Lary Bloom
Writer, Editor, Teacher
The Bloom Blog
Photo by Nancy Dionne
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Bloch Party
As I was saying about Scotty Bloch....Last night's reading of my new play, Worth Avenue, drew 185 people -- seven more than capacity at the Chester Meeting House, but please don't mention this to the fire marshal. All went swimmingly until Act 5, when, in the middle of Scotty Bloch's intense monologue about widows in Miami Beach (and the fifth and last role she played during the evening), one of the standees collapsed and banged her on the floor. Suddenly heads turned from the stage to the back of the auditorium. Two doctors aided the women, and gawkers rushed to see what happened.
What to do about the play? I wondered myself, after returning from the back to my fourth row seat. About 90 seconds had passed since the incident -- I could still hear the doctors asking the women if she was all right. The odd thing was that on stage Scotty Bloch had just revealed in her monologue (playing a homeless woman named Clara) that dozens of people had passed her by on the sidewalk when she collapsed until one man paid attention to her and rescued her. So some people in the audience actually thought the collapse of the woman in the audience was a part of the play.
Scotty, a veteran of nearly 60 years on the stage, stood in her last position as all this happened. What would she do? Would we have to wait for a resolution of the medical question, and then start over again? Would the rest of the evening be canceled? I hated that idea. But you see the irony -- a play about a woman in the gutter in which the point is nobody cares about her, and here I am, the playwright, sitting in the fourth row wishing the woman who collapsed would be less of a problem (actually, she wasn't injured seriously, though she had to be taken to the clinic just to check her out).
After 90 seconds or so, Scotty, to my surprise and delight (and a little of worry, because I wasn't sure how it would come off) picked up in the script where she left off. Heads turned back to the stage. As it happened, and you can't make this kind of stuff up, her first line was, "Maybe you should ask for your money back." This seemed to lighten the mood, and within seconds the audience was back into the play.
All ended well. At curtain calls, the whole cast was rewarded by a standing audience, but Scotty was singled out for her marathon performance and for her show-must-go-on attitude.
I figured she must have faced such a thing in her six decade career before. But no, she told me. Never before. What are the odds that you'd put on a reading of your play for just one night and in the middle of a monologue about collapsing an audience member would collapse? Ah, the joys of show biz.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 7:19 AM
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Enduring Talents
I sat in the balcony of the Chester Meeting House last night and watched what was happening on stage -- one of the final rehearsals for tonight's reading of Worth Avenue, a play I have written. I was watching, in particular, Scotty Bloch and Peter Walker.She is an actress who, in the neighborhood of 80, has enormous vitality.(Woody Allen noticed this when he cast her in several movies.) In Worth Avenue, she plays five roles.. Each is demanding, particularly the last, a monologue of 20 minutes or so that calls for the ability to deliver comic lines and social commentary and to alter the mood throughout. She does this magnificently.
Peter Walker is close to her age, and he too has great energy. He plays three roles, all with passion and the kind of stagecraft that only a veteran actor can offer. It's been a long time since his Broadway debut in the original cast of Follies, but he still works hard, and is a delight to watch.
I had an odd feeling up there in the balcony. These were my words these great actors were uttering. Often, I didn't recognize them as such -- Scotty and Peter had so internalized them, made them work for their characters.
In Worth Avenue (tonight at 7 at the Chester Meeting House), they play characters their age who don't have the internal resources that they do. It's an honor to work with them -- I am one fortunate playwright.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 3:26 AM
Saturday, March 25, 2006
How The Democrats Can Get It Together
The Democratic Party has been taking hits for its lack of unified and effective response to the mess that the Republicans have gotten us into. Even The New Yorker magazine, which is staunch anti-Bush in its commentary, offers a thumbs down -- "pathetic and ungrammatical" -- on the new Democratic slogan for the 2006 Congressional campaign, "Together, We Can Do Better."So I have come to the rescue. After all, how hard is it to write a slogan that is better than that? Even I can do it.
So -- are you listening, Howard Dean?
The Democratic Party Vision for 2006 is:
America The Bountiful
Yes. America the bountiful -- a place of abundant jobs, where education and health care becomes available to all, where a strong military protects the homeland and is used judiciously elsewhere, where the environment is respected and protected, and where there is an end to government by privilege.
Who wouldn't vote for this? Ah, you may ask. Iraq? The word isn't anywhere in the vision above, only hinted at. Murtha's idea, adjusted for better public relations, will do. We will declare that within a few months we have done all we can do, that we have empowered the Iraqis to take it from here. We can say that our investment has made it possible for them to create a country where a fledgling democracy, with all its difficulties and even its violent enemies, can endure because they have been inspired by us to carry on the great fight. And then we can hunt our real enemies.
That, Mr. Cheney, is the view of a Democratic Party that was in charge during World War II -- a party that, yes, you can trust America's defense to.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 6:32 AM
Friday, March 24, 2006
Seeing Every Word No More
After 37 years, it appears as if the National Theatre of the Deaf's survival is threatened. It is a victim of an array of difficulties, including a slash in federal funding. The Courant has weighed in with its predictable editorial lament -- about how the company has been a national and international treasure. (David Hays, its founder, likes to say that it's the only theater company that played on all seven continents -- though in Antarctica, it merely held a workshop.) The truth is, it has been some time since the NTD was the force that David made it (he retired many years ago to take up fulltime writing).I went to NTD productions whenever I could. I found the company to be dynamic and creative. Sure it was a showcase for the deaf -- in a typical season, the majority of actors had this handicap and only a few hearing actors had speaking parts (there was always a narrator -- the slogan was "You see and hear every word."). But more than that it was excellent theater. In Robert Nathan's One More Spring, for example, a Russian actor on a limited visa played a rich U.S. capitalist in such convincing fashion that it seemed that all international boundaries and political divisions were blurred. The NTD had its finger on universality. And because most of its actors were deaf, they had to be more expressive in other ways than the typical actor.
A real crowd pleaser was the Little Theatre of the Deaf, an arm of the company. It played for young audiences. And it specialized in improvisation. Never have I seen improvisation done so well or creatively as the the LTD. When the audience shouted out an idea, the company simply performed it -- without ever huddling up, the way all other improvisation companies do. It would appear that the LTD may be the surviving element of the NTD. That's at least a silver lining.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 8:35 AM
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Blue State Dinner Parties
And so it goes -- the talk at Connecticut dinner parties, at least the ones I have been to, give George W. Bush no respect. As the wine flows and the evenings proceed, our president is accused of this and that, and, piteous fellow, almost never defended. Last night, he was raked over the coals, or at least over the delicious pasta, for his new strategy of blaming the media for the troubles in Iraq.How well I remember, as I pointed out to the faces around the table, the same blame game during the Vietnam War. It wasn't the pile of dead bodies that offended -- it was correspondents writing and showing that war is a nasty business that did us in. And now we're seeing that strategy again to call attention away from disastrous policy.
Well, dinner party or not, we couldn't drink to that. Or to ignorance and arrogance.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 12:11 AM
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
A Few Good (And Candid) Men
On Monday night, a new memoir class gathered, this time at the Chester Library. Every memoir course I have taught in the last few years has been different in terms of quality of writing, but most have had one thing in common: scarcity of men. The new class is typical in this regard: nine women and one man. How to account for this?Is is that women are more willing to record honestly fateful moments in their lives, while men tread lightly on hurtful memory? Well, yes. This is, of course, not universally true. My reading list of classic memoir has the work of many men -- James Baldwin, Don Ascher, Geoffrey Wolff, David Sedaris, John Updike, Robert Graves. But in that list, women writers dominate.
In the last session of the memoir course before this one, students were asked, as they typically are, to read from their final ambitious works. Most of the women in the class chose life altering moments -- the kidnapping of a child, abuse suffered in early years, family dysfunction, the death of a son, and the like. One woman, however, wrote 1,800 words on taking a bath as a little girl. I watched the faces of class members as she read. All of the woman were completely caught up in the moment -- they had huge smiles on their faces. They understood the writer's vulnerability. The lone man in the class seemed befuddled. A very good writer himself, he had on his face a sense of confusion. How could this be? It's only a bath, after all. But that's the general difference between men and women in terms of memoir -- a willingness to come clean.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 3:13 AM
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Code Breakers
Dan Brown is getting it from all sides -- in court, and in church. The Da Vinci Code is Devilish, it is argued. Or, it is a work of plagiarism. Or both.This, it turns out, is something of a benefit for Brown and Random House. It means that no one is focusing on Brown's real crime: bad writing.
In the Court of Literary High Crimes and Misdemeanors, Brown would stand accused of Blatant Commercialism At Any Cost, including specific counts of Bullshit Dialogue, Wooden Characters, and Shameless Manipulation of the Reader. All of which carry the punishment of endless appearances on the Larry King show.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 10:43 AM
Monday, March 20, 2006
All The Sports That's Fit To Print
There was a fairly obvious error in my edition of the Hartford Courant this morning. I scoured page one for the usual action photo of the UConn Huskies (men's or women's basketball team). But it was nowhere to be found.Instead, the editor who the made choices for page one apparently had the ridiculous idea that the third anniversary of the war in Iraq is more important than yesterday's score, and devoted three (count 'em) photos from that insignificant tussle in the Middle East. An outrage, I say.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 2:23 PM
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Reading Aloud (Allowed)
Most every day, about 4 p.m., Suzanne and I read aloud to each other. That is, we allow ourselves to read aloud, interrupting whatever else may be on the agenda. This, as it turns out, is not a particularly expeditious way to consume a novel, memoir, or other genre. Books take longer when they are read aloud. But the phenomenon of the emergence of Recorded Books and Books on Tape, etc., has reminded us of what first drew us to stories -- they way we were read to as children. We haven't changed in all these decades. We still like to be told a story. And we can all become narrators and actors, if not with the skills of, say, Davina Porter, George Guidall, Henry Strozier, or John McDonough (the best of the Recorded Books narrators).The latest book for us was Haruki Marukami's novel, Kafka On The Shore. This required an hour a day over six weeks, for the thing runs 436 pages. It also requires some concentration -- two simultaneous and seemingly unconnected tales (until well into the narrative). It is a story of raining eels and leeches, of the wisdom of an ignorant man, of the destiny of an uncommonly gifted 15-year-old boy, of love, death, and of the mind's limitless dimensions.
When two people read a book simultaneously, there is a chance to review on a daily basis what makes writing resonate -- or not. It also becomes a shared journey, like a trip to Tuscany, except for $26.95. Give it a try.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 10:41 AM
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Nine Trillion Thank Yous
A nine trillion dollar debt -- what a good idea the Republicans in Congress have. Inspiring. Instructive.I've been looking at my own bank account, and the problem with it is that I have been thinking the old-fashioned way: that I'm supposed to have money in it. What a dope I am.
I'm reminded now of the old saying: "If you owe the bank $10,000 you've got a problem, but if you owe the bank $10,000,000 the bank's got a problem." I just haven't been borrowing enough.
I'm grateful to the Republicans for showing me the way.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 4:11 AM
Friday, March 17, 2006
Showtime
I dropped by the historic Goodspeed Opera House the other night to check on rehearsals. John Sebastian DeNicola was in the orchestra pit, leading his musicians through his own score while, on stage, actors tried to get the timing and movements right. John was his ebullient self, and you'd never know he was suffering from a head cold and the usual pre-opening night panic.John once was an unlikely prospect to write a musical based on the Book of Esther. An unlikely candidate, too, to become a cantor in a synagogue for High Holiday services. When a boy grows up Roman Catholic, what are the odds against this?
Anyway, while he attended Berklee School of Music he wrote a short version of a musical called Megillah. Nine years ago, our synagogue staged it at Goodspeed's Norma Terris Theatre for two performances. The audience loved the tunes -- didn't expect a Biblical story to have a kind of Andrew Lloyd Webber score. At the tackback after the last performance, our oldest congegation member, Hi Fink (then only in his late '80s), raised his hand and announced his instant and memorable review: "I wasn't bored for a single minute."
That show ran only 70 unboring minutes. Now, John has expanded it to 90 unboring minutes. I sat through the rehearsal waiting for Esther's Prayer, the seminal moment in the show when the queen who has kept her heritage secret from her king/husband must decide whether to tell him about her past -- to save her people. I remembered how when Beth Albrecht sang this gorgeous song many years ago, I could hear sobs in the audience. As my late friend Leonora Hays, said, "There wasn't a dry seat in the house." And now a different actress was singing it, Amy Forbes. The result was the same, however. When she came the song's bridge, and put her shawl over her head as a sign of faith, I wept.
No doubt I am a softy. I cry at KMart openings. But I think you'd become emotinal too during Esther's Prayer. If you're around Saturday night or Sunday (two performances) come see this. (See www.cbsrz.org for details.) I'll see you there, and we'll have a good cry (and many laughs) together.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 4:05 AM
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Knight Days
When I read that Knight-Ridder was bought by the McClatchy chain, I thought of two things. The first course, was how this would affect me. When I turn 65 in just over two years, Knight-Ridder has an obligation to send me a check for $314 every month for the rest of my life. This represents my reward for 14 years of service to the company. And it means that my retirement payments will add up, if I am correct, to one million dollars -- provided that I live to the age of 336. I suspect, however, that the McClatchy chain, known for its economies and this exposure to what may be laughingly called my pension, may undertake an evil plot around the time I am 225, and send out a hitman, or at least coupons for McDonalds in the hopes that I will fatally clog my arteries.The second thing I thought about was how John S. Knight would take the news that McClatchy, in its grand plan, intends to sell off 12 newspapers of the chain, including the Akron Beacon Journal. This was the newspaper that was John S. Knight's flagship. It was there where he wrote his Sunday columns that earned a Pultizer Prize, and presided over that paper and others he purchased with his brother James -- all of them earning respect around the nation as places where serious journalism was practiced.
I was a young man in Knight's last years, and, as such, I knew I should press for a chance to see him one on one, so that someday I could say I sat at the foot of a master. I called his secretary, Libby, one day in 1975. She said, "Sure," and put me down for a time. The old man was sitting behind his desk. I had no idea if he knew my name, or that I was editing his Sunday magazine. I didn't know what I expected -- perhaps some wise observation. Instead, he asked me a question about the newspaper's managing editor. "Do you think," he said, "Bob Giles is a cold fish?" Gads. A giant of journalism needed my opinion on this? Of course the guy was a cold fish, but could I say that and not sound like a whippersnapper? I replied, "Yes, a little." Mr. Knight smiled. "You can't always tell about a person, you know." "No, you can't, Mr. Knight." (The cold fish, by the way, now runds the Neiman Foundation at Harvard.)
I saw Mr. Knight one last time before he died. I was working for the Miami Herald, and I followed the same procedure with his secretary. By then he was a sixth wheel -- kept an office, but had nothing to do except perhaps count his money and mourn the loss of his murdered grandson in Philadelphia. He seemed tired to me. Even so, I thought of him as a grand master, among the last of the legendary journalists I had read about in college. I thanked him for his time. When I left, he said, "Good luck, son."
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 12:13 PM
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Lois
The airport in Chicago has produced a second angel. The first is Wilma (see previous post), the van driver. The second is Lois, an American Airlines employee who works the counter at O'Hare's gate 62.I met Wilma on Friday night, when travel to San Francisco required an unscheduled night in a Windy City motel. I had missed my connections because of weather delays. On the way back yesterday, the weather was no more cooperative. The gate agent in San Francisco offered regular updates to the crowd awaiting flight 1564 to Chicago (where I would make my connection to Hartford) -- beginning with the news that there would be a three hour delay. In the heirarchy of the world's troubles, such matters rank not even as a footnote. However, you know how it is. Travelers get itchy. And some get outraged. There's always a Shelly Winters (bless her soul) in the crowd who announces her indignance with impressive volume. But there are others who just shrug, and say, well, what are you gonna do?
The point is that a routine day of travel turned out to be anything but. By the time we took off -- nearly four hours after the appointed time -- I was certain I'd be running into Wilma again, and spend another night at the Worst Western. I remembered Chief Sitting Bull's three rules of living a good life: "Work by sun, sleep by moon, and no fly through Chicago." However, as we were landing at O'Hare a flight attendant announced connecting gates. The Hartford flight had been delayed three hours, and would leave at 11 p.m. (All this, dear reader, I know is tedious, but I'm getting to the point.)
I met Lois at gate 62. She'd had a long day and night, too. Everyone in the airline business had. Weary travelers, each with a story to tell, came up to her to find out why the Hartford flight had been delayed further. She smiled, and said, "Don't worry, we'll get you out of here." She exhanged my backrow seat for something more civilized. But that's not why she is an angel. In sprinting from one concourse to another, I picked up a sandwich and a bottle of water. After I got my new seat assignement, I sat down to eat my 11 p.m. "meal." But I could not open the water -- the plastic seal on it had me stumped. Aha, I thought. Lois can help. Indeed, she took pity on me, and, in an instant, she solved the problem with her delicate fingernails. "This stuff doesn't faze me -- I'm a mom, you know."
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 6:59 AM
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Wilma
Wilma held her cigaret out of the driver's window, as if she anticipated objections by her riders. None of us were in what might be called a tolerant state. We were among the many thousands every year who find themselves stranded at Chicago's O'Hare: too late for connections, facing a night in a less than luxurious motel, collecting for our respective memoirs yet another episode of outrage.But Wilma turned out to be our therapist. We managed to squeeze her entire life story from her with the intense question, "How are you?" But, you know, it was swell, and boy did we need it. She told us, on the way to the roach house, about her father, a lifelong fan of the Chicago Cubs, who still takes her to many games every years -- she mourns the loss of Sammy Sosa, juiced or not.. She adores the Cubs and Chicago, even when the weather is onerous, even when, as the night before, she had to work until 1 in the morning because the airport was a mess. People like me had avoided sage advice: Never fly through Chicago. And they were paying the price.
By the time Wilma dropped us off, we were, much to our great dismay, in a cheery mood.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 8:01 AM
Friday, March 10, 2006
Tom Cruise Nowhere To Be Found
Late last year, Russell Powell came to our little town from Massachussetts to have lunch. He ordered a vegetarian dish, and then told me details of his unusual business venture, although "unusual" might be the wrong adjective. Some folks might suggest "risky" or "idealistic" or even "miscalculated." Perhaps "determined" is the most appropriate.Russell is the publisher and editor of a new magazine called New England Watershed. It is a response and rebellion against the norm in magazine publishing. He is determined to create something that isn't reliant on the usual mix but much more dependent on depth and meaningful context. And so, in New England Watershed, you will not find celebrity profiles or advice on where to get the best pizza in Vermont or buy smartly into the hottest neighborhoods of Boston. There's no gossip. There are no themed issues about restaurants or spas, or any of that.
Russell has the bizarre idea that there are still readers out there who want to know where we came from, and where we're going as a culture. He doesn't mind putting Ralph Waldo Emerson on the cover instead of Tom Cruise. He argues that this magazine will find an audience that, like he does, craves a guide to rich living that has nothing to do with consumerism.
He knows of the history of such efforts. yNew England Monthly once boasted the work of Tracy Kidder, Annie Dillard, and many other excellent writers who offered rich perspectives and storytelling. But as well edited and as beautifully designed as it was, the magazine ultimately failed. (While Yankee magazine, with its annual advice on where to see the autumn colors -- as if you didn't already have them in your backyard -- still flourishes.)
When Russell asked me to write for him, I couldn't resist. I admire his spunk. And so, for the February/March issue (he publishes six times a year), I profiled Barbara S. Delaney, an 82-year old in Chester who has compelling philosophies to live by (including damned fine martini parties.)
Yesterday, after a fruitless search of bookstores and other places that sell magazines, we found copies of New England Watershed for sale in West Hartford at Bookworm. A friend was aghast at the price for a single issue: $7.95. "Well," said the owner of the store, "it's a specialty magazine." Yes. It specializes in civilization, something that can't, as of yet, be marketed.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 6:30 AM
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
How To Save The State Budget (3)
The State of Connecticut, in recent blog entries, has been praised for its wise budget management by not paying contractors the money due them and therefore building up a hefty surplus for our children and grandchildren. But now it must be pointed out that the state has erred dramatically. It is has paid its bills. At least the bill it owed to the writer, who, quite dumbfounded, now finds himself actually grateful that a check arrived within 125 days of the services performed.Posted by:Lary Bloom at 2:02 PM
Bloom Ports World And Poetry Company
One of the primary questions we ought to be asking is, "Why is there no American company bidding on the huge ports contract?" Or, here's another question that has escaped NBC news reporters: "Have you noticed that Lary Bloom, quite the opportunist, has made plans to start his own company, Bloom Ports World and Poetry Company?"Yes, and I intend, once I have established it, to underbid Dubai Ports World. That state-owned company is willing to run six of our ports for something like 70 billion dollars. I, however, have a plan to run these ports for 69.7 billion, saving, if I am correct, enough money to buy whole bunches of Girl Scout cookies.
If there are those out there who would like to support this effort, and become fellow investors, do let me know. You may well ask what qualifications I have in this regard. I can only say that I had three grandparents who, about a hundred years ago, came through Ellis Island in containers. You may also want to ask why Poetry is part of the name of the company. That's the security part of the plan. If Bloom Ports World and Poetry Company encounters any suspected terrorists, it will lock them in a container and play recordings of Rod McKuen reading his own work until they all confess.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 10:27 AM
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
How To Save The State Budget (2)
In an earlier rant, I pointed out the experience of a writer (who remains nameless, though his initials are LB), who performed a service on behalf of the State of Connecticut many months ago and who, despite many assurances that all was well-oiled in the great bureaucracy, has yet to receive the payment due him. The writer offered this technique -- the state promising payment to its contractors but never quite delivering -- as a way to assure its perpetual solvency. (Though solvency would not exist, of course, for the contractors.)The day after I wrote this, it appeared as if, by magic, the state had decided for some reason to pay its bill. The writer received in the mail a slim envelope, just the bulk necessary for a check. He ripped it open, thinking, "Aha, I can now pay a bill or two." Alas, he was proven to be far too optimistic. The State of Connecticut, in its endless effort to litter the countryside with paper, sent instead a "Confirming Order Only -- Please Do Not Duplicate -- Thank You." Well, the writer has no intention of duplicating it, or triplicating it, or any other thing with it. It is of no use to him whatsoever. Except that one day, he may be able to include in his CV that, in 2006,
the State of Connecticut confirmed on him a Confirming Order. Now, that's something to brag about.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 7:46 AM
Monday, March 06, 2006
Hearing Jack's Voice
Jack Lazare, whose rich voice I can recall much more than his appearance, died in late February. He was among the last of the traditional radio hosts. Today, they are called DJs, but he was never that. He was of the era of swing music and big bands, when hosts interviewed great performers. Indeed, on his "Milkman's Matinee" in New York, Jack welcomed Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong and Benny Goodman, among many others.The funeral was private, but his legacy is not. His wife, Marilyn, is a superb piano teacher who instills in very young people the love of music that both Lazares demonstrated. I've been to a handful of recitals of her students, and I always marvel at the way children of 6 or 8 or 10 years master and embrace melodies of long ago. This was, I presume, a great satisfaction in Jack's final days.
And, a follow-up to yesterday's Oscar entry: My selection for Best Picture turned out prescient. Crash earned it. And, well, the pimp song -- we'll be singing that for awhile at sedate dinner parties. The Oscar show itself made me cringe much less often than the norm. Creative production values and a hefty use of film clips in clever ways helped. Jon Stewart acquitted himself nicely, though he was not as political as he might have been.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 9:08 AM
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Not a Brokebacker
You know it's hard out there for a pimp,when you're tryin' to make the money for the rent...
-- a rap from Hustle and Flow
A prediction: Brokeback Mountain will hog the Academy Awards tonight. This is not because it is a good movie (it is a good movie) but because the folks in Hollywood love to pat themselves on the back when, by mistake or otherwise, someone has produced a film that enlightens the masses on critical social or historical issues. "Aren't we important?" they seem to be saying. As if Hollywood, as an industry, is in any way living up to its potential as a voice of humanity. For every Brokeback Mountain or Hotel Rwanda, there are hundreds of cheap entertainments, driven simply by marketing and America's declining level of taste.
Every year, the "Academy" sponsors its annual Oscar-fest with intent of giving the impression that filmmakers are not only talented but courageous. Hogwash. And what about the stars themselves? Sometimes I wonder how movies actually get made. Actors at the top of their profession are so busy putting on monkey suits or gaudy gowns and being driven to award ceremonies it's a wonder that they ever have time to read or memorize a script. How much adulation do these people need? And what are these awards really for? I'll tell you what they're for: standing in front of a camera and speaking lines. Wouldn't it something if, annually, tens of millions of households tuned in instead to the American Hero Awards, if such a thing existed.
Well, we're stuck with it, and so I'm rooting against Brokeback Mountain, just because I'm weary off all the, well, back patting. I thought the movie was directed and acted nicely, but I didn't love it. (Annie Prouxl's original 30-page short story is what is lovable.) Nor did I love Munich, in which I think Spielberg missed the point. Crash was excellent, and had the right mix of entertainment and commentary, and may have been the best film.
Still, the only folks I'll root for are Terrence Howard and Felicity Huffman. Howard's performance as a pimp and rap composer in Hustle and Flow was captivating, and Huffman, as a transsexual in Transamerica was easily the best actress. I'm sure they'll be glad to hear that I think so, but that may be small comfort when all the jokes are delivered, the teary speeches read, and I have finished all of my wincing.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 7:53 AM
Friday, March 03, 2006
How To Save The State Budget
While the Connecticut legislature mulls (isn't that a wonderful headline verb?) changes in the way the state does business with its contractors (in the wake of the Governor Rowland scandal), I offer a proposal that would permanently ensure yearly surpluses:"Connecticut Policy Procedure 305030 (4f, scru u): When considering payment of a contractor please use the following method, based on a real case: Engage, for example, a writer in September to give the keynote speech in November to the convention of the Connecticut Commission on Culture and Tourism. Tell him you will pay him an honorarium. He will be delighted, because he is a writer, and writers need honoraria to eat. He will assume, of course, that you will pay him promptly. But you will do no such thing. You will string him along, sending him this form and that, this excuse and that, and say you are doing the best you can. You, of course, will be getting your own regular paychecks all along, so it won't bother you much. Morever, you will have the satisfaction of saving the state a few hundred dollars. And know that if your colleagues follow your excellent example the state will never spend a dime on contractors. Never mind that the following March, the writer, who admits that he needs honoraria to eat, is calling every week and now without any trace of a sense of humor.
"Violations of this new policy will be dealt with harshly. What do you think we are, honorable?"
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 4:58 AM
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