Barack I Hardly Knew Ye

Like most Americans of my political stripe I was thrilled when Barack Obama won the presidential election. I considered going to DC for the inauguration; it seemed fitting: I had been there for anti-war rallies, I had lived on the mall for three weeks in Resurrection City and I had marched and worked at the AIDS quilt displays. I wanted to be there in support of and witness to this historic change. I didn’t go, but I cried with joy as I watched the coverage.

Two years later I am only slightly less frustrated than I was under eight years of his predecessor, Dumbya. I’ve kept my mouth shut til now, but yesterday’s news that Obama is freezing federal salaries was the final straw. Like a straw, it was a tiny thing, hardly worth noticing, but it was enough to tip the balance (or break the back, if I’m to keep my triteness in order.)

Going after federal workers is just absurd. No one has ever entered federal service to get rich. One of the reasons the nation’s best people do NOT work for the government is that the salaries can’t compete with those in the private sector. To freeze these salaries is not only a slap in the face to people who believe in America enough to work for her, it is also a small, stupid gesture that represents a paltry 5% of the deficit.

More importantly, what it says to me is that Obama has been sucked into DC Think, that unique mindset that keeps otherwise smart people from seeing reality. Considering the way he’s going, it’s highly unlikely he will be reelected, so why doesn’t he just tell the truth:

-       - we’re out of money because we’re fighting two ill-advised, hugely expensive wars

-       - we’re out of money because we worship it more than anything else and so allow business and individuals to make more and more of it while sharing less and less

-       - we’re out of money because we’ve become a nation of selfish, impatient consumers who care about little other than our own happiness

-       - we’re out of money because generations of law makers have not had the integrity and guts to do the right thing

I don’t have the answers. I voted for Obama because he’s smarter than I and I hoped HE would have the answers. I think he does; he just seems to lack the guts to tell us and the political savvy to lead us. If I’m right, it can only bode disaster for the country. I think we might just need to adjust to the new reality. There will be less and less money for most of us, fewer and fewer resources for all of us. Welcome to the third world.

One man's pain . . .

is another man's pleasure. So it was regarding Elling the new, and late, Broadway show at the Barrymore Theatre. It opened last Sunday night; it closed this Sunday afternoon. Christopher Isherwood's review in the NY Times called the show “a puzzling fizzle,” and the two lead characters “overbearing and charmless.” Other reviews were kinder, but the consensus seems to be that this show, very small in its original London run, suffered from being in the 1,100 seat Barrymore.

I had read about it while it was still in previews; it piqued my interest because it starred Denis O'Hare, winner of a well-deserved Tony for his brilliant portrayal of Mason Marzac, the money manager who falls in love with baseball in Take Me Out. That Elling also starred Brendan Fraser, in his Broadway debut, was a plus; Jennifer Coolidge (Best in Show, A Mighty Wind, Legally Blonde) and Richard Easton (The Coast of Utopia, Henry IV) were also in the cast. It all sounded good to me, so when Ransom said he wanted to go, I got tickets.

We had a delightful time. It's not a great show and it takes a while to find its footing, but it has a lot to offer. Fraser well fits his role of the big-hearted, galumphing dope and Coolidge is a hoot in four roles, the best of which is a cigarette smoking, boozy, pregnant neighbor who falls for the odd Kjell Bjarne (Fraser). Easton, who I enjoyed in The Invention of Love, is here a bit stiff, but mostly pulls off the role of the blocked poet.

It's O'Hare though who once again shines like the searchlights that used to brighten Broadway and Hollywood premieres. He is simply marvelous and says as much with his body as he does with his mouth. Seeing him made our trip to New York absolutely worth it and I think it's a real shame that the producers of this little show didn't give it more time to find an audience. Certainly the folks we saw it with roared their approval.

As a special bonus, Denis O'Hare addressed the standing crowd at the curtain call, thanking us for coming and asking us to sing Happy Birthday to his co-star Brendan Fraser. It was an unorthodox but perfectly lovely way to end the afternoon; no pain at all, just pleasure.

Thanksgiving Day, 2010

Even I, cynic that I am, realize I have much to be thankful for:

Ransom

Cassie and Tasha

Friends

Fall in Connecticut

A stable job

A beautiful house

Mozart, Beethoven and the rest

Living in a blue state

Have a great day everybody!

Veteran's Day, 10 Days Later

Taps at Arlington National Cemetery

I've just caught up with several podcasts from Bob Edwards Weekend, including his Veteran's Day broadcast. If you don't know his show, I highly recommend checking it out. Virtually every episode is worth listening to; even when a subject comes up that I don't care about I learn a lot and enjoy my time if I trust Edward's judgement.

The Veteran's Day show focused on the dignified transfer, the arrival at Dover Air Force Base of each and every American soldier killed in Afghanistan and Iraq. There were segments on the actual transfer of the case; the experience of the press photographer; the military personnel who attend to the body and prepare it for shipment home; the reaction of the families who choose to attend; and, of course, the stories of the fallen. It was a sobering piece and I teared up several times. All these lost youth! For what?

Most Americans, no matter what their position on the wars, seem to “support our troops”. In that, I am like most Americans, but I have a real hard time with it. As an Army brat it was hard to oppose the war in Vietnam when I was a young man – but I did. As the son of career soldier it was hard to say I would not serve if drafted – but say it I did. I am totally opposed to our current two wars and am convinced that when they end we will have accomplished nothing good. As in Vietnam, where over 55,000 Americans died in vain, several thousand will have uselessly died in Afghanistan and Iraq.

But when I bring this argument from the global to the local and experience the death of one young soldier and hear the family tell their story, my politics fly out the window and my antipathy catches in my throat. I can't imagine the pain of losing a 19 year-old child.

Coincidentally, I watched The Messenger last night, a film about the military unit that brings the terrible news of death to the next of kin. I cried during a burial scene, when I heard Taps, just as I did when it was played over my father's coffin as he was buried at Arlington. It's a mournful tune that always brings a shudder to my heart. Years ago I was at the Groton Naval Base picking up some medication for my mom. It was nearly the end of the day and I was anxious to start the hour-long trip home. As I was driving across base the car in front of me suddenly stopped, for no apparent reason. I was about to lay on the horn when the two soldiers in the car got out, stood at attention and saluted. I too got out and only then realized that the base flag was being lowered and you could just barely make out Taps over outdoor speakers. A moment later it was over; we got back in our cars and carried on. It was an amazing experience; I actually had a physical reaction as waves of memory crashed over me. I thought of all the Army bases I had lived on and all the times I had stopped what I was doing to face the flag as it was lowered at the end of the day. It made me miss that life, it made me miss my father and it made me proud to be a military kid.

The Army is involved in two conflicts right now; there's clearly another going on in my head.

Taps

Fading light dims the sight


And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright

From afar drawing nigh,


Falls the night.



Day is done, gone the sun


From the lakes, from the hills, from the skies


All is well, safely rest;


God is nigh.



Then goodnight, peaceful night;


Till the light of the dawn shineth bright.


God is near, do not fear,


Friend, goodnight.

How do you spell fabulous?

This week, at least in New Haven CT, it's spelled R-E-N-T, as in the Yale Dramatic Association's production of Jonathan Larson's 1994 Pulitzer Prize-winning musical. I attended last night's performance, the second in a deservedly sold-out run. The quality of the singing was, in all cases, excellent and the acting was nearly so; I have never seen a student performance at Yale where everyone in the cast was so good as in this low tech, high energy, fast moving show. The Dramat's productions are often good – last year's Carousel comes to mind – but this one is special.

It was an interesting experience for me in particular, because I didn't much like Rent when I saw it on Broadway. I went with Ransom; he hated it, leaving at intermission. I liked it enough to stay, but only just. I bought the OC album, hoping to understand why this show was such a sensation, but listening to the music without the visual only worsened my opinion. Last week I dug out the CD again, for the first time since that original listen, and again confirmed my view.

But last night . . . well, that was a wholly different story. Maybe it was the more intimate theatre, maybe it was this particular cast – the kid playing Mark was gorgeous, the woman playing Mimi fantastic, the one playing Maureen out of this world – maybe it was being with someone for whom blaring rock and roll is not a turnoff. Whatever, last night was terrific.

And that's the glory of live theatre. The show you see once is not the same show you will see later. Even during the run of the same production each performance will be different. My experience at Rent last night can never be duplicated. That's what people mean when they say there's something about live theatre: it's ethereal, momentary and, if you're lucky, magical.

Brief Encounter

Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center

I attended Ransom’s Chamber Music Society concert at Tully last night. It was a struggle because I had to work a full day – couldn’t leave early – and then dashed home to walk the dogs. I knew I would be late and in fact missed Ransom’s first performance (Jolivet Chant de Linos) and the second piece, (Martinů Duo No. 1 for Violin and Viola, "Three Madrigals”), but I managed to hear the last work before the interval and then the final two pieces:

Sheng Northern Lights for Cello and Piano (CMS Co-Commission, New York Premiere)
Ravel Sonatine for Flute, Cello, and Harp (arr. Carlos Salzedo)
Arensky Piano Trio No. 1 in d minor, Op. 32.

Ransom played the Ravel, a favorite of mine, beautifully, and I mostly liked the Sheng and truly loved the Arensky, a composer new to me.

But it’s the interval that I want to write about. I had slipped into the last row, not wanting to stumble over people getting to my ticketed seat. I was going to get up and move where I belonged, but, before I could, the stranger sitting next to me asked a question about the concert.

I was struck both by the question and by a stranger’s willingness to ask. He wanted to know who it was that joined the musicians on stage to take a bow. I answered that it was the composer. He then asked another question; I answered that one and fielded one from his wife. It was then my turn and we spent the next twenty minutes talking about music, my life, their lives, the rich cultural mosaic that is New York, pre-conceived notions of what it means to work on Wall Street and several other things beside.

It was a lovely interlude. I learned that they had moved to New York from the Midwest within the past year and were thrilled by all the opportunities the city offered them. It was exciting to hear them talk about drinking in New York’s culture and diversity and I fondly remembered my first years in the city and the excitement I felt.

I rarely talk with strangers and in fact usually take a seat with empties on either side. So last night was a stretch for me and, as with physical stretching, it felt good.

Thank you, newbie New York cultural hounds; you made an excellent concert even more enjoyable.