A Friend of Bill's

April 23rd is generally accepted as Shakespeare's birthday, though record-keeping 450 years ago wasn't exactly a science. We know he was baptized on April 26th and that he died on April 23rd. April 23rd is also St. George's Day in England, so it's poetic justice (if nothing else) that we celebrate the greatest playwright in the English language's birthday today. And of course, how could a blogger who takes his nom de plume and blog title from what is probably his last play not talk about him?

As with most Americans, my first encounter with Shakespeare was in a high school English class. Luckily for Uncle P, it wouldn't be my last. Of course, it took a rather brilliant acting coach and director in college to actually make me appreciate Shakespeare. It was the spring before my sophomore year when I cast as Claudius in Hamlet, set for production the following fall. The director worked his young principals all summer, teaching us how to find the rhythms of Iambic Pentameter so they made conversational sense; explaining the jokes and archaic terms and (for me, at least), how to use our voices to their fullest effect. Since then I have appeared in and/or directed some of the Bard's most iconic pieces. I played Friar Laurence in Romeo and Juliet (twice); Cassius in Julius Caesar; Sir Toby Belch in Twelfth Night; a gay Jacgues in As You Like It, as well as Gonzalo and Prospero in two very different productions of The Tempest, while acting as sound-designer/lead Foley artist for a third. I directed a box-office record breaking production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, followed by a WWII-era Much Ado About Nothing and a Prohibition-era Romeo and Juliet at Princeton. I am desperate to direct a "Splash-Zone" production of Titus Andronicus, but it seems that most theatre companies are afraid to let me. I say they don't know what they're missing out on.

Ultimately, what makes Shakespeare still popular 400 years on, was his ability to so perfectly capture what we have come to know as 'The Human Condition.' For all our scientific and technological advances, we still behave as irrationally as most of Shakespeare's characters do. We fall in love; we feel jealously, rage and sadness; we laugh and dance and carry on; we question ourselves and the very meaning of life. In his controversial book "Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human Condition," author Harold Bloom posits that all we all behave the way we do because Shakespeare's plays have taught us to do so. To which I respond, "Nonsense!" Shakespeare was simply noting and commenting on human behavior as it has always been and most likely always will be. He just did it using those beautiful words of his. 

Uncle P (C) as Claudius in "Hamlet" (1982)

Happy Birthday, Bill! I hope to work with you again, sooner than later.

More, anon.
Prospero

Filthy Birthday to John Waters!

John Waters c.1969

Guerrilla filmmaker; trash auteur; social commenter and hilarious purveyor of outrageousness, Baltimore's favorite trashy son John Waters turns 67 today. Waters is single-handledly responsible for the career of plus-sized drag impresario Divine in his underground films of the late 60's and early 70's, while continuing to push the envelope after having gone more 'mainstream.' in the 80's and 90's.

Like many Waters' devotees, I first discovered his work in college in the 80's and his infamous (and career-making) Pink Flamingos. I remember renting it over Christmas break and watching it while my then teen-aged sister was baking cookies (even then, she was Little Betty Crocker). I kept telling her "Stay in the kitchen..." more than a few times. I haven't seen since, but have seen just about every other Waters' film available on VHS, DVD or on line. Some are very good (Cry-Baby; Serial Mom); some are fair to middling (Pecker; Cecil B. Demented) and one or two are downright terrible (A Dirty Shame). 

Regular readers know that I was lucky enough to play Edna Turblad (a character created by Waters and Divine) in a rather tumultuous though ultimately successful production of the musical version of Hairspray last year. If pressed to name my favorite Waters' movie, I'd have to split into three:

Of his early films, 1977's Desperate Living is probably the most insanely brilliant films of Waters' early works. He manages to create his personal version of Oz (he admits that The Wizard of Oz is the most influential film he's seen) in Mortville, a cardboard kingdom of criminals and perverts ruled by an insane Queen. One of Waters' few earlier films that did not feature Divine,  Desperate Living is certainly among  the most entertaining of his underground films. The trailer below is decidedly NSFW:

After 1988's Hairspray opened Waters to the mainstream, he made two more movies I absolutely adore.

1990's Cry-Baby is Waters' Rock-a-Billy musical parody starring a very young Johnny Depp in the title role and former porn-star Traci Lords in a Romeo & Juliet parody set in 1950's Baltimore. There are some amazing performances from  Polly Bergen; Amy Locane; Susan Tyrrell; Iggy Pop; Ricki Lake; Troy Donahue and even Willem Dafoe. That's not mention one of the best prison-set musical numbers since "Jailhouse Rock":

Probably my favorite Waters' film, Serial Mom is his 1994 parody of Suburban Perfection and sociopathology. Starring Kathleen Turner; Sam Waterston; Ricki Lake; Matthew Lillard; Traci Lords and a very unfortunate Patty Hearst, Serial Mom is Waters' first real (and only successful) exploration of filth in Surburbia:

Waters continues to write and lecture and can be seen in the documentary version of his one-man show, This Filthy World:

Happy Birthday, John!

More, anon,
Prospero

Happy 113th, Hitch!

Hitchcock and Friend

I'm pretty sure I posted about Hitch's birthday last year, but I'm too lazy (and too sick with a very nasty Summer cold) to look it up. Director Alfred Hitchcock made the 20th Century's most iconic thrillers and in 1960, changed the movie-going habits of America. Audiences used to show up for movies whenever they felt like it, often entering a movie that was already in-progress and sticking around for the next show to see what they missed. By insisting that no-one be allowed to enter the theatre after the first ten minutes of Psycho (the grandfather of all 'slasher' movies), Hitchcock forced audiences to arrive before the movie started.Psycho also upended audience's expectations by killing it's star in the movie's first act, something unheard of previously.

Of course, Hitch is famous for more than just that. He created the term MacGuffin and knew that the suspense of climbing a rollercoaster's first hill was far worse than the drop. He famously said about building suspense (you should excuse the paraphrasing here): "Place a bomb under a table at a meeting which only the audience knows is there," or something to affect. He also said (directly quoting here):

"The length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder."And rather infamously, he is known for saying that "Actors should be treated like cattle." As much as I admire his films, I have to disagree with that particular sentiment.

Among my personal favorite Hitchcock films are:

Psycho:

Strangers on a Train: 

North by Northwest:

Rope:

Rear Window:

The Birds:

And of course, his masterpiece (widely derided by critics upon its initial release), Vertigo: 

Hitch was also famous for making cameo appearances in his own films. Here (via) is a video compilation of all of his cameos: 

Modern filmmakers owe an incredible debt to Hitchcock. He may have been (from many accounts) a bastard, but he created some of the most indelible images and films of all of all time. Personally, I don't know a single member of my generation who doesn't know and love at least one of his films. 

More, anon.

Prospero

Brunch at Lacroix

My dear friend Dale has a major milestone birthday tomorrow, so his sweet wife (also a dear friend) Q, set up brunch for a few friends and family at his favorite restaurant; Philadelphia's famed Lacroix in the Rittenhouse Hotel, today. There were about a dozen of us, only a few of whom had ever been to Lacroix, before. Uncle P, needless to say, had not, though I have been regaled with stories of incredible meals Dale and Q had eaten there.

Appetizers, a cold bar and a dessert bar were set up in the dining room, while the hot foods and frozen desserts were actually served in the kitchen. LaCroix specializes in "unique" dishes. And when I say "unique," I'm not kidding. Among the appetizers were fois-gras and granola; yogurt, long pepper and cashew shooters; bay leaf soda shooters; purple sweet potato salad; black garlic aioli, arugula and feta cheese crisps; beluga lentil salad; prosciutto and ricotta croissants and a unique chopped chicken and waffles salad. Mind you, all of these items were teeny-tiny in size. The croissants couldn't have been bigger than a dime and the silver-dollar pancakes were actually the size of a quarter. The hot foods included a crispy duck comfit; scallop sausage and traditional scrambled eggs and bacon. For dessert, there were tiny dulce-de-leche cheesecakes; strawberry shooters and an amazing flash-frozen raspberry foam which was dipped into liquid nitrogen before our eyes. 

Now, Uncle P is not an adventurous eater by any means. Oh, I'll try anything once, but there some foods I actively despise. Liver; mushrooms (I know - but they all taste like dirt to me); caviar (oily, salty and fishy - yuck); most fish and pesto (I'm gagging as I write this) and lamb (I can't even stand the smell of it cooking) are among the worst offenders. Still, I must admit to really loving just about everything I ate at Lacroix. And even when I didn't truly love something, the portions were small enough that a sip of my $15 (!!) mimosa and the next item took it away. Here's a review and sample menu from a few years ago. None of those items were on today's menu.

Of course, none of that really mattered. What was important was spending time with good friends in celebration. And Lacroix certainly provided the right atmosphere for that. Our attentive wait staff was on the ball, refolding our napkins every time we got up to get something else to eat and re-filling our water and coffee before they were actually empty. Considering what Q paid to feed all of us, I'd say she got her money's worth.

Happy Birthday, Dale! I love you, but next time, let's go to a traditional steak house. OK?

More, anon.
Prospero

13 Minutes from a Milestone

About 13 minutes from the time I started writing this post, I will be celebrating a birthday milestone. And while I won't tell you exactly how old I am (regular readers have been given many clues over the past 4 years), I will tell you that I never imagined myself at this age, nor can I believe I am this age, already. 

The years have flown by, kids. And for the most part, they have been fairly kind. Yes, I have aches and pains now and then. My knees aren't what they used to be, though I attribute that to both genetics and years of abuse on both dance floors and stages. And for someone who through most of his youth identified with older folks, I am amazed that I still feel connected to folks much younger than myself. I try to keep up on trends, even if I don't understand or particularly like them. I know enough about computers to be effective at the day job; maintain a blog; use Gmail, facebook, MSWord, Excel and my DVR. 

I remember some of the '60's, most of the '70's and all of the '80's and 90's, though I couldn't tell you what I had for breakfast this morning. My political views have not changed, though my activism has increased. I am still very active in live theatre; still love Horror, Sci-Fi and Fantasy movies; still think Harrison Ford was at his physical peak in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and still manage to find a variety of men of all ages attractive. I still love to write (duh!) and know what WTF; LMAO; BRB and TLDR mean. I have friends (literally) all over the world and very dear friends I consider part of my family right here at home. I've traveled more than either of my parents; lived through several wars; seen both domestic and foreign terrorists do horrific things and had five long-term relationships that ended badly. I saw vinyl give way to 8-Track;  Cassette and CD;  VHS give way to DVD; DVD give way to BlueRay and the advent of DVR and digital HDTV. I witnessed the first moon landing, the resignation of a President; both Space Shuttle disasters and the horrific events of 9/11/01. I've also seen amazing triumphs of human will and the best that Art, Science and Literature have had to offer. 

And now I am looking forward to see what the future holds, not only for myself, but the rest of Humanity. And while I find some people to be downright scary, many recent events give me hope for future generations. My ramblings and opinions here may mean very little in the "Grand Scheme" of things, but I am so glad to be living in a time so filled with promise for the future. I only hope that the next generation is able to fulfill that promise.

And now that I've gotten all deeply philosophical on you, I offer up some nonsense for perspective:

More, anon.
Prospero

I'll Blog If I Want To

This is a postcard from Luna Park, Coney Island's Premiere Attraction in the early 20th Century. Uncle P is so obsessed with the accounts of the attractions at Luna Park, he wrote an as yet un-scored musical about it and it's founders.

Since it's after midnight here, it is officially my Birthday. And if you must know, I am Old Enough to Know Better and Young Enough to Say 'F**k It' and Do It Anyway, Bitches! I have been this age for quite some time now and expect to remain this age for quite some time yet (or at least, I hope to).

Several of Uncle P's dearest friends, including D, K, Q and Dale - as well as some old college buddies he hasn't seen in ages are joining me for an adventure to a place I've never been and I can't wait. I'll post pics and stories... eventually.

And for the curious, here's some footage of the original Luna Park, shot in 1903:

The boat ride was called the Shoot the Chutes and it's obvious there was more thought given to thrills than to safety. The pile-up on the slide at the end would be a tragic accident, today. Still, the story of how that amazing place came to be is just as fascinating as the place, itself.

More...
Prospero

Happy Birthday, Frances

Thanks to my dear Stephen at Post Apocalyptic Bohemian, I am reminded that today marks the birthday of probably the single most identifiable gay icon of the 20th Century, Judy Garland.

As someone who spent his adolescence in the late 70's, I've never fully embraced the whole Judy thing. I mean, I get it. She was a beautiful and talented young woman tragically exploited and enabled by the studio system into a spiral of self-destruction. A story we see again and again in real-life Hollywood. Does no one learn from the past?

According to LGBT mythology, the Stonewall riots were an almost direct result of Garland's death. The Stonewall was supposedly packed with fans who had come to mourn the loss of their heroine when the infamous raid and resulting riot took place.

I think this is the thing: Dorothy never really feels like she belongs, throughout the whole movie. When she's home in Kansas, she's dreaming of somewhere far away. But when she ends up somewhere far away, all she wants to do is go home. She makes new friends; has a glamorous makeover; kills two witches and exposes (well, her dog does, anyway) a fraud, while helping her new friends discover they've already had their fondest wishes, all along. Is there any one of you out there that cannot relate to at least one aspect of this story? I doubt it. No wonder gay men embraced this movie (and Garland) so much. And let's not even mention the Ruby Slippers...

Personally, I think Garland's best performances came well after The Wizard of Oz. I am especially enamored of her in Meet Me in St. Louis, in which she sang several of her signature songs:

And then of course, there's this from 1950's Summer Stock:

If you're a Baby Boomer, I hope you get it. If you're a Gen X'er or younger... well, you have no idea what you missed.

More, anon.
Prospero

The Worst Gaga You'll See This Week.

Okay - I'll admit it... I have become a Lady Gaga fan. Her often hilarious (and sometimes poignant) lyrics and infectious dance beats combined with her outrageous theatricality - not to mention her outspoken views on LGBT issues - have made her a favorite and I look forward to hearing her next CD, whenever that may be.

And there are endless (and endlessly amusing) parodies of her songs and videos out there. Most of them are quite clever. Some of them are even very good. Many of them, are downright terrible. But Michael K over at dlisted, has found what may be the worst Lady Gaga 'tribute' ever made.

Remember this gem from a few hundred posts ago?

Well, I really think Merna may have actually escaped from the psycho who was holding a gun to her dog's head, gained a few pounds, ironed her hair and managed to get into a community college's Video Production class in order to make the video embedded below. Just a warning, it ain't pretty...

Talk about 'Bad Romance.'

I know that not every theatrical, film or video project with which I've been involved was what one might consider 'good." Some of them were downright awful. None of them, however, approached the craptitude of what you have just witnessed (and thankfully, they all took place before YouTube existed). I don't know if the poor girl is delusional or clueless. And honestly, who are any of us to judge? But, really? As a certain 60's space doctor often said, "Oh, the pain... the pain!"

I know I've been away for a few days, but as the JTMF production of Sordid Lives grows closer (now, just about 3 weeks away), I find myself with less and less time for other things. I'll be posting tomorrow (we have the night off) and have tons to post about on Saturday's Zombie Zone. After that, it will be catch-as-catch-can until after the 27th.

And just a head's up - if you're in the New York area in mid-July, please join me and my friends on Sunday, July 18th at Coney Island for my Birthday Blowout. We're meeting in front of The Cyclone at 1:00. Hope to see you there!

More, anon.
Prospero

Happy 4th of July!

As a youngster, July was a month filled with celebrations. My maternal Grandmother's birthday was on the 4th; my paternal Uncle John's birthday was on the 16th; my birthday was the 18th and my father's was the 23rd. It was a month filled with parties, fireworks, barbecues and Hungarian "Dirty Bread" (a peasant delicacy that is soooo good, but soooo bad for you).

There were Sundays at the Jersey Shore (holla, Seaside Heights!) and St. Mike's church carnival. My sister and I would spend hours in the pool - well past the pruney-fingers stage - and school seemed a distant memory.

Of course, those days are now a distant memory. My grandmother, uncle and father are long gone. I haven't been to Seaside in ages and I haven't had Dirty Bread (I can say, but not spell the Hungarian words for it) since Hector was a pup. In fact, this July 5th marks the 10th anniversary of my father's passing. Not that that's a sad thing - my dad turned out to be quite a jerk as I got older. Don't get me wrong, I loved him, I just didn't like him very much.

And please forgive me for getting a bit melancholy - I suppose that has as much to do with getting a year older as anything else. These days, I'm left with only the 4th and my birthday to celebrate in July.

I suppose the point is - have fun. Enjoy the weekend. Eat burgers and hotdogs (and Dirty Bread, if you're Hungarian) and watch fireworks and go to your local church fair and spend time at the beach and revel in the company of your loved ones. I'm spending my birthday with dear friends (we're going out dancing, no mater how much my knees may scream at me the next day) and getting new ink (if you haven't read my previous post, please do so, and vote on which design you like best). I'm forgetting my chronological age and acting as young as I feel mentally. I'm telling the people I love that I love them. I'm having fun because life can suck when you don't.

Stay sane and safe (I'd hate to hear one of you lost a finger, hand or eye - or worse - to fireworks) Holiday weekend. Tell the folks you love how much you love them. As Michael and Billy proved last week, it can all be gone too quickly.

More, anon.

Prospero