Monthly Archives: April 2019

End-of-the-Earth Day

Yesterday was Earth Day and I hope you had a jolly one…or a merry one…or at least a hopeful one.

Well, that’s over with now. If you need proof of that, check out Turner Classic Movies’ (TCM) schedule for tomorrow. I’m thinkin’ it must be End-of-the-Earth Day. It’s one mad scientist after another.

It’s devil bats (floppy puppets), giant shrews (big dogs with fake plastic teeth), human flies, perilous body fluids, disappearing corpses, human panthers, living heads on the wrong bodies, and of course man-made men who tap dance (“Oh, sweet mystery of life…”).

Whatta buffet of planet-threatening buffoonery.

I love it.

And I love TCM.

A few days ago, an affable representative from Metronet called on us to explain their new venture aimed at competing with Spectrum for our cable and internet service.

Janie will make that decision for us. She’s a smart modern gal who watches a wide selection of TV and visits a large number of useful websites and services, all of which make our lives infinitely better. That’s what she said.

I’m a well-oiled geezer who toddles from TCM to CNN to MLB. It’s about the same number of channels I watched when I was ten and three channels were all we had. I’m told we grow and progress, but sometimes the evidence…

As Janie absorbed the pros and cons (and prose and cons – see what I did there?) of the pleasant and earnest sales rep, I perused the list of channels offered by Metronet. It was the usual 5,436 channels.

I skipped through the 400-page document until I had assured myself that TCM, CNN, and my beloved Reds were represented.

My work here is done.

Wait!

If we switch to Metronet, will I still be able to see the Spectrum “monster” commercials? I would truly miss that sandstorm-loving mummy and his murderous puppet friend.

That might be a deal-breaker for me.

And that friends, is why we let Janie make those decisions.

Happy End-of-the-Earth Day!

Happy Rumors

Janie and I had a hilarious night at the theater last week. We attended Woodford Theater’s production of Neil Simon’s Rumors.

This is theater craft at a very high level.

First (and always first) there’s the playwright. Neil Simon is nothing if not a craftsman. He’s successfully written relentless froth and relentless foolishness and relentless heartbreak and relentless hope…and made us laugh with every step along the way.

And then there’s Rumors.

Relentless farce…there’s no other kind of farce.

It never stops. It’s one implausible twist after another, never giving you or the characters onstage a moment to recognize the implausibility of what’s happening. Just gasp another breath before the next guffaw.

It is a genius of craft, and Mr. Simon nails it.

This production nails it as well. The director, Joe Ferrell, has to be a relentless traffic cop, keeping things moving at a terrific pace (no time to think, remember?) while maintaining clarity between moments and relationships and physical mayhem.

Check, check, and check.

This collection of actors seemed to enjoy each other’s company immensely. The audience felt comfortably ensconced in a nest of affection. Nothing serious is happening here no matter how seriously we’re doing it.
Relax…and try to keep up.

By the time Carmen Geraci tells his second act story (perfectly, by the way), we have fallen in love with the foibles of the ensemble. Deafness, gunshots, blood, hunger, thirst, suicide, marital betrayal (imagined and real), police interrogation, and career destruction…
…meh…
…nothing serious happening here…
…keep laughing and move on.

And then there’s the set.

The designer of this production, Todd Pickett, understands farce.

Farce demands doors.
Lots of doors.
Doors that work fiercely. They can be slammed repeatedly and quickly to punctuate and define beats in the show.

Farce demands room to run, or at least dash. Everything has to done right now in farce. There’s no moseying in farce.

Farce is an onslaught. It must fling color at the audience.

Check, check, and check.

Thank you, Mr. Pickett.

Thank you, cast.

Thank you, Mr. Ferrell…
…again.