon the beglittered gathering like rain leaking down a crystal chandelier, and Mister Rogers finally looked up from his watch and said, "May God be with you" to all his vanquished children.

OK, in this case he got God in there but at least it wasn't on his TV show.

In my own struggle to get past recent grief it helps to think of Fred Rogers, and also of the people who were helped by him who had it much worse than I've ever had:

“This person said that when she was growing up, she lived in an exceedingly abusive household where she was raped and scared every day. And she said the only time that she felt that anybody really cared about her is when she was watching us,” Mr. Rogers said to Pinkston.

Predictably, Fred Rogers antithesis, Fred Phelps appeared at the memorial service for Rogers to proclaim that he was going to hell for not condeming homosexuality.

It's a bad break for Christianity that Rogers died in 2003 while Phelps is still here. Fred Rogers proved that not all Christians are bad.

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

Morrissey is so popular because he puts his finger on the never-ending angst of life on earth.

Watch a performance of "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now"

The lyrics:



I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I'm miserable now

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I'm miserable now


In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die ?


Two lovers entwined pass me by
And heaven knows I'm miserable now


I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I'm miserable now


In my life
Oh, why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die ?


What she asked of me at the end of the day
Caligula would have blushed


"You've been in the house too long" she said
And I (naturally) fled


In my life
Why do I smile
At people who I'd much rather kick in the eye ?


I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I'm miserable now


"You've been in the house too long" she said
And I (naturally) fled


In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die ?

Sideburns are hot

Sideburns are hot, while beards are not. And the reason is because sideburns say "I'm male, and I COULD grow a beard if I wanted to, but I have restraint. But still, I'm male."

Just a little bit of sideburns is necessary for this effect.

Beatles Internet Album

A very good web site devoted to the Beatles is The Beatles Internet Album. It has interviews, audio clips and fun facts, including this section about the creation of the Sgt. Pepper's album cover.

My daughter is the Queen of Libraries

She rehearsed her NYPL presentation with me last night and I learned so much and got a treasure-trove of researchy goodness on Marvin Harris

I have most of his books and quite a few magazine articles, but I want to have a complete collection, so I was thrilled to get the full text of an article Harris wrote on a critic of Margaret Mead called "Margaret and the Giant Killer."

The article starts out with a demonstration that very little has changed in the past 20 years in the relationship between the media and sociobiology - now generally called evolutionary psychology.

Edward O. Wilson's best-selling sociobiological thrillers have shown that there is no limit to the spasms scholarly books can stimulate in the press if they advance two propositions: one, social scientists are incompetent bleeding hearts who deny the existence of human nature; and two, hard-nosed, real scientists must assume control over the social sciences and reassert the importance of biological factors in human life. Harvard University Press, Wilson's publisher, has found that, by twitching certain nerves, nearly any book advocating neo-Darwinian forms of biological determinism can soar to bestsellerdom.

Once again, Paul Krugman is entirely right

The Bush administration, however, has spent the last seven years trying to do away with government oversight of the financial industry. In fact, the new plan was originally conceived of as “promoting a competitive financial services sector leading the world and supporting continued economic innovation.” That’s banker-speak for getting rid of regulations that annoy big financial operators.

To reverse course now, and seek expanded regulation, the administration would have to back down on its free-market ideology — and it would also have to face up to the fact that it was wrong. And this administration never, ever, admits that it made a mistake.

more of "The Dilbert Strategy" at NYTimes

Echidne hits the big time

She's guest blogging in The Nation

Echidne on her home turf

Marsha Norman makes an excellent point

So how can critics serve their readers - and the theater - better? They need to accept their responsibility to report how the audience responded. And not in a dismissive way, but in a way that reflects the standards of ordinary journalism. I’d like to see sentences like “On the night I was there hating it, the other 1,600 people were cheering in the aisles. Go figure.” Or “On the night I loved it, half of the audience was asleep. Check it out.” If the critics are writing for the audience, then the reader needs to know what else was going on besides what was in the critic’s mind.

More in the NYTimes

Random lessons learned from off-off Broadway

Clearly I am bitter about my recent off-off Broadway production experience. Will I ever do more theater again - hell yeah! Even though there's at best, little money to be made in it. And my finances were hammered this time around. It's going to take me months to recover. But what else yah gonna do in this existentially meaningless reality on the way to eternal oblivion?

And as Megan McArdle will tell you (see previous post), Thomas Edison had to go through lots of wrong versions of the light bulb before he got it right. He learned from his mistakes. So will I.

So let us review a few random mistakes. This is not a comprehensive list by any means.

1. Trying to be friends with actors. You have to remember they're your employees. Too many actors will lose respect for you if you get too chummy. And just because someone is a good actor does not make them a good person. You're just asking to have your heart broken if you forget that.

2. Casting friends of cast members. This pretty much never works out - they tend to form little cliques and either gang up on actors who they don't like for whatever reason, or gang up against the stage crew. Or the producer. They will probably form cliques anyway, but you don't want to expedite the process.

3. Neglecting to build a core of backstage people. Casting is the most important aspect of a show, but a solid core of backstage people is the second most important. You have to make sure you have a good solid team even before rehearsals. They have to be good communicators, they have to be able to think on their feet, and they can't get huffy or surly if the actors don't treat them with respect. They have to know how to push back.

4. Not learning to say "no." I let an actor talk me into buying a smoke machine for one scene. It was a pain in the ass, and it couldn't really be used properly under the conditions we had - almost nobody saw the smoke. And did the actor feel bad about making me spend the money and making me deal with the hassle of trying to get it to work right and making sure that Equity was OK with it? Not in the least - he was too busy making lists of mistakes made by me and the stage crew.

5. Paying for things with credit cards. Don't do it. But this is a good rule for life in general.