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It is the season of the witch. Pumpkins are on sale at the farmer’s market, the days are crisp and sunny, and the nights are chilled. Light thickens, and the crow makes wing to the rooky wood. It’s time to get thrilled and scream like a little girl. Of course it’s always better to watch someone else experience madness and murder than to experience it yourself, and that’s why we go to the theater! We play a game of “what if” when we sit in the dark and watch as a little girl goes to Hell – literally. And that is why The Tragedy of Maria Macabre is so much fun.
Nicole Beerman, Joe Varca, and Megan Hill in "Cut"
Welcome to the machine.
Cut by Crystal Skillman is a theatrical piece about TV, a play about the seriousness of the entertainment industry, a post-modern meditation on Post-modernism. If that sounds like a lot to chew on, it is. Cut is a theatrical essay on the socially constructed nature of “reality,” the brass ring to which all serious artists aspire. And Ms. Skillman has fostered a reputation as a downtown playwright who isn’t afraid to take on The Big Questions. Take, for instance, her play The Vigil or the Guided Cradle, a play about the universality and timelessness of torture in the human experience. The “cut” of the play’s title is its guiding metaphor. A “cut” is what an editor does to film to create a story; what your boss does to your job to save his own skin; and – the cruelest cut of all – what the critic does to put you in your place.
When asked who is the greatest poet in the English language, most people will say “Shakespeare.” When asked who is the second greatest poet they might say “Keats.” But would anyone say “Milton?” These days it’s hard to find a college graduate who has read Animal Farm from cover to cover, much less Paradise Lost, written by a man who was once thought to be a greater poet than Shax himself.
But it was not always thus. John Dryden, himself a onetime contender for the title of greatest poet in the English language, friend and younger colleague to Milton, supposedly said after reading Paradise Lost, “This man cuts us all out, and the ancients too.” Though Milton was an old republican revolutionary and Dryden a loyal monarchist, Dryden liked Milton’s epic so much he adapted it for the stage by rewriting it in rhymed couplets and setting it to music.
Paul Van Dyck has done Dryden one better by keeping Milton’s sublime poetry unrhymed and using all the modern theatrical arts to make Paradise Lost come to life at the FRIGID Festival. I can say without qualification that this is the best theater – the most relevant to our time, the most uplifting, the most artistic, simultaneously the most esoteric and exoteric, visually, aurally, and intellectually stimulating – that I have seen in a long time. And running under an hour, it makes getting some high culture as enjoyable as possible for those of us inflicted with ADD by the modern age.
Paul Herbig and Richard Altmanshofer in "Donnie and the Monsters"
Kids live in a world full of problems. Who can help? Mom and dad have their own problems. Heck, sometimes they are the problem. Best friends are fickle, especially in those crucial years between the halcyon innocence of deep childhood and the flowering of full adolescence. Tell your friend a shameful secret in confidence, and when school starts again after summer break, your best friend has a new best friend, and the whole class is sniggering about you behind your back. You might as well tell your troubles to Mr. Chips, your fat, black lab, the soul of patience, or a sock puppet. At least Mr. Chips won’t talk back.
Last Tuesday at the Knitting Factory in Williamsburg was the 4th annual Rock ‘n’ Roll auction to benefit the Willie Mae Rock Camp For Girls, hosted by our CC fave Mr Murray Hill.
The Awkward Turtles
Sapphire
The auction was also a showcase for a couple of rock camp bands, The Awkward Turtles and Sapphire. (Did I mention Kaki King performed too?) Keep your eyes out for the young graduates of the Willie Mae Rock Camp For Girls. The Awkward Turtles played with a lot of heart and a lot of charm, and Sapphire — whoa boy! — these young ladies (their lead singer is in seventh grade) are ready for the big time now. Check out their website here. If there is any justice in the world they’ll be the next Jonas Brothers, cuz they are CUUUUTEE!!! omg. It’s like The Indigo Girls meet The Jackson 5.
Murray rocked the auction, which was supposed to be silent, but ended up being out loud. As Murray said, “What’s the big deal? I’ve got the biggest mouth in the room!” But like all good causes they could probably use an extra dollar or two. If you want to contribute, do so through the Willie Mae Rock Camp For Girls website.
The best case for giving was given by Sapphire in their song “More Who Have Less”. It was written just this month, a couple of days before the earthquake in Haiti, and the girls sang it for them. Check it out…
I am so deeply ashamed that I will be unable to make it to Key West for what promises to be unprecedented bad-ass-ness, produced by some of my favorite people on the scene, Tatah Dujour, Marky Peirson (both of Key West), and our local lovely, Jen Gapay. Plus, I’ve never been to Key West and when I met Marky Pierson at the Slip he made it sound positively inscrutable. Plus, I bet it’s warm there. But as I keep sayin’ like a CD player stuck on repeat, soon as someone starts paying me for my trouble, the easier it’ll be for me to cover every scene I’m invited to. Well, that’s just J.D. singin’ the blues. As for the rest of you, if you have the means, I strongly recommend it. Drop by and check it out.
(The following is lifted blatantly from the press release:)
The first annual Burlesque Holiday Extravaganza takes over downtown Key West this week! Key West’s Marky Pierson & Tatah Dujour present a wild four day event with two huge rip roaring glamorific shows with over 25 amazing performers from far away lands. The first annual event is co-produced with NYC’s hot impresario of nightlife, Jen Gapay of Thirsty Girl Productions.
With performances by Dirty Martini, Michelle L’amour, Julie Atlas Muz, Indigo Blue, Lily Verlaine, Trixie Little, Jo Boobs, Little Brooklyn, Gigi Lafemme, Lux Lacroix, Roxi D’lite, Tatah Dujour, Nasty Canasta, Minnie Tonka, Darlinda Jus Darlinda, Ophelia Flame, Clams Casino, Harvest Moon, Cheeky Derriere, Moana Amour, and Anita Cookie… Hot Toddy, Tigger! The Evil Hate Monkey, Jonny Porkpie, Seal Boy, and Mr Marquee Vonfister, and featuring Murray Hill!
Tickets here and for all the info you could ever want check out Key West Burlesque. Please go! Since I can’t!
Marky & Tatah, break legs and world records!
kiss kiss,
JDX
‘Tis the season of holiday parties, corporate and otherwise. On the longest night of the year my companion and I dropped in on the SPI Marketing holiday party at the Rootstein Mannequin Showroom on West 19th Street and 7th Ave in Chelsea.
Window on the World, by Melody Mudd. Khao Sok National Park, Thailand, 2008
Anish Kapoor's Cloud Gate, Millennium Park, Chicago, Photo ©2009 Melody Mudd
The big bean known as Cloud Gate at Millennium Park in Chicago is so much fun to play with, espesh if you have a camera. It weighs 110 tons. One Hundred and Ten TONS. In other words, it is very heavy. It measures 66 feet long and 33 feet high. British artist Anish Kapoor created this awesome thing out of super highly polished stainless steel. It’s like seeing the Chicago skyline through a giant drop of water.
The Minsky Sisters ~ photo by Erin Patrice O'Brien
The Minsky Sisters have been on our radar for some time, so we asked them to tell us about themselves.
CC: We’re here with Jen and Kristen, the Minsky Sisters! Hello!
Jen: Hello!
Kristen: Hello!
CC: When did you guys get your act together, so to speak?
Jen: We’ve been performing together for several years but Minsky sisters became a thing July 2008. Our friend Shien Lee, the producer of Dances of Vice, asked us if we would do a tap number. Both of us have been dancing for most of our lives. And we didn’t have a name, we were just ourselves. We didn’t have an identity, and we performed just thinking we were gonna do just one dance and that was going to be it. But people really liked us and we started getting asked to perform at other venues, not just Dances of Vice, and we thought, OK, I guess we’re a thing now — an act. So we got a name.
BB Heart as Faye Valentine from Cowboy Bebop
Last Saturday night was the latest installment of Nelson Lugo and Shaffer the Dark Lord’s series of entertainments predicated on puerile pleasures. Last time around it was “Video Game Vixens.” This time it’s “Cartoons!” The genre of entertainment is burlesque, and the conceit is “Saturday morning when we were kids.” The tagline for the show ran thusly: “the boys and girls celebrate cartoons and the brightly-colored foxes that star in them. Pour a bowl of Cap’N Crunch and gather ’round the boob tube, because this month, EPIC WIN is gonna party like it’s Saturday morning!” Yes indeedy. Six lovely ladies did burlesque routines as six fairly well known Saturday morning cartoon females: Miss Mary Cyn as Bugs Bunny (dressed as a chick — natch), Lefty Lucy as Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls, Victoria Privates as the chick who sang “Unpack Your Adjectives” on Schoolhouse Rock (Blossom Dearie), Bonnie Voy’age as She-Ra, BB Heart as Faye Valentine from Cowboy Bebop, Magdalena Fox as April O’Neil from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
NANDA's spectacular performance at Miss Exotic World this June left me breathless, and I was only taking pictures. Photo by Melody Mudd.
November 19, 2009
Oh the villainies of Facebook! It seems that when word gets out that you write for a blog as prestigious as Cultural Capitol you start getting invited to all kinds of parties. And so it was I was invited to the NCYFF film industry mixer at GStaad last night.
—and who wouldn’t want to be?
Standing in line to get into the Gotham Comedy Club to see Harriet Halloway I suddenly felt as straight as an uncooked linguini noodle at a fusilli festival. Straight as a swizzle stick at a crazy straw convention. Read the rest of this entry »
Jude Law contemplates existence as Hamlet
“Don’t call it a comeback!” ~ LL Cool J
LL was all of twenty-two (22) years-old when he wrote that line. But consider that he had his first hit when he was seventeen, and that in Showbiz! time you can be on top of the world one moment and two celebrity-seconds later, shallow, unscrupulous producers are trying to cast you in a D-list celebrity reality show.
Now consider the case of Mr. Jude Law, who was considered one of the “10 most bankable stars” of 2006 (along with Tom Cruise and Tom Hanks), and who in 2009 tells Sarah Lyall of the New York Times, “to be honest, I don’t know what I’ll do after this. I have no films planned. I haven’t been hugely inspired by what’s come my way in the film industry lately, and this has opened up my eyes to how great roles can be, and how great acting can be.” Do I smell a whiff of desperation? (Did I mention that St. Jude is the patron of lost causes?)
Hungarian Burlesque Legend La Savona signs vintage photographs of herself for fans at Miss Exotic World, Vegas, June 2009. Photo by Melody Mudd.
Tony Curtis takes a photo with a young fan
Celebrity sightings are fun, particularly when the celebrity in question is a World War II vet, bonafied Hollywood icon, and true hero of The Greatest Generation.
Tony Curtis, star of famous films like Sweet Smell of Success, Some Like It Hot, Sparticus, and The Great Race, was the Grand Marshal of today’s Veterans’ Day Parade in Manhattan. I snapped this picture of him just before shaking is hand — the same hand that shook Burt Lancaster and Stanley Kubrick’s hands. How’s that for six degrees of separation?
Curtis served in the Navy on the U. S. S. Proteus.
No. I found that out the hard way this morning as I hit the bank on my way to the City and found it SHUT. Next thought: why would the bank be closed on a Wednesday? Then I read the sign, and suffered what can only be called extreme and profound embarrassment. I didn’t know it was Veteran’s Day.
Back in grade school, we got days off for everything. These days, I get days off for precisely nothing shy of Xmas, Turkey day and the 4th, so nothing registered. But Veteran’s day should be important, right? Remember when wars were righteous, when there was bona fide evil in the world and Americans could be regarded as heroic? (Not that there ain’t evil in the world now, but the water sure seems muddy on the villain/hero front.) Forget the tortuous debate about 9/11 and Iraq for a moment and remember that these are our boys, and they are getting’ shot up all to hell.
Today’s Veteran’s Day Parade in NYC starts at 11:00 am at 23rd Street and 5th Avenue, heading up to 57th Street and 5th Avenue, with an estimated 23,000 participants. One of the highlights (according to the AP) will be the presence of the Navajo Code Talkers, which should elicit some great nostalgia for righteous warfare and American ingenuity. (Try not to recall that in the days following September 11th our government couldn’t find anyone who spoke Arabic.)
Oh—and if you see a military flyover today, don’t panic. It’s part of the homage. Raise a glass to those who gave their lives for your double-mocha caramel cappuccino, kids, and to all you hawks AND doves, try to remember that supporting the troops is not in contradiction with patriotism or pacifism.
Kiss kiss,
JDX
James Tigger! Fergeson as The Great Longing and Taylor Mac as The Lily. Photo by Ves Pitts.
“Our language can be seen as an ancient city: a maze of little streets and squares, of old and new houses with additions from various periods; and this surrounded by a multitude of new boroughs with straight regular streets and uniform houses.” —Wittgenstein
For “The Lily’s Revenge,” Taylor Mac’s latest opus at HERE, he borrowed the 5-act structure of classical Noh theatre to construct this whopping five-hour piece—magical, intellectual, hysterical, and linguistically acrobatic. The audience is led—by the divine, effervescent, and perpetually bubbly World Famous *BOB*—from lobby to theatre and back for each “recess,” during which the audience is entertained by short, punchy acts meant to reference Japanese Kyogen. Now, forget about Noh because I won’t mention it again for another three hours.
Dragged into the 21st century kicking and screaming, these days I get invited to more events than I could possibly attend, and occasionally wonder how I got invited in the first place or even why I went. Take last Thursday’s book release party at Destination Bar in the East Village—celebrating the book the world has been waiting for, THIS IS WHY YOU’RE FAT.
Cue existential crisis, mad envy, clueless drunkenness, and, yes, fear for the culture of a dying planet. But before the chilluns deride my old-fashionedness—or just my oldness—let me first say: I love the website. The food alternately grosses me out and inspires cravings of the post-bong-hit variety, and above all, Richard Blakeley is a genius. And a nice guy, alleged crimes aside. Too bad the bar was packed with Twitterbots.
Halloween weekend 2009 was as Halloweenie as you can get. The night itself, when ghouls and ghosts walk the spooky streets of New York, fell on a Saturday. The moon was almost (but not quite) full, and by all accounts it was more debauched than a Night on Bald Mountain. November 1st — All Saints Day — fell respectfully on a gray, cold Sunday, perfect weather for nursing a hangover with comforting dim sum and a bloody mary.
Cold sobriety is the kind of thing you have to ease into though — as hostess-with-the-mostest Calamity Chang knows very well. Tasty eats and visual treats are necessary on Sunday eve to ease a soul back into the work-a-day Purgatory awaiting on Monday. That is why she put together Dim Sum Burlesque at Chow Bar, which will run every Sunday for the rest of the month, and possibly the rest of the year. Calamity Chang told me they are booked for the rest of November, but you might be able to score a table if you walk in. No-shows are held until 9:00. I for one would love to have dim sum burlesque at Chow Bar on Sunday January 3rd 2010.
Cool, refreshing, autumn weather of perfection falls to rain, the dreaded brace for winter, and the overwhelming desire to sleep in late every day only to move to the couch and watch movies. A rattled blogger considers starting a weekly column called “Great Moments from Bad Movies,” his habit is so deep. His burlesque daydreams conspire into his sleeping life, and the myriad crushes threaten cripple his daily crushes on the L train. How many crushes can one man nurse at once? And is burlesque a form of kryptonite? Hey, if anybody’s out there—this cold kid is looking for some new preoccupations. Open to suggestions.
But what I really wanted to tell you is this: It’s SO hard getting out of bed, that the last two mornings I’ve woken up fantasizing about the Slap Chop. Yes, the Slap Chop. When I slap that snooze button on my alarm clock, I’m thinking, “Slap your troubles away with the Slap Chop.” And wouldn’t it be so bitchin’ if you could load up your Slap Chop the night before with fancy fruits, and as you slap your snooze button you’re already chopping up your morning fruit salad?
Ok—even better: The power cord to your alarm clock is draped across the Slap Chop. You only have to hit the snooze button once.
A man can dream. Have a gloomy drizzly New Yorky day. Meanwhile, if you haven’t seen this lately, enjoy:
Kiss kiss,
JDX
Our decennial head count, the census, is about to take place here in the good old U. S. of A., and an article in Crane’s New York Business (dot com) has some pretty interesting preliminary statistics. Here are a few nuggets.
- The 2010 census is expected to show that New York City has gained more residents this decade than any other city in the country.
- It is the only American city with more than 2 million Hispanics and 2 million African-Americans.
- Manhattan is the only county in the nation where the majority of dwelling units house only one person.
- The city’s white, non-Hispanic segment of the population is growing — children and adults alike.
- Immigration from the suburbs, and back to the city, is affecting the demographic makeup of New York City.
This is my favorite quote: “Who are all these people who keep coming to this already densely packed city? Despite Americans’ supposed love affair with single-family dwellings in leafy suburbs, and despite economic downturns, the 2010 census will show that New York City has added, on average, almost a thousand people a week since 2000.”
That’s right. And Joel Kotkin, the conservative, Los Angeles based purveyor of American nostalgia for the automobile can choke on a tail pipe.
The New York Burlesque Festival starts tonight. Stay tuned for coverage… but better, yet, come see for yourself.
Come out, come out, wherever you are!
Thursday, Oct. 1: Teaser Party
Public Assembly
Doors Open At 8pm
Get there at 8pm sharp for a very special Dr. Sketchy’s where you can try your hand at drawing a burlesque beauty!
Friday, Oct 2 Premiere Party
The Bell House
Doors Open at 8pm
Show Starts at 9pm
149 7th Street (between 2nd & 3rd), Brooklyn
Saturday, Oct. 3
The Saturday Spectacular
BB Kings
Doors Open at 6:30pm
Show Starts at 7:30pm
237 West 42nd Street, 7/8
NYBF Official Festival After Party
11pm-1am
DJ Hitman Hearn (London) plus gorgeous Go-Go Girls & more!
Free entry for all NYBF ticket holders and performers!
at Lucille’s Bar
VIP ticket holders are guaranteed premiere floor seating, please arrive with your full party!
Sunday, Oct 4: The Golden Pastie Awards
Le Poisson Rouge
Doors Open at 7pm
Show Starts at 8pm
158 Bleecker, Thompson / Sullivan
by J.D. Oxblood
I’ve never really had a strong feeling about New Year’s—other than the general sinking feeling that it was amateur’s night out, that every bar would be packed with misbehaving D-bags, that the drivers on the road lack the training necessary for successful drunk driving, etc. For me, the year begins in September. Accepting that the Gregorian calendar is largely arbitrary, accepting that other traditions dictate a different “reset button”—see Chinese New Year, or Rosh Hashana, which, this year, fell coincidentally in line with my thesis—let’s face it, we’re all trained from a young age to think of the year resetting when school starts. For at least 18 years, September marks the beginning of a new year. Fresh yellow Ticonderogas with perfectly flattened ends, smelling vaguely of sawdust; a spanking new Trapper Keeper; stiff Huskys and Lees; a new schedule to learn and new classes to ditch; new teachers to break in, new students to be eyed by, new girls to check out and assess slutability. For all its impending sense of dread and end, Fall has always smelled like the beginning.
by J.D. Oxblood
I know, I know, we’ve been bad little bloggers. Between my out-of-country exploits in August and the proprietor’s impending nuptials, we’ve been a little slammed. And my “Back to School” story is SO late my editor is threatening to dock my wages—which, being nonexistent, provides little leverage as threat. So consider this notice: We’re coming back, and we’re coming back in force. Brace yourself for the New York Burlesque Festival. And before I rave over Isabella, one WAY belated thanks—Brian Newman, for having us at Duane Park to celebrate the bachelor party. Brian, you got class you ain’t even used yet. Thanks a million for taking care of us—that was a night to remember. (Too bad none of us do.)
So last night I went down to Tribeca to see the lovely, luscious, internet-lascivious Isabella Rosellini. I’ve been in love with her for 20 years, natch, so the chance to see her in person was a draw in and of itself. And yeah, she still looks fantastic. But her latest claim to fame—as if being Ingrid Bergman’s daughter wasn’t enough, or as if anyone could ever forget that scene in “Blue Velvet”—is the runaway internet hit “Green Porno,” now a book, complete with DVD of all the episodes so far. As Is put is so candidly, the internet has no business model, no way for the artists to get paid, “no way to bring the money back.” Seeing how the Redford rubles (Sundance) only foots the production bill, releasing a book is a way for everyone to cash in. And here I am in Tribeca watching “Green Porno” with a bunch of strangers.
In honor of Summer’s last hurrah I went biking down to the Rockaways to sample the newly famous Rockaway Tacos. We had fish tacos topped with the spiciest sauce in the sauce rack, Mexican style corn on the cob, roasted with cheese, and some delicious home made lemonade.
Playground in South Williamsburg. I think if you play long enough aliens talk to you out of a crackling cloud.
Do you advocate equal rights for everyone? Of course you do. Who would say (in public) that they don’t want equal rights, a level playing field, and equal protection under the law? OK, we both know who would say such things (ahem, Limbaugh). But there are more of us than them, and it’s important that they know it. That’s why the National Equality March has been organized to take place in Washington D. C. on October 11th. It is of the utmost importance that the most people march for equality as possible to remind our elected representatives that their constituents support basic human dignity and the right to life, liberty, and happiness for men, women, and children, people of all races and creeds, monetary ability, and sexual and gender orientation.
In order to make sure that all New Yorkers who lack transportation but want to attend the march can, Christine Elmo and Kim Braun are throwing a fundraiser at Jimmy’s 43 in Manhattan. The fun includes performances by burlesque star Red Sonja, musical acts by Shani E. Manor and Siobhan O’Malley, and a cabaret act featuring Jay Paranada, Laura Nell Dubuisson, Megan Buzzard, Calvin Thompson and Roderick Borden with accompanist Rachel Kaufman.
If this were in China one might call it “Chinglish.” But this sign is in a bathroom in Midtown Manhattan, in an upscale Indian deli. Those of us who claim English heritage can’t help but take a little pride in the fact that our oppressive, imperialist forebears spread our language and culture so far and wide that we don’t have to learn another language. English is the lingua franca of the world. Even though there are more than 1,500 languages spoken in India, I can travel the whole of the subcontinent without knowing a word of any of them. (Thank you T. B. Macaulay!) Sure, that means I can be a bit condescending and simultaneously ignorant, but what do you want? An ethno-linguistic anthropologist?
