We The People

In the midst of absolute non-stop bingeing episodes of The West Wing, I bummed a Prime password in order to watch What the Constitution Means to Me. Heidi Schreck’s autobiographical play premiered in 2017, ran on Broadway in 2019 and, at some unknown point in the future when touring Broadway is once again a thing, is set to head out on a national tour. But we don’t have to wait. Schreck’s play, filmed during its’ Broadway run, is now available to stream. And stream it you should.

 
The play’s premise is based on Schreck’s time spent crossing the country giving speeches about the Constitution during her teen years, eventually making enough to fund her college education. One wonders how the teenaged Schreck engaged with what some consider an arcane document. The United States Constitution, the document upon which the foundation of our republic is built, carries an air of mystery. Hundreds of years old, incredibly difficult to amend, the Constitution may seem to have little relevance to the day-to-day life of people living in the United States. Over the course of the play Schreck schools the audience better than any history teacher ever could that the Constitution, in fact, has a more direct impact than many would ever imagine.

Schreck's feelings about the Constitution, naturally, have evolved over time. And Schreck, as an adult, is more willing and able to come to terms with some of the traumas that she and her family has experienced. To detail her specific personal connections to the Constitution here would be to reveal too much of the play’s content. Suffice it to say, touching on immigration, women’s rights and domestic abuse, Schreck’s connections to the document and the effect of its' interpretation are eye opening.

Schreck is an engaging storyteller if a bit frenetic. At times, the play seems to lose focus, but Schreck addresses that. And, in reality, any seeming digressions only serve to make the play all that more personal. At the play’s conclusion, a young student debater joins Schreck on stage. The two spar in a brief parliamentary style debate, one taking the position to keep the Constitution, the other, to abolish it. At the end of the debate, the audience takes a vote: keep or abolish.

 
What I found most surprising and engaging,  even given my admittedly lacking Constitutional knowledge (though I did rock a Con Law paper about the Terry stop), is that both arguments have valid points. Points that anyone could admit they identify with. And therein lies the case for everyone in this country to watch this play. When personal connections are made with the Constitution, with laws, with policies, the tendency is for us all to become more invested, even perhaps, as Schreck advocates, run for local office. Eventually, over time, the policymakers look a lot less like old, white men and more like the diverse country we are. And the laws and policies that are produced become equitable to all people. Watch What the Constitution Means to Me. And then vote. 

Welcome to Fantasy Island

And on my fantasy island, Jed Bartlet is President. And not only is he intelligent and kind, but he is surrounded by a group of advisors who work incredibly hard to run the government for the betterment of the people of the United States. 

The West Wing is pretty close to television perfection. “Is.” Present tense. For two reasons: because the show is more than just extraordinary for its’ time but also because streaming services ensure that nothing exists in the past the way it used to. Aaron Sorkin’s masterpiece is brilliantly acted, exquisitely written and is just as relevant today as when it debuted thirty years ago. 

Martin Sheen leads the incredible cast. Sheen imbues the role of President Bartlet with every quality one could want in a leader: passionate, fair, incredibly intelligent and yet still willing to admit he cannot possibly know everything. Around Bartlet circles his senior staff, played throughout the series by Allison Janney, Bradley Whitford, Richard Schiff, John Spencer, Dule Hill, Rob Lowe and Joshua Malina. Every single one of the actors absolutely transforms into their characters. Janney stands out. Her portrayal of Press Secretary CJ Cregg is a showcase for her ability to balance and pull off a delicate mix of drama and humor, even physical comedy. But Sheen and John Spencer, as Chief of Staff Leo McGarry, are the tent poles of The West Wing. Their leadership and the respect they garner from everyone around them is very apparently not just the case on screen.

As a devoted fan of The American President, I was already well acquainted with Sorkin’s skill in the fictional political arena. The West Wing's dialogue is incredibly smart. To the point that, from time to time, a dictionary is a necessary viewing companion. The characters speak at a rapid-fire pace, illustrating the fact that they know there is so much to do and so little time in which to do it. Along those same lines, Sorkin made famous the ‘walk and talk’ in which characters hold their conversations on the go, you know, like in real life. The brilliance in the writing is not just the dialogue, it is also the construction and execution of the storylines and the contrasts present in every episode. There are good days and bad. Some days you’re up and your coworker is down, sometimes the opposite. And more often that not everything can, and does, change on a dime. Sorkin did not pen every episode and praise is, of course, due to the slate of writers for the show. The writers did an incredible job illustrating how challenging the act of governing is, and how many devoted, hard-working people that requires. At least in normal times.

Which leads me to relevance. In some ways, the relevancy of The West Wing is heart-breaking. Systemic racism, gay rights, Roe v. Wade, unrest in the Middle East, these stories could just as easily be from today’s headlines rather than those of thirty years ago. With one incredibly key difference: during the Bartlet administration there are thousands of intelligent people working to make this fantasy island a better place to live. Cut to, real world. The incoherence in the current administration qualifies for the moniker ‘stranger than fiction’ better than any storyline a team of writers could ever come up with. And I realize it may not be entirely fair to compare a fictional administration to a real one, but with White House staffers advising for The West Wing, the portrayal of the goings on in the Bartlet administration is as a close a glimpse the public will get to the day to day struggle involved in running the United States government. Without a doubt, this fictional band of civil servants is whom I choose to think are running the country. Let us hope beyond hope that by this time next week my fantasy island bears a closer resemblance to our reality.

Up, Up and Away?

I use closed captioning on Netflix, gotta have it. I suppose I use the service so that when my ears start to go there will be no adjustment period, and, I have learned, you can tell a lot about a show based on the music descriptions. Away is the kind of show wherein most scenes open with the following phrase on the screen: ethereal music plays. 'Ethereal’ is followed closely by ‘melancholy.’ Tone setting indeed. Away strives for great drama but, absent likable characters, misses the boat, er, ship, rather.

Away follows the crew of the Atlas, the first manned mission to Mars, and centers on Commander Emma Green. Green (Hilary Swank), a former Navy pilot, lives and breathes for challenges. Traveling to Mars is the culmination of a lifetime of hard work, the ultimate challenge. Her husband Matt, played by Josh Charles, is an engineer with NASA who, were it not for a medical condition restricting his flight clearance, may have been the one in the family on board the Atlas. Their daughter Lex (Talitha Bateman) is going through the phases of normal teenage angst, but magnified given that her mother is several million miles away and her father is partially responsible for the success of her return. When a fire starts on board the ship soon after settling into the journey, Emma’s command is called into question. Striving to earn their trust and prove herself drives Emma’s actions for the remainder of the mission.

In the 10 episode series, each member of the Atlas crew gets an episode devoted to his or her backstory. Rather predictably, each is searching for what has thus far been unattainable: redemption, meaning, healing. Sadly, none of the stories are particularly compelling. Their stories of grief, guilt and secret love are relatable on paper. However, none of the characters, Green included, are particularly likable and, as a result, their stories feel hollow. It’s almost as if the technology to send humans to Mars was not quite ready so they sent Bicentennial Man-esque robots in their place. The characters, rather than naturally experiencing a range of emotions, exhibit signature traits of each emotion as they have been programmed.

 
At its core, Away is a family drama. Half of the characters happen to be in space, and the inherent dangers in the mission, of course, add a layer of complexity that most families don’t experience in quite the same way. However, plenty of families deal with the strain of being apart and the fear of having a loved one in harm’s way. Unfortunately, Away lacks heart and emotional truth and, as a result, never really gets off the ground.

Now, I do not profess to understand the technology required to send a crew to Mars. But I do know that should I ever make that journey, and we don't use the hyper-sleep method used in the 1997 gem RocketMan, NASA  better spring for some real bed pillows, not the glorified chair pads the Atlas crew puts up with. SPOILER ALERT! In the final episode of the season, the Atlas crew successfully lands on Mars. But in many ways, the journey has only just begun. There is still work to be done on Mars and, of course, the long trip home lies ahead. Since the likelihood of my tuning in for any remaining seasons is slim, I will write the ending I would like to see: Emma returns home from Mars, and, having learned the value of human connection, apologizes to Lex for not being a particularly lovable parent, and learns to smile and be happy. Onward and upward. 

A Point in Time Report

My life right now, in numbers. 

I bet if Josh Ritter sang to my plants they would thrive

22 – Boxes of cereal currently biding their time in my pantry before ending up in my belly.

5 – Josh Ritter shows attended since I discovered his brilliance in 2007, not nearly enough.

8 – Months since my last haircut.

3 – Couch snoozies per week, if I am lucky.

6 – Bottles of soaps and sprays on the bathroom counter.

13 – Houseplants I have purchased or been given.

4 – Houseplants currently happy and healthy in my humble home.

2 –Houseplants purchased four days ago.

1 – Average number of bowls of cereal eaten per day. Okay, let’s be real, my weekend and midnight snack consumption likely brings that average up to 1.5.

23 – Mini marshmallows consumed per sitting, give or take 10-15 mallows.

7 – The Bridges of Madison County performances attended, a devastatingly small number.

35 – My age, in years. Though according to the high school kids I worked with this summer, one of whom exclaimed in shock, “you’re like old enough to be my mom” I don’t look a day over 22.

104 – Typical number of pizza slices consumed per year. Yes, that equates to 2 slices each week, all year long.

37 – Wicked performances attended.

24 – Miles biked on my trusty, reliable trail.

0 – Number of live performances attended since February. Heartbreaking. 

Too many to count – Gilmore Girls viewings. Check with Netflix for my stats. 

It's Time U Start

The Hate U Give is devastatingly relevant. Angie Thomas has written a story set in present day, but one that, sadly, could have been plucked from almost any century in United States history. Thank goodness for writers like Thomas, who can provide some of the education that is so desperately needed in this country.  I'll admit I am a little late to The Hate U Give, it was published in 2017, but I am hoping that this moment in American history will drive more people to read the book and compel more people to band together to end the injustice in this country.

The Hate U Give introduces us to Starr Carter, a 16-year old Black girl living in the predominantly poor, Black neighborhood of Garden Heights. Starr’s parents, recognizing the limitations of the local school district, send Starr and her brothers to the white, affluent Williamson Prep School. Starr keeps her worlds separate, assuming, perhaps correctly, that her white friends will not understand her Black heritage and her Black friends will not understand the prep school environment. When Starr is the only witness to the killing of her childhood friend Khalil by a white police officer, and in the ensuing media frenzy and the introspection that follows, Starr begins to question why she must keep her worlds separate.

To those around her, Starr is a typical teenager. Little do they know, particularly her white friends, the effort she puts forth to maintain the 'typical teen' vibe. Because it has been ingrained in Starr that she should act a certain way around whites (never let them think you are from the ghetto) while maintaining a sort of street cred in her neighborhood, there are actually two Starrs. One, born and raised in the projects, is decidedly not a "cool" kid. The other Starr, as one of only two Black kids at Williamson Prep, is cool simply because of the color of her skin. Starr code switches effortlessly between her two worlds and the inherent unfairness in not being able to simply be herself is essentially accepted without question. And, to me, that is the heart of the matter in The Hate U Give. It's the crux of what many may not understand about the Black experience. Black people do not have the privilege to simply exist and live as themselves. In order to be accepted by the dominant culture, certain expectations must be met and that almost always requires Black people to withhold part of their authentic self. And it simply is not fair, it is not right. 

 

Thomas has created a neighborhood and characters that, while fictional, are entirely realistic and their experiences are no doubt familiar for thousands of young Black kids. Writing in Starr’s voice and personifying the doubts, the fears and the triumphs, Thomas brilliantly builds tension right up to the end of the book – a sure sign of a well-written piece of fiction.  The Hate U Give gets its name from a Tupac Shakur lyric. The conversation between Starr and her dad about how Tupac’s lyrics describe systemic racism is crucial, not just for young readers to whom the book is targeted, but anyone looking to start or bolster their education in regards to the Black Lives Matter movement.  

Though the book opens with the tragedy of Khalil's death, I spent the rest of the book waiting for the other shoe to drop. When will the next Black man die or be killed and who will it be? The constant tension and the cloud of fear that darkens every sky seem illustrative of the Black experience, particularly the Black, male experience in the United States. I use the word “seem” because I can never claim to have anywhere near the same experiences as my Black counterparts, but I can try to understand and work to stop it. And you can, too. Start small. Start by learning about the Black experience. Start by reading The Hate U Give.

The Soundtrack of Childhood

I had a light bulb moment watching the documentary Howard, streaming on Disney+. The realization was this: Howard Ashman and Alan Menken wrote the music of my childhood, in the form of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. 

I possessed not one, but two, sets of The Little Mermaid sheets. Presumably so there was never a moment Ariel was not flipping her fins as I drifted off to sleep. I spent early elementary school on the swim team, so you can imagine the “Part of Your World” reenactments getting out of the pool at the end of practice. And Beauty and the Beast? Could not get enough. My Barbie collection was pretty small compared to my peers, but did I have to have Belle and Beast? You bet I did. Belle came with both her blue town dress and her gold gown and Beast had a sort of mask type thing to be removed after he learns to love and earns Belle’s love in return.

But back to Ashman and Menken, both musical geniuses to be sure. Each experienced individual successes but, in writing together, their strengths were magnified. Ashman’s experience with failure seemed to drive him even harder, giving him something to prove. Smile’s short run on Broadway (only 48 performances) would have rocked some to their core, but Ashman forged ahead. There is no doubt much more to Ashman than is revealed in this documentary, but what does shine through is Ashman’s passion. A man devoid of passion does not continue to create while staring death in the face. Ashman loved the arts and believed in their power to heal and uplift. The world was robbed of the chance to experience everything else Ashman would have produced throughout what would have no doubt been a long and productive career. But his legacy lives on. 30 years later, when Belle yearns for more than her provincial life and the melody feels instantly familiar and relatable and when “Be Our Guest” elicits a tongue twisting joy just as it did the first time we heard it, that’s Howard Ashman. 

One can hope that a future documentary, Alan, will be greenlit soon.

Defying Expectations

Natalie Maines, Martie Maguire and Emily Strayer, better known as The Chicks, have defied expectations their entire careers. First, as an all-female band that took the male-dominated country music genre by storm. Then, after being rejected by the very institution they helped shape into the juggernaut it became, by refusing to stay silent in the face of intense political and cultural backlash. A band composed of less confident members may have thrown in the towel. Not The Chicks. A lengthy hiatus seems to be exactly what the band needed. Their new album is personal, pointed and has a sound all its’ own.

Gaslighter is The Chicks’ first album in fourteen years. Prior to Gaslighter was 2006’s Taking the Long Way, released after a much briefer period of downtime after the band experienced an intense backlash after Maines’ off-handed comment about then sitting President Bush. Remember the good old days, when it seemed bizarre that a doofus ended up as the most powerful person in the world? Where is Doc Brown and how do we get 1.21 gigawatts? 

Gaslighter has a tone similar to Taking the Long Way, mostly because the focus feels just as intensely personal. Speculation is rampant that the album’s motivation is lead singer Maines’ divorce. The Chicks, thus far, have declined to confirm their source material. There seems to be authenticity in some of the absolutely searing  and specific lyrics, but whether or not that gets confirmed really does not matter. While Gaslighter may get the ‘break up’ album moniker, it tackles so much more than just a break up. The universal themes in Gaslighter, finding strength in the face of pain and uncertainty and the difficulty inherent in personal growth and change will certainly resonate with many, especially given the insecurity brought on by a global pandemic and the upheaval of the socio-political climate in the United States. 

Gaslighter completely disregards any kind of genre rulebook. And that is because The Chicks defy any one genre. The Chicks clearly did not set out to make a country, pop or crossover album; they set out to make a Chicks album and they don’t care if you don’t like it. The undeniably catchy title track opens the album and sets a course for the rest of the tracks. “Gaslighter” and “March, March” practically require foot stomping, “Texas Man” has a power pop feel and “Everybody Loves You” is haunting and introspective. Another highlight, “Julianna Calm Down,” reminds us to find strength within ourselves, the refrain is: Just put on put on put on your best shoes/and strut the f**k around like you’ve got nothing to lose. The album closes with a simple, yet powerful request in “Set Me Free:" If you ever loved me/you will do this one last thing/set me free.

Maines, Maguire and Strayer sound better than ever, both vocally and as musicians. It seems that with age and experience - both encouraging and challenging - has come a self-assurance that reverberates from their vocal chords and lends their voices a rich, lived-in quality. No longer chasing what records companies may have told them in the past was important, rather, writing their own rules. The Chicks are here to stay, on their own terms. 

Oh, bollocks!

Taskmaster must be on record as the most unique concept for visual entertainment known to man. Even bizarre programs such as Joe Millionaire and Naked and Afraid play on the innate human desires for companionship and survival. Taskmaster, a British game show, plays on…What? I truly don’t know. The guest panel is made up of five comedians who are asked to complete a series of seemingly simple but surprisingly difficult tasks. Hilarity, paired with the innate and unique joy inherent in British humor, ensues. 

The prize task opens the show. All of the contestants are asked to bring an item most symbolic of the provided category. The prize prompts range from trendiest item of clothing to most attractive relative. The show then proceeds to pre-taped segments full of absolutely absurd and hilarious tasks. Some of the highlights: find out an old man’s occupation by asking him questions to which he can only reply falsely, fill an egg cup with sweat, make the most exotic sandwich. For the final task of the show, the comedians head onto the stage for a live task. The winner of the episode is awarded all of the contributions from the prize task. Each series includes several episodes, for which the panel remains the same, until an overall victor is declared.

The fun comes in the interpretation, the surprises and the judging. Some of the comedians approach tasks with logic, carefully reading the guidelines to their advantage. For instance, just because the comedian themselves cannot touch the ground does not prohibit them from requesting someone else carry them from point A to point B. Other comedians do not make that leap and take the task at face value. Surprise, immediate follow up tasks create some of the most fun moments. Take, as an example, the exotic sandwich task. Immediately following the creation of their exotic sandwich, the comedians are handed the next task, which is revealed to be…eat your exotic sandwich. Savory, sweet, large, small, technically edible but perhaps not very appealing, the comedians forge ahead to eat as much of their sandwich as they can. Then there’s the judging. At times based on typical measures such as time, weight or volume, the judging is just as frequently subjective. The comedians are at the mercy of the Taskmaster’s opinion. In the previously referenced exotic sandwich task, a comedian may have eaten their entire sandwich, but if the Taskmaster did not find the sandwich to be as exotic as another, fewer points will be rewarded.

Horne measures success.

To the people! The Taskmaster himself is Greg Davies, distributor of points and pointed barbs. Overseeing the tasks themselves and recording the judging is Alex Horne, also the creator of the show. The subjectivity in judging makes Horne the Pam Beasley on Beach Day - though to be fair, Davies rewards points in the same unit so a conversion chart for points, gold stars and thumbs-up is not necessary.  The comedians are not well known in the US, but presumably have some fame in the UK. They are all quite delightful. So far, Series 2, 3 and 4 feature the best mix of comedian contestants. Mel Giedroyc, of Great British Baking Show’s Mel and Sue, is quite plainly an absolute hoot and probably sits atop my list of best contestants. Some other favorites include Jon Richardson, Al Murray, Rob Beckett, Lolly Adefope and Nish Kumar.

On the surface, these comedians sign up for ridicule and Davies takes great pleasure in doling out criticism, but the insane amount of fun that every single one of the participants is having precludes any of the nastiness often found in insult comedy. And throughout it all, winning is very clearly not the point. For goodness sakes a gilded trophy of Davies’ head is the final series “prize.” I sense a larger purpose afoot: to recognize the ridiculousness of the task at hand and simply have fun. A better metaphor for life I’ve not yet found. In reality, I suspect the Taskmaster’s response to such a heady notion would be, “Bloody hell, we just want to make fun of these stupid people.” Whatever the purpose, or lack thereof, sign me up. 

In The Beginning

In times of stress, it is quite common to seek out comfort. For me, comfort comes in the repetition of favorite TV series. I have nearly worn out the tape on The Great British Baking Show and Gilmore Girls – ‘tape’ is old school lingo for Netflix button. Typically, the comfort “food” is balanced with a healthy portion of new content – for me, primarily on stage. Alas, seeing live productions is, temporarily, not likely.

In seeking out new content during the ‘Rona, there are hits and misses. Have you tried to watch Floor is Lava? No? Don’t bother. Not even Jesus could help that trio of ministers win or make that “game show” worth watching. Athlete A is worth a watch. It seems Netflix programmers run the gamut from completely awful to quite commendable. All that to say, if anything good has come out of the global pandemic and subsequent shutdowns it is that theater companies, performers and producers have made the leap to streaming content, both original and previously filmed. Some of the group sings are incredibly fun – please watch the Hairspray “You Can’t Stop the Beat” video – but there is also a push to release or make available for free filmed stage performances of plays and musicals.

As much as I want to love Andrew Lloyd Webber’s canon and applaud him for streaming his content for the masses, I was much more excited to learn that Lincoln Center Theater’s production of Act One would be made available for streaming a couple of weeks ago. James Lapine wrote and directed the stage adaptation of Moss Hart’s Broadway memoir. While the production did not blow me away, I recognize that it is simply impossible to replicate the immediacy of live performance with a filmed version. In fact, reviewing a live production based on only a filmed version is really not fair. I  will say, I did not fall asleep, or even doze off, while it was on; that’s high praise coming from a person who nodded off and awoke at intermission of the big, lavish tour of Hello, Dolly! last spring. Watching Act One on screen made me wish I had seen Tony Shalhoub and Santino Fontana (both portraying Hart at different stages of life) live on stage. Hart’s desperate longing for a life in theater, his restlessness while striving to get there and the reality once he did was written all over their faces. One can only imagine the energy of their live performances.

Watching Act One made me long for the days of  joining the masses to shuffle into the theater, contorting your body when someone is seated inside the row but arrived late and experiencing a show collectively, a show that because it’s live and anything can happen will never happen just like that, for you, ever again. Every trip to the theater is unique and special. Watching the production spurred me to finally pick up the book, purchased in January in New York City just before the scales began to tip. Not even halfway through I have discovered the passage that, to me, explains perfectly the fact that theater almost literally captures an audience, be it the audience sitting in their seats waiting for the curtain to go up or an audience of its own makers and creators, and then refuses to let go. Hart writes,

“It is noticeable, I think, that anyone who has tasted the heady wine of the theatre, even on its merest fringes or in the most menial of jobs, is cut off from the outside world forever after. The world of the theatre is as closed a tribe and as removed from other civilian worlds as a Gypsy encampment, and those who enter it are spoiled for anything else and are tainted with its insidious lure for the rest of their lives.”

Sounds of Summer

Most movies about teenagers on summer vacation focus on two things: drinking booze and hooking up. But The Way Way Back is not most movies. Released in 2013, The Way Way Back provided a breath of fresh air in a season typically overcrowded with superheroes. And even now, seven years later, it is the perfect movie to kick off the first official weekend of summer.

Liam James stars as Duncan, forced to spend the summer on the coast with his mom, her pompous boyfriend and his daughter. Innocence practically oozes out of Duncan’s pores. The first scene immediately puts the audience on his side. On the way to the house, Trent, the aforementioned boyfriend, asks Duncan (relegated to the back of the station wagon) to rate himself. Duncan, feeling forced to respond, answers with, ‘6.’ Trent disagrees, says he would rate Duncan a 3. That Trent is seemingly unaware of the cruelty in his conversation adds to the frustration and heartbreak. Unexpectedly, a job at Water Wizz Water Park gives Duncan the strength he had all along, the strength to discover and become his own person. Written and directed by Nat Faxon and Jim Rash, The Way Way Back overflows with sharp wit and a quiet wisdom.

The lead cast features Toni Collette as Pam, Duncan’s mom, and Steve Carell as her boyfriend Trent. Both are pitch perfect. Pam is nursing wounds from a prior marriage and desperately wants to find stability with Trent, so much so that she may be ignoring what is right in front of her. Collette perfectly balances Pam's uncertainty with an inner strength that is yet to be discovered. Carell makes another argument that portraying the evolution of The Office's Michael Scott from bumbling, insensitive idiot to kind, loving human was only the tip of his acting iceberg. 

Rounding out the cast are national treasures Allison Janney, who steals every scene she is in, and Sam Rockwell as Owen, who sees something of himself in Duncan. Owen, whose exact role (besides director of sarcasm) at Water Wizz is unclear, is lazy and sarcastic on the outside, but on the inside beats a heart of gold. Owen's genuine care for Duncan’s well-being makes me want to have him as my friend who can drive. Rockwell's performance is a standout.

One of the reasons The Way Way Back is the perfect summer movie is that the music – spot on at every turn – infuses the movie with the warmth of the summer sun. From the mellow strumming of Edie Brickell to the raucous “Recess” from Eli “Paperboy” Reed, the music feels intentional, but not overbearingly so. It simply fits. In every case, even when the choice is silence – as in the tense first scene – the music, or lack thereof, underscores the tone of the scene and the personality of the characters.

The final scene takes us full circle.  It ends where it began, in the way back of the station wagon. But this time, to his surprise, Duncan is not alone. No words are exchanged between mother and son, but the expression on Collette’s face and the look in her eyes speaks volumes. Start your summer off right with The Way Way Back, one of the best examples of a summer movie with humor, heartache and hope. 

The Kitch Lit Series: Visual Edition

The current season of Top Chef is one of its’ best yet. The Los Angeles-based season is only the second true All-Stars edition. Former contestants have been brought back now and again but a true All-Stars season has not been filmed since season eight – almost ten years ago now – when Richard Blais earned his redemption. 

Top Chef has seen its’ fair share of ups and downs (I’m looking at you, Top Chef Texas) but deserves praise for changing and adapting the formula in an age when being good is not good enough. Introducing components such as Last Chance Kitchen completely changed the game; the chance for an eliminated chef to earn a spot back in the game adds a level of anxiety for the remaining chefs and the audience watching at home.

This All-Star season features contestants that were eliminated too soon, eliminated for a good dish among great ones or who made it to the finals but just missed out on the title. Gregory Gourdet, Melissa King, Bryan Voltaggio and Jennifer Carroll are just four of the returning chefs that left their mark on their own season but went home without the title. The mix of chefs this season is nearly perfect. Different styles, different cuisines but all share a genuine respect for their craft, the ingredients and each other. Catty, accusatory quarrels are nowhere to be found. 

The other highlight of this season is the incredible caliber of the challenges. An early episode featured a tour of Jonathan Gold’s favorite LA restaurants and the corresponding elimination challenge asked chefs to pay homage to those restaurants and Gold’s favorite dishes. The Kaiseki challenge with guest judges Niki and Carole Lidi-Nakayama of famed restaurant n/naka was a fascinating exercise in restraint and precision, with varying levels of success. The very next episode included a trip to Michael’s Santa Monica, a restaurant whose pedigree includes the likes of Jonathan Waxman, Roy Yamaguchi, Mark Peel and Top Chef winner Brooke Williamson. Oh, and you must recreate, update and put your own stamp on a signature dish originally created by those renowned chefs during their MSM tenure… and then serve it to that chef. No pressure. 

With just a few episodes left, the finalists are off to Italy for the finals. I can honestly say I would be happy to see any of the finalists take the title. The quality of the show, seventeen seasons in, gives me hope that Top Chef will live on for years to come. One thing is for sure, you know where to find me Thursdays at 9:00pm.

The Kitch Lit Series: Periodical Edition

Hop in that Delorian, it’s time to travel back in time. Pre-global pandemic, pre-2008 financial crisis, back to a time when the President of the United States, while, yes, a doofus, did not scare the absolute shit out of me. And, back to a time when Gourmet magazine was near the top of the publishing world. 

Reading Gourmet magazine is even more of a time warp now since it harkens back to a time when we could gather at a restaurant, faces uncovered and free to share the pleasure of waiting for a meal to appear, almost as if by magic, on the table in front of you. Gourmet is a reminder that at one time producing quality long-form content was a thing to be achieved rather than traded for social media likes - though not for much longer. Issues of Gourmet share the phone numbers for the restaurants and purveyors about which they write. Phone numbers, people, not websites.

My curiosity with Gourmet stems from my appreciation for Ruth Reichl’s writing and, it so happens, her illustrious career included ten years as Gourmet’s Editor in Chief. Off to Ebay, where garbage goes to change hands. My order of 12 issues from throughout Reichl’s reign as Editor arrived in my mailbox a few weeks ago, and though I have yet to devour every single issue, I am quite pleased that I bid on that auction.

Gourmet – in the Reichl years – nicely balances what seems to be appeal to the uber-wealthy and the home chef. Because of my fascination with the restaurant industry, I loved the 50 best restaurants issue, but I read it acknowledging that financial barriers (which beget proximity barriers) will likely prevent me from ever stepping foot in any of them. 

My first trip to New York City included, by happenstance, a morning walk by Le Bernardin. Looking at the clean lines of the signage, and the calm  of an empty restaurant before a busy night of service, it was not that I felt unwelcome. Rather, it was clear that given my middle-class upbringing and proclivity for penny-pinching, I would feel so out of my element dining in the restaurant so as to not be able to enjoy myself. Gourmet gives off the same air. I do not find fault in that. I binge HGTV knowing that I will never live in a multi-million dollar home. 

I was pleased to find that Gourmet includes recipes that do not feel completely out of reach for a person with modest skills and resources. I even pulled out the recipe for Elvis’s favorite pound cake. Will I ever make it? Doubtful. But were I to set out to conquer the recipe I do believe I would be successful. 

Gourmet did not survive the dual challenges of the economic downturn of 2008 and the undeniable societal lean replace print media with social media. The last issue was published in November 2009. Luckily, the end of Gourmet was not the end for Reichl, who published her first novel in 2014. In her 2019 book Save Me the Plums, Reichl explores her tenure as Gourmet’s Editor in Chief. With insight into her methodology and the challenges she faced, reading old issues of Gourmet magazine feels anything but dated and stodgy, it is simply a glimpse into a time gone by. A time that, thanks to documentarians such as Reichl herself, reminds us that we can ensure that the best and the brightest people and practices continue to shape our future.

The Kitch Lit Series: Toast

If the saying is true, that food is life, Nigel Slater’s childhood was filled with bright spots (Butterscotch Angel Delight) and low points (dried peas). As such, his memoir, Toast, is a complex mix of whimsy and melancholy. Subtitled ‘The Story of a Boy’s Hunger,” Toast is about so much more than hunger in the physical sense. Slater, whose mother passed away when he was a child, spent the rest of his youth hungry for the warmth and care that was lost with her.

Slater readily admits that his mother was not an accomplished cook. Slater and his father pushed through the meals, usually overdone and lacking flavor. Even if the meals were not spectacular, even if she did not always enjoy their preparation, what his mother did put into every meal was love. Again, this is not to say she loved the process of preparing tea or Sunday dinner  - she rather clearly only enjoyed it on rare occasions - but she loved the people she was serving, and that is why she did it.

Broken into vignettes titled for a particular culinary adventure, Slater richly describes the food and the enjoyment of eating it. Here he describes the aforementioned Butterscotch Angel Delight: 

"Butterscotch Angel Delight was magic. Magic in the way that if you stood over it for five minutes you could actually watch the powder and milk thicken into a creamy dessert. Magic in the way it seemed to thicken further once you put it in your mouth. Magic in what seemed like a mean portion in the bowl became almost too much of a good thing in the mouth. Magic in the way that it managed to taste of both sugar and soap at the time."

When you least expect it, Slater drops in a hilarious bon mot as the last sentence in a chapter.    

Taking place in the UK during the 60s and 70s, I admit my own unfamiliarity with some of the terminology, culinary or otherwise. Though my Great British Baking Show knowledge did come in handy. Caster sugar, icing sugar, cling film. Yep, I already knew those. But it is impossible not to find familiarity in the experience of growing up: things happen around you that you do not fully understand but, at the same time, you understand that change is likely afoot. 

Ending shortly after Slater’s days in university, Toast definitely left me hungry for more. The reader can't help but hope that as Slater continued to grow and mature, that his hunger – both literal and metaphorical – was satisfied. 

Such A Good Read

Before I dive back into Kitch Lit, allow me to take a moment to implore you to read Kiley Reid’s Such a Fun Age. Reid’s debut novel centers on two women: Emira and Alix. Emira is a young black woman struggling to make ends meet and closing the gap by babysitting for an affluent white family. Alix is the matriarch of said family. Unbeknownst to the two of them, the women share a connection that threatens both their professional and personal relationships.

Such a Fun Age opens with Emira and toddler Briar at the grocery store late at night – at the request of Briar’s parents who request Emira take Briar while they talk to the police about vandalism at their home. A fellow shopper suspects Briar may have been taken against her will and alerts store security. Another shopper films the interaction between Emira and the security guard until Briar’s father rushes to the store to resolve the situation. Emira is ready to quickly move on from the encounter, but the incident in the grocery store was simply the rock breaking the surface of the water. The ripples will continue to disrupt the calmness of the water for a long time to come.

Reid beautifully develops each character and grants them a level of attention such that, though we glimpse only a small period of time in their lives, it is impossible not to genuinely care for every one of them. Emira feels a sense of shame that, as a 26 year-old college graduate, she is babysitting, but at the same time, she loves caring for Briar. Briar is experiencing the world for the first time and Emira gets to shape Briar’s worldview and experience those firsts all over again. Briar has no preconceived notions of race or privilege. Briar speaks the language of love and only knows the sincere care Emira shows her. Alix, on the other hand, has grown up in a post-Civil Rights America, a witness to the progress and aware of the work yet to be done. Alix soon makes it her mission to develop a stronger bond with Emira. Working on bringing Emira closer, Alix invites Emira and her boyfriend to Thanksgiving at their house, and it is at that meal that the unknown connection between the two of them is revealed.

There are countless ways to address race and class in America through contemporary fiction. Reid’s microcosm of the contemporary black female experience may be just one example, but it is illustrative of a multitude of experiences. Such a Fun Age is wholly contemporary. It is a novel born of the age of social media, privilege, economic divides and the Black Lives Matter movement. At the same time, Such a Fun Age touches on realities that have been present in American society since the beginning. Such a Fun Age is a highly enjoyable read. I am forever thankful that the book was released in the winter instead of in the summer, for I fear it would have ended up in the "beach reads" section. Because don’t be fooled, Reid’s sharp wit and perfect plotting might make it feel like a breezy read, but Such a Fun Age is one of the smartest, most thought-provoking novels to come along in quite a while. 

An (Im)Perfect Match

Josh and Hazel’s Guide to Not Dating is the best book about dating I’ve read in quite some time. This is likely because the main characters, as the title suggests, do not date. Rather, each seemingly content in their friendship sets the other up with a series of – surprise! – unsuccessful blind dates. 

While researching Christina Lauren, I was surprised to learn that Lauren is the pen name for writing duo Christina Hobbs and Lauren Billings. This dynamic duo has clearly found their singular voice. Great minds think alike as it were. I’ve since read a few other Christina Laurens and will no doubt read their entire bibliography. Their characters are relatable in their imperfection. Each has wants and desires but must balance those hopes with the inevitable fear of failure.

Some readers may see Hazel’s quirkiness as over the top, exaggerated for effect. But as someone who converses in heavy-handed sarcasm, a plethora of movie and TV quotes and who rarely finds reason to be anyone other than exactly who I am, Hazel was a breath of fresh air. And Josh, well, he seems pretty perfect at first glance, but he carries emotional baggage and familial pressures with him everywhere he goes. The inevitable happy ending is evident from the first chapter, but the predictability does not diminish the enjoyment of the journey. 

We All Come From Away

The fact that digesting Come From Away is a challenge I have been working through for six weeks is a testament to the complexity and brilliance that is Come From Away. On its’ face, the story is a relatively simple, if surprising, one for a musical: in the aftermath of the September 11^th attacks, dozens of planes were diverted to Newfoundland and the town of Gander welcomes the grounded “plane people.” Do not be fooled. What Irene Sankoff and David Hein managed to pack into this 100 minute musical is nothing short of remarkable. 

Come From Away has successfully shaken the “musical about 9/11” baggage. And, after seeing the show, it’s easy to see why. While the attacks of September 11^th serve as the impetus for the interaction of these characters, the show is definitively not about 9/11. Come From Away is about the heart and humanity that lives within all of us and the fact that challenges often bring out the best in us. Sankoff and Hein could have hovered near the surface of the inevitable language barriers and culture clashes, but they dove in. Touching on diversity, inclusivity, politics and religion with genuine humor and even more heart, Sankoff and Hein have designed one of the most unique musicals in recent history.

Critical to the success of any show is the music and Sankoff and Hein’s music and lyrics are refreshing. Using the customary Newfoundland sound, the songs are at once traditional and yet revolutionary for a Broadway musical. My obsession with “Me and the Sky” and “Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere” shows no sign of abating. “Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere” is particularly poetic. With uplifting lyrics, a couple of incredible belts from Capt. Bass and a chorus sung by the entire company, it’s impossible not to feel almost physically elevated off the ground:

    Somewhere in between the pace of life and work and where you're going 

something makes you stop and notice and you're finally in the moment! 

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, 

in the middle of who knows 

where (who knows where), there you'll find

Something in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of clear blue air

You found your heart, but left a part of you behind

If the sound of Come From Away is powerful, equally as strong is the set and the choreography between and among the cast and the set. With just a couple of tables and some chairs, the set acts as a multitude of locations: school, airplane, Tim Horton’s and the Dover Fault to name a few. The set transitions happen at the hands of the cast members and each movement is choreographed to the nanosecond. There are moments wherein a delay would result in a fellow cast member face first on the stage but, fear not, the touring cast is up to the challenge.

Just as the set functions for a myriad of locations, all actors portray multiple characters. The adeptness required to become a completely different character with a quick, on stage wardrobe change and then switch back moments later cannot be underestimated. And while Come From Away is perhaps the most true ensemble musical to come along in many years, each performer has moments to shine, and shine they do. But rather than shine above their fellow actors, as sometimes happens during solo passages, each actor seems to bring about a brightening of the entire stage. Come From Away is a small cast – just twelve actors - but because they represent 15,000 people, a certain strength is required. When the full cast sings together, the melody and harmony fills the theater and practically bursts through the ceiling. 

There is one lyric in particular that seems to sum up the show itself: Whether you come from Toledo or you come from Taipei because we all come from everywhere, we all come from away. It perfectly underscores the theme of Come From Away. When we put aside what makes us different we recognize what was true all along, that we are all one human race. 

Please Sir, I Want Some More

The stars aligned this month: I was able to see fourteen live shows. From lectures and television tapings to stand up comedy and Broadway shows, I hit just about all of the genres. Yes, I fully recognize that I am incredibly lucky. Exhaustion as a result of seeing so many shows is the very definition of a first world problem. Rather than select just one show about which to write, I decided to succinctly recap each one. Like a tweet, only not, because I don’t tweet. Though I’ve heard the young’uns are moving on to some new-fangled business called TikTok.

The Radio City Christmas Spectacular – High kicks. Live camels. Baby Jesus and Santa Claus? Yes, yes indeed.

Tootsie – Santino Fontana won the Tony Award for this role and there is simply no argument against it. 

The Late Show with Stephen Colbert – Colbert seems to genuinely appreciate his audience, taking the time to address them and answer a few questions. He clearly enjoys his job and he has a comfort level that is reassuring. 

The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon – Fallon, not so much. I love SNL-era Jimmy Fallon, but I have yet to get on board with his Tonight Show hosting gig and this did not convince me. His complete lack of interaction with the audience left me pining for Stephen.

Hadestown – While not drawn to tears as the person behind me was, I nonetheless enjoyed the show from soup to nuts. The effect of the set ostensibly coming apart at the seams is incredible. 

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Parts One and Two – Truly theater magic. Magic wands, flying dementors, time travel, I do not know how they do it.

Kathleen Madigan – Pointing out life's absurdities with dry humor and quick wit. What's not to like?

Jesus Christ Superstar – I grew up not so much in a God-fearing household as in a God as fodder for sarcasm household, so I am not familiar with the details of the storyline (other than the end). To say I did not follow the plot is an understatement. King Herod stole the show. Is the Bible full of big, drag-style musical numbers? Maybe I should give it a look. 

National Geographic Live with Dr. Kara Cooney – Say what? King Tut’s tomb may have been first created for a female king? 

Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me – What a shame that the almost two and a half hours of pure comic genius has to be edited down to a little less than an hour to air on NPR. Solid gold panelists Paula Poundstone and Mo Rocca did not disappoint and Negin Farsad held her own - pooping without notification is now a permanent part of my everyday language.

Trampled by Turtles – This show revealed my age: when the music started my first reaction was that it was too loud. Trampled are incredibly talented musicians. Almost all of the songs in their set had a driving momentum that did not allow for any moments of peace - the fact that they play that fast for that long is rather unbelievable.. What’s that? Oh, just my younger self calling me, wanting to know why peace is necessary at a concert. Just you wait, younger self.

The Office Musical Parody – Any show that parodies a classic comedy must be absolutely spot on, this was not.

Come From Away – Sweeps you off your feet, takes you to a place far away and gently sets you back down, the same person but changed. Full review coming soon.