Japan, Packers and the Red Scare

Well, there's lots to discuss. So, no hor d'ouvres (how does one spell that? and why?), instead, let's to the meat and potatoes:

I spent most of November Learning to Bow and happily, too. Bruce Feiler's swiftly moving account of the Japanese education system as seen through the eyes of an American teacher, abroad for a year, cuts quickly to life behind the screens. I surprisingly enjoyed it... only surprisingly because it had been required reading for a high school history class, and I guess I never did read it, until now, when I don't have to, but choose to. It's funny how that works, reading and doing things when one doesn't have to instead of when one does have to... but that's life, right?

The point I want to make, though, is how EXACT Feiler is with his account. Little, of course, do I know about the Japanese, but during the proverbial (?) busiest travel weekend of the year, I found myself sharing close quarters with a lovely Japanese woman on an airplane (yes, I was one of the 1.8 million who passed through O'Hare this weekend). All I did was offer to help her with the coat and large purse she was holding, and she bowed to me, arigato, arigato. She was so kind, so polite, so by-the-book. I don't know, I was happy to be there. Call me crazy.

Packer Country
My job has taken me to Green Bay this weekend. What a crazy little place ... the actual city of Green Bay is sparse by any account of a city of such name recognition: a few shops, bars and banks, but mostly nothing. Drive less than ten minutes to Lambeu Field and you'll find a wealth of restaurants, movie palaces, luxury hotels, shopping meccas and the like. But hey, that's why people come here, right? Lucky for me the game was out-of-town this weekend.

Clooney Does Murrow
While near one of those movie palaces, having unloaded some of that cash that keeps growing on trees at a shopping mecca, I stopped in and caught a matinee of Good Night, and Good Luck. The theatre was TINY ... less than 90 seats and a screen small enough to rival my iPod screen (which, by the way, is supposed to be that small). The 90-minute film was also tiny. The beginning of the film used scrolling text to explain some narrative material -- hello? Anybodys home? It was like a high-school film class project... in fact, I think the one JJ and I did was better (perhaps someday I'll tell you about our experiences shooting Pocket Change). The choice of silence as the soundtrack was unnerving and made me squirm - I want a score! Give me a score! Oh, he sort of listened... the jazz crooning seemed out of place and--perhaps?--used only to extend the length of the flick? I dunno. I guess I just didn't get it.

I did, however, see some other movies this turkey day week: Walk the Line was fabulous! Shopgirl okay, Ice Harvest worse than anything I've ever seen in my life. Yech.

Apologies for no links or pictures this post. Maybe it's because you've been bad boys and girls. Coming when I have 'net access next: time zones, a dough boy commerical... and, if you're good, strangers in bathing suits.

Big Wednesday

CHICAGO griping

No, I'm not IN Chicago. I'm watching it. On Bravo. And huffing and puffing at the television industry. The dubbing in this film on its made-for-television edition is atrocious. Apparently it's fine to show skimpy costumes, lots of skin and suggestive "dancing," but we can't hear the word "ass"? Come on! Bastard, ass, God-damn, Jesus Christ, shit and screwing are just some of the words not allowed -- instead, we hear "blockhead," "butt," "gosh darn," "Joan of Arc," "shhh," and "seeing." OK, that's insane. First of all, this is cable. And a film. We are allowed to hear all of those words on network TV, but not on cable? And worse, they ruined one of my favorite lines in the film: "I don't mean to toot my own horn, but if Jesus Christ lived in Chicago today, and he had come to me and he had five thousand dollars, let's just say things would have turned out differently." Instead, the TV audience hears about Billy Flynn changing the life of Joan of Arc? Goodness.

Oh, and they sure pick terrible times to take commercial breaks. In the middle of Mama Morton's big number! Three bars into the intro of "Nowadays." Sheesh!

A Lovely Cheese Pizza, Just for Me

I guess I'm making it a tradition to watch this classic John Hughes/Chris Columbus film each holiday season, although, perhaps I've done it too early this year. Thanks to TBS and a weekend without commitments, I had the tube on while this holiday prankster of a flick played. I've seen this, oh, probably a dozen times and still laugh out loud at Daniel Stern climbing through the window and stepping, barefoot, unknowingly on to a carefully arranged assortment of breakable Christmas tree ornaments. Ha!

What makes us watch this movie over and over again? I have no idea, actually. I guess it's not really too dated, but it's not exactly the big-budget extravaganzas that the studios are putting out recently. Perhaps it's just the fun we have with the silliness of it. Goodness, it IS fun, isn't it?

Here's a sign of the times, huh? Fifteen years ago, when this comedy came out, this sort of tagline worked to promote a movie: "When Kevin's Family Left For Vacation, They Forgot One Minor Detail: Kevin. But Don't Worry... He Cooks. He Cleans. He Kicks Some Butt." Yikes! If they used that nowadays, no one would go see it.

That's all. Just a couple of paragraphs about the first movie of the day. Now, A Mighty Wind on Comedy Central. More from Detroit in the coming days.

Live! from Cincinnati

Greetings from Dayton, OH

Philly on Sunday

The Old City Philadelphia was great today, a beautiful sunny Sunday - almost 70 degrees. The top picture is Independence Hall, from the back, moments before I stepped in horse poop. The bottom, the tomb of the unknown soldier in Washington Square, dedicated to those who fought and died in the Revolutionary War. I enjoyed my little history lesson time this afternoon.

Ticky, ticky, tock, Bankok/What a sight and what a city
More, though, I enjoyed the Philadelphia Theatre Company's world premiere production of Christopher Durang's Adrift in Macao. My first impressions: "Brilliant. Silly. Putting the comedy back into musical comedy." A takeoff of the film noirish classics, the musical boasts zany presentational insanity. Everything from a maltese falcon to smuggled diamonds, opium, McCarthy-ism, an undercover agent, a drag queen, and full audience-participation sing-a-long, Durang and Peter Melnick's magical new masterpiece receives a first rate production by the PTC.

In a delightful, laugh-out-loud show, it was difficult to choose a highlight. However, I did, just for you. At my first glance at the playbill, I was distraught [no, really!] to see Michael Rupert without a song to sing. Luckily, he was too. 3/4 of the way through the show [about time for an eleven o'clock number], he was left onstage alone in a blackout. He called up to the booth, asking for lights, pulled sheet music from his pocket, handed it to the conductor and explained to the audience... the authors didn't develop his character enough to provide him a song, so he took it upon himself to hire another composer to write him a song, which he sang, which was about the fact that he didn't have a song. It was Durang and Rupert at their best.

Michele Ragusa, too, was great, although channeling the great Donna Murphy... her Dorothy moment ["I wanna go home, I wanna go home"] brought the house down.

Music direction to a "t" by Fred Lassen; witty, funny and genius choreography by Christopher Gattelli and slick direction by Sheryl Kaller makeAdrift in Macao an absolutely winning combination of theatrical brilliancee. My thoughts? GO SEE IT. SEE NOTHING UNTIL YOU SEE THIS SHOW.