. . . SO ROSIE WENT HOME

When I was growing up, one of my Dad's favorite hoary old jokes was, "Everyone was feeling rosy . . . so Rosie went home."

Rosie O'Donnell is a wild, passionate, emotional person, full of humor and smart observations. She is committed Mom to four kids, committed to her wife, committed to her love of theater, and enormously outspoken. A larger-than-life personality. I often find that my political views are exactly in line with hers.

But Rosie suffers from depression (as do I), and often looks to get her feelings hurt. It is one thing to feel free to put your thoughts out there. But you can't expect people to flip their opinions, even if they LIKE you, and defend your thoughts and actions against their own.

Elisabeth Hasselbeck is pretty, charming, smart, straight-as-they-come, and also outspoken--and as conservative as Rosie is liberal. They claim (or claimed) to love each other on THE VIEW and to respect each other's right to disagree. At times, neither of them listen very carefully to what the other is saying, so eager are they to get their points of view out there. For those who love to argue and debate, the hammer home approach is popular because, frankly, it's fun and aggressive. But you will note that my all-time favorite conservative--and one of the world's classiest intellectuals--was William F. Buckley, who never had to shout or hammer to make his point. He'd simply put it out there for you to agree or disagree.

Rosie got upset when Fox News, which Elisabeth loves, misappropriated Rosie's words, saying that Rosie call our troops "terrorists," which Rosie denies. She feels our government's actions create terror in other countries, which I agree with, but knows that the troops are following the orders of their leaders and risking their lives to defend our rights even under dubious circumstances. Again, I agree--and find spurious those who take opposing views to the war as disloyalty to the troops, which is a cheap and disingenuous argument used to enrage emotions and deflate opposition.

But Rosie tried to trap Elisabeth into saying that Fox News was inappropriate and conservative and further tried to box her into a position where she would have to deny her own comments in support of Fox News in order to support Rosie--it had to be one way or the other. Elisabeth said to her that she (Rosie) was a grown woman who could defend her own viewpoints. Rose called her a coward. And then Rosie asked to be released from the remaining three weeks of her contract from THE VIEW and ABC obliged.

I'm not playing with you anymore. You hurt me.

C'mon, Rosie. If you and Elisabeth can't find ways to play nicely together--and you supposedly like each other--then what hope is there for us to solve wars and major world conflicts. What kind of message are you sending your kids if you walk away pouting when you don't get your point of view validated the way you want it to be? I know what you wanted from Elisabeth and I don't disagree with your desire or your opinion, and I would have liked Elizabeth to have admitted Fox's manipulation (Elisabeth does tend to buy whole packages without looking or questioning the ingredients) but your BEHAVIOR sandbagged her, and your subsequent BEHAVIOR damages your credibility and your cause. A leader takes the licking and keeps on ticking, and the ways you move beyond the petty is even more of an inspiration and example than the actual argument itself. Taking your toys and going away is not the appropriate action--as Sanford Meisner used to say, "An ounce of behavior is worth a pound of words." And if the war can't be discussed or even argued about between friends, then nothing is ever going to be resolved. Is this really the message you want to send, the legacy you want to leave on THE VIEW?

MORE GOOD REVIEWS FOR "EDDIE"

A pleasant surprise--a new review from T.F. Rice, Hidden Valley Farm, Publisher of THE OTHER HERALD in Perry, NY.

Helping Allergic Kids (& Others) Feel Better About Their Peculiarities!
19 Apr 2007
by T. F. Rice
Author Judd Lear Silverman offers up encouraging words disguised as fun in the story EDDIE HAS ALLERGIES. Full of rhyming and other wordplay, this is a story the kids will want to finish. Laughter is one of the best medicines! And reading a story about someone else having similar difficulties can make a big difference in a worrisome child's life.

Allergies are an extremely relevant topic these days. If it is difficult for an adult to "deal with" their allergies, it must be awful for a kid to do so. Help is on the way... Silverman can't wave a wand and make the allergies go away... with mere words... but he's proved he can make a kid feel better in other ways! Hip- hip- hooray! -T.F.Rice

Now if I can just spread the word . . . !

IN PRAISE OF "DANCING"

In tandem with severe spring allergy season comes "TV Finale Season," and some of the symptoms are the same for both--watery eyes, a queasy feeling in the pit of the stomach, congestion and general malaise. TV Finale Season is characterized by end-of-season, end-of-series finales for dramas and comedies, while competition shows present their finals and/or semi-finals.

Many dramas suffer from cliffhangeritis, the need to overload their final show with so much bad news that those who are involved with their favorite characters simply won't rest until next fall--when they find out that the big deal their hero was going through was merely a blip they'll forget about by the first commercial.

In the hour-long department, GREY'S ANATOMY takes the prize for stuffing more melodramatic claptrap into an hour than just about any other show. The show, once one of the more intelligent offerings, has gotten enormously mushy, throwing in every kind of classic, melodramatic twist. On this season's finale, there was desertion at the altar on a wedding day, careers destroyed, memories restored and loves betrayed, near-death and break-ups by those who were "meant to be together." The smart and subtle shadings that made the show so watchable have been flattened out into heavy, even leaden layers of black and white. It's not fun to watch an hour of endless hand wringing. I simply don't care who Izzie's in love with anymore. George and Callie should grow up. Meredith can go ahead and jump back in the river. At least Addison's smart enough to go off and get her own show, (to be called PRIVATE PRACTICE) with much wittier characters and more believable conflicts and dialogue (at least in the pilot).

Far better scores go to GILMORE GIRLS, which ended seven years with far more subtlety: Rory's heading off to cover the campaign trail, her first job as a reporter, and while she's saying good-bye, friends and family make temporary peace, saying the things they wish they'd said in daily conversation. No one rushed to a quick decision--no flash marriages nor deaths--and while the possibilities for happily-ever-after were introduced (yes, Luke & Lorelei finally kissed after Luke threw a going-away extravaganza for Rory against all odds), we got the sense that these people would go on living their normal lives while Rory began her coverage of Barak Obama's campaign. That this show exited with some dignity is gratifying, especially when it began the season without the flippant wit that had previously characterized its charmingly dizzying manner.

And MEDIUM ended a multi-part cycle without losing its head (although many characters lost theirs!). The fact is that after all the bad behavior, Alison just walked into a meeting, pronounced the real killer and said "You want the details? I'll fill you in later!" Classic, fun, AND time-saving. These people knew we'd been watching and trusted we could handle it. We're not going away this summer worried to death about Alison, Joe and the kids--hopefully, after all they've been through, they'll get some rest and be fresh and ready come the fall!

But the real thriller comes this week.

No, not the AMERICAN IDOL finale--it figures that in a country that elected this administration for a second term and wonders why the world is in such deplorable condition, the remarkable grace, skill and talent of Melinda Doolittle would be passed over in favor of the moderately talented but cute Jordin and Blake. Let's face it--skill is not rewarded in this country, and intelligence is looked down on as an elitist activity! Sad, very sad.

No, I refer to the consistently entertaining DANCING WITH THE STARS on ABC, where after an increasingly competitive series of performances and eliminations, there are three couples left standing, only one of whom can take away the mirror ball: Laila & Max, Joey & Kym, Apolo and Juliana. Unlike IDOL, the contestants are "adults" who have trained hard, taken what the judges have told them to heart, and have put on their best game time after time. It's really impossible to predict who will win--all are so very different, and yet equally deserving. The suspense is terrific. But then think about it--how many shows appeal to so many different ages and demographics? This is a show that families actually want to watch together. The musical guests come from numerous age groups and music types, as diverse as the contestants themselves. Judges actually talk about the fine points of ballroom dancing ( toes turned out versus in, breathing through the whole body, posture) and people are enthralled. Everyone learns something and has a good time. The show is thrilling, with an expert hosting turn from Tom Bergeron. I don't even dare to predict the winner--but we'll be watching!

PARIS IS BURNING

Paris Hilton is going to jail in June. For 45 days. Just enough time to pick up some fashionable accessories that go with stripes. And a little orange jumpsuit for her chihuahua.

For those living under a rock, you may wonder why the poor little heiress is being tormented. Well, she violated her probation (twice), driving with a suspended license, which came from a DUI arrest this fall.

Eve, the rap "artist" also made news for DUI, as did (it seems) thirteen thousand other celebs and wannabe celebs. In fact, DUI seems to be replacing eating disorders as the attention-getting device of those who would be stars. (Maybe it's just that they lack the secret ingredient--talent--that makes them have to work harder for the attention.) But then again, while eating disorders are distressful to others but mostly dangerous to the individual, driving while intoxicated threatens everyone's health and well-being, making it that much more potent--in terms of garnering attention, that is.

Why, oh, why does the media insist we care?! Is the situation in Darfur so sad that they know we won't watch THAT footage, so they give us Paris entering and leaving a courtroom, fashionably attired? (The world got to see Naomi Campbell's daily outfits for her community service, served for beating the umpteenth assistant with a cell phone or a vibrator or a Nordic track or something--we remember the walk to and from but not even the crime, thanks to the cameras!) Does the Bush administration have such a stranglehold on actual war statistics and battle coverage that instead the media outlets go to such desperate places as releasing tapes of David Hasselhoff falling off the wagon and being berated by his kids for doing so? Are we feeling so impotent at brokering peace in the Middle East that instead we concentrate on brokering some kind of truce between Alec Baldwin and Kim Basinger? (Come now, is calling your daughter a "rude little pig" truly that bad a misdemeanor? And for all we know, maybe she IS behaving like a rude little pig--show me a kid who hasn't at some time or other!)

Something has gotten very corrupt in the media and no one is saying a word. It is like the news outlets are turning a blind eye to that which might sadden or even enrage the populace, choosing instead to stuff us with the meaningless exploits of debutantes. Even You Tube, developed as the people's reporting site, appears to be manipulated by those seeking attention. How did Eddie Griffin's destruction of a rare Ferrari make it to the air so quickly? Michael Richards' seemingly racist meltdown? Mike Daisey's contretemps with a Catholic school group walking out on his show en masse? And who leaked the Baldwin phone message to the media anyway? (Do YOUR personal phone messages end up on national television?)

Manipulating the media has become THE game of the century. He who rules the media rules the world (something Rupert Murdoch has had embroidered on his pillows for decades). And so we get further and further from the truth we can't or don't wish to face. Foreclosures on homes are at an all-time high, the private farms of this nation are disappearing as fast as the polar ice caps (which if you haven't noticed are melting even faster than predicted). But why think about these things when we can worry whether or not Paris will be treated like all the other prisoners?!

Again and again, our apathy let's these media mavens get away with their nefarious deeds. If we withheld our viewing AND OUR DOLLARS, perhaps we would get some respect. Our power is in our purchasing power, in viewing numbers. Until we display a healthy show of outrage, they will continue to laugh at us. Can't we tell them no?!

Until then, I can hardly wait to see what Paris is putting on her iPod for her stay--Jailhouse Rock, anybody?

A PRAYER FOR ELASTICITY

Mendy: A Question of Faith first came out in 2003 and drew attention at several film festivals. Dealing with a young Hassid in exile form the Hassidic community and encountering a hedonistic lower east side/alphabet city NYC, it questions how modern religion (or rather, religion not modernized) fails to provide an in-between for those torn between extremism and an identity that allows personal spirituality into modern life. Adam Vardy's film is not the most sophisticated perhaps, shot inexpensively and written in rather earnest tones, is still quite brave in the questions it asks, it's unwillingness to settle for easy answers, and for the very fact that it's a film that while pointed will always have a hard time finding its audience. (Those who are religious will balk at the sex, the drugs, the rock and roll. Those who would be hip to the world portrayed will resist looking at a film that deals with religion and spirituality. Much of it is in Yiddish with subtitles. Not at all an easy sell.) But while the story's a bit schematic, a terrific performance by Ivan Sandomire at its center keeps it watchable, and it's a film that strangely becomes more and more a part of your thoughts the further you move away from it. It has staying power in your brain.

Which leads me to elasticity. It seems that the problem the world has now, more than any other, is its blind faith in absolutes--I'm right, he's wrong, it's got to be all one way. This bleeds into any discussion of the situation in Iraq, into politics, religion, even (to some degree) the horrifying massacre this past week at Virginia Tech. (In that case, rigidity calcified all the way into depraved indifference for human life.) Most philosophies and religions are ideas for life, and life takes so very many forms. Yet we seem to view things in concrete--a substance created by man. It is said that if you chip away at religion, chipping off the parts you don't like to accommodate the present, you soon will have nothing left. Maybe. But God (or your concept of God, fill in your own blank) created trees and plants that bend in the breeze so they won't snap, and a carefully pruned plant actually grows back stronger, healthier, better able to sustain life. When religions fail to incorporate the changes that have happened in life to our society and culture in the name of remaining pure, they are ultimately failing their purpose, which is to provide security and spirituality to those who turn to them for guidance. Absolutes maybe easier to understand or to swallow, but they are not healthy to follow. Views of women, of sex, of education, of culture--these have changed considerably of the past few centuries, and while the seeds of most religions provide wonderful tenants to construct a life, the rigidity of most "organized" religions fail to give a livable road map that can help people live realistic modern lives. Religion should not be an all or nothing thing but rather a guidance system, a place where man can get in touch with his deepest spirituality. Instead, it uses guilt to control a mob who are afraid to think for themselves or are too confused to know what is best for their own lives. Denial of reality depletes energy, even in the service of only maintaining pure or positive thoughts. Elasticity serves best in any relationship, be it between man and woman, man and man, or man and God. It allows one to find the best in each other and in ourselves, it encourages forgiveness and understanding. It accepts, even as it controls and provides boundaries. Pray by all means--but pray for the ability to flow with the changing times and follow the bungee cord so that you can find your way back to solid ground.

Mendy: A Question of Faith is now available on DVD.

"And the animals will love it if you do . . . "

(Do you remember what 60's pop legend wrote that lyric? The answer at the bottom of this entry!)

This coming Tuesday, April 17th at 7:30, is another wonderful Playwrights for Pets evening, entitled Fairy Tales: Shaken, Stirred & With a Twist. (Playwrights for Pets, according to the website, "was created to produce play readings in support of organizations dedicated to animal welfare." The April 17 performance will benefit Animal Haven.) The evening will feature plays by Janet Demarest, Judith Estrine, Ron Frankel, Maureen Hennigan and yours truly (Never Wear a Dead Man's Shoes--that's the piece of mine they're doing, not just a warning!). The terrific cast features Erin Cronican, Brian Fuqua, Elizabeth Gee, Laura Gillis, John Moss, Arlene Nadel, Barry Steely and Dana Watkins. Did I mention show time is 7:30 PM and that there's a free wine reception afterwards? It all takes place at the Baruch Performing Arts Center - "an incubator for the arts" - at 55 Lexington Avenue at 25th Street. There is a $10 suggested donation. Call (718) 768-4213 for reservations or e-mail gracomal@pipeline.com. For more information, visit www.playwrightsforpets.com.

The evening is recommended for "mature audiences." But of course, you're mature--or you wouldn't be reading this blog, now would you? Nor would you have been able to answer the trivia question above. (If you couldn't, it's by Paul Simon, a song called "At the Zoo" from his days with Art Garfunkel. "Something told me it's all happening at the zoo/I do believe it/I do believe it's true . . . " It goes on to tell what a great time you'll have if you go there and . . . "the animals will love it if you do . . . ")

Hey, it was a long week!

OH, WILBUR!!!

No, we're not talking about Mr. Ed here.

If anyone owes a debt for their continuing existence in the English-speaking 21st century, it is Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, better known to the masses as France's best-known dramatist, Moliere. And the debt he owes is to the brilliant 20th-century poet and translator, Richard Wilbur.

Though a gifted poet in his own right, the marriage of Wilbur's vivacious verse translations with Moliere's devlish satires is one made in literary heaven. There have been many other attempts to recreate Moliere's wit and his verse, but few have matched the genius and theatricality that Wilbur's translations have wrought. (Tony Harrison's unusual adaptation of THE MISANTHROPE does come to mind, but that was for a very special production featuring Diana Rigg and Alec McCowen, if memory serves.)

The ability to experience this wonderful cross-time collaboration is currently offered by a clear, literate and entertaining production of THE LEARNED LADIES, currently on display for the final weekend at The Gallery Players in Brooklyn. Efficiently directed by Neal J. Freeman, the play moves at galloping clip that keeps the satire and story alive and yet at the same time allows you to savor the words of master craftsmen in action. A colorful design scheme keeps the show visually lively, and there are standout performances by Heather Siobhan Curran, Patrick Toon and Laura Heidinger among others. While New York City always has enough Shakespeare to shake a stick at most seasons, we don't get enough opportunities to celebrate the French master. Here's an opportunity to see why he's hung on so long--presented by the folks who make his work and memory continue on as living, breathing theater.

Now through April 15th at The Gallery Players, 199 14th Street (between 4th & 5th Aves) Brooklyn. Buy tickets online at www.galleryplayers.com-OR- call (212) 352-3101.

GOING WITH THE FLOW IS NO "SECRET"

Millions are reading "The Secret," Rhonda Byrne's best-seller that claims to provide the secret of enormous success in life. Utilizing quotes from philosophers and scholars living and not, Byrne tells about the Universe's generosity and the Law of Attraction, wherein whatever we wish for, we can attain. Our thoughts are like magnets and whatever we think, good or bad, we bring back to us. Ask. Believe. Receive. Byrne and her team of experts claim this is the ancient method to wealth, health and happiness. It may even help with obesity and cancer. (And if the book doesn't do it for you, there's a video and an audio book that can help.) Most importantly for book sales, Oprah endorses it, claiming she's known the secret all along. (But Oprah can do her own promotions, she doesn't need my help.)

Believe it or not, I'm not going to debunk it. For one thing, I'm still working my way through it, so it would be unfair. But for another, there's much to be admired in it. A positive attitude is imperative to get what you need in life, while negative thinking does lead to despair and depression. No doubt. Positive visualization has indeed been proven an effective aid in not only modern AND ancient medicine, but likewise in people setting and attaining goals. Figuring out what you want and giving it words, a shape, some tangibility is crucial in the process of organizing and energizing one's life. And it is true that negative thinking can lead to a downward spiral, whereupon one brings disaster upon oneself as a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. The book even suggests creating a list of things that give you warm and positive feelings, such that you can snap yourself out of self-destructive behaviors and thoughts. So in a very real sense, the book does raise valid points to incorporate into one's thinking.

However . . .

(You knew that was coming.)

However, where I question (at this point--remember, still reading!) is where the book advocates careful control of one's thoughts. The abundant universe is non-judgemental about your thoughts, returning all of them back to you with interest, be they positive or negative. Thus, if you have a bad thought, you may be bringing bad thoughts back to you, collecting bad karma. If wishing for something, you should ask the universe, believe you are receiving it and act as if you've already received it. Fine, but if you have problems doing that or if you have a moment of doubt, then you have put the whammy on yourself.

Now, the fact is, anything that requires you to monitor yourself that self-consciously has got to be problematic. And anything that leaves you feeling one false thought will lead to dire consequence is bound to make anyone a bit neurotic. Denying what you feel--and we all have a mix of good and bad feelings from moment to moment--takes away energy. "Blocking" all negative thoughts is actually an energy draining activity. We must live in the moment, and no one's moments are all good and happy. Trying to control how we think and feel and respond at all moments drains life of spontaneity, and while we may wish to be positive forces in the universe at all times, NO ONE is, not 24/7.

It is not Byrne's encouragement that I'm negating. It is the intensity being suggested in the pursuit of the positive goals.

My recommendation: plant positive seeds in your brain as a matter of course. Indeed, do set goals, and do try to imagine living those positive fantasies. Such activities cannot but help. However, go with the flow--be honest with all your feelings and emotions and don't try to shut out those which may not please you or may not serve. Whatever that feeling you may have, it is yours and you must own it, otherwise the denial will cost you far more energy than the acceptance of it. Trying to control or hold onto life too tightly, be it a negative or even a positive moment, leads to a backing up, a constipation of the natural flow of life. We cannot control each moment in time, nor should we want to control it. The beauty and the discovery of life happens with ease, an ease that comes with acceptance. By going with and contributing to a natural flow, we grow, change, build. We participate, we don't stand on the sidelines waiting only for that we are sure is the good stuff. Sure, we may make mistakes, but by being involved in the process of even a mistake, we grow and learn. And this doesn't mean we don't make commitments -- indeed, a good relationship is continuous but not stagnant. Our love is not made of cement like a house's foundation but rather is loose and flowing, tethered perhaps but allowing for changes of current.

Healthy dialogue allows for contradiction, opposition. Byrne describes the law of attraction as like attracting like, but haven't we also heard that opposites attract? And don't we have evidence to support it? Magnets? Ying and Yang? James Carville and Mary Matalin?

In short, don't hold life to tightly. Yes, take the positive approach and dream as big and brightly as you can. Love as much as you can (which Byrne endorses). But to spend life cautiously, to act as if it all might break, to walk on eggshells constantly--that can't be conducive to good emotional health! Nature gives us the good and the bad as part of the cycle. If you want one part, you must accept the whole package.

But who knows? I'll finish the book. Maybe I'll change my mind. I'm staying positive.

THE VANISHING NETWORK AUDIENCE

Well, what did they expect?! ABC is shocked that its viewership has dropped substantially for their supposed blockbuster, the Emmy-winning LOST, on Wednesday nights.

I must confess, I'm not a viewer of the fading hit--I saw a moment here and a moment there and was neither taken by its so-called charms nor willing to invest in its complicated storylines. But I know there are those who view it (or used to view it) as religiously as I view, say, MEDIUM or HOUSE (or MY FAVORITE MARTIAN re-runs, which are proving delightful!). From what I gather, it's a fairly high-quality enterprise--LOST, that is.

So why is it fading?

Perhaps the same reason that 6 DEGREES, with its fabulous cast of talented actors like Hope Davis and Campbell Scott, can't find an audience. Perhaps the same reason that the infectiously naughty MEN IN TREES keeps losing steam, despite some truly inventive scripts and the best range of characters since NORTHERN EXPOSURE. Maybe the same reason that BROTHERS & SISTERS isn't growing despite a Sally Field, Calista Flockhart, Rachel Griffiths AND Patricia Wettig--the award-power alone is dizzying!

But let's ask the killer questions: WHEN DID IT EVER MAKE SENSE TO KEEP INTERRUPTING RUNS OF SHOWS?! WHEN DID IT MAKE SENSE TO KEEP SLIDING SHOWS ALL AROUND THE SCHEDULE SO YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN TO CATCH THE PROGRAM, EVEN WITH A VCR/DVR?! Of course, ABC is not the only network to do this--they all do it now. But don't they ever notice that audiences don't want to invest in shows, particularly shows with building storylines, if they don't feel they will get to see all the episodes in sequence. Whatsmore, some of these shows (however worthwhile) then get cancelled because they "couldn't attract an audience"--and those who were into them don't even get the benefit of a satisfactory conclusion.

MEN IN TREES, for example, is rumored to have survived to next season, but who can believe them? They moved the show from Friday evenings to Thursdays immediately after GREY'S ANATOMY, which seemed a sign of faith--but then it was only there for a couple of episodes, then it was interrupted, then put into re-runs, then finally allowed a new episode, and then . . . hiatus, with no promise of return. (But then, remember, this is ABC, who has lazily scheduled re-broadcasts from the previous evening of GREY'S ANATOMY on Fridays at 8pm rather than come up with something new and inventive.)

Folks, whatever school programmers are going to is doing a poor job of educating them! Loyalty comes from viewers when the networks respect the viewers--and give shows a chance to build their following. Need I remind anyone that CHEERS and SEINFELD and ALL IN THE FAMILY were at the bottom of the ratings in their first seasons, and it was only the faith of the programmers--and the gift of time to catch on--that resulted in the creation of long-running television classics.

Frankly, it's not that we'd all rather watch amateurs doing silly, dangerous and occasionally talented things on so-called "reality" shows. It's just that we want to watch something that won't be taken away from us so readily. Otherwise, we just watch something mindless to kill time (and frankly, there's not a lot of time left in the day to kill!).

Finally, consider that shows like SEX AND THE CITY, THE SOPRANOS and SIX FEET UNDER, all HBO shows that were cultural landmarks, were allowed to run because their numbers were good for CABLE; they were allowed to become part of the water cooler discussion world because they were around long enough to evoke a response. Had these same shows posted the exact same numbers on NETWORK television, they would have been long gone after the first season. Isn't it time to realize that with all the options out there, there can be all kinds of programming that is valid for specialized audiences? There's no need to try to find one show that fits all sizes--because it doesn't exist and never will.

Why are viewers going away, Networks? Who wants to enter into a cynical situation willingly? We want to know you'll still respect us in the morning.

Of course, I should talk--this is my first blog in weeks after a lengthy break. Are you still there, readers? Life is getting better--I promise to write more often!

HERE & THERE

Now through March 11th, Brooklyn's Gallery Players is doing a lovely, simple and affecting production of VIOLET, with book & lyrics by Brian Crawley and music by Jeanine Tesori. (Tesori is the talented composer behind CAROLINE OR CHANGE and THOROUGHLY MODERN MILLIE). The tale of a young woman's bus journey to get a facial scar healed in the 1960's, it is really about a journey to discover the beauty inside her soul. Along the way, Violet meets two young soldiers who are enthralled by her, as well as many interesting fellow passengers on the bus and strange characters at stopovers along the route. M.R. Goodley has done a lovely and economical job staging the piece on the Gallery's small stage, and musical director Jeffrey Campos makes the most of the vocally gifted cast. It would be wrong to start singling out members of this tightly knit ensemble, but one cannot help but fall for the charming Rhyn McLemore who capably carries the show as Violet. (As her two soldier suitors, Flick & Monty, Collin Howard and Shad Olsen give able support.) This is one of those shows that Gallery does so well--small off-Broadway gems that didn't get the broader exposure one would wish them. See it during its last two weekends--who knows when you'll have the chance again?!

Further information can be found at www.galleryplayers.com. Individual tickets for each performance are $18 for Adults and $14 for Children 12 and under and Senior Citizens. Individual tickets can be purchased at www.galleryplayers.com or by calling (212) 352-3101. Performances take place Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8PM, and Sundays at 3PM.

DISCLAIMER: The author is NOT a professional reviewer, and is indeed friends with many at the Gallery Players. However, this is a blog site, comprised of opinions of the author. If I didn't like the show, I probably just wouldn't write about it. Consider this "review" as a friend passing on the word about other friends' good work.

ON BROADWAY

David Hare is one of the major playwrights working both sides of the Atlantic, with such hits as PLENTY, THE SECRET RAPTURE, STUFF HAPPENS, VIA DOLOROSA and THE BLUE ROOM, as well as the screenplay for THE HOURS. (Later this season, he'll direct Vanessa Redgrave in Joan Didion's THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING.) So one could understandably get excited about the idea of seeing Julianne More and Bill Nighy, two of our more interesting, risk-taking film actors appearing onstage in Hare's THE VERTICAL HOUR. Unfortunately, in performance, you'll be more likely to be thinking about how soon they'll let you rest horizontally. It's not the actors' fault--they give competent, committed performances--and the script is high-minded with some interesting ideas, but it feels like all the action (and passion) has happened in the past and now they all just talk about it. And talk. And talk. Deeply held secrets are ultimately unsurprising, and the dark night of the soul just somehow doesn't dig deep enough. (And if reporters are supposed to stay objective, why is being a war correspondent a profession that "helps people"?) The set and lighting is simple but effective, and the whole evening has a professional sheen, but quite frankly, it's just not all that interesting. (At the Music Box Theatre on Broadway.)

MUST SEE

A bit further under the radar than AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH, (the stunning documentary about global warming and the fight being waged by Al Gore) is a film that is even more disturbing--WHO KILLED THE ELECTRIC CAR? Narrated by America's fantasy President (Martin Sheen, long a political activist when not Jed Bartlett on The West Wing), this is the tale of America's electric car--not a fantasy but a functioning reality that was then quashed by the forces who support the continuing dependence on oil--ie., the oil companies, the car manufacturers, and, oh yes, those Texas oilmen who run Washington. (Just yesterday, it was announced that the fuel efficiency calculations the Bush Administration has been using for calculating estimated miles per gallon are off by at least 20 years in terms of the technology and driving patterns of American citizens.) The documentary tracks from the time California Air Resources Board mandated a reduction in fuel emissions from the country's auto manufactures, leading to an active search to create newer, more fuel-efficient vehicles. (Political pressure eventually caused California to repeal their own measures.) Apparently, GM and several other companies created the EV1, an electric car that could be plugged in at home to charge and would get at least 60 miles per charge--with no emissions and at a much lower fuel cost than either gas or the hydrogen fuel cell technology being touted as this administration's favored "alternate" energy source. Since the average American driver only drives 29 miles a day, this was not a bad alternative. The EV1 owners loved them passionately, not only for their "green solution" but because they were quiet, stylish and handled beautifully. But this threatened American oil interests and so the cars had to die--literally. (The most powerful section of the film is when GM recalls all their leases for the EV1's, literally hauling them all away and crushing them rather than allowing them to exist on the road as an example of what could be.) This film, sadly, explains much about what has gone crazy in this country and the ways in which power has been grossly misused. Governments don't protect us or our future--they're here to service the business activities of those in power, the oil people. And hence you have the war in Iraq, the ravaging of nature preserves for petroleum resources, global warming and high prices at the gas pumps.

Of course, documentaries these days are no more held to journalistic ethics than is, say, the White House. Facts can be distorted, and numbers can be made to add up any way you please. (Michael Moore is an entertainer first, after all, and an effective one even as he gets us all riled up.) But so much of this story was clearly under-reported that we all missed a major event going on under our very noses--and at a time when the battle over fuel is key to all major economic discussion in this country. If this film doesn't raise your dander, nothing will. (Who Killed the Electric Car?, following a national theatrical release, is now available on cable on-demand.)

MUSIC. MUSIC, MUSIC

OH, MY NOLA (Harry Connick, Jr., Columbia)

Harry Connick, Jr., has done it again. This multi-talented artist just keeps getting better with time, stretching himself with wide ranges of music and performance experience. (His turn on Broadway last season in The Pajama Game was a big hit.) But perhaps the biggest sign of his maturity as an artist is that his work no longer needs to be THAT important—that one can play and dabble in different areas and create freely, joyfully, without holding on too tightly. Some of Harry’s earlier albums were marked by earnestness, a sense that this was an amazingly gifted prodigy. (Though completely different in style, one might say the same of Josh Groban’s efforts—incredibly gifted but a bit precious at this, still the start of the game.) The last few efforts Harry has made, however, are born of confidence. No longer having anything to prove, he can just cut loose and make music. This was true of his last popular music album, the highly enjoyable Only You, and now it’s even more evident in Oh, My Nola. The art is so good that it’s artless and Harry is just plain having FUN—and so do we with this collection old time favorites re-visited, songs it would be great fun late on a Saturday night in a honky-tonk or club to revisit. “Working in a Coal Mine,” “Won’t You Come Home, Bill Bailey?” “Jambalaya (on the Bayou)” . . . the effect is infectious fun, with Harry sounding relaxed and the arrangements sounding by turns hot and playful. Looking for something fun to listen to—this is it!

NOT TOO LATE (Nora Jones, Blue Note)

Meanwhile, Nora Jones has returned with a third album, Not Too Late, another collection of sultry and sublime numbers rendered in her inimitable style. Ravvi Shankar’s daughter (lest we forget) is a talent that is in no hurry—she’s real and she’s here and she’s not about to disappear, such that we again will follow her anywhere she chooses to explore. This may not be her greatest album—that may still be to come—but from her very first till now, she has provided musicianship, talent and taste, all with a refusal to pander and a respect for her listener. Here’s to you, Ms. Jones!

PRICE OF FAME

Okay, okay a couple of months back, I mentioned that Anna Nicole Smith had had so much time in the spotlight that even Andy Warhol would cry out, “Enough! Enough!” And now, like so many before her, she’s gone—but her fame lives on and on.

The human being is gone, like her son before her, and an apparently troubled soul can finally get some rest.

But the image she so dedicatedly built and created lives on after her—and with all the legal mysteries surrounding her estate and the future of her young baby, doubtless she will be with us for many, many years to come. (Like it or not, even I am having to write about it, compelled to do so in part because the media keeps bringing the subject to my attention.)

Marilyn Monroe haunted us, not only with her image, but also with her talent and her pain. Anna (or rather her image) may haunt us with her fame and entrepreneurial nature. Not quite the same trade-off, in my humble opinion.

What is it with this country and our love affair with fame? Why do we all long to be so in the spotlight that we will suffer however many indignities to stay there? Even beauty appears not to be a natural thing anymore, but a renovation project, a makeover to be dissected and discussed at each water cooler in the country. Should we be mourning the death of substance?

When news of Anna’s sudden death hit the airwaves, people in offices around the country were shocked but not with sadness. Oh, yes, they all felt they should say it’s too bad for the human being and her young child and the string of tragedies that had taken place over only six months, played out nightly on the TV news as if it were as important as happenings in Iraq and Afghanistan. But there was an almost tangible need to suppress an involuntary giggle—as in, “Now what? You’re kidding, right? This takes the cake!” As if the overexposure had actually made us callous to any deeper feelings of sympathy.

If we cannot find more interesting things to feed our interest, we as a nation are in big trouble. Enough fake celebrities. Enough fake heroes and enough fake wars. There ARE real heroes out there. There ARE real soldiers risking their lives to support our country (even though there are politicians sending them there with their own agendas). There ARE real people who make the lives of their communities better. ABC World News Tonight does a one-minute piece each week, their “Person of the Week,” where they celebrate someone whose thoughtfulness and caring for others motivates them to do something to make life better for their friends and neighbors. One minute out of how many others of violence, pettiness, and politics?

When do we decide what REALLY matters? I'm sorry for Anna Nicole Smith, I really am. She paid a high price for something of no real value. And now, it should all ber put to rest and we should never hear about her again. But that's not likely to happen now, is it?

QUICK SHOTS
EDDIE IN A STORE!
For those in Brooklyn who've been asking, EDDIE HAS ALLERGIES is finally available for those who want to physically buy the book in a store. 7th Avenue Books, that charming neighborhood book store in Park Slope that specializes in high quality used books and limited editions of new work is carrying EDDIE HAS ALLERGIES (albeit not a large stock). So if you haven't mastered an online purchase yet, or if you just want to visit a good, old-fashioned bookstore NOT part of some humongous chain, check out 7th Avenue Books , 300 7th Avenue, Brooklyn (718) 840-0020.

PLAYBILL ONLINE
Nice write-up for our upcoming Animal Haven benefit, FABLES & FAIRY TALES (for children of all ages) on Playbill Online. Click on http://www.playbill.com/news/article/105250.html to see more information--but more importantly, come to the benefit on Sunday, February 11th at 3 pm. Once again, here's the scoop:

FABLES & FAIRY TALES
FOR CHILDREN OF ALL AGES
a benefit reading of plays for ANIMAL HAVEN (www.animalhavenshelter.org)
presented by
Playwrights for Pets
Sunday, Feb. 11, 2007, 3 pm
at the new
Animal Haven SoHo
251 Centre Street
(between Broome & Grand Streets in Manhattan)
plays by
Judd Lear Silverman, Clare Melley Smith & Sue Yocum
with Elizabeth Gee, Laura Gillis*, John Moss*, Annie Pesch & Barry Steely
Donation Requested: $10 Adults, $5 Children 12 & under
Running time approximately 1 hour
Reservations: Call 718-768-4213 or email gracomal@pipeline.com
Visit www.playwrightsforpets.com

DAMIEN RICE, "9"
Slightly rougher edged than James Blunt, more emotional (and less narrative) than John Mayer, Irishman Damien Rice has continued to grow in popularity since his internationally-successful first album, "O". (Best remembered--The Blower's Daughter, featured in the Mike Nichols movie, CLOSER. Now, in "9" he stretches our loyalties further with an album by turns even more emotional, at times scatological , and other times strictly business as usual. His voice is at times a floating, crying balladeer tenor, while at other times he is a bad-boy rocker. An adventuresome album but not a home run.

On the other hand, I am on a John Mayer binge lately, listening over and over again to ROOM FOR SQUARES, HEAVIER THINGS and the latest, CONTINUUM--all of which display not only inventive musicality but great wit, wisdom and construction. Mr. Mayer is undoubtedly in it for the long haul.

BUNCH OF ANIMALS!!!

Coming up on another benefit performance for Animal Haven, presented by Playwrights for Pets, this time an afternoon presentation designed to bring families (especially kids) to hear plays and to visit the new Animal Haven SoHo facility, where all kinds of dogs and cats are available for adoption (and all kinds of training for pet care is also available). This is a terrific cause--and likely to be a terrific and entertaining afternoon. A wonderful cast of actors (Elizabeth Gee, Laura Gillis, John Moss, Annie Pesch and Barry Steely) will read three humorous plays (THE NAME OF THE TREE, A VERY GOOD GIRL and THE SINGING GNOME). Here's the info:

FABLES & FAIRY TALES
FOR CHILDREN OF ALL AGES
a benefit reading of plays
for ANIMAL HAVEN (www.animalhavenshelter.org)
presented by
Playwrights for Pets
Sunday, Feb. 11, 2007, 3 pm
at the new
Animal Haven SoHo
251 Centre Street
(between Broome & Grand Streets in Manhattan)
plays by
Judd Lear Silverman, Clare Melley Smith & Sue Yocum
Donation Requested: $10 Adults, $5 Children 12 & under
Running time approximately 1 hour
Reservations: Call 718-768-4213 or email gracomal@pipeline.com
Visit www.playwrightsforpets.com

Don't miss it--but IF you do, there will be a more "adult" evening of plays coming up in April, presented by PFP at Baruch--stay tuned for details.

THINGS TO WATCH
At the Movies

In what is a naturally busy time, post-Oscar nominations, viewers have much to catch up with, such that they will feel "in the know" when the Oscar telecast rolls around at the end of February. While this blog has only been existence a short while, it's scorecard is mixed: LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE deservedly made it all the way to the Best Picture race (and is now available on home video), while THE ILLUSIONIST, also just released on DVD, went largely ignored. (THE ILLUSIONIST features marvellous performances by Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti, some truly stunning cinematography and editing, great costumes, and a gripping story that will keep you on the edge of your seat--ah, well, I guess it will be one of the cherished quiet treasures one talks about with friends versus a well-worn classic that everyone knows.)

At any rate, one film that fortunately will benefit from Oscar nods is NOTES ON A SCANDAL, directed by Richard Eyre (head of the National Theater), with a sharp, downward-spiraling screenplay by Patrick Marber (CLOSER) and spot-on performances by Cate Blanchett as a teacher involved with a 15-year-old student, the ubiquitous Bill Nighy (currently on Broadway in THE VERTICAL HOUR) as her stymied husband, and the redoubtable Dame Judi Dench, giving a tough, unglamourous and wonderfully vile performance as a aging school teacher who sees a self-serving opportunity and uses it to the fullest. The dialogue is sharp, the scoring (by Phillip Glass) is appropriately vortex-like (what would you expect from Phillip Glass?), the cinematography rightly claustrophobia-inducing and the editing jagged and furtive, it is a brilliantly-done drama of small lives shattered by needs that can't be controlled or denied. As
gripping a 90-minutes as you'll find anywhere these days, it is not the most important film of the season but it is surely one of the most involving and, with Dench, Blanchett and Nighy in tow, one of the best acted. (And young Andrew Simpson deserves special notice as the young student callously acting as the catalyst of this nightmarish descent.)

HERE AND THERE

Sitting here, finally at my desk again, the belated first blog of the New Year. (I guess that procrastination resolution was the first to fall . . . )

I'm listening to The Best of Bob Dylan. "How many years can a man not own/a Bob Dylan album that's his alone?" One of the iconic artists who goes beyond popular music into the very roots of American culture, as a poet, commentator, performer, philosopher . . . once upon a time, we all thought "great music but that voice drives me nuts" . . . now, his voice sounds as much a part of American history as Sinatra and Streisand . . . and the music is strangely timeless . . .

But then again, Tony Bennett's Duets:An American Classic is also an amazing addition to the landscape: a thank you note to a great artist from other generations, a chance to collaborate and pay tribute, with talents ranging from K.D. Lang and the Dixie Chicks to Elton, Billy, Stevie, James Taylor and even Paul McCartney. (Oh, yes, and Streisand.) At first listen, love songs being sung to no one in particular is disconcerting, but gradually one comes to accept that the love they sing of is actually a love of the Muse of Music, and each shared duet is an adventure blending talents, styles and sensibilities. And always, one senses the both graciousness of Bennett and the gratefulness of his given partner(s) for the contributions of this American master. (The one solo on the album is I Left My Heart in San Francisco, sung with amazing care and freshness.) Ultimately, this CD is a truly wonderful celebration of a talented American original -- a must for any collection.

Speaking of musts, we all now have no excuse to miss An Inconvenient Truth, thanks to cable and the DVD release. This shocking and disturbing documentary follows Al Gore on his campaign to awaken the American conscience to the Global Warming disaster already in full swing. The science and the data of the film is as trustworthy as that of any documentary these days--thanks, Michael Moore!--but the imagery and the explanations should make anyone who's been living under a bush (pun intended) sit up and take notice. We do contribute. We can make a difference. (And why isn't this man running for President?)

I feel badly about not having written lately, but frankly, time has been at a premium--and my eyes have been acting up, such that the computer time spent at work has had to take priority. BUT . . .

If you want to save some time, avoid In Case of Emergency, a new "comedy" on ABC, Wednesdays at 9:30 pm. The idea of putting to the test whom you really can count on in an emergency--your closest friends--is potentially a funny and moving idea, but here it's not a motivating force but an excuse for forced, frantic arm-waving without an ounce of truth or discovery. The cast of characters (Jonathan Silverman, Greg Germann, David Arquette, and Lori Loughlin, among others) graduated together from high school in '87 and have not turned out as they hoped they would. Well, who has? But while a similar conceit is served with some degree of sweetness and rue on the CBS' The Class (where they all were in third grade together!), there is not an honest moment to be had here--it's all noise and innuendo. It's assumed they're all losers without a moment's examination of what makes these people tick, their disappointments and their hopes. Instead of finding the best in these quirky and occasionally appealing performers, the show plays to their worst acting habits, creating an awful aftertaste reminiscent of Diet Coke minus the cola flavoring. This is a half hour you'll never get back, so go read a book . . . or a blog . . . or floss . . .

I promise to try to write more frequently . . . !

RESOLUTIONS?

To resolve not to resolve--that is the question. Whether it is nobler in the mind to make promises to yourself (only to not keep them), or to take arms against a sea of foibles and, by opposing, end them in the year 2007?

Oi.

Of course, there are all the "usuals"--to lose weight, to take better care of one's health, to keep one's finances more tidy, to spend more time taking care of those who take care of you, etc. All of which are important (and make for great and noble list-making).

Perhaps it is healthiest to set up a small list of "do-able" tasks, such that you give yourself a pat on the back when you achieve them versus the full-scale flagellation that occurs when you fail a task that was beyond the scope of possibility from the very inception.

I do wish for health. I do wish for more time with friends--and more knowledge that we support each other, even when not physically together. (As fat as I feel, I can't stretch myself any thinner just now.) I wish for the world to come to its senses--less selfishness, more compromise in the smartest sense of the word. More compassion for others.

But then, we were talking about resolutions, things that one can actively do and control. Achievable resolutions.

On a bus down to Pennsylvania the other night, I was reflecting how recent events made me feel that I needed to be more vigilant, that if I were more on top of things, less would "go wrong." And I suddenly had a thought--maybe what's "wrong" is the way I'm choosing to view things. Something has "gone wrong" with my vision, both literally and psychologically. Something "went wrong" with the last job. Something "has gone horribly wrong" with my vision for the future.

My epiphany is that maybe something didn't go wrong. That just because I make plans doesn't mean that's how life will go. That teeth and eyes and other bodily functions don't "go wrong"--wear and tear with age is a normal and natural process, whether I like it or not. Memory isn't failing--it's doing what it's supposed to do. Life has peaks and valleys, successes and failures, and you ride them. In short, the journey is all about process, not wrong turns that require explanation and blame. If one is doing one's best and things happen, as they are wont to do, then why play the blame game--unless the sport of self-flagellation is your favorite brew.

In short, things aren't going wrong any more than they are going right. They are just going . . . going along the way life goes. Make the most of it. And if you don't like some particular thing that's happened, well . . . turn the page. Something else good may be there, waiting for you, not necessarily compensating for the bad that's happened, but nonetheless providing an occasion for celebration.

That, I guess, is the resolution--to live in the moment, to look at life as a continually evolving process, an adventure, and to fully explore the experience without taking it to the level of blame or self-flagellation. To enjoy what we have, who we have in our lives, to count our blessings while we have them (for they are not necessarily ours for keeps). And to keep turning the page instead of dwelling on that which has already happened and living in fear of what might or might not occur. This would be a healthy way to live.

I wish this for myself . . . and for all of you.

(Today's picture is of Chloe, my "sister-in-law," with her Xmas present, which she adores and is probably playing with as we speak.)

"CONNECT, GEORGE"

(As usual, Mr. Sondheim is way ahead of us.)

As I thought about facing the holidays and the things we all wish for, I realized that ultimately, no matter what we aspire to or what we wish to acquire, we all wish to fit in, to connect with our fellow beings. Even those of us who are into material things wish to lavish them upon ourselves so we will be accepted. We want to be part of the gang.

When we are part of a group, we feel accepted, hopefully welcomed. We are not alone. We matter. Somehow, this makes us feel better.

Now perhaps we should all feel we matter as a matter of course. (After all, we do.) And certainly, we should sense our own intrinsic worth, regardless of who else recognizes it. External validation is not the bandaid for all that ails us.

But feeling that we have a connection with others . . . that's the thing. (Hey, I'm from Connecticut, whaddya want?) A smile between strangers on a train can brighten a day. A hello between a regular customer and a vendor at a local shop can create a sense of home. A quick morning chat between neighbors or co-workers creates a feeling that we are exactly where we are supposed to be. And more than any monetary gift, the gift of cordiality and friendship releases more positive "vibes" than anything else we can experience--with the possible exception of an extraordiary piece of chocolate!

And so it is that this year, while I would like to contact each and every friend and let them know that I am thinking about them (and I am!), and I would like to embrace all who make me feel I do in fact belong on a planet that is at times inhospitable, I am instead merely going to send out this wish--that at this time of year (and all throughout the year) you feel connected--to your world, your life, to other people--and that you feel thereby enriched in that connection.

QUICK PLEASURES

Medium (Wednesdays, 10 pm, NBC)

Yesterday, I got caught up with some previously recorded programs I'd been saving for when I finally got a moment to relax. Of all that is on the air, I have to admit that my personal guilty pleasure is NBC's Medium, now in its third season. Much imitated (poorly at best by CBS's Ghost Whisperer), the show is nominally about a woman with paranormal abilities--the ability to solve (or help solve) crimes because of her special sensitivities that make the unsettled dead reach out to her, or else the vibrations she gets from objects tell her things, or else her dreams lead her directly to either unsolved crimes or to situations that perhaps can be averted if she can get there in time. All wishful, super-hero kinds of stuff. But what makes this show so special is NOT all these abilities granted to Alison DuBois (who supposedly is a real-life psychic medium upon whom the show is loosely based), but rather that these "gifts" are visited upon a normal American woman with a normal American family, a normal job with a normal boss and normal co-workers who are at times wonderful and at times pains in the butt. These are very real, recognizable people in a just-slightly altered situation. Life is more problematic for the gifted, and not all visions and dreams are welcome visitors. The adjustments we make for each others' quirks are many, and when life gets THIS quirky, you have to wonder if it's worth the effort. The wit, humor, and honesty of this series, created by Glenn Gordon Caron (Moonlighting), is spectacular, as is the extraordinarily high level of naturalistic acting. Patricia Arquette is perfection as Alison, an attractive but normal-looking woman (read: she has curves like a real person, not a runway model), giving a performance of great nuance. We love Alison and her passion, her dedication to doing the right thing--even as, so often, we think she may be doing something really stupid or going about it all the wrong way. Her relationship with her husband is the sexiest (and most real) of all on American television (Jake Weber matches Arquette note-for-note), and the kids are as impossible and loveable and imperfect as you could wish. (Miguel Sandoval and David Cubitt also give excellent supporting performances in Alison's workplace.) Ultimately it is neither the investigation work nor the paranormal that makes this show click, but rather, it's humanity--that we all have our crosses to bear and our jobs to do and somehow we get through even the most horrific aspects with dignity and humor (or at least we try). After you watch an episode of Medium, regardless of the details of the episode or the structure of your own existence, you feel like saying, "There's my life. And I did the best I could today." Nice work, guys.

LETTING GO OF GOD - Julia Sweeney

Actress-comedienne-writer Julia Sweeney has been through the mill in recent years, losing a beloved brother and herself fighting off cancer as well as several existential crises. That she is able to sift through life's wreckage and come up with such wisdom and humor is wonderful, if not surprising, but what IS surprising is that she is then able to pass on those discoveries in such non-pontificating ways. She is a real person always looking on the bright side and more often than not she is disappointed, yet she keeps searching for the silver lining. Letting Go of God, an audio book based on her one-woman show, is available from her website or by download from Audible (through good ole Amazon), and it is well worth the effort to obtain. While probably enjoyable to read, Sweeney's delivery of her journey through actively seeking God and spirituality--and the enormous number and variety of speed bumps she encounters--is priceless and best heard in her own voice. This is one of our friends sharing a discovery with us, without a shred of self-aggrandizement or self-pity, and it is a wonderfully personal experience. Highly recommended.

About the picture up top . . .

That's me and Barry in one of my favorite shots from a photo booth a few years ago. It makes me smile, and if you happen to know us, I think it's a good portrait of what makes us . . . us. Happy Holidays.

REVIEWS COMING IN FOR "EDDIE HAS ALLERGIES"

Happy to report that reviews have started to come in for my "kid's book," EDDIE HAS ALLERGIES, which I hope will appeal to kids of all ages. Here's one just published by the Midwest Book Review, an online book review organization out of Oregon, WI:

Threaded with wacky dialogue and rib-tickling puns
December 9, 2006
Reviewer: Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA)

The debut chapter book for children and young adults by playwright, director, and teacher Judd Lear Silverman, Eddie Has Allergies is a short, humorous story about a young boy afflicted with severe allergies. As Eddie copes with the sinus-afflicting hazards of the day, he feels increasingly isolated, as his allergies prevent him from enjoying the activities that kids do and the medicines that suppress his allergies make him so drowsy he falls asleep and dreams bizarre dreams in class. Then a surprisingly magical occurrence helps him discover a bright side to his problems, and the potential for greatness within himself. Threaded with wacky dialogue and rib-tickling puns, Eddie Has Allergies is especially recommended for public and school library collections, as well as young people learning to deal with allergies in themselves, their relatives, or their friends.

This review appears online both at Midwest Book Review and also on the Amazon.com website listing for Eddie Has Allergies. Amazon's page also has this review from a young reader:

An excellent childs fable, August 27, 2006

Reviewer:

Matt the man "matt" - See all my reviews

This is perfect for a child's bedtime story. complete with catchy rhymes and exciting themes. A tale of adventure and excitement as a boy comes to except his sever(e) allergies.

So far, so good! If you wish to find out more, go to Amazon or else to the publisher's website, Ernest Silliman Books. And thanks to all of you who have been so supportive so far!

Recently Seen at the Theater

Of course, I am extremely critical of playwriting and what passes these days for playwriting--and frustrated by what gets produced and (more to the point, I suppose) what doesn't. All too often, "hot button topic" plays get produced for their sound bytes and yet the plays prove underwhelming in terms of either craft or depth.

Not all storylines are new. In fact, few are. But if you're not saying anything new, you'd at least better say it well, with invention, wit and some freshness. At the very least, there should be a sense of the emotional commitment behind your words. Journalism should be short, sweet and to the point, but playwriting is an art form and should stir the emotions, which only happens when the playwright puts his heart on his sleeve, or rather, his page (and the stage). We should know what this play meant for the playwright and whether the work stirs positive or negative reactions from us, at the very least we should be stirred!

The Little Dog Laughed, a so-called Off-Broadway hit from last year that received numerous extensions, has now taken up residence at the Cort Theatre on West 48th Street, a Broadway house. What might have been forgiven because of the intimacy level in a smaller theater falls flat on a larger stage. It's storyline has been done before: a male film star wants to come "out" with his new love, a young bi-sexual male hustler by his side, while his fast-talking, steamrolling agent wants to keep him in the closet, so that his new project (playing a gay character) seems daring, not "bragging." Added to the mix: the confused young hustler has also gotten his sometime girlfriend pregnant and wants to "help her." Now while it's not an inventive storyline by today's standards, it still shouldn't feel like you know what's about to happen four pages before the characters do. And if you're going to re-investigate old topics--closeted stars, Hollywood vs. the theater, hard-boiled agents and their misguided clients following their hearts--then either take a new tack or, at the very least, be devastatingly funny. The Little Dog Laughed is professionally glossy but sadly mediocre, without a shred of inventiveness and with very little new to make us care. Tom Everett Scott as the handsome movie star is bland at best, while Ari Graynor as the hustler's girlfriend has more promising moments in a trite role that disintegrates in the second-act, and both actors continually swallow their best lines, either through poor diction or speeding through without commitment. Julie White, as the motor-mouthed killer agent, won much acclaim off-Broadway last season for this role and in her TV work (notably as the conniving funeral home mogul on Six Feet Under) has often been witty and delicious. But at least on the night viewed, what should have been a bravura performance came off as labored and pushed, with a voice that sounded as if it might give out from the abuse any second. Breakneck speed in monologues is only effective if one is blown away by the specificity and the connection to the material by the actor, and while one could sense that Ms. White may have oringinally felt this way about the role or might be more connected on other nights, this night felt like a general wash of a rather cliche character over rather standard issue wisecracks. Only Johnny Galecki (of Roseanne TV fame) really inhabited his character and made a convincing case for the play's least-likely character, a sexually confused hustler who inexplicably falls in love with both a self-centered movie star and a self-serving, opportunistic girlfriend. Despite his diminutive stature, he filled the stage in the way that the others, no matter how brash or supposedly charismatic, did not, and one can only hope that he will continue to explore more stage work, hopefully in far more rewarding plays.

My case is further argued by the superb revival of Torch Song Trilogy at Brooklyn's premiere showcase company, The Gallery Players. When Harvey Fierstein first began exploring the three pieces of what would become a Tony-winning phenomenon, he wasn't worrying about breaking new ground, just in writing and telling the truth in his own unique and funny manner. Torch Song, for the few left who don't know, follows Arnold Beckoff through a quest for love, in backrooms of bars and in country houses upstate; a drag queen, he is nonetheless remarkably grounded and longing for the normal life his mother had, with a few variations. He loves a confused bi-sexual schoolteacher, co-habits for a time with a handsome young lover, and tries to adopt a young gay teen while grappling with issues with his own mother (a role originated by Estelle Getty). It was ground-breaking in the post-Stonewall, pre-AIDS world because it was looking at a real person in honest emotional turmoil, a person who the rest of the world might not know due to the "circumstances" of their life. (Who knew, at that time, that not all gay men were flamboyant and promiscuous? Who was taking the time to write about it?) Harvey Fierstein not only broke the mold as a writer, but also turned in the first of his many award-winning performances. Let's face it--Harvey is quirky, but is so honest in his quirkiness and so wonderfully smart and connected that he is almost always a joy on stage (recently in Hairspray as Edna Turnblad and in Fiddler as Tevye!). Almost 23 years later, the honesty of the work more than holds interest, as proven in Gallery Players' meticulous revival, led by Broadway personality Seth Rudetsky (who gives an admirably balanced performance as Arnold). Three and a half hours flew by (well, it IS a trilogy, folks!) with honest, dedicated performances. These are people you can care about, despite their flaws. Two decades later, their stories may now seem far more commonplace than when written, yet we care as much if not more because of the honesty, wit and affection seen here. While I like to see new work get its shot on the Great White Way, I would have rather seen this lovely revival get the attention (and rewards) that the aforementioned work received rather undeservedly.

Then again, in fairness, I love to see anything that shows artistic imagination and invention, even if it is still in development, which is why it was a joy to watch Alice in Wonderland at the Calhoun School recently, in which middle school-aged members of PA78 brought eager experimentation and uninhibited joy to their exploration of Lewis Carroll's classic characters. Not all students achieved Broadway gloss, but the sheer joy, exhilaration and commitment was always a wonder to behold.

AND FINALLY . . .

(This is what happens when I get so busy that I have to save up all my stories for a sunny Sunday!)

Last Sunday's New York Times featured a write up about Eddie Murphy and the buzz about his possibly Oscar-worthy performance in the film version of the Broadway musical, Dreamgirls. Eddie apparently didn't wish to be interviewed for the piece--he's been through a lot personally, ups and downs for which no doubt he is at least partially to blame--but several others did comment, such as filmmaker John Landis. Several were unkind to Eddie in their personal comments (despite their having made their reputations and their fortunes off of his talent), only adding to the legend of his being brilliant but aloof and difficult.

I was the assistant to Eddie's managers back in the early-mid 80's and was there for Trading Places and Beverly Hills Cop, and would like to share my experience.

I had been working at Eddie Murphy Productions for only 6 weeks or so when Eddie was out doing another cross-country tour of his stand-up comedy (with the now-forgotten The Busboys providing his opening act). Eddie must have been all of 23 at the time, and was arguably the biggest star in the country between Saturday Night Live, the live performances and HBO specials, the movies and even a budding music career (which may resurface as everyone seems surprised by his musicality in Dreamgirls.) At any rate, Eddie was an incredibly hot ticket, and backstage at his comedy concerts were in the ballpark with rockstar mania. His manager and I drove out to Westbury Music Fair and there were almost 150 people in the backstage dressing areas alone, all jostling for position to get a moment alone with the new prince of comedy, assumed to be Richard Prior's heir. Being one who hates parties and crowds, I had slid into a quiet corner to be swallowed up and go unnoticed. Suddenly, from across the room, who slides past all the sycophants and hangers-on but Eddie himself, who comes over to me to say, "Hi, Judd. Thanks for coming. How do you like the new job so far?" I murmur something or other and thank him and after a moment's chitchat, he moves on. The point is, with ALL those people fawning over him, he took the time to be a considerate host and a caring boss to greet a new employee and to see to his comfort. And it was that day that I decided that Eddie Murphy was "good people" with good values. I appreciated his efforts then and I still appreciate them now.

ON THE BIAS

Well, these days, you don't have to be a Hollywood star to be a racist--but it certainly seems to help.

Unfortunate comments by the likes of Michael Richards and Mel Gibson have received an inordinate amount of attention from the national press, How can the people who come into our homes (via the media) turn out to be so, well, ugly under pressure? Of course, people have been uttering hateful rhetoric for centuries, but with the absurd levels of coverage our media gives TV and movie stars, it seems like a major shock that deep seated biases exist in "the beautiful people"as well. (Of course, for truly "deep-seated" shockers, perhaps one turns to Brittany Spears and her friends and their apparent fruit-of-the-loom boycott. The nerve of us expecting young women to wear underwear when out in public! What will they think of next?)

As always, bigotry has its roots in fear. Sure, alcohol can help release the inhibitions that usually keep us from saying the inappropriate. And when in a stressful situation (as the heckled Mr. Richards claims to have been), we may express ourselves with epithets that come out of deeply-rooted anger, which is a close neighbor to fear. But mostly, we are frightened by that which we don't fully understand and by those who we sense are different from ourselves. Which, of course, means everyone.

In Tourette's Syndrome, many people "tic," swearing and saying the most inappropriate things that most people would normally not say out loud, even if deep down their minds may think it. It's an OCD-related compulsion, and their innate, self-censoring mechanism malfunctions. This would seem to argue that, in short, we all harbor inner bigots along with our inner children. We just hope that our inner censors will prevent the world from seeing how fearful we really are. We are taught that it's not nice to point out people's differences, and so we neurotically conceal what we notice, hiding our responses to various cultures. We are urged to be politically correct.

But the process of denying our differences--racial, sexual, economic--doesn't solve anything. It just makes us more neurotic. Repression results in a build-up of tension. And with the right amount of pressure or stress, any one of us might well blurt out that which we're spending so much energy holding in. We are all walking powder kegs of racial and sexual insensitivity.

Now you may be wondering--is he therefore telling us to hurl hateful language at each other? Go ahead and be hateful? Let it all out? What IS he getting at?

It's this: maybe instead of trying so hard to pretend there are no cultural differences (a futile activity that saps positive energy), we need to learn to embrace and acknowledge our differences. It is because we are all different that we are also all the same. We each bring our uniqueness to the table and THAT is our common bond. Nobody wants a garden where every flower is identical--it would be visually pointless and ultimately boring. The diversity we have among us is bracing and enriches our lives. Let's acknowledge it. Yes, there are cultural differences we don't understand in our neighbors and our co-workers but that's what makes them interesting people and gives life its spice. Pretending that we don't notice, sitting on our impressions (that scientists say are formed within milliseconds) is a wasteful activity. If we recognize and enjoy our differences, even those we don't understand, then we neither need fear nor repress them--which may mean there will be less to pop out so inappropriately when arrested for drunken diving or when being heckled on a nightclub stage. Of course, it would be a good idea for us to explore and understand these different cultures better. And we may want to spend the time trying to understand WHY we fear those who are not like ourselves. And you might even think that those who are in positions of privilege, like Mr. Richards or Mr. Gibson, have the time and money to explore these fears and come to understand them so that their behavior is more responsible. But ultimately, all of us need to stop repressing fears and start accepting our neighbors as they are--the world is just too much of a power keg already.