• Miscast2010logo
    The Golden Globe winning actress for her role in the CBS series The Good Wife, Julianna Marguiles, was honored at the MCC gala on Monday night. M.C. Mo Rocca quipped, she was playing Silda Spitzer, Elizabeth Edwards, and other political wives scandalized by their husband's bad behavior. By the time I got to the Hammerstein Ballroom, her tv husband in question, Chris Noth, was getting a drink at the bar while a crowd pondered the silent action. 

    Dinner may have been great, but the best was yet to come, an annual revue featuring Broadway stars performing roles they would never ever get to play. So, Sutton Foster (Thoroughly Modern Millie, Drowsy Chaperone, and Shrek) sang “Maria” from West Side Story, Marin Mazzie belted “Where is the Life That Late I Led,” and opera singer Dennis Miller vamped  “Memories” as Cats' Grizabella. You get the picture. 

    But here was one act calculated to be hard to fathom: Montego Glover who is currently starring as a Memphis soul singer in the hit show Memphis put on a tallis (she says she got it at Barney's) and diddle-diddle-dummed as Tevya in Fiddler: “If I Were a Rich Man.” Zero Mostel may have been dancing on that roof. This powerhouse performance went through it. 

  • Oscars-2010
    Non-fiction features, however entertaining, are traditionally not high on viewers’ radar, certainly not the most controversially debated at Oscar time as say “Avatar” vs. “The Hurt Locker,” even though what makes them strong may be controversial. This year “Food, Inc.” and “The Cove,” both Academy Award nominated, drove a heated debate on the ethics of what we eat. As one observer put it, sex used to fuel that kind of moral fervor. Today it is food But are we still talking about movies? Or good movie-making? So often documentaries are considered for the issues they raise, even by Oscar committees, rather than their art.
     
    This year for non-fiction film honors, these fine works are joined by “Which Way Home,” a heart-wrenching view of Latin American boys hopping freight trains through Mexico to make it to the United States, “The Most Dangerous Man in America: Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers,” on a politically volatile piece of US history, and “Burma VJ: Reporting from a Closed Country,” a Danish film by Anders Ostergaard about the 2007 uprising in Myanmar.
     
    What makes this last unusual in a field that can be a frontier for innovation is that it is shot through the cameras of the independent journalist group, Democratic Voice of Burma. In fact, the very act of documenting the oppression of citizens and Buddhist monks protesting the country’s oppressive regime that had held them hostage for 40 years, suppressing foreign news crews and even the internet, was a subversive act. The act of smuggling the devastating footage of 30 anonymous and underground video journalists risked torture and life imprisonment. The art of putting all this material together involved not only assembling the footage, but showing how the footage was acquired.
     
    An audience including documentarians Albert Maysles and Robert Richter, and Julie Taymor, Jane Alexander, and Gay Talese joined director Anders Ostergaard for a special screening hosted by HBO Documentary Films and Oscilloscope at MoMA recently. At dinner at Osteria del Circo, many marveled at the ingenuity of the filmmaking. When asked whether he thought he would win the Oscar, Anders Ostergaard smiled and said, “Dead monks vs. dead dolphins,” referring to the subject of The Cove. “No, I don’t think so.”
  • Tempest
    The distressed walls at BAM's Harvey Theater form a perfect backdrop for the deconstructed world of this excellent production of “The Tempest,” performed in a well-paced, intermission-less two hours and 15 minutes, in repertoire with “As You Like It.” 

    According to the BAM notes, director Sam Mendes paired these plays for the Bridge Project's second season, conceiving of them as “a single journey.” If in the earlier play, characters retreat from unsettling politics to the forest, here they land shipwrecked on a distant shore.

    As we first see Prospero (the ever intelligent Stephen Dillane), he dons a torn waistcoat and feather belt, an outfit befitting a homeless man as well as an exiled king, and struts and frets about a circle of sand, the center of the play's action. 

    The slave Caliban (Ron Cephas Jones with long curled claws) emerges from that brilliantly conceived sand pit, as the ethereal Ariel (Christian Camargo) comes forth through the light, the first a man-animal, the latter a man-spirit, each subject to Prospero's command. In some of his incarnations-in a suit, evening gown, and wearing steel wings worthy of creatures in “Avatar”-Ariel carries the play's spectacle allowing Prospero's sorcery, the storm that forces others to this mini-kingdom: a fine ensemble including Prospero's usurping brother Antonio (Michael Thomas) and his posse, the comic pair Trinculo and Stephano (Anthony O'Donnell channeling W.C. Fields and Thomas Sadoski), and Ferdinand, son of the King of Naples (Edward Bennett), a proper suitor for Prospero's daughter Miranda (Juliet Rylance). 

    As one of Shakespeare's “problem” plays, “The Tempest” challenges the usual categories: it is not really funny, although one bit where Caliban hides under a tarp already occupied by the suited Trinculo making a two-backed, four-legged beast–all sexual innuendo invited–is hilarious. Yet it does end happily as “As You Like It” does, with those who would wed together, and a ruler in place, more wise than vengeful.

    Regina Weinreich

  • DanzigerLucy2 That sexy gap-toothed self-help guru of the Middle Ages, Chaucer's Wife of Bath, in her own quest discovered that what women want most is self-rule. Now in the Age of Autonomy for women, a new book The Nine Rooms of Happiness suggests desire has shifted. 

    As written by Self Magazine editor-in-chief Lucy Danziger informed by the clinical expertise of Dr. Catherine Birndorf, what women want most is more than the slimmest waistline, the hunkiest lover, the highest paycheck and other perks of a fabulous career! More than the big picture, it's the little things that count.

    Using the conceit of a house, the authors move from room to room, from the basement clutter to attic heirlooms suggesting that cleaning up the mess is really inner housekeeping. And, anyway, the journey is a matter of recognition: you are probably happier than you think.

    Perched on the stairs overlooking the dining area of the Monkey Bar, Danziger proclaimed, if she were ever bat mitzvahed, this was it. Celebrants including Charlie RoseDylan LaurenHoda Kotb, and Evelyn Lauder sipped sparkling wine and munched on shrimp and sliders and red velvet cupcakes looking happy indeed. 

  • Sam_Moore_ In town for an AFTRA Lifetime Achievement Award, the legendary Sam
    Moore
    performed at the Highline Ballroom on Sunday night. The
    consummate showman began his set from a booth in the back, teasing the
    crowd with “Hold on, I'm Coming,” till the boyish 74 year old made his
    way to the stage.

    A perfect concert followed, featuring a first-rate band, backup singers
    including a rocking Chrissy Poland, and his trademark tunes, “Knock on
    Wood,” “What I Want,” “I Can't Stand the Rain,” and “Blame it on the
    Rain,” until he sang “When Something is Wrong With My Baby” and someone
    shouted out: “Not here tonight.”

    And then the unexpected: Sam called Ryan Shaw to the stage. Shaw had
    performed an opening set, remarking that he was honored that The Sam
    Moore even knew who he was. The music child of Ashford and Simpson, who
    just happened to be listening in, as was Steve Van Zandt, Shaw then
    performed with Moore and Valerie Simpson. “Soul Man,” “Dance to the
    Music.” The music from Shaft paid homage to Isaac Hayes and then Moore,
    Shaw and Simpson performed “You are so Beautiful” in tribute to Billy
    Preston. The show ended with Sam's “A Rainy Night in Georgia.”

    As you congratulate Sam Moore on a great show and the award he so well
    deserves, he comes back, serious: “how about those fish 'n' chips you
    were munching on? I didn't get any.” I went home and played his CD,
    Overnight Sensation. I just didn't want the music to end.

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • Happy Tears The oxymoron of “Happy Tears,” a title from a signature Roy Lichtenstein painting, can refer to the comfort of living with the dysfunction one has known all one's life. In Mitchell Lichtenstein's funny and weird fictional tale of two sisters, an LA socialite Jayne (Parker Posey) and her hippyish sister Laura (Demi Moore), coping with their father's Alzheimer's, Jayne wears a pair of $2800 boots as she wipes the shit off her father's rump. That's the least of his senescence, which also involves taking up with a drug-addled floozy (Ellen Barkin) with big tits, wild hair, and bad teeth. 

    The father, played by the scene chewing Rip Torn who in real life recently made headlines brandishing a gun in a bank. The character was based on a father in the filmmaker's extended family: a bit where he has a buried treasure of coins in the backyard comes from real life, said Lichtenstein in a recent interview. 

    When asked how he worked with Torn, Lichtenstein said, “He says he has more working credits than any other actor. He really understood the character so it was really about making sure he was happy and comfortable. He is a great actor and a great comedian.” As to the scandal: “No one was hurt. I was pretty much only happy about it when I heard for that reason. Good publicity.” 

    Phyllis and HArold Cindy Kleine's documentary, “Phyllis and Harold,” illustrates that she is no stranger to “happy tears” herself. At first her parents seem to come out of central casting for an upscale Long Island couple of a certain age. Kleine said she realized she had a movie seeing the treasure trove of slides her father Harold had made of their family. Then at 18 she discovered her mother's secret life, a boyfriend in the early years of the marriage, who reappears later for a late-life tryst. 

    Much of this documentation fascinates in the way the unremarkable can resonate, reminiscent of the documentaries Alan Berliner made of his parents. But here is a coincidence: During much of their marriage, Phyllis and Harold traveled. After his death, Phyllis said appreciatively, surprising as she kvetched a lot, “he showed me the world.” Turned out, Kleine said in an interview, Alan Berliner's mother was their travel agent. That world was indeed small!

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  •  The pride2
    “He's the best young actor around,” said Julie Taymor of Ben Whishaw at the Lucille Lortel Theater opening of a new play, Alexi Kaye Campbell's The Pride, a recent hit in London. Taymor knows, having directed the young actor as Ariel in The Tempest, to be released by Disney in December. “That's why I'm here tonight,” she added. In The Pride, Ben Whishaw gets a fresh fifties' haircut, a handsome change from his longer coif as John Keats in Bright Star. With agility and grace he plays Oliver, a writer who in the first scene recounts an epiphany experienced at the Oracle at Delphi to a couple upon first meeting the husband, Philip, the equally fetching Hugh Dancy and wife, Sylvia, a one-time actress, now an illustrator with the lovely Andrea Riseborough in the role: “Everything will be all right.”  

    The “everything” is sexually transgressive for 1958, as the air in the living room becomes palpably man-to-man heavy. Segue to 2008, where Oliver, same actor, same sexual proclivities in the permissive present must face the consequences of his promiscuity. His lover, Philip, (Dancy) has moved out. An actress, Sylvia (Riseborough), is an attentive friend. Adam James, in a variety of parts provides humorous and touching moments-for example, impersonating a Nazi in a fizzled kinky interlude.

    As ably directed by Joe Mantello, The Pride is especially resonant in a violent scene where Oliver speaks of his love for Philip who responds in shame. The idea of pride in one's desires might be taken as a plea for openness; as Oliver says to the closeted Philip, you have an opportunity to find out who you are. The Pride may be about sexual identity, but the subtext is loneliness, and in that regard no one suffers more than the emotionally generous Sylvia, in both her incarnations. 

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • Art of the steal
    You will scream, “Highway robbery!” as it hits you that the villains in the provocative documentary, The Art of the Steal, to open this week–about the untoward fate of a very special painting and sculpture collection–are some of the most respected arts institutions in America. 

    Albert C. Barnes' rise from the poorest slums of Philadelphia to developing an antiseptic drug and buying up with his fortune what is considered the best collection of post-impressionist-early modernist art is on the one hand the American Dream enacted, and on the other, in terms of how his will has been thwarted, a cynical view of how a man's legacy can be manipulated by the greedy and powerful. 

    The film ably limns this history, most interestingly as it shows how Barnes' collection grew, defining what was “Barnes worthy”-any old Van Gogh would not do. This man had an extraordinary eye, amassing what is now deemed the work of great masters; moreover, in 1922, he displayed the collection in unusual arrangements in the rooms of a house in suburban Merion, Pa, not far enough away from Philadelphia arts society. Matisse is said to have thought the Barnes Foundation the best place to see art.  

    Barnes was as deliberate about his wishes for the collection after his death and planned his estate stipulating that the foundation remain open for educational purposes only, that the collection not tour, and most important, remain intact as is.

    Trouble arises soon after Barnes died in a car accident; various factions vie for control of the prestigious and rich collection. The film thrillingly shows how key personnel disregard Barnes' intentions. Through a court system as addled as Jarndyce vs. Jarndyce, Barnes' advocates attempt to keep the collection where it is, as institutions like the Pew Charitable Trust seek to administer this art cache now worth an estimated $25 billion. 

    You wish to hear how respected museums justify their appropriation, but few agreed to be interviewed.  You wish for justice, that somehow this documentary might have the Errol Morris effect, changing its future: that somehow the dismantling and moving of this valuable collection will not occur, even as construction of a new building on Philadelphia's Benjamin Franklin Parkway is now underway.

    The film's premiere last week, appropriately at MoMA and with an afterparty at the midtown Haunch of Venison gallery, with its views overlooking Manhattan was attended by arts and film mavens: Lola Schnabel, Stella Schnabel, Michael Stuhlbarg , Barbara Kopple, Albert Maysles and John McEnroe. Some frustration set in as the filmmakers, director Don Argott, producer Sheena Joyce, and executive producer Lenny Feinberg fielded criticism for not having interviewed the right people. 

    Arts journalist David D'Arcy who appears in the film predicts the worst is yet to come for the Barnes collection: some paintings will have to be sold, enacting Albert C. Barnes' worst nightmare.
  • Love Lost When I was a little girl, my mother used to make my clothes; all I wanted was store-bought dresses. Today, I am convinced I can do anything, as long as I am wearing the right outfit. When my daughter was a little girl, I shopped for her at Bendel's. Today, no matter what occasion, she wears Casual Friday. This welter of memories came up at the Westside Theatre, after seeing a production of “Love, Loss, and What I Wore” last month, and so I wanted to see it again, this time with my daughter. 

    As the five actresses of “Love Loss and What I Wore” meticulously lay out every meaningful bit of wardrobe-the Brownie uniform, the prom frock, the two dresses daddy bought before he left for good, the push up bra, the purse, the bathrobe-the words exert the power of Proust's madeleine for me. My daughter thinks, fascinating, but that's so yesterday, but then as this play sneakily offers a trip down memory lane for all, some lines resonate: “No I can't return it because I bought it on sale.” She wonders, are the younger actors as obsessed with clothes as her mom's generation?

    And so as the play's new cast, formidable and funny, comprised of Carol Kane, Janeane Garofalo, Joanna Gleason, Caroline Rhea, and June Diane Raphael, a requisite mix of young and old and different body types, took off their black and joined the celebration at Marseilles, she could see that Janeane Girafola had removed her sequins in favor of a dark cotton tee shirt and jeans, and still looked somewhat subversive.

    For me Caroline Rhea is a hilarious stand up comic on Comedy Central; my daughter knows her as one of the aunts from Sabrina, The Teen Aged Witch, and could pick out the television show's star Melissa Joan Hart at the party, a reassuring piece of her childhood. 

    “Love, Loss”'s Gingy is based upon the true-life character created by Ilene Beckerman who, in a style I'll call gypsy chic-bandanna, long skirt– told me she has seen the play with its rotating cast fifteen times. Loving the way each actress brings something new to her role, she pointed out, “This is not real life. Real life is home in New Jersey, with the house, the problems, the grandkids.”

    Delia Ephron, who co wrote the clever script with her sister Nora Ephron, has recently completed a book, titled "The Girl with the Mermaid Hair," about daughters dealing with their mother's plastic surgery. They are struggling with self-image in a way that “Love, Loss, and What I Wore” only begins to define. This Pandora's box may require more than “Love, Loss”'s cathartic laughs.

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • Oscars
    Members of the Motion Picture Academy assure me, financial success, even the overwhelming Avatar billions, is no criteria for Best Picture Oscar. We have seen the Avatar story in many incarnations in various genres, and The Hurt Locker has a fresh narrative strategy. Awesome as Avatar is, I don't see it as Best Picture over the tighter, more thrilling achievement of The Hurt Locker.

    This is not to limit the race to these contenders, but as discussed on Charlie Rose's excellent panel on Tuesday night: Annette Insdorf, Stephanie Zacharek, Dana Stevens, and A.O. Scott, a dark horse may exist in one of the other eight fine nominees, but really, these two movies define the award season race.

    And ditto for Best Director. The well deserving Kathryn Bigelow should get the statue on the merit of the work, and, if history is made, so be it.

    Precious based on Sapphire's Push may also present an opportunity for historic moment. As Dana Stevens put it, she felt “bludgeoned” by this movie. And yes, the performances are so good, you could feel for Precious, and surprisingly, her abusive mother too.

    Without selecting one to knock off the list, I liked C more than most critics. I never understood the negative take on this highly entertaining movie. Compare it to 8 1/2. Remember Marcello, a colleague pointed out, look at the humor he brought to the Fellini film on which the show Nine and now the movie was based. True, Daniel Day Lewis as Guido is strong in suffering, a bold brooder, sexy in suits, yet short on comedy. Still. His work block seems especially real.

    Inglourious Basterds deserves a category all its own for subversive humor and Tarantino's passionate, outsized, wicked and witty imagination. Best Live Action Cartoon.

    The Blind Side and personal faves: A Serious Man and An Education. The animated Up may be one of the best movies I've ever seen on an airplane, and speaking of airplanes, Up in the Air is the kind of smart movie that is superbly attuned to the Zeitgeist. Best Picture for any of these? Hmm.

    But one member of the academy cautioned me to avoid assumptions: “The Academy doesn't think like anyone else. You may be surprised.”

    To be continued.

  • Gates Opening his 1955 novel Lolita, Nabokov's narrator Humbert Humbert describes himself as “a salad of racial genes.” In hindsight, and based upon Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr.'s new PBS series, Faces in America–to air on Wednesdays, February 10 through March 3–perhaps the novelist was being less metaphoric and more real than he imagined. 

    At Jazz at Lincoln Center's Rose Room, with city views stretching east along Central Park South, one episode of the four-part series called “Know Thyself” was screened on Monday for a crowd that included Brian Williams, Lynn Nesbit, S. Epatha Merkerson, David Remnick, McGee Hickey, and Henry Louis Gates, Sr.

    Harry Evans asked before Tina Brown could stop him, had I spit into a cup? Was my DNA tested? The night proceeded like something of a parlor trick with Gates a charming host. Guess who is related to whom. 

    Believing that the triumph of American democracy is its melting pot, its immigrants, diversity, and genetic ancestry, Gates has been busy tracing the genes of some prominent Americans, among them Mario Batali, Eva Longoria and Yo-Yo Ma.

    Here is what we found out both onscreen and off: Poet Elizabeth Alexander is descended from Charlemagne. With his Russian Jewish ancestry film director Mike Nichols is related to the heart surgeon/ tv host, Dr. Mehmet Oz, a Muslim Turk. 

    Upon discovering that he and Gates had genetic material in common, Regis Philbin said gamely, “I am honored. There is no one in my family who even went to Harvard.” And, how in the world do I explain this to Kelly Ripa? Lots of luck, Reeg. 

    Despite scientific experts participating in this captivating study, the significance of this material will bemuse skeptics. Meryl Streep illustrated her diabolical sense of irony when asked how the discovery of her ancestors going back several centuries made her feel: more important than I already am, she quipped rolling her eyes. 

    Gates pointed out that the results prove no matter what was going on throughout human history as regards race, class, ethnicity, once the lights were down, everyone was sleeping with everyone else. That said, here is no surprise: Hollywood Reporter's celebrity columnist Roger Friedman is genetically joined, an “autosomal” cousin, to gossip doyenne Cindy Adams.

    It's a small world after all.
  • Alicia_silverstone3 In my house, we can recite lines from Clueless at whim, so to see Alicia Silverstone all grown up among the formidable theater talents in Donald Margulies' new play, Time Stands Still, is an Occasion.

    This fine Manhattan Theatre Club production, superbly directed by Daniel Sullivan at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre opens with Sarah Goodwin (the excellent Laura Linney) in a full leg cast with facial wounds, a war photographer who has been badly injured by a roadside bomb in Iraq, entering the Williamsburg loft she shares with James Dodd (the equally excellent Brian D'Arcy James), a war journalist. Particularly attentive to her, and admittedly feeling guilty because he left Iraq before the incident, he has retrieved her from hospital in Germany.

    With silver tipped hair, Richard Ehrlich (an excellent Eric Bogosian), Sarah's former flame and editor, arrives with his new girlfriend Mandy Bloom (Silverstone, who also originated the role in the LA production), toting cheery silver “Get Well” and “Welcome Home” balloons. A glowing signal of the generation gap, along with some telling dialogue referring to Brazil, Terry Gilliam's classic movie, not the country, the gesture suggests that Mandy's sense of history may stop at Madonna, as her taste conjures the iconic Clueless teen Cher Horowitz that made Silverstone so famous. My matinee date, my daughter, whispered: Silverstone is playing true to type. Confronted, accused of robbing the cradle, Richard, a “survivor” of a relationship with an intellectual closer in age, says he is happier than he has ever been, now with this uncomplicated party planner.

    Margulies' nuanced dialogue is of the historic moment, raising questions about the moral imperatives of making art from others' devastation, as when Sarah recounts an instance when a grieving mother, a victim of a terror attack, insists the photographer put away her camera and get help. Pondering the violation, she concludes: I was there to record life, not to change it. When she says, “All I see is the picture,” you are aware of her human limitations, all the while that she is held up as an artist, a noble risk-taker.

    The main drama may turn on Sarah and James' future together now that injuries have grounded them, or professional rivalry for the couple as Sarah is clearly the star, but for my daughter the play concerned the contrasting women, the conflict of devoted ambition vs. soft domesticity. That Silverstone could make her breezy, compassionate Mandy understandable and appealing, a worthy voice in this quartet, speaks to the excellence of her performance.

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • Clair Daines temple-grandin You may have seen the billboards over the Long Island Expressway: Claire Danes as you've never seen her, in a juvenile retro curls with eyes staring out as wide as saucers. In the role of the autistic, gruff voiced writer, educator, scientist, inventor, and consultant to the livestock industry on animal behavior Temple Grandin, she is as unglamorous as a glamorous movie star can be. 

    At the premiere of this HBO movie this week, to air on February 6, her tresses sleeked and wearing a satin trench, Danes took praise for her outstanding performance in stride, chatting with Jessica Lange, Marlo Thomas, Debby Harry, Narcisco Rodrigez, Cynthia Nixon, the Culkin brothers, Kieran and Macauley. Her husband Hugh Dancy was just a few blocks away, rehearsing his new play, the MCC production of “The Pride.” Also present for the screening and fine Italian dinner at A Voce: cast members Catherine O'Hara and David Strathairn, as well as Temple Grandin and her mother Eustacia Cutler. 

    Subtitled “Thinking in Pictures,” the film shines a light on autism in its successful efforts to put you inside Temple Grandin's head, to see her thinking process, so that you actually understand where her seemingly erratic behavior comes from. Think of Dustin Hoffman's star turn in Rain Man. Only here, several damaging myths about autism are dispelled in the depiction of the remarkable relationship of Grandin with her mother, a woman so strong she refused to institutionalize Temple, who was still not speaking at 4.

    The movie is a nine-year in the making passion project for producer Emily Gerson Saines, who has an autistic son.

    Just before the fine Italian dinner at A Voce, in the Ladies Room, Eustacia was having a tete a tete with Julia Ormond, who portrays her so well in the movie, about the liberties taken with the mother-daughter story for the sake of the drama. “You have to make a story, otherwise you don't tell anything,” Cutler said wisely.

    Because Temple Grandin is now famous for her work in the humane handling of cattle slaughter, many anti-meat advocates will find this film controversial.

    Temple Grandin, wearing a snazzy cowboy shirt, has her own look. She had given Danes some tapes to help her prepare for this role; the two had spent a day together. She beamed pleasure at the actress's incarnation of herself. “Everyone else was just acting,” she told me, “but Danes was me. And yes, I eat meat.”

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • Asyoulikeit_pdp
    As You Like It is a natural crowd-pleaser and the production at BAM rises to the traditional Shakespearean hilarity: red-nosed clowning, ribaldry, girl talk as bawdy as that in Sex & the City. As directed by Sam Mendes for The Bridge Project's second season–he also directs The Tempest to open at BAM in February–the play crosses a few century's divide: part 2 opens with an instance of water boarding and, that most contemporary bard Bob Dylan is evoked. Paramount are Shakespeare's signature themes: the virtues of family and marital love, the problems of sibling rivalry. 

    The fine set, the urban scene represented by a dark gray wall windowed with shafts of light gives way to the sunny open bucolic, for Shakespeare's principle dramatic obsession: what makes for good leadership. 

    The plot involves couplings: Two brothers. One usurps the throne. The other goes into exile in the Forest of Arden. Their daughters, Rosalind and Celia, stay in court as playmates. Two younger brothers, Orlando and Oliver, also vie for power. Rosalind and Orlando fall in love. Banished from court by her uncle, Rosalind disguises herself as Ganymede, a young swain, and heads for the forest to seek her father. Scenes of mismatched lovers and irresponsible leaders ensue, until by Shakespearean magic, a pleasure to behold, all is set right.

    While the ensemble is good as a whole, certain performances stand out: much acclaimed in last season's reasons to be pretty, Thomas Sadoski is a wonderful Touchstone. Coupled with the energetic Audrey (Jenni Barber), this comedy's woman of deep cleavage and tousled hair, he is a dynamic force, just as Stephen Dillane is understated as the poetic Jaques, a melancholy gentleman. Juliet Rylance is lovely and intelligent as Rosalind/ Ganymede. 

    This play is a must for anyone who weeps at weddings

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • Tarantino Woody Harrelson was right. Christoph Waltz did in fact win the Best Supporting Actor Globe, and sat exultant at the Weinstein Company's afterparty at the Beverly Hilton Hotel's Bar 210 and Blush Ultra Lounge (formerly Trader Vic's) with his wife Judith and friends. Close by Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban occupied a banquette. 

    Also present: Carey Mulligan and her look-alike mom seemed unfazed by the rain that threatened to leave teardrop markings on silk chiffon, and happy that Sandra Bullock took home the statue for Best Actress/drama. Gracious and aware that she will have her time, Carey was genuine in her appreciation.

    With televised replay of the ceremony, the party which also celebrated Belstaff, the Italian men's fashion line that designed looks for Nine and Inglorious Basterds, featured an Asian style menu, Martini &Rossi cocktails, and almond studded Haagen Daz ice cream pops. No one should go hungry, especially after all those speeches.

    By the time we got to the tented outdoor patio, we could see Tom Ford and Julianne Moore ducking out through an emergency exit under a much-needed accessory: an umbrella. That may have been a theme for celebrities: red carpet, ceremony, party, and escape.

    Said to be the best for parties of all the awards, for Golden Globe novices, the Beverly Hilton is divided up into party areas, with Globes winners getting extra carpet time at individual studio affairs: HBO, In Style. The Cartier sponsored NBC-Universal affair was a rooftop extravaganza. While not encouraged, party hopping keeps everyone on the move, and hotel corridors provide their own amusements.

    Outside the ballroom, a parade: Sophia Loren, Mo'Nique, Toni Collette, Morgan Freeman, Kevin Bacon. An aide assisted Kyra Sedgwick with a wayward sash. Sandra Bullock swished by splendid in her purple Bottega Veneta. Quentin Tarantino who speaks in only one mode, passionate, gesticulated wildly button holing a rapt Peter Sarsgaard and Maggie Gyllenhaal, about his favorite moment in Lone Scherfig's An Education, a personal favorite that will sure be listed among the Oscar's Nominated 10. 

    Uber-stylist Rachel Zoe in a black and silver scallop motif tiered number posed for photos. She had expertly put together Cameron Diaz, Jennifer Garner, and Kate Hudson for the evening, each one weatherproof, durable and gorgeous.

    TV/ Actor/ Drama winner for Showtime's Dexter, Michael C. Hall let me hold his Golden Globe, and it was heavy.
  • Golden Globe By the time Woody Harrelson arrived at the Chateau Marmont penthouse, the party hosted by The New York Times Style Magazine-with editors Gerald Marzorati and Stefano Tonchi, writer Lynn Hirschberg, hotelier Anton Balazs–was well underway. A Peggy Siegal event in the tradition of her most astounding soirees, this one featured a famed terrace chockablock with legends: Joan Collins Jane Fonda, a nd Shirley MacLaine. Jane Seymour joined them for a photo. Dom Perignon champagne, vintage 2000, flowed.
    Did Woody, a star of the movie The Messenger, think he would win a best actor award? No, without hesitation he said, “That prize belongs to only one man: Christoph Waltz, and he's brilliant.” Across the room, a Hollywood Who's Who, the Austrian actor seemed poised for his close up.

    The stars arrived in enclaves: A Single Man's Tom Ford with Julianne Moore clad in red. Claire Danes with pal Mamie Gummer, A Serious Man's Michael Stuhlbarg stood near Amy Landecker, Marisa Tomei, Bob Balaban, Carla Guigino, Chloe Sevigny, Dana Delaney, Jena Malone, Elizabeth Banks, Lindsay Lohan, Quentin Tarantino with Waltz, more directors Oren Moverman, Sofia Coppola, Oliver Stone who recently finished directing Carey Mulligan in Wall Street II. Nailing a coquettish Audrey Hepburn persona perfectly in An Education, the young star had her mother in tow. Tom Cruise held court inside near the bar. Katie Holmes really is taller, and while I wanted to know whether she truly embraced Scientology, this was not the place.

    But back to Woody who was wearing a hat, to paraphrase a Kerouac haiku, that wasn't on his head. His Messenger co-star Ben Foster kept grabbing it claiming the pork pie shaped topper was his, and explained their comic symbiosis. They were doing a Laurel and Hardy routine in the crowded space as if no one else was there.

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • Sardi's 5 To be enshrined at Sardi's, the famed West 44 Street restaurant in the heart of the theater district with its trademark caricatures of thespians and drama queens is such an honor, one actress I know sups proudly at the table beneath her portrait in the first floor dining room. Last Wednesday, a new face was added, that of Daryl Roth, producer of so many hits, Proof, Wit, The Year of Magical Thinking, and Curtains among them, the theater world congregated for this tribute could not believe it took so long.

    But Daryl Roth took another view: This is the right time, she said, in between photo ops with Kathleen Turner and Bill Irwin, the current cast of Love, Loss and What I Wore: Michele Lee, Debra Monk, Katie Finneran Tracee Ellis Ross, Casey Wilson while Carol Kane, Bob Balaban, Karen Ziemba, Michael Lynne, Tovah Feldshuh, and many others looked on. I was feeling old, she laughed.

    Charles Busch and David Hyde Pierce attested to Roth's vital contribution to theater and her nurturing role in their careers. Jordan Roth, president of Jujamcyn Theaters was pleased for his mom, “the person and the picture,” he quipped, noting, “She works as only a mother can, creating a family of each production.

    Meanwhile, a new Roth “family” was auditioning a few blocks away. “The Pride,” a recent hit in London by Alexi Kaye Campbell will have its U. S. premiere at the MCC Theater. Directed by Joe Mantello, the play about sexual identity and politics in parallel periods, 1958 and 2008, features a triangle: British actress Andrea Riseborough, Ben Whishaw of Jane Campion's Bright Star and Hugh Dancy, who performed in the Broadway production of Journey's End, and was so dashing as the Earl of Essex on HBO to Helen Mirren's Elizabeth the First

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • George Clooney2 1. Critics Matter. Accepting the award for Best Actor for his roles in Up in the Air and Fantastic Mr. Fox, George Clooney shouted out to Rex Reed who always expresses reservations about Clooney's performances, “I will not sleep-at my villa in Italy -in Lake Como-until you are happy.”

    2. No liquids. Christine Lahti acknowledged that she was chosen to present the award to George Clooney, not as a close personal friend, but as the winner of a similar award some time ago [1984 Best Supporting Actress for Swing Shift] and because she is in New York in the current Broadway production of God of Carnage. But the Oscar winning actress is also remembered for having been in the Ladies' Room when her award was announced. “That was a great moment,” I said remembering the event on television, to wit she replied, “Yeah, great for you.” And then just before she hit the podium, where was she? In the Ladies' Room.

    3. Study lighting. Cinematographer Christian Berger gave Michael Haneke's new film The White Ribbon its unique look by studying black and white films like the Coen Brothers' The Man Who Wasn't There and one in color, Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven, because it was “lit by oil lamps,” said the Austrian about his work on what critics call Haneke's most mature film. 

    4. Pay attention to Freud. Fellow Austrian Christoph Waltz, the oxymoronic charming Nazi of Quentin Tarantino's “Inglorious Basterds,” insists he is not German. There is a huge cultural difference, he assured me. Happy he achieved this recognition of Best Supporting Actor in midst of a 30 year career, he says, “As a beginner you would be thrown. I still have a healthy distance.”

    5. Have no expectations. James Toback, presenting to Christian Berger, has gotten over his snub for Best Documentary Oscar short list for Tyson. “Nominated!” he said, “I expected to win!”

    6. For Oscars, don't think beyond the present. Kathryn Bigelow, supported by her leading Hurt Locker actors Jeremy Renner and Anthony Mackie, claims to be taking her awards one at a time. She presented the NYFCC's Special Award to Andrew Sarris and also had on hand the executive director of the EOD Memorial Foundation, Jim O'Neil, recently returned from Afghanistan. An expert in dismantling bombs, he attested to the authenticity of The Hurt Locker's depiction of that war. Said New York Times columnist Frank Rich in presenting Best Picture and Best Director awards to Kathryn Bigelow: “Some day the war will end but people will still be watching The Hurt Locker.” 

    And so ended a night of honors at Crimson, with no hint of an avatar.

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura


  • WhatI wore 2
    The wit and wisdom of Nora Ephron so deliciously displayed in the movies Julie & Julia, the classics Heartburn, and You've Got Mail, is served up warm and wonderful at the Westside Theater in the play, Love, Loss, and What I Wore. Five characters bond, bicker, and betray in a girl fest that extends to the actors themselves. 

    On Thursday, Michele LeeDebra MonkKatie Finneran, Tracee Ellis Ross, Casey Wilson, all chicly attired in black, ably juggled the script from an original book by Ilene Beckerman and ushered in a new batch of jokes, jabs, and cartoons of key clothes. 

    The play opens with a Proustian conceit minus the madeleine: memories can be triggered-not by the taste of that infamous cookie-but by the outfits one wore: Brownie uniform, tutu, prom dress. The women riff on black, as in, let's admit it, black is the new black. Says one, when I wear something else, I regret it. Or the figure camouflage of the voluminous Eileen Fisher look that fools no one. Even the men in the audience got it. 

    And the women: You could see they were having a great time in that intimate theater. Michele Lee said she learned something new: at a critical point, she draws herself in her own outfit. I especially loved the way she got the lapels of her jacket. Pretty good for a non-artist.

    At the afterparty at Marseilles, Delia Ephron, Nora's sister and writing partner, noted, each new set of actresses changes the play, adding story lines as when Rosie O'Donnell told, from her mother's life, of having cancer at 39. The role has changed hands a few times, but the story line stayed in. 

    A poignant account of childhood pain, shtick on dating, or shopping for the perfect purse, each vignette hits a consummate urban nerve. Of course, I wore black.

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • Snyder_gary_ The National Arts Club was jammed with poets on Tuesday evening, and those were on the walls: images of Auden and BerrymanAshbery and   Ginsberg and Gertrude Stein for the Portraits of Poets 1910-2010 exhibition. What about off the wall, the 3 hundred or so filling this historic Gramercy Park institution's homey Christmas sitting rooms? A who's who of poets and their photographers: Jill KrementzNancy Crampton,Chris Felver among them sat to hear the verse, though soon the seats ran out and the New Yorker poetry editor Alice Quinn urged the standing room crowd to use the floor if necessary. Soon floor space ran out too.

    Baraka_amiri The occasion marked the centennial of the Poetry Society of America with a stellar reading by Richard HowardGalway KinnellMarie PonsotYusef Komunyakaa, and ending withSapphire, the author of Push, the novel on which the movie Precious, sure to be nominated for Best Picture Oscar, is based. Causing a sensation for the level of family dysfunction and abuse, Precious' most egregious figures are the parents.

    Sapphire read a Father's Day tribute, “June 17, 2007,” and it was a relief that the poem's father was unlike the father in her novel.

    Waldman_anne_thumb The charismatic beat writers were present in pictures: Bob KaufmanAnne WaldmanMichael McClure,Patti Smith. One writer, William Burroughs, a poet in his pal Jack Kerouac's praise, will be remembered in a new documentary to be featured at the upcoming Slamdance festival. Talented filmmaker Yony Leyser is asking for eleventh hour help:

    See http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/williamburroughs/william-s-burroughs-a-man-within-0upremer

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

    Photos: Gary Snyder, Amiri Baraka, Anne Waldman courtesy of Chris Felver

  • Up_in_the_airxxx
    Of all the movies at holiday time, Up in the Air, seems poised for the most lofty awards as well as commercial success. A luncheon at 21 was planned for the movie prior to the announcement of its Golden Globes nominations. Before, we were talking about an exceptionally sophisticated indie film with a big star, George Clooney, in the lead. Now we are looking at this wunder-film that hits the Zeitgeist just so, landing on every top ten list, with major Oscar potential, and yet, the celebration at 21 could not have been more grounded. 

    As it happened two years ago when director Jason Reitman had a little film called Juno, a luncheon at 21 featured their famous hamburger. Juno played winningly by Ellen Page had a hamburger phone and plastic versions were doled out for a winning ticket. Sigourney Weavergot one for her daughter Charlotte. That kvell fest proclaimed a father (producer Ivan)/ son (writer/director/producer Jason) collaboration made in heaven. With Up in the Air, the menu ratcheted up. Munching on filet mignon, sat several fathers with their spawn-so labeled by one Jenny Lumet whose father Sidney was also there-as was Arne Glimcher and son Marc, newly the father of a four-day-old son Alexander. Ah, the joys of family! 

    Father Ivan made a proud speech ending with, “and he's one hell of a writer.” Son Jason returned, and my favorite card on the credits is the one that reads, “Produced by Ivan Reitman. “ And so it went. 

    Among Jason Reitman's abundant talents is his attention to casting, and, aside from the brilliance of George Clooney, everybody's charming leading man, in Up in the Air, the women excel: Vera Farmiga, for example, proclaimed the least famous working actress some years ago in a New York Times Magazine piece just prior to her performance in The Departed. As Clooney's lover, she's smart, sassy, and sexy, a woman in control. Reitman spotted her work and wanted her for the part. 

    As to young Anna Kendrick, the director said he wrote the part for her. “Of course he didn't tell me that at the audition,” Anna said. Her role as a young protégé, a sidekick in the sloppy business of efficiently laying workers off, is sure to win her a Best Supporting Actress nomination. She is so pert and snappily efficient, she reminded me of Reese Witherspoon in Election. I get a lot of that, she said, and when I met Reese Witherspoon I told her, to wit Witherspoon replied, “You must hate that, being compared to me.” “Are you kidding,” said Kendrick, “I love that.”

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura


  • Terry Giliam If The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus is the new Wizard of Oz, as one fan enthused at the Closing Night screening at this year's Hampton's International Film Festival in October, then filmmaker Terry Gilliam is indeed the man behind the curtain. 

    “To make a film,” he said looking wizard-like in a loosely fit colorful coat at the recent Crosby Street Hotel premiere, to a crowd that included Patti Smith and Michael Stipe, “a magic mirror comes in handy–in case of tragedy.”

    Of course “Parnassus,” which opens on Christmas day, will be haunted as Heath Ledger's last movie. Through the suspension of disbelief audiences can believe, that passing the prop's threshold, the doomed actor morphs into Johnny Depp dancing with a frump who loves shoes, Jude Law on outsized stilts, and Colin Farrell ferrying the ethereal, leggy Valentina (Lily Cole) in a gondola.

    “This film is death and love,” said Gilliam noting the bittersweet: out of an unpredictable untoward event comes the love of the three actors who stepped in. Some fans cannot think of the film in any other way. 

    Gilliam's vision is indeed amazing, taking the dreamy psychedelic phantasmagoria of his earlier classics, Brazil and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, to a new level in modern day London juxtaposed with the antique carnival world of Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), in a father-daughter story, and a Faustian bargain with Mr. Nick (Tom Waits). 

    The celebration had its own devil's pact, and a tale of father and daughters, featuring a special customized cake (www.BCakeNY.com) commissioned by his daughter Holly. Daughter Amy is one of the film's producers. And for a touch of real magic Gilliam told me with a nod to “Fear and Loathing,” he found out after his writing this script (with Charles McKeown), the late author Hunter S. Thompson had lived on Parnassus Street in San Francisco
  • Eli Wallach At 94, the irrepressible Eli Wallach tells a good story. Of the film clips shown in the “Tennessee Williams
    on Screen and Stage” evening at the Times Center, part of the Museum of the Moving Image Series, the one of Baby Doll was the most provocative. A young sly Eli Wallach seduces a naive Carroll Baker. As Eli tells it, the Catholic Church banned the film saying anyone who sees it may be excommunicated, and it was sold out for the first 3 weeks. Just before, his wife Ann Jackson, sounding a bit like a Tennessee heroine, had taken the podium to tell her story of first meeting Tennessee, but then forgetting: “Sorry, we are unprepared.”

    In fact, this special night was to honor the iconic playwright, newly inducted into the Poet's Corner and feted throughout this his centennial year. With anecdotes galore, like Eli telling Rose Tattoo ingénue Maureen Stapleton's bon mot when she first met Tennessee: “he looked more like an Ohio,” this team was more than prepared.

    Clips from a new movie, The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond, to
    open on December 30, with a screenplay by Williams who died in 1983, were on the program.
    This was one of several scripts, written for Elia Kazan, never produced. Starring an outstanding Bryce Dallas Howard with an excellent Ellen
    Bursty
    n, the film features characters reminiscent of the dramatist's
    most haunting women, Blanche Dubois of Streetcar, both Amanda and Laura
    from Glass Menagerie, women of extraordinary power and dreams with no
    access to a world in which to realize them. This fine film illustrates
    a larger Williams picture of the South and the decline of its
    pretensions and provincial world view.

    Scenes from The Rose Tattoo, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, as well as Marlon Brando as Stanley to Vivien Leigh's Blanche punctuated a panel discussion that included Howard, Burstyn, director Jodie Markell, Elaine Stritch, Wallach, and moderated by Charles Isherwood. Ellen Burstyn says of Elaine Stritch in hat and necktie, she's the only actress I know who gets a laugh just sitting down. And so this delightful and poignant evening went.

    The actors emphasized Williams' gift: Ellen Burstyn: “The language carries you.” And Elaine Stritch: “To a fine actor, doing Tennessee Williams, you're finally home.”

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura

  • Nine En route to the premiere afterparty in a cab, we were debating: which production number in Nine was best. Kate Hudson in white fringe doing go go (this is the '60's), a boa clad Judi Dench reminiscing about the Follies Bergere, kittenish Penelope Cruz making love to hot pink satin crooning “My Darling, whose afraid to kiss your toes?” Any one would get your vote. Fact is, this movie based on a show, an homage to Fellini's 8 1/2, starring a stunning Daniel Day Lewis as Guido Contini, a world-class filmmaker and liar with a world-class creative block, is so breathtakingly entertaining, to pick is moot.

    I went for Marion Cotillard. As the long-suffering wife Luisa, she sings demurely, “My husband rarely comes to bed/ He makes movies instead” and then vamps, “Take it All,” as the movie flits fickle between black & white and color.

    Introducing at the Ziegfeld, Harvey Weinstein got laughs from the huge crowd including Tony Bennett, Tommy Tune, Phyllis Newman, Marty Richards, Oliver Stone, Julian Schnabel, Tovah Feldshuh, Tobey Maguire, complaining this film of all was most difficult to make, seeing these actors plus Fergie, Nicole Kidman, and Sophia Loren everyday. He also spoke of the bittersweet, how Anthony Minghella had worked on the screenplay and then died unexpectedly, “so full of life,” and when Weinstein arrived in London for the funeral, he received the manilla envelop with completed script.

    This being a Rob Marshall film, many wanted the razzle dazzle of Chicago-Nine is it and more.

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura


  • DavidMamet David Mamet does not so much explore the title topic of his new play as eviscerate it. Despite the brevity, an hour and 47 minutes with intermission, I was exhausted/ exhilarated by his familiar tropes: the rapid-fire dialogue, the non-PC conceits. We are in the era when blacks can do anything whites can do, achieve high office (a la Obama), become a fashion icon (a la Michelle), rule media empires (Oprah), engage in marital improprieties (Woods), and get away with murder (O. J. lingers). 

    This is the American way: None of these freedoms now surprise anyone, and yet, in preparing a case, when a senior white male lawyer suggests to a junior female in his firm that she, being petite and pretty and black, should model an important piece of evidence, a tell-tale red sequined sheath worn by a black woman alleging rape by a wealthy white client, Mamet's searing vision makes us aware of just how far we go, where we are in our subconscious vs. our language, unrepressed and hanging hideous in the air. 

    This is also a time when the movie Precious– the writer, director, and producers all black–raises the haunches of the community for pandering in stereotypes. No matter how well reviewed, how humanistic these characters are deemed, many refuse to see it, suggesting limits in stories where race is an issue, no matter who tells them.

    In the words of David Alan Grier's character Henry Brown, “Do you know what a white man can tell a black man about race?  Nothing.” Is this playwright speaking about himself?

    Here directing his own drama, Mamet-in this well-staged, concise play, his pitch-perfect quartet (the superb ensemble: James Spader, Kerry Washington, and Richard Thomas joining David Alan Grier) illustrates just how skin-deep gestures regarding race remain as we operate in our little verbal fiefdoms. 

    Regina Weinreich

    Graphic Design: Salpeter Ventura