A Little Cultcha
My three-day weekend ran extra long, right into Thursday, before I realized that I should post something. I have a four-day weekend planned starting tomorrow, so I guess now is the time.
I've been sampling some of NYC's highest art lately, in between watching the Project Runway marathon. Actually, I was rewatching episodes I've seen many times. I was a fan early on, from the first supermarket show. I almost stopped watching because I couldn't stand Heidi Klum's ridiculous drone, but I think the model Melissa is excellent in every way, so I stayed and got hooked. I watch them when they air, tape them for my husband and watch them again. And yet I still can't find the time to write here. As my mother would say, "Maybe you should reevaluate your priorities."
Anyway, back to the art. I should clarify: by art I mean Broadway theater, which really is just glorified television only really expensive and sometimes not as good but other times you see stars in the audience. Last night a friend and I went to see "Brooklyn Boy" and I swear Tom Hulce was there looking very scary and botoxed, and with a terrible haircut. It was difficult convincing my friend but I'm pretty sure. Another actor (whose name I can't remember, or what he has been in, but he's the type that you see in everything without really bothering to take interest in his name or what you are watching - you know the type, right?) went up and shook Hulce's hand randomly, which strengthened my thesis because only actors feel entitled to shake other actors' hands like that. Last Saturday I volunteered as an usher at Hurlyburly because I couldn't get tickets any other way, and some weird, short man in a Sundancey shearling coat with a white turtleneck sweater underneath asked the house manager, "How can I let the cast know I'm here?" I tried to figure out who he could be and I came up with nothing. He looked like a Martin Short character (actually he looked more like this, but I love Short's Jackie Rodgers, Jr.), with a tall flat top and a stretched-to-the-limit facelift. He was so weird, I would have guessed Phil Spector if I didn't know what Phil Spector looks like (or that he's otherwise occupied with legal problems, and therefore not able to catch Ethan Hawke's daring performance).
I love Hurlyburly. As a recovering actress, I am tied to the play because there was a time when I could put my head down for a moment and when it came back up, I'd be Bonnie, the coke-addled topless dancer who was known for her talent for dancing with balloons. (Oh yeah, I was THAT GOOD.) I don't particularly love Ethan Hawke, but I have to say I was impressed with his performance as Eddie, the play's main sleazebag cokehead casting director. He achieved perfection in that he reminded me of my father, who is not a casting director or a cokehead, but for the past two years he has been addicted to something that is totally bringing down his life. He used to work in insurance, but was fired for being a junkie, or something like that. When I speak to my dad these days it truly is like speaking to another person. His voice is different, he's confused and unclear. He slurs and it's hard to hear him. And he punctuates his speech with little bursts of voice. That's what Ethan Hawke did.
Parker Posey and Josh Hamilton and Bobby Cannavale and Wallace Shawn were also in it, and all were great. Parker Posey was seemingly miscast but her performance made me understand the character in a new way. Catherine Kellner played Bonnie. I tip my invisible hat to her but still think I could do a better job. Wallace Shawn's performance is so odd that I sometimes thought the cast was trying to hide the fact that they couldn't bear him, but it really works. I love Josh Hamilton like an estranged college friend I think of fondly but never speak to, because he was in one of my favorite movies, Kicking and Screaming. It's probably cliche to say that the movie so reminds me of my college days that after watching it I frequently curl up into a fetal position of nostalgia and weep, but it's true. (Why is this treasure not out on DVD?! I've complained officially, but I'll gripe here.) Josh's mustachioed 80s look was terribly effective, and he seemed very tall and very lithe.
After the show, while I was picking up the garbage left by paying audience members (pigs!), the cast filed out through the theater. I heard that they would be hanging out at a bar across the street, and if I had a friend with me I would have followed. But, alas, it was past my bedtime so I headed home. Maybe I really should reevaluate my priorities.
I've been sampling some of NYC's highest art lately, in between watching the Project Runway marathon. Actually, I was rewatching episodes I've seen many times. I was a fan early on, from the first supermarket show. I almost stopped watching because I couldn't stand Heidi Klum's ridiculous drone, but I think the model Melissa is excellent in every way, so I stayed and got hooked. I watch them when they air, tape them for my husband and watch them again. And yet I still can't find the time to write here. As my mother would say, "Maybe you should reevaluate your priorities."
Anyway, back to the art. I should clarify: by art I mean Broadway theater, which really is just glorified television only really expensive and sometimes not as good but other times you see stars in the audience. Last night a friend and I went to see "Brooklyn Boy" and I swear Tom Hulce was there looking very scary and botoxed, and with a terrible haircut. It was difficult convincing my friend but I'm pretty sure. Another actor (whose name I can't remember, or what he has been in, but he's the type that you see in everything without really bothering to take interest in his name or what you are watching - you know the type, right?) went up and shook Hulce's hand randomly, which strengthened my thesis because only actors feel entitled to shake other actors' hands like that. Last Saturday I volunteered as an usher at Hurlyburly because I couldn't get tickets any other way, and some weird, short man in a Sundancey shearling coat with a white turtleneck sweater underneath asked the house manager, "How can I let the cast know I'm here?" I tried to figure out who he could be and I came up with nothing. He looked like a Martin Short character (actually he looked more like this, but I love Short's Jackie Rodgers, Jr.), with a tall flat top and a stretched-to-the-limit facelift. He was so weird, I would have guessed Phil Spector if I didn't know what Phil Spector looks like (or that he's otherwise occupied with legal problems, and therefore not able to catch Ethan Hawke's daring performance).
I love Hurlyburly. As a recovering actress, I am tied to the play because there was a time when I could put my head down for a moment and when it came back up, I'd be Bonnie, the coke-addled topless dancer who was known for her talent for dancing with balloons. (Oh yeah, I was THAT GOOD.) I don't particularly love Ethan Hawke, but I have to say I was impressed with his performance as Eddie, the play's main sleazebag cokehead casting director. He achieved perfection in that he reminded me of my father, who is not a casting director or a cokehead, but for the past two years he has been addicted to something that is totally bringing down his life. He used to work in insurance, but was fired for being a junkie, or something like that. When I speak to my dad these days it truly is like speaking to another person. His voice is different, he's confused and unclear. He slurs and it's hard to hear him. And he punctuates his speech with little bursts of voice. That's what Ethan Hawke did.
Parker Posey and Josh Hamilton and Bobby Cannavale and Wallace Shawn were also in it, and all were great. Parker Posey was seemingly miscast but her performance made me understand the character in a new way. Catherine Kellner played Bonnie. I tip my invisible hat to her but still think I could do a better job. Wallace Shawn's performance is so odd that I sometimes thought the cast was trying to hide the fact that they couldn't bear him, but it really works. I love Josh Hamilton like an estranged college friend I think of fondly but never speak to, because he was in one of my favorite movies, Kicking and Screaming. It's probably cliche to say that the movie so reminds me of my college days that after watching it I frequently curl up into a fetal position of nostalgia and weep, but it's true. (Why is this treasure not out on DVD?! I've complained officially, but I'll gripe here.) Josh's mustachioed 80s look was terribly effective, and he seemed very tall and very lithe.
After the show, while I was picking up the garbage left by paying audience members (pigs!), the cast filed out through the theater. I heard that they would be hanging out at a bar across the street, and if I had a friend with me I would have followed. But, alas, it was past my bedtime so I headed home. Maybe I really should reevaluate my priorities.
posted by j.m. at 4:52 PM
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