Tonight saw the 68th Annual Hollywood Foreign Press Association's Golden Globe Awards, which supposedly honor the best in both movies and television. Since they are the first awards given during "award season," many people consider them to be indicators of how the AMPAS voters will choose the winners of the Oscars. To which I say: Feh!
Why do I say this? Two words: Pia Zadora. Yes, Pia Zadora. Does anyone remember her? Way back in 1982, Pia won a Golden Globe as Most Promising Newcomer (an award which is no longer given, by the way) for her work in the truly awful Southern potboiler Butterfly. A true stinker of a film, Butterfly is basically about the incestuous relationship between an Arizona farmer (Stacy Keach) and his daughter (Zadora). A wretched train wreck of a film, co-starring Orson Welles as a bellicose judge, Butterfly had yet to be screened by anyone when Zadora won her award. It turned out that her husband Meshulam Riklis (who was 31 years older than she was when they married), actually paid members of the HFPA to vote for her. The scandal nearly scuttled the Golden Globes for good.
So tonight, while I watched the first two hours of this year's Golden Globes (mostly to see just how catty host Ricky Gervais would be), I couldn't help but think of Pia Zadora and her completely undeserved award. And of course, Gervais delivered the goods, taking jibes at certain Scientologistsnot in attendance and the most recent scandal involving tickets to Cher's show in Vegas.
Still doubting? Then take a gander at Zadora's "Award-Winning" performance:
Zadora would go on to be in the film adaptation of Harold Robbins' The Lonely Ladyand later make a hilarious appearance as a beatnik artist in John Waters' 1998 Hairspray. She also had a small role in The Naked Gun 33 1/3, but has since gone on to be a rather minor footnote in Entertainment History. I should also point out that as a child, she appeared in the horrendous Santa Claus Conquers The Martians, though the hilarious folks at MST3K have already skewered that movie - My favorite line? "Pills for breakfast? What are we, Judy Garland?"
So, while favorites like "Glee," The King's Speech and The Social Network may have won Golden Globes tonight, I'll wait until the real awards are given out later this year.
Okay - here's the deal. It was recently announced that none of us are the Zodiacal signs we've always assumed we were. It all has to do with the position of Magnetic North and the alignment of the stars when the Zodiac was first established over 3000 years ago vs. their positions today.
This is not really new news. Astronomers have known this for about 2500 years. Astrologists, however, have chosen to ignore this bit of science for the last two and a half millenniums, simply because it doesn't jibe with what their charlatan predecessors wrote all those years ago. It's also something I remember being reported with much less fanfare about 10 years ago. We all seemed to ignore it then, so why the big uproar now? Maybe because the much-feared (and completely over-hyped) 2012 is looming that much closer (and please remind me to point and laugh at those people when 2013 rolls around and the Earth is still spinning on it's axis).
Anyway, according to the new positions of the stars, we are actually the Zodiac sign preceding the sign we've always assumed ourselves to be. So, according to the new charts I am actually a Gemini. But I'm not buying it. Not that I actually buy the whole Horoscope thing in the first place. But when one looks up the attributes of Cancer in a Zodiacal chart, I am the embodiment of that particular sign: Creative; artistic; a homebody; emotional and slightly stubborn; opinionated and affected by the cycles of the moon. Check, check and check. Cancers tend to get along with other Cancers (an apparently rare thing among the signs - and something which would explain many of the relationships and adventures I've had during my life) and we don't like being told that we are wrong. Of course, over the last 20 years or so, there has been a push to rename Cancer (because of the negative connotations associated with the word) to "Moonchild," hence the title of this post. But surely, there are plenty of creative homebodies with headstrong opinions who were born during other times of year. I can name at least half a dozen among my own friends and acquaintances.
Now, anyone with half a brain knows it's all BS and nothing about who you really are has anything to do with the time of year in which you were born. But humans have a tendency to try to make order out of the chaos that is the Cosmos. We try to try the force randomness of the Universe into orderly things we can both control and comprehend. But to me, that randomness is the beauty of life. Do things happen for a reason? We would all like to think so. But they probably don't. Accidents are just that; synchronicity is just coincidence and fate is a concept created to comfort us in the face of all the random crap that happens just because it happens. Time is a randomly assigned set of numbers (which varies depending on which calendar you happen to follow) and no one will ever really know the true nature of existence, except perhaps the Zen Buddhists who believe that life is its own reward and we should rejoice in the fact of our own existence, for its own sake.
I suppose that all sounds bleak and existential to most of you. Hell, after almost 50 years of thinking about such things, I'm still not sure myself. Still, after almost 50 years of thinking about such things, the uncertainty of all is what makes our lives so very precious.
In the end, I'm still a Moonchild (Okay... Cancer, you purists) and that's the silly blurb I'll read in the Daily Horoscope, hoping it's true despite knowing it's nonsense, forgetting what it says 10 minutes after I've read it.
MSNBC's amazing and funny Rachel Maddow has her own thoughts on the matter, which you can see in the clip below (via):
That's the hedge at the bottom of my driveway this past February. It will probably look very much the same tomorrow, despite what a co-worker who has a degree in meteorology told us on Thursday when we left for the holiday break. What makes it okay is that I have off tomorrow, anyway. And it makes my neighborhood so pretty, especially at the houses with holiday lights. I know many of you don't have off, but you may get to extend your holiday weekend anyway. It's a pretty epic storm, I guess. The NFL actually re-scheduled the Eagles' game tonight. It's the first time the NFL has postponed a game because of snow since the 30's (sometimes I 'm just so butch I almost can't stand it).
And yes, in case you're wondering, I got several pages of the screenplay written last night and think I've pretty much outlined the rest of the plot in full. After this brief post, I'm off to rewrite a scene so it supports the new outline. I'll probably spend a good portion of my snowed-in day writing, as well. The snow here won't stick around long - they're predicting temps in the 50's for next weekend.
I hope all my East Coast readers get a snow day tomorrow! I hope you're all snug and warm, watching the movies or playing the video games you got for Christmas or Hanukkah. I hope you have enough milk, eggs, bread and batteries to see you through the dig-out (is there some French toast rule I don't know about?). I hope some kids offer to shovel for $10 or $20, so you don't have to (so worth it). Even better, I hope a kind neighbor with a snow-blower digs you out for free (though you should at least offer a cup of cocoa). I hope you got a sled for Christmas! I hope you have a place to use it on your snow day! I hope you're careful! Wear a helmet! You'll shoot your eye out! Wait... wut?
If you're unlucky enough to have to go back to work tomorrow, I hope it's an easy and quick week for you.
Merry Christmas, friends! I know there's a bit of geek in all of you, or none of you would read a damned thing I had to say. So this (originally intended to be) short post is for the geek in all of us.
My sweet, crazy sister apparently spent three months looking through every 'trading post' that Disney had set up for their Vinylmation Park line of figurines. Earlier this fall, she sent me an article about the Steampunk Mickey figurines and I responded by hinting very broadly (and several times) that Christmas was coming. Every time they went to the park (which is a lot - they have a timeshare on property) my sister and brother-in-law searched for one of them. Sis said that in some places when they asked about it, the 'Cast Members' looked at them like they had three heads. Finally, in an unlikely Trading Post the 'Cast Member' said "Yeah. Sure. You have to trade up for it." So the B-i-L went and bought a random figure to trade up for the striking and oddly sinister Steampunk Micky 3" Vinylmation Parkfigurine you see in the picture at the top of this post. And as an added bonus, she literally stumbled upon the T-shirt with a graphic of the very figure, itself. Double-plus Good!
Now, I have to be honest and tell you how conflicted I am about Disney some day, but you have to admit, these are an aging Film/Sci-Fi/Animation Geek's perfect gifts, sent by a self-professed Disney Dork (no that's not her blog, but I know she reads it). Santa bought some very excellent stuff (like the Tom-Tom with infinite map updates; a new pair of my favorite "comfortable" shoes and an exceptionally clever and useful tripod LED flashlight) and I really loved them all. Still, Sis also got the number three and four spots with my (shamefully) first personal copy of Evil Dead II on DVD and an astonishingly soft and luxurious faux-lambskin throw. I'm telling you, this thing is softer than a baby's cheek and cozier than a snuggle with a teddy bear. My presents to them were good but their presents to me were better. I love getting toys for Christmas and I hope all of you got at least one, yourselves!
Today is Boxing Day, but I didn't get any gloves this year... Sorry, lame pun attempt... I'm on a carb high followed by an Asti Spumante chaser...
Anyway, if this post comes off as bragging, it's bragging about my little sister who spent three months looking for a 3" piece of useless plastic because she knew it would geek me out and make me smile. Double-plus Double-Plus Good.
And there was (thank goodness) only one case of this last night (via):
Though I won't tell you who had it.
I have every intention of attempting to finish the first draft of the screenplay I've been working on for almost a year while I'm off from the day job this week and we're supposed to get some significant snow here in the Delaware Valley tomorrow into Monday, so it's a good time to sequester myself a bit and figure out the rest of Act II and the segue to Act III. If I don't post over the next few days, it means I'm toiling. If I do, it means I'm flying along, happy with every word I write... (as if).
Okay, so spill. What is/are your favorite present(s) this Christmas? Make me jealous so I stop thinking these exceptionally geeky gifts are complete "geek chic" and more than appropriate for a man old enough to have witnessed Nixon's resignation.
And now a private message to my sister - you may skip a paragraph ahead, if you like :
Love ya, Sis! Miss you lots! See you in April! Remember what kind of cake I want (and yes, it can be low-carb, as long as it's delicious). Simi-tata; bwooouussccchh; "Canons to the left of me!" and Owl Hootsey to you, Silly Girl. Never stop making me laugh and smile and I'll never stop making you. Oh, one more thing - "CAMILLE!!!!!!!!!!!"
Now to those of who did read the above paragraph: You're undoubtedly shaking your heads and completely agreeing that what you have suspected all along is true and that your dear old Uncle Prospero is completely bonkers (which I have never denied, btw). But I promise you all, Uncle P's sister will probably be convulsing in laughter when she gets back to her day job and finishes reading that paragraph. I could have gone on with at least several dozen more non-sequiters and nonsense words that have meaning to her and me only. Of course, when she reads the Revenge, she emails her responses directly to me. Let's all encourage her to reply here, instead. She can be pretty funny when she wants to be...
I hope you all had a Merry Christmas! Tell me what your favorite present(s) was/were and tell the little baker lady to speak up. I know she has a Gmail account, so it's not like she can't... (Think she's getting the hint?) By the way, she can even create a secret identity to reply and I'll know it's her, because she'll use the other Pee Wee quote (on Letterman) that has equal effect on both of us.
Okay - it's not Saturday and while these two things probably belong on the Zombie Zone, I've already done my Christmas post there, so here they are. The first bit of nonsense is from Failblog and is a Google autocomplete inquiry. That means at least one person searched for that specific question. Why? Why would anyone need to know that? Of course, as a screenwriter doing research, I've searched for some pretty outrageous information, but nothing that comes close to this particular inquiry.
And since I've already brought up eating human flesh, the zombie-lovin' loons over at BoingBoing posted the video below, today. It made me laugh. I hope makes you laugh, too. I really will be taking tomorrow and Saturday night off (and maybe Sunday). I'm on vacation from the day job all week and plan on finally finishing the the first draft of the screenplay I've been working on for the past year or so. Anyway, enjoy this:
So yesterday, Uncle P cooked the entire Thanksgiving meal. It wasn't nearly as large a meal as in some households. It was just me and my mother for dinner. But it was certainly more food than I usually prepare for a single meal. I roasted a small turkey breast, made two kinds of dressing (my grandmother's Hungarian-style liver stuffing for me and more traditional stuffing for Mom); mashed potatoes; mashed turnips and carrots; candied sweet potatoes (which I actually tried and liked for the first time in my life); gravy and crescent rolls. Yes, there was canned cranberry sauce (my kitchen is small and I didn't have the time for anything fancier). For dessert, we had carrot cake (purchased from a day-job friend as part of a fund-raiser for her son's school) instead of the traditional pumpkin pie. Carrot cake is my personal favorite cake and this one, while a bit expensive, was exceptional. Everything turned out wonderfully, despite painfully bending back my thumbnail while attempting to open the tube of crescent rolls (which resulted in blood spoiling about half of them, but then there were only two of us, anyway). I worked off most of the calories in the clean-up, though I still have plenty of left-overs.
Of course, today was Black Friday. Unlike my sister, who left her house at 4AM in an attempt to catch some bargains, I slept in and didn't go out shopping until noon. No camping out, no stampedes, no lunatics. Well, some lunatics, but not many. My first stop was actually the grocery store to take advantage of a two-day sale on paper towels and toilet paper - practical, if nothing else. I then made stops at three other stores in search of specific items, most of which I found at reasonable prices. I came home, had a meal of reheated leftovers (which barely made a dent) and caught up on this week's DVR'd programs. Of course, most of the rest of this weekend will be spent working out the final details of my upcoming show, though I do have a lunch scheduled with some very dear friends on Sunday.
My holiday shopping is about 50% done, which is late for me. Back in the day, when I worked in retail and went to Florida every October, I was 90% finished by this time of year. And while I buy gifts for less people now than I used to, it seems to be getting harder and harder to find the "perfect" gift for some folks, especially those I've known the longest. Oh well. I still have 27 days to finish and plenty of stores and websites left to visit.
I hope all my American friends and readers had a wonderful Thanksgiving and I want to wish everyone a fabulous Holiday season, no matter what holiday it is you may be celebrating in the upcoming month or so. This time of year always seems to turn Uncle P into more of a sentimental old fool than he usually is. Maybe a trip to a spa is order. At least I wasn't part of something like this (via):
Yes, that is a turkey-headed monster on the poster for Blood Freak, a 1972 anti-drug picture made by religious nutjobs to warn against the dangers of marijuana.
Blood Freak is the story of Herschel (Steve Hawkes), a Vietnam vet who picks up a hitchhiker named Angel (Heather Hughes) on his hog and takes her home. Angel is a religious good girl, who invites Herschel to crash at her pad for a while. Angel's sister Ann (Dana Cullivan) is a bad girl and she turns Herschel onto pot, to which he immediately becomes maniacally addicted. To support his habit, Herschel gets a job at a local turkey processing plant, testing turkey meat. Of course, the turkey place is run by a mad scientist who is trying to create a turkey that's as addictive as pot. When Herschel eats some contaminated turkey - his head turns into a papier mache turkey head!
And if having a papier mache turkey head isn't bad enough, Herschel is now a turkey-vampire who can only survive by drinking the blood of other pot addicts. Naturally, he goes on a killing spree, draining blood from his victims and slurping it up through his papier mache beak from his hands (I guess he couldn't find a straw). Finally, Jesus shows up to teach Herschel the error of his ways and he is saved, upon which he wakes up to discover the whole thing was just a drug-fueled nightmare.
I wish I was making this one up, but I'm not. Here:
Wow. Poppers, wine and pot. Yep, these are some bad people. Not only does Blood Freak make absolutely no sense, it features some of the worst acting ever committed to celluloid; special effects that would make H.G. Lewis laugh at their amateurishness and several brief appearances by director Brad F. Grintner as the Narrator/Herschel's conscience, who occasionally breaks out into a coughing fit so bad, you wish he'd swallow some codeine-laced cough syrup already:
And mind you, the trailer below was intended to make you want to see this movie:
Why do I think the maker's of V8 are indebted to the makers of this film?
Thus endeth the Turkey Month Turkeys. I hope you and yours had a wonderful and delicious Thanksgiving. As always, I have loads to be thankful for, not the least of which are you, my readers. I don't have nearly as many followers as some bloggers, but I am very thankful for the ones I do have.
Tomorrow is known as Black Friday in the U.S. (presumably because it's the day when retailers' books go into the black ink, rather than the red) and Uncle P will be out looking for holiday bargains (though not at 3 or 4 AM, as many will be). I've already done some Christmas shopping online and have just a few more things to pick up. If they're good enough to share, I'll recount my shopping adventures tomorrow. If not, expect more of the usual nonsense.
By now, regular readers know that Uncle P's sister is a baker. She has a side business making custom cakes, cookies and cupcakes for weddings, birthdays and various celebrations that require baked sweets as part of their rituals. She's gotten quite good, though even she will admit she's no Buddy Valastro. Still, she makes some delightful desserts for special occasions and her clients and co-workers love what she does.
Cakes and cookies non-withstanding, Uncle P's sister is also his best friend and one of the very few (if not the only) people who actually 'gets' him. Growing up, even though we were six years apart, we actually shared a "language" which to this day, no one else understands. It's no secret that one of us can utter a word, phrase or a series of nonsense syllables that will have the other writhing in hysterics to the dismay and utter consternation of those around us. Her husband and our mother still roll their eyes at one another when we get going.
Many years ago, my sister and her husband moved to western Florida. Since then, I've tried to visit at least once a year. We take day trips to Disney or Universal (my personal favorite theme park); loll about in the Gulf Coast sun; hit the outlet malls or dine at unusual places and generally act like the kids we never grew out of being when together. Occasionally, my sister will venture north, though she loathes the weather here and would rather our mother and I come South. Last year, due to any number if circumstances (including the extensive renovations required on Uncle P's house), I didn't make my annual visit.
This week, my sister is making a rare northern excursion to attend her 25th High School Reunion, While I am thrilled that she and I will get to spend some time together, I am also secretly hoping that she will get to experience the surreal kind of event that Uncle P had last year at his 30th.
Needless to say, I doubt her experience will be anything like this:
My sister isactually a successful executive at a major corporation, so there! Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah! While I don't personally care what happens at the reunion, I'm just happy to be able to spend some time with my baby sister (and perhaps confound some folks with our unique relationship).
More, anon.
Prospero
P.S. Tonight, I actually realized how weird it is to refer to myself in the third person. I feel like a "Seinfeld" character... Is that a bad thing? Oh, and if you're wondering if she'll take offense at the pictures I've linked to my sister's references, I can assure you she'll say they just weren't weird enough....
Hey - if Nixon could do "Laugh-In" (remember kiddies, your Uncle P is old...), then why shouldn't Clinton appear in a raunchy sex-comedy? I can't think of a better genre for the man, can you? Of course, Nixon wasn't yet President when he appeared on the subversive NBC sketch comedy and Clinton is a former President. I mean, it's pretty unlikely that Mr. Obama is going to make a cameo in Porky's 3 anytime soon.
I must admit, I am Clinton fan. Sure, he created the woefully inept DADT policy, but the US economy under his administration was the strongest it had been in a long time. "But, he had an affair!" I can hear some of you thinking (yes, Uncle P can indeed hear some of you thinking, so be careful what you think). So did many POTUSes. He was impeached because he lied about sex. Hell, most people in this country should be impeached, then. He didn't lie about WMDs, start an unnecessary war or authorize torture and other war-crimes. He didn't drive our economy into a tailspin by spending trillions killing thousands US soldiers and innocent Iraqis. He didn't steal an election by having a brother who was governor of the deciding state. He didn't authorize millions of illegal wiretaps or suspend habeus corpus. And I imagine that if 9/11 had happened on his watch, he wouldn't have sat dumbly staring out into space for almost a minute while trying to figure out what to do. And I never once heard Bill say anything like this:
So why shouldn't private citizen Clinton make an appearance in The Hangover 2? He has a right to do whatever he wants (within reason, of course), just as you and I do. Who knows, maybe he'll inhale this time. Personally, I don't care, just as long as Bradley Cooper spends most of the movie like this.
In 1986, George Star Wars Lucas was sure that his next hit would be the big-screen adaptation of the Marvel Comics undergound hit Howard the Duck. Casting Lea Thompson (hot off of Red Dawn and Space Camp); Jeffrey Jones (Ferris Beuller's Day Off) and Tim Robbins (Top Gun) in a story about an extraterrestrial avian brought to Earth via a mad scientist's laser beam, Lucas and company were sure they had a massive hit with this craptatstic adaptation.
While Steve Gerber's randy adult comic book was subversive and original, the adaptation directed by William Huyck (best known for directing the 1979 comedy French Postcards and writing Lucas' first hit American Graffiti) is quite simply a mess of excess. Everything about this movie is so over-the-top (including Thompson's ridiculously huge 80's "big hair"), there's no where to go. While Howard may have worked as a subversive pen-and-ink anti-hero, but he flopped massively as a a celluloid action hero. And deservedly so, given the excessive effects budget and poorly written screenplay.
Featuring ridiculous performances; really bad special effects; icky inter-species sex and one of the most expensive puppets in film history, Howard the Duck is the one the 1980's worst big-budget movies and (until the later Star Wars films) the nadir of George Lucas' career.
Uncle P knows he saw this movie on VHS in the 80's, but his memories of it are buried deep in the vault of things he'd rather forget. Stupid, vapid and painfully unwatchable, Howard the Duck is perhaps the epitome of everything that was wrong about the 1980's (and that includes rat-tails; parachute pants and jellies).
I'd like to think that even though I was a "New Wave" kid in the 80's, I was still above this kind of lameness, though I'll bet if you ask any of my contemporaries, they'd be just as embarrassed by this crap as I am...
Well, I suppose there are worse things than not getting to cover every director one wanted to talk about during "Shocktober." I've decided it just gives me time to talk about the rest, next year.
My Halloween was rather uneventful, this year. I had very few Trick-or-Treaters and am left with a bowl of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups that I certainly don't need to eat. I'll freeze some and take some to the day job, I guess (revenge on all the folks who constantly bring goodies in for the rest of us to get fat on).
I'll be back in the early morning hours to review both Hereafter and "The Walking Dead." For now, I'm off to catch up on all the email and stuff I neglected over the weekend.
By the way, today was Dear D's birthday. He'll get his gift from me tomorrow night at the first read-through for JTMF's staged radio production of It's a Wonderful Life, our first ever Winter benefit. More on that, very soon.
I hope your Halloween was fun and scary and delicious and everything you'd hoped it would be. November, of course, is Turkey Month, and I'll be taking a weekly look at bad movies every Thursday, right up until Turkey Day, itself. Until then, enjoy this:
Well, between Top Girls and my anti-bullying diatribe, I very nearly forgot all about Shocktober.
I have a list all ready to go of the Horror Movie Directors I want to talk about this month, and I will hopefully get to all of them, just not until Sunday, probably. Of course, I'll hopefully be tossing in my reviews of Let Me In, Case 39 and a few others as they come along. I just won't be able to be as obsessive about getting in a post a night, this year. And really, a little less obsession is probably a good thing.
I had so much fun he last time I posted about Inappropriate Soundtracks, I thought I'd share some more with you. Of course, part of that comes out of my being so tired, I really don't have a whole lot else to talk about. Once the show is over and I get back to more regular schedule, you can expect more of my usual.
Now, I'm sure you're all sick to death of hearing about Top Girls (though I'll be posting about it at least one more time before the show closes) and I haven't seen a movie in what seems like 10,000 years and I haven't seen enough of the new fall TV season to review any of the new shows properly (though I think I'll be talking about "The Event" once I've seen the second episode). So, rather than tax my own brain by trying to be witty and clever about nothing, here are some more Inappropriate Soundtrack clips that made me laugh. Oh, and our very evil clown friend there? Just something to grab your attention while I blather on about nonsense. Enjoy:
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
The Fugitive
Blade Runner
The Road Warrior
The Terminator
And finally, here's an entire Inappropriate Trailer:
So, tonight is Top Girls opening night and we're still looking for a few small props. Our producer headed out to the Dollar Store today in search of brandy snifters. She didn't find them, but did come across the inexplicable item in the photo your right, which she snapped with her phone and immediately shared with me and the cast. But I have to know, what the hell is it?
It appears to be the last one, which says to me that several people plunked down their hard-earned dollar and bought one of these, whatever they are. I guess its a toy, but it seems incomplete. And is it a dinosaur? An alien? Jar Jar Binks' disabled cousin? I mean really... What the hell is it? Any ideas?
Anyway, Uncle P is in the midst of a change-of-season sinus infection, making what should be a terrific day, a miserable one. I'm loaded up on decongestants and pain relievers and hoping that Opening Night adrenaline will kick in and make me forget about it by curtain, tonight.
If you know what that thing is, or have a funny idea of what it might be, let me know.
I don't know who this woman is, but she has become an internet sensation, twice. And I love her.
First, she hit the net as an eyewitness to a robbery at a Kansas City gas station, and then again as... well, you'll see.
First up is her interview with a KNBC reporter, describing what happened during the robbery.
After you watch the first clip, I'm sure you'll be able to associate her with at least one person you know. I can associate her with at least 4, but that's what 30+ years of being in the theatre does to one.
And barely a day after the video hit the net, there is this little bit of genius:
Which was quickly followed by:
And this:
I don't honestly remember a faster spreading meme...
I had a very long, crazy day at the day job and then an intense rehearsal tonight, so I'm off to bed. I hope I was able to bring a smile to your face and a giggle to your lips (that sounded unintentionally dirty, somehow). Have a great Wednesday.
I've been directing for longer than many of my Top Girls actresses have been alive (a fact that is somewhat distressing in and of itself), but I have never before encountered a play that raises more questions than it answers. And, truth be told, Caryl Churchill really doesn't seem interested in answering any of the questions she raises in Top Girls, leaving them instead, up to her audiences to decide.
Of course, art is subjective and should inspire conversation and debate. The human condition may well be constant, but its motives, inspirations and afflictions are myriad. And therein lies the conundrum of Top Girls. Caryl Churchill may well leave the questions up to the audience to decide, but a director and cast must answer at least some of them to create a cohesive and meaningful production.
Pressed by my producer to come up with a Director's Note for this production's program in time to go to press, I found myself (for once), at sea. Regular readers know that Uncle P is rarely one at a lack for words when it comes to expressing my opinions. But my opinions on this particular play are so diverse, it was nigh on impossible to come up with only one page's worth of discussion. In the end, I decided to focus on Churchill's attention on the need for social responsibility and how those that are 'Top Girls' need to be aware of, and nurture those who are not.
Art is one of the few things that connects humans to one another. For all our differences, be they religious; political; sexual or ideological, we all share the need to be productive members of the society in which we live. How we arrive at achieving that goal may vary, but it is ultimately our artistic expressions that connect us to one another.
Of course, all this may very well be idealistic bullshit, in which case I should stop directing and just become a mindless sheep... or not.
Wow! This entire post now seems little more to me an exercise in semantic masturbation, than anything worth really saying. I wouldn't blame any of you if never read another word I wrote...
To make up for it, here's some gratutious violence:
While that was truly awful, I somehow feel so much better.
So, we've finally started some real blocking on Top Girls. It's the first scene of the play, a sort-of fantasy dinner celebrating Marlene's (the main character) promotion. She is joined by five historical/literary characters including Victorian traveler Isabella Byrd; Pope Joan; Buddhist nun Lady Nijo; Bruegel's Dull Gret and Patient Grizelda from the Canterbury Tales. They're talking (sometimes all at once) and drinking and carrying on throughout the scene.
We stopped for a moment to clarify something and someone asks, "So what are we doing when we aren't speaking?"
"Eating," was my answer. So we pick up the scene again and three of my six actresses immediately break into "Nom-nom-nom-nom..." sending all of us into fits of laughter over the dumbest Internet meme, ever. It could only have been better if they'd actually sung the song:
I feel like I have to apologize for last night's rant. Uncle P isn't exactly sure what set him off. We all have our moments, don't we? And while I don't exactly feel like Batman riding a rainbow unicorn over a purple sea of frolicking dolphins, I'm certainly in a better mood tonight.
I think it has something to do with yet another terrific rehearsal with my very smart cast. Top Girls is proving to be the most challenging play I have ever directed. Not that I didn't know that going in - just reading the damned thing is a challenge. Still, playwright Caryl Churchill raises questions without answers, leaving it up to the audience to answer them for themselves. Of course, that means the director and cast have to provide their own answers, whether they are the same as the audience's or not. It's most definitely the kind of play that uses the subjectivity of art to its fullest extent. Right now we're still doing a lot of discussing and sussing, trying to arrive at our own answers as we explore this multi-layered play.
Of course, it could just be my mood was elevated by a friend who posted the video below on Facebook, tonight. I love synchronicity, and the whole Queen theme that seems to have invaded my life these past few days has to mean something...
I still have two days left of my vacation, but this has been a most amusing and amazing week.
The picture to your left is Uncle P's newest tattoo. This one is on my right calf and a little more (actually, a lot more) vertical than it seems in this picture. I suppose that can happen when one takes a photo of one's own calf... I got it because it represents not just an ancient culture, but is also probably one of the most unusual Yin-Yang symbols I have ever seen. Uncle P is big on ancient cultures (see my Egyptian ink). I've already decided that my next one will be Aztec or Inca. And I know it looks red and irritated (and there's even a little blood), but the picture was taken just a few hours after it was done, yesterday afternoon. It looks a lot better, today.
The new ink was my birthday present to myself; a tradition that started last last year and will probably continue for a few more.
So this vacation started with Friday night drinks with a dear friend I haven't seen in several years (she moved to MA for a job a few years ago). Then Saturday night was Inception with two other dear friends, followed by a trip to Coney Island on my actual birthday, Sunday. Below is a shot of some of the insane rides at the new Luna Park. The rides at Coney are rather expensive, so we only rode a few, but we still managed to have a fantastic time. We ate lunch at Nathan's, saw the Sideshow by the Seashore and just had ourselves a grand time. If you're a Facebook Friend, you can see more Coney Island pics, there. If you aren't, let me know and I'll add you. Monday and Tuesday could hardly compare, though I did manage to reorganize my bathroom cabinet (a bigger job than you can imagine) and steam-clean the whole bathroom. Woo-hoo! So exciting!
My next big adventure was meeting my little angel, Matty in Seaside Heights (yes, I know) for dinner and fireworks on the beach. I grew up going to Seaside as a kid, and must admit that it is smaller and dingier than I remember... Still, Matty and I had a grand time strolling the boards and looking for hot guys (there weren't many).
Which brings me to Thursday and my new ink; once again at Living Arts Tattoo in New Hope, PA. For those not familiar, New Hope is sort of Pennsylvania's Provincetown. Clean, comfortable and staffed by the nicest (and best) tattoo artists in the region, Living Arts is the only place I will ever get inked. My first tatt was from a rival shop in the same town, and while I was satisfied with their work, their demeanor and general customer service was poor, at best. The guys at Living Arts are just terrific, and I highly recommend them, should you be so inclined to use their services.
Then tonight was an informal gathering of folks I recently reconnected with at my HS reunion last fall. We drank, we ate and we all complained that we are closer to the half-century mark than any of us would like to admit. Still, we look fabulous and a great time was had by all.
I still have two days left before I have to return to my day job. Who knows what adventures await (though I'm thinking 'not many')?
I know I've promised a giant post on The Zombie Zone, and that is coming, tomorrow. And I'll be back to my usual nonsense come Sunday.
More, anon. Prospero
PS - Todaywould have been my father's 72nd birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad, wherever you may be...
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This is a postcard from Luna Park, Coney Island's Premiere Attraction in the early 20th Century. Uncle P is so obsessed with the accounts of the attractions at Luna Park, he wrote an as yet un-scored musical about it and it's founders.
Since it's after midnight here, it is officially my Birthday. And if you must know,I amOld Enough to Know Better and Young Enough to Say 'F**k It' and Do It Anyway, Bitches! I have been this age for quite some time now and expect to remain this age for quite some time yet (or at least, I hope to).
Several of Uncle P's dearest friends, including D, K, Q and Dale - as well as some old college buddies he hasn't seen in ages are joining me for an adventure to a place I've never been and I can't wait. I'll post pics and stories... eventually.
And for the curious, here's some footage of the original Luna Park, shot in 1903:
The boat ride was called the Shoot the Chutes and it's obvious there was more thought given to thrills than to safety. The pile-up on the slide at the end would be a tragic accident, today. Still, the story of how that amazing place came to be is just as fascinating as the place, itself.
