Alone With Tom

After work one night this week I saw Mission Impossible III in a cavernous theater at my local suburban multiplex. There were five people in the audience; the other four were situated behind me so it was akin to having the place to myself. Even with a couple of laughably glaring plot holes I did enjoy the movie. There’s lots of really cool gratuitous violence; some of it too fast and therefore incomprehensibly blinding but adrenaline-pumping nonetheless. But it’s yet another example of boys-with-computers not knowing when too much is enough. Philip Seymour Hoffman is impressively evil and very matter of fact and convincingly straightforward about it; his character’s childhood must have been a real mess. For some reason I was very aware of everybody’s teeth, I suppose because the screen was so big and I was so up-close and alone with them. Despite what you might think from all the coverage of every facet of his existence, Tom Cruise does not have perfect teeth; everything is slightly skewed to one side so he has an eye-tooth really, right in the middle. Don’t get me started with Lawrence Fishburne. There’s a man with orthodontia probs.

Ode To My New Beach Chair

Honest, this is not a commercial. Honest. I’m pretty much a beach rat and personally rate that as one of my more admirable (if not adorable) traits and I’m pleased to report a new on-line purchase. My old “sand chair” was on its last (short) legs at the end of last summer and I deep-sixed it soon after Labor Day. I knew at the time I would have to get on the stick in ’06 to buy a new one before the really hot weather drives the unprepared into the stores, so I sat down on Sunday and did a Google search, with excellent results.

My new chair is a light-weight, aluminum tubular-structured, canvas-covered (blue), wooden-armed, high-backed, 4-position recliner with a head-rest and cup-holder. What is really cool about it is that it’s also a back-pack with padded-straps and enough room to carry any and all beach accoutrements including a small cooler and, probably, weapons-of-mass-destruction. It’s the grooviest-to-date thing of its ilk I have ever seen. I ordered it from Target and the alacrity of its delivery (Tuesday) was amazing; so it was meant to be.

From the moment I opened the box I was in love with this chair. I set it up in the bedroom to try it out and it was excellently comfortable and I felt the sun in my face, the breeze in my pits and, hey, was that just a touch of salt-spray? I became heavy-lidded with psychological ennui. Would you think I was a major goof if I told you, for this experiment, I also stripped off and put on my Speedo? Maybe I’m admitting to too much here but I have large mirrored closet doors so I was able to get the full visual effect; droopy lids and all. I carried this adventure-in-relaxation even further by subsequently setting the chair up in the living room, a bag of crunchy Cheeto’s in hand and a diet wild cherry Pepsi in the cup holder. I put on the video of Finding Nemo and zoned out. One cool chair and, you know what, that Ellen DeGeneres is some sort of voice-over genius. I had forgotten that.

Further to this theme is that even though the carrying strap is broken, my old beach umbrella is still usable; but now it just won’t do because its rainbow colors are badly and sadly faded and has wispy threads around the edges and is therefore no longer acceptable as a complementary accompaniment to my spiffy new chair. It’s somewhat like having a dynamite wedding dress with inappropriate shoes.

So now I’ve got my eyes and Google peeled for the latest in umbrella design. Unfortunately the outfit that manufactures this chair is not in the umbrella business. Pretty short sighted of them, I must say.

Venturing Into "Opinionism"

Ready or not, here goes with my opinion on some theater I’ve seen recently. As I’ve said before I don’t feel qualified to be a “critic” which, to me, implies “criticism” (and therefore a negative) even though criticism can be both positive and negative. Maybe critics should be called critique-ers or something, thereby allowing more wiggle room. (Sometimes my thinking is just too convoluted for comprehension, even for me.) Anyway, my criticisms are more in the line of “opinionisms” which covers both “ugh” and “sublime” and every adjective in between. My opinion doesn’t really matter, of course…if ever I got quoted in an ad somewhere I would probably drop down dead.

The Three Penny Opera, the 1928 ground-breaking Brecht/Weill musical, Broadway, staged by Scott Elliot with a “new translation” by Wallace Shawn for the Roundabout Theater Company at Studio 54, starring Alan Cummings, Jim Dale and Cyndi Lauper (yes, that Cyndi). You’ll not see a quote from me in any ads because I thought the damned thing pretty much sucked. Mr. Elliot and Mr. Shawn have a lot to answer for because they have brutalized and/or mutilated this classic theater piece. Isaac Mizrahi, the fashionista who designed the costumes, needs to get back to his runway and abandon theater forever. One of my buds, Richard, who had seen it the week before, told me he left at intermission and all I can say is Lucky Richard. But he did miss one of the strangest theatrical conceits I have ever seen. There was no curtain call, which left us all sitting there like idiots, hands poised. I know the theme of this play encourages alienation but why piss-off an audience even further by not letting the actors show up for applause? Those dudes and dudettes work their butts off and deserve our appreciation for doing their best, admittedly in a losing cause; but still, ya know? Very strange indeed and both Scott Elliot and the Roundabout Theater Company should be chastised royally by the theater gods, if not Actors Equity. Luckily, Studio 54 is right next to a joint called the Lizard Lounge and they serve really good mojitos. As it turned out the excellent taste of our chosen libation(s) and the bad taste left by Three Penny drove us to the TKTS booth in Times Square where we were able to score tickets for the evening performance of:

The Lieutenant of Inishmore, Broadway (a transplant from the Royal Shakespeare Company and London’s West End), by Martin McDonough, directed by Wilson Milam at the Lyceum Theater (having transferred from Off-Broadway’s Atlantic Theater Company). Lieutenant is wonderfully theatrical and bloody good. I mean really; it’s bloodily messy and physically violent but I found myself laughing very hard, albeit sometimes in sort of an “oh-jeez” kind of way; you know what I mean? Bloody good about sums it up in many ways. Hardly original on my part but there’s your quote, be my guest.

The play “Well” is a rare phenomenon in that it breaks many of the traditions of “normal” theater and, well, keeps you off balance in unusual ways (btw, I put Well in quotes because the word itself gets confusing as a title of a play). You must pay attention, which is sometimes ignored by the tourist trade. Written by and starring Lisa Kron, directed by Leigh Silverman, on Broadway at the Longacre Theater (it originated downtown at The Public), with an amazing supporting performance by Jayne Houdyshell. I loved it because it was theatrically entertaining on many levels and made me think, and I love theater that makes me think. Sadly, the show didn’t beat the odds and draw audiences like it should have and deserved. The closing notice has been posted for May 14.

Next up, Some Girl(s) by Neil LaBute, directed by Jo Bonney, Off-Broadway at the Lucille Lortel Theater starring Eric McCormack and Fran Drescher. Yes, that Fran. Is this the Will & Nanny show? Oh, jeez.

Wordplay; A Puzzlemeister's View

Have you seen the publicity for that new documentary called “Wordplay?” It was supposedly this year’s sleeper hit at the Sundance Film Festival (if you think that’s a PR blurb, you’re probably right). The movie’s subject is the New York Times crossword puzzle; Will Shortz (its editor), and the passion slathered on it by a myriad of devotees, famous and not (Bill Clinton, The Indigo Girls and your run-of-the-mill idiot…with whom I identify). I’m trying to get my own thoughts around my obsession with it.

I am not passionate about any other kind of puzzle or even other crosswords; so why the Times? As you can see on this here blog I do like wordplay (and sometimes a good game of Scrabble) but the Times puzzle has become more than recreational for me and is almost a requirement for my daily ease-of-mind. So what’s up with that? Some people think the puzzle (and The Times itself) is elitist and maybe I like being in that fringe. But I don’t think that’s really it even though I think I’m the only person in my office (approx. 100 souls) that buys the Times. Most of my buds don’t read it either, much less work the puzzle and, horrors, the bums make fun of me for doing it. Like I care.

A little side note here; on Long Island where I work it is almost impossible to even buy the Times because the vendors “see no need to carry it” because it just doesn’t sell. That perplexes me somewhat but that’s a whole ‘nother subject.

I moved to NYC in the early 70’s and I was hooked on the Time’s puzzle almost immediately…so that’s 30+ years of staring at unfulfilled little squares. I got better at it as the years rolled by and can now usually finish them, but not always. That “not always” is significant because if I could finish them all, without fail, I would probably stop trying…where’s the challenge?

A little basic knowledge you should know: starting on Mondays the puzzles get more difficult as the week rolls by. With some practice you could probably do Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday in pen (I don’t) but by Thursday I suggest a pencil. By Friday it’s necessary and by Saturday you’re flirting with suicide if you use a pen; I so hate those cross-outs and also your fingers become paralyzed with the fear that you’ll make a mistake. The difficulty on Saturday is not always in the answers but in the clues. On Monday the clue will be “Former Senator Bob;” on Wednesday “Brit. welfare system;” on Thursday “Pineapple clan” and Saturday “Distribute.” It all comes down to being on the Dole, but you get my drift.

The reason for the acceleration of difficulty is obvious. Monday’s are hard enough on the average working stiff without battering your brains out with a difficult puzzle. This could be part of the reason why it’s so easy to get hooked. It’s because you can finish the Monday puzzle without too much angst and as the week goes by you’re more prepared for the harder stuff.

Although Sunday’s puzzle always has a title and thus a clue to its theme; during the week you just have to wing it. Also, the Sunday puzzle can be easy or practically impossible depending on the whim of the editor. Its main feature is that it’s just physically much larger than during the week and therefore possibly more daunting, and I think it’s meant more for leisure solving (you can fiddle with it for an entire week) than in the high pressure 24-hour turn-around Monday - Saturday.

I haven’t seen “Wordplay” but I plan on filling in that blank soon. Getting down with Mission Impossible III consumes me at the moment.