Dita Von Teese on Individual Expression

"You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there's still going to be somebody who hates peaches." -- Dita Von Teese (Performer and Author of "Your Beauty Mark: The Ultimate Guide to Eccentric Glamour")

Love Must Win

I've been out of commission for longer than usual, and I admit that part of that had to do with the Orlando shooting.  Once that happened, it felt like writing about anything else was pointless, and that writing about the shooting felt just as pointless, because within two days it felt like everything that could and should be said had long been expressed.  And yet, it has meant too much to me, and to so many people I care about and feel kinship with, for me to ignore it.

I admit that when I first heard about the shooting, I thought "oh Lord.  Here's another."  I just wanted to shove it out of mind.  I didn't want to unpack it and explore the personal significance of this act, and that this happened at a gay club.  And it wouldn't be that difficult to push this out of my mind really, to distract myself and move on.   This world is full of distractions and we as Americans are great at giving into them.  Food, sex, television, alcohol, drugs, sensationalism.  All of these are distractions, and I avail myself of a number of them.  Why look at this and feel real feelings about this when there is pain everywhere and we feel pointless to stop it?  It's just as easy to grab a slice of pizza, or have a shot, or change the channel.

And there's another reason it could be very easy to brush off this act of violence (after showing the appropriate amount of outward sadness so that people don't think I'm callous).  It's a sad, but true fact, that I am becoming deadened to violence.

Aren't we all?  We hear numbers on the news, shootings, violent beatings, tremendous acts of hatred.  At what point did these living human beings become somehow "fictionalized" in my mind?  Is it a defense mechanism?  Surely.  Is it partly from being inundated by violence from the media?  Yes.  Is it my duty to overcome this deadening of my senses?  To realize the truth and the importance of these people's lives?  Absolutely.  Because if we just think to ourselves "how sad" and then push it away so we don't have to deal with the reality of it?  Nothing will change.  Politicians will make pawns of them.  The news media will sensationalize them.  And some people will own this violence as if it were there's.

All of these avoid the fact that these very real people are gone and have left very real people with a massive sense of loss.   I cannot claim to know every complexity behind what happen.  I only know that this was a crime of hate, targeted at gay people (but believe me, the man didn't need to be an Isis sympathizer to feel hatred and fear towards gay people, as there are many people who do that and rationalize it by saying they are Christian).  As a gay person myself, I felt it important to pay respect to the people who were out living there truth on the night they died.  To make their lives as real as they could be for myself.  To mourn them, and to weep for the people left behind.

I went to the vigil at The Stonewall Inn, and while it was a volatile event, full of a wide variety of emotions, I am so glad I went.  I was able to get right into the heart of the crowd, about one hundred feet from the speakers.  Yes, It threatened to become a political rally other than an act of remembrance and respect, and there were moments when I thought that some of the angrier people in the crowd were going to lash out and bring about more violence (these things have a way of feeding on each other.  "You hit me, I will hit someone else) but I was grateful that in spite of the anger and fear, that love and hope and respect won out.  Because as people we owe it to ourselves to feel all the emotions that these events stir in us.  And I can only hope that we can feel all of those emotions and still choose to love.  Because without the understanding of what happened, without the reaching out, it is too easy to dismiss what happened.  It is too easy to go on as before.  But without the choosing of love, it is too easy to devolve into more lashing out.

I do want to share a couple of the pieces related to the tragedy that have moved me and speak to the truth of the loss and what we must take from it far better than I can.  The first is a small speech from Stephen Colbert:

The second is a beautiful piece by Justin Torres printed in The Washington Post entitled In Praise of Latin Night at the Queer Club.

Splash...Again.

Yesterday I opened my roommate's Entertainment Weekly and learned, a little late in the game as apparently the news has been out for about a week, that Brian Grazer is involved in a re-make of Splash, the 1984 rom-com he produced and developed about a naive mermaid and a lonely New Yorker.  And according to Grazer, the preparations are very hush-hush and he can't talk about it much at all.  He did say there "is a star involved" and that they are inspired more by the original concept of the movie when it was still titled-- get ready for it- Wet.  Oh, and one more thing!  There's a twist to this version, as it's more from "the perspective of..." and this is where Grazer truly hushed up.



Now, Splash is one of my favorite films from my childhood years.  I saw it thirty four times before I stopped counting, and Daryl Hannah was my first childhood crush (unless you count the confusing tingling that happened every time Tommy from Alice walked into Mel's Diner).  I collected every article she appeared in... her cover feature in Rolling Stone?  It went into the Daryl Hannah scrapbook.

The article from People? Into the scrapbook.

Everywhere she was, I sought her out.  And for awhile, she was EVERYWHERE.  Clan Of The Cave Bear, Blade Runner, Reckless  (that last one I had to wait a while to see because it was a relatively filthy romance about "reckless" teen love against all odds).

But it was more than just Daryl Hannah  that won me over.  II already had a mermaid obsession, and the film itself is such a charming, quirky, uniquely eighties comedy.  It has a combination of comedic talents that I can't imagine them finding again.  Tom Hanks?  John Candy?  Eugene Levy?  Dodie Goodman??? And it's such a hopeful film.  Stories of mermaids and mortals up to that point, had all ended in tragedy.  SPOILER ALERT:  The fact that this one ends in such a sweet and wonderful way, with the man for once leaving everything behind for love-  It got me.  

Today, it's pretty easy to forget what a massive hit it was during its initial release.  It was one of the top ten grossing films of the year, the inspiration for a number of supernatural rom-coms like Date With An Angel, and Daryl Hannah's High Spirits, and "spawned" a sequel (which fell through when Tom Hanks couldn't do it and became a T.V. movie). And the film's ironic joke of naming the mermaid after Madison Avenue caused the name Madison to be one of the most popular names for girls in the early 21st century.  In fact, Disney's Ariel was originally a blond, but they made her a redhead in order to differentiate her from Madison.  

So, I love the film.  But I am not upset about this remake.  This new film will not ruin the impact of the original, and I think art inspired by art is an amazing thing.  Yes, I am tired of re-makes in general because in so many cases they seem like a money grab rather than a creative endeavor, and the success of the new Splash will largely depend on whether or not they can make a different kind of magic and tell a different story, that really needs to be told, and is not different just for the sake of being different. 

Which leads me to this twist that Grazer hinted at.  "the perspective of..."What?  The perspective of the mermaid?  I mean, the beautiful thing about the original is that it split the stories perspective.  It was about both of them.  Yes, Alan Bauer is the protagonist, but the movie is just as much about the sacrifices she is willing to make.  And if you tell it completely from her perspective, you get a modern day "Little Mermaid" (the Disney version with the happy ending where she doesn't get rejected by the man she sacrificed everything for and then turns into sea foam/a water spirit).

There is speculation that it will be gender switched, and about a merman, rather than a mermaid, which could frankly be a lot of fun.  Of course, then you have to deal with a lot of gender politics because the original was actually a bit unusual in that it's a story about a man giving up on the ideas of the "perfect" woman and opening himself up to real, messy love in which you are equal partners.  Having a story about a woman who's life is changed by the appearance of a merman, whom she then alters her entire existence to be with? Blah.  Been there.  Hate the message.

Regardless of how the film ultimately turns out, I'll be watching and reading to see how the story develops.

Happy 94th Birthday, Judy!!!

When it comes to paying tribute to Judy on her birthday, it is really difficult to pick just one moment that perfectly demonstrates her contribution to entertainment, and to performing.  A lot of this is simply because there are so many different facets to her.  It's hard to find a clip that captures everything, and that I haven't already shared here at one point.  That being said, here is a vocal track of Garland singing You Made Me Love You on The Bing Crosby Show at a point in her career when she was physically robust and her interpretive skills had been freed from the girl next door image she was tied to at MGM.  It's a fresh, more grown-up Garland.  Enjoy!

Night Of A Thousand Judys: Part 3

Seeing as I've dragged this subject out longer than was probably necessary, I will not belabor my feelings on the show itself, however...there are some parts of it  that I feel really need to be praised, especially those moments, and those performers who approached the material with a true heart.  
Surely, one of the reasons Garland touched a chord with the gays is that she was an incredibly sensitive and emotional person, and a brilliant artist who was courageous enough to let that emotion be her artistic medium.   As a sensitive little boy learning that there was a side of me that should be hidden and repressed, when I found this woman who blatantly tossed that philosophy aside and used all of her surging emotions as a kind of super power?  It hit me that there was a different way to be, and it was just one of the things that made her my hero.

There were some pretty powerful entertainers onstage who illustrated this principal to perfection.  
The host, Justin Sayre, as much as anyone, spoke his truth up on that stage  He opened the show in a black flowing blouse trimmed with beads, sporting high heel pumps, and backed by a bevy of lanky young dancing boys.  He cavorted, he schmoozed, and he sang I Feel A Song Coming On both reveling in the joy of the number, and without a hint of irony.  It was one of the most successful productions of the concert and really got me geared up for a great show.  Throughout the rest of the evening Justin was candid, vulnerable, self deprecating, and really respectful of Garland, as well as the issue that the show is raising funds for, to provide support for homeless LGBTQ youth.

Justin Sayre, Kevin Quilon, Adam Perry, Ryan Steele, and Charlie Williams perform "I Feel A Song Coming On" (photo by Stephen Sotokoff)

Other highlights included Barrett Foa,  singing a sweet and sincere version of I Happen to Like New York, and T. Oliver Reid really nailing the visceral excitement of Judy's Come Rain Or Come Shine--- Sidebar: I couldn't help but notice that the man I couldn't help but notice that the man performed in a bright white tuxedo, and when he came out for the finale, an ensemble sing a-long, he had switched to a black tux.  He was the only one in the concert, that I noticed, who worked in a costume change.  Good on you, T. Oliver Reid.,---   and a band that really soared.

One of the big musical discoveries, for me, was Gabrielle Stravelli.  She sang I Could Go On Singing effortlessly, with a true respect for the material, a gorgeous instrument, and with an approach that made the song her own, and yet, stayed true to the spirit of the original.  She didn't showboat or place vocal stylings above substance, she just let it out.  Every beat, every note, was golden.  I will absolutely be seeking her out in the future.

Words Said On The Manhattan Bound N Train Yesterday Morning At 8:07

(A  shaggy grey hair,ed man walks into the N Train at the Queensborough Plaza stop on a busy Tuesday morning.  He has a booming French accent, and wears a soiled trench coat)

Oh look!!!  You are all here!  Hello America, you have arrived!  Aren't we all blessed?  Look at you.  Just look at yourselves.

(I surreptitiously, and avoiding the crazy man's glance, look at us.  We aren't much to look at)


Aren't you lucky?  To be here?  And you are so beautiful!  And do you know who loves you?????

(I'm pretty sure I can guess)

JESUS LOVES YOU!!!!  He does!  Don't you know it!  I want you to know how much I love you, and how much Jesus does, and how great America is!  God gave his son to you!!  I think we should all sing.  Let's sing and pray!  Our father holy god Jesus!  Thank you thank you thank you...

(It's at this pint that I stop pretending to be tuned out and actually tune out.  And yes, this may make me seem like a cynical person, but I don't need some asshole shouting at me about the sacrifice of Jesus on a Wednesday morning at 8:07.  I just want to play my fucking Wizard of Oz match three game and get to work)

That's it America!  Thank you, Thanks to Jesus and have a wonderful day!!  Don't forget that Jesus loves you, and pray everyday!

(He exits.  A moment goes by.  I breathe a mental sigh of relief. He enters in the next door)

Hello, America!  You made it!! (stops for a second) Have I already been in this car???

(Against my better judgement, I respond- "Yes, you have.  You were just here." It's the Jurassic Park equivalent of moving when the fucking T-Rex is sniffing three feet away from you. At this time the doors close and the train moves on)

I was???  I was!!! Well, goodness that's ok!  (Looking toward me) Big Man!!!

(I despise being called 'big man'.  Loathe it)

You're so tall, Mr. Man!  You know what?  You are taller than JESUS!!!!!  Do you know what you look like?  (I involuntarily shudder, and part of me wants to tell him that it's not like Jesus was on record as being that tall so being taller than him is not a great feat) You look like an Oak tree!!!!

And you (he turns to a twenty-something woman with her boyfriend) You look like a cloud!

(She mumbles, "A what?)

(loud assertive man with the French accent whispers) You look like a cloud.  (He points his finger close to her nose, like he's going to "boop it".  He does not "boop" it.  At this point the train stops at 49th, where it's thankfully time for me to make a hasty exit.  I hear him as I leave) 

Well, goodbye America, and thank you!  And don't forget who loves you!!  It's JEEEEEESUSSSSSS!

Night Of A Thousand Judys: Part 2

I ventured out to Merkin Hall on Monday night, after a stop at The Night Hotel on 45th for a glass of wine.  The hotel is this dark little glam spot on 45th street that seems like, at 5:00PM all the vampires who make this place their home will just now being stirring around in their coffins to suck the world dry.  The logo even looks like a graphic designer vampire crafted it...

The bar within the hotel is called "Red Moon" and has an equally creepy logo...

Now, in case you are wondering.  This whole mid-nineties glam vampire, "this is a place where human sheep come to lose their mortal souls" vibe???  I LOVED it.  I like a dash of danger in my bars, and I'd been told that the waitresses were very welcoming, and that if I sat at the bar they would make sure I was well taken care of.  They didn't disappoint.  They were both so sweet, and seemed to take a genuine interest, chatted me up like they were hosting a very intimate party, and the glasses of wine were generously poured, with great happy hour prices.  

This particular night my soul was left intact.  No wan and pale emo man slathered in eye makeup up lured me up to his room.  Instead, I skipped on out into the night and headed toward Merkin Hall! Yes, that's its name, and yes, many a merkin joke was made throughout the evening.

I arrived about twenty minutes early, which was plenty of time to check out the surroundings and the masses of gay folk who had attended the benefit.  There were loads of men in blue gingham dress shirts, and a couple of them even sported red tennis shoes.  I felt a little out of place, but only because I was alone, and didn't know anyone there.  Every one else seemed to be completely at home, or was putting up a very good front.   I headed over to the restrooms, and luckily there was a cute boy in line who I chatted with for a while, and he regaled me with the fact that this benefit was an extension of "The Meeting", a monthly show at  Joe's Pub, which pays homage to varying gay icons.  While he loved Judy, of course, he was primarily a fan of "The Meeting", and visions of me and this big hunk of inappropriately aged blond corn fed cuteness watching "Summer Stock" with me on a Wednesday evening, and of the two of us shopping picking out "His and His" throw pillows at the Jonathan Adler, well they faded.  In the meantime, I had spotted a woman near us in the corner that I recognized as an important personage in the Judy fan circles, and I'd always appreciated her level headed words, her "appropriate" levels of fandom, and her seemingly kind nature.  I wanted to introduce myself to her, but I was torn!  Salvage my future relationship with this cute boy?  Or meet my future Judy fan bosom buddy?  Cute boy?  Or Judy friend??

Judy Garland by Pablo Lobato

I went with the Judy fan, and while she was wonderful and sweet, I worry that in my excitement to meet her I overwhelmed and terrified the shit out of her.  This is something I've been known to do.  When I like someone, I cannot hide it.  It kind of oozes out of me, and if you aren't ready for that kind of puppy like affection, it might be...off putting?  Well, there was time to worry about that later.

In the meantime, I was enjoying the show.  All the fancy gays preening and parading, the art work up for auction...   here I was admittedly surprised to find the offerings rather sparse.  There were about five pieces up, one of which I recognized from press at last year's auction, and one which was essentially a glorified ad for the event.  There were two pieces there, however, that were pretty terrific.  One was this gorgeous caricature of Judy from Meet Me In St. Louis by Pablo Lobato, who's work has been featured in many publications, including "Entertainment Weekly".  At the beginning of the show it was already up to $500 and was sure to rise by twice that towards the end of the evening.  The other piece I loved was by Felix D'eon, an artist who does these very detailed, retro  works (some of them slightly obscene) in which he queerifies mid-twentieth century comic book art and Greek mythology, among other things.  I had actually purchased one of his sweeter, more tame pieces awhile back, and the piece on display was a playful drawing of a youngish boy in Dorothy drag and a young man flirtatiously grabbing his wig.  Again, if I'd had money to spare...Incidentally, the photo  I snapped of the piece does not do it justice, so rather than post a blurry representation of his work, I give you this, as a prime example of his stellar illustrations...

"Spaceman Embrace" By Felix D'eon

Before I knew it, they were playing chimes over the loudspeaker and dimming the lights to let us know it was time to head into the theatre, and when I sat down in the balcony I was pleased that I had a great view of the stage, and was flush with excitement for the show to come.

Coming Soon:  The show itself!

Close, But No Representation

This is not the post where I ruminate on The Night Of A Thousand Judys, though that will likely come tonight.  At the moment, however, it takes the kind of thought and care that I simply cannot muster.  I've realized that when writing reviews I am often less than completely candid.  Not that I don't tell the truth as I see it, but, as I assume many critics do, I often feel the need to soften my negative thoughts on a theatrical experience, especially being a performer myself, and knowing what it is like to latch onto a pithy comment tossed off by a reviewer and letting it gnaw away at my mind like its the one bit of truth in a world I've built on delusions of my talent.  At this particular moment I just can't hack the pressure, dear reader, and would prefer to let my mind take me where it will.

Right now I'm thinking a lot about the Tony ceremony this Sunday and how it will totally fuck with my diet, as a few of us are getting together to view them, and there will be food and drinks galore.  Seeing as the ceremony itself isn't likely to be the most exciting (much as I respect the show, watching the people from Hamilton get up and thank everybody over and over is likely to get monotonous real quick) I'll likely spend half the night with my mouth wrapped around the spout of the margarita machine, and the other half spooning down mouthfuls of crab dip.  And yes, glory be, there will be a fucking margarita machine.

__________________

As far as my own actor's journey, I recently got some disappointing news.  While on the one hand, it's a move in the right direction--- agent takes notice--- when an agent hands you his card after an audition and asks you to call him the next day, what I am hoping for is not to hear the words "keep in touch and let me know the next time you are in something".  Yes, as he said, it is difficult to tell that much about a performer from 32 bars, but I can't help but think that if I'd really been good, 32 bars should have been enough.

I mean, people do get hired for jobs based on 32 bars.  And yes, I understand that part of it is who you know, and that 32 bars getting you a callback for lots more exposure, and so much is based on the randomness of how a particular performance hits a particular viewer at that moment, but Barbra Streisand, I have to imagine, would have been called in after thirty-two bars.  I know, I know, I am not Barbra Streisand.  This is not a newsflash.  But I do think I'm talented, and I do think, from some of the feedback I've received that I have enough talent to swim in this sea.  Am I fooling myself?  I honestly don't think so.  But then there is that thing they call "grit".  "Grit" is all the rage these days.  It's the new buzz word.  Grit.

The fucking grit factor.  Stick to-itedness.  Persistence.  Call it what you will, think of it as the self help trend of the moment, this shit seems to matter as much, if not more than talent.  I mean it's a cliche, all these talented people who never make it because they can't get seen, or can't even bring themselves to finish a piece of art.  As many have said, "half the battle is showing up".  So, I can't let this get me down.  I have to take this as a sign of good things to come, encouragement to keep honing my skills and cultivate this new connection along with others like it.  The only way to work here is to keep working at getting work.  This is something that seems at the moment like a daunting prospect, but, can be broken down into some smaller and mundane tasks.  Right?  "Keep coming back!!  It works if you work it!!"  Do I sound like I believe this yet?

I mean, I have made progress.  In the past 9 months I've gotten my Equity card, booked a couple of gigs, done about twenty auditions, met some people, begun compiling my book, worked with a coach... this is all part of it.  And in spite of the feeling that my journey is nearly over and I'm a dinosaur crawling toward a downward spiraling asteroid, it's possible that this is just the beginning of my journey.

Night of A Thousand Judys: Part One

I just bought tickets to the 6th Annual Night of A Thousand Judys here in New York City.  It's an annual benefit concert which pays tribute to Judy and The Ali Forney Center, which houses and protects homeless LGBT youth.  

I debated going, because the tickets in the orchestra are not cheap, and it is often torture for me to watch other people sing Judy's material.  Too often they attempt an imitation, or try to show her up , like Rufus Wainwright does by professing to love her, but making snide comments about liquor and pills.  This seems to come from the right place, and hopefully the performers will honor her by using the material to relate it to their own lives, and be emotionally open with the audience.  That's the best way to honor her, in my opinion.  What tipped the balance in favor of my going was the fact that I've been following this event for the past six years, reading about it online and thinking "if only".  Well, my "if only" is going to be Monday night, and you can join me in the balcony if you would like.

Of added benefit is the appearance of Barrett Foa, whom I've always thought was dreamy to the extreme.  So if it gives me a discomforting sensation being there by myself, or if the performers are less than respectful, I will just lose myself in Barrett's bespectacled blue eyes and pillow lips.  

But in truth, I am pretty excited.  The featured performers I'm familiar with are stellar, and there was a recent article published in which the stars of the concert extolled Judy and how she raised the musical theatre bar.  I'm sure that by then end of the evening I will be wondering how I could have thought about missing it.  I mean, after all, one of the entire reasons I'm in New York is to be experiencing the things I've always read about and wanted to participate in, so now that I'm here, the only thing stopping me is me.  Full update on the concert in the next couple of days.  

A Double Dose Of Judy

Found a couple of Judy clips that I had to share.  One was made by TCM, featuring Judy as their star of April (so it's out of date in that aspect) and captures a piece of what makes her so thrilling.  I could watch it again and again...

The other is an old clip of Judy's T.V. show, featuring Ray Bolger.  It's so off the cuff and in the moment, so potently charming that I had to post it.  Yes, she's a little throaty in this clip (which doesn't really get going until about a minute in), but no it doesn't keep her from being captivating.