Archives for March 16, 2004

For those of you who live elsewhere: it’s snowing in Manhattan. A lot. Did I mention that I have to go see a play in Brooklyn tonight?

All together now: arrgh.

“She stepped forward, kissed me and laid her head against my shoulder, leaning prudently forward to keep the rest of herself out of contact with the rest of me. Both of us sighed deeply. I felt as if I had just sat through a complete performance of La Traviata compressed into one and a half minutes.”

Kingsley Amis, Girl, 20

I usually write about theater in Friday’s Wall Street Journal, but I made a special guest appearance on this morning’s editorial page. The occasion was the opening of Embedded, Tim Robbins’ new play about Gulf War II, which he blames on the political philosopher Leo Strauss, quoting chapter and verse to prove his contention that the war was started for nefarious reasons by a cabal of Strauss’ neoconservative disciples in the Bush administration (including Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz).

There’s just one little problem–the quote in question is totally bogus. And that’s not even the worst part:

Strauss’ complex political views are not easily reduced to speeches in a play, but Mr. Robbins has done his best by making one of his characters, a fellow named Pearly White and thus presumably modeled on Richard Perle (that being Mr. Robbins’ idea of cutting wit), spout the following lines: “Moral virtue has no application to the really intelligent man, the philosopher. In the words of Leo Strauss:

We’re having a major traffic surge as a result of Terry’s Wall Street Journal article about Tim Robbins, and our guess is that some of you are visiting for the first time, so welcome to “About Last Night,” a 24/7 blog hosted by artsjournal.com on which Terry Teachout writes about the arts in New York City and elsewhere, aided and abetted by the pseudonymous Our Girl in Chicago, who writes from…Chicago.

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Welcome.

A reader was amused by my suppressed longing to strangle a noisy dancegoer:

A critic’s work is never done — without a few weapons in his pocket.

You haven’t lived until you’ve attended theater in Fresno, California, which is certainly the worst place on earth for public events (except, perhaps sporting events where rowdy is expected).

I have — I am not making this up, as Dave Barry would say — had a woman sitting next to me singing all of the lyrics loudly. When I politely asked her to refrain, she stood, shrieked at me and everyone in the vicinity that she’d paid for her ticket and she’d damn well sing. It stopped the music. When it started again, she sang.

I have watched standing ovations at intermission for unwatchable performances — I think they are required for everything here. It won’t be long before the audience is staggering to its feet to applaud the curtain opening.

I once had a woman reading her grocery list into her cell phone and explaining what shelf the things would be found on. This was during a very funny and hyperactive performance of Pirates of Penzance, something that should have kept her attention.

But the one bright spot is that most of the offenders are old. Children sit transfixed. Maybe when the geezers die (except me, who will always be too young to be a geezer, of course), we’ll get our public space back. We rarely go out any more. I have little doubt that I’d be the one arrested for murder when, obviously, murder is necessary.

All of which reminds me of the last paragraph of one of my Daily News reviews of the New York Philharmonic: “As for the audience, suffice it to say that concertgoers who cough with open mouths should in my opinion have them closed by a passing usher, preferably with a baseball bat.”

Sorry to be so slow with this, but Sarah has cracked Washington Post Book World:

In the current climate of book publishing, during which controversies rage over the distinction between literary and commercial fiction, and chaos and uncertainty rule the day, one is grateful for signs of professionalism. That is, an author skilled enough over years of practice in taking the fundamental elements of a good story — plot, character, pace, setting, historical detail — and creating a mixture that delivers on nearly all counts. A professional learns from her earlier mistakes and strives to create a better result the next time around; the book may not be transcendent or wholly unique, but a well-crafted work that’s enjoyable, entertaining and occasionally educational is more than enough to satisfy most picky readers….

What’s more, here’s her author bio–or what we in the newspaper business call her “shirttail”: Sarah Weinman writes about crime and mystery fiction at sarahweinman.blogspot.com. I guess that’s the only credential she needs, so far as Book World is concerned. Good for them, and her. Seems like blogs are here to stay.

Here’s an e-mail I just got from Maria Schneider, the jazz composer and bandleader, about whom I’ve had much to say
on this site:

We are playing the Kaye Playhouse again this Thursday, March 18th at 8:00 p.m.

The Kaye Playhouse is located at 695 Park Ave. (that’s actually 68th between Lex and Park on the north side of the street).

If you can’t come, or don’t live in NY, please forward this to anyone whom you think might like to come.

To order tickets:

Phone 212-772-4448

Fax 212-650-3661

Also, I’d like to mention that we just finished the recording stage of our newest album. I’m so happy with the result.

Please visit mariaschneider.com
to find out how you can witness some of the process of making this recording.

Hope to see you this Thursday!

Go thou and do likewise.

Do check out Marshall Sokoloff’s gorgeous photographs of sugar-hauling ships at The Morning News. Jim Coudal comments:

It seems fitting somehow that the hulls of ships carrying raw sugar from the tropics, north through the Atlantic to the Jarvis Quay in Toronto, should be bright and cheerful. That, like those products that will be produced from their cargo, they should be the color of jawbreakers and soda cans, candy wrappers, and the sprinkles that dress the top of cupcakes. It’s also appropriate that they show signs of decay.

My favorites are nos. 2 and 4, which look like abstract landscapes. Some others look like the ships they are, some just look abstract. Where they appear, the ships’ ropes and markings add an element of collage. I want one.

Recommendation: Sidney Mintz, Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History. (Pardon my Cinetrixism.)