A Study in Disconnect

This week, I saw a relatively new musical, It Shoulda Been You. It was a fairly mixed bag. The first problem was the book, which was about as fresh as an episode of The Honeymooners, or at least My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It was about stereotypes from sitcoms dating back as recently as 1972. It was definitely skewed to a "safe" humor, as opposed to being edgy and insightful. It was all about a wedding between a Jew and a Catholic, and then there is a twist at the end of the first half that kicks the second half, and the whole musical, into gear.

The main problem the musical has is that the first half sucks. HARD. It is supposed to have the feeling of the classic zany hectic day of wedding where minor things go wrong. Sort of like the feel that Sylvester Stallone's classic Oscar, but with pauses for stale jokes, and with song & dance...all of which takes the pacing down by 50%. I felt genuinely embarassed for the actors as they seemed almost embarassed that it was bombing hard. And, while the majority of the problem was the writing, the direction was no small part of this problem. He could have zoomed through the first half in half the time. Scratch that, he SHOULD have ramped it up.

The second half, though, is banging. I mean, it was like night and day. The pace feels ramped up, the jokes stop being cliche and stale, and the overall feel updated from 1950s to early 2000s. There are more than a few showstopping numbers and the whole thing feels more...real.

The acting and singing, however, was phenomenal. The cast was leagues better than the material they were given, which sucks. Kat Ramsburg as the focal point wedding arranger contact/sister of the bride shines in her comedic abilities and has a brilliant Jenny's Blues number that was one of the great showstoppers that has existed. It also opens with a great ironic adorkakul showstopper from the secondary characters of best man and co-maid-of-honor that rips through every single style of musical and tears them to shreds, in the best way that one could think of. And, Leslie Law gave her best, but the material she had was just atrocious. Lawd almighty.

This is the show's second outing. The first was apparently in New Jersey directed by David Hyde Pierce, which apparently opened to the same reaction I had.

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Tonight, I see David Schmader's one-man show A Short Term Solution to a Long Term Problem, which has been playing at the Hugo House for months. Tomorrow I see Dina Martina's Ample Wattage, which should be AMAZING. And, Tuesday, Schmader is putting up Showgirls again, which, if I can get a crowd to, I will be watching again.

I don't think I've ever been so pissed and frustrated in my life. I think I've been stuck with the flightiest account manager ever.

So, back in January, my company cancelled their 401(k), so I went to BECU to roll over into a Roth IRA, and also to start investing in a normal IRA.

I had my first appointment in February. And, then processed the paperwork as fast as I could (which was 1 business day).

I thought the check was going straight from the 401(k) to the IRA company (BlackRock), but instead it took 3 weeks before the check finally came to me. The account dude didn't tell me it would take this long, and so I sent it off middle of March to BlackRock, or two weeks ago Wednesday.

In the meantime, he's been telling me something about a minimum investment, maybe, he doesn't know, he'll check in on it. For months. So, I've been putting money into a separate savings account in order for it to be taken out of the savings account (as well as saving some extra money in there).

So, finally, last week, I started to lose my cool. When i made the call to check where I'm supposed to send my check, he told me he'd e-mail me the address. He didn't. Then, I called him during my lunch hour, and he tried to get me to wait while he got it so I could write it down. Instead, I had him e-mail me, and it took 4 hours for him to get around to that.

Then, a week after I sent it out, he didn't respond with an account number or ID. So, I e-mailed him with no response. So, I called him and he said he'd be out for a week with surgery, and I should call this other person.

This other person has been nice and receptive. but, my guy...so flaky. WORST ACCOUNT MANAGER EVER.

The worst part is that I now don't know where my check is because it isn't in my account yet!

GAH!

SO PISSED.

My copy of The Hunger Games arrived on Monday. I'm 110 pages into it, and the only person who died is the father in flashback. We have 23 deaths to go!!! It is a toned down straight forward version of Battle Royale, which came out in 1999 in US and Japan. Battle Royale was about a corrupt government which had been rebelled against by the youth, and to control them they passed a law that would select one senior-level class at a time for a Battle Royale, in which the students would fight to the death on an abandoned island.

So far, the main difference is that The Hunger Games eases you into the concept with a whole training camp and telling you about the government and the history up front, and the games start about 130 pages in. Battle Royale kicks off almost from page 1 and doesn't let up for 600+ pages. People have said that The Hunger Games is fast paced. It isn't. It's breezy, but it doesn't rocket off like Battle Royale did, where it had to average a death every 15 pages (and had a counter).

The movie Battle Royale is also a bullet train, which I got the blu ray of. The blu ray is the first time it has been made legitimately available in the US, despite being a cult hit already. And, it looks a whole hell of a lot better than the bootlegs I used to watch in the early '00s. The movie doesn't compare to the book, in that the movie eschewed all politics and deeper meaning for a nice speedy plot-point following death by death account, but it still is hilarious.

But, back to The Hunger Games. I like it. It's not fantastic, but it is kids killing kids. It seems to have all humor drained from it. And, where it started off as a slog like Cormac McCarthy's The Road, it has turned into a breezy Richard Bachman (Stephen King's alter ego)-style Young Adult book (not The Regulators Bachman, but Rage or The Running Man Bachman). But, still nobody has died.

And, the plot is 6 parts Battle Royale, 3 parts The Long Walk, and 1 part The Running Man (original)...the latter two of which are Bachman books. Stir vigorously, set to simmer, take down to a Young Adult level, and voila...ready to be a national best seller.

Speaking of Arnold Schwarzenegger sci-fi (he was in the movie version of The Running Man), have you guys seen the commentary of Total Recall? It's bad. SO BAD. SO BAD ITS GOOD.

This weekend was really really good to me.

On Monday, I had found out that the Brown Derby Series was back last weekend (one weekend only shows every time), and they were doing Xanadu! As I have a love it-love it relationship with Xanadu, and a OMG, LOVE relationship with Brown Derby, I knew this was a match made in heaven. IO re-watched Xanadu on Thursday, when I came to two realizations. 1) The movie seems like it is 4 hours long. 2) The movie is really a series of music videos strung together by a non-plot.

So, even though I was exhausted, Friday night, I went to the Brown Derby re-enactment of Xanadu, which was really good, especially the second act. I loved that Olivia Newton John was played by a guy with a deep voice whose character they named Carl. The soundtrack was spot on (lyrics to Don't Walk Away, "And now they've turned into FISH. FISH. What the fuck, they just turned into fish?!"), especially when they eschewed Suspended in Time for Grease's Hopelessly Devoted ("And, here is where Olivia Newton John sings a song that is terrible. Even in the movie it really just doesn't work. So, we've replaced it with a song from Grease.") And, all in all, one is left to wonder...when your schtick is to gay up a movie, how does one gay up an already gay movie? I mean, besides turning Gene Kelly into a weird old gay creep. And, the answer is, you really can't, so you might as well critique the movie ("Come on, let's get this plot moving finally" or, regarding Magic, "And, here is where we get a song that is just really strange. It doesn't move the plot along, build the characters, or anything. It's just there. So, we included it.").

Saturday night, I went and saw mstegosaurus perform for PANK magazine. His performance (with Fiddleback) was really good. Some of the best stuff I've seen him do in ages. And then went out with him and Adams as well as their friend whose name escapes me now, and talked the night away while a lot of people went to The Cuff for the 19th anniversary which sounded all too packed and supposedly had entirely too much Brandon. By which I mean any at all.

Sunday, was the crowning achievement of this arty weekend was going to Tacoma for their display of Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in Portraiture. Now, you guys on the west coast had a display of this in Brooklyn and at the Smithsonian, and if you missed it, shame on you. It was the most fascinating, funny, and haunting, show I think I've seen. Romaine Brooks' self portrait was astoundingly moody and almost gothic. It's haunting, and just one of the best self-portraits I have ever seen. They say its lesbian encoded, but what I saw was also a lot of hiding and moodiness. It made me sad, and after I went through the whole gallery, I went and sat by this self-portrait.

Unfortunately, we didn't get Romaine Brooke's portrait of Carl Van Vechten which was AMAZING in the book they left out. It cast Van Vechten as an old white dude sitting on a high backed chair that had black boy's faces peering out of it, a commentary on VV's hetero marriage but well-known tendency to get escorts from uptown.

The two other great paintings were Thomas Eakins' Salutat and which was, quite frankly, HILARIOUS (late 1800s and the guy paints a kid wearing practically nothing going off to box showing off his assets and hetero guys clapping for him), and Paul Cadmus' What I Believe which was kind of like one of those children's picture mystery novels. It had clues upon clues upon clues in the tiniest details. The clouds formed a question mark, and there was a zombie coming out from the ground, there was a self-portrait. It was amazing.

The thing I noticed is that after we came out of the closet, the art started getting more and more encoded even though it was getting gayer and gayer. It was like we abandoned one set of codes for another. The meanings of the art started getting enshrouded in satire, repetition, irony and pop culture. Yes, Jasper Johns, Andy Warhol and Mapplethorpe were there. And, I loved Johns' work, more and more. But, none of it compared to what had happened before in the encoding. Some of the more straightforward, post-AIDS, work was breathtaking. AA Bronson's Felix, an over-oversized painting of an AIDS patient after he died after wasting away is immediately tearjerking.

Anyways, if you're in the Seatac area, you need to see it...if you're not, the National Portrait Gallery has a decent website that offers a brief look at the portraits, and The Stranger has been showcasing some of the art not included on the NPG site, (some of which I mentioned here).

And, to top it off, Monday I watched two documentaries, "The Thin Blue Line" which was frustrating about how people can lie to save their own skin and not care about the other. And, Exit Through the Gift Shop.

Exit Through the Gift Shop is a lark that is both awesome and infuriating. Its about the white portion of street art (post co-option...since it never mentions the origins as it isn't in the scope of the film). It is also either about a crazy dude who made himself into an overnight success by co-opting EVERYBODY's work if it is true, or one of the greatest business cards for a commercial art factory if it isn't. The subject of the film is Mr. Brainwash, who would be best known to most of you for doing the cover of Madonna's Celebration Greatest Hits collection. No, really. This was after he did an art showing by hiring artists and printing art...which was 6 months after giving up filmmaking. But, his work is derivative crap...and the artists seem to know it, but he made it. Did I say derivative crap? It's well done derivative crap. One of the more frequently shown work series in the film is a series of Warhol-esque screens of new famous celebrities in Marilyn Monroe's hair. John Waters did this already, by doing a series of serious movie moments and putting Farrah Fawcett hair on the frame (my favorite being the Wicked Witch of the West). MBW commodified it. In Exit Through the Gift Shop, Banksy points out that Andy Warhol took iconic images and made them meaningless through repetition; Mr. Brainwash, he charges, has made such images even more meaningless. It's brilliant. GO WATCH.

Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho was a book that took the reading world and chopped off its head. No, really, this was a book that was so violent, so misogynistic, so graphic and depraved, that it was rejected by its original publisher, and had to be picked up by another. It ruled in academia, and even spawned a movie, which has barely overshadowed the book (a rarity).

I read it before the movie in the fall/winter of 1999. It was one of the first books I read in college on my own, though it was far from the first book of depravity I had ever read. Stephen King fascinated me in the 5th grade (and I read him on and off through the summer before college), Clive Barker was one of the first positive gay experiences I had ever read (In the Hills , the Cities from his Books of Blood collection), Trainspotting, and A Clockwork Orange were both read by the time I was 16. Heck, in the 9th grade, I wrote a finale to the Monkey's Paw that was just so visceral and damning that I was surprised I read it in class.

When I read American Psycho, it was hilarious. It was shocking, and it was so petty. I mean, the sheer violence in that short story I wrote is the only other piece I have ever read to the sheer violence in American Psycho. I say this not as "look how brutal I am" but as "the violence in American Psycho was so over-the-top that 9th graders with no limits are the only ones who compare."

And, really, we start to get at the heart of American Psycho. The first time I read it, I read it as some rich yuppie who just had violent tendencies. It's a first-person narrative which practically begs you to empathize with this drug-using, name-dropping, social-status-worshipping rich asshole who hates women and poor people and commits brutal gruesome murders for fun. It begs you to skim through its shallowness and see that this person is just a shallow everyday yuppie.

A lot of people think its just about the sick fantasies of a power-hungry corporate guy who rules the financial world. The murders are the focus and they're just his own dreams and escapisms that he thinks are real.

But, really, its deeper than that. This is no everyday Mergers and Acquisitions guy. This guy is a yuppie loser. He goes out with models who deem him socially inadequate. Everybody he knows thinks he is a sad sack of shit. The only people whom he hangs out with are a group of social idiots high on their own sense of self worth, and they even think he's a carbon copy asshole. Half of them can't even get his name right. He's a complete square, and most people won't even give him the time of day. This is the guy whom you made fun of in high school, and in college, but now has a bit of power and still is a bland asshole who is trying too hard to be somebody and failing miserably. And his flights of fancy are his way of dreaming his own control back into his life.

The first time around, I didn't realize it because I was too busy empathizing with all the "I" statements. He hates everybody in the book. He thinks he's better than everybody. The first time around, it feels like it is just ego that is making that the case. The second time around, I am asking "But, why is that?" with more seriousness. The answer is "because he is rejecting them after they reject him." He fantasizes about killing poor people after being humiliated. He fantasizes about violently raping his old girlfriend Bethany after she says she's dating the chef at Dorsia (the restaurant he obsesses over but can't get into) and displays her Platinum AmEx, a financial status symbol. He fantasizes about killing a guy who has an account he wants desperately because he can't figure out how to get it himself. He's a virtual symbol of inadequacy.

In looking up American Psycho today, before writing all this this, Ellis said in a 2010 interview: "[Patrick Bateman] did not come out of me sitting down and wanting to write a grand sweeping indictment of yuppie culture. It initiated because my own isolation and alienation at a point in my life. I was living like Patrick Bateman. I was slipping into a consumerist kind of void that was supposed to give me confidence and make me feel good about myself but just made me feel worse and worse and worse about myself. That is where the tension of "American Psycho" came from. It wasn't that I was going to make up this serial killer on Wall Street. High concept. Fantastic. It came from a much more personal place, and that's something that I've only been admitting in the last year or so. I was so on the defensive because of the reaction to that book that I wasn't able to talk about it on that level."

Huh. Its a potent read-through, even moreso than the first time around.

So, I finally got down to watching the 1982 PBS release of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, my favorite musical of all time. And, it was surprisingly dank and sludgey. I loved it! Except for Angela Lansbury. She stuck out of the production like a sore thumb.

Where everybody was in a dark sickly satire of sludge and much, Angela Lansbury was playing to the cheap seats in a boisterously over-the-top quirkiness. She was in her own quirky musical somewhere else off broadway. Maybe that was the point...as I've read she was supposed to be a music hall classic. But, she didn't fit. The musical is hilarious enough without her doing strange little jigs and acting like she was doing vaudeville.

Maybe she owned that role like that because this type of black satire was uncommon back then on Broadway? To settle in the "Pearl Clutching" crowd? I don't know. I just know her acting was not to my tastes for what a Mrs. Lovett should be like.

But, Lansbury had some pipes. I loved her voice. When she's singing, she's amazing. Hearing her go through some of those notes are heaven.

Compare this to Helena Bonham Carter in the film version of Sweeney Todd. Girl owned the role of Mrs. Lovett, but she couldn't sing worth a damned. Her Mrs. Lovett was a comedic performance of emotional depth which elevated the sludge into something more icky, which is amazing for Sweeney Todd. But, her vocals were god awful. She's not a singer.

In my opinion, Mrs. Lovett should be quirky, but in a semi-self-pitying way. Somebody who has a cynical sense of humor but isn't in her own world. Mrs. Lovett is not a music-hall vaudvillian. She's just as brutal as Sweeney Todd...maybe even more so since she goes along with the plan cheerily.

Now, its well known that Sweeney Todd is one of the hardest singing roles to do. But, this dichotomy begs the question:

Which is more important in a musical: Acting or Singing?

If you missed last night's PR, you missed the worst episode ever, with the best reason for watching ever.

The plot of the episode was "FASTEST CHALLENGE IN PROJECT RUNWAY HISTORY!" This is awful for such obvious reasons...including: who wants to watch a runway of rushed, shitty, unfinished designs? Because THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED!! I liked not a single dress. Michael C's looked like somebody crossed a marshmallow with a satin mauve pillow. Mondo's design was a gay Irish Flag caftan that would have looked appropriate in the Kabuki Finale of Mahogany. The only one that looked finished was Kenley's ready-to-wear Kenley dress made by Kenley. Gah...it was awful.

But, the best reason for watching was Rami in a tanktop the whole episode. His nice big muscle arms, his hairy chest, his scruff...*swoon*. Take me now, close-to-my-age-daddy. *unf* Can we get a "clothes off your back" challenge except we don't give the designers replacement clothing, so they have to do the challenge naked? You can put the uncensored version on the internet. Chockful of Rami clips.

Best comment of the night comes from Anthony: “This has nothing to do with being a talented designer. This has to do with being a fast seamstress.”

Second best goes to Jerell, calling Kara's dress a "Pregnant cupcake." Sometimes, not terribly often, but sometimes the designer's catty criticisms is Spot On.

I'm sick again [I really hate my next door desk neighbor at work], and I'm on my 9th day in a row at work. But, on to better topics.

I have said that this year was a terrible year for mainstream movies. And, now that the Oscar nominations are out, and the Golden Globes are done and over...I can say that this year WAS a terrible year for film. Of the 9 nominees, we have 4 nominees of emotional Oscar bait pap (The Descendants, War Horse, The Help, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close), 4 movies that pander to film geeks...badly (The Artist, Midnight in Paris, The Tree of Life, Hugo [OK, this wasn't bad...the blue/orange color scheme just pisses me off]), and then the outsider (Moneyball).

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

The only interesting, not documentary, nominees are: Rooney Mara for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (GIVE IT TO HER NOW!!!), Jonah Hill for Moneyball, and Melissa McCarthy for Bridesmaids.

The docu nominees are interesting because of 2 nominations: Wim Wender's Pina which looks utterly hypnotizing [see trailer below] and Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory, about the West Memphis 3...famous for being the metal boys accused and convicted of horrific crimes.

Anyways, here's Pina. I can't wait for it to come out.

So, my company decided to get rid of their 401(k) plan. I wasn't initially pissed about this, as it has been kind of losing money for the past couple of years and the company never matched.

But, I had been investing something like $10.5k a year in it. Now, I find out I can only invest up to $5k in an IRA. So, um...what do I do with the other post-tax $3k (ish)? Move it into CDs?

Also, killing the 401(k) would have been better as the economy was crumbling...not after it has crumbled and is trying to comeback. We already lost the money!

Anyways, I'm just frustrated...I hate research...

OMG...exhausted!

Last night I had Restless Leg Syndrome so hardcore, worse than most times I've had it. I think I kicked myself awake like 4-6 times throughout the night. Because, then I'd be awake and freezing. I dunno why I felt cold, either. But, I was when I woke up.

So, today I'm exhausted. All I want to do is pass out here on my desk. *headthump* And, my legs are Sore. Well, maybe just tender. But, they are all "Hey...masseuse?"

...

At the gym, there is this total soccer mom whom I have subliminally connected with on a totally suburban gym level. When I say total soccer mom, I mean she has decent hair that doesn't seem to get sweaty...new looking sneakers...sweatshirt, t-shirt and jogging pants straight out of one of those catalogs. It's weird because I've just got my usual print t-shirts, and shiny gym shorts. I used to have my ratty-ass navy blue tennies, but now I have my garish new red and purple sneakers. And, I'm generally unshaven and unkempt with sweaty hair and sweat seeping through my shirt. I dunno how or why we connected, nor why I haven't really connected with one of the 2-4 hotties there.

Generally, we workout at the same times. Like weekdays around 5:30-ish. There are a few others who are more quiet and less outgoing. And, The way we connect is we mainly look out for each other and briefly encourage each other. Its a strange totally suburban connection.

Anyways, we hadn't seen each other for a month because I got sick for a week, then had break then she got sick and had two weeks off. But, last night, she saw me (I didn't see her because I got out of work late...6:00). And, I was already on the machines (the row pull one...upper body last night), when she stopped by and commented on the progress I'd made. Random compliments from people always make me feel good. YAY encouragement.

ETA: Today, at our meeting, the PA girl commented, "Chris, wow! Did you lose like a lot of weight all of a sudden?" Yeah...all of a sudden? Psh. Still. More encouragement.

But, it doesn't make me any less sleepy!!!