Category: theater

A Christmas Carol: A Small Town Play Done The Right Way

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The stage adaptation of Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol returned to Tam’s School Street Playhouse in Cumming, Georgia this holiday season. The classic focuses on the transformative Christmases in the life of Ebenezer Scrooge, an elderly, rich miser who allowed devastating losses to blind him to life leaving only an “odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man.” Brought back after a multi-year hiatus by Martin Baker of MGBaker Productions in conjunction with director Lisa Sherouse Riley and set designer G. Scott Riley, this family-friendly drama showcases the professionalism and range of local theater. 

I attended opening night, and, again, for their tenth performance, getting a feel for the play from wet paint to shine. Instead of treating this production as a minor work for a 200-seat theater in a restored schoolhouse at the northern edge of metro Atlanta, everyone put in the hours and effort to make this as polished as any equity performance at the Fox Theater in downtown Atlanta. Both showings were a triumph of storytelling and a joy to witness.  

Opening Night November 29, 2019. Photo by Egg Embry

THE STARS OF THE PRODUCTION: THE SET 

For the audience, the look of the world upon the stage is a critical first impression. To bring 1800s London to life and accommodate a variety of locations onstage, G. Scott Riley built a revolving stage with transformable wings on each side. Utilizing the entire space, the effect is a widescreen view of the fronts and rooms of Dicken’s world. Actors can enter stage right, speak to Londoners in the street, step onto the revolving stage, open the door to Scrooge and Marley’s, and enter into the office as three stagehands seamlessly rotate the platform to display the interior to the audience. Combined with outstanding wardrobe by Cheryl Rogers (whose singing voice in the play should be celebrated), makeup, and lighting, these production values exceeded my expectations.  

Ebenezer, the Cratchits, and ensemble. Photo from the collection of Joe Goode (Back row, center, holding Tiny Tim).

THE STARS OF THE PRODUCTION: THE CLEVER PLACEMENT OF MUSIC 

Done in two acts, the play runs around 2 hours and 15 minutes with an intermission after the Spirit of Christmas Past scenes. While the stage is designed to facilitate scene transformations in under a minute, actors going through wardrobe changes require more time. Portrayed by Pendleton Brown, Ebenezer Scrooge is the driving protagonist, growing scene after scene. The character’s story requires a variety of costume changes switching from multilayered 1800s business suit to multilayered 1800s nightgown and cap. While the set might go from office to bedroom in an instant, buttoned and tied clothes require more time. To mask the work and maximize the use of the sets, Lisa Sherouse Riley strategically places musical numbers throughout the production. All era-appropriate hymns and carols, these moments allow the cast to be onstage (what the actors signed up for) singing while heightening the audience’s illusion that they are peeking in on a Christmas nearing 200 years gone by.  

THE STARS OF THE PRODUCTION 

Running just fifteen shows, the amount of polish and passion behind this production is staggering. But no matter how well-written or directed, no play can stand if its cast fails. Populated with local Atlanta talent trained in varied theatrical disciplines, this production showcases a range of dramatic styles from theatrical to method while boasting some angelic singing. The cast brings a level of facility and competence I would not suspect for a local production. 

As mentioned, Pendleton Brown plays the central miser. A professional of the stage, his talents led to employment in New York and Hollywood. For Broadway, he performed in Soon with Richard Gere and Saint Joan with Lynn Redgrave. On television, his work appeared on Hill Street Blues, Knight Rider, Knots Landing, and more. Pendleton delivers a performance that highlights why he worked on Broadway. Balanced between moments of comedy, grief, joy, and revelation, his presence elevates the role to a level that many movies and major productions would envy. His craft is a joy to behold as his Ebenezer relives the character’s cardinal moments. During the Fezziwig dance scene, ten actors step into the aisle of the theater and promenade. Onstage, Ebenezer watches, begins moving to the rhythm, becomes caught up in the joy of the memory, and, by the end, “joins” the ghostly merriment clearly wishing to stay the night. As he dances, the years and the hardedge of Scrooge fall away leaving an old man who had forgotten the vibrance of his youth; all emotions intricately conveyed by Pendleton’s work.  

 

 

However, this is not a one person show and the rest of the cast – 35 in total – deserve praise. The key rolls – Tiny Tim, Bob Cratchit, Fred, Jacob Marley, and the Spirits – are handled by an excellent cast of sure handed veterans and talented newcomers. Joe Goode’s Bob Cratchit is the earnest laborer you root for, the father figure whose heart is filled with dedication to duty, family, and Christmas cheer. Joe conveys Bob’s good nature, yet manages the humor of the scenes and the depth of Bob’s pain when his son passes. His real-life son plays Tiny Tim and is the definition of adorable as he rides dad’s shoulder and delivers his iconic line.  

Sam North plays Scrooges’s nephew, Fred. It’s a character of levity and good cheer and Sam sells it with his terrific laugh. Throughout the play, he laughs and makes merry and it conveys Fred’s love of the season. 

Each of the Spirits – Abby Shoemake’s Christmas Past, Gary Heffelfinger’s Christmas Present, and Matthew English’s Phantom – has an air of authority combined with a unique feel: The leader of Parliament to the host of the party to the ferryman, each takes their role in a specific direction that delineates each time period and focus.  

Justin Collins plays Jacob Marley and deserves a special note for his dedication. The makeup and outfit he dons visualizes the weight and suffering of Marley. He appears early in the play, somewhere around the 30-minute mark. After the play, everyone comes out to see the audience as they leave. Like all of the Spirits, he’s still in his full makeup and has been for not quite two hours when the production ends. His personal dedication to being there for handshakes and fan photos in full attire is worthy of applause.  

Photo from the collection of Joe Goode.

THE STARS OF THE PRODUCTION: THE SCENES 

While every scene and actor captivate with their performances, there are a few scenes that stand out for the strength of their moments.  

  • The breakup between Kylee Bowen’s Belle and Clint Colclasure’s twenty-something Scrooge is a hard scene as it dredges up the heartache of young love. When Clint’s Scrooge cannot hear the screams of Pendleton’s Scrooge to go after her, instead he walks off, the 20/20 hindsight is heartbreakingly felt.  
    • For what it’s worth, Clint adds another dash of Hollywood to the production bringing a resume that includes appearances as a background actor in Good Deeds, The Hunger Games, The Vampire Diaries, and more.  
  • Another of Joe Goode’s children plays young Fan, the sister who comes to get young Scrooge. Her excitement at getting to bring her brother home can be felt throughout the theater.  
    • Yet more Hollywood: The child actor playing young Scrooge has been on the movie sets of Instant Family and Doctor Sleep as well as the TV show, Insatiable.  
  • No scene in A Christmas Carol is more emotional than Bob’s return to the Cratchit home without Tiny Tim. It’s a devastating scene of loss and the ultimate horror for a parent. In this version, the sorrow is deepened by Rebecca J. Bozarth’s Mrs. Cratchit. No stage tears, no artificial weeping, Rebecca spends her time between scenes bringing herself down from a happy, devoted wife earlier in the play to a mother who has lost her most beloved child. The tears, the stagecraft, it transforms a dark scene into a funeral. There’s a poignant touch at the close of the scene as Bob cradles Tim’s cane, Mrs. Cratchit knells with him, and the spotlight tightens in. This scene turns on the despondency Mrs. Cratchit feels even as she puts on a brave face for her family, and it impacts everyone in the audience.   
    • Full disclosure, Rebecca is my girlfriend, so I’m biased in my opinion, but not wrong. Every scene and song in the play ends with applause. It’s community theater and the audience cheers each movement. However, when the scene at the Cratchit home ends, the audience is silent. No clapping as every audience member contemplates the hollowness of the loss of a child; it’s a horrific epiphany expertly delivered.   

Photo from the collection of Joe Goode.

THE STARS OF THE PRODUCTION: THE DIRECTOR  

I’ve spoken of the high level of competence demonstrated in this play and so much of that is owed to the director and co-author, Lisa Sherouse Riley. Her work shows a deft hand as every scene comes together. Local plays have tiny budgets, limited casting options, and no time to rehearse, yet Lisa’s work shows a degree of expertise that you’d never realize any of those challenges were a factor. Without her, this production would have been a humbug.  

In her letter in the playbill, she summarizes what this story means to her:  

“When growing up Christmas was always a time for families and friends coming together, being remembered and appreciated. Christmas has always been special to me as the years have gone by I have found that A Christmas Carol, whether watching the movie or seeing it on stage, brought back the magic and joy of Christmas that sometimes seems to have gotten lost in the hustle and bustle of everyday life.” 

I’ve seen the play twice and plan to attend again in 2020. I can think of no higher praise than it was worth every cent, the time invested, and the time taken to write this review. 

 

DATES AND LOCATION 

The play runs from November 29, 2019 to December 15, with 8pm performances every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, as well as a matinee at 2pm on Saturday and 3pm on Sunday. Performed at Tam’s School Street Playhouse, located at 101 School Street in Cumming, Georgia, the stage is housed within the 1923 Cumming Public School, a structure named to the National Register in 2000.

The production gave special thanks to Tuxedo WearHouse. The play is sponsored by Lou Sobh Honda. Follow Tam’s School Street Playhouse on Facebook here, read a brief mention in the Forsyth County News here, Joe Goode’s montage of images from the play (above) can be found here, and you can purchase tickets for this and upcoming performances here.  

Not A Review – A Quiet Place

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Spoilers will not follow…

Because I have not seen this movie yet.

Yes, it is a strange thing to write about a movie without having seen it. But I have a reason for doing so… you see, this movie has already invaded my dreams.

This past weekend I had one dream from the time I closed my eyes until the time I woke up where I was in the world of A Quiet Place.

Now, without seeing the movie, the only thing my subconscious would have been able to glean was from what we see in the trailers themselves. And there is clearly something about it. I’m not sure if it is the premise: being hunted by things that rely on sound to find you. It might have been the spooky score they play during the trailer. Or it could even be the narrator, his low, gravelly voice breaking through my tv screen in order to make the hairs on my arms stand up. I wish I could know exactly what it was that set this dream in motion.

I think I’m lucky that I have pretty vivid dreams in full color. And most of the time even if I’m the main character of a dream, I’m somehow watching myself from behind the camera.

My dream version of the movie was pretty good (with a bit of strange dream logic, but I’ll let that slide). Very post-apocalyptic. In this, I was a part of a smallish group (maybe 12 people total) moving through the outskirts of where the suburbs end and the farmlands of Georgia begin. Where you get the occasional subdivision but can also not see a house for miles. We were the last ones in the area, somehow finding our way through the initial attack.

It was long stretches of walking, of waiting, of deeply disturbing moments when the sun had set and the little bit of whispering would happen. Everyone needing a small amount of connection with those they were surviving with, but not daring to go too far without there being any other thing that could possibly keep the monsters from hearing us, from tracking us to our lair. There were planned ambushes and being forced to leave people behind due to injuries, but…

It was the feeling that I remembered more than anything else. Thinking about it in the morning, it was clearly the feel I got watching the trailer. That no matter what, basic human nature dictates that we need to interact with others. That we need to be able to communicate. That sheer fear as one of them stalks you.

Normally these types of dreams would happen after I’d seen the movie, but this came before that. It became a movie that was obviously already on my radar before that night and now I’m just wondering if it will actually be too scary for my wife to want to see it or not.

Sometimes I let my dreams help me work out a story problem. Sometimes I go along for a ride I might never actually be able to do. I’ve jotted down ideas from dreams – fresh from waking up – but that feeling while they actually are happening can’t be duplicated. That dream logic will kick in and suddenly everyone is on scooters when we are traveling down a busy interstate. That feeling just can’t be recaptured in the same way because I don’t have the right foundation. So I wonder how it is going to be to actually watch the movie. Will it live up to my version? From everything I’m seeing on Facebook and from friends who went to see it – I think mine is going to be a very pale imitation.

Maybe in my head canon I can claim my idea takes place before the movie itself?

***

John McGuire is the creator/author of the steampunk comic The Gilded Age. Want to read the first issue for free? Click here! Already read it and eager for more?

Click here to join John’s mailing list.

His prose appears in The Dark That Follows, Theft & Therapy, There’s Something About Mac, Hollow Empire, Beyond the Gate, and Machina Obscurum – A Collection of Small Shadows.

He can also be found at www.johnrmcguire.com

Whiplash Movie Review

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JK2Disclaimer: This review is largely spoiler-free

A few weeks ago I reviewed George Miller’s screamingly loud and bone-crushingly good Mad Max – Fury Road.

This week’s movie, Whiplash, breaks only a few bones, but is almost as loud, and is definitely as good.

I’ll start with an admission: I’m late to the party. Very late. 2014’s Whiplash, directed by Damien Chazelle, has already earned three Oscar wins and numerous other accolades. That said, it’s my opinion that not enough people have been exposed to it. So if this review convinces even one person to check Whiplash out, I’ll claim success.

So…

Like Jazz music much? Maybe? Maybe not so much? It’s ok. While planted on my couch during a 1AM Redbox DVD screening of Whiplash, my first worries were: ‘This is a jazz movie. What was I thinking?? I should’ve picked something else. Or maybe just watched some porn.” And yet, two minutes in, any fears of drowning in discordant jazz and wonky music vanished. Into. Thin. Air.

Early on, we see a different J.K. Simmons than we’re used to. Gone is the friendly guy from the Farmers Insurance commercials. Gone is the affable, calm dude from J.K.’s previous films. Instead we get a badass. And I’m serious. As Fletcher, the leanest, meanest jazz instructor ever, J.K. is shredded. He’s an all-black-wearing, door-slamming, fist-shaking maniac. He’s a force of f’ing nature.

And it’s apparent he’s made it his mission in life to mold Andrew (played to perfection by young and talented Miles Teller) into the planet’s best drummer…or kill him in the process.

JK3

“Faster!”

As an interesting aside, it should be noted that Miles Teller played ALL his drum pieces. He had a head start, being born of a musical family, but even so. His dedication to learning some of Whiplash’s more extreme rhythms is admirable, and adds tons to the movie’s realism.

So what’s it really about?

Whiplash is primarily a struggle between two men. Fletcher’s win-at-all-costs mentality are at permanent odds with Andrew. Fletcher wants perfection, nothing less, from his musicians. And perhaps no instrument requires perfection more than drums. Andrew’s willing to bleed to become the best, but still manages to be overwhelmed by Fletcher’s never-ending stream of F bombs and insults. As the movie drums on, literally, the questions become: “Is greatness only achievable under enormous pressure?” and “Is there a such thing as going too far to win?” I know what MY answer is. If you watch or have already watched Whiplash, I want to know YOURS. Because therein lies Whiplash’s soul. It’s Pain versus Reward. Sacrifice versus Greatness. Living a full life versus Having a Singular Dedication. The movie puts us in the proxy position of asking how far we’d go to be the best at something.

Would you bleed? Would you suffer? Would you give up every comfort? Most of us wouldn’t. But perhaps Andrew might.

The supporting cast is small, but more than capable. Veteran Paul Reiser plays Andrew’s concerned but ultimately powerless father. Beautiful Melissa Benoist charms as Andrew’s unfortunate love interest, Nicole. Austin Stowell and Nate Lang are formidable rivals in the studio for Andrew to wage war against. They’re all very good, but reduced to mere pawns in the Fletcher v Andrew struggle. And that’s ok. This isn’t their film. It’s J.K.’s and Miles’.

As another aside, if you like drums of any kind, you’ll love Whiplash’s talent, if nothing else. The speed and excellence demanded in the film transcend genres. It’s obvious this isn’t a movie about jazz at all. It’s about power, skill, and using means to justify the ends. But even if you don’t care about all of that, the drums…are…epic.

Let’s be clear. I Redboxed Whiplash on a hunch. I’d never heard of it prior to plugging it into my DVD player, and I’d no idea what to expect.

…which made it all the better when it turned out to be fucking awesome.

Rent it. Watch it. In the dark. Preferably alone.

And when you’re done, check out my latest philosophy title here.

Love,

J Edward Neill

What if…? The Wizard of Oz were a dark fantasy movie

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Witch

 

Welcome to the fourth installment of the What if…? series. Previous entries include dark remakes of The Lord of the Rings, Sleeping Beauty, and Star Wars. Like Mick Jagger, I see a red door and I want to paint it black.

Recently, I sat down with my son to watch The Wizard of Oz. I had plans to let him watch while I cooked, cleaned, and otherwise carved my way through the day. He’d watch a classic, and I’d get stuff done. It was a perfect plan. Etched in stone. Stronger than the foundations of the world. Right?

Wrong…

Twenty seconds in, we were both hooked. I’ve never seen a kid so rapt and silent, and I’m not even talking about my son. Every cool memory of watching The Wizard of Oz as a boy flooded my wee black little heart. I never got to my chores. We sat there, my son and I, and soaked the movie up in all its glory. We loved it. There’s no other way to put it.

So what’s the deal? How could The Wiz get any better? How dare I dream of what it’d be like to change it? It’s already perfect in every way, right? Right??

Maybe…

What if I tweaked the movie? A lot. What if it was a dark fantasy epic, an adult, R-rated, midnight-hearted feast? What if, instead of an American classic families crowd on couches to watch every year, it was a movie that dropped your jaw open, terrified you, and made you geniunely fear for Dorothy and her friends? What if…indeed?

 Let’s start at the bottom and work our way up. First and foremost, and I know I’ll get killed for this, but the dark version of The Wiz can’t be a musical. It just can’t. Instead of songs about rainbows and yellow brick roads, dark Dorothy needs to dream these things. As in dream them between her nightmares. Because let’s face it, this poor little girl almost lost her dog, ran away from home, whirled through an imaginary (or real?) tornado, and fell under the constant threat of a wicked witch. If she has dreams, at least some of them will be bad. So instead of cheery songs, I want scenes of her dreaming of the good life sandwiched between scenes of her dreaming of the horrors (let’s face it, Oz is a pretty messed up place) surrounding her.

Now that the singing is gone (or at least changed) we move along to the Witch. The bad one. The bad one who doesn’t have a house on her. She’s pretty creepy in the original. She’s got the evil castle, an army of flying monkeys, another army of British-guard looking dudes, and some nasty ideas for using her magic. So yeah, the foundation is laid. What we need now is screen time. More of it. I want to know why everyone hates her. I want to know why she’s wicked. Moreoever, I want her to win once in a while. Instead of getting walked on by Glinda, mildly splashed by Dorothy, and dismissed by Oz, I think she needs to kick some ass first. Why do the Munchkins hate her? Is it her green face and hook nose, or did she enslave an entire Munchkin city to build her castle? Why does Oz want her gone? Because she’s un-dateable as a fellow practitioner of magic? Or because she’s threatened to use her spells to corrupt all he’s worked to build? Give us 700% more Witch. And let her F things up in ways that obnoxious Glinda can’t just dismiss with a wave of her wand. Please?

And while we’re on the subjects of Glinda and Oz…

I’m fine with Oz the way he is. A megalomaniac. A king by way of opportunity, but not birthright. A techno-genius in a otherwise medieval-ish land. A liar and a faker, but ultimately not too terrible a guy. But once again, I need more of him. The movie is named after this dude, so let’s give him his due. I want secret labs beneath Oz. I want technological devices meant to destroy the Witch (and her sister) but not yet ready for service. If she has evil spells and armies of nasty critters, perhaps he has equally formidable forces. Fewer critters, but better weapons. More power, but more reluctance to use it. C’mon Dark Oz. Step it up.

And Glinda… Oh Glinda. If you can undo anything the Witch does with a wave of your wand, maybe you should do more. As in lots more. As in use your magic to take the bad Witch down. Otherwise, I need a reason. Maybe Glinda is a coward at heart. Maybe she’s only allowed to (total cop out) use her magic for good. Or maybe she once was a bad witch, and now she’s having doubts about destroying someone she used to be. Or maybe, deep down, she knows the Wicked Witch would crush her in a duel. Yeah. That’s the reason I’m going with. Glinda’s good ain’t good enough. She’s nothing but a meddler, a poker in the fire, but ultimately unable to stop the bad girls.

OzDirtRoad

The brown-scale stays. Eeriest part of the movie, in some ways, the colorless plains of Kansas.

Who lives:

Since it’s all just a dream (I think) and Dorothy’s friends are manifestations of the people she knows in real-life, we can’t kill off as many good guys as I usually would in a dark fantasy movie. So…the Scarecrow, Lion, Tin Man, ToTo, and Oz are all spared, as is Dorothy herself.

Who dies:

 Enslaved Munchkins who build the Wicked Witch’s fortress. Glinda’s sister, in a flashback being cooked by the Wicked Witch. Some of the flying monkeys and Oh-E-Oh! soldiers, cut down by the newer, badder Tin Man.

  And last but hardly least: the scenery. To grit up The Wiz, we need sharper, more monolithic representations of the wholesome set pieces in the original. The Wicked Witch’s Fortress: Smoking, haunted, macabre, and surrounded by a poisonous lake. The Emerald City: Huge and bustling, stuffed to the nines with Oz’s devices, inventions, and gadgetry. The Munchkin Village: Cute and merry as ever, but lying in the shadow of the previous village, turned to ash by the Wicked Witch. The Yellow Brick Road: Clear and easy to follow in some places, shrouded in darkness at others.

Oh, and btw, the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion are at heart magical beings. I mean…a metal man, a dude made out of horse food, and a talking lion…I figure all three were created either by Oz…or quite possibly even by the Witch herself. Dark Wiz of Oz will explain. Even if briefly.

Final disclaimer: the original movie kicks the shit out of my dark imagining. Don’t for second think I hope otherwise.

Catch you later,

Buy this.

J Edward Neill

 

 

Aim to Fall Short

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The_Book_of_Mormon_poster_2_

Before I get onto the subject at hand (the bravest and boldest thing I’ve ever done: praising the most-praised thing of the last decade), three quick bits:

1) I missed my last two posts due to the holidays, traveling, lack of wi-fi, and a harsh but luckily short head cold. Won’t happen again.

2) More importantly, I want to say congratulations to John McGuire for releasing his first novel, The Dark That Follows. I was one of the few that got to read the first draft, and I can’t wait to see what he’d done to it since. Pick it up and support the next square in this artistic quilt called Tessera we’re trying to sew.

3) Belated Happy Holidays.

Now that that’s over with, I move on to the point of this post:

I FINALLY GOT TO SEE THE BOOK OF MORMON THIS WEEKEND.

WARNING: We at Tessera have a No Religion / No Politics rule (which I endorse – I say enough biased and antagonizing shit in my own life), but, due to the nature of The Book of Mormon, the topic of religion will come up, but only in passing. However, if I say anything that I think anyone can at vaguely-kinda-at-all interpret as being maybe offensive to someone anywhere, I will write it in bold. Hopefully I won’t have to use that, but I figure it’s good to have it as a fail safe. Okay? Cool. Onto talking about the play…

So I don’t believe in God.

Wow. That came in useful right-quick, huh?

I state the above not to provoke, but because I think it’s pertinent when I talk about how much I love The Book of Mormon. Because, contrary to the opinions of a few, it is not an anti-religious work. Far from it, actually. It actually endorses having some sort of belief system, and a community based around it, to help you get through life. It’s primary thesis seems to be that while, yes, most religions look super-silly from an objective view, that doesn’t make them any less real to their practitioners, and it doesn’t mean they’re not an important part of the human condition. It is actually a plea for religious tolerance; the most Unitarian, “whatever gets you there gets you there” piece of popular art I have ever seen.

What The Book of Mormon is, though, is a searing screed against fundamentalism. It, not religion, is the true target of its derision and cutting humor (as well as a number of other topics).

But see, I’m just not non-religious. I am also largely anti-religious.

And again, I say that only to express that I should hate The Book of Mormon just based on its general conceit.

But it is impossible to do so. To hate The Book of Mormon. And not just because it is hilarious and smart, with curtain-to-curtain memorable songs and characters, and manages to be shockingly funny and genuinely moving…sometimes at the same time, but because it makes its case so well it almost wins me over to it. It makes me see the value of faith and religion. More than anything ever has, really. At the end of the play, for a few brief moments, I felt like a person of faith, moved by the words and sounds and ideas presented on stage.  I shrugged it off quickly, but still, for a man like me, that’s quite an accomplishment.

To those unfamiliar, The Book of Mormon is the multiple-Tony Award winning musical created by Trey Parker & Matt Stone (“South Park”) and Robert Lopez ( Avenue Q ). It opened on Broadway in 2011 to some of the best reviews in the history of theater and became an instant sensation. Tickets were both nearly impossible and impossibly expensive to get. The production I saw, at the Orpheum Theater in San Francisco, was part of its second U.S. tour. And it was still sold out, three years later, and the balcony seat I had was not cheap. This is a production that will be going on for a very long time.

bookofmormon-29e2b4c3aa2823816edf3d11925282cf13c08171-s6-c30The play is the story of two young Mormon boys about to go out on their first mission. Elder Price is a superstar and is destined to change the world with the power of his faith, destined, he believes, to do “something incredible.” Elder Price is awesome. Just ask him.

Elder Cunningham, who Price is paired up with on their mission, is not awesome. Well, he is, really, but he’s not an awesome Mormon. In fact, he hasn’t even read the book. And he’s also a compulsive liar, prone to making things up and telling stories, most of them cribbing characters from things like Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. He is not a model Mormon; he is not a model anything.

The two men are sent to a village in Uganda to convert the Africans there to Mormonism. The place they arrive is in desolate shape: poor, hungry, ravaged by AIDS, and under the boot of a vicious local warlord obsessed with female circumcision. Elder Price, despite his iron clad faith and God-given ability, has a very hard time seeing how he can baptize these folks into the Church of Latter Day Saints. Drama, doubt, and disappointment ensue.

And also lots of singing and dancing and jokes and profanity and a hundred other things that will make you smile ear to ear.

That’s all I’m going to talk about the story. I knew most of it going in. Not from doing research, but from downloading the soundtrack from iTunes several years ago and listening to it constantly. I know every word of the soundtrack. Just the songs alone, without the benefit of the play, are still amazingly funny and tell a story. So, to be honest, I was already a fan of The Book of Mormon before I ever saw The Book of Mormon.

Obviously, this late into the show’s run, most of the original Broadway cast have moved on. The cast I saw was not the cast that originated the parts. But the players in the San Francisco production acquitted themselves fabulously (sorry. musical review. must use “fabulously” at least once). The Saturday night audience ate it up and I loved every second of it. One of the best musicals I have ever witnessed, maybe the best, my other favorite being Spring Awakening.

So, in other words, “thumbs up”. I’m SURE the folks from the play will be relieved to get my endorsement. It may be the thing they need to put them over the top.

But what I really want to talk about isn’t The Book of Mormon (“Could have fooled me, asshole!”) but how Book of Mormon made me feel afterwards. On the train back from the theater, I fell deeply into a state of joyful melancholy that I call the “Genius Hangover.”

It’s a feeling I have encountered many times.

Experiencing something so brilliant – a play, a movie, an art exhibit, a TV show, a video game, a concert, a public speech, anything – always leaves me with conflicting feelings. Firstly, I am elevated, inspired, and, well, fucking jazzed. I walk out punching the air, ready to go. Determined to run home and write. Juices flowing. Basking in the glory of art and what it can do and the limitless heights it can reach. You can’t wipe the smile off my face. I probably skip down the street. It is quite a high.

I mean, a HUMAN BEING made that. A human being like me–

But not like me. Uh-oh. This is where the second wave of emotions comes in to ruin the party, creeping up through the cracks in my joy and strangling it like weeds:

Jealousy and despair.

Because I will never make anything that good. Oh man. I just won’t. I mean, that is world-class. That is classic. It will be remembered for all time. It’s not that I just won’t make something like that, it’s that I can’t . The person or persons who made that are more talented than me. And that’s a hard pill of an egomaniacal narcissist (read: artist) like me. I know I’m talented. I think I’m very talented.

hemingway-for-whom-the-bell-tollsBut I’m not For Whom the Bell Tolls talented. Not Seven Samurai talented. Not “West Wing” talented.

I’m not The Book of Mormon talented.

So the high I get from seeing something amazing and the depression I get from seeing something amazing come together to create the slurry of a mood I call Genius Hangover. It usually sticks with me for a day or two. A combination of an overwhelming desire to create something great and a sadness that I’ll never create something as great as whatever inspired me.

Weird, I know. But it happens every time. I’m used to it. I just embrace it, let it happen, and it passes and I move on.

It also lead me to another one of my philosophies of writing, which I think makes the second one I’m going to bore you with, the first being my Theory of 10%.

This philosophy can best be summed up thusly: Aim to Fall Short.

I know it doesn’t seem very motivating; it will never be featured on a kitten poster in your office.

Here’s the thing. I will never be my artistic heroes. That’s okay. Because my heroes are bad-ass and legendary. Nobody is them but them. I’m sure most days they weren’t even them. I’ll take two examples from my list above: For Whom the Bell Tolls and “West Wing”.

I will never be Ernest Hemmingway. I will never be Aaron Sorkin.

But every word I ever write is and will be a futile attempt to be.

I believe that you should strive to be as good as your idols. Look at them (artistically) as what you want to be and go for it. You will fail. Oh, you will fail. I’m never going to write like Ernest Hemmingway. Do you know how I know that? HE’S FUCKING ERNEST HEMMINGWAY. It’s as simple as that.

But what I think is this: of course you will fall short of your heroes. And when you do fall short, when you’ve maximized your talent and done your best, that is where you find your voice. You will discover the parts of your work that are innately you, the things that come out no matter how hard you’re trying to be someone else. You’ll learn your strengths and weaknesses and how to capitalize on both.

Every sentence I write, I want it to be a good as my favorite passage in all of literature:

“The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for and I hate very much to leave it.”

Not one of them ever has been. Again, HE’S FUCKING ERNEST HEMMINGWAY.

But in that failure, in those cracks, I find myself.

This concept may not work for everyone, but it works for me.

Anyway. Aim to fall short. That’s a piece of writing advice you didn’t ask for and probably shouldn’t heed.

So, to wrap it up: Sorry I missed some posts, Book of Mormon kicks ass, and I’ll never be Ernest Hemmingway.

Book of Mormon

Over the next weeks I’ll be delivering my annual Best Films of the year list, as well as something on 21st Century Romance films (spurred by seeing Spike Jonez’s Her – talk about Genius Hangover), and maybe something about having fans or the closing of Blockbuster or what I made for dinner. I don’t know. Making this up as I go along.

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