The show about tradition has become tradition. So writes Alisa Solomon in her wonderful book about the cultural history of the show Wonder of Wonders. She, along with lyricist Sheldon Harnick and original Tzeitel Joanna Merlin, participated in a spirited and fun event at CBE last night, honoring "Fiddler" and all of our relationships to it.
The event combined communal sing-a-longs, solo singing, reminiscing, and a panel featuring the three guests of honor. Cantor Josh served as MC, and you could tell how much he enjoyed getting to interact with the the panelists and leading the group singing. He even did a little "Fiddler" music theory, explaining how the return to the dominant in many of the songs is meant to invite ke the traditional cadences of the Yeshivah. At the beginning of "Tradition," which was actually the closing number of the event, he added lines about the tradition of choice at CBE, an interesting twist revealing how "Fiddler" as Judaism can become many different things depending on who's talking. I was wondering what Alisa Solomon would say about this event if she were writing a chapter about it for her book because the event celebrated the "Anatevka" of CBE as much as it celebrates "Fiddler" itself. How did Sheldon Harnick feel?
Some musical highlights: the most lovely musical selections were performed by Donna Breitzer, the cantor's wife. She sang "Far from the Home I Love" and "Do You Love Me" with Cantor Josh. They sang and acted well and were relishing every moment. The other performances, while not as musically sound, were still full of joy and commitment. A perfect performance wasn't the point and everyone was so happy to just be celebrating. Sheldon Harnick seemed satisfied.
The highlight of the conversation was hearing Alisa Solomon and Sheldon Harnick talk about a Middle school production of "Fiddler" in Brownsville in 1968. It was the middle of the crisis between the teachers union and the local Brownsville community. There was Jewish opposition to the mostly black and Hispanic 12-14 year olds doing the show for fear of anti-Semitic caricatures. From what it sounds like, Solomon and Harnick (who was at opening night and was dismayed to see police in the audotorium) both described the production as incredibly sincere and respectful; Solomon interviewed a couple of the student actors and they still speak with pride about their involvement in the show.
I would strongly recommend reading Solomon's book, which is tremendous cultural history, revealing how "Fiddler" has come to represent so much more than the creators could have imagined in 1964. Joanna Merlin even said, "we didn't even know it would be a good show!" And of course, you should revisit the show itself. Apparently it's coming back to Broadway soon, maybe even with updated dances from contemporary Israeli choreographer Hofesh Schechter (that'll be interesting!).
Friday, November 14, 2014
Monday, November 10, 2014
The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P. and Station Eleven
I went on quite the Fiction bout this week, devouring two novels in just three days. Both came at the recommendation of a respected friend, and both were excellent, even though they left a little something to be desired.
The first was Adelle Waldman's The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P., which chronicles a series of relationships between Brooklyn literary type and Harvard educated Nathaniel Piven and various women who are also part of that scene. Much of the novel felt like an extremely accurate portrait of a certain Brooklyn milieu: my favorite part was when Nathaniel went grocery shopping and bought two boxes of cereal, one healthy and one Lucky Charms (he would have the Lucky Charms as his breakfast 'dessert'). It was a book very tightly calibrated to social class distinctions and nuances, between different types of university educations (there was a hilarious conversation at a dinner party about how Lindsays seemed to populate NYU, but not Harvard or Yale), and within different Universities (gradations of coolness/connectedness at Harvard).
There's also a feminist bent to the book. Nathaniel P. claims he is sensitive to a lot of the issues brought up by modern feminism (claiming he was raised in a post-feminist household) and is definitely less outwardly misogynistic than many of his male friends, but still perpetuates plenty of sexism, most noticeably when he constantly thinks about women's appearances, even when they are engaging him in intellectual conversation. Nate definitely isn't a sexist caricature, he's a real character who shows many thoughts that conform with widely-held cultural standards. That Nate's creator is a woman should not take away from this characterization. She's writing a real human being.
What I didn't like about the book as much were its comments on the continuing gentrification of Brooklyn. That the characters rarely interacted with people of color made sense, but the constant references to decreasing numbers of white people on the subway as it went deeper into Brooklyn, to the latest new farm-to-table restaurant, to the gentrified cafe, felt kind of stale, and did not offer any fresh takes on gentrification, that hopefully an intellectual Harvard snob like Nate might actually possess. It's a minor gripe, but instead of taking me to new territory (as it did with its sharp commentary on relationships) it was mostly rehash of stuff I could read on any old Brooklyn blog.
The second book I read, Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, which also came at the recommendation of my friend's Goodreads page, has one of the most interesting premises for a book I've read in a while. A massive pandemic has wiped out most of the world's population and 20 years after the fact a group of travelling actors and musicians perform Shakespeare plays around the territory near Lakes Michigan and Huron. Their slogan is "Survival is Insufficient" (taken from Star Trek), which is a theme throughout the book.
It's about the power of art to transform and elevate, even in the most dire of circumstances. That might be a little cliched, but it feels fresh here. This is not an ugly dystopian novel where the default is that people are all cruel and murderous; no, people in this world care about each other, care about art, care about objects, care about self-affirmation just as much (if not more so) than people before the crisis.
The book operates with a series of time jumps before, during, and after the pandemic, kind of similar to A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan. It's a literary device that kept me hook. I wanted to keep reading to find out how each character was related to one another. Which ones survived the pandemic? Would they eventually reconnect? How did they come to care about the same thing/person/idea so much? Mandel really has woven together a beautiful plot. Her imagery is just as beautiful: fake snow falling on a stage, a candlelit traveling stage in rural Michigan, unoccupied planes lined up on a runway. There are more disturbing images as well: abandoned skeletons and the like, but for a post-apocalyptic novel, it is very pretty (not a bad thing!).
The one weakness here is the thinly drawn character of "The Prophet". After first hearing about him it's pretty obvious who the prophet actually is (though there isn't an official reveal until much later in the book). His is a back story we only get bits and pieces of before he becomes a cartoon villain. I understand why we only get hints at his story (to put us in the same place as his father, who didn't really know his son before he died) but then I'd rather have him be a more thickly drawn villain.
Anyway, it's a minor gripe with what was otherwise a very moving book.
The first was Adelle Waldman's The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P., which chronicles a series of relationships between Brooklyn literary type and Harvard educated Nathaniel Piven and various women who are also part of that scene. Much of the novel felt like an extremely accurate portrait of a certain Brooklyn milieu: my favorite part was when Nathaniel went grocery shopping and bought two boxes of cereal, one healthy and one Lucky Charms (he would have the Lucky Charms as his breakfast 'dessert'). It was a book very tightly calibrated to social class distinctions and nuances, between different types of university educations (there was a hilarious conversation at a dinner party about how Lindsays seemed to populate NYU, but not Harvard or Yale), and within different Universities (gradations of coolness/connectedness at Harvard).
There's also a feminist bent to the book. Nathaniel P. claims he is sensitive to a lot of the issues brought up by modern feminism (claiming he was raised in a post-feminist household) and is definitely less outwardly misogynistic than many of his male friends, but still perpetuates plenty of sexism, most noticeably when he constantly thinks about women's appearances, even when they are engaging him in intellectual conversation. Nate definitely isn't a sexist caricature, he's a real character who shows many thoughts that conform with widely-held cultural standards. That Nate's creator is a woman should not take away from this characterization. She's writing a real human being.
What I didn't like about the book as much were its comments on the continuing gentrification of Brooklyn. That the characters rarely interacted with people of color made sense, but the constant references to decreasing numbers of white people on the subway as it went deeper into Brooklyn, to the latest new farm-to-table restaurant, to the gentrified cafe, felt kind of stale, and did not offer any fresh takes on gentrification, that hopefully an intellectual Harvard snob like Nate might actually possess. It's a minor gripe, but instead of taking me to new territory (as it did with its sharp commentary on relationships) it was mostly rehash of stuff I could read on any old Brooklyn blog.
The second book I read, Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, which also came at the recommendation of my friend's Goodreads page, has one of the most interesting premises for a book I've read in a while. A massive pandemic has wiped out most of the world's population and 20 years after the fact a group of travelling actors and musicians perform Shakespeare plays around the territory near Lakes Michigan and Huron. Their slogan is "Survival is Insufficient" (taken from Star Trek), which is a theme throughout the book.
It's about the power of art to transform and elevate, even in the most dire of circumstances. That might be a little cliched, but it feels fresh here. This is not an ugly dystopian novel where the default is that people are all cruel and murderous; no, people in this world care about each other, care about art, care about objects, care about self-affirmation just as much (if not more so) than people before the crisis.
The book operates with a series of time jumps before, during, and after the pandemic, kind of similar to A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan. It's a literary device that kept me hook. I wanted to keep reading to find out how each character was related to one another. Which ones survived the pandemic? Would they eventually reconnect? How did they come to care about the same thing/person/idea so much? Mandel really has woven together a beautiful plot. Her imagery is just as beautiful: fake snow falling on a stage, a candlelit traveling stage in rural Michigan, unoccupied planes lined up on a runway. There are more disturbing images as well: abandoned skeletons and the like, but for a post-apocalyptic novel, it is very pretty (not a bad thing!).
The one weakness here is the thinly drawn character of "The Prophet". After first hearing about him it's pretty obvious who the prophet actually is (though there isn't an official reveal until much later in the book). His is a back story we only get bits and pieces of before he becomes a cartoon villain. I understand why we only get hints at his story (to put us in the same place as his father, who didn't really know his son before he died) but then I'd rather have him be a more thickly drawn villain.
Anyway, it's a minor gripe with what was otherwise a very moving book.
Saturday, November 8, 2014
The New York Festival of Light, or, how far are you willing to go to get that perfect Insta?
I read about the New York Festival of Light on the skint newsletter, which comes into my inbox every day. Occasionally I skim the skint, but hardly ever go to any of the events listed. I read about this event, but had no desire to trek down to DUMBO to see this show. After Shabbat ended, though, I got a text from my friend saying that he was interested in going. I was already out for the evening, in the East Village, which was close enough to DUMBO. My sister and cousin decided to come too.
We should have realized something was up when we got on an extremely crowded F train at Delancey Street (we walked from our East Village Ukrainian restaurant, which is one of the strangest places I've ever been to in New York: you don't enter directly into the restaurant from the street, you have to walk down a suburban strip mall-like corridor with horrible tile and fluorescent lighting first; the restaurant itself feels like a European lodge, covered in wood and decorated a little like Grandma-from-the-old-country's house with bowls and prints hanging on the walls). Usually on a Saturday night that stop is pretty hopping, but barely anyone got off the train. It turned out that everyone (including us) intended to get off two stops later, at York Street in DUMBO, close to the light show.
Now the York St. subway station has to be one of the most poorly designed stations in the system. There is only one exit, and to reach it, you have to go up a long, inclining corridor. Then comes the exit, then the stairs to the surface. There was probably the equivalent of two entire subway trains of people trying to exit all at once. The crowd moved in an orderly way, but if even one little thing had gone wrong (pushing, falling, running, etc.) things could have gotten very dangerous very fast.
After a long, slow walk to the exit we finally made it to street level and headed one block over to Pearl Street, where the event was taking place. It appeared there was a very long line (we didn't know what for), and then a more general area where people were milling about. We didn't want to wait on line for anything, especially because my friend would be meeting us soon, so we went to the general milling area. At this point, my cousin decided things were too crazy and went to a different Subway station to head home. We later heard that the York Street station would temporarily be closed because of the insane amount of traffic it was receiving.
My sister and I slowly made our way through the crowd closer to where a series of projections were being displayed on the side of the Manhattan Bridge. On our way we saw five columns of light reaching up to the sky, an interesting interactive instrument, and some black lights. They were interesting enough, but we still weren't sure what the main attraction was supposed to be. By the time we saw the projections on the side of the bridge (the coolest ones used the architecture of the bridge as a base, and then distorted it; others had racing reindeer; another, abstract imagery in black and white and color; my sister got an Instagram of that one, so I guess the whole ordeal was worth it.) we were crushed in on all sides by people. Fluid dynamics came into play; it was impossible to move unless we were in a stream of people moving in the same direction. If there was no movement, or worse, if people were moving in the opposite direction, making any progress was impossible.
Our end goal was to see what it was people were waiting in line for, which seemed to be some kind of laser show party happening underneath one of the arches of the bridge. Apparently there was also a disco ball man hanging out there. Slowly we inched our way forward, trying to stay together, and trying to stay calm. It was really hard! There was clearly not enough space for everyone, there was no organization from either event planners or police, so it was every mob member for him or herself. If someone had tripped and fallen, he or she may have been crushed! It was absolutely terrifying.
In the middle of being in this crush of people, someone came on the loudspeaker to announce that the event would be ending because there were too many people. I immediately texted my friend not to come, which I hoped he'd get while riding the subway. My sister and I were a little nervous that the crowd would turn around on us and start going the other way. Eventually though we found a stream of people moving in the direction we wanted to go in and finally made it to a clearer area.
Needless to say, we were both pretty shaken up by the experience; it was one of my scarier moments in New York. While it felt freeing to be able to stretch out our arms once there was room, it was pretty boggling that there were no pre-planned measures to ensure safety at this event. Like I said before, one wrong move and there could have been a disaster. And it wasn't just adults at this event: it was early enough in the evening that families had brought their children with them!
Alternate plans came to fruition and I ended up having a good time this evening. What the New York Festival of Light demonstrated is that word spreads like wildfire about cool-sounding events, and that crowd control is really so important at these kinds of things. It was a lesson learned for me to stay away from these kinds of events in the future and I hope for the organizers and for the NYPD to be better prepared in the future!
We should have realized something was up when we got on an extremely crowded F train at Delancey Street (we walked from our East Village Ukrainian restaurant, which is one of the strangest places I've ever been to in New York: you don't enter directly into the restaurant from the street, you have to walk down a suburban strip mall-like corridor with horrible tile and fluorescent lighting first; the restaurant itself feels like a European lodge, covered in wood and decorated a little like Grandma-from-the-old-country's house with bowls and prints hanging on the walls). Usually on a Saturday night that stop is pretty hopping, but barely anyone got off the train. It turned out that everyone (including us) intended to get off two stops later, at York Street in DUMBO, close to the light show.
Now the York St. subway station has to be one of the most poorly designed stations in the system. There is only one exit, and to reach it, you have to go up a long, inclining corridor. Then comes the exit, then the stairs to the surface. There was probably the equivalent of two entire subway trains of people trying to exit all at once. The crowd moved in an orderly way, but if even one little thing had gone wrong (pushing, falling, running, etc.) things could have gotten very dangerous very fast.
After a long, slow walk to the exit we finally made it to street level and headed one block over to Pearl Street, where the event was taking place. It appeared there was a very long line (we didn't know what for), and then a more general area where people were milling about. We didn't want to wait on line for anything, especially because my friend would be meeting us soon, so we went to the general milling area. At this point, my cousin decided things were too crazy and went to a different Subway station to head home. We later heard that the York Street station would temporarily be closed because of the insane amount of traffic it was receiving.
My sister and I slowly made our way through the crowd closer to where a series of projections were being displayed on the side of the Manhattan Bridge. On our way we saw five columns of light reaching up to the sky, an interesting interactive instrument, and some black lights. They were interesting enough, but we still weren't sure what the main attraction was supposed to be. By the time we saw the projections on the side of the bridge (the coolest ones used the architecture of the bridge as a base, and then distorted it; others had racing reindeer; another, abstract imagery in black and white and color; my sister got an Instagram of that one, so I guess the whole ordeal was worth it.) we were crushed in on all sides by people. Fluid dynamics came into play; it was impossible to move unless we were in a stream of people moving in the same direction. If there was no movement, or worse, if people were moving in the opposite direction, making any progress was impossible.
Our end goal was to see what it was people were waiting in line for, which seemed to be some kind of laser show party happening underneath one of the arches of the bridge. Apparently there was also a disco ball man hanging out there. Slowly we inched our way forward, trying to stay together, and trying to stay calm. It was really hard! There was clearly not enough space for everyone, there was no organization from either event planners or police, so it was every mob member for him or herself. If someone had tripped and fallen, he or she may have been crushed! It was absolutely terrifying.
In the middle of being in this crush of people, someone came on the loudspeaker to announce that the event would be ending because there were too many people. I immediately texted my friend not to come, which I hoped he'd get while riding the subway. My sister and I were a little nervous that the crowd would turn around on us and start going the other way. Eventually though we found a stream of people moving in the direction we wanted to go in and finally made it to a clearer area.
Needless to say, we were both pretty shaken up by the experience; it was one of my scarier moments in New York. While it felt freeing to be able to stretch out our arms once there was room, it was pretty boggling that there were no pre-planned measures to ensure safety at this event. Like I said before, one wrong move and there could have been a disaster. And it wasn't just adults at this event: it was early enough in the evening that families had brought their children with them!
Alternate plans came to fruition and I ended up having a good time this evening. What the New York Festival of Light demonstrated is that word spreads like wildfire about cool-sounding events, and that crowd control is really so important at these kinds of things. It was a lesson learned for me to stay away from these kinds of events in the future and I hope for the organizers and for the NYPD to be better prepared in the future!
Friday, November 7, 2014
Klinghoffer protests
Monday, October 20th was quite the event on New York's cultural calendar. Hundreds of protesters gathered on a traffic island across the street from Lincoln Center to speak out against the Metropolitan Opera's "Death of Klinghoffer" premiere. Not often are works of art greeted by this magnitude of protest and it was exciting to see the arts at the centerpiece of a city-wide conversation.
I first heard about "Klinghoffer" when the Met announced its 2014-15 season. I saw the title of the opera on their list of productions and did not recognize it, so I looked it up online. Little did I know I would be entering a wormhole of controversy and anger.
The opera is about the 1985 hijacking of the Achille Lauro cruise ship by a group from the PLO. Their only victim was an American Jew named Leon Klinghoffer, who they shot and then tossed his body off the side of the ship. Right from that brief description it became clear that the opera had been a perpetual source of controversy since it premiered in 1991.
I read all sorts of things: Richard Taruskin's article about why the BSO was right to cancel its performances of the choral pieces following 9/11, an interview with Alice Goodman in "The Guardian" explaining her conversion to Christianity (from Judaism) and how she never wrote another libretto again after "Klinghoffer", and pieces that discussed Klinghoffer's daughters' aversion to the piece. Many claimed the opera was anti-Semitic and glorified terrorism. I knew I had to see it and find out for myself. I also knew that segments of NYC's Jewish community would soon reawaken debate on this opera.
It started during the summer when Abraham Foxman of the ADL and Peter Gelb struck a deal that would cancel the HD Broadcast of the opera for fears of fanning anti-Semitism abroad. This concession was extremely odd because Gelb has maintained all along that the opera lacks anti-Semitism and Foxman even said that there's none of it in the piece. To think that international audiences would see things differently is kind of patronizing. But at least the MET didn't cancel the performances outright.
Still dissatisfied with Gelb, many right-wing and traditional Jewish organizations mounted a couple protests against the opera. One was at the Met's opening night, when Klinghoffer wasn't even being performed (it was Marriage of Figaro, I think)! The next one happened on Klinghoffer's premiere night. Hundreds of (mostly) orthodox Jews showed up to protest, some sitting symbolically in wheelchairs to send the message that "We are all Leon Klinghoffer."
I hope that the protesters were more thoughtful than the speakers who spoke at the protest. Rudy Giuliani started things off, and he was actually somewhat reasonable, letting people know that he had actually listened to the opera and read the libretto. He didn't approve of its message and said the Met had made a "grave mistake" in staging it, but at least came to the podium with an informed opinion.
The speakers got weirder after that. Michael Mukasy said that viewers of "Klinghoffer" were otherwise decent people who were paralyzed by the word art and that this art made people stop thinking. Ronald Lauter said that the opera would be used by the enemy of Jews abroad to say that even Americans side with terrorists. Benjamin Brafman said that Lincoln Center would forever be stained with the same stain as Auschwitz. Rep. Elliot Engel compared "Klinghoffer" to Hamas. Gov. David Patterson said that viewers of Klinghoffer, even if they weren't terrorists, sure helped them by seeing the piece. Another speaker said that Klinghoffer was an operatic Kristallnacht.
The reducto ad hitlerum was most apparent by the yellow stars each speaker had affixed to his jacket. The only somewhat effective moment at the protest was when an Israeli musician led the crowd in HaTikvah and Am Yisrael Chai. If you're protesting a musical performance, countering with music is probably more effective than countering with over-the-top and borderline-offensive Holocaust rhetoric.
I went to the protests as an observer, not a participant, and was planning on seeing the opera with a friend later in the week. As I was leaving the protest I ran into someone I knew, who told me that it was good to be there supporting the cause. I told him that I was extremely skeptical of the speeches. He told me that the speeches didn't matter and that demonstrating support (esp. for the Klinghoffer daughters) is what was important. He saw the protests through a traditional Jewish peoplehood lens: when Jews are threatened (no matter the threat) we have to stand up, call it out, and defend ourselves. After a traumatizing summer with the third Gaza War and rising anti-Semitism in Europe, it is totally understandable why there would be increased sensitivity.
But "Klinghoffer" seems like such a misplaced target. Indeed, very few of the protesters had actually listened to the opera or read the libretto. They quoted lines that the terrorists sing as proof that the opera itself is anti-Semitic when in context, it's clear that those lines are being sung by violent terrorists. It appeared to me that "Klinghoffer" was an easy punching bag for all these pent-up frustrations since the summer, a much easier punching bag than the media, the American government, European governments, Hamas, the Israeli government, and more.
There will be a forthcoming post featuring my review of the opera itself. Spoiler alert: it was not anti-Semitic.
Slamma Jamma for the Timberwolves!
I really didn't want to spend another night alone and I knew that a number of friends were busy. Unthinkingly, after On the Town I entered the Book of Mormon lottery, which I lost for the third time. It ended up being a blessing in disguise. After i got a smoothie at Jamba Juice that was really bad and not as good as they usually are. Disappointing.
I was texting Shira a little bit to discuss plans to see each other and I didn't have any good ideas for tonight so we decided to just do dinner at my apartment tomorrow. On the subway, though, I had a realization: that the only Nets/Twolves game at the Barclays Center was on Wednesday, November 5th. Because Yachad had been cancelled I could actually go to the game! I quickly texted Shira to see if she was interested and she was.
I knew tickets would be available but it was hard to figure out exactly how to get them. The box office at Barclays wasn't letting people in. So I did a stub hub search and found a pair of tickets in the upper deck on the side for $25 each. Not bad considering the original price was $40 each!
One problem though, I had to find a place to print the tickets! Because of the fire I couldn't go to CBE. Plus, it was a little too far. I called Emily but she didn't have a printer at home. I yelped printing services and saw that an indie printing place was on nearby Bergen street. Their tech was down, so I went to a ups store instead. It took a while for me to figure out exactly how to print without wasting money on a printing card, but it worked out and I got the tickets printed for $1 a piece (still a price gouge but whatever).
I sat in Starbucks to juice my phone for a bit before heading back to Barclays. I met Shira and went in for my second Barclays event (the first was Itzhak Perlman and Yitzchak Meyer-Helfgot together in concert back during my first year in BK. It's still a very nice arena. We took our seats, but planning to grab our snacks at the kosher food stand right before halftime.
The game itself:
It was a pretty exciting game! The score changed lots of times with the Timberwolves taking an early lead. By the half though the game was essentially tied until the end. The wolves were down by six with a couple minutes left but ended up pulling through to win the game.
KG now plays for the Nets, which is crazy because his career is so associated with the Timberwolves. How interesting for him to be playing against his "home" team so to speak. He only scored once but with his huge frame was able to get plenty of rebounds for the Nets.
I forgot how much fun arena rituals can be, especially for kids. Every time the camera scanned the crowd a kid a couple rows ahead of us started dancing enthusiastically. He didn't win. There were t shirt guns, dancers, shooting contests, a kid game at halftime, and those meters on the screen purporting to show how "loud" the audience is. I used to think those were real and the kids in the arena still do. Another great kid moment came when the twolves had the ball and the crowd was shouting "Defense!" This kid joined in the chanting, but when the Twolves scored, cheered. Maybe the kid was glad the nets had the ball back. Anyway, a cute moment.
When it comes to price gouging the Barclays center is worse than the ups store. A soda in a small cup cost $6! The kosher hotdog was also $6 which was way more reasonable but still too high. I guess Shira and I could have chosen not to partake.
The only reason I knew about the game in the first place was because I was bored in the subway and saw the nets schedule. The only reason I was free to go was because of a fire at CBE that cancelled yachad (fortunately/unfortunately would be a good game to play here). The only reason I remembered is because I had a moment of revelation in the subway this afternoon. The only reason I actually went was because Shira could come with. There are so many factors that lead to one's capacity for having a fun experience. I'm sure I've missed many, but I'm surely glad for tonight's.
I was texting Shira a little bit to discuss plans to see each other and I didn't have any good ideas for tonight so we decided to just do dinner at my apartment tomorrow. On the subway, though, I had a realization: that the only Nets/Twolves game at the Barclays Center was on Wednesday, November 5th. Because Yachad had been cancelled I could actually go to the game! I quickly texted Shira to see if she was interested and she was.
I knew tickets would be available but it was hard to figure out exactly how to get them. The box office at Barclays wasn't letting people in. So I did a stub hub search and found a pair of tickets in the upper deck on the side for $25 each. Not bad considering the original price was $40 each!
One problem though, I had to find a place to print the tickets! Because of the fire I couldn't go to CBE. Plus, it was a little too far. I called Emily but she didn't have a printer at home. I yelped printing services and saw that an indie printing place was on nearby Bergen street. Their tech was down, so I went to a ups store instead. It took a while for me to figure out exactly how to print without wasting money on a printing card, but it worked out and I got the tickets printed for $1 a piece (still a price gouge but whatever).
I sat in Starbucks to juice my phone for a bit before heading back to Barclays. I met Shira and went in for my second Barclays event (the first was Itzhak Perlman and Yitzchak Meyer-Helfgot together in concert back during my first year in BK. It's still a very nice arena. We took our seats, but planning to grab our snacks at the kosher food stand right before halftime.
The game itself:
It was a pretty exciting game! The score changed lots of times with the Timberwolves taking an early lead. By the half though the game was essentially tied until the end. The wolves were down by six with a couple minutes left but ended up pulling through to win the game.
KG now plays for the Nets, which is crazy because his career is so associated with the Timberwolves. How interesting for him to be playing against his "home" team so to speak. He only scored once but with his huge frame was able to get plenty of rebounds for the Nets.
I forgot how much fun arena rituals can be, especially for kids. Every time the camera scanned the crowd a kid a couple rows ahead of us started dancing enthusiastically. He didn't win. There were t shirt guns, dancers, shooting contests, a kid game at halftime, and those meters on the screen purporting to show how "loud" the audience is. I used to think those were real and the kids in the arena still do. Another great kid moment came when the twolves had the ball and the crowd was shouting "Defense!" This kid joined in the chanting, but when the Twolves scored, cheered. Maybe the kid was glad the nets had the ball back. Anyway, a cute moment.
When it comes to price gouging the Barclays center is worse than the ups store. A soda in a small cup cost $6! The kosher hotdog was also $6 which was way more reasonable but still too high. I guess Shira and I could have chosen not to partake.
The only reason I knew about the game in the first place was because I was bored in the subway and saw the nets schedule. The only reason I was free to go was because of a fire at CBE that cancelled yachad (fortunately/unfortunately would be a good game to play here). The only reason I remembered is because I had a moment of revelation in the subway this afternoon. The only reason I actually went was because Shira could come with. There are so many factors that lead to one's capacity for having a fun experience. I'm sure I've missed many, but I'm surely glad for tonight's.
On the Town at the Lyric Theater
11/5 matinee
Got ticket w/ Today Tix app
Was incredibly easy. Entered in the morning on my phone. Found out I won at 10:00 am.
Found out I won in the middle of Talmud class. Was nervous that my ticket would be released because I couldn't whip out my credit card in class. Fortunately had time during the gap to fill it out.
Other people seated near me were also lottery winners. Spoke briefly with them. Talked to one about the "Encores" version of the show. Just mentioned to the other how easy and convenient the lottery was. Couple seated in row ahead of me were swigging cocktails and whispering to each other for part of the show. Person next to me covered his ears during every applause. Woman who I talked to about "Encores" got annoyed with the couple and moved during intermission. Unfortunately for her the Russians also moved during intermission and had even more to drink. Much of act 2 reeked of liquor.
The show itself:
Opened with singing of national anthem. Now when the culture does widespread salutes to the troops it's usually Pop and country stars. For some reason something as goofy and fun and lighthearted has come to be seen as having "higher" entertainment values when it really is a piece of pop culture. On the Town is an artifact in that sense. But still singing the national anthem with the orchestra and conductor in front of the big american flag was a nice way to begin and to remember that the salute the troops aspect does make the show more than just a fun romp.
Opening number kind of teasing show boat and old man River with black bass leading other workers in a morning work song. He sang wonderfully but already you know that the show will be a throwback to the past, without a lot of the racial and cultural sensitivities we hold these days.
New York, New York song was wonderful, classic tune, enthusiastic dancing, set a whimsical tone for the rest of the show.
Scenery was kind of ugly I thought. Projections were distracting. Didn't show the life of the city. Kind of felt like a rough draft.
Every single song had a dance encore. That was another way musical was old school. Dance encore for the scene at the museum pretty offensive in terms of costumes and noise. But that's how the creators wrote it and the cast was having fun. Great great stuff with the T. Rex sculpture also.
Alysha Umphress was great as Hildy. Funny, sang loud, full, and well. Conveyed the attitude. I also like Claire DeLoon (Elizabeth Stanley) even though the character is perhaps less memorable than Hildy. Lovely singing, especially of "some other time" at the end of the show. The quartet parts in particular were just gorgeous.
Jackie Hoffman was hilarious and knew it, milking every laugh, and the audience was happy to oblige. A memorable one-off line was when she woke up from a drunken stupor saying, "it wasn't an orgy, it was a naked bar mitzvah!" I loled.
Other just wonderful musical numbers were Gabey's two songs. The first one, lonely town, was so soulful, was interrupted by a dance, and ended with a chorale of singers joining tony Yazbeck. His other song, lucky to be me, is a great standard that I recognized from many a New Year's Eve party. The cast gave it such joy.
But let's talk about the number one piece of the show: the dancing! Everyone had to do it, even Jackie Hoffman. But the real dancing star is of course Megan Fairchild from the NYCB who just rocked it at Ivy Smith. The act one piece was sheer delight and the act two pas de deux with Yazbeck, just wow. So beautiful and expressive. You see it all the time at Lincoln Center, but less and less on Broadway itself. There was plenty of "look at me" dancing too, but Fairchild and Yazbeck brought so much more than that.
About the orchestra: I love that the conductor played along with rogue cast members and dinosaurs but I didn't love that the biggest orchestra on Broadway still had to have amplification. It really took away from the richness of Bernstein's score. Maybe because I've spent so much time at the opera, ballet, and orchestra (including listening to Bernstein scores like Fancy Free) perhaps I have less patience for the tinny sound of an amplified orchestra.
Because it really is meant to just be a fun show (while still taking care to honor the troops; act two opened by singing happy birthday to a real life navy vet in the audience) I don't want to get into the racial and gender politics too much. But let's just say there's a lot going on here. Hildy and Claire are certainly women who take charge and get what they want sexually and are NOT labeled sluts for it, not even by Claire's fiancé, who ends up with another woman at the end in a nice, almost Shakespearean twist. Ivy, apart from her dancing, isn't much of a character and the only reason she is desirable is because of her looks. The "Gabey's Comin'" number, when the sailors manipulated the female chorus members like mannequins (as merely objects) indicates the production's sometimes retro gender politics. A couple uncomfortable cultural things too: the scene at the museum and the whole Rajah scene at the end. These are minor gripes and again, hearken back to the time of the show, but maybe an updated production could have been more creative in its choices for staging and for costumes especially.
Overall though, a really fun theater experience, with some lovely singing performances, and even more memorable dancing.
Got ticket w/ Today Tix app
Was incredibly easy. Entered in the morning on my phone. Found out I won at 10:00 am.
Found out I won in the middle of Talmud class. Was nervous that my ticket would be released because I couldn't whip out my credit card in class. Fortunately had time during the gap to fill it out.
Other people seated near me were also lottery winners. Spoke briefly with them. Talked to one about the "Encores" version of the show. Just mentioned to the other how easy and convenient the lottery was. Couple seated in row ahead of me were swigging cocktails and whispering to each other for part of the show. Person next to me covered his ears during every applause. Woman who I talked to about "Encores" got annoyed with the couple and moved during intermission. Unfortunately for her the Russians also moved during intermission and had even more to drink. Much of act 2 reeked of liquor.
The show itself:
Opened with singing of national anthem. Now when the culture does widespread salutes to the troops it's usually Pop and country stars. For some reason something as goofy and fun and lighthearted has come to be seen as having "higher" entertainment values when it really is a piece of pop culture. On the Town is an artifact in that sense. But still singing the national anthem with the orchestra and conductor in front of the big american flag was a nice way to begin and to remember that the salute the troops aspect does make the show more than just a fun romp.
Opening number kind of teasing show boat and old man River with black bass leading other workers in a morning work song. He sang wonderfully but already you know that the show will be a throwback to the past, without a lot of the racial and cultural sensitivities we hold these days.
New York, New York song was wonderful, classic tune, enthusiastic dancing, set a whimsical tone for the rest of the show.
Scenery was kind of ugly I thought. Projections were distracting. Didn't show the life of the city. Kind of felt like a rough draft.
Every single song had a dance encore. That was another way musical was old school. Dance encore for the scene at the museum pretty offensive in terms of costumes and noise. But that's how the creators wrote it and the cast was having fun. Great great stuff with the T. Rex sculpture also.
Alysha Umphress was great as Hildy. Funny, sang loud, full, and well. Conveyed the attitude. I also like Claire DeLoon (Elizabeth Stanley) even though the character is perhaps less memorable than Hildy. Lovely singing, especially of "some other time" at the end of the show. The quartet parts in particular were just gorgeous.
Jackie Hoffman was hilarious and knew it, milking every laugh, and the audience was happy to oblige. A memorable one-off line was when she woke up from a drunken stupor saying, "it wasn't an orgy, it was a naked bar mitzvah!" I loled.
Other just wonderful musical numbers were Gabey's two songs. The first one, lonely town, was so soulful, was interrupted by a dance, and ended with a chorale of singers joining tony Yazbeck. His other song, lucky to be me, is a great standard that I recognized from many a New Year's Eve party. The cast gave it such joy.
But let's talk about the number one piece of the show: the dancing! Everyone had to do it, even Jackie Hoffman. But the real dancing star is of course Megan Fairchild from the NYCB who just rocked it at Ivy Smith. The act one piece was sheer delight and the act two pas de deux with Yazbeck, just wow. So beautiful and expressive. You see it all the time at Lincoln Center, but less and less on Broadway itself. There was plenty of "look at me" dancing too, but Fairchild and Yazbeck brought so much more than that.
About the orchestra: I love that the conductor played along with rogue cast members and dinosaurs but I didn't love that the biggest orchestra on Broadway still had to have amplification. It really took away from the richness of Bernstein's score. Maybe because I've spent so much time at the opera, ballet, and orchestra (including listening to Bernstein scores like Fancy Free) perhaps I have less patience for the tinny sound of an amplified orchestra.
Because it really is meant to just be a fun show (while still taking care to honor the troops; act two opened by singing happy birthday to a real life navy vet in the audience) I don't want to get into the racial and gender politics too much. But let's just say there's a lot going on here. Hildy and Claire are certainly women who take charge and get what they want sexually and are NOT labeled sluts for it, not even by Claire's fiancé, who ends up with another woman at the end in a nice, almost Shakespearean twist. Ivy, apart from her dancing, isn't much of a character and the only reason she is desirable is because of her looks. The "Gabey's Comin'" number, when the sailors manipulated the female chorus members like mannequins (as merely objects) indicates the production's sometimes retro gender politics. A couple uncomfortable cultural things too: the scene at the museum and the whole Rajah scene at the end. These are minor gripes and again, hearken back to the time of the show, but maybe an updated production could have been more creative in its choices for staging and for costumes especially.
Overall though, a really fun theater experience, with some lovely singing performances, and even more memorable dancing.
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