s'Newz

...an occasional series mentioning current events which held my interest this week...

The Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery hung its newest presidential portrait recently, and quickly found its caption in dispute. Every portrait allows 140 words, summing up the subject's presidency. The original caption included the phrase: "the attacks on September 11, 2001, that led to wars in Afghanistan and Iraq . . ." A senator from Vermont was not pleased with the inference that there was a causal relationship between 9/11 and the Iraqi quagmire into which President Bush engulfed the nation. "When President Bush and Vice President Cheney misled our nation into the war in Iraq, they certainly cited the attacks on September 11, along with the equally specious claim that Iraq possessed vast arsenals of weapons of mass destruction. The notion, however, that 9/11 and Iraq were linked, or that one 'led to' the other, has been widely and authoritatively debunked." The Smithsonian agreed, and changed the wording on the caption to read, ". . . Bush found his two terms in office instead marked by a series of cataclysmic events: the attacks on September 11, 2001; the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq; the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina; and a financial crisis during his last months in office." This adjustment sounds reasonable to me. Bush's tenure was indeed cataclysmic, and we will not be recovering from his presidency anytime soon.




The Obama Inauguration has stirred up a couple of brouhahas, one a lot nastier than the other. In his speech, the new president included "non-believers" in his description of the patchwork of America, and many right-wing black clergymen have protested. Though over 16 % of Americans describe themselves as "non-believers," those conservative men of God do not want these heretics included in any mention of American heritage. Of course, these are the same sort of bigots who raised a whole lot of hell, and a whole lot of money, to pass California's Prop 8, removing the marital rights of same-sex couples. Yet another example of how so many leaders of Organized Religion feel justified in trouncing the civil liberties of those who do not share their beliefs.




I wonder when it was, exactly, that Christianity became EXclusive, rather than INclusive...

I got a giggle over the revelation that classical performers Yo-Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman had pulled a Milli-Vanilli at the Obama Inauguration; they had pre-recorded their piece and were just "string sync-ing" for the cameras. (It reminded me of the production of Opus I did several years ago; we did the same thing, but never hid the fact.) The frigid weather was blamed in this case, and everyone agreed that keeping the piano in tune would have been impossible under the circumstances. But then, why the charade? Why not just pipe the pre-recorded selection through the speakers without the pretence? Or use those jumbo screens to show a video of the performers recording the piece?

Aretha Franklin certainly was not lip sync-ing, but even she admits perhaps she ought to have been. She was quoted immediately following her performance that she was very disappointed in her own work. The cold took a toll on the Queen of Soul, and she took an unfortunate breath at the very top of her rendition of "America," right between syllables: "My count-(breath)-try 'tis of thee..." Sing it aloud yourself, and you'll discover the misfortune.

On the bright side, her performance seemed to be upstaged by her hat.

(update, 2/6/09: Aretha has made a quick trip to the studio to record a "preferred version" of her inaugural song, which will soon be available as an alternative to her live take)

I wrote a while ago about Jeremy Piven bolting from his Broadway commitment to Speed-the-Plow. More of the story has now come out. The show opened in early October to good reviews, but according to the producers, Piven immediately started making noise about leaving the show before its scheduled closing in late February. The production schedule was adjusted to accommodate Piven's attendance at the Golden Globes in Los Angeles. As soon as those plans were finalized, Piven informed the producers that he would not be returning to the show after the awards. Arrangements were made for William H. Macy to replace Piven during the show's final few months. Many weeks prior to his departure to attend the Golden Globes, with no notice whatsoever, Piven bolted from Speed-the-Plow, citing a dangerous level of mercury in his system. Too much sushi between shows or something. Macy was not available to take over the part that early, so the understudy played Piven's role while the producers scrambled for a higher profile replacement. Norbert Leo Butz, a Tony-winning Broadway favorite, assumed the role, giving several performances carrying the script. But the box office dropped dramatically in the absence of the Emmy-winning Piven.

This week, the show's producers filed a grievance against Piven with Actors Equity.

I don't get HBO, so I do not watch Piven's show Entourage, but I enjoyed him as a regular on Ellen Degeneres's sitcom a decade or so ago. But he's giving the "TV Star Turned Broadway Actor" group a bad name, if it ever had a good one (remember Kelsey Grammer's disastrous Macbeth?). Recently, Katie Holmes, Christina Applegate, and Jennifer Garner have all graced the New York boards, and have acquitted themselves well. I'm not the first person to guess Piven was unpleasantly surprised by the challenge of 8 shows a week, requiring vastly more energy and focus than a TV series. Kristen Chenoweth, one of the rare stars who moves easily from TV to stage, warned other film stars who consider hitting Broadway during their downtime that the stage will "kick your ass."

The story of Piven deserting his stage commitment is probably not getting much traction in middle America (you know, those people who think Muslims, Hindus, and non-believers should not be included in a presidential speech), but it's getting lots of attention among theatre folk. Here's an hilarious parody aimed directly at Piven, to the Pal Joey tune, "Zip."

Friday Dance Party: Danger, Will Robinson

What a week it's been, for the whole country, even the world, but especially for those of us who live in DC. An amazing, historic week, which deserves to be honored any way we can. It's time for a respectful, hopeful, and most of all, dignified tribute to a new era of competence and inspiration.

Well, you'll have to go someplace else for that. Instead, let's honor somebody else. Here's a guy of whom you may never have heard, until his death this week brought him back into the national spotlight. Everyone "of a certain age" has seen Bob May, though they may not have known it. Here he is:

Still don't recognize him? Here's a better shot:

He's the guy on the left.

The story goes that May was wandering around the studio one day when someone said, "Go over and see Irwin Allen. He needs somebody to wear a robot suit." That day, a star was born. Though May did not furnish the voice of Lost in Space's robot, he turned those accordion arms and claw hands, not to mention the bubble head, into an endearing character. After a year or so on the air, it was apparent that what was envisioned as an ensemble show had three break-out stars. Jonathan Harris's portrayal of Dr. Smith, originally a villainous saboteur whose actions caused the space travelers to veer hopelessly off-course, evolved into a masterfully comic performance. Billy Mumy, as Will Robinson, the youngest astronaut in history, provided Harris with a grounded counterweight. And Bob May's Robot (voiced by Dick Tufeld, who deserves equal credit) became the comic foil. The chemistry between the three performers was undeniable, and in its later years, the majority of episodes of Lost in Space centered around this trio.



So, with due respect for the momentous events of the week, and recognizing that monumental change is on the way for all of us, please enjoy this homage to Lost in Space:

A Story Retold...

The Star Wars Trilogy was probably the biggest cinematic event of my childhood, but I was never a big fan. I did see them as they came out, one by one, because, well, one did. But I have not seen them since. Still, this little clip cracked me up;

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.

John Mortimer

1923-2009

Mortimer conducted two high-profile careers simultaneously, that of the writer and the lawyer. A British barrister for decades, he was an expert in "Freedom of Speech" cases, winning victories for Linda (Deep Throat) Lovelace, Lady Chatterly's Lover, and the Sex Pistols. Meanwhile, he was an accomplished and prolific writer of films, television, plays, novels, and his own memoir (in three volumes). He is surely best known for creating and writing Rumpole of the Bailey, a television series concerning a disheveled legal defender of low-lifes and ne'er-do-wells. The show was a success throughout the world, and turned Shakespearean character actor Leo McKern into an international star. (McKern was not the first choice to play the role; Alistair Sim had been approached and turned down the gig.)

Mortimer wrote many plays during his career, including A Voyage Around My Father, the autobiographical story of a young lawyer and his blind parent. It was filmed with Alan Bates as the young Mortimer and Laurence Olivier as his father. He also adapted Franco Zeffirelli's autobiography into a film script, which Zeffirelli himself directed. Tea With Mussolini had a starry cast of award-winning actresses including Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Joan Plowright, Lily Tomlin, and Cher.

Mortimer received credit for the TV adaptation of the sprawling miniseries Brideshead Revisited (about which I have already written), but in fact, none of his finished teleplays were used. His greatest success remains the creation of Horace Rumpole. The charismatic character was at home in front of the most intimidating of judges (whom Rumpole called "old darlings"), and was likely to be found most any afternoon at Pommeroy's Wine Bar, sipping claret and quoting something literary, after which he would return home to his overbearing wife, "She Who Must Be Obeyed."

Mortimer was knighted in 1998, and since 2004, was a legal consultant on Boston Legal. His surviving children include actress Emily Mortimer (Point Blank).

Though in ill health for several years, Mortimer continued to create. After a morning glass of champagne, he would settle at his desk and write at least 1000 words, in illegible longhand. At the time of his death this week, he had four chapters completed of the latest Rumpole novel.

Escape From DC

Paging John Carpenter.

Remember his 1981 sci-fi flick Escape from New York? I confess I never saw the thing, but it made a significant splash, and turned the formerly clean-cut, white-bread, Disney-cultivated Kurt Russell into, well, an actor. I know it concerns a future (1997!) where the island of Manhattan has been turned into a maximum security prison. It's completely walled-in and cut off from the rest of the world.





Beginning this weekend, and lasting through Inauguration Day, DC will resemble that movie, though we hope without the marauding gangs (I wouldn't mind if Kurt shows up, though). Signs have already been posted announcing severe parking restrictions throughout the city. I mean SEVERE. As in NO PARKING ANYWHERE. 50 city blocks are being shut down to all vehicular traffic, except charter buses and limousines, natch. All the bridges leading into the city from Virginia will be off-limits to personal cars, to make enough room for buses arriving from all over the country. For up to 24 hours and more, downtown will effectively be cut off from the rest of the world. Security concerns are playing a part, but officials are claiming that it is the sheer numbers expected for the Big Day (anywhere from 1-3 million people!) that are causing such draconian measures.



Apparently, this inauguration breaks with tradition in that, for the most part, official events require reservations or tickets in advance. The only major event which is completely open to the public takes place Sunday afternoon, when a huge line-up of stars will be performing at the Lincoln Memorial. Well, the concert is open to anyone who can squeeze themselves onto the Mall. It is not being broadcast for all the world to see. HBO paid a pretty penny to lock up television rights to the event (the Obama people are getting some flack about that, as others believe it is an event of national significance and thus should be on a feed available to all networks. There is some logic to that; though HBO is sending it out for free, if you don't have cable, which about 30% of the country does not, you'll be missing it).

Whatever. That concert will require lots of street closures on Sunday as well. As for Tuesday's actual inauguration, look out. Metro has already warned that its trains and buses will be overtaxed and advised people to walk or ride a bicycle. Street parking will be non-existent, even if you could drive your car around the area, which you can't. The city is being locked up so tightly that hotels and restaurants, which expect a booming business, are wondering how to get supplies delivered or even how their own employees are going to come to work.

I live within walking distance of the mall and could attend the inauguration easier than most. That is, if I want to head out before dawn in order to pass through the security checkpoints, then stand for many frigid hours waiting to watch the proceedings on the large screens set up for the groundlings on the Mall. As for lining up along the parade route, forget about it.

I'll be home, watching the pomp on television, secure in the knowledge that it is a momentous occasion, and knowing I can always claim to have been in DC during the most historic inauguration since such things were invented.

I'll tell those mythical grandchildren all about it. I just don't have to mention I witnessed the whole thing in my pajamas.

Friday Dance Party: LA BAMBA !!

I imagine it's ethnically insensitive of me, but here goes: I expect all our Latin stars to be able to sing and dance. And it seems to be true, dating back to our earliest glimpses of stars such as Ricardo Montalban, whom we lost this week. Before he was Mr. Roarke, before he was Khan, before he luxuriated in fine Corinthian Leather, he was a song and dance man. Maybe I should say, a tango-and-salsa man. Oops, there I go again. Whatever. I wish I could find an online clip of Montalban as "El Gallo" in The Fantasticks, a role he played in the early 60s for television. (That was back when theatrical musicals had a regular place on TV.) I have a copy of that version, only 60 minutes long and in grainy black and white. Bert Lahr is playing one of the fathers, and a very young John Davidson plays the boy. But it is Montalban who steals the show as narrator-bandit El Gallo, crooning "Try to Remember" and breaking the girl's heart. In lieu of that, please enjoy one of the many musical numbers which Montalban performed in his days as a film contract player.

Viva Ricardo!

Patrick McGoohan

1928-2009

Though born in New York, McGoohan was raised in the UK and retained a British flair throughout his career. In his younger years, he had some success on stage, winning the London Drama Critics Award for Ibsen's Brand. In 1964, he was tagged to play the title role of secret agent Danger Man, which was renamed Secret Agent in the United States and spawned a hit theme song. His next television project is the one for which he will be most remembered. For only 17 episodes, he played the enigmatic "Number Six" in The Prisoner, a series which he helped create and write. The show resonated with the cold war generation's paranoia, and is now a cult classic. The opening credits explain it all for you:

I remember being alternately confused, intrigued, and frustrated with this series, but I never missed an episode. (Available on DVD, it's now fun to catch all the different British actors playing "Number Two," a role which changed frequently as each inhabitant of that bulbous chair failed in his mission to break the will of our hero.)

The Prisoner was not my first encounter with McGoohan. I experienced nightmares after watching his performance in a Disney TV movie, of all things. The piece was The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh, in which he played a priest who disguised himself as a scarecrow and avenged things. I was only 7 when I saw it, but it ruined scarecrows for me (sorry, Ray Bolger). I'm still unnerved by them.

In his later years, McGoohan maintained a presence on the big and small screen. He played King Edward I in Braveheart, and the Earl of Moray, the bastard brother of Mary, Queen of Scots. He won two Emmy awards, 16 years apart, for guest shots on Columbo. But there is no doubt he will be most famously remembered as the spy who tried to quit, tried to run, but was sequestered in the eerily charming Village of The Prisoner, where everyone had a number rather than a name.

"Be seeing you."