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.