tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372404932024-03-06T03:47:12.593-05:00the sobsisterWhere the elite meet to beat the heat<p>
</p>the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.comBlogger322125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-72473169449982425712014-09-21T12:07:00.001-04:002014-09-21T12:07:23.026-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b>Seurat? Seurat, Dept.</b><br />
<br />
I
was fortunate enough to see last night's performance of this sold-out
revival of a Sondheim favorite <em>Sunday in the Park with George</em> at the intimate Signature Theatre. Fourth row
left, but not a bad seat in the house. The leads, Claybourne Elder and
Brynn O'Malley, are terrific, bringing a new fire and rawness to the
show's central relationship, which is saying a lot for roles that were
originated by Bernadette Peters and Mandy Patinkin.<br />
<br />
I last saw a
production during the Sondheim festival at the Kennedy Center in 2002.
At that time, Melissa Errico and Raul Esparza played Dot and George in a
terrific, well-staged revival. But Signature's smaller scale is
perfect as a showcase for a show that's ultimately about a painting as
the frame for the relationship between two people.<br />
<br />
And to watch, 20 feet away, George arrange the dozen characters onstage into the positions they finally assume in <em>A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte</em> as they sing "Sunday," one of Sondheim's most moving anthems, is a breathcatching moment.<br />
<br />
BONUS
SOBSISTER SONDHEIM REALIZATION: Here's my OMG moment for the day: While
researching the 2002 revival, I noticed that, among the cast of <em>A Little Night Music--</em>which, along with <em>Sunday...</em>,
was one of the six plays produced for the Sondheim Celebration--was a
Kristen Bell as "Fredrika Armfeldt." It couldn't be that...I mean...I
saw that production and...really? But sure enough: Ms. Bell played that
role two years before she broke out as TV's <em><span>Veronica Mars</span></em><span>.</span><br />
<br />
<span>DOUBLE BONUS SOBSISTER SONDHEIM REALIZATION: Here's my even-bigger OMG moment for the day: 2002 Sondheim Celebration. <em>Company</em>.
Which I also saw and is one of my--and many people's--Sondheim faves.
The lead role of "Bobby" was played at that time by...John Barrowman. <strong>John "Captain Jack Harness" Barrowman?!! Are you freakin' kidding me?!?! </strong>Now, granted, this was three years before his first appearance as that character on <em>Doctor Who</em>, but, dang, I guess precognition is not my mutant power.</span><br />
<br />
<span>TRIPLE
BONUS SOBSISTER NON-SONDHEIM REALIZATION: The sidewalk outside
Signature Theatre was jam-packed with high-schoolers, 60?, 70? of them.
My friend, who was the kind and generous soul who bought the tickets,
and I were more than a little concerned that they would be attending <em>Sunday</em>...
and swamping the small space. Sure enough, we took our seats, and in
came the teens, chittering, giggling, waving at each other across the
space. I was even less optimistic at that point, thinking that the
performance would be punctuated by texting, whispering and endless
fidgeting. And...your sobsister was completely dead wrong. The show,
which, as a meditation on art and creativity, ain't exactly <em>Hairspray </em>or <em>Wicked</em>,
engaged the entire audience from the late-middle-aged gay couple eighth
row center to the row of African-American teen girls right in front of
them. And everyone stood to appreciate the cast with applause and
cheers at show's end. So, bully for these kids and their teachers, and
shame on me for (mis)judging books by their covers. A lovely evening
was had by all.</span><br />
<br />
<br />the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-54506687051614084372014-08-03T15:32:00.001-04:002014-08-03T15:32:48.709-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6XOKRC8Y2Rz8xtd4NP8gHQ7HkW1Ocnhb5MG6h5UApjDbJvVeuR4ATfoS6_-SR5y248TwJwz0KhuGPZwOtkXHYNHia-A8f39fMTAgafPv9p2wCDg4LLHVfzXiNNgZwPC2tcW6/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-08-03+at+2.21.52+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6XOKRC8Y2Rz8xtd4NP8gHQ7HkW1Ocnhb5MG6h5UApjDbJvVeuR4ATfoS6_-SR5y248TwJwz0KhuGPZwOtkXHYNHia-A8f39fMTAgafPv9p2wCDg4LLHVfzXiNNgZwPC2tcW6/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-08-03+at+2.21.52+PM.png" height="640" width="436" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Losers and Winners, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
Poster for <em>Guardians of the Galaxy</em> (2014)<br />
<br />
So your
sobsister caught this one in >>>3D IMAX<<< yesterday
a.m. And, yeah, it really is as charming as the reviews may have led
you to believe.<br />
<br />
Five "losers," i.e., each has lost something
important to him/her/it, but, truth be told, they're not exactly a bunch
of overachievers either, band together, at first unwillingly, to
recover a thing (something important in the Big Story Arc that Marvel is
constructing among its Disney titles but also a MacGuffin) in order to
make a spaceboatful of money.<br />
<br />
If you're familiar with the Marvel
Universe, seeing long-time villains such as Ronan the Accuser and Thanos
(played, respectively, by Lee Pace and Josh Brolin; Pace particularly
terrific) is a kick. Karen "Amy Pond" GIllan as Thanos' daughter Nebula
is perfect. Dave Bautista, who, I just learned, is a pro wrestler,
does a great job as Drax the Destroyer--like "real actor"-great, not
"ironic novelty casting"-great. The two animated characters--Groot, a
rather tall ambulatory tree who can only say "I am Groot," and Rocket,
an itchy-fingered enhanced raccoon on the grift--are voiced,
respectively, by Vin Diesel and Bradley Cooper and, surprisingly, are
the heart of the movie. Sci-fi blockbuster queen Zoe Saldana is Thanos'
other daughter, Gamora, whom daddy likes better than Nebula, which sets
up a scene or two. She's a killing machine who runs up against/into
Chris Pratt's Peter Quill, a kid from the '70s abducted by aliens who
grows into a wisecracking Indiana Jones treasure collector-meets-Han
Solo interstellar lover boy. There's some heteronormative
boy-meets-alien/alien-kicks-boy's-ass/boy-charms-alien byplay between
Quill and Gamora, but, really, there's just so much other stuff going on
that it's, like, fourth or fifth in line in terms of meaningful
character relationships.<br />
<br />
That's just a start of a summary. Throw
in the most comic Marvel screenplay to date, a primo '70s AM soundtrack,
a flock of other guest stars (Glenn Close, Benicio del Toro, John C.
Reilly), excellent FX and design, and a <strong>very </strong>unexpected cameo after the credits (no, not Stan Lee), and you've got the best Marvel flick since the first Iron Man movie or <em>The Avengers</em>.<br />
<br />
<em>GotG </em>has
shattered the record for an August opening by $25+M and will likely
benefit from a lot of multiple viewings/good word-of-mouth over the next
few weeks. That Marvel could hit one out of the park with a property
unknown to all save fanboys says everything about the strength of the
casting, acting and directing as well as the imperishable value of an
entertaining movie rooted in character rather than eye candy. I didn't
know what to expect beyond the trailer, and I was charmed, tickled and
even moved. Looking forward to DC's explanation about why it can't do a
Wonder Woman feature after <em>GotG</em>, not even in Marvel's second tier of heroes, can crush the summer season.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-66275411340392210012014-04-20T14:50:00.000-04:002014-04-20T14:50:21.166-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbeZGCrDLLaPvXXISnUF9ELSLk0sn7Aby5ixydw91eNuXkWPzdCCu4-bB6Ijl5_xo_PpmQ6yJpYbiwcoUriJqYvZEvBUUYNlk5KhB5KE-IZTejHABKTxDLaueVns3cNJlFomf/s1600/easter+2014.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbeZGCrDLLaPvXXISnUF9ELSLk0sn7Aby5ixydw91eNuXkWPzdCCu4-bB6Ijl5_xo_PpmQ6yJpYbiwcoUriJqYvZEvBUUYNlk5KhB5KE-IZTejHABKTxDLaueVns3cNJlFomf/s1600/easter+2014.png" height="268" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>This Bong Kills Fascists, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
Another 4/20--Where <strong>does</strong> the time go? This year,
however, it's not just Nazis and nugs, as this momentous day falls on
Easter Sunday. So, let's think a little about that, shall we?<br />
Adolf
Hitler, born today in 1889--125th anniversary!--was a bad man whose
teachings have been used to oppress people and sow hatred since his
death.<br />
<br />
Cannabis, with us since the Garden of Eden, is an herb
about which propaganda has been used to oppress people and sow hatred
since Mexicans brought it into the United States.<br />
<br />
What's that?,
you may ask. Anti-drug propaganda used to sow hatred? Tragically true,
dear friends. Here's some 1937 congressional testimony from the head
of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, Harry Anslinger:<br />
<blockquote>
I
wish I could show you what a small marihuana cigarette can do to one of
our degenerate Spanish-speaking residents. That’s why our problem is so
great; the greatest percentage of our population is composed of
Spanish-speaking persons, most of who are low mentally, because of
social and racial conditions.</blockquote>
Oh, if only Fox News had existed back in the '30s! Well, it did, actually, but it was called the Reichs-Rundfunk-Gesellschaft.<br />
<br />
Tying
this together, in the course of my research online, I found a number of
folks who are, in fact, celebrating Der Führer's ("Der" to his friends)
natal day. Mostly on sites such as Vanguard News Network (slogan: No
Jews. Just Right.--<em>I only wish I were kidding)</em>, where, on one posting celebrating the birth of Mrs. Schicklgruber's little boy, the following statement was made:<br />
<blockquote>
If Hitler had won we wouldn't be seeing the human garbage displayed here:<br /> <a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%22Happy%20420%22&src=tren" href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%22Happy%20420%22&src=tren" target="_blank">https://twitter.com/search?q=%22Happy%20420%22&src=tren</a></blockquote>
Which links to a Twitter search page for "happy 420."<br />
<br />
If neo-Nazis, who are demonstrably bad, hate marijuana, then it stands to reason that marijuana is demonstrably good. QE2.<br />
<br />
Further,
there are a huge number of "praise and blaze" postings to Tumblr today,
celebrating the confluence of Easter and 4/20. And isn't one of the
sayings currently in vogue "stay lifted"? Couldn't we say that that is,
in fact, what Jesus did at His Ascension? (I'll plant the flag right
here and say, Torch a fatty on 5/29, y'all.)<br />
<br />
At any rate, blaze a
bud, then, on this day, and strike a blow against
Fascism. <br />
It's what Jesus would want you to do.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-24562697442676418592014-02-10T22:42:00.000-05:002014-02-10T22:42:54.227-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissNA-M3f_1hh_hRx8gwG30z0S-0Az-1_9IdA7Kp-zjSQ-hIvDD5q9RX5Z1si4FHJBtm3AJEtthAmw-gn1IoJuXaQWg0QDWOcxYG3wKmuVL6OXW9iQ5wXrRbdOyV2s6WiGre0F/s1600/Hale+Matthews+Laye.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissNA-M3f_1hh_hRx8gwG30z0S-0Az-1_9IdA7Kp-zjSQ-hIvDD5q9RX5Z1si4FHJBtm3AJEtthAmw-gn1IoJuXaQWg0QDWOcxYG3wKmuVL6OXW9iQ5wXrRbdOyV2s6WiGre0F/s1600/Hale+Matthews+Laye.png" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Minor Triad, Dept.</b><br />
<b> </b> <br />
So, I was listening to an album of songs by Binnie Hale, a British
stage and screen star most popular in the '20s and '30s, and I recalled
that there was a British stage named Sonnie Hale, who, upon
investigation, turns out to have been her brother (theatrical family,
don'tcha know).<br />
<br />
Well, Sonnie Hale was involved in one of the more lurid divorces of that <i>entre-deux-guerres</i> period, as steamy love letters penned by his co-respondent and <i>This Year of Grace </i>co-star Jessie Matthews were found by Hale's wife, theater star Evelyn "Boo" Laye.<br />
<br />
The
letters, read at the June 1930 divorce proceedings, cause the
somewhat-priggish judge to fulminate, "It is quite clear that the
husband admits himself to be a cad, and nobody will quarrel with that,
and the woman Matthews writes letters which show her to be a person of
an odious mind." <br />
<br />
One excerpt, cited <a data-mce-href="http://www.nickelinthemachine.com/2009/04/berwick-street-and-the-rivals-in-love-jessie-matthews-and-evelyn-laye/" href="http://www.nickelinthemachine.com/2009/04/berwick-street-and-the-rivals-in-love-jessie-matthews-and-evelyn-laye/" target="_blank">here</a>, follows:<br />
<blockquote>
"My
Darling, I want you and need you badly, all of you, and for a very long
time. I am lying here, waiting for you to possess me. The dear little
boobs, which you love so much, are waiting for you also."</blockquote>
The small world of the West End must have seemed just that much smaller for this trio.<br />
<br />
To provide some sense of their respective styles, <a data-mce-href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GMyvQU_pTd0" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GMyvQU_pTd0" target="_blank">here</a> is Binnie Hale singing "You Don't Know The Half Of It" from 1935's <i>Hyde Park Corner</i>, <a data-mce-href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EjxzKZYAWvo" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EjxzKZYAWvo" target="_blank">here</a>
is Jessie Matthews in a sparkly body stocking singing "It's Love Again"
from the 1936 film of the same name (read the comments for discussion
of Fred Astaire's interest in co-starring with her) and <a data-mce-href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBaUt_qGFi8" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBaUt_qGFi8" target="_blank">here</a> is Evelyn Laye singing "Love Is A Song" from 1934's <i>Princess Charming</i>.<br />
<br />
And here is the play that brought Miss Matthews and Mr. Hale in close proximity, which, quoting Dante (<i>Inf</i>., V., 137-8), I share with you:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>Galeotto fu 'l libro e chi lo scrisse:</i><br />
<i>quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante.</i></blockquote>
<br />
<img alt="" data-mce-src="http://www.noelcowardmusic.com/images/programmes/this_year_of_grace.gif" src="http://www.noelcowardmusic.com/images/programmes/this_year_of_grace.gif" />the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-90862274056062545152014-02-09T16:34:00.000-05:002014-02-09T16:36:58.531-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSwAL-4cj0O9XZDg8P9jgN_x7CzOVnubOH-UCNPSC9QOVUANW8-_zHv3rW-_U6C6C3ZTSxjdJ_9e9xQLd4iagOsIiP1hWf3Vi2WBqmKDKVOZg-m8uJc7CIQnUuKOo3h-t7CeP/s1600/drunk+valentine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSwAL-4cj0O9XZDg8P9jgN_x7CzOVnubOH-UCNPSC9QOVUANW8-_zHv3rW-_U6C6C3ZTSxjdJ_9e9xQLd4iagOsIiP1hWf3Vi2WBqmKDKVOZg-m8uJc7CIQnUuKOo3h-t7CeP/s1600/drunk+valentine.jpg" height="224" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Love and Death, Dept.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
Yeah, so your sobsister correspondent was metroing around town
Saturday. Very slowly, because Metro has been taking advantage of the weekends to
<del>fuck over anyone who doesn't own a car in the
city</del> effect track improvements. And I noticed packs of
20-something men and women (hereafter "Youngs"), some wearing colorful
headgear, weaving noisily through the Metro Center subway stop at
irregular intervals.<br />
<br />
Surfacing at Farragut North because the train
I was riding decided that that was now the last stop on the westbound
Red line, I walked up Connecticut Avenue and saw a humongous line of
people. At least a couple hundred. Youngs, men and women, mainly
Caucasian, although some Youngs of Color were also lined up. Was money
being given away? Jobs? Photo ops with the president?<br />
<br />
No, silly sobsister! It was just people waiting a <b>long</b>
time to get into one of a number of venues in the greater Dupont Circle
area participating in the Cupid's Bar Crawl, "the country’s largest and
most electrifying Valentine’s Day themed pub crawl" in which you are
invited to "join thousands of fellow crawlers and take a shot at love at
some of Dupont Circle’s most popular bars."<br />
<br />
And, sure enough,
they were out by the thousands. An alarming number of the women were
wearing what I'd describe as spring dresses, lightweight, above the
knee, with maybe a shrug or light top. It was 32 degrees at Dupont
Circle when I walked by, and humid. So, what I, an Old, would consider
bone-chilling cold, these blithe female Youngs considered a judiciously
selected opportunity to display their wares in "a shot at love."<br />
<br />
Of the <b>really</b>
made-up holidays, Saint Patrick's has always been an occasion for
public inebriation because, faith and begorrah, we honor the memory of
that missionary saint by puking green on public property. Cinco de Mayo
because you have to wait all the way till the end of the month to
commemorate our fallen servicemen and -women by killing a six before the
barbecue. And now, St. Valentine's Day, more nakedly than ever about
drugging someone to participate in your attempt to quell the white-hot
flames of libido and fear.<br />
<br />
Oh, Industry. First, you create it, and then you degrade it. Well played.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-3972388955929647842014-01-03T21:15:00.001-05:002014-01-04T19:34:23.155-05:00<b>Doobie More Clever, Dept.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/03/opinion/brooks-weed-been-there-done-that.html?hp&rref=opinion&_r=0" target="_blank">Weed: Been There. Done That.</a><br />
<blockquote class="link_og_blockquote">
It is one thing for kids to
experiment with marijuana, but it’s something else for it to be legal
for adults to use anywhere, everywhere.</blockquote>
Hey, Cap'n Bringdown, you're harshing my mellow! *ha ha* No, but seriously, <i>NYT </i>columnist
David Brooks writes about how he "outgrew" pot because of "embarrassing
incidents"--no, not as good as you might hope--such as <b>getting tongue-tied in English class</b>. See, at first, he and his equally immature boon chums would occasionally fire a fatty, blow a bone, <i>fumarse un porro</i>,
just for shits'n'giggles, but then he and they "developed higher
pleasures." No, not the Lucky Pierre, although that was my first guess
for him, too. He repeats that they "graduated to more satisfying
pleasures"--again, <b>not</b> the Lucky Pierre--that I have to share with you:<br />
<blockquote>
The deeper sources of happiness usually involve a state of going
somewhere, becoming better at something, learning more about something,
overcoming difficulty and experiencing a sense of satisfaction and
accomplishment. </blockquote>
Because, you see, you filthy,
unmotivated slave to that resinous scrotum of Satan, only those whose
lips know not the will-sapping weed are capable of personal advancement
and growth. You are too mired in your "dubstep" and your "<i>Adventure Time</i> marathons" to know the joys and satisfactions of achievement and knowledge.<br />
<br data-mce-bogus="1" />
Even
as he sneers at potsmokers for being sketchy underachievers, Brooks (street
name: What Passes for Conservative Intellectualism Nowadays Yo) then
weasel-words the following:<br />
<blockquote>
Not smoking, or only smoking sporadically, gave you a better shot at
becoming a little more integrated and interesting. Smoking all the time
seemed likely to cumulatively fragment a person’s deep center, or at
least not do much to enhance it. </blockquote>
The "only smoking sporadically" allows a lot of people in his peer or demographic group to say, <i>Oh, yeah, we're not like <b>total</b> wake'n'bake losers</i>, and lets them buy into the rest of his specious argument. Which only applies to "those potheads," amirite, guys?<br />
<br />
But that is an intellectually dishonest rest stop on the Speciousness Highway. Because, really, what he's saying is POT IS BAD<i>. </i>Period. No medical MJ, no nothin'. But he has to cut you, the reader, a little slack in order to get you on his wavelength.<br />
<br data-mce-bogus="1" />
Brooks
is known for being among the less cretinous of the conservative
columnists. But this essay wants serious rethinking and rewriting. On
"healthy societies":<br />
<blockquote>
I’d say that in healthy societies government wants to subtly tip the
scale to favor temperate, prudent, self-governing citizenship.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
In those societies, government subtly encourages the highest pleasures,
like enjoying the arts or being in nature, and discourages lesser
pleasures, like being stoned. </blockquote>
Oh, David, your conservative Whiteopia, where government is <i>subtly </i>interventionist.
Not all regulatin' an' whatnot, but hovering like a benign guardian
angel, sky-high and translucent white against the blue horizon of
American Hope, nudging us to go to Shakespeare in the Park.<br />
<br data-mce-bogus="1" />
I'll close with this wowser:<br />
<blockquote>
Most of us figured out early on that smoking weed doesn’t really make
you funnier or more creative (academic studies more or less confirm
this). </blockquote>
David, I am <b>so</b> with you. I
look at my record racks and see acres of music produced by abstemious
men and women, strangers to intoxication. How could the sticky ick
possibly fire someone's creativity? "Academic studies more or less
confirm this"? Yeah, I'm gonna go with "less."<br />
<br data-mce-bogus="1" />
There's so much to criticize, just go, read. "Clueless Puritan Privilege Doesn't Like Something"--film at 11.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-80797990211848272152013-10-27T17:46:00.002-04:002013-10-27T17:46:29.932-04:00<div class="post_body">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOD_Ki9qIaKWKACxfCe3Rhn1_T3YZp2tZ80xK7UpxmJ-cpGcJVd7-tMCELvqaS5mDQStC25KvEiEln7uyV4hW9OctJayQCtK0ZXVARHjsihbM7y-FgnGuZB1vvw-LMqiEs1Z5/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-10-27+at+11.11.58+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOD_Ki9qIaKWKACxfCe3Rhn1_T3YZp2tZ80xK7UpxmJ-cpGcJVd7-tMCELvqaS5mDQStC25KvEiEln7uyV4hW9OctJayQCtK0ZXVARHjsihbM7y-FgnGuZB1vvw-LMqiEs1Z5/s320/Screen+shot+2013-10-27+at+11.11.58+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="post_body">
<b>You Can Buy Anything but Class, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
This photo, courtesy of Kim Kardashian, is from that
inexplicably famous woman’s sojourn to Las Vegas to celebrate her 33rd
birthday. Because time marches on no matter how many new faces she
buys.<br />
<br />
Looking at this snap, I didn’t think of Las Vegas so much as Staten
Island. Like a Sicilian bachelorette party. But, hey, that <strong>15-carat</strong>
rock that Kanye bought her to seal the deal probably really classed up
the outing. At least more than the Daisy Mae Yokum wedding dress she’s
wearing.<br />
<br />
America: When we take out the trash, it goes on the front page™.<br />
</div>
the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-63351824134961127112013-10-06T20:43:00.001-04:002014-07-31T20:54:43.825-04:00<span class="text" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>In Other Words, Dept.</b></span><br />
<span class="text" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="text" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Translation, particularly of Ancient Literature, interests me. The rendering into modern or archaic English of texts whose significance and resonance to their contemporary audiences we can only sketch. The knife's-edge walk between fidelity and flair. But more than that, the simple ability to reach back 2,500 years and hear the voices and grapple with the thoughts of those who have not walked in the sun's bright since those days.</span><br />
<span class="text" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As an example, following are the first eight lines of Aeschylus' <i>Agamemnon</i>, spoken by the night-watchman. Four translations follow these, the first by Herbert Weir Smith, the classicist and author of <i>Greek Grammar</i>, the second by the poet and translator Richmond Lattimore, the third by poet Ted Hughes and the fourth by poet and classicist Anne Carson (all rights to the respective holders).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="text">θεοὺς</span> <span class="text">μὲν</span> <span class="text">αἰτῶ</span> <span class="text">τῶνδ᾽</span> <span class="text">ἀπαλλαγὴν</span> <span class="text">πόνων</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="text">φρουρᾶς</span> <span class="text">ἐτείας</span> <span class="text">μῆκος</span>, <span class="text">ἣν</span> <span class="text">κοιμώμενος</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="text">στέγαις</span> <span class="text">Ἀτρειδῶν</span> <span class="text">ἄγκαθεν</span>, <span class="text">κυνὸς</span> <span class="text">δίκην</span>,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="text">ἄστρων</span> <span class="text">κάτοιδα</span> <span class="text">νυκτέρων</span> <span class="text">ὁμήγυριν</span>,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="linenumber"><span class="english"></span></span><span class="text">καὶ</span> <span class="text">τοὺς</span> <span class="text">φέροντας</span> <span class="text">χεῖμα</span> <span class="text">καὶ</span> <span class="text">θέρος</span> <span class="text">βροτοῖς</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="text">λαμπροὺς</span> <span class="text">δυνάστας</span>, <span class="text">ἐμπρέποντας</span> <span class="text">αἰθέρι</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="text">ἀστέρας</span>, <span class="text">ὅταν</span> <span class="text">φθίνωσιν</span>, <span class="text">ἀντολάς</span> <span class="text">τε</span> <span class="text">τῶν</span>.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">H. Weir Smyth translation (1926):</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Release from this weary task of mine has been my cry unto the gods throughout my long year's watch, wherein, couchant upon the palace roof of the Atreidae, upon my bended arm, like a hound, I have learned to know aright the conclave of the stars of night, yea those radiant potentates conspicuous in the firmament, bringers of winter and summer unto mankind, the constellations, what time they wane and rise.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Richmond Lattimore translation (1953):</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I ask the gods some respite from the weariness</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">of this watchtime measured by years I lie awake</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">elbowed upon the Atreidae's roof dogwise to mark</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the grand processionals of all the stars of night</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">burdened with winter and again with heat for men,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">dynasties in their shining blazoned on the air,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">these stars, upon their wane and when the rest arise.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ted Hughes translation (1998):</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You Gods in heaven -</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You have watched me here on this tower</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All night, every night for twelve months,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thirteen moons -</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tethered on the roof of this palace</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Like a dog.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is time to release me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've stared long enough into this darkness</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For what never emerges.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm tired of the constellations -</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That glittering parade of lofty rulers</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Night after night a little bit earlier</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Withholding the thing I wait for -</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Slow as torture.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Anne Carson translation (2009):</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Gods! Free me from this grind!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It's one long year I'm lying here watching</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> waiting watching waiting--</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">propped on the roof of Atreus, chin on my</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> paws like a dog.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've peered at the congregation of the</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> nightly stars--bright powerful creatures</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> blazing in air,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the ones that bring summer, the ones that</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> bring winter,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the ones that die out, the ones that rise</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> up--</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Which, I think you'll agree, is quite a diverse set of readings. What's the literal translation of the text? Here's your sobsister's rough rendering of the lines:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The gods I ask deliverance from this drudgery,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">my full year's watch, lying, dog-fashion,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">on my arm on the roof of the Atreides,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and I contemplated the assembly of night stars,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">those radiant rulers bringing summer and winter to man,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">conspicuous stars in heaven,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">whenever their setting or rising.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Have I mentioned that I'd make Greek and Latin compulsory through all four years of high school? This is our cultural patrimony. To read it, even haltingly, in the original is one way in which our species defeats Death. As you'll have seen, translation is an art and a space where the poet and technician can meet and strike brilliant sparks. But to hear and understand the words in one's own head, even if chipped one by one out of the text's dark walls as beginners such as myself must do, that is truly a treat.</span>
the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-89596703901996549132013-10-05T17:28:00.001-04:002013-10-05T17:28:36.924-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvdEWeLzkfGKnt2g3gUsG2Tp0G1835lFCORZdoQEajdhF_MrVGMUT3h7GHG0h_H3703OZpyLBE4wpy0gDwa2YXHA4AjmTUJUYUGA5YdULdfRQLUDsokWjXiBHaFbbTzxJfhVi/s1600/gravity+poster2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvdEWeLzkfGKnt2g3gUsG2Tp0G1835lFCORZdoQEajdhF_MrVGMUT3h7GHG0h_H3703OZpyLBE4wpy0gDwa2YXHA4AjmTUJUYUGA5YdULdfRQLUDsokWjXiBHaFbbTzxJfhVi/s640/gravity+poster2.jpg" width="428" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Your circuit's dead/there's something wrong, Dept.</b><br />
<br />
Poster for <i>Gravity</i><br />
<br />
Just saw this today. Two words:
IMAX 3-D. See this on the largest screen that you can and strap on
those Roy Orbison depth shades. It is a visually amazing and utterly
immersive experience.<br />
<br />
The story is simple. No spoiler alert is
necessary to tell you that it's the story of an orbital space mission
gone horribly wrong. And the rest of the film is about survival.
There's backstory given to Bullock's character that I think is
unnecessary in terms of the audience's sympathy or engagement.
Backstory that I don't think would've been given to a man in her role.<br />
<br />
I
remember reading about this film on one of the Hollywood biz blogs when
it was first announced a few years ago. A lot of questioning as to
whether Sandra Bullock could hold you for 90 minutes--she's pretty much
in every shot of the movie. Well, she does, aided by the astonishing
visuals and, yes, edge-of-your-seat, <i>Perils-of-Pauline</i> action.<br />
<br />
I'm calling her for Best Actress and <i>Gravity </i>for
Best Picture noms next Oscar™ season. On the one hand, the film is at
the edge of our technological abilities in the medium, and every dollar
spent shows up on the screen.<br />
<br />
But this is no mere CGI-wankfest. The
film is centrally about human survival under the most adverse
conditions, and it's driven by Bullock, much of it in head-and-shoulders
shots. Her reactions to the rapidly shifting circumstances--and
dangers--are ultimately what keep your ass in the seat.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-17877089005623539792013-09-08T19:09:00.002-04:002013-09-08T19:10:40.511-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikitUqzClgSLYLnNNqS0oT0L8mGtwHVZAWqLrQphrR8h_PWFMhWK66okV-BvI0UPMFpefgd2YAD_aNbn2D8HkYbGVUozh_lFurmETPvftqTX33htDicROjbz5mo0M6edD9lGmv/s1600/mjf+on+nbc.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikitUqzClgSLYLnNNqS0oT0L8mGtwHVZAWqLrQphrR8h_PWFMhWK66okV-BvI0UPMFpefgd2YAD_aNbn2D8HkYbGVUozh_lFurmETPvftqTX33htDicROjbz5mo0M6edD9lGmv/s400/mjf+on+nbc.png" width="299" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Shake It Off, Dept.</b><br />
<br />
NYC subway poster for <i>The Michael J. Fox Show</i><br />
<br />
<br />
Michael
J. Fox is returning to television in a show about a former TV
personality returning to television. In both cases, the reason for
leaving television was the onset of Parkinson's. The <a data-mce-href="http://www.nbc.com/the-michael-j-fox-show/video/the-michael-j-fox-show-official-trailer/n36745/" href="http://www.nbc.com/the-michael-j-fox-show/video/the-michael-j-fox-show-official-trailer/n36745/">trailer for the show</a>
actually doesn't suck, both because Fox has always been one of the most
likeable personalities in television/film and because a TV show
premised on someone overcoming a disease is unusual enough--one that
treats the situation with a bit of gallows humor is noteworthy. Whether
this show can outlast and transcend its premise (how many times can MJF
joke about his tremor?) remains to be seen. But the poster is an
intriguing comment on the situation and meta-situation.<br />
<br />
First off,
the tag "Still got it" refers to both Fox's character and to Fox,
presumably as a cocky affirmation (and reassurance) to the viewing
audience that he's back and as good as ever.<br />
<br />
More notably, Fox
contradicts the symptoms of his illness by being the still center of the
photo (with his adoring size 2 wife draped over him) even as everyone
else is frenetic in motion. That contradiction plays to the choice of
tagline.<br />
<br />
I wish him and the show well. He's getting a one-hour
season premiere and has the job of leading audiences into NBC's 10 p.m.
programming, which is <i>Parenthood</i>, moved to Thursday night after
three years of critical admiration and diminishing audiences and
looking to benefit from the same demo that would dig MJF's showthe sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-32203963612002061032013-09-05T20:08:00.000-04:002013-09-05T20:08:49.697-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzt02zqYbeawzvsKEWYABnO-pTYJ8GqkaO6r5sHF4JZy6cCePEJo7gBJTI8LX_nARydC7K6k4jPAmUe7uT8kjkQlaIc1hhv-vQaIb2TSSo1g8tE7fkr6i4NRFwnKocYo2_0fxq/s1600/brooks+brothers.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzt02zqYbeawzvsKEWYABnO-pTYJ8GqkaO6r5sHF4JZy6cCePEJo7gBJTI8LX_nARydC7K6k4jPAmUe7uT8kjkQlaIc1hhv-vQaIb2TSSo1g8tE7fkr6i4NRFwnKocYo2_0fxq/s400/brooks+brothers.png" width="338" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Fashion Weak, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
Men, do you find that not enough people at your workplace jeer at
you? Do you feel that more bystanders on the street or congregants at
your place of worship should be calling you things such as "dumb fuck,"
"colorblind weasel" and "dumb fuck"?<br />
<br />
Well, fret no more, <i>mon freres</i>!
Because Brooks Brothers (motto: "We wouldn't know good taste if it
landed on our tongues™") has just released its faboo "Buffalo Check"
fall line!<br />
<br />
Yes, plunk down a mere $1,300, and you can walk out of
the showroom wearing the lovely ensemble you see above left--high-water
cuffs at no additional cost! Like the cashmere cable-knit turtleneck
sweater that completes the outfit? Another $1,200, and it's yours,
brother!<br />
<br />
What's that? You're more in the mood to flash some gam?
Well, the socks-optional outfit on the right--three-piece shorts suit!
what will they think of next?!--is a mere $1,900 away! Throw in the
shirt and tie for another $320, and you've got a Look! Not a "look"--a
"Look."<br />
<br />
As I've mentioned <a data-mce-href="http://thesobsister.tumblr.com/post/57022945572/brooks-brothers-hates-children-arguably-it" href="http://thesobsister.tumblr.com/post/57022945572/brooks-brothers-hates-children-arguably-it">before</a>,
Brooks Brothers demonstrably hates human beings. More specifically, it
hates men and seeks to emasculate, infantilize and ridicule them by
designing outfits a '70s pimp would find garish.<br />
<br />
The more I think
about it, the more it occurs to me that Brooks Brothers is the
haberdashery dominatrix: it debases you entirely then charges you for
the privilege. <i>La Belle Dame sans G</i><span class="st"><i>oût</i>.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">So,
run down to your local BB now! These babies are flying out the door!
Or, if you want to save time, take $2,000 in twenties and fifties, throw
the bills in a metal container and set them on fire. Either way.</span>the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-81041400931819911702013-08-26T22:44:00.000-04:002013-09-04T21:41:10.651-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<b>You Can't Spell "Bimbo" Without "Bomb," Dept.</b><br />
<br />
Right. So, Miley Cyrus at the VMAs. Lots of churn about this today. I watched her performance just now. A few thoughts.<br />
<ul>
<li>Has
her management decided that the Humbert Humbert demo is her sweet
spot? Also, are plushies the new gay? Because I liked the old gay <b>way</b> more.</li>
<li>Miley
apparently suffers from an affliction that prevents her from keeping
her tongue in her mouth--the poor creature gurns like Keith Prodigy
after a wasabi gargle.</li>
<li>"La-da-di-da-di, we like to par-ty" is
the stupidest line in an English-language song since Vortigern invited
the Saxons to Albion. Fact.</li>
<li>During the latter half of this
number, after she's shed her PaedoPals™ outfit in favor of a bra and
panties because clothing is so, ohmygod, clothingy, Miley employs a
large white foam hand in a variety of ways, but primarily to point at
her and others' genitals. I have never been a supporter of abstinence
education. Until now.</li>
<li>Is Robin Thicke the George Michael of his generation? Because he sucks, and George Michael didn't. So, that made me wonder.</li>
<li>No, but really: what the fuck is up with the stuffed animals?</li>
<li>Miley likes to twerk. But not in a boner-inducing way. More like in a poodle-on-your-leg way.</li>
<li>If you have to ask the crowd at the VMAs to "make some noise," you're not doing your job. </li>
</ul>
As part of my research, I also watched the video for "<a data-mce-href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrUvu1mlWco" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrUvu1mlWco">We Can't Stop</a>"--because
life is too short to do worthwhile things--where I learned a few more
things about Miley: (i) she likes black people's bottoms; ii) she is
open to the idea of sex with girls, but not in a flannel-shirt-Indigo
Girls-Home-Depot-habitué way; (iii) she's like Fiona Apple without the
edge or intelligence or musical ability; (iv) she photographs well.<br />
<br />
So,
I listened to the Big Three singles for this summer by women and
watched the corresponding VMA performances: Miley's "We Can't Stop,"
Lady Gaga's "<a data-mce-href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Q7nsycfNmQ" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Q7nsycfNmQ">Applause</a>" and Katy Perry's "<a data-mce-href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4syMlwCo28E" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4syMlwCo28E">Roar</a>." Then I thought of the book <i>Girls Like Us</i>,
which chronicles the lives of Carole King, Joni Mitchell and Carly
Simon as they took off from the '60s into the '70s. Let's think back 40
years. Carole King had released <i>Tapestry</i> two years earlier, Joni was between <i>Blue </i>and <i>Court and Spark</i>, Carly had just released <i>No Secrets</i> and "You're So Vain" was everywhere.<br />
<br />
I
don't think it's an unfair comparison; only Miley is considerably
younger than the other five at the same point in their lives. Carole,
Joni and Carly were not art-rock princesses playing rarefied airs to the
intelligentsia; they were mainstream "pop" artists, none more so than
King who had minted millions of 45s as a songwriter in the shadow of the
Brill Building. Of Miley, Gaga and Katy, only Gaga has the craft and
smarts to be playing anywhere near the league of their foremothers and,
even then, the shtick gets in the way of the songs.<br />
<br />
So, yeah.
Sorry, kids. Your music sucks like an open chest wound. But, hey,
twerking plushies! That's gotta count for something, right?<br />
<br />the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-90660192141655591572013-08-17T21:43:00.000-04:002013-08-17T21:43:40.199-04:00<b>A Perfect Storm, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yr__py6qOs4" target="_blank">Maria Callas, "Un Voce Poco Fa, Hamburg, May 1959</a><br />
<br />
When people ask you "What's the big deal about Maria Callas?", you can just dial up this live performance and hit 'play.'<br />
<br />
From
1959, the year of Onassis, and with him very much front of mind--their
lives, once only tangential, now, mostly by design, were about to
collide--she brings intensity, a houseful of charisma and the last of
her good voice to a recital in Hamburg.<br />
<br />
For many years, there has been discussion of the role of Callas' sudden <a data-mce-href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maria_Callas#Weight_loss" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maria_Callas#Weight_loss">weight loss</a>
in the ultimate deterioration of her voice. How she could no longer
support the huge voice she had with a much smaller frame. Watching this
performance, I saw Maria Callas in her designer ensemble looking
beautiful and projecting beauty as being strongly informed by the
absence of the negative body self-image she had when she was heavier.
One may wish that she had accepted herself at her earlier weight rather
than attempt and achieve such a dramatic change.<br />
<br />
That noted, I
would think that there would be a profoundly satisfying energy to
achieving one's society's ideals of beauty--and even helping to define
them--for most people. Take, then, an intense, driven, hugely talented
and intelligent woman who had suffered from being the "ugly ducking", to
use her words, in the shadow of her more conventionally and perennially
beautiful sister for all of her youth and adolescence. Post-Weight
Loss, she could go toe to toe with Grace Kelly in the looks and glamour
departments and did. For good or ill, I don't think the Maria Callas we
know would have been a non-weight loss Maria Callas.<br />
<div class="libretto">
<br /></div>
<div class="libretto">
Una voce poco fa<br /> qui nel cor mi risuono<br /> il mio cor ferito e' gia<br /> e Lindor fu che il piago.<br /> Si', Lindoro mio sara<br /> lo giurai, la vincero<br /> Il tutor ricusera<br /> io l'ingegno aguzzero<br /> Alla fin s'acchetera<br /> e contenta io restero<br /> Si', Lindoro mio sara<br /> lo giurai, la vincero<br /> <br /> Io sono docile, <br /> son rispettosa<br /> sono obbediente, <br /> dolce, amorosa<br /> mi lascio reggere, <br /> mi fo guidar.<br /> Ma se mi toccano dov'e'<br /> il mio debole<br /> saro' una vipera<br /> e cento trappole<br /> prima di cedere faro' giocar,etc.</div>
<div class="libretto">
<strong><br /> </strong><em>A voice a while back</em><br /><em> echoes here in my heart;</em><br /><em> already my heart has been pierced</em><br /><em> and Lindoro inflicted the wound.</em><br /><em> Yes, Lindoro shall be mine;</em><br /><em> I swear it, I will win.</em><br /><em> My guardian will refuse me;</em><br /><em> I shall sharpen all my wits.</em><br /><em> In the end he will be calmed</em><br /><em> and I shall rest content...</em><br /><em> Yes, Lindoro shall be mine;</em><br /><em> I swear it, I will win.</em><br /> <br /><em> I am docile,</em><br /><em> I'm respectful,</em><br /><em> I'm obedient,</em><br /><em> gentle, loving;</em><br /><em> I let myself be ruled,</em><br /><em> I let myself be guided.</em><br /><em> But if they touch me</em><br /><em> on my weak spot,</em><br /><em> I'll be a viper</em><br /><em> and a hundred tricks</em><br /><em> I'll play before I yield,etc</em></div>
the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-9274969569283036212013-07-31T21:50:00.001-04:002013-08-01T22:10:39.878-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdD0r5UYahyphenhyphenCAeljDtrHbM6xF1WbFP6QscljJKDeu9A-jiIt2LJrL9-D27gZco7pDTBCs6tc_Qo3A0g6tugE7H41CwnP_os82RZakaLdBcWJXbg5c3qsLj7V_OLiKKsREYp4qc/s1600/bb.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdD0r5UYahyphenhyphenCAeljDtrHbM6xF1WbFP6QscljJKDeu9A-jiIt2LJrL9-D27gZco7pDTBCs6tc_Qo3A0g6tugE7H41CwnP_os82RZakaLdBcWJXbg5c3qsLj7V_OLiKKsREYp4qc/s400/bb.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>The Rag Trade, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
Brooks Brothers hates children. Arguably, it hates human beings,
because, really, who the fuck wears lime green pants? But especially
children.<br />
<br />
Let's see...we have the painfully thin girl who's
dressed as a waitress at the Existentialist Diner; we have the
mixed-race girl because an actual black child would cause BB's target
demo to soil its patchwork Madras skirts and aforementioned lime green pants, and,
really?, the last person who could carry off the tie-as-belt was Fred
Astaire; and a boy whose outfit pretty clearly says to his classmates, "Beat the shit out
of me. Please. Take an army sock full of quarters and whale the fuck
away on me." And they're all carrying signs that read "My School Is."
Run out of paint, then? At least the cretin ad agency
didn't do the backwards "S" that's shorthand for "childlike script."<br />
<br />
Ugh. Brooks Brothers: Where good taste goes to die™.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-41836070284968807962013-07-27T22:06:00.000-04:002013-07-27T22:06:50.909-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_X4wCaP-Pghc1eFTZFRnVbmW_cW_sTx2FahdI_3OUwBzKji-czhwyuZg-WrhO9qyYDNm72nTL38xmgM-r8gJRiA5QcjPeizPjBdXv_EGMYOBs5CHpC_anhuwRvIAW0Nj32zqn/s1600/mondo+2000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_X4wCaP-Pghc1eFTZFRnVbmW_cW_sTx2FahdI_3OUwBzKji-czhwyuZg-WrhO9qyYDNm72nTL38xmgM-r8gJRiA5QcjPeizPjBdXv_EGMYOBs5CHpC_anhuwRvIAW0Nj32zqn/s320/mondo+2000.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Où sont les neiges du futur?, Dept. </b><i><br /></i><br />
<br />
<i>Mondo 2000</i> (Nina Hagen, pictured)<br />
<br />
Oh, <i>Mondo 2000</i>.
Where are my smart drugs and my teledildonics?! I didn't get my
cyberpunk future. Nina Hagen is not pope. The sky over Milk Chocolate
City looks like an Ad Reinhardt outtake, not television, tuned to a dead
channel. I was gonna be a hacker, <i>Mondo</i>, 1337. 1n5734|) 0|= 4 |3|_|m vv|-|1(|-| 15 vv|-|47 1 4m.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-11014494512346822942013-07-27T22:02:00.000-04:002013-07-27T22:02:34.673-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Let's Get Physical, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
Curtis Mayfield's <em>America Today</em> is one of my
favorite album covers ever. And the source photo, 1937's "At the time
of the Louisville flood," by Margaret Bourke-White, is specific and
textured and gorgeous. The variations from the photo to the album cover
are minor but pointed. The woman's expression. A different boy in a
different mood. Fido is cropped. Why isn't Mom smiling? Does
President Roosevelt have a cold?<br />
<br />
The music is every bit the match of the cover. Sexy. Warm. Curtis spreads the love even as he tells it like he sees it.<br />
<br />
I
found a beautiful original pressing today at a bargain price after many
years of searching. To hold it, hear it and behold the cover makes a
good vinyl day.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-64600428002273576142013-07-15T22:14:00.000-04:002013-07-18T14:23:33.620-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7KfJSyOXRFQFVghYy1n8ua8ZEOZEvgjo7mZi7mb54MDYkOsbftd3qPQ0Wz9gjSA0UC5pNbCe8G99D53OUl7RT2GOWs-RwQjf6F9S3PK5V_JdZCVMHtvnnOZFkz2ylSBcRhd_q/s1600/mama+june.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7KfJSyOXRFQFVghYy1n8ua8ZEOZEvgjo7mZi7mb54MDYkOsbftd3qPQ0Wz9gjSA0UC5pNbCe8G99D53OUl7RT2GOWs-RwQjf6F9S3PK5V_JdZCVMHtvnnOZFkz2ylSBcRhd_q/s320/mama+june.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Frayed Genes, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
The above-pictured is "Mama June" from something called <em>Here Comes Honey Boo Boo</em>.<br />
<br />
Now,
your sobsister has been insulated from this show and its cultural
impact, but from what I can tell, it's as if the banjo-picking kid from <em>Deliverance</em> pitched a sitcom and got it green-lighted.<br />
<br />
You
see, kits and kittens, in the olden days, people used to go to
sawdust-strewn sideshows off the dark end of the midway and gawk at the
"Freaks of Nature" therein displayed: the Dog-Faced Boy, the Bearded
Lady, the Geek who would bite the heads off of live chickens.<br />
<br />
Nowadays, we have TLC on basic cable. Where--let's check tonight's schedule...--you can watch three hours of <em>Cake Boss</em> interrupted only by an episode of <em>Here Comes Honey Boo Boo</em>.<br />
<br />
TLC
used to be called "The Learning Channel." Did you know it's owned by
Discovery? And here's what they discovered: people don' lahk learnin'.<br />
<br />
Here's how the latest season of <em>Here Comes Honey Boo Boo</em> is kicking off: <em>Get
your Watch 'n' Sniff card ready and smell what Alana and her family
have been up to during the premiere of "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo"!</em><br />
<br />
By
comparison, watching Christians being eaten by wild animals and
gladiatorial fights to the death seems uplifting and even edifying.<em><br /></em>the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-37886330442208390792013-07-15T22:06:00.000-04:002013-07-15T22:06:39.412-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxWRnGIo-K9IoKfhBh_YiAV7xs1UzFDHwWt_hRbY5OXO6ueAlLmBNivwagE0lpg_u_OtTKg3Kl9S_imyagv4EqAHP01MpnA_rZMvfqdN5cUEiL6XK9di0NX2hzf0gR_3Dhvfk/s1600/Jenny+McCarthy+RS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxWRnGIo-K9IoKfhBh_YiAV7xs1UzFDHwWt_hRbY5OXO6ueAlLmBNivwagE0lpg_u_OtTKg3Kl9S_imyagv4EqAHP01MpnA_rZMvfqdN5cUEiL6XK9di0NX2hzf0gR_3Dhvfk/s400/Jenny+McCarthy+RS.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Jenifa, oh Jenny, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
Jenny McCarthy is the Gen X Suzanne Somers.<br />
<br />
Not just because
both had short-lived careers in television. Not just because both
support medically/ethically/rationally dubious therapies. Not even
because both bared their tits for <em>Playboy</em>. But because Jenny McCarthy, like her fellow Irish Catholic Suzanne Somers <em>née</em>
Mahoney, is indomitable in the extension of her meager claim to fame
into decades in the limelight. When the world's cities are rubble, and
roaches claim the streets, Jenny McCarthy will still be holding signings
for her latest book on the lighter side of pregnancy.<br />
<br />
This
posting is prompted by the news that McCarthy is replacing Elisabeth
Hasselbeck on that 21st-century successor to the Athenian symposium, <em>The View</em>. Whether replacing a woman best known for being a football player's wife, a finalist on <em>Survivor</em>
and a conservative mini-pundit with a fame whore who has manipulated
the anti-vaccine issue into a reliable revenue stream can be considered a
net positive for the show, in the final analysis, it's <em>The View</em>. They could feature bull baiting and dwarf tossing, and the intellectual tone couldn't be any lower.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-38320209256487712672013-07-13T20:27:00.000-04:002013-07-14T09:04:42.953-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj444NgA3y6PDkTK1SgFTzewSoerPpSHl9F2GD44l04UORsb2yg7dYGsdelvYJToDnbdvC_nSdtYGvS5-iO-BK7R22ahC2TqS-t1MaTCXnRQuOsK7xcXkNspykns0194L17i_e/s1600/brahms+flora.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj444NgA3y6PDkTK1SgFTzewSoerPpSHl9F2GD44l04UORsb2yg7dYGsdelvYJToDnbdvC_nSdtYGvS5-iO-BK7R22ahC2TqS-t1MaTCXnRQuOsK7xcXkNspykns0194L17i_e/s320/brahms+flora.png" width="318" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Vinyl? Vinot?, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
Columbia Symphony Orchestra, Bruno Walter, cond., <em>Brahms/Symphony No.1</em><br />
<br />
Had
an interesting dollar record shopping day. Alongside vinyl from Callas
and Casals, who, if they ever appeared together must've pissed off the
guy who had to put up the marquee--<br />
<br />
"Bill, do we have any more 'L's?!"<br />
"No, man! We only got two with this cheap-ass set!"<br />
"Shit!" <br />
"And we lost one of the 'C's!"<br />
"SHIT!<br />
<br />
--I
picked up this album entirely for the cover. I'd never heard a Brahms
symphony before. It's not like the cover, which looks more like a
Joseph Cornell collage IRL. With this cover, I'd expect a Satie theater
score for a floral-themed proto-absurdist comedy.<br />
<br />
And then, at the second place I went, I found the original cast recording of <em>A Day in Hollywood/A Night in the Ukraine</em>,
which is a 1980 Broadway musical that grafts onto a camp '30s backstage
musical pastiche (is that redundant? it's redundant.) an imaginary Marx
Brothers movie that features a 1980 Tony Award<sup>®</sup> Best Featured Actress in a Musical performance as Harpo by Priscilla Lopez, best known as "Diana Morales" in <em>A Chorus Line</em>.<br />
<br />
Does film exist of this?<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" data-mce-src="http://www.playbillvault.com/images/cover/A/-/A-Day-in-Hollywood-a-Night-in-the-Ukraine-Playbill-07-80.jpg" src="http://www.playbillvault.com/images/cover/A/-/A-Day-in-Hollywood-a-Night-in-the-Ukraine-Playbill-07-80.jpg" />the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-34390868544988311202013-07-05T21:08:00.001-04:002013-07-05T21:08:37.898-04:00.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HXHVw65EEtq7_poaJw6DhPuCZasuCaBmy_jw5Blw17fzGitK64-sGMdrloZ0s2xpmd1EwBJg1ZeVreDB8gBYRTn0pLKjLyevqzLKIgwRcZCA4xF_86Eel4Ko_zg0Z7xD2lUa/s1600/excited+almodovar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HXHVw65EEtq7_poaJw6DhPuCZasuCaBmy_jw5Blw17fzGitK64-sGMdrloZ0s2xpmd1EwBJg1ZeVreDB8gBYRTn0pLKjLyevqzLKIgwRcZCA4xF_86Eel4Ko_zg0Z7xD2lUa/s320/excited+almodovar.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Coffee, Tea or Me?, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
Poster for <i>Los Amantes Pasajeros </i>(U.S.: <i>I'm So Ex</i><i>cited</i>)<br />
<br />
As you can see, the graphic, shall we say, thrust of this film's poster shifted north in translation.<br />
I
saw this today and thought it a hoot. I think there's a disadvantage
to apprehending this film through subtitles, as the rhythms and wit of
Almodóvar's dialogue are crucial to the fun. But this is the director's
camp discourse on sex and death. Mostly sex--gay, straight and
bi--with knowing nods to his earlier films, including cameos from
Antonio Banderas and Penelope Cruz. The English title refers to a
lip-synced version of the Pointer Sisters' hit performed by a Greek
chorus of three flight stewards who are among the flounciest characters
Almodóvar has committed to film and who provide commentary throughout
the film on the goings-on.<br />
<br />
In short, the flight to Mexico on which
the characters find themselves may or may not be able to land in one
piece due to a stuck landing gear, and, so, the possibility of their
imminent demise puts the passengers in business class in a tell-all
mood. Helped by the mescaline-laced cocktails the crew serves to
lighten their spirits.<br />
<br />
Some sourpuss film critics (and, here, I'm
looking at you, Manohla Dargis) seem to want Almodóvar to stay in
serious gear, ignoring the fact that his ability to turn out
sex-farcical trifles is what put him on the map. His inability to
provide Ms. Dargis with a "coherent, sustaining gestalt" troubles her
and some of her fellow critics. My suggestion might be that she knock
back one of the Valenciano cocktails the crew liberally dispenses and
pop the cork out of her...critical mindset.<br />
<br />
A perfect bit of foam and fizz for this hot July, with just enough substance to keep it all from floating away.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-62480965875624687982013-06-21T20:02:00.000-04:002013-07-21T15:07:52.381-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGWSb4vjnbJsu3W_AKXvAqGdTWb4OIJVYBpPArobE91tqG-EQzA-93iEDm4lgSK4Pz610_5CIkwc50wbEYy_YPBTna-8WqMEM-CQa6Yt5woUJ_Z46N4FaDIHG3v-fB2gkCQMd/s1600/paula+deen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGWSb4vjnbJsu3W_AKXvAqGdTWb4OIJVYBpPArobE91tqG-EQzA-93iEDm4lgSK4Pz610_5CIkwc50wbEYy_YPBTna-8WqMEM-CQa6Yt5woUJ_Z46N4FaDIHG3v-fB2gkCQMd/s320/paula+deen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Well, Shut Mah Mouth!, Dept.</b><br />
<br />
There's a word. When, you know, you take delicious <i>Freude</i> from someone's <i>Schaden?</i> I swear, it's on the tip of my tongue.<br />
<br />
Oh,
Paula, Paula, Paula. Your vision of ol' Rastus from down de Big House,
smilin' an' shuckin' an' stoopin' an' bowin' before de Massa Lady has
doomed you to shocking pink skin and a pungent, lasting stink.<br />
<br />
Today, she
was fired off Food Network, which originally launched her, her death-by-lard
repertoire and her two personality-free sons into an orbit of dripping celebrity. Her reputational recovery challenges aside, the question for
her empire is: Does a sizable enough portion of her audience and
clientele speak in private, even to the present day, as she did? And is
there another slice of her demographic deep-dish triple-cream pie chart
that'll say: Well, she's sorry, you know, it's Chrischun to forgive?;
hey, pass th' butter-fried butter and th' bacon treacle, would'ja, hon?<br />
<br />
Are they in preproduction for <i>Meryl Streep's Paula</i> yet? <br />
<br />
<br />the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-6283442054269708432013-06-07T19:48:00.000-04:002013-06-07T19:49:05.987-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCo3O2DVCCDBMo1NZFtkdnQbHpsjZIr77tUS3JSUNXBs68-vDvTODGwvhAj1iadF4s5nfLDgTuire2tkfqZm0TTp83lksTlyjE-hfZ-Wd2lZtkHQ150nJGususULP3T_sXs1GU/s1600/riddle+labyrinth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCo3O2DVCCDBMo1NZFtkdnQbHpsjZIr77tUS3JSUNXBs68-vDvTODGwvhAj1iadF4s5nfLDgTuire2tkfqZm0TTp83lksTlyjE-hfZ-Wd2lZtkHQ150nJGususULP3T_sXs1GU/s320/riddle+labyrinth.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Beware of Crete's Barren Glyphs, Dept.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
Margalit Fox, <i>The Riddle of the Labyrinth</i><br />
<br />
Just
finished this a few days ago, and it was quite excellent. A history of
the effort to translate the tablets written in Linear B that were found
on Crete as part of Arthur Evans' 1900 excavation at Knossos and
subsequently on the Greek mainland. The book focuses on the three
principal players in the translation effort: Evans; Michael Ventris, the
British architect and language prodigy who eventually cracked the code;
and Alice Kober, the American classicist and college professor whose
meticulous efforts laid the groundwork for Ventris' eventual success.<br />
<br />
As
much as a fascinating history of this intellectual crusade, the book is
an effort to claim for Kober the credit she'd been denied in her time
and since. She died young, before Ventris finished, and her own
reticence and painstaking diligence prevented her from making the sorts
of claims that would've drawn attention to her efforts and successes.
And, of course, she was a woman academic at a more-benighted time in
American history.<br />
<br />
Two thumbs up. The author is a <i>New York Times</i>
journalist--she works in The Grey Lady's obituary department--who
trained as a linguist, so she is doubly qualified to write about both
overlooked lives and those spent in the pursuit of the key to a
language.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-49357707299656434982013-06-06T20:01:00.000-04:002013-06-06T21:51:11.163-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPd070aRkMDY_h_u-a_cZCrDqN4fzwzMcmQNNJ0BuCDWpVoQoBcGaPdDalGTDeJI7mQJqv-b0ZfyNFfxiDZdm7j1wDaH9RbkD9zWsvo9b1baHCNurDTl4pADhNO8IYolCfvU81/s1600/esther+williams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPd070aRkMDY_h_u-a_cZCrDqN4fzwzMcmQNNJ0BuCDWpVoQoBcGaPdDalGTDeJI7mQJqv-b0ZfyNFfxiDZdm7j1wDaH9RbkD9zWsvo9b1baHCNurDTl4pADhNO8IYolCfvU81/s320/esther+williams.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Water Life, Dept.</b><br />
<br />
Film actress Esther Williams has died at 91.<br />
<br />
Despite being a
musicals fan, I don't think I've ever seen an Esther Williams film
straight through. Since childhood, I've known what they look like.
And, thanks to <i>That's Entertainment!</i>, feel that I've seen all the best bits of her MGM <i>oeuvre</i>.<br />
<br />
She
did not, from what I read today, have an easy life, between abusive or
parasitic men and the wear and tear (ruptured eardrums, broken neck) of
doing all her own water work. And, from what she wrote in her
autobiography <i>The M</i><i>illion Dollar Mermaid</i>, her co-workers weren't any help.<br />
<br />
According to the book, when she, in likely her biggest non-swimming role, made 1949's <i>Take Me Out to the Ball Game</i>,
Stanley Donen and co-star Gene Kelly, who co-wrote the story and
collaborated on the musical staging, were utter dicks who made her the
butt of their jokes, an experience she describes as "pure misery."<br />
<br />
She also can't have been pleased, eight years later, when <i>Silk Stockings</i>
featured Janis Paige in the role of a dipsomaniacal swimming movie star
who constantly whacks at her head to knock out the water though she's
nowhere near a pool and who answers a reporter's question regarding what
she thinks of Tolstoy (whose <i>War and Peace</i> she's filming as a musical)by saying, "There's absolutely no truth to the rumors; we're just good friends."<br />
<br />
At
any rate, she left behind a ton of onscreen charisma and some of the
most OTT musical numbers in film history (the above done by Busby
Berkeley, somehow unsurprisingly). If you've never seen her, <i>That's Entertainment</i> really is the best collection of, and introduction to, her work.<br />
<br />
aav.<br />
<br />
<br />the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-40626392295553307282013-05-17T19:47:00.001-04:002013-05-17T19:50:10.582-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZEs4mrUzchK3mtpJavRNmaH2QmW6U6OXP_6rr1q-miyliQOtNSURy4YfhvyVhkIIQLTTh53h-QxER7gzHLGSbSPX6vJCPeL65Vwe7NV0zmHeHJbIG6rZs7PiCIRwKF3TWQyv/s1600/ferrante+soundproof3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZEs4mrUzchK3mtpJavRNmaH2QmW6U6OXP_6rr1q-miyliQOtNSURy4YfhvyVhkIIQLTTh53h-QxER7gzHLGSbSPX6vJCPeL65Vwe7NV0zmHeHJbIG6rZs7PiCIRwKF3TWQyv/s400/ferrante+soundproof3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Space-Age Bachelor Pad Cagean Strategies, Dept.</b> <br />
<br />
Ferrante & Teicher, <i>Soundproof</i><br />
<br />
To generate The
Sound of Tomorrow Today!, Ferrante and Teicher prepared or "gimmicked" two Steinway
grand pianos, per the liner notes, for this album of standards and
originals. To sound, at time like analog synths, actually, or tuned
percussion. Or, at least in parts of "Mississippi Boogie," like Les
Paul cascading muted notes.<br />
<br />
Plus, the liner notes offer paragraphs of Eisenhower-era techno porn:<br />
<br />
<i>The
recording was made through seventeen channels, utliziing four
Telefunken U-47, four Altec 21-C, four Altec 21-D, and five specially
designed microphones. These channels were multed through four 6-channel
mixers for simultaneous monaural and stereophonic recording, feeding
modifed 30" Ampex 301 machines, adapted for 14" reels, with our own
specially designed record and playback amplifiers.</i><br />
<br />
And my personal favorite:<br />
<br />
<i>This record was processed from 30" original tapes according to Westminster's new and revolutionary "Panorthophonic" </i><i><i>(registration pending) </i>technique on continuously variable-pitch Scully lathes equipped with Western Electric feedback cutters.</i><br />
<br />
I
want that level of detail on everything I buy. Accept the product of
no other lathe, consumer! Because if it ain't Scully™, it ain't shit,
ahrite? the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37240493.post-12444813402184233862013-05-15T21:31:00.001-04:002013-05-15T21:32:12.800-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2kUh4UwWaFOJv48RB5ru-_gIVVArNTHwX26-mVtcycEHBKGIA72HrDWoLaSNGqBIU-vVAIcSENXjvyMfnEDI7r39c2q7POr0A1Vx4Iu9apeQJ4JGzFXF4eWqv9cjBANPgNBV/s1600/brooks+paris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2kUh4UwWaFOJv48RB5ru-_gIVVArNTHwX26-mVtcycEHBKGIA72HrDWoLaSNGqBIU-vVAIcSENXjvyMfnEDI7r39c2q7POr0A1Vx4Iu9apeQJ4JGzFXF4eWqv9cjBANPgNBV/s400/brooks+paris.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Our Miss Brooks, Dept.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
So, I finished Barry Paris' biography of Louise Brooks, my dinner
companion for the last three months, on and off. And it's difficult to
know what to say about Louise Brooks.<br />
<br data-mce-bogus="1" />
In
some ways, she reminds me of Al Jolson--not someone with whom she's
regularly compared, I would think--in that it seems that the effect of
each in person is irreproducible in any medium. I mean, yes, we see <i>Pandora's Box</i> or <i>The Jazz Singer</i> or read <i>Lulu in Hollywood</i>
or hear "Toot Toot Tootsie" and understand some, maybe much, of his or
her appeal. But the number of times I read in this book about the spell
that Brooksie, as she was sometimes known, could, and regularly did,
cast on those around her, either through her beauty, her sexuality, her
intelligence, her manner, convince me that watching her in the dumbshow
that is silent film only captures the glint and not the essence of this
woman.<br />
<br />
Otherwise, it'd be extremely hard to understand or
explain how this woman, beset from her teen years through middle age by a
tremendous thirst for alcohol, unable and unwilling to do anything she
didn't want to do even at ruinous cost to herself, possessed of a
violent and mercurial temper, could have been the toast of two
continents, not once but twice.<br />
<br />
Louise Brooks summed up her
rejection by Hollywood with the sentence "I like to fuck and drink too
much." But that can only be part of the story, for, reading this book,
one is alternately amazed and horrified at the opportunities she
squandered out of whim, ill-temper, apathy or just plain orneriness.
Thanks to her bad attitude, which one might charitably describe as
"fierce independence," she left or was asked to leave plum positions in
one of the premier modern dance troupes in the United States, George
White's Scandals revue, the Ziegfeld Follies, Hollywood and radio.<br />
<br />
After
years of destitution, charity and occasional prostitution, unable to
hold a job thanks to the aforementioned "bad attitude," she moved to
Rochester, N.Y., at the age of 49 and lived there in increasingly
eremitical solitude until her death at 78. During this period, she
learned to write and became celebrated as an astute and incisive film
historian and essayist. Further, her film work was rediscovered during
this self-imposed exile, and the cult of Louise Brooks grew to its full
flower even as its object grew increasingly less able and willing to
leave the confines of her apartment. The girl who had Charlestoned
through Manhattan, London and Berlin; who, at 18, had had a summer-long
affair with Chaplin; who inspired comic strips' Dixie Dugan; and who had
been a favored guest at Hearst's San Simeon mansion cloistered herself
in a sparsely furnished apartment (save for the hundreds of books she
meticulously annotated) and drank herself through middle age into a
final enforced abstemiousness and slow deterioration at the hands of
emphysema and arthritis.<br />
<br />
She was, by all accounts, an
extremely difficult person. Some anecdotes, even those set in her salad
days, give the impression of someone who's just a little deranged.
Yet. When she was not, she was apparently the most desirable,
impressive and charming woman in North America. She knew everyone, at
least before her fall from Hollywood's graces, and everyone seemed to
want to know her. In fact, I would substitute Six Degrees of Louise
Brooks as the gold standard, at least for the entertainment world before
1960.<br />
<br />
So, I recommend this book without reservation for
anyone interested in the worlds of modern dance, revue, spectacle and
silent film in the first third of the 20th century as well as for those
interested in the ways that a human life can unwind and develop in
adversity, both external and self-imposed. Louise Brooks was, more
often than not inadvertently, at the center of several fascinating
periods and scenes in pre-war cultural life, and the author takes
frequent breaks in the book's first two-thirds to describe these, be
they whores in Weimar Berlin or the early films of W.C. Fields. But
through it all, it's Brooksie and her charisma, her bangs, her legs, her
brains, her moods and her look--that Look that launched a thousand
thousand pale imitations--that piques one's interest even as one peeks
through one's fingers at the multiple train wrecks and triumphs of her
life.the sobsisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01698958505635001514noreply@blogger.com0