We had tickets for American Idiot at the Taper on the 29th but switched them to the 31st. I’d seen a version of American Idiot at the Ahmanson years ago and didn’t like it. So, I certainly wasn’t going to miss a Dodger World Series game for some stupid political play whose views I didn’t share. I suggested to Gordon that his life might be easier if I just skipped it altogether. I even told Gordon if they started all that anti-American, anti-Republican bullcrap I’d walk out and wait for him in a bar someplace. My whining didn’t make a dent. He just looked at me. So I went.
It was Halloween and I thought of wearing my vampire fangs, just to add a little entertainment value to an evening I was dreading. But vampire fangs would make me look weird—well, weirder than usual—and get in the way of drinking wine. I grumpily followed Gordon to our seats where I discovered a shortbread cookie with frosting showing the CTG (Center Theater Group) logo. Normally, we get a treat at the beginning of the Ahmanson season. And last year a woman grabbed our treat and gave it to her kids which I thought took a lot of crust. She also planted her kids in our seats. We had to get the usher to move them. I felt bad for the kids, it wasn’t their fault. Their entitled mother put them in that position. But they already got my treat; they weren’t going to get my seat too. But that’s another ugly story
I was still determined to walk out if things got political. I’ve had it. I’m not familiar with most of Green Day’s music but I the images used in the early version were all “GOOD Far Left; BAD everybody else”. This version, put on by the Deaf West company, stayed balanced. The anger seemed to be directed at the media and the influence it has. And, of course, I agree with that. The lyrics were displayed in a multi-media format so I understood what the actors were singing about. Three deaf actors signed the lyrics and their shadow-partners sang them. It was interesting. I actually liked the show. The music was about how hard growing up is. The young make life-changing decisions and terrible mistakes. It’s not particularly profound but the staging was imaginative, the dancing was energetic, and the singers were effective. Kudos to the young lady whose costume came apart. She didn’t miss a beat and belted out her song. Good job.
It’s an interesting show. Glad to see the Taper management is trying to produce plays not political rallies. This needs to be encouraged. Ge see it.
I have to add: the shortbread cookie was beautiful but tasted like cardboard. Gordon is SO lucky I can bake.
We went to see Kimberly Akimbo at the Pantages last night. It’s always an adventure going to Hollywood. You have to dodge the homeless, crazy traffic…even the sidewalk was closed to through pedestarian traffic last night. We paid $28.50 to park across the street (when the most you pay to park all day is $25 but what the hell), navigated our way through sidewalk blocks, the security line, and the mobs in the lobby to get to our seats. A couple who has been behind us for years introduced themselves. I think they were feeling a bit lost. The couple who sat next to them for the last ten or so years quit their subscription because they lived out in Westlake and the drive was just too much for them. So I guess we’ll have to hang together as the last old-timers standing.
I didn’t know anything about Kimberly Akimbo. The title comes from an anagram made by a fellow student on the main character, Kimberly whatever her last name was. Kimberly has porphyria, a genetic condition that ages her. She’s 16 but looks much, much older. She’s new to town for reasons that come to light in the second act so she’s lonely. The show starts with her at the skating rink wistfully watching the other kids and waiting for her father to pick her up. Turns out the kids she’s watching are outsiders too. They all know there are parties all over town but they’re not invited to any.
The kids finally find each other and get strong-armed into a check stealing scam by Kimberly’s crazy, criminal aunt. Kimberly’s dysfunctional family plays a major part in Kimberly’s decisions. Her father is a hen-pecked drunk, her mother is a narcissist, and they both blame Kimberly for their lousy lives.
People with Kimberly’s condition don’t survive long past their 16th birthdays and on Kimberly’s Sweet 16 party (she finally has a party!) she decides to quit letting her toxic family stop her from living. She and her lab partner, who’s another abandoned child),take off for an adventure with the aunt’s ill-gotten gains.. Good for them!
It’s an enjoyable, life-affirming show. None of us knows how much time we have so we should live our best lives and not be dragged down by negativity. I think the moral of the story is: If you have to run to save yourself, do it. We all deserve some happiness
I enjoyed the show although I think it would have been more effective in s smaller venue, like the Taper. There are only 9 people in the cast, and they’re all great, but they get swallowed up in a theater the size of the Pantages. But it wasn’t politics and that’s worth a lot.
It was hot yesterday, and I wanted popcorn, so Gordon and I drove over to the Burbank AMC to see Coppola’s Megalopolis. I wanted to see why the movie opened so poorly. The trailer was spectacular; what could have gone so wrong? Well, it’s a fable comparing the United States with the Roman Empire at its decline. I think it’s based in New York because they showed the Chrysler Building. It opened with a party scene. Lots of drugs and sex, showing how decadent the age is. Rich people partied and poor people watched from behind fences. Adam Driver played the Howard Roark/Elon Musk genius-type who dreams of building a utopian city (Megalopolis) with a material of his own design. But he spends his time when he’s not designing stoned to the bone and having sex with a TV news personality. The city is controlled by two families who are basically oligarchs, and everybody is fighting for power. I picked up lots of Ayn Ran themes (( think) and lots of references to ancient philosophers. There’s a murder of our genius’ wife, or maybe it’s suicide. Not sure. The daughter of the mayor falls in love with the genius and has a baby with him but they can’t marry because it would cause problems with her father. The ‘news’ woman leaves our hero to marry the aging head of a rival family and screws his son. Or maybe it’s his grandson. Anyway, she’s in it for the power and the money. She’s killed off and all the bad stuff turns around—which is a comment on the current state of journalism, IMO. At the end, they all decide the world would be a better place if they all worked together for the future of the baby. It was sort of a kumbaya moment. Anyway, that’s what I came away with. I was confused. My husband is a very smart man and he didn’t get it either. His comment was, “You owe two films for that one.” So I’ll probably be at a shoot-‘em-up soon.
On a positive note the sets were stunning, the trailer didn’t lie, and I loved the costumes. Adam Driver delivered a lovely Hamlet’s soliloquy although I’m not sure why it was included. The actors did the best they could, but the script was a self-indulgent mish-mash of philosopher’s quotes. I know the script writers probably wanted to show off how smart they were (“See? I’ve read all this stuff!”) but the movie would have been better off with a coherent plot.
Oh, and the popcorn was fresh. Only problem was the A/C. I forgot to bring my sweatshirt and I almost froze to death. Gave me an excuse to cuddle with Gordon. We made out in the back row like teenagers! That was more fun than the movie.
I was buzzing around this morning, busily washing a large portion of the living room floor, collecting my sander and sandpaper, stain and varathane. Gordon halted me in mid-bustle to ask what the hell was I doing? I pointed out an area in the floor that we had replaced and refinished a long time ago—25 or 30 years. We’d hired a floor refinishing company because the owner was deaf. It was a pity hire. I’ll never do that again. The crew he brought in did a terrible job. He only showed up to collect the check and didn’t respond to any of our complaints. I’m still trying to fix some of the stuff his crew did. Some of the new flooring buckled when they finished it. I’m told they didn’t let the wood acclimate or whatever the word is. So, I was planning on sanding down the buckled part, staining it, and finishing it. Gordon pointed out that if anything when slightly wrong (like the stain not matching, the varathane slopping into a new area, etc.), the mushroom factor was terrifying. He reminded me of the time he told me not to saw through a support beam in the kitchen many moons ago when we were starting to redo the house. He referred me to the phone call he got at work. Me: “Hey, you know that beam you told me not saw through and what would happen if I did? Well, you were right.” I remember I couldn’t even get the saw loose, it was stuck in the beam. He had to come home early and prop up that part of the kitchen. I pointed out that it made us get to work on the kitchen but he wasn’t happy with me. I got a good scolding and I couldn’t argue back. He was right. So, when he sees me wandering around with tools he makes sure I’m doing the right thing. Today he talked me into calling a professional and having the floors refinished. It’s time I guess. And these floors are 100 years old. There aren’t many sands left in the them. I need someone who knows what they’re doing. And it saves me time and energy. Good deal.
We were invited to the Hollywood Bowl by one of Gordon’s business buddies. She has a box and said food would be provided but suggested that if I wanted to bring a pie for dessert (hint, hint) it would be welcome. So, I made a lemon meringue pie. It’s easy to carry and you don’t to pack ice cream. I like to keep the schlepping to a minimum. It was a perfect for the Bowl. We’d just gotten over a heat wave and the weather was pleasantly cool. June, Gordon’s friend, has a deal set up where she valet parks and someone hauls our crap to the box. They set us up with wine and food and cleaned up afterwards. I’ve never been waited on like that at the Bowl. I could learn to live that way—if I could afford it. The food was so-so but the pie was a big hit. People in the surrounding boxes stared enviously. There’s something to be said for not growing up with much money. You learn how to do stuff. And if I do say so myself, my pie crust is almost as good as my Danish grandmother’s. We divided up the pie for people to take home for breakfast. Then the staff cleaned up after us, got rid of the tables, and turned our chairs for the concert.
It was a lovely program. Dudamel conducted Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms which was nice but the real treat was after intermission when the LA Phil performed Beethoven’s Ninth. It was quite a production. The soloists were wonderful and the LA Master Chorale was spectacular—but then, they always are. I noticed that the strings were miked but that didn’t distort the sound. I grinned through the whole thing and the audience stood and roared. Who knew that the LA Phil were rock stars?
We collected our stuff and June led us to her car which had been parked near the exit. Then the staff escorted us out the parking lot before anyone else. I have never felt so privileged. June says it’s her treat to herself. Better to give the money to the Hollywood Bowl than the guvmint. I agree. I’d pay anything to avoid that parking lot mess. Anyway, it was a special night at the Bowl. We’re going to miss Dudamel but I think it’s time for a change. I hope we get the next wunderkind. The LA Phil seems to specialize in finding them. And New York needs Dudamet. They’re struggling.
And if June wants to invite us again, I’m always up for it. And I’ll make the pie.
We had a big week at the theater. Last Tuesday, we went to Clue at the Ahmanson. Super cast. It was a masterclass in timing. Mark Price, playing Wadsworth, stopped the show with choreographed recitation. The whole show was carefully choreographed and the cast worked with it seamlessly. I suppose I should point out specific performances, but they were all wonderful. If you’re looking for an action-packed, comedic who-dunnit, this is your show. It runs for an hour and a half without intermission so pee before you go. What a relief to laugh again…
Wednesday night we saw Company at the Pantages. The twist on this version is: Bobby is a girl! And the character change isn’t labored; it actually works. Bobby enters with balloons celebrating her 35th birthday-accompanied by the sound of a ticking clock. This Bobby has a biological clock to motivate her to make some decisions in her life. Briitney Coleman is a charming Bobby. She’s a wonderful comedic actress with a terrific voice. I really enjoyed her performance. Another change is, it’s no longer Amy, it’s Jamie. And gay men are just as nervous about getting married as straights. Matt Rodin plays a manic Jamie and does the patter song brilliantly. Very funny. I enjoyed the three guys who sang You Could Drive a Person Crazy. The song was changed from an Andrew Sisters sound, which would have been strange with men, to more of a chorus boy sound. It worked but I wonder what it would have sounded like if they’d reworked it into a doowop thing. Hmm. Anyway, the whole cast was great, as was the staging. I enjoyed it. So did the rest of the audience. It got a standing ‘O’. Of course, you get a standing ‘O’ in Los Angeles if you don’t fall off the stage, audiences aren’t very discerning, but this show earned it. Lots of fun. Go see it.
Gordon and I went to the Peacock Theater downtown last night to attend the 50th anniversary showing of Blazing Saddles with an hour and a half Q&A with Mel Brooks afterward.
I hadn’t seen the movie in years and I’d forgotten how completely politically incorrect it was. The audience was laughing helplessly at the fart jokes and the double entendres. We all gasped at the free use of the “N” word but it’s just a word, for goodness sake. Rude, crude, and not to be used in polite company but just a word. Brooks makes fun of everyone and everything. I guess that’s why the mockery is accepted. No one is spared. And I’d forgotten that Brooks had written the songs too. I loved Madelein Kahn when she sang “I’m Tired”. I loved all the performances. Lots of fun.
In the Q&A Mel mentioned that Cleavon Little adlibbed a lot and Brooks used a lot of them. He said the one he couldn’t use was during the blackout scene when Kahn says, “Is it true about your people’s gifts? Oh it’s true, it’s true.” Brooks said Little quipped, “I’m sorry to disillusion you, ma’am, but you’ve been sucking on my arm.” Mel said it was too dirty. THAT was too dirty? I’d have left it in.
Brooks mentioned that his real name was Melvin Kaminsky and I wondered if that’s where they got the title, The Kaminsky Method”. Or is it spelled differently? Guess I’ll never know. Anyway, Brooks was asked if he do a sequel to Spaceballs. He said he love to. He even talked to Rick Moranis and Moranis was on board as Dark Helmet but MGM (owned by Amazon now) owns the rights so he’d have to see. Brooks is 98 years old and still sharp and ready to work. I hope I age that well.
Our ship had to dock about an hour and a half away from Venice. Apparently, all the cruise ships roiled the water around the city so much they worried about being swamped so big cruise ships can no longer lock anywhere near the city. We took a boat shuttle. It was a nice ride. We got to see lots of islands and the guide described life around the lagoon. We docked about 5 minutes from St. Mark’s Square and got ready to follow our lollipop-wielding guide. I no longer felt stupid about following the lollipop around. It meant I got to skip the long lines to the Doge’s Palace. We’d signed up for a tour called Secrets of the Doge’s Palace. We started in the dungeon. The guide showed us the cells and the torture chamber. That was creepy. The guide said the only person who escaped from the dungeons was Casanova. Apparently, his sexual escapades offended the local officials so they locked him up. But since he was a noble he got to wear his rich clothing. The story goes that he and an imprisoned priest, who was locked up for having three children (big no-no for someone who’s supposed to be celibate), traded tools and helped each other dig out to the corridor. Then they walked out the front door after convincing the guard that they’d been locked in after hours by mistake. Talk about chutzpa. Interesting side bit: the Doge’s office was above the dungeon. It was very plain. He was there to conduct business not to be in luxurious surroundings. Our politicians could learn something here. We ended the official tour in the public areas. The art was spectacular. The building was smaller than Versailles but every bit as impressive. The guide cut us loose for free time and Gordon and I inspected the armory exhibit and marveled over the public rooms again. Then we got lost. Somehow we got back in the dungeons and couldn’t find our way out. We passed over the Bridge of Sighs—from the inside which was not encouraging. . We followed the signs and walked and walked. I commented to Gordon that it was like being in Ikea. He said, “No Swedish meatballs.” True. We finally found the bookshop so we knew the end was near and, after a few more twists and turns, we found our way out. I needed a break so we found a restaurant in St. Mark’s square. Gordon ordered a sandwich that came with a basket cover. We were told it was to keep the pigeons from fighting him for his sandwich. Apparently, they’re quite aggressive. I ordered an amaretto with a water back. Having an aperitif on St. Mark’s Square as I observed the (other) tourists was on my bucket list and I can cross that one off. We caught the shuttle back to the ship and took a nap before dinner. There was no show that evening because we were supposed to pack and get ready for departure the next day. We said “Goodbye” to Billy and Dawn at dinner. They’d been on a week-long cruise of Greek islands before we got there, and they were ready to go home. Besides, Dawn said they’d been to Venice about five times, so they didn’t need to see it again. They were fun people to tour with. Independent and no drama. Gordon and I went back to our suite, packed, and had our luggage outside our door by 10 pm, per instructions. I was going to miss that suite.
Next day, we had breakfast and got on our shuttle by 9. We took the 1 ½ hour shuttle and were dropped off at the Hilton Hotel. I was afraid we’d be wandering around like lost souls for a few hours because it was too early to check in but by the time we got to the front desk it was noon. They told us our room was ready so we got to check in early, thank God. I don’t remember doing much for the rest of the day. We walked around Hilton area and inspected the hotel. We found some restaurants within walking distance but we ended up having dinner at the hotel. The food was good. We had early night.
We took the boat across the lagoon next for St. Mark’s Square again. We thought about touring St. Mark’s cathedral, but the lines were around the block. Besides, we were burnt out on cathedrals. They’re all lovely but they sort of blur in my memory after a while. We spent the day shopping. I found some earrings and a Medoran (I think that’s what it’s called. It’s one of the islands that make glass) glass necklace that I initially bought as a Christmas tree ornament. I found an actual ornament closer to the Rialto Bridge. We split a calzone for lunch at one of the little shops and enjoyed gelato. That area is a great place to shop if you can find your way out. Thank God I had Gordon; I’d still be wandering around if it weren’t for him. A British couple stopped us at one point. They were lost and Gordon seemed to know where he was going. He told them how to get back to St. Mark’s Square and everybody was happy. We took another way back to St. Mark’s Square to check out the cathedral again. The lines were even longer, if possible, so we took a break for another drink. That’s my kind of touristing. We bought tickets for a boat tour down the Grand Canal before taking a boat back to the hotel to drop off our loot and to take another nap. Gittin’ old ain’t for sissies. Then we took another boat shuttle across the lagoon for our motor boat trip which was an adventure in itself. The shuttle would get close to the dock and we were supposed to hop off. There was a lot of turbulence in the lagoon due to all the small boats, so the dock bobbed one way and the boat bobbed another. And I bobbed in the middle somewhere, trying not to fall in the drink. One of the dock workers was prepared; he grabbed my hand and pulled me on the dock before I could fall. Thank God. We’d discussed taking a gondola tour (it looks so romantic!) but it took two hours and we don’t have the attention span—or the romance, frankly. I can look lovingly into Gordon’s eyes for maybe five minutes but two hours? Nope. Our motorboat trip was lovely and it only took an hour. We went back to the hotel for an early night. We had to be up by three the next morning to catch the boat shuttle to the airport. We got to the airport so early, the VIP lounge was just setting up. But we had coffee and a roll with some fruit and that’s was plenty. Our flight was non-stop from Venice to Los Angeles, and I slept most of the way. I love business class. No swollen ankles or exhaustion after that long flight. We got home at about 2 in the afternoon. I thought Maggie would disappear for a day. That’s my punishment. But when she heard my voice, she blasted in through the cat door, mewing constantly. I had to pick her up and she wouldn’t let me put her down for about ten minutes. Nice to know she missed me. Also nice to know she didn’t pout at me. Interesting little cat.
It was a great trip and I recommend it highly. We’ve been talking to Billy and Dawn about another trip. Think we’re going to tour the British Isles; Billy’s family comes from England, Gordon has Scottish ancestry, and I’m half Irish . Looking forward to it. Gordon and I have to do this stuff while we can still walk. Although we probably won’t pay for a suite. I’m too cheap. On the other hand, who’ve we got to leave it to? I’m reviewing the situation…
The next stop was Dubrovnik, Croatia. Dubrovnik is an ancient walled city surrounded by mountains and the sea. Very picturesque. Our guide explained the history of the place and the fact that very few people live in the old part of the city. For one thing, it’s inundated with tourists. For another, I don’t think they allow the residents to modify their apartments so electrical and plumbing must be a problem. The guide said she lives outside the walls, and it takes her 20 minutes to get to work at her summer job of being a guide. I think she said she taught French at the university during the winter months. Sounds a lot like the US. She talked about the 1991 war but didn’t explain what it was about. She just said that it was started by the Montenegrins who come over to apologize every now and then. She said she was too young to really remember much about it but there are still lots of hard feelings. We toured the Franciscan monastery and apothecary, the world’s oldest working pharmacy. Then she cut us loose for private time. We wandered the streets which are geared for tourists. Game of Thrones was filmed in Dubrovnik and there are shops dedicated to the series. One of the shops even had a copy of the Iron Throne. I thought about having my picture taken with it but it looked really uncomfortable. We kept seeing signs (in English!) telling about the 1991 war. The signs mostly were reminiscences of the day the war started. The bombing started at 5 a.m. without warning and caused a lot of damage. Maps showed what had been destroyed but never said what started the war. So we googled it. When Tito died some of the countries who’d been forced into one country called Yugoslavia wanted independence. The centralists didn’t want to let them go. So what is now Montenegro bombed what is now Croatia. There aren’t many signs of the war left. It’s a beautiful country. And they love Hollywood.
We went back to the ship and Gordon joined me by the pool but we didn’t stay long. We played Trivia and got our butts kicked. An English bunch next to us listened to us argue and took our answers. They also ‘corrected’ our paper and said some of our right answers were wrong. Stupid way to win a stupid game but I was glad the colonists revolted in 1776. And I know why, too. Bloody buggers.
Dinner was a seafood buffet on the forward deck, and we met Billy and Dawn there. I loved the food, but Gordon went to the world café and got food there. He’s’ not a lobster, shrimp, or crab lover. He asked for milk again and, again, the staff thought he was nuts. But they brought him a glass of milk—over ice. It was a lovely night outside.
Next day we toured the town of Split, one of the oldest cities in Croatia. We toured the ancient Roman palace of Emperor Diocletian. The subterranean chambers were originally used for storage, I think (they’re very cool) but most recently they were used as the dragons’ den in Game of Thrones. We enjoyed the ruins of the palace and were let loose for private time. Gordon and I went to the area the guide called the upscale shopping district. It’s where the locals shop. There was some nice stuff but nothing I couldn’t live without. My problem was I kept setting off the alarm. I set it off going into the store. I obviously hadn’t stolen anything, so the security guy waved me through. Unfortunately, when I came out, I set off the alarm again. People came running but the guard just said, “Oh, it’s you. It’s okay.” And waved me on. We stopped at the town square for a coffee and a rest. I liked watching life as the locals live it. Very civilized. No muggings, no shootings, no riots. I could get used to it.
After a light dinner, Gordon and I went to the last show onboard. They did a Beatles medley. I enjoyed the light show and the musicians, but the singers? Meh. The girls weren’t bad. Not much stage presence but not bad but the two boys? Very pitchy. I expected better. I compared them to the entertainment on our American Queen Mississippi cruise. Extraordinary talent. Americans may not have ancient history, but we can put on a show. We went to bed right after the show. We had a tour of Venice the next day.
Well in the courtyard of the Franciscan monastery in Dubrovnik
This is us being tired tourists in the courtyard of Split
