Christmas At The Movies

'Tis the season to enjoy a slew of Christmas-themed movies. Hallmark has become a holiday juggernaut with their singular brand of schlocky but watchable TV movies. I kid you not, the plot of one movie on the schedule today included the phrase "plans to buy her own plane are thwarted when she inherits a reindeer farm." As compelling as that description is, much better Christmas movies have hit theaters in the pas few decades. Here are some of the best. 

Best Christmas Movie That is Not Actually About Christmas: Home Alone. A childhood fantasy: left alone, eating pizza and ice cream, jumping on the bed. But Kevin McCallister grows up quickly when he realizes the Wet Bandits are out to rob their family’s suburban Chicago McMansion. It's his house. He has to defend it. The foley artist should have won an award for the sound of Marv tumbling down the icy steps. 

Best Christmas Movie That is Not A Movie: Peter, Paul and Mary, the Holiday Concert. A tradition if there ever was one. The concert features a range of holiday songs (“Light One Candle” and “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” among them) and classic folk tunes. Every year when I rewatch this, I dream of sitting down with Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Peter, Paul and Mary for lively conversation and figgy pudding.

Best Overall Christmas Movie: Miracle on 34^th Street, 1994. Richard Attenborough is the perfect Santa. Elizabeth Perkins and Dylan McDermott are the perfect couple. And Mara Wilson is the cutest adult in a little kid’s body. She’s “trying to limit her intake of sugar.” Something a child has never said. 

Best Christmas Movie That Instills Jealousy: The Santa Claus. Your dad is Santa. You get to ride in the sleigh to deliver presents, with a puppy in your lap? Sign me up. What happened to the technology that that can manufacture something that looks like an ordinary CD player but is actually a cookie dispenser? Let's get our best minds on that. CD's are a thing of the past anyway. Might as well have them spit out cookies.

Best 'Just Go With It' Christmas Movie: Love Actually. Is the plausibility questionable? Sure. Are a few of the dozens of interconnected storylines just filler? Yes. But it doesn’t matter. As popular as Love Actually is, it should be given more credit for featuring a few incredibly understated performances. Emma Thompson, Alan Rickman and Bill Nighy to name a few. Hugh Grant dances to The Pointer Sisters, just get on board.

Best Underrated  Christmas Movie: The Family Stone. This ensemble dramedy was mostly passed over when it was released but it remains a must watch in my book. The slow reveal of Diane Keaton’s heartbreaking performance and the unraveling of Dermot Mulroney and Sarah Jessica Parker’s forced relationship is told with both humor and heart. No family is perfect, the Stone family reminds us of that.

Best You May Not Have Seen This Christmas Movie But You Should: Prancer. A young girl discovers an injured reindeer in the woods and is convinced that he belongs to Santa. Convincing others is not as easy. Cloris Leachman plays the grouchy neighbor. She spooked me but I loved it.

On Relevance

My connection to Peter, Paul and Mary goes back as far as I can remember – er, almost remember. We all have a few very distinct childhood memories that are not actually our memories. Rather, we have heard the story so many times that we convince ourselves that we do, in fact, remember the moment. One of mine is a Peter, Paul and Mary memory. At the end of a concert in 1990, Mary blew me a kiss goodnight. How I wish I could actually remember that moment. I was pretty tuckered out. I had been sleeping (my earliest experience with theater snoozies) and I don’t remember the kiss. But I do have a memory of the days and weeks following the concert. I wanted to be Mary Travers. I distinctly recall belting “Leaving On A Jet Plane” out in the backyard. Probably not fully understanding the lyrics, but understanding just enough to feel the power of the song. 

Fast forward to my college years and a very specific thought popped into my head, “I am definitely the only person in this lecture hall getting pumped for the Zoology 100 final by listening to Peter, Paul and Mary on my iPod.” Those other kids did not know what they were missing. 

Though I was not around for their peak in the 1960’s, I was lucky enough to grow up listening to their music and attending their concerts. It will not surprise you that I literally jumped at the chance to see Peter Yarrow and Noel Paul Stookey perform together at Hoyt Sherman Place. In fact, I arrived so early at Hoyt Sherman to buy tickets that the employee thought I was there for a meeting with a department head. 

Yarrow and Stookey, both 80 years old, may not be the baby-faced youngsters they were in the early 60s when they broke onto the Greenwich Village scene, but even with less hair on their heads they can still sing, play the guitar and command the attention of a sold out crowd. The concert, filled with their biggest hits, was truly a celebration. 

The energy in the theater was palpable from the very first strains of "Weave Me the Sunshine." When again will we have the opportunity to come together to celebrate and carry on the legacy of Peter, Paul and Mary and share our appreciation for them in person? The concert may have had some rambling interludes and the stage just didn’t feel quite whole without Travers’ powerful alto but the concert was a much-needed confirmation of the importance of music as an agent of change. Songs such as “Deportee,” “This Land is Your Land” and “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” feel equally appropriate as a glimpse into the past as they do a call for a brighter future. These songs should be songs of times gone by, but, instead, they are almost more relevant today. Joining with 1,200 people on that rainy December evening to accompany Yarrow and Stookey on “Leaving On A Jet Plane” and “If I Had a Hammer” was life affirming. Folk music reminds us that no matter how different we are, we share more than we realize. We can grow, we can change, we can make the world a better place. Music will bring us together and show us the way.

A Kitch Lit Series Tangent: Literary Lit

Robin Sloan is my current literary hero. Sloan’s writing style is all his own and I love it. The Kitch Lit Series recently featured Robin Sloan’s Sourdough, an entirely unique book that surprises and delights. After finishing Sourdough I eagerly devoured his debut novel Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore. Mr. Penumbra’s is a book about the intersection of technology and the written word. And even though Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore is not kitch lit, I had to write about it. My plea to read it will be brief because to reveal too much would be to ruin the pleasure of watching the story unfold.

Clay Jannon’s marketing job at yuppie bagel company NewBagel does not survive the recession and Clay finds himself poring over the classifieds. It turns out, “in a recession, people want good old-fashioned bubbly oblong bagels, not smooth alien-spaceship bagels.” When he happens upon Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore, with a help wanted sign in the window, Clay is more than a little suspicious. But he is also curious. When Clay passes Mr. Penumbra’s not so subtle personality test, he is soon working the overnight shift. Mr. Penumbra has some very specific requirements for his employees. He requests Clay document the appearance and attitude of all customers. And when Clay notices that customers do not pay for the books, rather, they check them out, he begins to wonder about the story happening amongst people and the books in the bookstore. Who are these customers? Are they connected? Clay is determined to find out.

A colorful cast of characters surrounds Clay and populate what becomes an adventure to use science and technology to unlock the mystery of the bookstore. His artist friend and roommate Mat, who works at Industrial Light and Magic by day, spends his downtime constructing Matropolis, a sort of mini-city, throughout their rental. And then there’s Kat, Clay’s love interest and an over-achiever at Google, who has a penchant for the notion of immortality. And Neel, Clay’s childhood friend, who made his fortune creating a digital technology for the design of women’s breasts in video games, is still attracted to adventures and now has deep pockets to fund them. They are a motley crew, joined together with a common purpose. Not to mention Mr. Penumbra himself, an older man who carries himself with an air of both mystery and certainty. 

These characters become real because Sloan’s writing style has a vibrant, energetic quality. The dialogue is realistic. That is, if all of us had an extensive vocabulary and a penchant for artfully structured sentences. The story never lags. Exposition and descriptive passages can often feel burdened by the need to explain and move the plot forward, but in Sloan’s deft hands the story leaps from the pages. This is the first passage in the book:

                           Lost in the shadows of the shelves, I almost fall off the ladder. I am exactly halfway up. 

                           The floor of the bookstore is far below me, the surface of a planet I’ve left behind. The 

                           tops of the shelves look high above, and it’s dark up there – the books are packed in                                   close, and they don’t let any light through. The air might be thinner, too. I think
                           I see a bat. 

                          I am holding on for dear life, one hand on the ladder, the other on the lip of a shelf,                                     fingers pressed white. My eyes trace a line above my knuckles, search the spines                                         – and there, I spot it. The book I’m looking for. 

                          But let me back up.

The image Sloan creates is crisp, but it still allows the reader freedom to use his or her own imagination. The anticipation of discovery is palpable. It is impossible not to continue reading.  

Sloan skillfully crafts tales with intriguing characters, a plot that twists in all the right ways, and prose that reads so easily it belies the expertise between the lines. Read it.

Rule of Feminism #1: See Mean Girls

When Mean Girls was released in 2004, audiences and critics alike greeted it as a fresh entry in the genre of teen comedies. Sitting in the movie theater with my dad and my brother I very distinctly remember two things. One, Mean Girls is not really the kind of movie you go to with your dad or brother and, two, thank goodness my high school experience bared no resemblance to the one portrayed in Tina Fey’s hit comedy. Now on Broadway, and 10+ years later, I still thank goodness that if anything remotely similar was happening at my high school, I was in a very comfortable band geek bubble and had no awareness of it.

Mean Girls entered the Broadway landscape last year and a slew of Tony Award nominations followed. While Tony night was not generous to the show, it is going strong on Broadway and, after seeing it on Halloween a couple of weeks ago (thanks for the mouse ears!) it is apparent why audiences continue to pack the August Wilson Theatre. Mean Girls has only a few counterparts on a Great White Way packed with wizards, witches, Phantoms and Lion Kings, and there is something truly refreshing about a present day comedy. With a strong book, catchy songs and a message that bears repeating, Mean Girls will likely continue to rule the school.

For the few uninitiated, Mean Girls tells the story of Cady, a previously homeschooled teen navigating high school for the first time.  Cady first meets Janis and Damien, who march to the beat of their own drummer, and she can confidently confirm for her parents that, yes, she made friends today. But when the Plastics, led by resident mean girl Regina George, latch onto naïve Cady, she finds herself in uncharted territory, dealing with passive aggressive put downs and infighting. Cady's whirlwind journey from new kid, to insensitive Plastic and back to respectable human being strikes a balance between humor and heart.

Adapting a hit film for the stage is surely not an easy task, mostly because it begs comparison. Fey’s work on the book of the musical leaves most of the beloved lines from the film intact – how can you not, Glen Coco? – but the musical manages to gain independence from the film. What makes the stage venture unique? It is now set in the present day, the age of social media. When the film was released, Facebook was barely more than an idea in Mark Zuckerberg’s head - er, those twins played by Armie Hammer in The Social Network - and cell phones were still mostly used only for emergencies. I had a calling card my first year of college. Google that if you’ve never heard of one. As technological advances make communication simpler and faster, does it make us better as a human race? Mean Girls makes a pretty compelling argument that it does not. Nasty rumors, backstabbing and spreading rumors is easier than ever and self-worth is measured in social media followers rather than actual human connection. The song “Stop” sums it up: when you are compelled to jump online to “over share, troll or meme” just stop. 

“Stop” is one of many expressive, catchy pop songs crafted by Nell Benjamin and Jeff Richmond that expertly lend themselves to Mean Girls and fit perfectly with the tone of their respective scenes. Songs such as “Stupid With Love” and “Revenge Party” have a bubblegum vibe despite their exploration of difficult emotions. In contrast, “I’d Rather Be Me” is an anthem to self-confidence and has enough gusto to invite fist bumps and head bobs of solidarity. The use of catchy pop is smart. The complex themes are easy to digest when wrapped in such a fun package.

Most of the original Broadway cast is still performing in the show and across the board the singing, dancing and acting is strong. As Cady, Erika Henningsen has the somewhat daunting task of making the moral compass standout amongst a landscape of very loud – in all meanings of the word – characters but she is up to the task. Ashley Park’s Gretchen Wieners is a standout. Her portrayal of someone who knows the manipulation that Regina is inflicting upon her but cannot help but strive for that attention and approval is hilarious and heartbreaking. As Janis and Damien, Barrett Wilbert Weed and Grey Henson get to have the most fun with two characters whose sarcasm is worn as a badge of honor. And Wilbert Weed brings down the house with “I’d Rather Be Me.” Let us not forget the ensemble, some of whom play both male and female characters as the scene requires. They are a singing, dancing, set-rolling machine. Their flawless execution of the choreography of the set pieces is almost as impressive as the actual dance steps.  

The positive message in Mean Girls is heralded loud and clear. There is no subtlety here. But because of the importance of the message, I wholeheartedly support spreading it loud and clear. Social media is not a substitute for human interaction and cutting others down on social media, in person or through other people does not build you up. In fact, the opposite is true. Genuine concern for other people? How sad that it comes across as such a novel idea in this day and age. If you find yourself in New York City, or if Mean Girls stops in your hometown, make it a point to meet the Plastics.

Tip Top Tap

When asked to picture a dance company, the first image that comes to mind is most likely pointe shoes and pink tutus, but the world of dance continues to evolve. Pushed forward by dancers and choreographers such as Alvin Ailey and Alonzo King and companies such as MOMIX, dance is on the cusp of becoming mainstream. Dorrance Dance will surely help propel the art form into the 21^st century. Their performance  of ETM: Double Down in Omaha this week was nothing less than spectacular. With a unique style supported by not only instruments but vocals as well, Dorrance Dance is irresistible.

Founded in 2011 by Michelle Dorrance, Dorrance Dance is a tap dance company based out of New York. With casual, non-matching dress, drums, piano and a stand up bass, Dorrance Dance is unlike any other dance company. Tap is the most percussive of dance styles so their use of drums is natural. They also utilize original tap “instruments” designed by Nicholas Van Young. These instruments are hard to describe. Programming allows the sounds emitted to range from melodic to percussive so that when a foot hits the board you never know what sounds might come out. Sort of a modern day piano pad. Robert Loggia and Tom Hanks would have fit right in.

This practically goes without saying, but the dancers are incredibly talented. Their legs have got to be strong enough to crush cans – and not a soda can but a good, solid can of green beans. There are times when the auditory clues make it clear that the dancers are moving their feet but it is so fast that it is nearly impossible to follow the movements with the eye. The dancers make it look easy but the opposite is true. Even during quieter, slower passages, the choreography pulses with energy. It is hard to fathom the amount of mental and physical effort it must take to recall and perform all of the different steps and combinations.

All this to say, even if you usually find it hard to connect with dance as an art form, Dorrance Dance will change your mind.

Check it out:

The Kitch Lit Series: Sweet and Sour

What a mighty break it has been since our last installment in the Kitch Lit series. Turns out that perhaps absence really does make the heart grow fonder. My first foray back into the genre, Robin Sloan’s Sourdough, took me by surprise, delightfully so. 

Simply stated, Sourdough is the story of robotics programmer Lois Clary who, after moving to San Francisco for a new job, learns the art of baking sourdough bread. 

The city of San Francisco is in for quite a challenge in trying to win over Lois, a Michigan native. Mostly, it doesn't. But how could it? Her job at General Dexterity requires long hours - employees are known to sleep at the office – and, in turn, her social circle is limited to her coworkers who eat together at the Slurry table in the cafeteria. Slurry is the Soylent Green-esque food product meant to sustain life without the hassle – or enjoyment – of cooking and eating. 

When Lois discovers Clement Street Soup and Sourdough, a most likely illegal restaurant operation run by two immigrant brothers, and her world opens up. Her order of spicy soup heals her weary soul and earn her repeated orders earn her the title of Number One Eater. When the brothers face imminent deportation, Lois, not entirely understanding her own motivation, agrees to keep their sourdough starter alive. As Lois begins to master caring for the often rebellious starter and transforming it into delicious bread she simultaneously begins a journey of self discovery.

That story may sound like, well, not much. And, before reading the first couple of chapters, I would have perhaps thought the same thing. The story lacks almost all of the usual narrative tropes that overrun the bookshelves. No romantic entanglements, family drama or treacly enlightenment. A simple, charming story unfolding enjoyably is in and of itself a treat. In Sloan’s hands, the story is elevated with a simple grace. His prose is superlative: descriptive without being too wordy, expressive without veering into the overly dramatic. Rather delightful. 

Reading Sourdough reminded me of the shear joy of reading J. Ryan Stradal’s Kitchens of the Great Midwest. I went in with no preconceived notions and was rewarded with a story and writing that took me places I did not expect – as simple as those places may be. The kicker here is that I don’t like sourdough. But for a slice of Lois’ bread I would be willing to give it another chance. 

The Land of Hope

How to describe Winfield? Never have I felt so good sitting in a pool of my own sweat.  You know it’s hot outside when beads of sweat form on the legs of a person who is completely still. Sitting at Winfield with a portable fan in my face and an umbrella doing a horrible impression of a sun blocker across my lower half listening to some of the most amazing musicians in the country can only be described as restorative. 

For those of you uninitiated, Winfield is the informal name of the Walnut Valley Festival or, simply, “the bluegrass” if you’re a local. Winfield is a 47-year strong multi-day music festival celebrating the best in bluegrass, folk, Americana, jazz and Celtic music.

My first trek to Winfield was in 2013, when my aunt finally persuaded my mom and me to join her for the weekend. No coincidence that it was the first year none of her kids were able to go with her so she really put the screws to us. While I thought I knew what to expect that first year, I quickly learned how very wrong I was. Winfield is not a little bluegrass festival. For an introvert who enjoys private bathrooms, the sheer volume of people was a bit overwhelming. But the quality of the music was undeniable. I grew up with John McCutcheon; Peter, Paul & Mary and Pete Seeger and the chance to see some of them and their fellow musicians multiple times amongst others who appreciate music has been calling me ever since.

The beating heart of Winfield is an appreciation for music, musicians and musicianship. The Walnut Valley Festival is home to the International Finger Style Guitar Championship, International Autoharp Championship and the National Mountain Dulcimer Championship. Though the autoharp and mountain dulcimer may not have reached the level of popularity that Auto-Tune has reached, the musicians who have found their calling with these instruments are some of the most talented musicians one will ever have the pleasure to encounter. We all go to Winfield to see and hear our favorites, but also to discover new musicians. My plea to the organizers: do not overlap The Steel Wheels and Socks in the Frying Pan! Many of my favorites (Socks, Steel Wheels, John McCutcheon) are featured elsewhere on my blog so I will refrain from gushing, but needless to say I could go on and on. As for new music, Molly Tuttle, The Outside Track and Opal Agafia were amazing discoveries. 

Great musicians cross genres, so what makes Winfield different? There are hundreds of successful music festivals every year but, without even attending those other festivals, I know that Winfield is better. Winfield is a community. One can amble through the campgrounds or roam around the fairgrounds and meet and reconnect with their Winfield family. Over the course of five days one will hear frequent, raucous cries of, “Happy Winfield!” And it is easier here than anywhere else to sit down next to a complete stranger, strike up a cheerful conversation before the next set begins and do the same thing an hour later with a completely different person. That sense of community, the sense that people can band together to affect change is the essence of the folk movement that took root in the 50s and 60s and is necessary again, maybe now more than ever. And when a couple thousand people join together to sing the chorus of "The Times They Are A Changin" I have hope. Winfeld gives me hope.

So even though I have yet to purchase any tie dye clothes and the idea of camping will never appeal to me (I know, I’m missing out on some of essence of Winfield when I stay in a motel) my thought as I was driving away late Saturday night was, “How could I not come back next year?”