Inked.

After two years of mulling and procrastinating about the idea of body art, I finally succumbed to the temptation. A facsimile of Milton Glaser's logo for Tony Kushner's epic Angels in America, this icon represents a lot of things; first and foremost, my adoration of the play, and the unbelievable amount of inspiration it has given to me. An event and work which garnered numerous praise and accolades, including the 1993 Pulitzer Prize for Drama, and two consecutive Tony Awards, I am inclined to believe that it is truly one of the most important works of the 20th Century. Aside from that, this tattoo represents my interest in literature, drama and cinema (it was made into an impressive television miniseries in 2004), my homosexuality, my insanity and my political nature. 

In and of the image itself, several meanings are present; for one, the letter "A" obviously has great significance to me, and it also represents a beginning, the "alpha" as it were. The logo is described as "an elegant synthesis of the mechanical and organic" and this dichotomy is something I live with every day; this Apollonian/Dionysian philosophy is one that drives us all.  

After having popped my inky cherry, and in a sense triumphing over symbolizing my entire life concept, I wonder if I will get another...

Pics of the actual tattoo will come soon, when my skin is not bright cherry red.

This Movie Will Make You Want to Impale Yourself on a Picket Fence

I've been mulling around this review for a while (re: a week) and finally decided that Joe Neumaier of the New York Daily News summed it up exactly as I would have:

"...[the film] comes close but falls short of capturing Richard Yates' terrific novel... the movie — two-thirds Mad Men, one-third American Beauty, with a John Cheever chaser — works best when focusing on the personal. Thankfully, it's there that Mendes and screenwriter Justin Haythe catch some of Yates' weighty ideas, and where Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet succeed in doing the heavy lifting... DiCaprio, round-shouldered and sleepy-eyed, and Winslet, watchful and alert, raise up each other and everything around them. Never once shadowed by Titanic, they suggest, often wordlessly, the box the Wheelers have found themselves in. Whereas the novel is told mostly from Frank's viewpoint, the movie is just as much April's, and Winslet, whether fighting back or fighting back tears, is sensational."

It's like American Beauty on downers, basically, with lots of 50's flair. I enjoyed it, but it is hardly revolutionary (pun intended) for Mendes. 

Why So Serious?

This past summer I, like millions of other hopeless sheep, paid $9.50 to see The Dark Knight. I never bothered to review it (did I? no, I didn't) because it wasn't worth it. It was okay. Nothing spectacular, despite what everyone has been saying (and the horrible buzz of getting a Best Picture nom; bitch, please). Anyway, I felt today, the anniversary of Heath Ledger's tragic passing, was the time for me to address an issue: the pity praise. Now I know I'm a cynical little bitch, but I want everyone to be honest with themselves: if Heath hadn't died, would we all think the movie, and in particular his acting, would have been praised so heavily? Would it have been such a box-office smash? Perhaps, but I'm inclined to believe what I believe, namely that because of the horrifying events we the people are elevating the movie to a level it never reached on screen.

I say this because Heath was nominated, quite expectedly, for an Oscar this morning. Now. Not to intentionally criticize his performance, but there is little precedent to have an actor from a comic book movie be nominated for such an award. I can't remember any actor within the past 20 years who starred in a comic book-based movie be nominated for an Oscar. But, there's a first time for everything, right? I suppose. But let's just call a spade a spade: it's a little too coincidental that no role like this was ever recognized before by the Academy, and all of the sudden they found one to be worthy of a nomination just when said actor happened to die. 

Personally, I find it a tad insulting to almost all parties involved, and I'm pained to remember other posthumous  awards, such as the Tony and Pulitzer to Jonathan Larson for Rent, and posthumous nominations, like James Dean for East of Eden. Look. Everyone should realize that, whether by right or not, these accolades have some level of pity within them, and even if the greatest actor or writer or whatever does the best job, if he dies, that's always a fact you can't ignore. What's worse, people will probably get insulted if you don't award them and deem it "insensitive". Remember when everyone stood at the Golden Globes for Heath? What if it had gone to Ralph Fiennes? Would anyone stand for that? No. They'd be cursing under their breaths that Heath didn't win. It's ridiculous.

Is it a big deal? No, maybe not. But awards should be given to those who did the best job, and sometimes, it's hard to decide that with such extenuating circumstances. The solution? Special awards. They should just do it. That way, the dead can be honored for their performance without the academy feeling obligated to give it to the dead guy.

RIP Heath Ledger.

Oh, and THIS doesn't help anyone's case.

Gobama!

Well, during his inauguration I was losing some faith, wishing that Hillary was given the nomination, but after today I feel much more confident in Barack Obama. He's vowed to close Guantanamo Bay within the year, and has also wants to increase renewable energy sources within the next three years. For his first day, that's an exceptional start. We'll see how the rest of his first 100 days goes, but so far, it would appear he's doing his best and, most importantly, keeping his campaign promises. I'm also happy to see he's addressing the most pressing issues first.

Oh, and Michelle's dress at the Inaugural Ball was ugly. Yes, she brought a young designer into the public light (and the Smithsonian) but she did a disservice to everyone. That superfluous  strap looked too small against her broad shoulders, the color was blah, and the detailing was overly whimsical and fussy. She needed a richer color like a plum or burgundy, or a jewel tone, and something in a satin or taffeta. There's been so much emphasis on her "style" but that's bullshit; they're only saying that, and making comparisons to Jackie O, because she's the first first wife in a while who wasn't menopausal and in dire need of a pantsuit. Girl needs to step it up if she really wants to compare to America's Queen.

All in Your Hedda.

The role of Hedda Tesman has been invariably compared to that of Hamlet (the female version, as it were), a collation that comments on the challenging nature of the part. Kate Burton, Annette Bening, and Maggie Smith have been just a few of the notables who’ve fired from Hedda’s pistols. Now it’s Ms. Parker’s turn.

In the Roundabout Theatre Company’s revival this season, Mary-Louise Parker assumes the Dionysian persona of the oppressed woman in an ostensibly “modernized” version of Ibsen’s work. Why exactly it’s modern is a fact that has evaded me, but perhaps the gritty new translation appeals more to the contemporary audience that values instant gratification amongst all else. In spite of the initial skepticism of the revival, once I discovered Ms. Parker, who lights up my television screen in her series “Weeds”, was playing the trigger-happy damsel, I leapt for joy. I believed that she would bring to the role the combination of cynicism and grace she’s known for; a perfect match for Hedda. I couldn’t wait to hear her utter the beautiful lines “…then Ejlert Løvborg will come…with vine-leaves in his hair.” Instead, though, at the end of the second act I hear “Ejlert Løvborg will be mine again!”

Did I hear right? “Ejlert Løvborg will be mine again”? Did Ibsen ever write for “The Guiding Light”? I should certainly expect not. Christopher Shinn’s translation leaves a lot to be desired; it’s understandable for a work as old as “Hedda” to undergo revisions that would render it a little more comprehensive to a modern audience, but stripping it of any depth or interpretation is downright insulting. This is a high school production of “Hedda Gabler”, from the tacky translation to the deflated acting. I can’t bring myself to blame Ms. Parker at any cost, though; all the while as she delivers her lines with no zeal, I had to believe she was coerced into the odd speech by the play’s director, Ian Rickson. She’s too good. Unfortunately by the time the fourth act crept along, I could not wait for it to end. Without spoiling anything, the end of this Hedda was quite welcome.

I suppose we must commend them for taking a risk. Revivals can be dry recreations and it is usually those who deviate from the original production that succeed the most. Ian von Hove’s “Hedda” at the New York Theater Workshop, rife with a Joni Mitchell soundtrack and tomato soup deluges, was a shockingly incredible interpretation. This production, however, didn’t go far enough. At least I can tell it was not the fault of the resources available; the quality of a play can be (perhaps unfairly) judged against its production values, and the design at least was appealing. Hildegard Bechtler’s set was austere and imposing, and while bordering bland, did some justice to the Tesman’s villa. Ann Roth’s costumes were rich and gorgeous, especially on Ms. Parker’s nipped-in waist and milk-white skin.

Special consideration can be given to the original music composed by PJ Harvey. Ms. Parker’s fluid, wraith-like movements in conjunction with the eerie, pulsating score told more of a story than any of the dialogue did, and illustrated the turmoil in Hedda’s mind more successfully than the regimented scenes of discussion. The parts devoid of speech were better than when anyone began to talk, either to seep mousy lines from their mouths (Michael Cerveris as Jorgen) or confuse us by speaking in a Southern droll (Peter Stormare as Judge Brack).

Perhaps it would have been successful if this were a pantomimed production of “Hedda Gabler”. Seriously, though; think of Mabou Mines’ unconventional production of “A Doll’s House” (simply titled “Dollhouse”) where people under 5’ were cast in all the male roles and the females by Amazonian women. It was humorous (intentionally so), but it was not without thought. Maybe to highlight the strength of this production through a play with no dialogue, while not an ideal representation of the classic, would have been interesting. Or at least tolerable.

Otherwise, we’re left with a bland reiteration of an oft-revived play. And, if its ubiquity was not enough, it has been watered-down to such a degree that the subtle words Ibsen crafted do not even challenge us. Not a thought can enter our heads, other than the perplexity surrounding Ms. Parker’s misuse. It’s just a shame that a gifted actress was wasted in such mediocrity; people don’t do such things!

HEDDA GABLER
By Henrik Ibsen, new adaptation by Christopher Shinn from a literal translation by Anne-Charlotte Harvey; directed by Ian Rickson; set by Hildegard Bechtler; costumes by Ann Roth; lighting by Natasha Katz; sound by John Gromada; original music by P J Harvey; makeup and hair design by Ivana Primorac; wig design by Peter Owens; production stage manager, James FitzSimmons; general manager, Rebecca Habel; technical supervisor, Steve Beers; associate artistic director, Scott Ellis. Presented by the Roundabout Theater Company, Todd Haimes, artistic director; Harold Wolpert, managing director; Julia C. Levy, executive director. At the American Airlines Theater, 227 West 42nd Street, Manhattan, (212) 719-1300. Through March 29. Running time: 2 hours 15 minutes.
WITH: Mary-Louise Parker (Mrs. Hedda Tesman), Michael Cerveris (Jorgen Tesman), Paul Sparks (Ejlert Lovborg), Peter Stormare (Judge Brack), Lois Markle (Berte), Ana Reeder (Mrs. Thea Elvsted) and Helen Carey (Miss Juliane Tesman).

Herald Square Hilarity

All Buses are Created Equal

The Times (New York, not London) has written a piece on an Atheist ad campaign to run on the sides of buses on the streets of England. Headed by great thinker and Bestselling author Richard Dawkins, it was conceived after a woman noticed religious ads on the sides of buses, and created as a counterpoint to said delusional propaganda. 

While I am biased towards the notion, I do believe that everything deserves equal attention, and if there are going to be Biblical quotes driving around, there may as well be ideas to the contrary presented. Cheers, Londoners! I can't wait for the streets of Manhattan to be riddled with similar advertisements. 

More Here.

"My name is Harvey Milk, and I'm here to recruit you!"

In 1978, Proposition 6 would ban gays and lesbians from working in California's public schools. In 2008, Proposition 8 overturned laws granting equal marriage rights to all people in the state of California. We have taken two steps forward and ten steps backward. We have made progress, and we have regressed. But what are we to do? Gus van Sant's striking portrayal of the late, great Supervisor Harvey Milk, the first openly gay politician elected into official office in this country, reminds us the one thing we need to fight: grit.

Through his incomparable vision, Gus van Sant has portrayed Milk in an honest, searing spotlight that chronicles the era in which he fought for our rights. There is little more to say about the film itself because, honestly, it doesn't read as a film at all; it is a living, breathing entity showcasing the struggle we all face everyday with everyone. It is a memorial to all those who have died for what they are or what they believe in, and a testament to how guts and guile are all it takes to fight for your rights.   

It is our time as people to speak up; we are almost ten years into the new millennium, ten years into the dawning of a new age, and yet we still cling to what is safe, and what is comfort, and not to what is right. In 1978 Harvey Milk was assassinated after having served only ten months in office, yet he will remain an icon for all those, gay or straight, who believe in peace, love and justice. We should, we must, follow in his footsteps each day to create a society which truly is a society; a place where we can all be free from hate and prejudice and fear. It will happen one day, but it is our duty to make that day not next year, not next month, and not next week, but tomorrow.