The Tempest

It looks like you kids are all as busy as I've been, but I'm finding that blogging can be entirely necessary in the valiant preservation of sanity, so I'm going to keep trying to move ahead with it.

All week, I've been trying to come up with a word to accurately describe Steppenwolf's production of The Tempest. I've come to the conclusion that there isn't one. A word has yet to be introduced into the vast English language that will appropriately describe this production. I'm thinking of making one up, for this very purpose. But I don't know if Merriam Webster is that into suggestions. But please understand before I go on that this word, whatever it is, would be positive, not negative.

I saw the show on Tuesday night, the one night a week I don't have class. And I find that if I go on a Tuesday, I'll have an easier time getting student tickets - boy, did I. I was in center orchestra row D, for $15. The folks sitting next to me probably paid at least $60. Would have been worth $60 though.

...Even as I'm sitting here typing, I'm having a difficult time reviewing this play. It's extraordinary, first of all. It commands your attention literally within the first second (it also may well be the loudest play I've ever seen - the woman beside me jumped a foot when it began). There should be a warning - this play is not for the weak of heart. It's certainly the most exciting production of a Shakespeare play I've even seen. And easily the most daring. The way it's done, it's almost a musical. A hip musical. There's a dance sequence in the second act that you really and truly need to see to believe. Even as I was watching it, I had to blink and remind myself that I wasn't experiencing some kind of tremendously entertaining acid trip.

If you're in Chicago, see this. That's about the best I can do. I recommend it, highly, though I'm having no luck at all conveying it. Just see it.

The song of forgetting

I still exist, I promise. I've just been trying to get through this semester. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and it's becoming increasingly frustrating that it's taking me so long to get there.

I changed my major, which was an extremely monumental step for me. I never thought I would want to do anything other than screenwriting, but after I lot of soul-searching, deep thought, and a long string of conversations with people I trust and admire, I have changed my major to Theater, with a concentration in Directing. And it feels more right than anything I've done in a long, long time. I'm disenchanted with film, and theater is a thrill that never goes away. I want that. And also, I feel like it just makes sense, because I'm in the perfect place to do this - not only am I in Chicago, but I'm at Columbia, which an extraordinary school for theater. My directing role model, Tony winner Anna D. Shapiro, graduated from this school. I consider that to be a very good omen. And like I said, it feels right. How often does that happen really?

Beyond that, I've been going to shows constantly, escaping, spending money I don't have. Met some fantastic people. I'm planning to go see The Tempest at Steppenwolf sometime this week. Possibly tomorrow. I'm excited for that. And I'm still having a consummate love affair with Chicago. I can't believe I'll be leaving it in less than a month only to be stuck at home in Philadelphia for three. Fortunately, Philly is where my best friends are. But still...Chicago...

A weekend of theatre

Cynthia Nixon and Josh Stamberg, in Distracted.

I'm "home" in Philadelphia for spring break. Philadelphia means nothing to me. Its close proximity to New York City does. Thus, I spent the entire weekend there seeing shows. Three shows in two days.

First up was Roundabout's Distracted at the Laura Pels, starring Cynthia Nixon. I love the Laura Pels Theatre. So many good times there, seeing the great Blythe Danner in Suddenly Last Summer (twice!), and The Marriage of Bette and Boo last summer. I wasn't sure what to think of Distracted, because I had intentionally not checked out any reviews. I was stunned by it. It was fabulous. The set...cannot be described without pictures. I've never seen anything like it. Unbelievably high tech, and way too cool. Cynthia Nixon, as expected, was wonderful - and very unlike anything I'd seen her in. The entire cast was great, and the play was both thoughtful and funny. I highly recommend it.

Saturday night was 33 Variations, starring Jane Fonda, Colin Hanks, and Samantha Mathis. Well. I don't think I need to tell you about the brilliance that is Jane Fonda. That goes without saying. She was outstanding, as were Colin Hanks and Samantha Mathis. The set and the direction of the play - fantastic. Almost awe-inspiring. The play itself, I thought, was lacking however. I found my attention veering off now and then, which is rare for me in the theatre, and it seemed almost contrived in its attempt to align the life of Jane Fonda's character with Beethoven himself. The writing just seemed...lazy to me, reliant on conventions. That said, that's no excuse to miss this play. You don't miss Jane Fonda. You just don't.

Sunday, we took in a matinee of Exit the King, which officially opens later this week. The show starred Oscar winners Geoffrey Rush and Susan Sarandon (both of whom I have adored for years and years), as well as Lauren Ambrose (from one of my favorite shows, Six Feet Under) and the always hilarious Andrea Martin. With a cast like this, I was convinced the show couldn't fail. But the play is just one giant question mark. From beginning to end, you have absolutely no idea what's going on, or what the point is. It's an absolute farce, but there's no substance there. And the ending, while somewhat riveting (thanks to the nuanced acting of the play's two formidable leads), comes out of left field and is altogether baffling. I admire the effort - and the performances are all absolutely winning (I had no idea Lauren Ambrose had a flair for the melodramatic and nonsensical - she's fantastic) - but the play itself, unless I missed something somewhere along the way, is rather pointless.

I have been obscenely blessed by the theatre gods the last couple weeks, and I have to be thankful for that. But I do have to say that the shows I've seen in Chicago recently really do eclipse what I've seen in New York of late. I wonder what that says. As I noted to my mother this weekend, I wish Broadway was in Chicago and Chicago was in California. Then life would truly be perfect.

in memoriam

RIP, Natasha Richardson.

You were loved, and you will be missed.

A political bloodbath

Last night, I had the enormous privilege of seeing Bill Maher and Ann Coulter claw each other's eyes out at the Chicago Theater. I shouldn't say that. They were relatively civil, considering.

The theater - huge, gorgeous, and legendary - was packed to the gills with Democrats and Republicans alike (mostly Democrats, given that this is newly victorious Chicagoland), all of them older than my roommate and me. We took pride in being the youngest folks there, because we were also possibly the most excited folks there. Alex and I are what you might call Bill Maher freaks. Real Time, Politically Incorrect, podcasts, opening night of Religilous. And, like probably all Democrats, we are likewise Ann Coulter haters. We were practically giddy sitting in that audience.

And what a fun audience it was. Screaming, clapping, booing, whistling. The speakers could hardly get a word in. Fortunately, Bill Maher and Ann Coulter are experts are getting words in. Throughout the evening, it was obvious that they respected each other. They even made a point of noting that they respect each other. But that didn't keep them from tearing each other a part. Which was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I surprised myself by actually listening to Ann Coulter. Until she called the audience stupid. She said to Bill Maher, and I quote, "Look at you, you're just playing to a stupid audience." That was the moment she lost everyone. But she had lost me a few moments earlier when she went off on single mothers and how children of single mothers are by and large failures. As a child of a single mother, I just about ran up to the stage and tackled her.

Bill Maher, on the other hand, was brilliant and hilarious as always. Yes, I'm biased and yes, I'm okay with that. To my chagrin, he wasn't able to talk much about religion, just as Ann Coulter wasn't allowed to talk much about gay marriage. The topics centered mostly around the Obama Administration, which was admittedly mature if a little disappointing.

All in all, a fantastic night. I never thought I'd be in the presence of Ann Coulter in my lifetime, and especially not alongside Bill Maher, so this'll be a story for the grandchildren.

And now comes the weekend, which will consist of cleaning, sleeping, hair cuts, working on my screenplay for class, and Magnolia at the Goodman. Should be a good last weekend in Chi before spring break hits on the 20th.

People are meant to go through life two by two

Our Town at Lookingglass was last night. I was ushering, so I had the fantastic opportunity to see the cast warming up beforehand and doing some last minute rehearsing. David Schwimmer walked past me in a track suit. You know, the usual. I really love ushering. I love feeling like I'm a part of the whole theatre experience. Really, all I'm doing is stuffing playbills and ripping tickets, but it's kind of nice to feel like you have a little authority even if you really don't. And Lookingglass is so great to usher for, because it's such a cool set up, and so intimate.

Onto the show itself. I need first to talk about the set. Or lack thereof. There was nothing on the stage but a couple of chairs and two tables. No props. All the women wore the exact same outfit, the men did mostly. The actors essentially pantomined everything. They went through the motions of cooking breakfast, eating, drinking, all with only their hands. And here's the kicker - the entire set, the props, endless furniture, etc., were all hanging from the ceiling. Literally. There was a bathtub hanging above my head. It was unbelievable, and too cool. Here's a picture.

All of the actors were essentially the same age. You have David Schwimmer - who's got to be about forty by now - playing a 17-year-old, and so on and so forth. It was all very simple, very minimalist. And absolutely fantastic. You could see that this was lost on many people in audience. But the ones who got it seemed to really, really enjoy it.

I had never seen Our Town performed prior to this. But I remember the exact day when I read it. I was in Ocean City, Maryland with some friends - back when I was going to school in DC - and I read it on the beach. Because clearly, Thornton Wilder is appropriate beach reading. I fell in love with it then, a love that has only been strengthened after seeing it live. I can't recommend it enough.

This is such an excellent theatre month for me. Up next: a Bill Maher/Ann Coulter bloodbath at the Chicago Theater on Wednesday night.

California girls

This is what my fridge looks like at home. Home, as in not my apartment in Chicago but as in the place where my mother pays the bills in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. We have a magnet for every place we've ever been, and they all go right here, along with the occasional embarrassing photo of me and my cousins. I asked my mom to take these pictures the other day, because I've been thinking a lot about it. The places that I've been, and the places I want to go.

People shake their heads at me when I tell them I want to live in Los Angeles. "It's not all it's cracked up to be," they say. Well, no kidding. There isn't a place in the world that is. It's the same way with people who romanticize New York all out of proportion. I tell them, "Hey, it ain't so great." But we want what we want, for whatever reason.

I've been to Los Angeles once, last September. I said to hell with class, and met up with a few of my closest friends there, from all over the country. I flew in from Chicago, there was one in from Texas, three from Washington, D.C. We were there for not more than four days. And we were supertourists. We hit the Chinese Theater, the Walk of Fame, we took the WB studio tour, the obnoxious double-decker bus tour, everything. It was completely kitschy and we loved every minute of it.

I've never been happier. See, I'm an East Coast girl. I was born and raised in Boston, then moved to Philadelphia, then went to school in D.C. before settling on school in Chicago. The landscape in California blew me away. We drove from Santa Monica through Malibu and I was just lost for words. We had dinner one night in Venice Beach, which was...an experience to be sure.

I have been all over the world. Well, okay, that's a lie. I've been all over Europe and the Caribbean sea. I've been to Prague, I've been to Budabest, I've been to Vienna. Rome, London, Paris, Edinburgh, Barcelona, Athens. (My mom is obsessed with travel, it's always been our one extravagance.) But I had never been to the West Coast before. And I was so convinced that I'd never seen anyplace more beautiful in my life. I still believe that.

I've done my time as an East Coast girl. I can deal with the smog. I want to be a West Coast girl now.