Wicked

How the hell did they make this into a musical? This is one of the most serious books I've ever read and it's disturbing that way.

It's been a while since I've read the the Wizard of Oz series and longer since I've seen the movie.

This story follows Elphaba, the nameless Wicked Witch of the West. (Name is created from L. Frank Baum - LFB - Elphaba) From her birth, to her death. With big chunks taken out in between. So, the narrative follows her from birth to about 4, and then college, then five years later. The gaps are disconcerting but not terrible.

This is a book about philosophy, not about Oz. There's a great moment when the striped stockings are mentioned, and then the ruby slippers show up. It's 3/4 of the way through the book until Glinda becomes Glinda the Good Witch shows up, thought she's a major character long before that, and Elphaba and her sister are named the Wicked Witches of East and West.

The Wizard is Evil, Dorothy is seen by some as salvation, there's all kinds of religious philosophy and talk about man over beasts, machinery over man, self fulfilling prophecy and all kinds of frightening things.

This is a fascinating book, and when Dorothy shows up, it's both a relief (because Elphaba's life is spiralling out of control) and a burden (because she has to die. Obviously). You actually get emotionally involved in her life, which is a pretty good feat for a woman who is green.

My one problem with this book is the list of reader's questions at the end- suitable for a bookgroup sort of thing. I don't know why, but putting them there really irked me.

I still don't understand how they could make this into a musical. Or how it ended up as a best seller- most things that are serious as this rarely do.

Man Crazy

As usual, Joyce Carol Oates is as creepy and disturbing as hell. Ah. Creepy.

This book follows the story of Ingrid from a five year old to a 21 year old, as her life goes from bad to heartbreakingly worse. Her father came back from Nam broken and angry and is running from policy custody, but not before dropping off his 23 year old wife and 5 year old daughter in a hell hole of a barn to wait it out. Yes, 23 and 5. Ingrid's mother (Chloe) is a year older than I am, not ready to be a mother, really.

So, Ingrid grows up wanting and anxious and not certain of herself in the slightest and turns to sex as a form of approval. Being young and incredibly vulnerable, she gets picked up by the worst kind of male predator, and of course, things get worse from there.

I'm not doing Joyce Carol Oates justice here. She has a way of weaving narrative, remembering and retelling stories in the disjointed, frightening way of someone who's not stable. She makes you believe that the person is real and that they might just slash their wrists in front of you to see if they'll bleed.

But on the whole, the holes in this narrative (no pun intended) aren't filled the way they should be. Oates isn't a linear writer, and it's extremely obvious. She'll give you a moment and then a moment before and then a moment later and gradually the pieces of the puzzle come together in a startlingly beautiful and haunting image.

But in this book, there's a piece or two missing. The ending is satisfying, but there were a few jumps that confused me.

This is not a happy book. Oates is not a happy writer. But she hooks you in, and keeps you there.

Fear and Trembling in Sunnydale

OK, I'm a diehard Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan, and I didn't particuarly like this book. I think you have to be a diehard philosophy fan AND a diehard Buffy fan to like this book. But it didn't do it for me completely.

The first two essays compare Faith & Nieschze and Faith & Aristotle. And they use the exact same examples in the same order. Point by frickin' point. It gets a little old with that sort of thing.

While these essays try to philosophize about the well, philosophies that run through Buffy, they're unsuccessful, dry and unengaging. Remember the body switch episode? Faith uses the line 'you can't do that because it's wrong' over and over again and it evolves throughout the show. Well, someone analyzed that in a paper and they a) missed the point and b) made it sound boring. Poop on them.

They also follow the philosophical episodes which are not the strongest episodes in the entire canon of Buffy. Analyzing Buffy versus the Iniative, while interesting as an idea, is not interesting over the course of a 20 page paper. Or 5 20 page papers.

They did acknowledge Buffyverse's only perfunctory view of religion, which is odd, because it plays a major importance in the idea of the series. That was a good thing.

I think the beauty of Buffy is the subtleness of the philosophy. Yes, sex is bad. Angel = demon after sex. Cordelia gets implanted with demonspawn after a one nighter. Nobody talks about things like this, and instead analyze everything else to death.

Basically, this book tried really hard and missed the point. They're too busy trying to compare to everyone else that they miss what the philosophy of the Buffyverse actually is.

The Bromeliad Trilogy

This is another kick ass kid's book that is great even when you're an adult. In fact, I think I liked it better this go round.

See, I read each of the three book (Truckers, Diggers, and wings) when I was in middle school. They had the books at my school library, and it was one of many books I read to remind myself that I wasn't a lonely loser who had to read sci-fi to escape to a better place.

Well, a few things have changed since then. I'm still a lonely loser, but I've discovered Terry Pratchett since then, and was delighted to find that he wrote those books which I barely remember reading in the sixth grade. I set out to reread and was not disappointed.

Nomes are people about four inches high. They live faster and more difficult lives than humans. Masklin and Grimma (and their elderly charges) have to leave their hovel by a roadside cafe and end up in The Store, inhabited by other nomes. These nomes also have the Thing, a box that has been with them for a long period of time. The Store nomes believe that the benevolent spirit of Arnold Bros (est. 1905) watches over them and provides them with food, shelter, and Bargains Galore keeps them sfe from the devil, Prices Slashed. The Thing, actually a mini super computer, wakes up near the ambient electricity and informs them that the Store will be demolished in 21 days and that they have to take action to leave. All 2000 of the nomes inside, a number that Masklin didn't previously know.

It gets better from there. Inherent in all of this is a kind of humor that pokes fun at religious beliefs, the consumer ethic, and the way we live our lives in general. The description of Grandson Richard, 39, singing in the shower in Wings is truly priceless.

It gets very fanciful. The nomes are actually aliens shipwrecked on Earth from 15,000 years ago and there's a truck to be stolen, then a wrecker thingie, then a satellite. The nomes scavenge french fries and commandeer the lifts to go wherever they please. They take the signs of the Store very literally, and it's quite sharp humor. I find it funnier now than I did when I was 12, but I could easily see a 10 year old howling with glee over some of the passages. This is why Terry Pratchett is the bomb diggity. Oh yes, he is.

The plot of the trilogy is too convoluted to get into in this small critique. There are frogs and deep philosophical issues. It starts in the middle of things (in media res for the classic bluffs) and ends a little later in the middle of things. While it's a satisfying ending, I can't help wishing this was a quartet and not a trilogy. Pratchett hints of the nomes' future, but it's just that, a hint. He won't show you all of his cards, and it's that vague, anxious feeling you get after you fold. Did he only have a pair of threes or a full house?

This series is old enough that we'll probably never know. Alas. I'll regret it.

This is definitely worth a read. Good, solid fluff. And remember: Dogs and strollers MUST be carried at all times.

The Italian Job

Wow. That was a two hour commercial for a mini cooper. And that's about it.

Let's see. Donald Sutherland is a master thief, Mark Wahlberg is his right hand man, and Charlize Theron is his oh so cute daughter. And then there's Ed Norton. Oh yeah, and a lovable band of sidekicks. They're so cute and goofy.

Now, you know from the previews that Donald Sutherland is going to die. And it's not a surprise in the slightest. After making one last score. Because we've never heard that before. They steal lots of gold. Ed Norton is evil, (you can tell because he has a mustache) and steals it from the thieves, shoots Sutherland, and thinks he kills Mark E. Mark and the lovable sidekicks.

A year passes, and Ed Norton has reappeared with the stolen gold, and the still living Mark Wahlberg (though it's hard to tell) and the rest of the lovable gang emerge from their supposed death to go get their gold back. Charlize Theron follows her daddy's legacy as a safe cracker.

The thieves plot. There's gold. And explosions, don't forget those. The movie, however, has no plot. It has no suspense. I mean, with big thief caper movies, there usually isn't, but this is worse than normal. The hook in this type of movie is not if they're going to get the money, but how. And I honestly didn't care. The engaging action sequence at the end never actually engages. You don't see enough about the lovable sidekicks to actually love them. Or even like them. I love Seth Green, but his character was just annoying and badly written.

I feel like someone put a gun to a writer's head and told them to write a crime movie. And the guy turned this out in 2 hour or 3 weeks or whatever, and no one bothered to edit it.

I mean, I'm all for remakes. Ocean's 11 was fantastic.

This was not.

If you end up watching it, just bliss out by watching the mini coopers. And the explosions. And turn off the part of your mind that actually thinks.

All of the actors are pretty to look at. Especially Jason Statham. Just don't listen, so you won't realize how bad the acting is.

Welcome to My Rash & Third

2 World Premieres by Wendy Wasserstein
At Theater J until 2/15/2004

Two one acts as one night of theater. Satsfying, sticks to your ribs theater, which leaves you with a happy feeling, but not much else.

'Welcome to My Rash' follows Flora, an obscure writer, who has found herself with numb feet and an inability to move her upper lip. She meets a doctor, who is her biggest fan EVER, and suggests a course of treatment, which she embarks on. Pumped full of Demerol, she hallucinates about Psyche and hates every minute of the treatment. She wants to stop, and her doctor, perpetually out of town, wants to continue.

She persists, and it eventually works. Somewhat.

That's what I didn't like about this play. The 'somewhat.' I've dealt with being sick before, and with doctors who try to do things and say 'this is what's wrong, this is how you fix it,' and it doesn't work. It's frustrating. It's annoying. I didn't want to remember that again, I guess. I know, I know, theater is not about my personal comfort levels. My opinion.

Wasserstein doesn't villify the doctor. She humanizes him, makes him likeable, but keeps him inaccessible. We don't get insights into each of their lives aside from what they share with each other. They create an unlikely friendship, but they keep it professional, separate.

But there's no real resolution. Where it ends... it ends, but it feels unfinished, so the ending is unsatisfying. Nothing's fixed. Nothing is resolved. Nothing seems to be different, except she got pumped full of Demerol.

'Third' could easily be set in my college. Hyper liberal uberfeminist Shakespeare college professor meets ultra preppy wrestling undergrad. The first half is incredibly funny, and then... the plot happens.

He writes a paper. She thinks he didn't. The audience all knows he did. Why? The character Third (from Woodson Bull III) is set up to be too clean cut, straightforwardly sweet and honest. It's not in his nature to cheat.

As we get inside the crazy professor's head, you see that she's set up her life as her against the Man/world/gov't. Third is kind of an embodiment of that, so she fights against it as best she can. That she's wrong is a big deal for everyone else.

There's a lot of meat here. Apparently, Wasserstein has acknowledged that she wants to make it into a two act. It very easily could be. But the characters are broad sketches, stereotypes. They need to be more human than they are.

Sweet, funny. No life lessons. No big impacts. Stomach full of candy. It was expensive, you enjoyed it, and hey, what's more to it than that?

Master Class

Master Class - a play set in real time. A play based around music. Most of which I don't know. I wished I knew opera to know this. The passion that the characters feel towards music is touching.

The master teacher is a famous opera singer, tutoring students in how to sing. When they sing, she hears herself, her former glory. She's fallen out of favor in the opera world, and the reason why is both inspiring and heart wrenching. She is sweetly detached and batty with her students, the fluttering bird, the diva you always imagine a soprano to be.

Her students are intimated, flustered, and trying to do their best. The accompanyist is struggling, and always, she urges more passion! More passion!

Seen onstage, this play would have entranced you. On paper, it's flatter, harder, not as much fun.

I've decided that Terrence McNally needs to be done onstage to be truly effective. Not quite as good on paper, alas.

Lips Together, Teeth Apart

This was my second Terrence McNally play. (The first was Master Class, which will have a review momentarily) And a good, solid play it is. There's sufficient drama here for any director, dramaturg and actor to sink their teeth into. No character is underwritten, every character is explained.

The asides to the audience are lost in the script. I was very confused why suddenly characters had long monologues full of pain and then returned to the conversation completely normally. As is the swimmer subplot. You'll find out.

But the story is enchanting, things running together, completely hooking you into this weekend. Why does Chloe need to be constantly caretaking everyone? What's up with Sam?

You'll enjoy this play. It'll hook you in and keep you moving through the whole thing.

Best Women Playwrights of 1999

As a whole, a solid anthology. Let's go through the plays one by one.

'Asbtract Expression' by Theresa Rebeck. Dad is an artist. A has-been, actually. He's rediscovered by a gallery owner when his daughter caters the owner's engagement lunch. He kills himself after his opening, then becomes an instant success. The daughter grapples with grief and there's an interesting subplot about the kindly neighbor and his ne'er do well nephew.

It's a good play, but it's not my favorite. The subplot feels like it could be better in a different play altogether, and the art has been story feels like something I've heard or read before. The daughter is a good character, and it's really refreshing to see a strong female main character that isn't a one dimensional simp.

Next is 'The Exact Center of the Universe,' by Joan Vail Thorne. It's a parlor play. In the South. With a mother who loves her son too much. (no, not in that way!)

Guys, we've seen this before. It was big when Freud first came out. Oy. Been there, done that, went on to Jeung.

Granted, it's well done, and it deals with women aging and the transition from mother to grandmother in an interesting way, but it's not the best I've read or seen in quite a while.

Then, 'A Small Delegation' by Janet Neipris. Americans sent into China in 1988 to lecture. This is a very interesting play, and after reading Coming Home Crazy, it feels very familiar and not as shocking to someone who was fresh to the story. But dealing with life after a huge drama and the shift from the Cultural Revolution to the current society is fascinating. This is play is frustrating because the characters run up against so many walls. The people you root for are not perfect. The people you don't like have a likeable quality. The ending is unsatisfying, unsettling. The final note about Tianneman Square brings it all to a quiet close.

I didn't like this play, but I'd like to see it on stage.

'Lobster Alice' by Kira Obolensky.
Q: How many Surrealists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: A fish!

Keep that kind of absurdity in mind while reading this play. Actually, the best answer in this case is 'a lobster,' but what can you do? Cross Salvador Dali with Alice in Wonderland (literally), give a character lobster arms, a couch in an office, a hole in a wall to another world and... well... it's a lovely fantasy that is quite captivating.

I would love to see the theater brave enough to mount this. I think it would be spectacular on a proscenium.

'Fall' by Bridget Carpenter. Swing dancing and scuba diving are metaphors for growth in this sweet and unsettling coming of age story. 14 year old is forced (forced!) to attend a 3 week swing camp with her parents. With no other kids around and the dance instructor and 24-year-old married with a kid guy (who came alone) eying her oddly, Lydia is pretending that she doesn't want to learn how to dance and deal with time until she can go back to school.

I wish I could see this with all of the swing dancing. It would be fantastic. One character is named Dog, the other is named Gopal (which means 'Cowboy'), so the metaphors are just a smidgeon heavy handed.

It's a story about family and trying to adapt as people grow older. Kids mature, lives change, nothing's how you want it to be and what do you do? In this case, dance.

'Last Train to Nibroc' by Arlene Hutton. Cute couple meets on a train going home from LA during WWII. Two dead writers are on the car, and they confess their secret passions to each other and their lives' disappointments so far.

I didn't really like this, but there's a play for everyone. This play is sweet. A grainy 1940s photograph of what life used to be like and what it could be.

All in all, this is a solid anthology. But it's not the best of this series of anthologies. Try Best Women Playwrights of 1994. I thought that was much better.