Sex and the... Jonah Hill?

This is primarily going to discuss "Sex and the City 2" and "Cyrus". If you want to skip the garbage of "Sex and the City 2", just scroll down.

I had to see it. I had to know why everybody was slamming this film, walking out, and eventually becoming incredibly outraged. So I did it. I saw it. And I find that this film would be an incredible example for psychological case studies of damaged pre-menopausal women. Warning: As I dive into this movie, there will be plot spoilers. I assume at this point that you have either already witnessed this disaster or never had the intention and after all the talk, you won't be running to the theater anytime soon.

I have to admit. I did laugh a number of times throughout the movie. There were still witty moments that I found to be enjoyable and the movie has my personal investment of these characters to bank on. And every twenty minutes or so, it worked. That being said, I've never had so many "What the hell?" moments. In the end, "Sex and the City 2" just proves to be a highly unethical, amoral, and degrading movie for not only successful middle-aged people everywhere, but also the characters themselves that so many people have grown to love over the past decade or so.

The women of the HBO series always had a weakness for material goods, high fashion, and a rather extravagant lifestyle. That's nothing new. However, in the series, the girls were always eager to admit that these weaknesses were actual guilty pleasures. They valued love, success, freedom, thought, and definitely companionship above all else. Thus whenever one passed by a shoe store and sighed, it was endearing and not offensive. Besides the massive amount of expensive dinners, the girls on "Sex and the City" didn't lives all TOO differently from many women in Manhattan.

However, that was until their lives entered "Sex and the City 2". Very slowly and creepily the movie starts to show hints of materialism on a seriously unhealthy level. The opening credits themselves are full of sparkle and shimmer, which tends to be Carrie's primary desire. Before 2010, Carrie Bradshaw's definition of sparkle involved romantic excitement and thrilling adventures with her three gal pals. But that definition of sparkle slowly transforms by the time Mr. Big reveals to her his anniversary gift. When he reveals the digital and plasma TV (1. Expensive) that's in a white furnished desk (2. Slightly fashionable) so they could watch black and white movies together (3. Romantic), Carrie is left bereft of the sparkle she so heavily desires. She even goes so far to say that "Jewelry couldn't have hurt." And with a bizarre score and editing, we are supposed to sympathize for Carrie (after so many years of understanding Michael Patrick King's style, nobody should be expecting satire). And there we have it. Carrie Bradshaw, now Preston, has morphed into a materialistic and self-righteous woman that is hard to care about. This continues with Charlotte York's trials and tribulations with her two daughters. When she is baking cupcakes while her daughters are finger painting, she has a nervous breakdown and screams at her daughter for ruining her vintage pants (and Carrie sympathizes over the phone). I repeat, she was baking over 100 cupcakes while her daughter was finger painting and she was wearing expensive vintage pants.

Thus we get to the real result of this film. It's a bonafide tragedy. After a couple of self-discovering seasons, "Sex and the City" blossomed into a farcical series with serious intellect for a demographic and age that wasn't getting intelligent attention. The show didn't fully acheive its success by having Kim Cattrall spit out sex joke after sex joke. In the midst of all of Carrie Bradshaw's awful puns, she had a rather fascinating question or thought every once in a while that would catch viewers off guard. It's tragic how this sequel very well could come back to those intellectual ideas and questions. These women are aging. Yet, the only treatment age has on any of these women is Samantha Jones' fight against menopause. When she starts panicking about losing all of her pills, the girls tell her to shut up as if it isn't an actual concern. I personally don't believe that menopause is a concern for women, I have definitely come to the understanding that menopause is a subject that most women in this country do not handle lightly. Yet, the girls of this film are more terrified about flying Coach than they are about growing old. And no, it's not treated admirably.

The film explodes on many other levels. The character of Adin proved to be a truly significant role in the saga of Carrie Bradshaw. It proved a very valid and necessary concept; women can mess up too. For a show that supports the courage and liberation of women, it seldom shows how the woman can be the fault of relationships ending. Women were finally liberated from the burden of always having to be perfect in relationship. Adin as a primary character created that. He was a genuinely decent and honest man. That was until he came along and strolled into Abu Dhabi which happened to get hit by hurricane SATC2.

There's also the matter of that slightly controversial scene between Miranda and Charlotte at their private bar. Finally, I thought, this movie was not going to be about veranda's and limousines but about a friendship that supports each other through the trials and tribulations of middle-aged women. It actually opens up the conversation about the struggles of motherhood for working women. When Charlotte says the line, "And there are women out there who don't have help! I don't know how they do it!", it would traditionally be seen as a sarcastic and silly comment. But in the context of this film, it goes from cute to unsettling.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. I missed their friendship. I missed their true problems and issues that they had to overcome as successful women. And most importantly, I miss their value system. I don't know whether or not to pray for a 3rd film or not. And after an appalling ending that proves how cheating, whining, and self-centeredness can all be remedied by a diamond, I think the followers of these four women deserve an explanation.

That's enough of that. The series deserves such a long blog... not this film...

Anyways, I want to move on to a movie that I find to be extraordinary and it's my hope that everyone sees it.

"Cyrus" opened this weekend in New York and L.A. and I can't wait for it to expand across the country. It stars John C. Reilly, Marisa Tomei, Jonah Hill, and Catherine Keener (each one giving a four star performance in highly original and psychologically complex characters). Long story short, loser John (playd by Reilly) meets the woman of his dreams in Molly (Tomei) who happens to live with her 21-year-old son, Cyrus (a daft Jonah Hill). Obviously problems are bound to arise, but they do in the most heartfelt of places.

This movie stands out for a number of reasons. For starters, these characters have issues that are incredibly evident. Yet, it's completely understandable why they aren't fully discussed. They are the kind of problems that we see in the people of our own lives but never fully confront. Molly and Cyrus' relationship is anything but conventional. This is clear five minutes upon seeing them in a room together. They're both likable. And in a way, their mother/son relationship is very endearing. But how does John play into this relationship? And for a man who has had no luck with women since his ex-wife (an always delightful Catherine Keener) left him for someone else seven years ago, you can't blame the poor guy for not wanting to bring up the sore subject of Cyrus to his newly beloved Molly.

Mr. Reilly deserves much gratitude. From the moment you meet John, you immediately want things to go right for him, even though he hasn't done anything to deserve that sympathy. It's because he's a fully fleshed human being that every audience member has encountered at least one time or another. This makes the very first meeting of Molly and John all that cathartic, and practically intense. We've seen the trailers, the posters, and the articles. We know that something happens between Molly and John. But we know that at any moment, John could drop the bomb once again, shattering any ray of hope that we had felt the minute before.

Another surprise was Mr. Jonah Hill, and a truly layered performance. I can never tell when an actor adds layers to his performance, but something about Mr. Hill separates this from others. Every time we learn a new fact about the odd Cyrus, it makes sense. Instead of adding a complication to the character (which is the traditional choice for most films), we see a layer that was there since the beginning, only that layer has become slightly clearer. The complications lie in the choices he makes as a troubled young man.

I don't want to reveal too much of what happens. But there's one final trait I have to bring up that is entirely due to the genius work of directors Jay and Mark Duplass. Every moment comes for what it's worth, good or bad. Predictability is irrelevant in this film. Even if something happens that you expect to happen, it feels entirely new or somewhat shocking. Marisa Tomei revealed in a recent interview that there was a strong improvised nature to the shooting of the film, and that every day of production had a different script. The script kept evolving according to how the filming was progressing (since they shot in sequence). I didn't learn of this until after I saw the film, but it makes sense. Moments that we've seen before in other films feel entirely special and unique for this film, because we're constantly reminded that these events are happening to these particular people, and that alone makes it unique.

From Passports to Caroline

Today was a wonderful day. Filled with so many small and notable events. Some relaxing, some productive, but it never seemed to stop.

1. Got my passport from the delivery guy.

2. Went uptown to get a student ticket for "Sondheim on Sondheim"

3. Did the dishes and ran a couple errands.

4. Went through apartment renewal lease.

5. Saw the movie "Cyrus" (An outstanding movie!)

6. Went to the gym for an hour.

7. Came home and ate taco bell.

8. Went back uptown to see "Sondheim on Sondheim" (with the best luck I've ever had with subway trains)

9. Came home and wrote some music.

What did I learn today? Doing things can make you feel... good.

Why "The Phantom of the Opera" just might be the most significant Broadway show out there.

Alright. I know. It's a silly thought. Obviously more musical theatre exists beyond the industry known as "The Phantom of the Opera". Oh wait. I'm sorry. I meant "Andrew Lloyd Webber and Hal Prince's The Phantom of the Opera"

When I think about the impact this production has head on the cultural phenomenon that is American musical theatre (don't forget, it's technically a "British import") I can't help but ponder the devastating effects as well as the endlessly inspirational results.

"Phantom" has lasted about 10,000 performances at The Majestic Theater. And if not, it's reaching that number very quickly. Obviously a world record. We can thank New York City tourists for this monumental financial achievement. But the big question remaining is "Why?" "Why THIS show?" "Why not a show like '1776' or 'Dreamgirls' or heaven forbid, 'Nine'"?

The show has some sex, but not too much. Sure there are elements of violence, but again, not too much. Yes, there is spectacle, but keep in mind the bare stage and/or simple backdrops that exist throughout most of the piece. The moments of spectacle are sparse, albeit remarkable, they do not consist of a steady flow like that of Disney's "The Lion King" or technically downtown's "Blue Man Group" So we come back to the question, "Why THIS particular show?"

It seems rather strange, but if you were to put this project under a magnifying glass, the answer seems all too clear.

I will admit, while many scoff at the notion that this show can be considered "good", I am loud and proud to admit that this show is always a unique and astonishingly rewarding experience in multiple ways. However, in my latest attempts to see the show I feel disheartened at the lack of vitality that exists in the show. My God, there are actors who have been in the show for over two decades. The technology is exactly the same as it was in 1986. And if you were to compare to some rather excruciatingly high-tech Great White Way productions like "American Idiot" or "Fela!", one can't help but wonder why this show has yet to receive an upgrade. The most heart-breaking quality one can examine is the poor excuse of performance exuded by the majority of the cast. The show now feels like it is a piece to be sung, not performed. Poor Howard McGillin. He has performed the show 5,439,302,208 times. When I see him onstage, I can't help but wonder, "Does the meaning of your poetic language change every performance, or desperately every month?" Luckily, he has hung up the mask and departed from the production for (unlikely) bigger and better things.

And yet, the show still nearly sells out every night. Tourists come because "Everyone else has already seen it. I suppose I should too." But what about those damn people (myself included) who come for seconds? Less than a decade ago, the show switched its advertising slogan to read "Remember your first time," very well aware that a large portion of their marketing demographic go towards people who return and return. So why do I keep on returning?

The music. The score. Now before you begin arguing the quality of this score, let me at least make me a few opinions rather clear. Is this the greatest score ever written? Of course not. Is it the smartest? No way in hell. Is it by any means revolutionary? Hardly. The quality that this score possesses unlike most can be summed up by one word: Romanticism. And in its truest form.

I'm not talking about romantic. The young kids in school don't swoon 7th grade girls with "Music of the Night". I am talking about Romantic-ism in its purest form. We as centralized Americans (forgive the generalization) crave and adore emotional romanticism in any artform. Not to mention, there is hardly any symphony on Broadway that can come close to comparison, although the good folks at Lincoln Center easily give them a run for its money. And when you add this orchestra with a backdrop such as Paris, the ideological dream capital of the world, and a typical (yet astronomically bizarre) love triangle, you have Harold Prince shoving down gallons of Romanticism down the throats of every audience member who witnesses "Phantom." Not much thought, but more emotion that one should probably consume. Take a listen to the "Entr'acte" of Phantom. You'll have some sense of what I refer to.

Why is this important? Charles Isherwood, a frustrating and relatively juvenile critic for the New York Times wrote an interesting features article in the Saturday Arts and Leisure section, one day before the Tony Awards. The headline reads, "Broadway has Lost Its Voice". Now, folks have been saying that theatre is dead since the times of the Ancient Greeks. Upon first reading the article, that's all I merely read it as. An old guy complaining about the modern times. But after some serious reflection, Isherwood (shockingly) has a truly significant point. Why were the Tony Awards so drastically uneventful and unexciting?

Let me propose a theory that holds dear to my heart: the lack of original scores. Broadway loves to title itself as a community. If it is a solid community that they speak of (count how many times the word arises at the Tony ceremony), then there is a certain responsibility by those who become involved. Jukebox musicals can be delightful. As a serious Elvis fan, I loved the "All Shook Up" production for all its candy-coated glory. Slightly intriguing bio-musicals like "The Boy From Oz" and "Buddy" serve a relatively important purpose. But if the Broadway "community" is consumed by these types of productions, than Broadway as a cultivated American culture is in grave danger. When Isherwood says, Broadway has "lost its voice", he's referring to its own sense of identity. If Broadway productions continue to rely on the music that is produced in Nashville, or L.A., then what the hell is coming out of New York? If this type of atmosphere were to dangerously continue (which in my opinion is highly unlikely) then the tourist filled theatre district would become more and more like a Vegas copout. I love Vegas, but they have their own culture that they wear proudly. New York does not need to copy.

The two original scores were "The Addams Family" and "Memphis." While I have only heard two songs from Addams I can honestly say it sounds very familiar to Memphis, despite its "Mambo"esque theme. And Memphis sounded like, well, everything else. And thus the end of original scores. I was hoping to email a broadway composer with the hopes of working as an intern. I came very close a year ago with one show that ended up falling through but this year I came across an interesting problem: There weren't any musical composers! Whether it's factual or not, I am thoroughly convinced that the heart of this issue that faced the Tony awards this year, and overall the dissatisfaction with Broadway as a whole (and if you're in New York, it's relatively understood) lies in the lack of new composers, new works.

Thus we came back to our friend, "Phantom". I earlier stated that it must be seen under a magnifying glass. Not because there are great details to be discovered, but because this production takes the certain elements of musical theater and blows them to a larger than life proportion. The sets are blatant, but mammoth. The score is traditional, but expanded. The story is common, but twisted. And here's the most fascinating part. It's performed around the world, constantly.

So bring me the romanticized ideology that American audiences so desperately crave! And bring me the enormous symphony that plays eight times a week! It serves as a significant reminder of an era in which Broadway flourished with its own voices! In 1984, the nominees for Best Score were Jerry Herman, Stephen Sondheim, Kander and Ebb, and Maltby and Shire. Two years later Phantom opened and still exists today (thanks to the million dollar money making capitalist schemes of Cameron Macintosh, as well as a devastating film from Mr. Joel Shit-maker). But Phantom continues playing its soaring string sections. Thank goodness for Revivals. Otherwise, we'd be left with the last reminder of the voice Broadway has yet to be.

Final statement. No. I don't believe that musical theatre is dead by any means. If anything, it's better than ever before (over $1 Billion in profits!) However I am more than excited and overjoyed to discover the empathy about this years Tony awards. It's a telling sign that the score is in high demand, whether obvious or not. Some new musicals have been announced for next year. Two are musical revues (Ray Charles and the Beatles). But then composers Kander and Ebb, David Yazbek, Matthew Sklar, Marc Shaiman and more are making a comeback. Stand back and let the masters back into the ring. I can't wait to listen.

And the tony goes to... um... that guy?

Don't get me wrong. I love the Tony Awards. I tend to complain about them with a grain of salt. Award shows inherently have their undesirable and artificial traits. They also have their emotionally invested and riveting aspects. But I have never been less passionate about a Tony ceremony, and this is true for a few reasons.

1. I can easily list the FOUR shows I saw on Broadway this year (I guess I've been busy? I wish I knew why this was the case.) But the only shows I saw were "Finian's Rainbow", "La Cage Aux Folles", "Memphis", and "American Idiot".

2. I think the roster of new musicals is incredibly unexciting. Fela sounds cool (which I'm seeing with a class on Wednesday). But other than that, I'm not excited. Nothing to say about the shows as much as it does say about me. I haven't seen Little Night Music or Ragtime (STILL makes me upset!) But I'm not that passionate about any of the shows, really.

I wish I knew exactly why. Maybe it's the lack of original scores (But I think that American Idiot is the best show I've seen on Broadway... out of the four.) Maybe it's the lack of original stories (But Memphis is an "Original" musical, isn't it?)

I don't know. It should still be a fun event.

Maybe next year there will be an abundance of new works that will be recognized. Maybe I'll write one of them.

The Magic Feather

My mind is spent so much on "What's going to happen after this coming year?"

Grad School is something to look into. I'm also looking into LaGuardia Community College for an Associates Degree to be a Veterinary Technician. Maybe "Reporting Live" or "Goodnight, Stranger" (unlikely) will land on the desk of some big time producer who will say to me what Merrick said to Herman, "Kid, you have a show!" (with a bowler hat and cigar). Maybe I end up moving in with my parents and enter my quarter life crisis. By the way, I never heard of that term until a week ago, and frankly it sounds kind of stupid. I understand that it's going to be IMMENSELY difficult to leave Academia and enter reality. But frankly, Academia is reality. It's reality the entire time you are alive. I don't mean to get existential or anything like that, but I have to believe that to call it a quarter life crisis (A.) assumes you will live to be 90 or 100, (B.) states that this time in your life that is a crisis deserves a title, unlike the "middle school crisis" or the "teething crisis", (C.) or is a term that is telling you that you SHOULD be having a crisis.

...also, I haven't entered this part of my life. And the fact that I'm worried about it with a year to go could be a sign that it's a very real thing. But for now, I'm going to believe that it isn't.

When I was in high school, I heard the statistic that 98% of high school theater students do not pursue the endeavor with success. When I told this to a dumb blonde at my school she sincerely responded, "Well, I'm going to be one of the percents... you can be the other." (No joke)

One night at dinner with my parents, my dad asked me the undesirable question, "What IS college doing to prepare you for life post-graduation?" The reason this moment is noteworthy is because up until now, my dad has fully explained to me over and over again that college is where you can invest much of your time in discovering yourself and what you want to do. He and my mom have always said that I should learn about what interests me, and not worry about what the degree is. Well... graduation is one year away, and now the question is on their minds too.

I got drinks with the delectable Cassie Spangler and Jennifer Laudia a little over a week ago. Cassie made an interesting comment. She said, "I'm actually not concerned about any of my friends being successful after college." She explained how she believes that she is surrounded by genuinely smart, talented, and heartfelt individuals. And frankly, I feel the same. I know that Dylan is going to be successful after graduation just because of how damn smart he is, and how much passion is in his soul. My close friends at PHTS are finding ways to keep themselves busy by working with more and more professional venues in the city. Tyler is a brilliant playwright. Jen is an astonishing director (more than she realizes). I'm surrounded by bright and talented human beings. I'm not worried about them. So should I be worried about myself?

The answer is yes. Worry is good. Not too much though. But still, it's good. I've seen maybe 3.4 Batman cartoons in my lifetime, but I distinctly remember one in which there was a strange case about a man who lost all ability to fear. In result, he jumped off a building and he died. I have no idea what that episode was, but damn it taught me a lot when I was younger (I'm sure Tyler can name the episode).

I don't know. I just have to believe that if you are smart, compassionate, self-aware, and have developed just the right amount of skill, you can do more than you've ever dreamed. Sounds like it's from a Disney movie, and it is. Just pick one. It's probably from it. Let's look at one for example. In "Dumbo", that fricken elephant refuses to let go of that damn feather. One of the most climactic moments in cinematic history (at least in my mind as a child) was when Timothy and Dumbo jump off the burning building during one of their final performances. They are plunging at such a high speed that the "Magic Feather" slips right out of the elephants trunk. Timothy begins screaming at Dumbo in terror and desperation, "Dumbo! Come on! Fly! Open them ears! The magic feather was just a gag! You can fly, honest you can! Hurry, open them up! Please!" And with only a millisecond to spare, Dumbo opens his ears and soars for the first time.

It's a blatant metaphor. I know. But a fucking good one at that. I don't think I need to spell it out for you, but I will anyways. Blah blah blah, we all have our magic feathers, blah blah blah, if we all just opened our ears we can soar to new heights. I actually just said nothing new. It's not even a metaphor. Just factual. By the end of the movie, Dumbo is a worldwide sensation and is able to fly all on his own. The final images show Dumbo's mother sitting in the back of a train, waving a handkerchief to her son, who is flying in close distance above the train. He then swoops down and embraces his mother.

There's truly a heartfelt point to this. We will always have people there to support us, people who will be there when we can't necessarily fly on our own. But as long as we know that we always have the potential to, there isn't anything worth stopping us. One of the greatest songs I can think of is sung in the beginning of film. You all know it. "Baby Mine". It's potentially one of the saddest songs in a Disney film. Dumbo's mother is locked up, chained to the ground. Dumbo and Timothy snuck up one night, and the only way they can touch is when their trunks are stretched out, and hers becomes wrapped around his. The instant moment of this touch brings Dumbo to tears (don't forget, Dumbo at this point is still nothing less than a baby). One of the lyrics includes "Rest your head close to my heart / Never to part, baby of mine." In the beginning it feels like a song about a mother holding onto her child. But by the end of the movie, it ends up being much more metaphorical than lyrical. And that, is a truly beautiful and astonishing thing.

I should stop worrying. Of course, not entirely.

I miss my friends, and I miss you. (Norbert and Cody do too.)

If you get a chance, take a listen to "Baby Mine" it might bring you such comfort or it will break your heart. Either way, it's bound to do something.

Bernadette is back on Broadway, and I'm back on a bus.

I’m having a rather difficult time determining what I should write about with this blog. Every time I start writing something, I erase it believing that it shouldn’t go on this website. Why don’t I talk about the exact thing that is racing in my mind. This summer.

My summer is broken down into four parts. Three more weeks of class, three weeks working in Lovewell, Ohio. Three weeks doing Lovewell in Sweden. And then three and a half weeks to fill the end of summer. Those three weeks at the end is the primary source of freedom I have. (Don't get me wrong, Lovewell is one of the things I look forward to most). By the way, I am writing this in the dark, without any screen lit so I can’t see the screen on my laptop (because I’m currently on a bus and don’t want the brightness to bother people who are trying to sleep).

I’m excited for Ohio so I can get away from everything. I should really treat Lovewell Ohio as a vacation that involves a lot of work. I’m really looking forward to living with Cassie for a few weeks, a beautiful girl I used to see all the time in high school, and since college I have barely seen at all. Which leads to why I’m MAINLY excited about Sweden. I get to spend some serious amounts of time with Miss Laudia.

Getting to work on a lovewell with Jen… and IN SWEDEN! AND I’m reunited with Miss Gilchrist and I’m happily awaiting the chance to work with Mr. Ankarblom. But I’m having a rather difficult time accepting the summer that I have planned knowing that Tyler isn’t in New York with me, and won’t be with me in Ohio or Sweden. In fact, I’ve been constantly deliberating flying home again next weekend just to spend a few days with him. Or anything.

I am ecstatic over the fact that he will be script editing a Lovewell workshop this summer. Tyler is truly an astonishing writer, a lot better than he realizes probably. In all actuality, he’s one of the best student writers I’ve ever come across at NYU (I mean, in my opinion he is the best. A lot of PHTS students could learn a shit ton from his plays). Fuck student. He really is one of the best out there. There’s nothing I want more than to write a horror musical with him. We had some legitimately good ideas back in high school of shows that could be worked on. Maybe in the future.

Also I’ve never collaborated with anybody before in regards to writing a musical.

Oh yeah. That’s a nother new thought that has popped into my head. Grad School.

I’ve always known that I wanted to apply to the Grad Musical Theatre Writing Program. I mean, it never hurts to apply. But I always assumed that I wouldn’t get in, or that it wouldn’t be something that I’d really want to do. But ever since I talked to Mr. Nathan Tysen and Mr. Chris Miller a little over a week ago, they said that it is incredibly possible for me to go to that school. Undoubtedly even. And it makes me wonder how much I want to do this… write musicals. A part of me feels like it’s so frivologus to do so. A person who tries to write musicals for the majority of his life doesn’t sound like somepone who’s really contributing something. Maybe it is, I’m not sure.

Another thing, the idea of going to grad school for MTW makes me want to act even less. Maybe I’m not meant to be an actor. Maybe I’m not meant to be a composer, or anything like that. I’m stuck in this mode where I want to do everything. Thank you PHTS.

At this point I’m just writing about anything that that will entertain me while I’m riding on this bus (and I’m barely into the first hour of the ride). Maybe I should stop here for now.

When I get home, I am going to make myself a celebratory drink to The Return of Miss Bernadette Peters to Broadway this July. It’s been long, long overdue. And I couldn’t be happier for her. And I expect to go bankrupt from all the tickets I will be buying. Mazel Tov.