I Buy My Coffee and I Go

I hate rap music. It's true. I hate it with such a passion that I often get into boisterous arguments with others about its worthlessness.

But the score of In the Heights is brilliant. Composer and lyricist Lin-Manuel Miranda weaves together slick lyrics with a soul-stirring mix of rap, latino music, and Broadway brass that defies you to stay still. If, at the very least, your head isn't bobbing within the first thirty seconds of the title song, you have severe issues. Add to that the effortless clarity and power of Karen Olivo's voice and Miranda's justified star turn, not to mention the spunk of Robin de Jesus, the intensity of Olga Merediz, and Christopher Jackson's infectious exuberance, plus literally everyone else in the cast, and you get a the joyful, moving score now available from Sh-K-Boom Records.

Highlights include the sick opening number "In the Heights," the beautiful ballads "Breathe" and "When the Sun Goes Down," the Act I closer "Blackout," and Mandy Gonzalez's explosive duet with Jackson "When You're Home." But two songs are particularly remarkable. The first is "96,000," a company number where everyone in the Heights fantasizes about what they would do if they won the lottery. Miranda plays with dynamics and actually throws rap, latino music, and Broadway brass into a mind-blowing counterpoint. And the second is the "Finale" which climaxes as only a finale can into a joyous, tear-filled moment where the company sings, all at once, a smattering of nearly all the songs from the previous hour of music. And it's TWO discs.

Essentially, it leaves me with that same pain in my gut that shows like Gypsy do. Only happier. And that was just hearing the music. I can't even imagine what I'll be like after I actually see it next month.

The Rape of the Book, or Prince Caspian: The Movie

I walked out. I had never in my life walked out of any sort of anything until I saw Andrew Adamson's abomination of desecration: The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian. It actually makes me want to throw up to see Adamson has signed C. S. Lewis's name to his own kindergarten scribbles.

Save your money and read the book again.

Iron Man

Good movie. Of course, I say that as a fan of comic book movies, mostly for nostalgic reasons. It's one of those feel good movies that keeps you interested and lovin' it the whole time. There were people in the theatre, including myself, just exclaiming things left and right. Not to mention Gwenyth Paltrow wears these really amazing heels during the climactic scene at the end . . . and she runs in them. It's quite remarkable.

Go see it. You won't be wasting your money, I promise.

Swing Your Razor Wide

    Check out my review of Tim Burton's new Sweeney Todd film at Patrol Magazine, here.  Oh, and, not to gloat or anything, but I'd like to say that I called it right way back in June of 2006.

All You Have to Do is Listen

    There have only been two times in my life where a movie or theatrical performance has been so amazing that I’ve been forced to sit in my seat for some time after it's ended, too emotionally drained to move. The first time was at the City Center’s Encores! presentation of Gypsy last summer. The second happened last night when I saw August Rush. It’s not that either of these stories have any particular thing in common, except that they ring remarkably true and are so beautifully executed that they leave the viewer wholly satisfied and thoroughly exhausted.

    August Rush is a story of a boy who wants to be found – a boy who understands that the universe doesn’t operate around red tape or on the mere “laws” of nature and logic. This young orphan boy knows that beyond our pretense of human control, something else holds the universe together. He understands that God draws straight with crooked lines. The odds are morally, logically, and common sensically against him. Who finds his lost parents through music? Lost parents who don’t even know he exists? No one. But August goes on believing. It’s this faith that brings him through. And it’s the same faith – lost and regained – that brings his parents to him.

    August Rush won’t surprise you with plot twists or special effects or trips to magical lands. What it will do is cause you to look for the story in your life and the music that constantly swirls around you. It will show you that there is enough magic in this world that inhabitants from other so-called magical lands should be beating down the door to get into ours.

Curtain Up! Light the Lights!

    I’ve been trying for two days now to collect my thoughts and write something intelligent about the brilliance I saw at the City Center last week. Unfortunately for you, that particular production of Gypsy reduces me to a spazzing, sobbing mess of a theatre freak. I figure since the show has closed, a glowing review won’t do any good anyway, so this will have to do:

    The City Center’s Encores! production of Gypsy was the single greatest theatrical experience of my short life. As a result of its perfection, I will never again be able to see this show. The lack of Laura Benanti, Patti Lupone, Boyd Gaines and, really, the entire cast (down to each cute little newsboy) would cause me to walk out of the theatre in a completely irrational state of disgust. To put it simply, this production will never be matched, let alone surpassed, so I’ll leave it in my memory to pull out on a rainy day.

I Don't Do Foulness

    You might be wondering why I haven’t followed the theatre world at large in writing a gushing recommendation of Spring Awakening. After all, it did garner 11 Tony nominations (that’s every eligible category but two) and 4 Drama Desk Awards, including Outstanding Musical. That’s gotta be good for something, right? Well, that depends on who you ask.

    New York Times theatre critic Charles Isherwood will give you some drivel about adolescent sexual discovery, other critics will drone on about raw teen angst, and message board theatre queens will overwhelm you with effusions about how there’s “finally” a show that “really gets” them. That is, as you may recall, the same thing they said about Hair and RENT in their heydays. And like RENT, Spring Awakening does have some truly catchy songs. “Mama Who Bore Me” captures an insistence and a certain measure of angst that few composers have been able to, including the marvelous dissonances in its reprise. Unfortunately, the lyrics fail to tell us what the characters are insistent about or where their angst is coming from. Oops.

    The other notable song is the regrettably lyriked “The Bitch of Living.” It’s one of the catchiest tunes I’ve heard on Broadway this season, but it falls into the trap of assuming foul language and artistic genius are synonymous.

    It’s this overall foulness that prevents me from recommending it. The taglines alone are enough to warn discerning theatergoers. “A barrier-breaking fusion of morality, sexuality, and rock & roll.” “A story of uncontrollable emotions and undeniable passion, of first love and lasting regrets.” There’s not much redeemable in a story about “sexually repressed” 14-year-olds who get into all sorts of trouble because of their ignorance, including having the sex they’ve been repressing (you get to see it, too!), masturbation (live, and on stage!), pregnancy, botched abortion, and suicide.

    Overall, Spring Awakening is so antithetical to truth, goodness, and beauty that it has become the best argument for theatrical reformation. If you want to see truly great theatre, save yourself the airfare and catch the tour of The Light in the Piazza.

N.D. Wilson's Leepike Ridge

    Read this book.



    Even if you're not a kid, you'll thoroughly enjoy it.

Shepherding Boredom

    The Good Shepherd is a really long movie.  For a film about the genesis of the CIA, it has about as much intrigue as a small town farmer's convention.  I was was so bored, I actually shut it off halfway through.  I'll never know what the payoff is (if there is one), but I'm certainly not fretting over it.

Wanted: One Dramaturg

    I just saw The Jacket this afternoon and I think I’d give it three stars out of seven.  It was an enjoyable movie, but the writer and director could have done several things to make it much better and more coherent.
    Personally, if a movie wants me to suspend my disbelief in time travel, I’ll do it without hesitation – just because it’s a cool idea – as long as it’s presented well.  What I liked about The Jacket’s presentation of time travel is that, even though Jack repeatedly traveled to the future, the future didn’t change based on his actions in the present.  And I was really excited about it . . . until the end when they decided to abandon the idea and it all came crashing down.
    Unfortunately, in order for the proper ending to replace the current one, the love story would have had to be real as opposed to a box on the checklist of scriptwriting.  Aside from the ridiculous and completely avoidable similarity in their names, I love the idea that Jack helps little Jackie and her mother in 1993 and then falls in love with Jackie in 2007.  What I don’t love is the way their relationship came about.  One minute she’s merely helping him track down information on his death at Alpine Grove, the next minute he’s leading her through the asylum by the hand as if he’s held her hand ten thousand times before, and the very next he pulls her to him John Wayne style and they have themselves a romp.  Had the writer, director, and/or actors taken care to build the attraction and desire by small glances, gestures, or a careful word from time to time, the John Wayne moment would have won me over and the sex scene would have been far less unecessary than it was.  As it is, my reaction was, “Where did that come from?”
    Had they built the relationship the way they should have, they could have used the appropriate ending where, instead of Jack returning to a changed future, he could return to the same future with the unfortunately named Jackie waiting for him.  As it is, the ending makes zero sense in the context of the film and left me rather dissatisfied.
    All things considered, The Jacket is a decent thriller, though lacking a focus and purposeful direction.  If you have time to kill, I suggest watching it, if only for Adrien Brody’s faultless performance.

Remember, remember the fifth of November . . .

    If the lives of your compatriots were threatened by some outside force, would you give up some of your rights to feel safe?  Or do you agree with Benjamin Franklin that, “They who would give up an essential liberty for temporary security, deserve neither liberty nor security”?  This is the world the British, as a result of their fear, have resigned themselves to in V for Vendetta.  And in a complacent dystopia ruled by fascists, the only way to start a revolution is to incite chaos.
    Vendetta is one of the most brilliant movies I’ve seen in a long time.  It’s a no holds barred action flick -- full of explosions and blood -- that actually forces it’s viewers to think.  After a masked man (known only as “V”) rescues Evey Hammond (our leading lady) from a group of would-be-rapist police officers, Evey is swept up in V’s world of vigilantist vengeance, which she is initially reluctant to take part in.  V models his actions after those of the infamous Guy Fawkes and, in classic comic book style, wears a Guy Fawkes mask through the entire movie to hide his disfigured face.  V, like Fawkes, aims to blow up parliament in an act of defiance and as an attempt to incite a once complacent people to revolution and self-government.  The meeting of two opposite people, like V and Evey, presents occasions for learning and discovery – for one, principle, and for the other, love.
    If Star Wars has been your only test of Natalie Portman’s skill, you have been greatly deceived.  Portman’s grip on Evey Hammond is so solid that after they initial, “Hey, that’s Natalie Portman,” you won’t think of her again.  Evey has a difficult and substantial character arc, but Portman handles it with consummate skill.  She takes Evey from a young woman deathly afraid of admitting she has principles -- let alone the ability to act on them -- to a woman who, having been broken in everyway possible, becomes V’s fearless ally.  It is both a testament to Portman’s skill and the excellence of the writing that this transformation doesn’t seem unnatural.
    The real star of this film, of course, is Hugo Weaving as the mysterious V, who never comes out from behind his Guy Fawkes mask.  The fact that we never see his face doesn’t at all take away from Weaving’s performance.  Somehow he conveys everything he needs to with body language and his mellifluous and resonating voice.  His body language somehow never seems forced, but it flows with the intent of the words, much like one’s face does.  With a slight cock of his head, you just know V is raising his eyebrow.  And with his voice, Weaving can make the mask seem at times terrifying, sometimes jocular, and other times pitiful.  A truly masterful performance.
    The supporting cast is likewise flawless.  John Hurt’s Chancellor Sutler is an insidiously terrifying character.  Stephen Rae brings depth to Inspector Finch where other, less careful actors might be tempted to make him into a cardboard cutout.  All the villains, all the good guys, and all those astonished citizens make this movie more than just an action flick.
    Vendetta’s script itself is a well-crafted and gripping piece of work, but a movie is far more than a script and a more-than-capable cast and crew bring it to life in a marvelous fashion.  The art directors bring us some striking visuals with a color palette that really fits the mood of the piece.  From the black of V’s wardrobe and the Scarlet Carsons he leaves on his victims to the emblem on Britain’s new flag, to the blood slinging from the necks of V’s victims, black and red dominate.  But metallics and earth tones also play their role, contrasting the dystopian order of the fascist government and the stone underground of V’s lair, with its collection of wrongfully-censored art.  The soft colors of V’s world make it easier for the mind to sympathize with the borderline terrorist, especially when compared to the glaring and harsh world of the government.
    The film is teaming with the intersecting themes of coincidence and truth, justice and vengeance, complacency and corruption.  Is there really such a thing as coincidence, or is it just the illusion of coincidence?  If it’s just the illusion of coincidence, then is some greater power trying to tell us something through this illusion?  Are those who think they see the point of the illusion, like V, justified in using methods commonly associated with terrorism to get others to understand the truth?  Or is this merely vengeance?  Did the British government justly reap this vigilante harvest by sowing the seeds of terror and corruption?  What about the complacent people?  If V punished the British government for their actions, was not the government a punishment for the people’s complacency?  Is our own America complacent?  Could the republic we (used to) take pride in turn out this way?  Do we even care anymore?
    I have only two reservations about this film: its blatant attempt at over-sympathizing homosexuality and its failed attempt at convincing me the fascists are extreme right-wingers.  Instead of the excessive mentioning of the plight of homosexuals under this government, the celluloid could have been used to better effect showing the plight of Muslims, Jews, non-Caucasians, non-British folks, or any of the other oppressed groups in order to show the sweeping arrogance and elitism of the government.  Additionally, trying to convince viewers that a fascist government is the inevitable result of a right-wing takeover is so completely illogical that not even Hollywood could pull it off.  So many of the choices made by those in power are choices that necessarily follow the nihilism dominant in left-wing circles and could never be logically made by a conservative.  But don’t let those minor annoyances stop you from seeing Vendetta.
    Near the beginning of the film, Evey, quoting her father, makes a mournfully true statement, “Artists use lies to tell the truth while politicians use them to cover the truth up.”  Some of the lies artists tell are badly told, weather visually or on the written page, but this is not the case in V for Vendetta.  This is an excellent movie, not to be missed.

More End of the Spear

    Well, I was going to write up my fully-formed opinion on the End of the Spear controversy this afternoon, but it seems this person already did it for me.

Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd . . .

    Sweeney Todd -- a musical filled with rampant vengeance, murder, and cannibalism.  Why, then, do I love it so much?  I often call it one of my favorite musicals and people will say, "Eww.  How can you like a musical about people eating people?"
    Perhaps because Sweeney Todd isn't about that at all.
    At it's core, Sweeney Todd is a marvelously worked tragedy.  The fact that Mrs. Lovett bakes Sweeney's victims into pies and sells them to the unsuspecting London population is simply a bit of disgusting humor so the audience members don't feel like slitting their wrists during or after the show.  Shakespeare did it with sexual humor (Macbeth's porter scene) and witty humor (Hamlet's gravedigger scene), so why can't Sondheim do it with disgusting humor?
    The fact remains that Sweeney Todd is a tragedy in the classic sense.  We have our hero (or anti-hero, if you like), Sweeney Todd, who has a tragic flaw: an insatiable desire for vengeance. Sweeney was a good man (perhaps still is), but he was terribly wronged.  A depraved judge sent him off to Australia on a trumped up charge just so he could have Sweeney's wife.  When Sweeney returns, he understandably seeks revenge on the judge and, by extension, London: the city that has given up on justice.  So he exacts his revenge by once again taking up his barber's razor and sending Londoners to their maker "impeccably shaved".  Because carrying a dead body away in the middle of the night could be tricky, Sweeney's partner in crime, Mrs. Lovett, suggests, "what with times so hard as these," they should use the bodies for her meat pies.  And thus begins Sweeney's downfall.  Eventually everything unravels in the most perfect way and justice is served to all, including Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett.
    Perhaps the most interesting thing about Sweeney Todd is that the viewer finds himself sympathizing with the title character, while, at the same time, finding Sweeney's actions thoroughly revolting (why many call him an anti-hero.)  But what man wouldn't be infuriated by an unjust imprisonment, the rape of his wife, her subsequent death, and the adoption of his daughter by the very man who caused such sorrow?  As a fellow human, the viewer wants justice just as much as Sweeney does, but in classic tragic fashion, Sweeney takes it too far.
    Sweeney's range of emotion in this tale is sweeping.  One moment he's angry at the injustice in London, the next he's mourning for his wife, then rejoicing over his long-lost razors and dreaming of what he can do with them, then poking fun at a phony barber, and again scaring the pants off of you with his oaths of vengeance.  By the end of the show (for some reasons I cannot tell for fear of spoiling it for those of you who haven't see it) you truly feel sad about his demise.  Justice is certainly served, but you can't help wishing he did things differently.
    Give it a chance.  It will be worth your while.

The Wonders of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

    It was like being five again.  Lucy wandered into Lantern Waste and her eyes expressed the wonder I felt upon first reading that moment in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  Simply put, the movie was wondrous.  I felt transported.  It was the most entertaining film I've seen all year and that's not an exaggeration.  At the end of the film, I accidentally started a round of applause when I clasped my hands together with pure, unadulterated joy and I'm not sorry I did.  Nearly everyone was wide-eyed with delight when they left the theater and more than one young man I know had the urge to engage in a bit of sword play.

    Though I enjoyed it immensely, there were some things that the adaptation changed or left out that I felt distracted from the original intent of the story.  For one, Edmund is far too sympathetic before his repentance.  Lewis makes it clear that Edmund is as selfish as they come, deceitful and filled spite.  The movie makes him a sort of unwillingly selfish character, forced to be so because of Peter's superiority complex. This makes him too sympathetic from the beginning, makes Peter less noble, and, most importantly trivializes Aslan's sacrifice.
    While we're on the topic of Aslan, he should have been bigger.  Aslan needs to inspire awe from the first moment you look at him.  Not just a "Whoa, that's a lion!" awe, but a fall-down-on-your-knees-with-reverence awe.  And, while the scene at the Stone Table was certainly powerful, it would have been more so had the writers kept intact what Lewis thought to be so important that he repeated it at least five times: Aslan's complete submission to the White Witch.  Lewis repeatedly wrote how Aslan could have easily killed everyone present, but remained silent and did not resist.  In the movie, there was some shying from the ropes and lifting of the lip as if to bite or growl.  Aslan's submission is one of the most important parts of the story.  He was so committed to sacrificing himself for Edmund -- and, indeed, all of Narnia -- that he didn't even give a hint of resistance.  His not-so-submission made him too normal and less worthy of awe.
    But I fear Peter got the worst of it when he was adapted for the film.  Somehow he became the token unwilling hero who becomes the great king in the end.  I understand the writers were trying to give his character a greater arc, but it there was nothing smooth about it.  Peter got stuck in the unwilling rut for WAY too long.  He was so unwilling, he didn't treat Aslan with respect and even seemed whiny at times and preoccupied with sending his brother and sisters home, even though he knew they were to be king and queens of Narnia with him.  Then, all of a sudden (about the time the Witch mortally wounded Edmund) he became the great hero, fighting for his Narnia.
    This brings me to one of the most irritating parts of the film.  During the battle, when it seems clear that Aslan's forces are going to be defeated, Peter tells Edmund to take the girls and go home (something that never happened in the book).  Edmund starts to obey his brother, the High King of Narnia, but when he sees the White Witch turning his comrades to stone right and left, he decides to go after her.  The beaver reminds him of Peter's command and Edmund responds with, "He's not king yet."  This is the most warped view of the book in the entire movie.  If the writers had just left Peter's newfound army-of-one attitude out of the film, this (among other things) would have never been an issue.  In the book, Peter calls Edmund a hero.  In the thick of the battle (in which they were BOTH fighting) Edmund saw how the Witch was turning their army to stone with her wand and he took it upon himself to break the wand, nearly getting himself killed in the process, but turning the tide of the battle.  Peter rightly calls him a hero for it.  There's nothing heroic about his insubordinate actions in the film. They only serve to show how his character never really changed, which is very annoying and nearly ruins the story.

    But, like I said, the story is pretty much intact and the movie is so captivating that the little annoyances don't really matter.  I highly recommend this film to anyone, but especially those who have read the book.  (I actually went with one person who did not read the book and, after the movie, she told us that she was a little confused, but she enjoyed it very much.)
    Go see it.

Pride & Prejudice

    The newest adaptation of Jane Austen's brilliant and celebrated novel, Pride & Prejudice, while not the fleshed-out, gorgeous perfection of A&E version, is too beautiful not to see. I'd write a review, but I don't think it requires one. Just see it.

Nobility in Elizabethtown

“ . . . the idea of nobility is inseparable from the idea of tragedy, which cannot exist without it. If tragedy is not the imitation or even the modified representation of noble actions it is certainly a representation of actions considered as noble, and herein lies its essential nature, since no man can conceive it unless he is capable of believing in the greatness and importance of man . . . We no longer tell tales of the fall of noble men because we do not believe that noble men exist. The best that we can achieve is pathos and the most that we can do is to feel sorry for ourselves. . . . But a Tragedy, Divine or otherwise, must, it may again be repeated, have a hero, and from the universe as we see it both the Glory of God and the Glory of Man have departed.”
~ Joseph Wood Krutch, The Modern Temper, “The Tragic Fallacy”

    Elizabethtown, while not a tragedy, brings back this long-forgotten idea of noble man. The idea that men aren’t just some lowly creatures and equal to all other animals, but a higher order, created in the image of the Almighty God and therefore inherently noble. Yes, men tend to shun this nobility, but it is in all of us and it is this inherent nobility, rejected and found again, that Cameron Crowe weaves throughout his film.
    We begin with Drew Baylor (Orlando Bloom), a young, fast-climbing shoe designer obsessed, like the rest of America, with success. When his apparent success spirals down first to failure and then fiasco, he becomes lost. He had cast nobility aside to pursue success and failed. Without the nobility he rejected and the success he strove for, Drew has nothing, so he decides to kill himself. But then his sister calls with news of their father’s death and he has to put off his suicide until he can tie up the loose ends.
    What follows is the gradual awakening of nobility in Drew. In flight attendant Claire, Drew finds something he never knew could be so wonderful: the nobility he has rejected. Claire – with the aid of many intriguing characters – helps Drew understand that his life is meaningful . . . important even.
    The film doesn’t tell us what it is that makes Drew’s life meaningful or important, but that’s its beauty. A film that can come to one conclusion and one conclusion only, is not a good film.
    This is a good film. It’s not a film you go to in order to sit idly back in your seat as your brain mindlessly soaks up the words. You have to engage with this film. You have to work to understand the characters and why they say things. What those looks mean. But enjoy yourself. It is a movie, after all.