252. “A Mighty Wind,” Loews Lincoln Square, April 18: A new Christopher Guest movie is a cause for celebration, and in this gentle spoof of the folk-music scene, he doesn’t disappoint. Part of the fun of a Guest movie is figuring out how his stock cast of characters will fit into the current proceedings, and there’s something especially charming this time around as we see such regulars as Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara pop up as earnest, washed-up folk singers. (Surprisingly, Parker Posey is relegated to an almost chorus-sized part this time around. Also with a small role – but spectacularly funny, as always – is scary-lipped Jennifer Coolidge as a thick-witted publicist.) The film has been criticized for completely ignoring the political side of the American folk music scene, but I say: lighten up. What really grabbed me about “Wind” is how touching it was at the end; when Levy and O’Hara’s long-separated characters reunite for their trademark kiss, I was actually on the edge of my seat. Is Guest getting soft on us?
253. Whitney Museum of American Art, April 19: I had more than a casual interest in “Scanning: The Aberrant Architectures of Diller + Scofidio” ever since I tagged along with Josh as he filmed his documentary about these two “hot” architects. What struck me from that experience was how good these partners are at creating an aura for their work; how else could they nab a commission for a new Boston art museum after really only having built one building? The Whitney show didn’t change my impression – it’s flashy but somehow seems all on the surface. (Example: a display on “ironing freed from the aesthetics of efficiency.”) And what’s with the 50 suitcases, each one “from” a different state? Diller and Scofidio manage to create an image that is both glib and pretentious. Also at the Whitney, and much more impressive: “Eli Nadelman: Sculptor of Modern Life,” a huge retrospective that exposed me for the first time to this talented artist. One of my favorites: his “Reclining Horse,” 1912.
254. Chelsea gallery tour, April 19: A trip back to the Matthew Marks Gallery to show Kaywin and Jim Nan Goldin’s show (actually, to have them listen to Bjork’s glorious musical accompaniment – John Taverner also gets a musical credit). One of my weirder Chelsea outings: Let’s see, then we saw a huge missile by Cosima von Bonin at the Friedrich Petzel Gallery (shucks, I’d have no place to put it) and an entire installation of creepy polyurethane foam mazes by Ernest Neto at the Tanya Bonakdar Gallery.
255. “Russian Ark,” Cinema Village, April 19: The ideal movie to see if you’ve just wandered through the Hermitage three weeks ago, like me. If that doesn’t apply to you, this one-shot movie – yes, one uninterrupted 96-minute shot – falls more into the category of mildly interesting but increasingly annoying gimmick. I kept thinking back to the Russian movie critic I met in St. Petersburg who told me that the movie was a huge bomb in his country – and that everyone is mystified that it’s such an art-house hit in the United States. Still, it was fascinating for me to see portions of the Hermitage I’d just walked, and to see various rooms peopled by characters in period costumes. The final ball scene, which included what seems like thousands of extras, is stunning. How’d they pay for all that? (Guess they didn’t have to rent the Hermitage.)
256. “Rivers and Tides,” Cinema Village, April 19: Andy Goldsworthy is an artist who specializes in the ephemeral; he uses materials of nature to construct his art, fully expecting them to be gone within a day or two. (Most dramatically, he constructs pieces that will inevitably be carried away by the incoming tide – talk about a deadline.) The film is a contemplative little ode to the idea that art doesn’t have to last forever – and really, will ANY art last forever? Goldsworthy’s works are just a little bit more ephemeral than most; they’re a reminder that artists should retain a sense of humility.
257. Fifth Avenue Easter Parade, April 20: An annual tradition – and a gorgeous spring day on which to enjoy it. This isn’t a “parade” in the usual sense; the police simply block off a stretch of Fifth Avenue and people stroll. For every person wearing an Easter bonnet, there were about 20 people taking photos.
258. New York Historical Society, April 20: A chance to see Thomas Cole’s series “The Course of Empire,” which we’d studied in my American art history course. Also: the special exhibition “Julz Rulz: Inside the Mind of Jules Feiffer,” about the cartoonist and playwright.
259. “The Last Sunday in June,” Century Center for the Performing Arts, April 20: This new play by Jonathan Tolins (“The Twilight of the Golds”) about a group of gay friends who gather in Greenwich Village on the occasion of the annual gay-pride parade was a little too “meta” for my tastes: it’s filled with characters joking about that if this were a gay play, here’s the part where we’d … and then fill in the blank. This self-awareness is amusing (“here’s where we use the sound of a juicer as a cheap theatrical device”), but it keeps taking the audience out of the moment. And as moments go, it’s a pretty good one: This is a contemporary gay play, “post-AIDS,” if there is such a thing, about such hot-button topics as monogamy, cruising, “turning straight” (or at least marrying a woman), the generation gap and conforming to straight stereotypes of what successful gay relationships should be.
260. Lunchtime theater discussion, journalism school, April 22: A continuation of a discussion we had last fall with such playwrights as Theresa Rebeck and Columbia professors Mike Janeway and Evangeline Morphos. This one focused on post-Sept. 11 artistic America.
261. “Does Theater Matter?”, journalism school panel discussion, April 23: Sure it does. The people who don’t think it matters (and there are many) didn’t come to this conference. Participants were Robert Brustein, actress Kathleen Chalfant, Columbia professor Joan Jeffri and Robert Marx, former executive director of Lincoln Center’s New York Library for the Performing Arts. Brustein pointed out that theater does indeed matter because it’s such a communal activity, unlike moviegoing. (There’s a reason that porn hasn’t made real inroads into the theater, really, because movies and video are much better equipped to provide solitary “dark corners.”) And there was much discussion of the cyclical nature of things – that theater will come back. Much of the worry focused on today is about funding and the tendency for organizations to push capital campaigns and build buildings rather than emphasize human expenses; you can raise money to build a library, but it’s hard to pay the librarian.
262. Table reading, Literary Wing, Lark Theatre, April 24: A reading of a play called “Anomalies of the Heart.”
263. Group discussion with Rand Morrison, Shari Levine and Stephanie Stewart, journalism school, April 25: This high-powered trio gathered to discuss arts coverage on television – and all three are examples of those few times when the medium actually does it pretty well. (Morrison is executive producer of CBS News Sunday Morning, Levine is vice president of Bravo and Stewart is series producer of WGBH Boston’s “Greater Boston Arts.”) The mostly grim consensus: As long as network TV is pursuing the 18-49 demographic to the exclusion of all others, such niche programming as fine-arts coverage is mostly going to be ignored. And there’s the familiar grim refrain of funding as well: With greater government cutbacks for public programming, that venue is going to be challenged as well. What I still don’t understand is why there isn’t a niche market for fine-arts coverage that some small cable network would be willing to try to pursue – don’t people who like the opera also have a lot of disposable income?
264. “Mary Todd: A Woman Apart,” Samuel Beckett Theatre, April 26: This one-woman show about Abraham Lincoln’s wife was an interesting historical exercise. Mrs. Lincoln led a life filled with grief – losing three of her four children plus her husband – and ended up in a bitter dispute with her surviving son, Robert, who had her committed to a sanitorium. The play, by Carl Wallnau, is set in that sanitorium, with Mrs. Lincoln (Colleen Smith Wallnau) flashing back to her childhood, her early romance with Abe, and her hard times in the White House when she was shunned by Washington society as an uncouth Westerner. (It didn’t help that she invited mediums and clairvoyants to the executive mansion.) Hearing her woes, one can’t help but think that a good press handler could have solved many of her image problems (indeed, she used to visit soldiers in field hospitals but never invited the press along – it was none of their business, she said). What I was left with from this earnest if slightly tedious production was of the overpowering nature of grief. You don’t lose that many people close to you without having it drastically impact you.
265. “Zanna, Don’t!”, John Houseman Theater, April 26: At Heartsville High School, the boys fall in love with boys and the girls fall in love with girls – and what’s more, the chess champion has a lot more sex appeal than the football quarterback. This goofy, bubble-gum-pop musical fairy tale has an expert tone and feel as it capitalizes on its fast-paced, silly story of a boy named Zanna who spreads love and good cheer on campus with his magic wand. Everyone is coupled up and happy – including the chess and football guys. But when the students opt for “meaningful social commentary” in the school musical by focusing on heterosexuals in the military, the football player has some “strange” thoughts – what if he’s straight? This feel-good musical has a couple of great things going for it: The songs are bouncy and fun (especially the hysterical “Be a Man” military number) and knowing without being too analytical (one is titled “Fast,” poking fun at falling in love too quickly). And, I was impressed with how the storyline settled into a less-goofy, fairy-tale setting without destroying the magic of the show. Clever stuff.
266. Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum, April 27: A rollicking good (and fun) exhibit titled “National Design Triennial: Inside Design Now,” featuring everything from wacky furniture and strange fabrics to a new car by Ford featuring an LED panel that lets you change the color depending on your mood. It’s a wide-ranging exhibition featuring such big names as lighting designer Jennifer Tipton (who seems to design every dance show in New York) to Target and it’s “bulls-eye” campaign.
267. “Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg,” Metropolitan Opera, April 28: Sure, it’s six hours, which is WAY too long. But Wagner’s beautiful (and familiar) music made the whole thing go down a lot easier. And the light, flippant conceit of the story – if Walther (Johan Botha) can be considered a “master singer,” then he can compete for the hand of Eva (Solveig Kringelborn) his beloved – makes it easy to digest (and zone out during some of those long arias). The best part is the last scene, when the “contest” plays out between Walther and the smarmy Beckmesser (Hans-Joachin Ketelsen), who steals his song and then completely butchers the lyrics. In the end, the opera becomes an endurance contest for both the singers and the audience, but I walked out with a feeling of accomplishment, like I’d just run my own version of a marathon.
268. “Life (x) 3,” Circle in the Square, April 30: Sonia (Helen Hunt) and Henry (John Turturro) think their “friends” are coming for dinner tomorrow night. But there’s a mix-up, and Hubert (Brent Spiner) and Inez (Linda Edmond) come a night early – to disastrous effect. Actually, we get to see this scenario spun out three different times, and in each segment we delve a little deeper into the characters. Yasmina Reza’s new play seems to be about power: about the way that people adjust their interactions depending on a complex set of spoken and unspoken cues. Henry is a research astronomer whose success depends (at least in the first two scenarios) on the grace of Hubert, a cruel man who revels in seeing his colleague squirm. Yet in the third scenario, Henry is more confident, effectively shutting off Hubert’s most vindictive tendencies; there’s something animalistic about their relationship. (Is it that we push harder when we sense weakness?) I was bothered by some aspects of the play’s structure: There’s no internal logic to replaying the scenarios (no shift in point of view, no decision-making process that leads to a different chain of events), and I kept wondering what the point of it all was. Are we watching the same characters, just different facets depending on the circumstances? (I’m not sure that interpretation holds up – the off-stage child, say, is so markedly different from the first to the third scenario, whiny and clinging in one and markedly independent in the third, that I don’t think you can make the case for the facet argument.) Or is the play more about what we do with the raw building blocks of our personalities? Whatever it was, it made me think afterwards.
269. Group discussion with Jodi Kantor, journalism school, April 30: She’s only 27 and already the editor of the Arts & Leisure section at the New York Times. (Talk about making waves.) Yet I can see why she got the nod: Kantor is ferociously bright, triumphantly articulate and with a hefty passion for transforming the sometimes stodgy Times Sunday arts section into something with more grasp, reach and – most important – sense of humor.
270. New York Philharmonic, Avery Fisher Hall, May 1: Kurt Masur, the orchestra’s music director emeritus, returned to conduct Bach (Orchestral Suite in D major), Handel (“Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day”) and a premiere by Lukas Foss (“Passacaglia, Bachanalia, Passacaglia”). The New York Choral Artists sang the Handel, and they were an impressive group. The piece is an ode to the ingredients of music, from “the trumpet’s loud clangor” to “the soft, complaining flute.” (I especially liked the jealous pangs of the “sharp violins.”) As for the modern piece, I tried to appreciate it, but it seemed mostly dissonant and mechanical to me – it sort of reminded me of some of the more brazen modern-art pieces I’d been studying.
271. New York Public Library, May 2: The reading room has been lovingly restored and is a jewel. (And modern, too, with most of the tables configured with laptop jacks and Internet access.) On display: “Poetry of Sight: The Prints of James McNeill Whistler.”
272. Queens Museum of Art, May 2: I’d been intrigued with this venue ever since I passed it on the freeway – what you can see is the giant Unisphere built for the World’s Fair. Next to is the museum, which is dominated by the impressive Panorama of the City of New York: a huge model built on a scale of 1:1,200 (1 inch equals 100 feet) and occupies 9,335 square feet. It’s HUGE, and what’s most impressive is not the towering buildings of Manhattan – which are faithfully recreated – but the amazing size of the outer boroughs, particularly Queens and Brooklyn, which seem to extend forever. Also impressive is the size and audacity of Central Park – the decision to carve out such a swath of greenery in the design of a densely packed city was a profound accomplishment. I found Butler Hall, of course. There’s something pleasantly low-tech about the exhibit, which was the premier exhibit from the city for the 1964/65 World’s Fair – no computer simulation or electronic gadgetry, just painstakingly crafted little buildings. Also at the museum: a display of photos by Wendy Ewald titled “Secret Games” – consisting of photos taken of children around the world. (The most compelling: Hasmukh, 14, from Gujarat, India, who relates his recent marriage.)
273. “Long Day’s Journey Into Night,” Plymouth Theatre, May 2: Eugene O’Neill’s towering autobiographical classic received reverential and raucous treatment from four big-time actors: Vanessa Redgrave, Brian Dennehy, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Robert Sean Leonard. On a day that Edmund (Leonard, playing the O’Neill role) will learn for certain that he has consumption, the Tyrone family runs through its usual dysfunctional paces, from mom’s morphine addiction to older brother Jamie’s alcohol addiction. And then there’s dad’s notorious miserliness, which extends to wanting to send his son to the cheapest state sanitorium he can find. It’s been said that O’Neill’s play connects with people so deeply because anyone can find a hint of their own family up there on stage, and indeed, it’s the universality of the conflict – combined with excruciating specifics – that makes the whole thing effective.
274. “The Rake’s Progress,” Metropolitan Opera, May 3: My last Met opera of the year. (And probably the last time I ever sit in the orchestra legally, unless I win the lottery.) Stravinsky’s crisp little morality play – studded with characters named Anne Trulove, Nick Shadow and Sellem (an auctioneer) – practically borders on the surreal. (How about when Baba the Turk, described as the most desirable woman in the world, removes her veil and reveals a beard?) Dawn Upshaw was sweet and solid as Anne, and Stephanie Blythe gave it her diva all as Baba, but it was the rakish Paul Groves as Tom Rakewell – young, attractive, earnest and with a nice voice – that satisfyingly captured the Everyman thrust of the moral. If the Devil himself popped up on our doorstep and offered untold riches (not to mention a bearded lady), how many of us could resist?
275. “Urban Cowboy,” Broadhurst Theatre, May 3: Since my goal was to see every musical that opened this season on Broadway, I slunk down for a student-rush ticket to a show that has received only slightly less snickers than “Dance of the Vampires.” (Let’s just say that I quickly put my Playbill in my backback so people wouldn’t see it on the subway on my trip home.) But this loud, frenetic outing isn’t dreadful; it rarely rises above mediocre in terms of book and lyrics (except when it’s cribbing such country favorites as “Lookin’ for Love in all the Wrong Places”), but it’s also filled with a lot of energy. Matt Cavenaugh is all biceps and pecs as he struts through the role of Bud (played by John Travolta in the film), who comes to Houston looking for glory. He’s matched in country-Barbie-doll spirit by Jenn Colella as Sissy (aka Debra Winger), who wants a “real cowboy.” What struck me is how difficult it is to appropriate stock movie conventions for the stage – when Bud gets jealous over Sissy’s attraction to the grungy Wes (Marcus Chait), you don’t have the benefit of lingering close-ups and a push-button soundtrack to stoke the fires of jealousy. So the moment comes across as cardboard emotionally unless you’re careful – and director Lonny Price wasn’t very careful. That said, I enjoyed the second act much more than the first, especially when old Uncle Bob (Leo Burmester) dies; he and Aunt Corene (Sally Mayes) manage to connect emotionally through music, something the leads of the show never are quite able to do.