Category: Random Thoughts

Draw Me to Life

My friend Kim blogged this post about Pixar director Mark Walsh, whose recent short Partysaurus Rex is playing before Finding Nemo in 3D.

Here’s a peek at Mark’s film.

I love animation.  Pixar in particular.  But something I miss – something I think a lot of my generation misses – are the Howard Ashman/Alan Menken animated movie musicals from the 90’s.  Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin.  I’m gonna throw Lion King in there as well, though that’s Elton John and Tim Rice, and was the beginning of a drift away from true “musical structure.”

Howard Ashman

If you’ve seen Waking Sleeping Beauty, you know that Peter Schneider was the man who spearheaded Disney Animation’s journey back from the brink.  (Anecdote: I had the pleasure to work with Peter Schneider recently.  The man responsible for my childhood happiness. It was like meeting Willy Wonka.)

  It was Peter’s idea to hire musical theatre writer Howard Ashman to create these animated films.  And what Ashman brought with him was an impeccable sense of musical structure – literally, story-structure specific to musicals.

To me, nothing kills a musical like bad structure.  An “I Want” song has to be there.  HAS TO.  It can be disguised, it can be non traditional.  But you need a song that defines the main character(s) want.

If you think of a musical like a house, then this is, oh I don’t know, Dance of the Vampires:

And this is Beauty and the Beast:

But I digress.

My point is how much I love animation.  I love it because of the endless possibilities – because you can go to a spaceship where human being are fat slobs; or the bottom of the ocean where an orchestra of fish accompanies a singing crab, or a rat can become a great chef in Paris.  Even TV shows like Family Guy and South Park (and Simpsons before them) have characters randomly break out into musical numbers, or have characters graphically murdered, or all sorts of nonsensical things occur.

And these days, nonsense is the only way to really take a look at what’s happening around us.  We live in such absurd times.  We might as well be animated.

Sorkinese Spoken Here

I would never refer to myself as a Hardcore Sorkin Fan, but it’s hard not to admire the guy for his style and prolificness.  I never fully caught The West Wing train, but I do (mostly) love what I’ve seen of The Newsroom.

But his ability, and courage really, to deal with difficult, complicated political issues while maintaining an emotionally dramatic arc and appealing to a fairly wide demographic is truly commendable.

Especially when this is what his writing can achieve:

Now that’s what I call the power of art!

Musical Comedy

People are sometimes impressed that I can play piano and sing at the same time.  Being that I don’t find it very difficult, I’m not very impressed that I can do that.

I am impressed whenever I consider myself – or anyone else – to be funny in a song.  “A Little Priest” – From Sweeny Todd –  was the first time, I can recall, where I thought – these are just jokes! One after the other! A song had never made me laugh out loud like that before.  I think rhyming while being funny is very impressive.

But even more than that – I think playing an instrument and simply telling jokes is downright genius.  The juxtaposition between the structured nature of music and the unexpected nature of joke telling just tickles me.

It might seem easier than the other two above, but the timing for comedy and the timing for music don’t always line up the way you’d want them to, so the fact that these two men do it and do it so well…I’m very impressed.  


Come see me be funny away from the piano in The Kid with the Keys next Sunday, September 16th 2012 at Sterling’s Upstairs at the Federal in North Hollywood. Call 818-754-8700 for reservations.

It’s Complicated

Last Friday I went to the Hollywood Bowl for the very first time.  I know, I know – I’ve lived in LA for ten years, shame on me, blah blah, shut the fuck up.

The infamous night when the Bowl spontaneously exploded.

It was the annual John Williams event, where Maestro Williams conducts the LA Phil as they play any number of his greatest hits, including of course the themes to Star Wars, Superman, the Olympics, and E.T.  In fact, as it’s the 30th Anniversary of E.T., Spielberg lent the Bowl a remastered version of the last reel of the film, so they played it while the LA Phil scored it live.  I mean….

I love John Williams.  No.  I fucking love John Williams.  His contribution, not only to film music, but to popular concert music at large cannot be understated.  Kids as young as 3 or 4 left the Bowl singing his tunes.  His mastery of creating palpable tension and release through music is admirable, as is his ability to create countless memorable earworms.  Seriously – that shit is witchcraft.  How does he do it time and time again!?

What stuck me this time around was his love themes, of which he played (I think) a few, but one in particular that I recognized outright.  It was the love theme from Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark.

What struck me most about hearing this theme was the churning I felt inside.  It got me all twisted up.  It’s not an “easy” melody.  You’ll notice, for example, how the melody never quite rests on the “home” note. (Warning: music theory coming up…) The opening figure dances around the 3rd and 5th scale tones, leaning back and forth on half-steps.  Translation: you get a sense of yearning, while never fulling feeling entirely happy or satisfied.  It’s almost tragic.

And then (at :29) notice how the strings are so fragile and frightened to enter.  I mean – is this not love??  Doesn’t it toss and turn you about, and make you feel melancholy and frightened, and yet make you yearn for more and more?

I’m not sure I’ve heard a musical theatre love song that quite captures that same essence.  The closest I can think of in recent years would be “The Word of Your Body” from Spring Awakening.  Otherwise, musical theatre love songs tend to be too pat, and, as anyone who’s experience love will tell you, love is anything but obvious.

Styles change, tastes change, but one thing that doesn’t change and has never changed through out our history is human emotion.  So moving forward, I challenge myself, and all Millennial composer/lyricists, to capture love in its true, complicated form.

Not Such a Crock

I love cooking, and I love eating.  Thankfully the two go together well.

But when I cook, it’s difficult for me to do it small. I’m not a “heat it up in the micro” kinda guy.  I chop, I prep, I marinade. I like fresh, I like whole, I like unprocessed.

In a time crunch – or while I’m in 6+ hours of rehearsal each day, such as now – when I get home, I don’t have the energy to do what I usually do.

Enter the slow cooker.
There was a time that slow cooking was for moms, aunts, grandmas – anyone who might embroider or stitch a sampler. But now – even HIPSTERS use crockpots!

There’s really nothing to not love. You chop your ingredients, you dump them in the pot, set the timer, and you’re set. And my biggest misconception was that slowcooking meant just soups and stews – which is a huge turn-off.  However, this is not so! Last week I did ribs, I did carrots, I did beets.  All of which was amazing.

I found a great recipe blog for crockpots here.  I’ve done about 5 recipes and I’d give her 4 out of 5 stars.

This week’s recipe – sweet potato chili!

Oh, The Academic and the Artist Can Be Friends

Or can they?

On Monday I had an interesting interaction with a Professor from Stanford.

I’ve recently begun moving forward on my latest musical project, Joe Schmoe Saves the World.  Part of the story in the show takes place in Iran, just prior to the 2011 “Day of Rage” protest.

Researching this aspect of the story has been difficult at the beginning because, frankly, I just have no clue where to look, where my focus ought to lie. There’s a LOT of complexity to the situation in Iran and there’s a lot to take in.

This lead me to want to speak to a person, a human being.  Personal interaction allows for shortcuts, tangents, anecdotes – things that BBC articles don’t have.

I was put in touch with a Professor at Stanford who totally fit the bill for who I was looking to talk to. He was Iranian, had been jailed in Iran for teaching Marxist theory through metaphor, had written about Iran’s modernity.  A perfect guy to get some answers from.

But I forgot one thing – he was an academic.

Now – I may not have “represented” myself well.  Meaning – I may have looked young, and sounded naive, asking him my questions.  Needless to say, I don’t think he took me very seriously.  Particularly when he began to lecture me on how difficult it was to get theatre produced these days.

Um.  Ya think?

Anyway.  He began most answers to my questions with “well, there’s no short answer to this question.”  I would ask him, for example, if there one piece of material in particular that he found useful in research on the aesthetics of dissent, and he would say, “I mean, there are hundreds of books written on this topic.”  Which made me feel like Katie Couric interviewing Sarah Palin about which newspapers she reads.  “If you could name just one.“

I did get some useful information out of him, such as how they recently implemented a law forbidding the sale of neckties in Iran.  But most of his interaction with me felt like condescension.  How could I possibly know what I was doing, let alone know how to do it well?

Here was a man who was used to being the center of his own bubble.  He was used to there being a right and a wrong answer, something that is more or less antithetical to a creative process – a process the requires remaining open to all possibilities.

At the end of the meeting, he ushered me out in order to prepare for his next appointment – he was being skyped into a meeting in Iran.  He slipped a tie on as we walked out.  He looked at me, finally allowing himself to be a person and not an educator.  “I have to wear a tie.  Just to spite the fuckers.”

Something about Twenty-Somethings

I recently made a comment on the Book Face that seemed like perhaps needed a bit further clarification.

I had come across an article about a new musical being produced by young (read: my age, which may or may not be young depending on whether or not you are a hater) musical theatre writers.  The summary of this musical hinged on a plot about 6 or 12 or 100 “twentysomethings” figuring something out about life before making their first steps in the real world.

And I wrote: “I think it’s time for younger musical theatre writers to remove the word “twentysomethings” from our vocabulary.”

Afterwards, all with good intention and good taste, some people took me to task for various things.  A few people took me to ask for seeming to include myself as a “younger” writer.  Others apparently thought I was griping about the lack of roles in my apparent age group, which is presumably not “twentysomething.”  Fine. Har, har. Whatever.

The larger point that is being missed is this: why do contemporary writers continue to turn to this archetype of a non-idea, the story of the Twentysomething? (Who started this trend, I wonder?  Jonathan Larson with RENT?)  I’ve written about this issue before and its one of the few things that continue to eat away at me every time I come across it.

To me, the word itself gives away its inherent flaw.  It’s vague.  It’s “sorta-kinda.”  It attempts to be universal, and in doing so utterly fails – as all non-specific things do.

I’m all for exploring post-adolescences.  There’s nothing inherently wrong with a story about young people coming-of-age in the world.  However, when you start off with characters who are defined simply by their general age as a shorthand into their character…well, I find that nearly insulting.  What does being a twenty-something really, truly, SPECIFICALLY mean?  The truth: nothing.

Regardless of who started the trend, I say we vow to end it.   Let’s once and for all send this word to the chopping block where so many other vague words have gone before.

What do you think?  Does this bother you as much as me?  What do you hate to see writers write about?

This is Theatre

I’m very grateful to have the opportunity to see a lot of new plays and musicals.  However, it’s an unfortunately rare experience, given that I see so much, that something really blows me away – particularly, I’m sorry to say, in Los Angeles.  And it’s an even rarer experience to have it happen twice in one month.

Last night I saw Cornerstone Theater Company’s production of Cafe Vida, created in partnership with Homeboy Industries and Homegirl Cafe and presented by the Latino Theater Company.  Cornerstone’s unique brand of theatre incorporates individuals from the community to help tell their own stories.  Sometimes this can make for messy theatre, but often it makes for extremely exciting theatre, especially when those stories are deftly structured by an accomplished playwright, as Cafe Vida was by Lisa Loomer.

Directed by Michael John Garces, it tells the story of two Latinas from two enemy barrios in Los Angeles, who are forced to interact after being released from prison and joining Cafe Vida – a community outreach program (like Homeboy Industries and Homegirl Cafe) that provides hope, training, and support to fomerly gang-involved and recently incarcerated men and women, allowing them to redirect their lives and become contributing members of our community through restaurant services and culinary arts.

Most of the actors are from Homeboy Industries and provide raw, unpolished, but stunningly frank performances of, in some cases, their own life stories.  And these are not easy life stories to tell.  But this type of work is in essence what all theatre aspires to – the spilling forth of personal truths, truths that are almost larger-than-life in their drama and danger, truths worthy of the stage.

• • •

 A couple weeks ago I also had the pleasure of seeing Danai Gurira’s The Convert at the Kirk Douglas Theatre, a co-production with the Goodman Theatre and the McCarter Theatre.

The Convert takes places during the British occupation of Zimbabwe (1895), and tells the story of a young African woman, who comes to live with a Christian African  missionary in order to survive an undesired fate in her tribe community, pitting ancient African traditions against Western culture and Christianity.

Directed by Emily Mann, it’s a riveting three act play, that also highlights theatre at its best – no flashy sets (though beautiful!), no flashy costumes, no flashy word play and wit – but honest, engaging characters thrust into dynamic conflict with each other and the worlds around them.

What is so exciting about each of these plays, is that they each make incredible points without attempting to preach or sucker punch.  They are gritty, they are daring, and they are unapologetic.  It is not pretty, or tv-worthy.  It is not white and middle class.  It is humanity caught in the struggle of life.  This is theatre.  This is theatre.

(Photo credit: Lynette Alfaro, by John Luker; the cast of The Convert, by T. Charles Erickson)