Ranting Details

Celebrate Good Times

After I finished my Movmnt articles this afternoon, my friend Angelina (from the fantastic "TV In the Woods") asked me what I was going to do to celebrate.  "You have to have something!  Every writer has their special their celebratory event," she informed me.  "Mine is a fantastic whiskey.  But I don't think that would fit too well with your sickness." 

She was certainly right, whiskey would be about as agreeable as detergent at the moment, and she was also right that I need to figure out a celebratory tradition.  While nothing has come to me yet, I've decided that spending the day talking to her was celebratory enough.

A few years ago, Angelina and I met on a rooftop in Harlem.  It was New Year's Eve, and hardly anything from the evening is very clear to me.  We hit it off immediately, but her living on the West Coast made our budding friendship difficult to develop.  Then about a year ago we found each other through the blogging universe.  We've seen each other a few times since (she is a close friend of a friend) and have had a little email correspondence.  Today we had our first IM conversation; it's a slow courtship.  No matter how slow, we discovered something alarming during our afternoon escapades. 

When recalling our childhoods we stumbled onto the fact that we both know this jazz teaching duo from California, Dennon and Sayhber.  Some of my very first memories of dance are watching them teach my mother's jazz class in California.  Relive the amazing discovery through this (highly and hilariously) edited version of our afternoon. 

Matt: i love me some dolly.  crazy delicious. 
Beckylooo: I saw her in a coffee shop in Idyllwild (where I went to boarding school)
Matt: ahhh Carson went to idyllwild
Beckylooo: really!?
Beckylooo: how has this never come up!?
Matt: yeah for a few summers i think
Beckylooo: when? for what? dance?
Matt: i was super young
Matt: but i think we had friends that taught there maybe?
Matt: dennon and saber
Beckylooo: OH SHIT!
Beckylooo: NO WAY!
Matt: my god the most 90's jazz dancer names EVER
Beckylooo: HILARITY ENSUES
Matt: do you know them?!
Beckylooo: of COURSE!
Matt: haha amazing
Beckylooo: I used to teach theater up there
Matt: my mom danced in their jazz company
Beckylooo: NO WAY
Matt: yeah
Beckylooo: this is so fun!
Matt: i know!
Matt: i fucking love it
Matt: high cut leotards straight out of a paula abdul video
Beckylooo: YES
Matt: i just remember sabers huge black hair
Matt: and i mean come on. her name is fucking SABER
Beckylooo: it was short and bob like when I knew her
Matt: oh it was giant and curly when i knew her
Matt: you missed out on them at the PEAK of their 80's ness
Beckylooo: sad
Matt: AHHHH!
Matt: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2OHCUcyXSY

(Dennon is the first dancer you see.)

Beckylooo: oh I'm so excited!
Beckylooo: OH OH OH!!!!
Matt: i need that costume
Beckylooo: which one!?
Matt: the gold jazz pants
Beckylooo: laughing so
Beckylooo: hard
Beckylooo: with the cowboy hat and feather!
Matt: YES
Matt: and the scarf
Beckylooo: it would be a gaysplosion!
Beckylooo: shake that ass Cheryl
Beckylooo: “hold it fellows!”
Matt: "watch your hand...it's hurtin my thigh"
Beckylooo: BEN VAREEEN!!!!!!!
Matt: oh my god "hot steamy tropical nights"
Beckylooo: i love that move - the pounding on your hip bones
Matt: oh. my. god.  WHAT IS HAPPENING at the end?!
Beckylooo: its a bad fosse rip off
Beckylooo: almost shot for shot
Beckylooo: except they have their clothes on
Matt: BAD BAD BAD
Matt: but so GOOD GOOD GOOD
Beckylooo: OH WHAT!?
Beckylooo: POOL!!?
Matt: oh yes
Matt: my favorite part
Beckylooo: he's FISHING!
Beckylooo: WHY DID IT END!?

Lazy Post Of The Day: Hey, Old Friends

I really should rename my "Lazy Post" series the "I'm fucking overworked and can't write anything else right now" series.  Nothing makes me more frustrated than feeling like I don't have the time or energy to put into "Ranting" a little bit.  Things should clear up a bit by the weekend so I promise I'll have new and exciting things to discuss in a few days.  In the meantime, I wanted to share a few videos.

This afternoon after having a fantastic lunch with the lovely Sascha and Stella, I made my way home and stumbled into my friend Benj Pasek.  I seem to have made a habit out of running into University of Michigan friends in the most random places.  On the subway, at restaurants, and now on the street...anywhere but through scheduled meetings.  Even though we didn't have much time to catch up, it was fantastic to see Benj again and hear a hint of what he has been up to. 

Benj, along with writing partner Justin Paul, makes up half of the already famous songwriting duo Pasek and Paul.  They won the Jonathan Larson Award for young composers last year (they are the youngest winners ever), and are already becoming a force to be reckoned with in the theater community.  They recently revised the first show they wrote together, Edges, in Albany and it's only a matter of time before they make their Broadway debuts.  Here are a few of their songs.  Take a look (and a listen.)

Here is the FANTASTIC song "Perfect," performed by Whitney Bashor.

One of my favorite songs of theirs, "Ready To Be Loved," performed by the crazy Broadway star Shoshanna Bean.  Benj and Justin are on stage with her. 

Lazy Post Of The Day: In Comes 'Company'

It should give you an idea of what my family is like when I say that some of our most heated discussions center around musical theater.  Since I was a child, we've always made an event out of dissecting Sondheim, who was the closest thing to a God in my household.  To me there's no writer more brilliant and each time I rediscover a show of his I'm more amazed by his craft than ever before. 

A few nights ago I was searching YouTube at 4AM when I discovered a couple of videos from John Doyle's brilliant production of "Company" which was on Broadway last year.  I still can't believe that Raul Esparza lost the Tony Award for this one (a moment which found my family around the TV screaming) and it's one of the most vivid experiences in the theater I've had. 

During my time home last summer, my parents and I debated the importance of the song "Marry Me A Little," which was added to the show after its initial run.  I find it to be an absolutely incredible song that fits perfectly into the struggle of the main character of Bobby.  My father does not.  There's a huge chance no one (other than Jen and Jolene) is going to have any interest in this post, but I'm gonna share it anyway.  At least the three of us can geek out over it. 

Last Night

I haven't felt this type of stress in over eight months.  Today I was talking to David about how I feel like I've forgotten what it feels like to do a full rehearsal day; it's almost unfathomable to me in my current state.  Even though that feeling is lost to me, I'm learning all about the stress brought on by writing assignments.   I've been having extreme ups and downs health wise (especially emotionally) over the past week.  In addition to writing for Dance Spirit, I was recently asked to do a little writing for the next issue of Movmnt Magazine. 

This is a wonderful challenge for me because it's forcing me to step outside of my comfort zone.  Quite frankly, I'm used to writing about myself or at least a topic that I have decided.  With my assignments for Movmnt, I'm writing one about the star of the upcoming "Center Stage 2" (you read that right) and another on the fantastic composer Nico Muhly.  I'm flexing my reporting muscles, but you'll have to pick up the issue when it hits newsstands in late January to read all about it. 

Feeling like I needed a little night of relaxation, I headed over to Marcelo's yesterday for a mini-boys night.  We finally had our long-discussed marathon of the brilliant (and canceled) "The Comeback."  Marcelo, Blaine, Sean and I were laughing up a storm but it was short lived.  I had to return home to my assignments which kept me up well into the night.  Right now I'm taking a step back before I go in for a round of editing.  In the meantime, enjoy some pictures from our impromptu photo shoot. 

(Blaine shows off his hand modeling skills.)

(Lua isn't buying it.)

(Perhaps if we do a photo shoot Lua will love us?)

(Hell yeah she will!  Call US Weekly!)

(Let's take a moment to collect ourselves.)

(Family portrait.)

(Family portrait gone wild.)

(Oh no.  The props have entered the picture...)

(Lua's still not buying it...back to "The Comeback!")

"In A Galaxy Far, Far, Away..."

My pile of writing projects outside of the blog has been a bit overwhelming for the past few days.  Even though I didn't have to attend class last night, several papers for school have been keeping me mighty busy.  This week we were given essays on two subjects that I love: the first was about the incredible author Jonathan Franzen and the second was about....me. 

Each week we have little writing exercises and this week's assignment was to discuss something you used as a form of escape in your childhood.  After reading Jonathan Franzen's essay about his love of the "Peanuts" comics, I immediately settled on my topic.  The only thing that separates this entry from any of my other blog posts all about myself is that I had to incorporate some minor research.  So here is my paper, in all its rough glory! 

The first Target store in Montana opened its doors on my eighth birthday.  This event goes almost unparalleled in my canon of birthday memories from my childhood.  Forgoing the typical party and cake extravaganza, my mom promised me that we would tromp through the store and I’d be able to fill the basket with several choice items lining the toy aisle.  Nothing excited me more and I mark that day as the moment the comfort of the red and white aisles of Target took a hold of me. 

From that day forward I would eagerly await the weekly trip to Tarjaay (a pronunciation I believed to be a secret language of my mothers and I; you can imagine how crushed I was to find out the commonness of this mock French accent.)  Entering the red automatic doors at the front of the store was like a gun going off to start a race.  I’d walk as quickly as possible (running didn’t seem polite) to the action figure aisle and rest my eyes on the shelves stocked with “Star Wars” memorabilia.  In under a minute I could search through each pile and discover which characters would be new and welcome additions to my collection.  I don’t think my mother realized what a simple birthday shopping spree would do to her son; I had discovered how to escape into a galaxy far, far, away. 

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.  When George Lucas created the movies in 1977 he was smart enough to secure the rights to all of the merchandising tie-ins.  “Before Luke, Leia, Han and the short furry zen-meister took to the big screen, toys tied to movies were few and far between.”  A world without movie-tie-in products was a completely unfathomable idea to me when I was eight.  All of the toys I owned were in the likenesses of the characters I saw on screen.  It’s no surprise, seeing that Lucas’ idea has earned him over “8 billion in global sales in 100 different countries” that others quickly followed suit. 

What my mother, and Lucas, could never have predicted was how much this new escape brought out the OCD side of me.  After I’d frantically plowed through the toy aisle, I would realize that other boys my age had done exactly the same, leaving the aisle looking like a tornado had stormed through it.  Rather than take my prizes and run like everyone else, I spent time organizing and cleaning up the aisles while my mother browsed duvet covers and blenders.   

This strange, methodical ritual had its advantages; the women working in the toy department quickly took notice of the little gay boy that could.  Within a few weeks I had gained access the stock room to slice open boxes of the newest shipments of 4-inch figurines.  “Star Wars” mania was at the peak of its resurgence in the toy world and rather than claw my way to a Princess Leia with the other, dirtier, boys, I enjoyed my preferential treatment. 

It’s no surprise that a science fiction movie captured my attention so undividedly; the very appeal of these movies is how far removed they are from the world we live in.  “Star Wars” is “arguably the reason that science fiction moved out of the sub-culture and into the mainstream.”  Whether people are a fan of it, or despise it, it has a special place in everyone’s life.  To this day I can still sit down with other adults and see a fire lit inside of them the moment “Star Wars” toys come up.

Somehow I’m always convinced I can beat others in terms of merchandise acquired.  The aisles of Target and the flood of “Star Wars” merchandising that began to clutter my room bled into other aspects of my life as well.  I found the stories so exciting that they began to inspire much of my young artistic life.  While most kids in Montana were outside riding bears and dancing with deer, I was in my basement choreographing a one man “Star Wars” ballet.  It’s a wonder that I’ve even become remotely socially capable as a young adult.  When I was a child I never remember feeling like an outsider, but it’s clear now to me that “Star Wars” was a comfort because it protected me from the real world.  In a land full of aliens, space fights, and slave women in gold bras attached to giant slugs, I was utterly normal. 

The toys I collected on my various trips to Target allowed me to act out all of my wildest dreams and develop my storytelling skills.  Of course, there was the occasional moment where the OCD would overtake me at home.  A Luke Skywalker figurine that began his life in a pleasant off-white robe would slowly start to change color as my hours of playtime dirtied him.  Panic overtook me and I’d rush downstairs to have my parents calm my psychotic fears. 

Toy industry insiders claim that “Star Wars” established that you could make buckets of money off of kids.  If my parents could, they would probably go back to 1977 and plead with George Lucas to leave his movies as movies and forgo his marketing empire.  I, however, wouldn’t change it for the world.  To this day I can’t enter a Target without a flood of memories and there is rarely a visit where I still don’t head to the toy section first.  Even though my “Star Wars” ballet will forever stay in my basement, the memories created by my escape into Lucas’ world will remain out in the open. 

Ever So Slightly "Enchanted"

When I was growing up, I was obsessed with Disney princesses.  For some strange reason, of all of the doe-eyed beauties that populated the cartoons, I loved Pocahontas the most.  At summer camp while most people (i.e. boys) were out taking archery lessons (which would have benefited the Pocahontas in me) I was inside making replica necklaces that I claimed were for my mother.  Luckily I knew she wouldn’t be caught dead in a string of beads with an aqua bear tooth dangling from the end; it was all mine. 

Ever since “The Little Mermaid,” I eagerly awaited the arrival of each subsequent movie, as it played into not only the musical theater side of me but the merchandising freak as well.  Burger King tie-ins, future Broadway musicals, and everything in between; these movies helped define my childhood in a very strange way. 

In the past few years, they’ve all been released on DVD and as I watch each one I’m amazed at how ridiculous they are.  Some of them have great music, but on a whole, the women are lovesick, bordering on the verge of psychotic, damsels in distress who meet their prince and fall in love as soon as his nipple-less chest comes into view.  I’m amazed that a good parody of the genre hasn’t come along until this week’s release of “Enchanted.” 

In true Disney fashion, they’ve been advertising this one for months in advance.  Part classic animation, part live action, (with a small amount of 3-D thrown in), “Enchanted” is the closest thing I’ve seen to a true Disney princess movie since Mulan (which aside from introducing Disney’s first male character with nipples, didn’t do much for me…or anyone.) 

“Enchanted” begins as a cartoon in the land of Andalasia, where Giselle sits awaiting “true love’s kiss.”  As soon as her Prince Charming rides up on his white horse, they fall in love much to the dismay of the evil Queen mother.  Rather than have Giselle usurp her, the Queen disguises herself and banishes Giselle to New York City, and real life. 

Upon her arrival (out of a manhole in Times Square) the scenario draws immediate laughter.  In the hands of anyone less capable than the truly stellar Amy Adams (who knew what a great actress she was when she did “Drop Dead Gorgeous?!”) the joke would grow tired very quickly.  Decked out in a ball gown with a circumference as big as a small planet, she stumbles around New York searching out anything familiar; what she finds is Patrick Dempsey. 

Blessed with a head of hair that would make a Treseme model swoon, Dempsey’s character has a moment of hesitation before taking Giselle into his New York apartment.  This is where the movie starts to unravel slowly.  The initial shock and humor of seeing a cartoon character in the real world starts to wear off, and it becomes clear that the script rarely transcends the generalities of the cartoon movies which it spoofs. 

There are a handful of charming songs, written by Disney veterans Stephen Schwartz and Alan Menken that keep the proceedings moving along quickly for the first half of the movie before petering out.  Along with spoofing the songs of past Disney hits quite nicely, the cast is populated by all of the women who reigned as Disney princesses in the 90’s.  Lining the scenes, the keen observer (or Disney nut like I used to be) will recognize Jodi Benson (Ariel), and Judy Kuhn (Pocahontas), as well as Broadway veterans Tonya Pinkens and the usually fabulous Idina Menzel.

With the introduction of Menzel’s character, the seemingly icy girlfriend of Dempsey’s family man archetype, I started to lose interest.  Menzel, who has appeared on stage in “Rent,” and won a Tony Award for “Wicked,” makes it clear that she should stay on the stage.  Something about her acting style reads awkwardly on screen, and in addition to that, she has some very unfortunate wig and costume choices towards the end of “Enchanted.” 

Anyone who knows me will be sure to point out that I seem to be a fan of spoofs.  The unfortunate thing about “Enchanted” is that it rarely rises above the level of the material that it lovingly mocks.  There are things that an audience will allow characters to get away with in a cartoon world that just aren’t acceptable in a live action feature.  Character development is one of them, and while Ariel’s swooning over Prince Eric the moment she sets her fins on him appeared cute, here it seems more strange than "enchanted."

I'm Thankful For YouTube

I've dropped off the face of the (blog) Earth for the past few days, and I'd like to apologize.  I wish I had some elaborate excuse, but to be honest I was just in Africa working with baby dragons.  Another day in the life of Ranting Details.  Really I just needed a little bit of a break, as I'm sure everyone did on this lovely holiday weekend.  I spent all day today in bed (literally woke up at 5...yikes Epstein) but found enough time to put together a little video for everyone.  I hope you enjoy it. 

Picture of the Day: 11/24/07

(Glamor Carson strikes it fierce on the subway platform. Look at that twinkle in her eye.)

No Country For Old Men

The Coen brothers’ “No Country For Old Men,” is perhaps the last movie I would expect to draw comparisons to “Brokeback Mountain.”  Yet walking out of the theater early last week, it was the first thing that crossed my mind.  Both are set on vast landscapes that, in addition to providing enticing scenery, mirror the psychological bareness of the characters.  Most importantly, both movies say as much with silence as they do with words. 

What is essentially a thriller about a cold-blooded killer in search of money that has fallen into the hands of another man, “No Country,” comes very close to being a great movie.  Unfortunately it becomes unhinged in its final act.

In many ways it reminded me of last year’s “A History of Violence.”  Just like that film, “No Country,” is a psychological portrait of men overtaken by violent acts.  It’s an exciting change from the normal fugitive’s on the loose summer blockbuster, and it’s helped by a great script and a handful of incredible performances. Through the skillful storytelling of the Coen brothers, it is a film that keeps the audience on the edge of their seats cringing, yet mesmerized, by the horrific violence being depicted. 

The movie drops the audience into the events going on with little or no back-story.  A hunter (played by Josh Brolin) stumbles upon a briefcase filled with two million dollars and what ensues is a chase that finds him narrowly escaping the grasp of a psychotic killer.  We don’t ever find out how these men became the violent beasts that they are today which in turn makes it even more chilling.

At the center of the madness is the incredible Javier Bardem. He gives a performance that is as scary as anything I’ve ever seen on screen.  When I was watching I was reminded of Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lector and I would be amazed if Bardem doesn’t take home a handful of awards come January.  His character is a man of few words, but he is able to say more with his icy stare than with an entire script.

That’s not to say that the Coen brother’s don’t deserve a huge amount of credit for the script they’ve written.  Like their other films, they populate the periphery of the action (that travels across Texas) perfectly.  From the desk clerk at a run down motel, to a gas station attendant and everything in between, the script adds the needed touch of dark humor to the proceedings.  These minor characters’ interactions with the main men tell us more than any of the words that come from the men’s mouths. 

Though it’s a viciously bloody movie, it becomes less about the actual violence than it is about what pushes humans to be capable of such acts.  For 2/3rds of the movie the audience buys into it without craving much exposition, only in the last 1/3rd do the Coen’s falter with their script.  Perhaps in an effort to tie things up, or to add an emotional punch to what we’ve seen, the final act declines into a series of speeches that quickly lost my interest.  It’s unfortunate that an otherwise great movie is dragged down at the end because it left me feeling slightly cheated.  I wanted to absolutely love this film, but in the end I was torn. 

Picture of the Day: 11/23/07

(Ummm...I love my camera.  Happy Thanksgiving!  Delicious creation at the soon to be blogged about (and drama free) Thanksgiving in Brooklyn.)