13th and Fifth Avenue

The photo on the right is one that I took yesterday of the corner that, when I first moved to NYC in 1987, looked more like the photo on the left. The Lone Star Cafe closed in 1989 but I did go there once shortly after I arrived—by myself, as I recall, although I'm not sure why: I've never been one to go alone to a bar very often and I didn't go to hear music. I don't think I was homesick, per se, but I may have just liked the idea of going to a Texas-style bar and drinking beer that I wouldn't have crossed the street to get back home (I'll drink a Lone Star if it's available in an NYC restaurant, like Marfa, but it's not a very good beer). The iguana stayed on the roof for a number of years until the building was converted to a deli in the '90s (I used to go there occasionally when I worked at a place down 13th Street a few doors) but it's been empty for four or five years. Now it's gone and I'm disappointed: it was a cool old building that will almost certainly be replaced by a high-rise luxury condo.

Prince and Mulberry Streets

On Saturday, Catherine and I were out shopping for props and set pieces for the Floydada workshop this week. As you can see it was a nice, sunny day (the last one for a while, as it turns out—we've had almost nothing but gray skies and rain every day since until today). As we walked through SoHo, Catherine noticed the way the sun was hitting this tree, which is in the cemetery at St. Patrick's Old Cathedral. This photo doesn't do justice to the dramatic impact that the sunlight made on the leaves: it was startlingly beautiful.

An Entertaining NYC Evening

Catherine and I had a full night on Friday: a meeting for coffee with a friend, a play, dinner and late night music. Perhaps because we didn't have to spend a lot of time on the subway—we walked to our first two commitments in SoHo and back for dinner in the East Village, so we only had to take the train to hear the band—we both said that we had a lot more fun than we'd been expecting to have. Even with the bitter cold (it was in the teens with a pretty strong wind).

The play we saw was Target Margin's production of Tennessee Williams' Ten Blocks on the Camino Real: it's an early one-act that Williams later expanded into the more famous full-length, Camino Real. I don't know the finished play at all—I've never read it or seen a production—but after seeing this earlier incarnation, I'm curious to get a copy and compare the two. It's an extremely expressionistic piece, which at first surprised me until I began to think about The Glass Menagerie and, to a lesser degree, Streetcar: they're both basically naturalistic plays that employ abstract devices in the storytelling; Ten Blocks, by contrast, is entirely surreal abstractions. The play begins when a young American boxer stumbles into an unnamed town—in Mexico, Spain, South America?—in which the inhabitants all appear to be in a sort of limbo: they don't seem entirely alive and yet they're not quite dead, either. This, of course, is the point of the piece—an allegory about life and death and the illusive, intangible connection between them; if it feels a bit heavy-handed by 2009 standards, I'm sure it was revelatory in 1948. I've been intrigued by the productions I've seen from director David Herskovits: he brings an eclectic visual sense to theater and doesn't shy away from making a point with broad strokes; it's not to everyone's taste but I think his augmentations of the theatrical devices serve the surrealistic world of Ten Blocks well. For instance, when Kilroy appears, he wears enormous golden boxing gloves that impede his ability to perform actions in the script; sound effects are amplified to deafening levels; the characters are exaggerated to the point of characture. The actors all give nice performances, especially Curt Hostetter; I had trouble hearing a couple of them several times but I was on the back row and, as he usually does, David used just about every inch of the cavernous playing area at the Ohio (I am so going to miss seeing plays in this space!). My favorite Target Margin piece is still the two-part Faust from 2006, but Ten Blocks is a strong work and a fascinating interpretation of a rarely-seen play.*

For dinner, we went to Xunta, a tapas bar in our neighborhood. The menu is Catalan—which anyone from Barcelona will tell you is not Spain—but most of the items are the same or very similar to Spanish dishes. While they usually have a great selection of wines, they hadn't recieved an order from their distributor last week so we wound up with what was basically our fourth choice; it was still pretty tasty. At the risk of sounding like a grumpy old guy, my only complaint about Xunta is that some of the menu is printed in blue ink and the blue lightbulbs they use make it very difficult to read: I had to get my phone out and use it as a flashlight. Apart from that, though, we really like the place: the service is good, the atmosphere cozy (the up-side to the lighting) and it's pretty inexpensive.

We ended our evening by heading out to Spike Hill to hear p o c k e tt k n i ff e, the resident Friday night band there. It's ridiculously easy for us to get there: we get the L train at First Avenue and take it one stop to Williamsburg; the bar is even right across the street from the subway entrance. Robby Sinclair, the band's drummer, also played in Ralph's production of A Quick Nut Bread and has worked with This Ambitious Orchestra. Naturally, we arrived to find Benjamin Ickies and his friend, Pablo Cubarle, already there with some other people—it may be a city of 9 million people but we invariably run into people we know at these events. Catherine and I liked the set they played: it was fairly eclectic—a couple of songs reminded me a little of Radiohead but there was also a sort of '80s techno number and one or two electronic numbers that had a more free form jazz feel. We arrived "late:" the band was supposed to start at 11 but we figured that wouldn't happen and, sure enough, we had time to get a beer before the first number around 11:30. The set had a nice flow, the guys are all good musicians and I was almost surprised when they announced their last song: the time flew by without my really noticing. I'm looking forward to seeing them play again—earlier in the evening, I hope.

*Interestingly enough, there is a film of the play from 1964 with Martin Sheen as Kilroy.

Winter Wonderland in NYC

I'm so glad to finally have a few minutes to write here again. These last few weeks, I wasn't even able to keep on top of everything for The Beggar's Opera workshop as I'd have liked to, let alone do any blogging. Regarding the workshop, I thought the performances were incredibly useful and successful in that I know a lot of things that have to be worked out before I can get back to the piece. My collaborator, Myrel, and I are going to try to keep working on the visuals, in particular, over the next few months because we got to spend the least time on those in this iteration. I'll keep you all updated on our progress there.

It's snowing today in NYC; they're predicting up to 6 inches, the last I heard. When I was growing up in Texas, we very rarely had snow; I can only remember a half dozen or so times (and maybe not even that many) in the 20-odd years I lived there. More often, we'd have ice storms, which are worse because the roads aren't drivable (so you can't go anywhere) and you can't play in it (all of our attempts to have ice ball fights wound up disastrously). So when I moved here in 1987, I was really looking forward to the kinds of New York City winters I'd grown up seeing in movies like The Lemon Drop Kid and Miracle on 34th Street. I pictured people merrily bustling through the streets, children building snowmen beside the curbs and the city growing more and more beautiful as its minor flaws are slowly masked by a layer of pure whiteness.

In reality, very little of that happens.

It is definitely beautiful to look at... in the parks. Three years ago when Christo and Jean-Claude's The Gates was installed in Central Park, the day Catherine and I went to see it with our friends, Renee and Stefan, it had snowed the day before and it was a fantastic way to see the piece: the contrast of the orange gates, the dark bare trees and the white snow was unforgettable. And, of course, that's where the children go to play—to the urban equivalent of a backyard. On snow days, the Parks Commissioner is always on NY1 in the morning, urging all of the kids to come on out to the parks for sledding, snowman building and hot chocolate.

New Yorkers are not, by and large, merry about the snow: we have to dodge cars in it, dodge dog poop and urine in it, dodge each other in it. It's pretty safe to say we all like to look at it but preferably from the comfort of our homes or from the comfort of a warm, dry neighborhood bar (most things, in my opinion, are best observed from a neighborhood bar: Lily Coogan's around the corner from our house, has stools in front of a big picture window that looks out on Second Avenue for exactly that purpose). Within minutes of landing, the snow starts to turn gray-brown from the grime (and the city is much, much cleaner today than it was in the 19th century; I shudder to think how snow must have looked back then). Also, snow must be cleared from the sidewalks within 4 hours of the cessation of snowfall, which means that there are then huge piles of dirty snow along the curb (which it seems some dog owners believe is a free zone in terms of the pooper-scooper laws—at least, it is invariably used that way). Add to that the gray-brown mountains left behind at every corner after the snow plows have gone through and you can easily understand why very few people are strolling along singing "Silver Bells" with their beloved on their arm.

That said, I still like New York when it snows. For a little while, at least. From the comfort of my office, I can look across the street at the empty building that I think would make a great arts center (if I had $6 million to purchase it and another $3 million to renovate it), watch the white drifts growing larger on the ledges and imagine looking out at this building from my office there on the 4th floor (or from my 5th floor apartment above that office, if I'm going to daydream). I can watch the kids playing in the park. I can go see my friend Nicky Paraiso's 10pm show at LaMaMa tonight and know that when I come out, the City will have that muffled rumble that always happens at night when it's blanketed in white—never quiet, of course, but so much less loud than usual.

Slow People Got No Reason

Catherine's and my favorite quote of the past few months comes courtesy of actor Adam Enright, who will be appearing in my production of The Beggar's Opera later this year. As anyone who has visited New York knows, there are a lot of oblivious pedestrians out strolling on the weekends; for those of us who have work to do and schedules to meet, they are an annoyance. To them, Adam says:

I realize it's "Sunday" for you but...

Of course, it's funnier in person with "air quotes"...

We Interrupt These Political Screeds...

The advantage of living in an apartment is that we're not saddled with maintaining the infrastructure of the building. The disadvantage of apartment living is that we have no control whatsoever with the maintenance of the building infrastructure. So if the owner wants to bring someone in to work on the boiler from 7am-2pm and I want to take a shower before I go to work, I'm getting up at 6:45. So now I'm up, don't have to be at work until 9:30 and it doesn't make sense for me to go back to sleep.

Might as well blog....

A Theater Weekend

Catherine and I had three very different plays to see this weekend: one Off-Off Broadway and two Off Broadway. Actually, the final number will be four-in-a-row, because we're seeing [title of show] tonight on Broadway, but I don't want this post to be absurdly long. It was interesting seeing these three in rapid succession because, apart from reviewers and a few hard-core theater people, I can't imagine anyone choosing to spend a weekend with a traditional American comedy, an absurdist political comedy, and an all-vocal jazz/pop musical—an eclectic mix, to say the least.

Friday was Frank Blocker's play Suite Atlanta at 78th Street Theater Lab. Frank is an incredibly talented actor and writer who has appeared in several PWP productions. He always gives a first-rate performance and this production is no exception: he and his partner, Sidney Stone, do a great job here playing very different characters of both genders (a little drag always livens up an evening!). The play consists of a series of vignettes that take place in a single Atlanta hotel room, similar to Neil Simon's plays Plaza Suite and California Suite. Frank has made the play feel more like a single piece by weaving through the evening a political sex scandal which occurred in the room and the inevitable film project that it inspires. He's also avoided making the play just one-joke-after-another by focusing each scene on the personal stories of the various characters who inhabit this room—one of his strengths as a playwright. Some vignettes work better than others—I especially liked the one with two elderly sisters from New York and another one involving the casting director for the film—but it's a clever piece that I hope he continues to develop.

If you can't get to this production, Frank will also be performing his hilarious solo piece, Southern Gothic Novel, monthly at Stage Left Studio beginning August 4. Catherine and I saw it there earlier this summer—our second time—and it's a treat. If you're in NYC or going to be visiting this fall, go see it.

Saturday night found us at the Barrow Street Theater for the Chicago-based Theater Oobleck's The Strangerer. I've never read any Albert Camus, but the summary of his similarly titled novel (which was on George W. Bush's "vacation reading list" a few years ago) makes me think it would not have added anything to my enjoyment of this production. The context for the piece is the first 2004 presidential debate between Bush and John Kerry, moderated by Jim Lehrer; and, for the first 7-8 minutes—including a couple of minutes where Lehrer addresses "the debate audience" (us) before the cameras start rolling—it's exactly what I remember from the broadcast... right up until President Bush pulls a knife and stabs Lehrer during Kerry's first answer. After that, it gets strangerer and strangerer. The performances are all strong, especially Colm O'Reilly, even though he's far younger and doesn't resemble Lehrer much at all: his actions, manners and speaking style are dead on. Because Mickle Maher's script follows the debate format fairly closely—question, answer and rebuttal—it's talky and there were a few times where I thought the speeches went on a little too long; it's a 90-minute piece that could have been trimmed to 75. In spite of this, it's a highly-inventive and cleverly-realized production—which is all the more remarkable because Theatre Oobleck never works with a director.

Finally, last night, we saw Expatriate at the Culture Project. It's a two-character play that follows the lives of two American friends from childhood through their rise to pop stardom in Paris. Playwright/actor Lennelle Moïse has a gift for poetry—both in her lyrics and her dialogue—and has created two interesting, full characters for this play. The "all-vocal" music she creates with the remarkably talented Karla Mosley, using electronic loop machines to sample their own voices for the accompaniments, is richly layered and quite beautiful. Director, Tamilla Woodward, and her design team have created an intriguing production that I thoroughly enjoyed watching. The story was ultimately the only part of the production that left me wanting: the characters seem more appropriate for a simpler story than the grand melodrama they inhabit. I also think it might be better served with a different title: it's a piece about the difficult relationship between these two women; their lives abroad are merely a plot point. Granted, one might say that Moïse's character distances herself from Mosley's (and other, unseen people) but that strains the metaphor for me and doesn't really say much about the play we ultimately see onstage. That said, Moïse is an extremely talented playwright and musician, and I definitely plan to see her next production.

This Day in NYC History

June 3, 1987: After 27 hours on the road, I drove through the Lincoln Tunnel into Manhattan and began my life in New York. I haven't yet reached the point where I've lived in this state longer than I lived in Texas (that will occur on this date in 2013), but I've definitely lived in NYC longer than I have any other city. It struck me, as I walked to work today, that the children who were born the day I arrived are going out for their first legal drinks this evening... and that doesn't make me feel old, oddly enough.

Art In NYC This Week

• The Bentfootes, a film by Kriota Wilberg and Todd Alcott, is playing Saturday, Sunday and Tuesday at 1pm in New Dance Alliance's Performance Mix festival at 210 Front Street. I saw this piece as a live performance 2 years ago (and loved it) and the film in the Lincoln Center Dance on Film festival this past January (and loved it again). It's a mockumentary in tribute to an American dance family—the eponymous Bentfootes—who compensated for their lack of talent with an intense passion for the artform. It's incredibly funny, well-written, well-performed and while the Bentfootes may not have very good artists, Kriota's choreography is exceptional—it takes an incredibly skilled artist to create bad art that looks like it's supposed to be bad!

• Aisling Arts' The Importance of Being Earnest at the New York Irish Center in L.I.C. Obviously, I'm more than a little biased in that Catherine is playing Lady Bracknell in the production, but even if she wasn't, I'm still a big fan of Bryn Manion and Wendy Remington's work and Earnest is, in my opinion, the funniest play of all time. The Saturday and Sunday performances both weekends are benefits for the center with cocktails and dinner served. Great Irish food, drinks and comedy for $45: you won't find a better bargain in New York! (Incidentally, although I linked to the Lady Bracknell interrogation scene from the most excellent film by Anthony Asquith, that not at all the style of Aisling's production—I just love Edith Evans in the movie).

• Obviously, our Hector: like I wouldn't plug that! We're sold out tonight but there are still tickets available for Sunday at 3.

Shameless Plugs for Theatre in NYC

So mark your calendars: March is going to be a busy month, theatre-wise: 

March 12 & 15: Dennis Blackwell's cabaret with Jason Hart, directed by ModFab.

March 27,28 & 30: My company, Peculiar Works Project, is doing a 3-performance production at the Gershwin Hotel in Chelsea.

March 27 - April 6: Catherine is doing a two-weekend production of The Importance of Being Earnest with Aisling Arts.

through March 22: Rus(h) by James Scruggs, directed by Kristin Marting at 3LD. I saw a workshop of this piece last year and I'm looking forward to seeing where James and Kirstin have taken the piece.

through April: Hourglass Group's The Beebo Brinker Chronicles, which Catherine and I saw last fall and loved.

In Xanadu Did Kubla Khan...

I don't go to Broadway shows often. There's the cost, of course: Catherine and I see a lot of plays every week, but probably 95% of the tickets we buy are the $15-20 Off Off Broadway variety. There's also the fact that, usually, there's not that much on Broadway that interests me. Oddly enough, there are several productions now or coming up soon that I think we will lay out the scratch to see: we already have tickets to see Tom Stoppard's Rock and Roll; we want to see The 39 Steps (partly because we love the Hitchcock film and partly because it sounds like the kind of meta-theatrical production we really like); and Sunday in the Park with George (while I'm not a big fan of musicals, I've always loved Sondheim).

Last night, we had tickets to see Xanadu.

I wasn't expecting much. I never saw the movie. I began my senior year in high school in 1980, so every song in the score was played ad infinitum on KVIL in Fort Worth/Dallas (which was always the ladies' radio station of choice when I went parking in my mom's '77 LTD—unlike my '72 Gremlin, that car had FM stereo). I think the last time I went roller skating, they were still playing Grand Funk Railroad's cover of "The Locomotion".  And I never really liked Olivia Newton-John—ever.

I can't say I loved the show, but overall I had a good time. Douglas Carter Beane's book was by far my favorite part of the evening: tightly written, integrated the songs nicely, and funny in the self-referential way I expected it to be. I told Catherine that I thought the joke about it being a show for 40-year old gay men was probably the most dead-on—you don't have to be a gay man, but there were several times when I thought the 60-year-old guy sitting next to us or the under-30-somethings in the audience probably didn't get what I thought were some of the funnier lines.

As for the rest of the show, the music is well-performed, both by the band and the cast... although, with the exception of "Evil Woman" and "Strange Magic," I could happily live the rest of my life and never hearing any of the songs again (and those two very rarely, really). I thought the pace was good until the last half hour, when it started to drag a bit; but the whole thing is only 90 minutes without an intermission—the PERFECT length for any play. It's not much of a role for him but Tony Roberts is a first-rate actor and he does a good job; he pushed for laughs less than anyone else in the cast (it's not funnier if you mug, gang—it just telegraphs to the audience that you don't trust the material).

The big thing I came away with at the end of the evening was how difficult it is to write comedy, especially in a commercial situation. I thought Beane allowed his own sensibilities came out in the book and, while it's not my sense of humor, it worked in this case. I don't mean this in a nasty way, but it made me think of good sitcom writing—it doesn't have an edge and the jokes aren't very challenging, but they usually land. Even as a devotee of more edgy, experimental work, I've seen plenty of productions downtown that were less successful.

And, for the record, Catherine and I were joking before the show that we wouldn't be hearing any Coleridge during the show... and we were wrong!