...But I Know What I Like.

I've always been a fan of guerrilla art. Nothing destructive, of course. Good guerrilla art should be not only provocative, but actually display some talent. I came across this image on the blog LOLGod, which is basically an atheist humor blog that often borders on brilliant.

I can't help but think Darwin would love this piece which appears to be by an artist with whom I am not familiar, KreiBel (a German artist whose work can be viewed here) very much in the style of the elusive British art prankster Bansky. And before you stop reading, no I am not going on another rant about religion and all the terrible things that come from it - there's plenty of evidence for that in the daily headlines (and throughout all of recorded history, for that matter).

No, tonight I am going to talk about art.

Pretentious? No. Good art is never pretentious. Pretentious art is, by definition, bad art. That's not to say all bad art is pretentious. There is plenty of earnest and well-intentioned bad art out there, in all of its forms. And even that has its own merits. But truly good art has to be an honest expression of the artist's intentions, even though those intentions may be interpreted differently by each person who views it. Good art resonates with many people; on many different levels, for many different reasons and in many different ways, but it resonates, none the less. Any and all responses to art are valid, despite one's education or previous exposure to the medium. As the old line goes, "I don't know much about art, but I know what I like."

Art usually holds value to only two people: the artist and the viewer who responds to it. You and I may like the same film, but for different reasons, while any given viewer's response may differ wildly from the artist's intentions. As a director, I often tell actors "There is no 'right' way, but there is most definitely a wrong way, and even the least sophisticated audience member can smell BS a mile away."

I have dozens (if not hundreds) of favorite artists, working in almost any medium you can think of: Painters; sculptors; writers; actors; designers; musicians; singers; composers; directors... the lists go on. If forced to choose a favorite artits, in the way in which most people interpret the word, it would have to be Salvador Dali, the Spanish painter/sculptor/filmmaker who in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, redefined 'art' for his generation. My favorite Dali piece usually resides in the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida. It is The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus.

The painting features a beatific Columbus, Dali's wife as the Virgin Mary and more crosses than I have ever been able to actually count. It is a massive work, easily 15' tall by 10' wide (or more) and speaks to me in a way no other painting, sculpture, film, novel or play ever has - and I have absolutely no idea why. I can spend hours lost in the painting, discovering some new extraordinary detail with each and every viewing. Dali was known for painting in a trance, transposing his trance dreams onto the canvas. I try to do that in my own writing, with limited success, though more than one of screenplays has been born out of a dream.

So, what's the point of this post? I'm not exactly sure, except to maybe remind all of you to find art that inspires you. It can be anything from Neolithic cave paintings, Egyptian hieroglyphs or the Sistine Chapel to "Huckleberry Finn," The Nutcracker or Star Wars. It can even be in an amazing rainbow:

Remember: Art Can't Hurt You.

More, anon.
Prospero

TV Review: "Persons Unknown"

NBC, desperate to appease fans of both their late, almost-great "Heroes" and the truly great "Lost," introduced this summer series a few weeks back, but I just discovered it in a 4 episode OnDemand marathon (and I've DVR'd tonight's episode).

The series opens with the abduction of young, single mother Janet (Daisy Betts). Janet wakes up in a old (or at least made-to-look-old) hotel with six other strangers, none of whom have any memory of how they got there, nor any clue as to why.

The other captives include the mysterious Joe ("Third Watch"* alum, Jason Wiles) and a host of character actors you've seen a million times before, including Ferris Beuller's Day Off and "Spin City" legend, Alan Ruck. The other four captives are a young Army Sargent; a used-car salesman; a woman who claims to be a psychiatrist and the naughty daughter of the U.S. Ambassador to Italy, who is certain her father has had her sent to the seemingly inescapable town in the middle of nowhere. There are cameras everywhere, watching their every move. And a team of Chinese chefs who serve their meals in the restaurant across the street. And the Night Manager, who seems to know only what his employers (whoever they may be) tell him.

Meanwhile, an intrepid tabloid reporter is doggedly searching for Janet, stepping on toes and getting too close to something he shouldn't know about. Part "Lost," part "The Prisoner" and part I don't know what, "Persons Unknown" is both familiar and intriguingly off-setting, answering questions with more questions and setting up future anxieties without being too heavy-handed. And the anonymous voyeurism just gives the show that extra touch of creepiness that makes the viewer feel just a little dirty for watching.

I hope NBC gives "Persons Unknown" a chance to play out to a satisfying (if not logical) conclusion. I'm actually enjoying this odd cat-and-mouse game and I want to know what's really going on. Only 13 episodes have been shot, and I honestly hope that's all there is. Show creator Christopher McQuarrie wrote Bryan Singer's noirish masterpiece The Usual Suspects, so Uncle P has high-hopes for a satisfying (albeit offbeat) conclusion by August. *** (Three out of Four Stars)

"Persons Unknown" airs at 8 PM ET on Monday nights. Check your local listings, as they say...

More, anon.
Prospero

*A show my mother, never good with names of anything or anyone, refers to as "Fire Story" and will only know to what show one is referring, if one uses that name. I don't think I was blogging when "Third Watch" (a compelling, if underrated, emergency response drama) was in first run, but I certainly remember admiring (okay... lusting after) Wiles' co-stars, the gorgeous Coby Bell and unfaithful jerk, but amazingly hot Eddie Cibrian.

America! F**k Yeah!

This one is for Stephen in Portland, who posted the trailer to what is undoubtedly one of the most pain-inducingly funny movies ever made, as a secondary portion of his Fourth of July post about his husband's recent hand surgery (please visit his blog and wish Hubby well -- tell him Uncle P sent you). I saw this film with my college buddy Brian N.* and his lovely wife, Carol. Brian and I were doubled over in pain, laughing; while poor, sweet Carol spent the whole movie saying "Oh, dear! Oh, my!" which only served to make it funnier for both her husband and I. Honestly, the scene in the alley behind the bar nearly sent me to the hospital the first time I saw it.

If you've never seen Team America World Police, you may want to watch "South Park" on Comedy Central. If you like South Park, then you probably already know and love Team America. If you hate South Park (and I don't know anyone who does, other than my 75 year-old auntie, who hates everything but exceptionally crappy horror movies and "Ghost Hunters"), then I'd recommend you see something else.

Here's the trailer for Team America, which gives no real indication of the foul-mouthed; perverted; potty-humored; absurdly brilliant satire that Trey Parker and Matt Stone have crafted:

The story concerns Gary, an actor in the Broadway musical 'Lease,' where the big showstopping number is called "Everyone Has AIDS:"

Gary is recruited to go undercover for Team America, because of his amazing acting skills. And willingness to undergo painful facial reconstruction, only to end up looking like a 12 year-old's attempt at making a werewolf costume. We soon learn that Middle Eastern terrorists are actually being funded by the evil Kim Jong-Il (language NSFW):

The North Korean dictator is sent up in a much funnier Bond villain parody than Dr. Evil could ever be, especially when considering a deliriously silly scene involving adorable little house cats as giant panthers and another in which a baby shark tears away at a fish-filled Hans Blix puppet.

All kinds of insanity (and hilariously dirty puppet sex - both straight and gay) ensues, leading up to Gary doubting himself enough to get very, very drunk (NSFW and not for the squeamish, though effing hilarious!):

Thankfully, I've never seen a pond of vomit, in real life.

The insanely over-the-top jingoism of Team America (who fly in to stop terrorism, only to cause far more destruction in doing so), can best be summed up in the title of both tonight's post, and the movie's theme song (very NSFW):

No ethnic group, minority or celebrity is spared a skewering, which somehow makes all that skewering OK. Parker and Stone are equal opportunity offenders and since no one is safe, no one should feel threatened or discriminated against. Taking on everything from strange 60's Sci-Fi shows; Jame Bond; the French; Islamic terrorists and Broadway to left-wing celebrities; puppet porn; the NRA and Matt Damon, Team America World Police works so well on so many levels. Crude, rude but just so damned funny, TAWP is an absurd and nonsensical pleasure about which no one should feel guilty.

So tonight, as I watch the neighborhood fireworks through the window above my monitor with that certain amount of jingoism that seems infect all Americans this time of year, I am reminded that satire is protected under "Freedom of Speech" and I can't help but think that even with all our nation's flaws (and you do not need me to remind you of them), I still live in the Greatest Country in the World.

Happy Birthday America! **

More, anon.
Prospero

PS - That promised review of that new NBC show is coming... I just got such a tickle from revisiting this movie tonight, I had to share.

*Brian and I met doing theatre in college and have been jokingly competitive about our shared name, ever since. And bizarrely, even though she has met him on more than one occasion, K still insists that Brian doesn't actually exist.

**Talk about Bond villains!

The Gayest Things You'll See This Week

An unusual Saturday Night Quickie here at Cali's R, but I came across a couple of things today that I just had to share and they were far more appropriate here, rather than the Double Z (could I sound more pretentiously hip tonight if I tried? -- And if I do, please free to slap me the next - or first - time you see me*).

Anyhoo, I know it's July and Pride month is over in the U.S., but Pride celebrations are held all over the world all year long and in Madrid, they just had their annual High Heel Race. It's been linked several places, but this clip is from Joe.My.God. I love how the British commentator calls lipstick "lippy.**"

Also via JMG, this hilariously filthy gay sex primer, as explained by mimes (very likely NSFW):

I've watched that clip about 6 times now and it still makes me laugh like an insane hyena on mescaline -- wow, talk about disturbing analogies...

I'm heading over to the Zone in a few minutes. The church carnival thing actually kind of fell apart (it is a holiday weekend, after all), but that's okay. It allowed me to discover an intriguing new NBC show, which I'll be reviewing tomorrow, once I've watched the remaining two episodes OnDemand.

More, anon.
Prospero

* You won't believe this, but I found that image by Googling "old Asian woman." Hand to God. Try it for yourself. Go on; I dare ya! I double dog dare ya! Ah... Chicken! (Please... what the hell is wrong with me, tonight?)

**And man am I dating myself with that reference.

G'night, Gracie.

There's a Shark in the Pond!

Well, it seems to be a summer of movie anniversaries. I already talked about the most influential horror movie of all time, but this summer also marks the 35th anniversary of the most influential horror movie of the 1970's, Steven Spielberg's Jaws.

Nothing seemed to be going right for the film while in production. The mechanical shark (dubbed 'Bruce'* by the crew) didn't work and the film went over budget and over schedule and Universal execs were sure they had a flop on their hands, while Spielberg was certain he would never work again. By now, we all know that once Spielberg got into the editing room, he managed to create a masterfully suspenseful film by not showing the monster until very nearly the end of the movie. And then there was that masterfully simple cello-heavy score by John Williams (Spielberg's composer of choice for so many films): Da-DUM! Da-DUM! Da-dum-da-dum-da-dum da-da-da-da-dada-DAH! Bernard Herrman would have been so proud! Is it any wonder that America's beaches were empty that summer?

I was 14 the year Jaws came out, and while I remember seeing it at a drive-in theater with my family, and I found it incredibly entertaining, I was by then an already a jaded horror fan who wasn't particularly freaked out by Jaws, unlike so many movie-goers of the time. Much of that had to do with the fact that I wasn't really a fan of ocean swimming, in first place. Yes, I have many great memories of day-trips to the Jersey Shore (unfortunately at Seaside Heights, where that execrable MTV show is shot**), though we would spend only a few hours on the beach before heading to the infinitely more interesting (to me, at least) boardwalk with its fascinating games of chance and questionably safe thrill rides. I can't tell you how many plush animals, cartons of cigarettes and vinyl albums we won on those wheels. So the whole "stay out of the water" thing had little effect on me or my family, as we rarely went in the water to begin with. We were more of a swimming pool family, than an ocean-going family, so the movie was actually just a scary fun time for all us.

Jaws also holds the distinction as the first "Summer Blockbuster" movie, changing the way American film studios marketed and scheduled their films, forever. Jaws was the first "tentpole" movie and other studios soon followed with their own summer blockbusters, leading to some of the 80's most successful movies, including Raiders of the Lost Ark; Gremlins; E.T.; Back to the Future and countless others.

Looking back after repeated viewings of this iconic and imminently quotable film ("You're gonna need a bigger boat!"), I can confidently say that Jaws worked mostly because of the amazing performances of it's three leads. Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw and Richard Dreyfuss achieved A-List status and Spielberg established himself as the late 20th Century's most successful film director, all because of a movie that shouldn't have worked at all. Even Peter Benchley, upon whose novel the film was based, has said if he knew then what he knows about sharks now, he would never have written the book in the first place. But he did. And his subsequent screenplay left it's indelible mark on cinematic history.

As a mini-side note, this title's post is solely for the benefit of Uncle P's sister, who does the most amazingly accurate reading of that line...

*Both my Brother-in-Law and a dear friend (not to mention an ex of my own) share this name.

**You have no idea how disheartened I am that my childhood memories have been sullied by the obnoxious and truly repulsive idiots who have become "celebutards," because of that show. Even my Dear D, an honest-to-goodness Jersey Italian, thinks these morons should be dawn and quartered for encouraging the worst Jersey stereotypes since The Sopranos.

I hope to have a relatively decent Zombie Zone post tomorrow, though I have plans to attend a local church carnival with several members of my Sordid Lives cast tomorrow evening. You know I'll be posting about that, come Sunday.

I hope you all have a wonderful 4th of July. If you are reading this blog from a country other than the U.S., I hope you all have a wonderful summer weekend.

More, anon.
Prospero

The Numbers Are In

So, unofficial word came down from our producer today about the JTMF's fund-raising efforts this year...

I think I'll keep you in suspense for the moment and talk instead about the many joys associated with working on a JTMF production.

As a director, I have been privileged to work with some the area's most talented and dedicated actors, designers and technicians year after year. I was in our first two productions. I played Sterling in Jeffrey and Arnold in Torch Song Trilogy (the former was exhilarating while the latter was exhausting).

The next year, in an effort to attract a wider audience, we went with a perennial favorite: Neil Simon's The Odd Couple (not an actual pic from our show). I was asked to direct and in an effort to make the show more relevant to our core audience, I updated some of the dialog and cast a woman in the role of Speed. It actually worked quite well, though did nothing to increase our audience.

The next year we did two One Acts: Paul Rudnick's Mr. Charles, Currently of Palm Beach and Nicky Silver's The Altruists. Taking a cue from Rudnick's piece, we called the evening "What Causes Homosexuality?" Again we saw some low audience numbers, but it introduced us to some very talented folks, including an exceptionally talented young man who would go on to become one of my best friends and an ardent supporter of our cause. Of course, I'm talking about my Dear D (not an actual picture of him, either -- in case you haven't figured that out by now). Gorgeous, talented and just an all-around terrific human being, D is the kind of person one hopes all of one's friends are like and he has been in every production I've directed since, including The Skin of Our Teeth for another company.

Anyway, the following year was our 5th Anniversary, and we celebrated with a gorgeous production of Charles Busch's Psycho Beach Party. It was our second most successful year and Opening Night featured a Red Carpet Gala, hosted by "Joan Rivers" and attended by "Peggy Lee" and "Diana Ross," among other JTMF "Celebrities." After that came Joe Orton's hilarious sex farce What the Butler Saw, followed by a rather magical production of Paul Rudnick's The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told. Which leads us right up to this year's production of Del Shores' Sordid Lives.

As with most JTMF shows, Sordid Lives created a microcosmic family, of which I am proud to be a member. My astonishingly good cast (which included both K and D) jumped into the show with full abandon, trusting me and having the time of their lives playing these outrageous (but very real) characters. Thanks to expanded media coverage (provided with the help of another dear friend) and some terrific performances by an amazing cast, Sordid Lives proved to the JTMF's 3rd highest grossing show and we managed to raise nearly $7000.00 over the course of just three performances.

Not only was Sordid Lives a financial success, but so many people told us it was one of the best shows we've ever done, I can't help but think of it as an artistic success, as well. In addition, a cast member (who shall remain nameless until he decides it's appropriate) came out to yours truly on the second night of the run, citing the supportive and safe atmosphere of the company as one of his reasons for doing so. I can only consider this a double mitzvah for the production.

Okay -- I promise to stop writing about this show, except to say that it is still not too late to take part by making a donation at our website, or volunteering for our first ever Winter Fundraiser, featuring a staged Radio Play version of It's a Wonderful Life this coming December. I won't be directing this one. Instead, I'll be heading up the live Foley crew, creating live sound effects the old-fashioned way.

Finally, before I'm off to the Land of Nod, I have to give a shout out to the terrific tech support staff at HP; and in particular to Nicole and Phil E., both of whom were instrumental in ridding my PC of the virus which caused me so many problems over the past week. You guys rock!

I promise a return to my usual nonsense tomorrow.

More, anon.
Prospero

Who You Gonna Call?

I know I've talked about and linked to The League of S.T.E.A.M. earlier this year when they released a very amusing video about trying to catch a leprechaun on St Patrick's Day.

The steampunker comedians are back, with a "commercial" for their supernatural entity removal services (the S.T.E.A.M. acronym stands for 'Supernatural and Troublesome Ectoplasmic Apparition Management').

I love the silent-movie piano version of Ray Parker's Ghostbusters playing in the background (via).

Add this exquisite bit of nonsense to the good news that the wonderful folks at Hewlitt Packard Tech Support are currently slaving away to remotely fix my home PC, and I'm having a much better day than I have since Sunday's Sordid Lives matinee.

More, anon.

Prospero