A Force Of Nature

Because our daughter has known since the fifth grade she wanted to be an actress, we've managed to see a lot of Broadway shows since the late 90's. Over all those years, if I've seen a stronger dramatic performance than Bryan Cranston's portrayal of Howard Beale in the current run of Network, I can't recall it.

And for those who revere Peter Finch's Oscar-winning turn as Beale in the 1976 film of the same name, I promise you - Cranston is equally riveting. The focus of the play tilts a bit more toward the Beale role than the film. For my money, this worked well because it kept Cranston on the stage more than the film had Finch on the screen. Cranston's feral presence and unhinged energy grabbed me from the start and the emotional build up in the pivotal scene as Beale stumbles onto the classic mantra ("I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!") might be the most visceral and electrifying theater I've ever experienced. Topping it off was the startling, innovative set simulating a TV studio.

What theater performance have you ever seen that qualifies as a force of nature? In my mind, those are fitting words to describe Bryan Cranston as Howard Beale. This show is worth what you'll pay for it, I assure you.

The Power Of Stories

Tommy Orange's debut There There (2018) is a novel I am sure will remain with me. Each chapter in parts one through three introduces four characters linked by family or some facet of their shared Native American culture. In part four, the author braids all twelve characters together in a tableau that reminded me of the Rashomon-like brilliance of two recent favorites: Mudbound (2008) by Hillary Jordan and The Maid's Version (2013) by Daniel Woodrell. There There is not quite as taut as The Maid's Version, but it packs an equivalent punch.

"If you have the option to not think about or even consider history, whether you learned it right or not, or whether it even deserves consideration, that's how you know you're on board the ship that serves hors d'oeuvres and fluffs your pillows while others are out at sea, swimming or drowning, or clinging to little inflatable rafts that they have to take turns to keep inflated, people short of breath, who've never even heard of the words hors d'oeuvres or fluff."

I'm glad to be living in an age when authors from every culture get to tell their stories. And I'm even happier these stories are widely available to those of us who want to hear them. I didn't hear these stories growing up, did you? If we'd heard at least a few of them, what might have shifted in the way we relate to people from cultures different than our own?

An Ambivalent Anniversary

Of the milestones celebrated here, today's is often the one tinged with the most ambivalence. Each year as March 14 approaches, I search for balance before publishing this post.

On one hand, I'm proud of my persistence - tomorrow marks the beginning of my eighth consecutive year of consistent blogging. On the other hand, unrealized expectations about having a robust online conversation continue to frustrate me.  

But, I'm grateful for every comment - online or off, the surprise of reaching a new reader, a human connection, albeit virtual. Still, as Saul Bellow's Henderson perpetually moaned - "I want".

I have difficulty imagining my life without blogging. Until the occasional peek at my view numbers discourages me. I bounce back because creating makes me feel plugged in. Until my inability to express myself in a fresh way stops me cold. It's the journey, not the destination, right? That cliché works better on days when I don't need some instant gratification and unfortunately, I have those days less frequently than the more evolved among us.

In any case, I'll see you next March 14. Unless I don't.

RIP, George (With Questions For The Survivors)

How many fewer people will think of or remember George Doggett now?

Don't be at all concerned if you have no idea who George Doggett was. Although I'm sure his family misses him, his passing was not newsworthy. I know just one thing about George that you probably do not. He was a faithful patron of the Beach Theater in Bradley Beach. Given his otherwise anonymous life, how did I come by this information? And why would I waste your reading time asking about him?

I submit that a better question might be - How far would you go to ensure a place in posterity for  yourself or a loved one? I'm not sure whose idea it was to place a plaque many years ago in George's honor on the wall next to the urinal in the Beach Theater. And when a new owner closed that relic for renovations a few months back, I wondered: Would the new owner notice the plaque? If yes, would they contact George's family to ask what to do about it before beginning the renovations? If then his family wanted the plaque, would they change the wording about "...this urinal is dedicated to …". If not, where would they place it? If you'd been the one wielding a sledgehammer during the demolition and had no instructions from your crew boss about the plaque on the wall in that restroom, how long would you have paused to think about George?  Etc.

Having referred here to George twice before - the first time obliquely, the second time by name - I'm confident saying I've done my part preserving his legacy. If any of you have a similar claim to fame you'd like me to draw attention to on this blog, please advise. I promise I won't snicker.

https://reflectionsfromthebellcurve.blogspot.com/2013/08/ahposterity.html

https://reflectionsfromthebellcurve.blogspot.com/2015/02/posterity-pile-up.html

Taught By The Best

What is your most reliable strategy for shaking off a bad day? All I have to do is stop and reflect on the relationship I have with my thirty-year-old daughter.

That reflecting often brings me back to my parents. Although my parents came from a generation not known for discussing feelings or considering the "relationship" they had with their children, I still fantasize about having a conversation with them about those things. Sometimes that fantasy includes telling them about the intense bond my daughter and I share. Oddly, at other times in my pretend conversations with my folks, I'll underplay that bond. Am I worried their feelings might be hurt if the bond they felt with me wasn't as intense?

My parents were terrific. I can't recall an instance when I ever felt unloved or under-valued. There's no doubt they taught me - without realizing they were doing so - to be the kind of parent who could develop the kind of bond my daughter and I have.

Everybody Knows

One downside to being as indiscriminate as I am about film is how infrequently I am surprised. The conventions of many genres - romantic comedies, survival stories, uplifting message films, etc. - can sometimes seem a bit predictable.

Then every so often, a film like "Everybody Knows" comes out of nowhere and kicks my jaded ass. All I knew about this winner before deciding to see it was the little bit Fandango revealed. Truth be told, I picked it primarily because my wife has a thing for Javier Bardem. Nominally, "Everybody Knows" is a thriller. But it's really more about the way secrets often take on a life of their own and also how our past creeps up on us when we least expect it. Penelope Cruz shines in her co-starring role alongside the dependably excellent Bardem.  The script, direction, and supporting actors are all first rate.

My favorite part of "Everybody Knows" was the final scene. Two secondary characters are about to begin an important conversation about the central event in the film. The film fades on an ambiguous but wholly satisfying note. Would enjoy hearing your reaction to this surprising movie if you've seen it or get around to doing so in the future.

More Work To Do

For today's exercise, begin by reflecting on any long term romantic partnerships from your life. Let's arbitrarily set twenty years as our parameter for long term. That's a little less than half the time my wife and I have been together.

Now, over those twenty (or more) years, think back on any people you've known as a couple that you ever socialized with fairly regularly.  Of those people - if the individual or couple still lives within reasonable proximity to you - which of them do you almost never see any more? How many of that group were initially your friends? How many were initially your partner's friends? Leave out of your tallies any folks you and your partner(s) met at or near the same time, i.e. the initial friendship was shared rather than primarily yours or your partner's.

OK, which group of people that you now rarely, if ever, see - those that were your friends initially or those that were your partner's - is larger? Finally - What conclusion do you draw from this data?

After forty one years with my wife, a higher number of the people we once regularly socialized with and now no longer see were initially my wife's friends. The disparity is not large but it is undeniable. And, after reflecting on that disparity and recalling several interactions, my preliminary conclusion is not that surprising. Over the years my wife has simply been easier to get along with socially than I. More work to do.

Shaking The Tree

"The voice that spoke inside me had the clamor of the wrong. It was the beat of feet on grooves worn bald by decades of obedience, not the light footfalls of the daimon on a path unique to me." - from "Thoreau Trailer Park" (2012)  

By the time I read those words, I'd spent almost two weeks dipping in and out of Mark Greif's 2016 collection of essays entitled "Against Everything". Spending this time with Greif's sharp mind and provocative insights was like being on a stimulating two week vacation. I was educated, energized, challenged. When was the last time you had an intellectual vacation like this?

I'm not sure what it says about me as a Father and role model that my daughter got this book for me based on the title alone, but, she enriched my life introducing this new author to me. Among the most significant of my takeaways was a renewed resolve to keep my mind open to rap. Greif's evangelism in the essay "Learning To Rap" (2010, 2015) was both persuasive and culturally eye-opening.

And most important, for every contrary opinion Greif and I share - our inability to understand the appeal of the Grateful Dead's music, our annoyance at ubiquitous TV screens, our belief that one house, one car, one boat is more than enough - there were just as many instances in this book when my margin notes said "ouch". In those cases - again, note the quote opening this post - Greif's incisive mind reminded me that all sacred cows, including the ones revered by know-it-all bloggers, need to be examined periodically. What was the last book you read that helped you to carefully explore how we all regularly confirm our own biases?