8:20 - arrive at bus stop to catch the 8:25 bus to work8:25 - the 8:25 goes by...the wrong direction. Either the bus driver is on crack or the bus is just late late late. Turns out, it's just running really late (20 min by my calculations.) The driver recognizes me and signals me to run across the street and get on.8:30 - the bus gets to a TRAX train station. Because TRAX is a more direct route, I get off and wait.8:31 - A four car Sandy train goes by. (I'm going the other direction.)8:33 - A four car Sandy train goes by.8:34 - A four car Sandy train goes by. Seriously.8:35 - the downtown train is scheduled to come. I can either take the downtown train and transfer or take the University line. Either way. But though the downtown train is scheduled to come, it doesn't.8:40 - a University train comes by...15 minutes late, which is okay because I wasn't there when it was scheduled to come. Still, there's only one car...weird...and it's packed like sardines. Brandon doesn't fit.8:45 - the Downtown train comes...10 minutes late. There's only one car on this one too. Doesn't make sense to take this train, so I decide to wait the 10 minutes till the next university train is scheduled to come.8:50 - Another Sandy train comes by. Four cars. WTF???8:55 - the next University train is scheduled to come. It doesn't.9:00 - another downtown train comes by...packed...only two cars...dammit (mhrip)9:05 - Yet ANOTHER Sandy train comes by. This is five so far. Or TWENTY practically empty cars.9:10 - The University train comes. Finally. Two cars. Packed. Brandon forces himself into one of the stairwells on the last car.9:14 - Train FINALLY leaves the station.9:15 to 9:50 - the train slowly takes 35 minutes to do a 20 minute route. And it's packed the whole way. And I have to get off every stop because I'm in the stairwell and everybody needs to exit. I still can't feel my toes.9:55 - I'm at work. 55 minutes late. Cold. Miserable. But I missed Staff Meeting. Totally worth it!
A New Brain, Eleemosynary & RoundupAnd ANY of this is useful? So I thought I'd respond:
Small Stages: Three community theater companies bring new productions.
By City Weekly Staff
A New Brain
If a musical is going to go the “throughsung” route, it’s usually because something about the subject matter feels particularly operatic. William Finn’s musical aims for that level of emotional grandeur, and instead it swings between pleasantly quirky and merely overwrought.
There’s a certain appropriateness to telling the story of Gordon Schwinn (Jon McBride) in this fashion: He’s a composer who dreams of producing great work.
Unfortunately, his current job finds him penning silly ditties for a children’s television program—and his chance for ever creating something more profound is in doubt when he’s diagnosed with a rare brain disease.
Not surprisingly, the diagnosis puts Gordon in a contemplative frame of mind— and from there, Finn’s score spins in multiple directions. We get a glimpse of his childhood with a horse-betting father; a male nurse gets a solo describing himself as “Poor, Unsuccessful and Fat”; a wandering homeless woman (Julie Carrillo) offers odd insights. And it’s hard to get a handle on what a lot of this has to do with a man facing his mortality and turning it into a dark fantasia.
Dark Horse Company Theatre does put together a solid cast of performers to provide an evening’s entertainment. Carrillo is a vocal standout, as is Rhett Richins as Gordon’s lover Roger, who gets a gorgeous solo moment with “Sailing.” And there’s an effectively emotional scene of Gordon’s mother (Karin Gittins) letting loose her parental anguish in “The Music Still Plays On.” You’ll just need to make it through the parts of the story that didn’t quite require a whole song and dance.—Scott RenshawDark Horse Company Theatre
University of Utah Post Theatre
245 S. Fort Douglas Blvd.
801-581-7100
Through Nov. 15
DarkHorseCompanyTheatre.com
Eleemosynary
The 1980s were a good decade for thinky, conceptual plays that don’t really go anywhere but instead analyze things like “the relationships among three generations of women.” Lee Blessing’s Eleemosynary is one of those. As such, it’s a humdinger; it’s the kind of script that people describe as “delicate.” This is because it’s all about those relationships, which are tricky.
These plays are really psychological whodunits: After the characters are introduced in all their inscrutable quirkiness, the main point is to drill down through layers of their past traumas until a common root to all their conflicting neuroses and motivations is miraculously revealed. In this case, the three generations of women are represented by metaphysical adventurer Dorothea (Jan Frederickson), her daughter Artemis who had eidetic memory of past events (Holly Fowers), and monomaniacal granddaughter Echo (Aly Dowe).
This particular psychological drill-down centers around the issue of intellectual development: Dorothea’s desire for an education was thwarted during an era when women were discouraged from such pursuits, so she made damned sure Artemis went to college; later, their mother/daughter conflict was played out in Echo, making her a shockingly fierce spelling-bee champion. The sins of the mothers are visited upon the daughter.
As Echo, Dowe is the standout in this production with her budding emotional range. Fowers’ Artemis remains stiff and reticent, and I was wishing for a broader performance from Frederickson as the wacky, free-spirited Dorothea.
Still, despite a few technical glitches, the show’s pacing is remarkably snappy. It’s a modest production, and an ambitious one. And, if Blessing’s play was an odd choice for Pinnacle, the challenge was well met. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.—Brandon Burt
Pinnacle Acting Company
Midvale Performing Arts Center
695 W. Center Street
Through Nov. 14
PinnacleActingCompany.org
Roundup
In Kurt Proctor’s world-premiere play Roundup, the romanticizing of the Old West is explored through family stories and a pile of old cowboy poems. We’re left wondering if that West ever really existed—or if that’s even a question worth asking.
Carl (Joe Welsch) feels he’s missed out on something. His dad was a real cowboy, keeping herds on the land before freerange was a catch phrase. His brother, Randy (Greg Peters), followed in those near-mythical bootprints but doesn’t see what all the fuss is about.
It’s a promising premise, and Peters in particular offers a strong performance. However, the show doesn’t quite hold together. Rather than build and develop its themes and characters, Roundup pummels the audience with history, relationships and prejudices in the opening scene.
Characters talk over each other in a manner that is supposed to come off as naturalistic, but instead feels like an improvised rehearsal exercise.
Similarly jumbled is the depiction of the drinking problem of one of the characters. His alcoholism, its causes and the related concern of his family are unevenly portrayed, giving the development a disingenuous air.
However, the play does give insight to the core question of what it means to live in the West in the shadow of rugged individuals, be they real, imagined or somewhere in-between. The show is at its best when this territory is covered by two characters onstage, talking around a fire, under the stars—like we do in these parts.— Rob Tennant
Utah Contemporary Theatre
Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center
138 W. 300 South
801-355-ARTS
Through Nov. 21
UtahContemporaryTheatre.org
It's a sad day when a newspaper review reveals more about the writer’s lack of research, experience, and/or writing abilities than about the work they he or she is reviewing. Obviously the above reviewers had only a few short paragraphs' space to describe and critique three entire shows. But that's no excuse for writing an incoherent, rambling synopsis then tacking on a couple critical sentences to pass off a half-assed assessment as a "review."
This does NOTHING for the theatre-going public, the performers, or the producing organization. A review should adequately discuss a production, and give the reader an idea of why your assessment is valid...or at least why youthink your assessment is valid. Regardless of whether the reviewer is dissecting a professional production or a “community” theatre piece, a valid, well-written, critical assessment is essential to the vitality of the theatre community…both the artists and the theatre-goers. If your newspaper can’t spare the resources to write an intelligent review, simply publish the company’s press release and leave it at that.
With a statement like "If a musical is going to go the “throughsung” (sic) route, it’s usually because something about the subject matter feels particularly operatic," Mr. Renshaw simply reveals either his lack of knowledge about the musical theatre genre or his laziness in formulating an opening argument. His entire review, but especially the opening paragraph, is a waste of the reader’s time and the newspaper’s space.
Mr. Tennant’s sweeping generalizations about UCT’s Roundup make the core of his review muddled and unreadable. In his middle paragraphs he has written nothing specific enough to be useful to either the artists or the public. The entire review feels like a first draft, hastily cobbled together from notes he made during the performance--all the while wishing he was working on one of his other "more important" deadlines.
Mr. Burt’s review of Eleemosynary is at least well written, but falls woefully short when, after three long paragraphs about the material, he takes two tiny paragraphs to actually discuss the production. Once again, the reviewer gives the reader very little information about the quality of the performances, direction, and overall production.
Finally, Mr. Renshaw, what the hell is “You’ll just need to make it through the parts of the story that didn’t quite require a whole song and dance.” supposed to mean? Your excruciating review of A New Brain is an embarrassment, plain and simple. If you find the material “swing[ing] between pleasantly quirky and merely overwrought” could you please take a moment to explain why? It sounds to me like you coined (or stole) an intelligent-sounding phrase with big five-dollar words but then not only failed provide context, you failed to check the dictionary to see what the words actually mean.
Rarely does a local reviewer actually write something useful anymore. Perhaps it’s because the newspaper industry is dying and reviewers are most often staff writers whose primary job is something more glamorous. But that’s no excuse for shoddy work. City Weekly readers expect and deserve better.
According to national estimates, in 2008 there were 304 million people living in the US. Approximately 60.1 million of them are married and living together. A little over 20% of the US population is under 15, and while I'm reluctant to include 16 year olds in the "marriage eligible" category, for the sake of argument let's include them. So there are 243.2 million people in this country who are marriage age. According to Kinsey's study in the 50's, about 10% of the population is gay-ish. More realistic estimates put that somewhere between 2% and 5%. So let's say it's 5%...which means there are about 12.1 million homos in the country. Now, given the above stats, about 1/4 of "marriage eligible" people (15 and over...yikes) are married and living together. So...assuming gays are as likely to marry as straights, which is a big assumption, about 3 million gays are actually affected by the illegality of gay marriage...or 1.5 million marriages. And if 3% of the population is gay, the numbers drop to 7.3 million homos, 1.8 million of whom will probably get married, resulting in about 900,000 marriages. Total. That's NOTHING! Definitely not much to warrant the public outrage.Now...the divorce rate in the US is currently about 3.5 divorces per 1000 people...which works out to about 1.25 million divorces every year (of the slightly more than 60 million "functioning" marriages)...about 1/4 million fewer than gays who otherwise would marry, were marriage available. So the point is this: More "straight" marriages fail EVERY YEAR than gay marriages that would potentially exist. Let me repeat that another way: If gay marriage was legal, fewer than a million same sex marriages would happen. Period. Yet every year, all by themselves, 2.5 million straight people fuck up their own "traditional" marriages.
In this rock 'n' roll fable, two friends stumble across the world's last surviving vampires. Offered the chance to live forever, one man is seduced while
the other barely escapes with his life, setting in motion an even greater fight
for survival. At the crossroads of humanity and immortality, lies...THE CURE."
Hmmmm....A romantic sci-fi drama about gay sex? A sexy sci-fi romance about gay drama? A romantic gay having dramatic sci-fi sex? WHO CARES! I'm soooo there.THEMES: Gay, Sex, Drama, Romance, Science Fiction
Hey y'all...both of you...listen up! I'm participating in the Utah AIDS Foundation Walk for Life this year and have set a goal to raise $100. So click on the link below and go donate. Until I reach $100, the scary maid picture stays! ;-)Where the hell were these people when the PATRIOT Act was passed? When the Bush administration illegally monitored our phone and e-mail? In the past decade our freedoms have been systematically undermined at every turn and yet the outrage is over gun control???PHOENIX – About a dozen people carrying guns, including one with a military-style rifle, milled among protesters outside the convention center where President Barack Obama was giving a speech Monday — the latest incident in which protesters have openly displayed firearms near the president.
Gun-rights advocates say they're exercising their constitutional right to bear arms and protest, while those who argue for more gun control say it could be a disaster waiting to happen.
Phoenix police said the gun-toters at Monday's event, including the man carrying an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle slung over his shoulder, didn't need permits. No crimes were committed, and no one was arrested.The man with the rifle declined to be identified but told The Arizona Republic that
he was carrying the assault weapon because he could. "In Arizona, I still
have some freedoms," he said.
National Journal Magazine - Saturday, Aug. 8, 2009
A Moral Crossroads For Conservatives
The genie that gay-marriage opponents still hope to stuff back into the bottle is out for good.
by Jonathan Rauch
Last October, Bill Meezan, my cousin, left his home in Columbus, Ohio, for a business trip to Philadelphia. Bill is the dean of Ohio State University's College of Social Work, and he travels quite a bit. In Philadelphia, he thought he felt an old cold coming back. Then he developed a nasty cough. On October 31, he went to the hospital.
He remembers nothing of that day, but Mike Brittenback recalls sharply how doctors in Philadelphia called him in Columbus to say they suspected pneumonia. Mike, an organist and choirmaster, is Bill's partner of 30 years. A few hours later that Friday, they called back to confirm the diagnosis. Mike was concerned but not alarmed.
At 3 a.m. the next day, the phone woke him up. It was a doctor in Philadelphia. Mike needed to come to Philadelphia immediately. Bill had gone into septic shock and might not survive more than a few hours.
* * *
"Here's the key principle," Peter Sprigg, a gay-marriage opponent with the Family Research Council, said in an April radio interview on Southern California's KCRW. "Society gives benefits to marriage because marriage gives benefits to society. And therefore the burden of proof has to be on the advocates of same-sex marriage to demonstrate that homosexual relationships benefit society. Not just benefit the individuals who participate but benefit society in the same way and to the same degree that heterosexual marriage does. And that's a burden that I don't think they can meet."
Can't they?
* * *
Having just been told, at 3 a.m., that his partner of three decades might die within hours, Mike Brittenback was told something else: Before rushing to Bill's side, he needed to collect and bring with him documents proving his medical power of attorney. This indignity, unheard-of in the world of heterosexual marriage, is a commonplace of American gay life.
Frantic, Mike tore through the house but could not find the papers. He would need to retrieve them from a safe-deposit box. Which was at a bank. Which did not open until 9 a.m.
Somehow Mike made it through the next six hours, "crying and frantic and all kinds of awful things running through my mind," fetched the documents, and got on the road. By some higher mercy, those lost hours did not cost Bill his life. When Mike arrived in Philadelphia on Saturday afternoon, Bill was still alive, though in grave danger.
Mike had packed clothes for a week.
* * *
National Review has a cover story this month by Maggie Gallagher, a prominent anti-gay-marriage activist, subtitled: "Why Gay Marriage Isn't Inevitable." She is right, in a sense. Most states explicitly ban same-sex marriage, often by constitutional amendment, and the country remains deeply divided. The national argument over marriage's meaning will go on for years to come.
In another sense, however, she is wrong. Never again will America not have gay marriage, and never again will less than a majority favor some kind of legal and social recognition for same-sex couples. The genie that gay-marriage opponents still hope to stuff back into the bottle is out and out for good.
Oddly, Gallagher, Sprigg, and other gay-marriage opponents don't understand why this has happened. It comes down not to demographics (young people are more likely than their elders to favor gay marriage, but the demographics are changing quite slowly), nor to liberal elites' cultural influence (Gallagher's explanation). It comes down to Mike and Bill.
* * *
At the hospital, Mike found Bill in an induced coma, attached to so much equipment that the only place Mike could touch him without touching a tube was on the forehead.
A vigil began. Mike spent days at Bill's bedside and nights at a hotel. His career and personal life mostly stopped while he fielded queries from friends and relatives, kept in close touch with Bill's anxious parents, and dealt with mail and household business from Columbus. Above all, he managed Bill's care.
Bill had repeated setbacks. Two cardiac arrests. The dialysis machine kept failing. Thrush spread to the lungs. Heart arrhythmia. Hallucinations. Trouble removing a breathing tube. In person by day, on the phone at night, doctors huddled with Mike.
Days stretched into weeks. Thanksgiving came and went. Six weeks passed in Philadelphia. "I never missed a day," Mike recalls. "I felt he needed me there. I really felt he knew I was there. He would smile when I came in, even when he was in an induced coma."
* * *
Peter Sprigg and Maggie Gallagher are cut from different cloths in some respects--Sprigg condemns homosexuality, whereas Gallagher accepts it--but they have in common what they offer to couples like Mike and Bill: silence. The same is true of nearly all other prominent opponents of same-sex marriage. (David Blankenhorn of the Institute for American Values is an honorable exception.)
If gay couples can't be allowed to marry, what should they be able to do? Asked this question, cultural conservatives say, in the words of Tom Lehrer's song about the German rocket scientist Wernher von Braun, "That's not my department." Effectively, conservatives are saying that what Mike and Bill do for each other has no significance outside their own bedroom.
But what happened in that hospital in Philadelphia for those six weeks was not just Mike and Bill's business, a fact that is self-evident to any reasonable human being who hears the story.
"Mike was making a medical decision at least once a day that would have serious consequences," Bill told me. Who but a life partner would or could have done that? Who but a life partner will drop everything to provide constant care? Bill's mother told me that if not for Mike, her son would have died. Faced with this reality, what kind of person, morally, simply turns away and offers silence?
Not the sort of person who populates the United States of America. If Republicans wonder why they find themselves culturally marginalized, particularly by younger Americans, they might consider the fact that when the party looks at couples like Mike and Bill it sees, in effect, nothing.
* * *
By Thanksgiving, Bill was stable enough to be brought out of sedation. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he formulated a plan. Tubes and a tracheostomy prevented talking, but almost as soon as he could write on a whiteboard, he scrawled a message for Mike. "Will you marry me?"
Mike broke down. "I cried. It was tears of joy."
In January, now back in Columbus, Bill was finally released from the hospital, his weight down by more than a fourth. Over the next few months, he underwent weeks of physical therapy, and Mike developed post-traumatic stress disorder, and Bill's mother died, and Bill decided not to renew his deanship. In the press of events, the marriage proposal seemed to recede. In conversations with Mike, Bill equivocated about when to tie the knot.
* * *
Conservatives have a decision to make. They can continue pretending that the bond between Mike and Bill does not exist, is of no social value, or has no place on conservatives' agenda. Doing so would be of a piece with their retreat to economic Hooverism, their embrace of cultural Palinism, and, in general, their preference for purity over relevance.
Or they can acknowledge what to most of the country is already obvious: Whether the nation finally settles on marriage or on something else for gay couples, Bill and Mike are now in the mainstream and the Republican Party is not. If cultural conservatism continues to treat same-sex couples as outside the social covenant, the currents of history will flow right around it, and future generations of conservatives will wonder how their predecessors could ever have made such a callous and politically costly mistake.
* * *
This month, Mike and Bill will vacation on Cape Cod. Mike is expecting to relax. Bill has been shopping, secretly, for wedding rings. His equivocation, of course, is a ruse. Same-sex marriage is legal in Massachusetts. On August 20, without warning Mike, Bill will produce the same whiteboard that he used in the hospital last year, and on it he will again write, "Will you marry me?" Four days later, they will be married in a small ceremony with friends.
"When I asked him to marry me in the hospital," Bill says, "I have never seen a smile on his face like that. I have never seen that kind of joy. Ever. I want to re-create that. And that's why I want this to be a surprise."
And so it will be, reader, if you can keep a secret.
http://www.nationaljournal.com/njmagazine/st_20090808_9125.php
