Ah, That’s More Like It

The New Yorker, aside from publishing very very entertaining stories (at least in the past year, even if half of them are by Roberto BolaƱo) and also some really fab movie reviews, has the most interesting theater writing self has encountered in a long time. Perhaps theater is suddenly more interesting now than it has been?

Here’s an excerpt from Hilton Als’ “Underhanded: Martin McDonagh’s Slap in the Face,” from The New Yorker of 15 March 2010:

I don’t know a single self-respecting black actor who wouldn’t feel shame and fury while sitting through Martin McDonagh’s new play, “A Behanding in Spokane” (directed by John Crowley, at the Gerald Schoenfeld). Nor do I know one who would have the luxury of turning the show down, once the inevitable tours and revivals get under way. The play is engineered for success, and McDonagh’s stereotypical view of black maleness is a significant part of that engineering . . . The sad fact is that, in order to cross over, most black actors of Mackie’s generation must act black before they’re allowed to act human.

Ah, that’s more like it. Theater that infuriates. That’s the way it should be. None of these namby-pamby Broadway musicals for self. Let’s have more of Martin McDonagh, puh-leeease.

The play is interesting because one of its principals is Anthony Mackie (last seen in movie theaters, in “The Hurt Locker.”) Also, self has seen plays by Martin McDonagh before, and liked them. And she liked his movie, “In Bruges,” which she still thinks is Colin Farrell’s best movie! (And one half of the “In Bruges” tandem can currently be seen in “Green Zone.”) She remembers taking son, several years ago, to a McDonagh play in which Act II opened with half the characters (The play was set in Ireland) slicing up corpses in a living room. OMG! Does that qualify as a Hallmark Moment or what?

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

What We Did Today, the 2nd Saturday of March 2010

We saw “Green Zone” in the downtown Century 20. Self wanted to see “Brooklyn’s Finest,” as that movie garnered a B from Eric Snider, and “Green Zone” only got a C+. But as self wished to forestall putting hubby in a bad mood for the rest of the weekend (seeing as how his start-up is about to go belly-up), she gave in (again), and we saw “Green Zone.”

Self fell asleep! Amazing! In spite of the almost relentless use of the famous Greengrass shaky-cam technique! And the topical (Iraq) subject matter!

But, you see, the topic of the missing WMDs had been touched on already (and much more cleverly) in “The Ghost Writer.” And self has already eperienced the ne plus ultra of Iraq movies in “The Hurt Locker.” So she does agree with Eric Snider’s C+ rating of “Green Zone.”

Then we did our usual meandering around Redwood City. First, Costco. Since this was hubby’s first time in Costco in years, he was extraordinarily interested in everything. So, even though, when we entered, there were non-existent lines, by the time we had wandered through the electronics section and the housewares section and the frozen foods section and the vitamins section, the lines had gotten quite a bit longer. Also, there was a six-quart crockpot in self’s cart.

Now, what would self need a six-quart crockpot for? Especially as she is only cooking for herself and hubby, never entertains any visitors (Even when Dearest Mum visits, she prefers to stay with aunt in Daly City), and besides is supposed to be on a diet? Self knows not, but the crockpot did make it through the check-out line, as did a pack of eight porkchops, a huge bottle of J & B whiskey (only $19.99!), and three chubs of butter.

Then hubby insisted on stopping for coffee at Peet’s on Broadway (No weekend is complete, in hubby’s mind, unless he can imbibe white chocolate moccha at Peet’s on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon), and self wandered over to German House to look at bottles of German mustard and sauerkraut, and just as she finished paying for a Ritter White Chocolate Bar with Whole Hazelnuts (Yummy yummy!), hubby popped up with his coffee, and together we walked to a gallery and looked at some beautiful paintings of the foothills and the Half Moon Bay Reservoir, and the painter himself happened to be right there, sitting at his easel, so we chatted, and self told the artist that she loved the rough brush strokes he used for his bushes.

Then we went home. And self was quite itchy to start planting something, so she decided to begin with an azalea “Red Ruffles.” And while she dug the hole, hubby decided to walk the li’l crits. And soon it became clear that our neighbors across the street were having some type of family gathering, for many people dressed in nice pantsuits were walking up their driveway, bearing trays of cake and bottles of wine. And the weather was absolutely gorgeous, which made up considerably for yesterday’s misery.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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