This was my first, and quite possibly my last, Chinese New Year Parade in Chinatown. The corner of Mott and Bayard was a prime viewing spot, but there was a bit too much pre-parade aggression for my taste. Fear that you'll be trampled by a violent mob is not my idea of a super fun time. It's strange how these types of celebrations often bring out the worst in people. Something similar happened at the tree lighting ceremony at Rockefeller Center over Christmas. Yet another event I'll never attend again. At least I got to cross one more thing off of my bucket list- the dragon dance rocked!
And now for a film that I probably would never have seen, and seen repeatedly, had it not been for having an older brother (an older brother who mischievouslyenjoyed torturing me with his Bruce Lee moves)- Robert Clouse's 1973 film, Enter the Dragon:
"China all the way to New York/ I can feel the distance getting close/ You're right next to me/ But I need an airplane/ I can feel the distance as you breathe/ Sometimes I think you want me to touch you/ How can I when you build the great wall around you/ In your eyes I saw a future together/ You just look away in the distance" --Tori Amos, China
I saw this stack while walking in Riverside Park and thought it was precious. I get serious dog envy when I see people playing with their canine friends at the dog park. I start to daydream about my imaginary yellow Lab, Sundance- who wears the cutest bandana- playing frisbee with me in the park. In my daydreams he can catch and throw the frisbee. He's amazing. And I have serious cat envy when I hear about feline favoring New Yorkers not having any problems with mice. I've moved around way too much over the years to have had an animal companion. Now that I am somewhat settled for the first time in a long time, I'm beginning to consider such things. But after years of being responsible for only myself, and after years of traveling around with just a couple of bags of clothing, and after years of impending movement, it is kind of scary and unsettling to begin accumulating 'stuff' and to make the commitment of inviting an animal into your home. I love dogs and cats, but I'm more of a cat person truth be told. In fact I'm pretty damn sure I was a cat in a previous life. And my dog envy tends to end when I see these poor city dogs having to moop and pee in the street. And especially when I see their owners having to scrape their moop off the sidewalk. Plus I just don't think there is enough room for a dog in these shoeboxes New Yorkers call apartments. A cat really is the way to go. An entire city is not staring at you with pity when you're cleaning out its litter box. They keep the terror inducing rodents away. And they aren't so needy and high-maintenance. It's unfortunate that after a lifetime of being happily surrounded by animals, I seem to have developed allergies to them now that I'm in my early thirties. I pretty much lived with my cat on top of my face throughout my entire childhood. This is a heartbreaking development for someone who benefits greatly from furball cuddle time. What to do? Luckily Ben and Roland go out of town a lot, so I get to catsit (pumped full of Zyrtec) for their precious Nina, who does a lovely job of filling the void.
I am such a sucker for heroic animal stories. Recently there was an elephant who protected a girl from a tsumami, a gorilla who saved a boy that had fallen over the railing at the zoo, a dolphin who saved a surfer from sharks, and a beluga whale who saved a diver from drowning! Dogs are sniffing cancer; cats and horses are being used for therapeutic purposes- amazing! Even if they aren't 'heroes' necessarily, I also love the loyal pet stories, such as the one that went viral last year of the fallen Navy Seal's dog who laid down by the casket of his owner during the entire funeral *Tear*. Check out these Animal Halls of Fame, that annually induct heroic pets:
"Oh, how we danced and we swallowed the night/ For it was all ripe for dreaming/ Oh, how we danced away all of the lights/ We've always been out of our minds" --Tom Waits, Rain Dogs
One my favorite spots to watch sunsets is at the E. 90th St. entrance to Central Park, overlooking the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir. I have a strong affinity for the last pic- it always makes me think of the Impressionists' wheat field paintings, specifically those of Monet and Van Gogh.
Although most film sequels are mad dash attempts to cash in even more on a successful first film and to build uber profitable franchises, and therefore, by definition crap, there are a few exceptions to the sequel=crap rule, the most famous example being The Godfather II. One of my favorite sequels is Richard Linklater's Before Sunset. Nine years after Ethan Hawke's Jesse and Julie Delpy's Celine spend a romantic evening together in Vienna, they meet again for a day in Paris. But nine years later, they are no longer wide-eyed idealistic kids with a world of possibility before them. Adult life has brought failures, regrets, and disappointments, resulting in a more cynical world view. Though both characters are fighting being taken over by cynicism. Hawke and Delpy wrote the script themselves, adding an even more personal touch. They know the characters so well. Linklater shoots incredibly long takes which capture every subtlety and awkward moment, and which add a quality of realism. And the ending is perfect; it is one of my favorite closing scenes in film.
Your turn: Name a sequel that was superior to the first film.
"I just wanna say/ Don't ever change now baby/ I'd thank you/ I don't think we will meet again/ And you must leave now/ Before the sun rises/ Over the skyscrapers/ And the city landscape comes into view/ Sweat on my skin/ This mess we're in/ The city sunset over me/ The city sunset over me" --PJ Harvey (with Thom Yorke), This Mess We're In
Most of the subway stations in NYC have artwork or design features that are unique to the neighborhood they are in or to the main attraction that the stop serves. My subway station at 110th St. and Lexington Ave in Spanish Harlem has a series of mosaics by Manuel Vega (a name you will definitely read about again in future posts regarding public art in SpaHa) entitled Un Sabado en la Ciento Diez (A Saturday on 110th). This station opened in 1918. Mr. Vega's contribution came in 1996.
"There is a rose in Spanish Harlem/ A red rose up in Spanish Harlem/ With eyes as black as coal that look down in my soul/ And starts a fire there and then I lose control/ I have to beg your pardon/ I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in my garden" --Ben E. King, Spanish Harlem
Maurizio Cattelan's retrospective All, dangling from the Guggenheim's rotunda, is the Italian artist's swan song. Although he is only 51 years old, and has enjoyed a successful career, Cattelan is retiring from the art world. The massive mobile-like sculpture, which is comprised of the 123 individual pieces that Cattelan has produced since 1989, stimulated my senses and left me staring like a baby in awe. Taxidermied animals, a kneeling Hitler, Pinnocchio, a meteor stricken pope, body bags, an elephant covered in a white KKK sheet, a chess table, and a giant cat skeleton suspended morosely by ropes. I believe the common conscensus was that it appeared to be fashioned as a mass suicide. It was funny, sad, disturbing, and thought-provoking. The museum itself is so beautiful, the architecture so striking, that simply walking up and down its circular ramps was a treat. Getting to see all of the unusual pieces from different perspectives while doing so was so cool. It was a stunning use of the space. I'm not sure that the photos really do it justice.
Saturday evenings, from 5:45pm on, is pay what you wish at the Guggenheim. Given that normal admission price is $18, being able to pay a quarter to see the same thing is an awesome deal.
"Diamond rope silver chain/ Pretty noose is pretty pain/ And I don't like/ What you got me hanging from" --Soundgarden, Pretty Noose
Craig and I enthusiastically holding up our autographed Priscilla playbills in front of the 'I ♥ Will Swenson' poster
Priscilla Queen of the Desert the Musical, directed by Simon Phillips, and produced by the Divine Miss M aka Bette Midler, is billed as "the two happiest hours on Broadway." Never has an advertisement been more true! It was perhaps the most fun I've ever had at the theatre. I never wanted it to end!
Ben and Roland's friend Craig was visiting from Texas for a few days, and as he had already come equipped with a ticket to the show, they decided to play the lottery to see if they could join him. Luck was on their side, and they ended up with tickets for themselves, plus two extra. So I ended up with a front row seat to watch two drag queens and a transsexual road trip through the Australian outback in a bus named Priscilla!
The other ticket was given to an impossibly cute Brazilian boy named Tiago who was solo, and who was desperate to see the show. It was nice sitting next to him. Just saying. Come to find out, Tiago is not only an actor, but he is the dance captain for the Brazilian production of Priscilla which opens in March. (Dance captains are responsible for knowing every single step for every single actor in the show, for making sure people aren't falling off the stage or bumping into each other, for making sure that the actors are consistently 'hitting their marks' and keeping the performance from 'drifting', for holding rehearsals, and for teaching incoming actors the choreography. Most of the time they work as swings as well, which means they are able to fill in any part if an actor is sick and what not.) Tiago was so sweet, and his enthusiasm was pretty intense. He was quietly singing along to all the numbers, rhythmically moving his hands and making obvious mental notes of the characters' blocking. There is a point in the show, when the cast comes out to the audience and brings people on stage to boogie down. The lovely Israeli girl sitting on the other side of me, who was a flight attendant and who had seen her "favorite show" Priscilla countless times during her layovers in NYC, leaned over to me and asked if I wanted to go on stage. I inferred that she had already been on stage a few times herself, and that she was friendly with the actors, and that she could get me up there if I so desired. I answered that we should get Tiago up there instead, which is exactly what we did. When the dancers came off the stage, I grabbed Tiago's arm and pulled him up off of his seat forcefully. He had a ball up there shakin' his groove thing. When he got back to his seat, I said to him, "Now you can say that you've been in the Broadway production as well!" The guy was beaming. I'm super pumped for him.
But I digress. The true star of the show, who was melting male and female hearts alike, was Will Swenson (Tick/Mitzi). He is a bright shining star that has "it" whatever it is. It was almost difficult to take my eyes off him to watch the show as a whole. Maybe it was the way he rocked that dress made entirely of flip-flops, or the way he shimmied in the cheerleader outfit, or even the way he frolicked amongst the dancing cupcakes. I think there is just something strangely attractive about watching a straight man throwing away inhibitions and gaying it up. Whatever it was, Will Swenson is utterly engaging and damn talented; he played Tick with so much heart, managing to garner an enormous amount of empathy for a character in a very unusual circumstance. Craig and I bonded in our love for him. Craig was brave enough to ask for a picture. Me, not so much. I just awkwardly complimented him, smiled like a dork, and had him sign my playbill.
Moving on to Tony Sheldon, who I was also very much in love with. Mr. Sheldon, who comes from the land down under, has been playing Bernadette- the transsexual matriarch- since the original Oz production, appearing in Sydney, Melbourne, Auckland, Toronto, and London's West End. Prior to his Broadway debut he had 1200 performances of Bernadette under his belt! I honestly can't imagine anyone else playing that role better than him. His Bernadette has a lovely vulnerability underneath her spunky exterior. He is astoundingly good. So much so that it was quite shocking seeing him out of costume outside the theatre after the show. It's almost as if Tony Sheldon shouldn't exist because he makes Bernadette so real. But there Mr. Sheldon was, soft-spoken and elegant, looking like a classically trained actor who would be typecast in period melodramas or Shakespearean tragedies. And he was so gracious and appreciative that it warmed my heart.
Nick Adams (Adam/Felicia) and his bulging biceps lit up the stage with his unabashed sassiness and exhibitionism. His insanely muscular body is somewhat distracting really, especially when his toned buttocks are planted directly in front of those of us in the first row. The sheer athleticism of his dancing was impressive. At one point he jumped up and then landed in a split, resulting in an audible gasp from the entire audience. No one would be able to tell that this is Adams' first starring role on Broadway if it wasn't written in the playbill. He exudes confidence. This kid is going to do well for himself.
I also want to give props to Nathan Lee Graham (Miss Understanding), who rocked out a Tina Turner number at the top of the show that was hilariously awesome. The angelically floating Divas- Jacqueline B. Arnold, Lisa Howard, and Anastacia McCleskey- whose beautifully powerful voices soared over the crowd, were a stunning trio. Also standouts were J. Elaine Marcos as Cynthia, and Keala Settle, who played various characters as one of the ensemble players. They were both hilarious. And the entire rest of the cast was magnetic as well. It's rare to be able to say that every single person in a cast was amazing, especially a relatively large cast such as this one, but they all were. Though many of them have been in the show for a year now, there wasn't a hint of flatness or staleness to be found. Every single actor on stage was so full of energy, so alive behind the eyes; every single person brought something special to the performance.
The costumes, designed by Tim Chappel and Lizzy Gardiner, were nothing short of spectacular. Outrageous sequined and glitter coated wigs and headpieces, sky-high platform shoes, flirtatious thongs and bustiers, flamboyant dresses, mile-long eyelashes, and ostentatiously flared bell-bottoms- all in a rainbow of colors and patterns. The grandiose sartorialism is a vivid celebration of unconventional self-expression.
I tend to prefer shows that are built around original music, as opposed to recycled hits that you've heard millions of times- jukebox musicals, they are often called. Although Priscilla uses jukebox tunes, even the overdone gay anthem I Will Survive, the idiosyncratic characters and the heartwarming story are so captivating, that you can only fall in love with it. Best time ever! Take a sneak peak at the two happiest hours on Broadway:
The musical is based on the 1994 cult classic Australian film The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert directed by Stephan Elliott, and starring Guy Pearce, Hugo Weaving, and Terence Stamp:
"You with the sad eyes/ Don't be discouraged/ Oh I realize/ Its hard to take courage/ In a world full of people/ You can lose sight of it all/ And the darkness inside you/ Can make you feel so small/ But I see your true colors/ Shining through" --Cyndi Lauper, True Colors
This glass mosaics and etched stone piece by artist Peter Sis adorns the platform walls of the 86th Street subway station on the Upper East Side. It is entitled Happy City, and was completed in 2004.
My friend Guillermo is always talking about the Illuminati and the Freemasons, and his conspiracy theories are so ingrained into my consciousness that when I now see the ever pervasive symbols, such as that of the all-seeing eye, I can't help but think of occultism.
And speaking of eye symbolism, a brilliant film that heavily features eyes in a symbolic form, as the windows to the soul and as the eyes of providence, is Ridley Scott's 1982 sci-fi masterpiece Blade Runner:
"And now I'm riding/ All over this island/ Looking for something / To open my eyes" --Bright Eyes, Train Under Water
