That quote sums up largely my Philosophy, add to it keep silent and just listen. What I learned in old age is what I wish I knew when I was young. And it from all people, Roger Stone, Shit stirring Insurrectionist. And the title of this piece is also funny as I am not a fan nor was of Joan Didion; she was before my time and then during my time I thought of her as a Rich Writer who had no connection to anything I certainly new or experienced. So I dug up a New Yorker review and found this and thought perhaps I should re-examine her work. It sits on my bookcase untouched and unread. But this struck me as something that made sense to me as a woman.
“Play It as It Lays” also centers on a woman failing to live up to social expectations, and it comes as close as any book has come to representing what repression does to the soul. In this slim novel, where sometimes a few words constitute a chapter, Didion gives shape to ghosts, the ghastly, and the ephemeral. Maria Wyeth, a sometime B actress, suffers a number of misfortunes, including the birth of a disabled child, but what makes her still the best known of Didion’s early heroines is how she queers the image of American womanhood even as she presumably lives it, in her nice house in Los Angeles, a city where “failure, illness, fear . . . were seen as infectious, contagious blights on glossy plants.” Maria feels an existential gnawing in her bones, a dread she can never quite shake, but instead of clinging tighter to the rules she has presumably been taught—polish the furniture, make an apple pie, prepare her husband’s Martini as he rolls up the driveway—she makes a list of the things she will never do: “ball at a party, do S-M unless she wanted to, . . . carry a Yorkshire in Beverly Hills.”“Play It as It Lays” was published not long after the Stonewall riots, in New York, at a time when there were few stories about gay male life out there, representing. The book, which features a significant gay male character, could be read both as a metaphor for queerness—the girl who doesn’t fit in—and as an early, un-camp depiction of the fag hag, a woman who questions convention by avoiding it and finds safety in the company of gay men. I admired “Play It as It Lays”—there isn’t a closeted gay adolescent on the planet who wouldn’t identify with its nihilism played out in the glare of glamorous privilege—but it didn’t thrill me like “A Book of Common Prayer,” which has a full-bodied pathos and yearning that Didion’s other early fiction lacks or suppresses.
Just that last sentence says is all about how one interprets and analyzes what they read or see or hear. All criticisms are personal and regarding a connection the material, whatever that may be. For me the Arts are the connection to my soul and I have often referred to the Theater as my Church. As of late that has been extended to refer to the halls and clubs that have music, dance and song in ways that enable me to find a moment to connect to myself and we all need those moments that are to many of form of spirituality. And with that I am free to also dislike, share disdain or offer another perspective that is just that. It is not a condemnation on those who don’t share that belief or perception, it is just another one in which to ignore or to value. I still go back to the dinner where I expressed no criticism of Dave Chappelle and his view on Trans people. I don’t agree and frankly don’t care as I have no goat in that rodeo and he is entitled to his views. I am seeing him at the end of the month and again I can always leave if his views are so contradictory and affect me personally, but then again why would I go knowing that is a possibility? You should always know what you are walking into when you walk in. Do homework or at least make sure you have a sense of it before going in. And that is largely my entire critique of Here Lies Love. I thought I knew but upon entering it was not as I expected, nor wanted to be a part of, so I left. And the Woman who was in the Lobby while I ranted about the shallowness on my way out with a pit stop to the Bathroom was still there when I finally left, so I suspected she felt the same but could not make it out the door for whatever reason. She is like many women I meet, Bitches who talk smack, throw bombs and pretend to care when they really don’t. Image is more important. Imelda strikes me as that type.
I was very critical of the Disco “musical” Here Lies Love as it is neither a Musical nor is it good. It is experimental theater and has played to great success in small houses across the world and country. It came to Broadway with new Filipino cred, adding many to the Production list and the cast composed of entirely Filipino’s. It still was written largely by two White Men and despite a few alterations it is in fact the original that was debuted at the Public 10 years ago. The Public is known for taking risks and going big on the unusual and the experimental but these are new times and across the country, Theaters are shutting down that portion of their productions or reducing the number of them or simply shutting down entirely. Museums that house the grand and the beautiful markers of history are also in deep waters that means raising admission prices and much like the art on the wall finding itself being auctioned off to the highest bidder to sit in a warehouse or in some Oligarchs mansion only to see the light of day when more money is offered to pay for it. A fascinating article in The New Yorker about Larry Gagosian, Dealer, Gallery Owner and overall thug in the art world discusses the swinging dicks and busy checkbooks behind the largely unregulated world of art sales that contribute to the inflated value if not absurd promotion of one artist over another regardless of talent. And that is what the current state of Theater seems to be about of late, money not talent.
And that is what defines “criticism” of the Arts, someone writes a profile and to have access they must be cautious with their words in which to garner the interview or the “get” in journalism standards and in turn careful in how they review any work lest it seems that it may appear negative to the work, to the individual in the work or the creator of the work who may or may not be a member of a marginalized class or group. And I have suspected that is why many reviews focus on the music itself and the lively unusual production that defines the Disco Musical about Imelda Marcos, and in turn enable this dated fluff piece to be considered “dynamic.” Really? No comment on the lack of Musicians, the sudden addition of new Producers who have done nothing but add their name to the program and the three week performance of Lea Salonga to it as if to remind those of this work and its past? And folks it is perfectly acceptable to me to hate this piece of shit and still love me some David Byrne. When I read this review in The New Yorker I was relieved as finally someone had the idea that to review a Musical is to review all of its working parts and the subject matter itself. True that the song book is very danceable but it is available online and you can listen to it without the background noise and weird stage movements. Sometimes that is enough. I have not ever done so as again I find the subject matter so repugnant I cannot. Could I listen to Evita? Well maybe Patti LuPone but not Madonna folks, again that is another to each his own.
And that brings me to the Theater and the Audience and those who are attending any event be it musical or otherwise. The sudden bombardment of peoples shit on stage directed to the Performer is not new. Hell Tom Jones back in his day had a panty or two thrown at him.. so did Elvis, it is the nature of the beast. But Cell Phones, Cheese and other shit is not funny, nor really something I want to be a part of. When the audience is a part of the show, that is not what I paid for. And when I read this in the Washington Post regarding the current state of Audiences in public forums, my thought was, “Yeah, I know. As a long time attendee of live shows this is not shocking, and I did find the original Playbill article and while most of the subject behavior was during the time of Covid, little has changed when it comes to overall decorum and behavior of an Audience, especially when liquor is involved. Think Planes and this is just on land versus in the air.
I have largely moved away from theater as it is not a fun safe space anymore. The need to be “woke” dominates and in turn the lack of original work or if original neither good nor well done is an issue of itself due again to not mentoring, tutoring or advising those of the marginalized classes how to create a valid work; the need to have a Celebrity ill qualified to be on the Stage another, and I suspect more now with the SAG strike still ongoing. It is the way to bring asses into seats that are largely empty in many productions thanks again to negative reviews, not enough “Influencers” engaged or whatever is done to sell Broadway tickets post Covid. So you have often good work ignored, as in Kimberly Akimbo and other works closing due to lack of engagement with audiences, New York New York is an example there. Tougher works like Parade which deal with a non fictional case of Anti Semitism done brilliantly also close sooner than one would believe. Yet taking a well done but antiquated piece like Some Like it Hot and doing some casting magic is considered “great”. I guess no one saw the original which should be left alone, the same with Carousel. Modernizing the book does not make it modern. But the same falls to Ballet with a critic loathing Like Water for Chocolate and yet spending many words on old stand by’s like Giselle or Romeo and Juliet, which the Times did when they gave an overall critique on ABT’s productions this year. You cannot win here folks at all when it comes to this subject. Old is not new nor is new better but old is better when it is done new? HUH?
And that brings us back to Books and publishing and the need to edit and revise the text, to remove the book from a Library or Book Store, to shut off the ability for the Reader to learn, debate and discuss History without “whitewashing” is the antithesis of education and of learning. That is why I had a hard time with Here Lies Love it simply was a concept that needed to remain in context and now the new world is a different place. You cannot add names to a program, to put some news flashes behind a screen to make a person learn about a time in history that was anything but love. But hey I still love David Byrne. And Picasso. And anyone else flawed but still gave us beautiful work even it sits on an Oligarchs wall, or in a warehouse. Maybe someday we will see it. That too is Civility. Something we have lost.
Off the Rack Publishing 