Henry Huggins is a hard-working, well-mannered boy closing in on his
eleventh birthday. Although his life has become much more interesting
since his acquisition of Ribsy, a scrawny mutt who adopted him when
Henry was in third grade, more and more he feels as though something is
missing… but what? The what becomes clear when Scooter McCarthy, a gruff
seventh-grade friend of his, mentions that his district manager, Mr.
Capper, is looking for another boy to deliver papers. Yes, a paper route
would definitely be a worthwhile use of Henry’s time, with some nice
profits to go along with it. But getting the coveted position will not
be as easy as Henry thought…
Henry and the Paper Route
chronicles Henry’s escapades as he tries to convince the kindly but
dubious Mr. Capper that he is ready for the responsibility of being a
paper boy. Along the way, he finds himself in all sorts of situations
beyond his control. A valiant attempt to save four kittens from the
pound leads to a bad first impression, a day full of “No, thank you”s as
he tries to give them away, and an unanticipated affection between Mr.
Huggins and one of the kittens. A bit of clever advertising for a school
paper drive escalates into a week-long pick-up and bundling procedure
hilariously reminiscent of the mass-producing guppy episode in Henry Huggins. Henry has the best of intentions, but too often they seem to go awry.
It doesn’t help that his friend Beezus’ little sister Ramona is always
hanging around causing trouble. This book takes place in roughly the
same time frame as Beezus and Ramona, and Ramona’s rampant
creativity and ferocious temper are just as evident from Henry’s point
of view as Beezus’. Henry must rely on his quick wit – and some help
from Beezus – to keep Ramona from ruining all his plans. But it isn’t
just Ramona who stands in his way. Scooter invites Henry to take over
some of his paper boy work, but a quarrel between them leaves Henry
deprived of his duties and despairing of ever having a route of his own.
Add into the mix a strange new glasses-wearing, robot-building
neighbor, and you never know what’s going to happen to Henry next!
This book comes toward the end of the Henry series; only Henry and the Clubhouse
remains to cap off the boy’s adventures. Of course, they aren’t really
over; he continues to make guest appearances in the later Ramona books.
But his starring role is nearly at an end. Maybe he is just a bit too
even-tempered to arouse the sort of enthusiasm Ramona enjoys.
Nonetheless, Henry and the Paper Route is written with as much of
Cleary’s distinctive style as her more celebrated books, and Henry is
immensely likable. If boys object to reading about a feisty girl named
Ramona, they might consider immersing themselves in the activities of an
ordinary boy named Henry.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Cleary's First Foray Into Novels as Brilliant as her Latest
Although Ramona Quimby is probably Beverly Cleary’s most well-known
character, she started out as a minor supporting character in the world
of Cleary’s first starring child, Henry Huggins. Henry’s adventures
stretched across nearly as many books as Ramona’s, and they all began
with Henry Huggins, the author’s very first novel, completed
after repeated requests by her young library visitors for stories about
kids like them. The book was written in 1950, so some of the situations
and language feel a bit dated, but the introduction to Henry and all the
other residents of Klickitat Street is engaging nonetheless.
When we first meet Henry, he is nearing the end of third grade and bemoaning the fact that nothing exciting ever happens to him. Suddenly, something does. An ordinary trip to the YMCA leads to a chance encounter with a scraggly mutt who latches himself onto Henry. Observing the dog’s slight frame, Henry assigns him the name Ribsy and manages to convince his mother to let him keep him. Now all he has to do is get him home on the bus…
Henry is a nice, sensible boy whose misadventures never stem from a lack of control, as is so often the case with Ramona. He speaks politely to adults, pays for Ribsy’s upkeep with his own money, devotes all his time to feeding his fish when a simple pair of guppies turns into a regular fish factory, readily accepts the challenge of catching 1400 night crawlers to pay for his friend’s lost football, and agrees to an impartial ownership contest when Ribsy’s former master resurfaces to claim his dog. Adults and friends sometimes treat him unfairly, but he seems to take almost everything in stride. He is very different from Ramona but perhaps not far removed from her older sister Beezus, which is not surprising since they are such good friends. Beezus shows up a few times here, most notably agreeing to adopt one of Henry’s guppies, while Ramona’s part is so scant as to scarcely merit mention.
Henry’s adventures throughout the book are entertaining and show Cleary’s understanding of how young children think, while the simple but artistic language contributes to the ease of reading no matter what age the reader is. She is just as adept at getting into a boy’s head as a girl’s. Even though Henry’s speech consists largely of such outdated words as “gee whiz,” “jeepers,” “golly,” and “gosh” and monetary amounts and certain items mentioned in the book clearly place the novel in the 50s, he comes across very realistically, and his exploits are still great fun to read about. Most of the book is a series of funny incidents over the course of a year or so, but the last chapter ends on a slightly somber, heartfelt note that leaves the door open and the reader ready for the many Klickitat chronicles to come.
When we first meet Henry, he is nearing the end of third grade and bemoaning the fact that nothing exciting ever happens to him. Suddenly, something does. An ordinary trip to the YMCA leads to a chance encounter with a scraggly mutt who latches himself onto Henry. Observing the dog’s slight frame, Henry assigns him the name Ribsy and manages to convince his mother to let him keep him. Now all he has to do is get him home on the bus…
Henry is a nice, sensible boy whose misadventures never stem from a lack of control, as is so often the case with Ramona. He speaks politely to adults, pays for Ribsy’s upkeep with his own money, devotes all his time to feeding his fish when a simple pair of guppies turns into a regular fish factory, readily accepts the challenge of catching 1400 night crawlers to pay for his friend’s lost football, and agrees to an impartial ownership contest when Ribsy’s former master resurfaces to claim his dog. Adults and friends sometimes treat him unfairly, but he seems to take almost everything in stride. He is very different from Ramona but perhaps not far removed from her older sister Beezus, which is not surprising since they are such good friends. Beezus shows up a few times here, most notably agreeing to adopt one of Henry’s guppies, while Ramona’s part is so scant as to scarcely merit mention.
Henry’s adventures throughout the book are entertaining and show Cleary’s understanding of how young children think, while the simple but artistic language contributes to the ease of reading no matter what age the reader is. She is just as adept at getting into a boy’s head as a girl’s. Even though Henry’s speech consists largely of such outdated words as “gee whiz,” “jeepers,” “golly,” and “gosh” and monetary amounts and certain items mentioned in the book clearly place the novel in the 50s, he comes across very realistically, and his exploits are still great fun to read about. Most of the book is a series of funny incidents over the course of a year or so, but the last chapter ends on a slightly somber, heartfelt note that leaves the door open and the reader ready for the many Klickitat chronicles to come.
Ramona Backslides But Emerges Wiser
After devoting a book to Ramona Quimby’s relationship with her father,
Beverly Cleary took the logical step and entitled the next volume Ramona and Her Mother.
Ramona is still in second grade, but circumstances have changed. The
book begins with a neighborhood party to celebrate Mr. Quimby’s
acquisition of a job as a checker at a local shopping mart. With Mrs.
Quimby still working full time, that means Ramona and her sister Beezus
must stay with Ramona’s friend Howie Kemp’s grandmother after school, a
situation neither of the girls is crazy about, especially when Howie’s
sister Willa Jean is old enough now to be annoying. Ramona observes the
sticky, crumby, destructive child with distaste and cringes when the
neighbors and even her own family compare Willa Jean to her. Surely she
never could have been that obnoxious!
Beezus lets it be known that she still finds Ramona obnoxious from time to time, and Ramona can’t help feeling cross with her older sister. Ramona tries to be good – sometimes goes out of her way – but no one seems to appreciate her efforts. While everyone comments on Beezus’ responsibility, calling her “her mother’s girl,” and Mrs. Quimby responds by saying she couldn’t get along without Beezus, her mother never announces in front of the neighbors what a good helper Ramona is. Even when Beezus’ new fashionable sensibilities cause her to quarrel with her mother, in the end the topic only brings them closer together, and Ramona feels more left out than ever.
While the seriousness of the situation in Ramona and Her Father required Ramona to keep her impulsive tendencies in check, less tense circumstances in this book allow some of Ramona’s less admirable qualities to surface once more. She indulges in several tantrums and even allows herself to realize her lifelong fantasy of squeezing out an entire tube of toothpaste. Her unconventional creativity also leads to a messy incident with a bottle of bluing in Howie’s basement and an uncomfortably hot trip to school with her pajamas under her clothes.
While Ramona observes Mrs. Quimby’s reactions to Beezus’ changing demeanor, she also bears witness to a very startling event: a full-blown fight between her mother and father. Although they later assure the girls that even though grown-ups get upset and quarrel sometimes, it doesn’t mean they don’t love one another, Ramona disapproves of their behavior, recalling her friend Davy whose parents got a divorce. The long, tense conversations her parents have after Ramona is in bed only make her more nervous, especially since they are too quiet for her to make out the words. What words she does understand have to do with school, leading her to believe they must be arguing about her, which makes matters even worse.
Cleary’s exploration into Ramona’s psyche continues with this book, and readers observe as the seven-year-old struggles to find her place in a world where she always seems too young to be responsible and too old to be cute. Cleary has a gift for using language simple enough for young children to comprehend but vibrant enough to keep them, and even their parents, enthralled. Her acute understanding of how young children think keeps Ramona and Her Mother, like the other Ramona books, by turns funny and moving, but always truthful.
Beezus lets it be known that she still finds Ramona obnoxious from time to time, and Ramona can’t help feeling cross with her older sister. Ramona tries to be good – sometimes goes out of her way – but no one seems to appreciate her efforts. While everyone comments on Beezus’ responsibility, calling her “her mother’s girl,” and Mrs. Quimby responds by saying she couldn’t get along without Beezus, her mother never announces in front of the neighbors what a good helper Ramona is. Even when Beezus’ new fashionable sensibilities cause her to quarrel with her mother, in the end the topic only brings them closer together, and Ramona feels more left out than ever.
While the seriousness of the situation in Ramona and Her Father required Ramona to keep her impulsive tendencies in check, less tense circumstances in this book allow some of Ramona’s less admirable qualities to surface once more. She indulges in several tantrums and even allows herself to realize her lifelong fantasy of squeezing out an entire tube of toothpaste. Her unconventional creativity also leads to a messy incident with a bottle of bluing in Howie’s basement and an uncomfortably hot trip to school with her pajamas under her clothes.
While Ramona observes Mrs. Quimby’s reactions to Beezus’ changing demeanor, she also bears witness to a very startling event: a full-blown fight between her mother and father. Although they later assure the girls that even though grown-ups get upset and quarrel sometimes, it doesn’t mean they don’t love one another, Ramona disapproves of their behavior, recalling her friend Davy whose parents got a divorce. The long, tense conversations her parents have after Ramona is in bed only make her more nervous, especially since they are too quiet for her to make out the words. What words she does understand have to do with school, leading her to believe they must be arguing about her, which makes matters even worse.
Cleary’s exploration into Ramona’s psyche continues with this book, and readers observe as the seven-year-old struggles to find her place in a world where she always seems too young to be responsible and too old to be cute. Cleary has a gift for using language simple enough for young children to comprehend but vibrant enough to keep them, and even their parents, enthralled. Her acute understanding of how young children think keeps Ramona and Her Mother, like the other Ramona books, by turns funny and moving, but always truthful.
Ramona Returns, Vibrant as Ever
Ever since the age of seven or so, I have been a big fan of Beverly
Cleary’s books, particularly those involving Ramona Quimby, a girl I
always found to be not so different from myself. For many years, my
collection of Ramona books was complete, ending with the eventful Ramona Forever,
which culminated in the marriage of Ramona’s Aunt Beatrice and the
birth of her sister Roberta. I thought her saga had ended, but in 1999,
fifteen years after Ramona Forever, Cleary added another volume.
Ramona’s World finds Ramona in the exciting new position of big sister. She is fascinated by her sister’s tiny but perfect body and her steady growth and can’t wait to start the fourth grade so she can tell her class all about Roberta. At the same time, she misses being the baby of the family and resents always being shushed so Roberta can sleep. Meanwhile, she still has to deal with being a little sister. Beezus is now in ninth grade and beginning to tire of the sensible persona she’s always held. As her days become consumed with excited telephone conversations and fashionable clothes and accessories – including a pair of earrings acquired without her parents’ permission with money earned from babysitting – Ramona begins to miss the old Beezus.
She feels very grown-up now that she is in the fourth grade, and school would be quite pleasant for her if it weren’t for the fact that her new teacher, Mrs. Meacham, is very concerned with spelling, a subject that bores Ramona. Not only does her teacher insist she take the time to spell words more carefully, her mother complains that Ramona uses the word “stuff” too much and wants her to find more interesting alternatives. Mrs. Quimby also wants her daughter to spend more time with Susan, the prissy, curly-haired girl who Ramona perceives as her classroom nemesis.
But Ramona doesn’t have much time to worry about Susan because she has befriended the new girl in her class, a girl with long blond hair named Daisy Kidd. Ramona has never had a girl best friend before; the chief friendship of her life up to this point has been with the bland Howie Kemp, whose obsession with building things begins to bore her. Now she has a friend with whom she can play dress up, watch the soap opera Big Hospital, and do other girly things. She loves going over to Daisy’s house with the cat who likes to be vacuumed, the dog who watches television, the big brother who calls Daisy names, and the mother who treats Ramona like a big girl.
The only subject on which she and Daisy disagree is Danny, the rowdy boy at school who Ramona calls “Yard Ape.” He’s the sort of boy who likes to tease and always comes close to causing trouble without actually angering the teacher. In fact, he’s a very good student, and his antics are more amusing than obnoxious. Still, his rambunctious behavior on the playground earns him the label “awful” from Daisy, a claim Ramona refuses to dispute because she does not want anyone to know she has a crush on him.
Cleary was 83 years old when this book was published, but her insight into a child’s psyche and skill at conveying pivotal situations in colorful but age-appropriate language had not diminished. The transition from Ramona Forever to Ramona’s World is perfectly natural, and children just being introduced to Ramona now would never guess at the span of years between volumes. For longtime fans like myself, meanwhile, this book is an unexpected treat, a venture back into the world of a most beloved childhood character whose adventures we’d thought were over. And as soon as we’ve read the first page, it’s as though we never left.
Ramona’s World finds Ramona in the exciting new position of big sister. She is fascinated by her sister’s tiny but perfect body and her steady growth and can’t wait to start the fourth grade so she can tell her class all about Roberta. At the same time, she misses being the baby of the family and resents always being shushed so Roberta can sleep. Meanwhile, she still has to deal with being a little sister. Beezus is now in ninth grade and beginning to tire of the sensible persona she’s always held. As her days become consumed with excited telephone conversations and fashionable clothes and accessories – including a pair of earrings acquired without her parents’ permission with money earned from babysitting – Ramona begins to miss the old Beezus.
She feels very grown-up now that she is in the fourth grade, and school would be quite pleasant for her if it weren’t for the fact that her new teacher, Mrs. Meacham, is very concerned with spelling, a subject that bores Ramona. Not only does her teacher insist she take the time to spell words more carefully, her mother complains that Ramona uses the word “stuff” too much and wants her to find more interesting alternatives. Mrs. Quimby also wants her daughter to spend more time with Susan, the prissy, curly-haired girl who Ramona perceives as her classroom nemesis.
But Ramona doesn’t have much time to worry about Susan because she has befriended the new girl in her class, a girl with long blond hair named Daisy Kidd. Ramona has never had a girl best friend before; the chief friendship of her life up to this point has been with the bland Howie Kemp, whose obsession with building things begins to bore her. Now she has a friend with whom she can play dress up, watch the soap opera Big Hospital, and do other girly things. She loves going over to Daisy’s house with the cat who likes to be vacuumed, the dog who watches television, the big brother who calls Daisy names, and the mother who treats Ramona like a big girl.
The only subject on which she and Daisy disagree is Danny, the rowdy boy at school who Ramona calls “Yard Ape.” He’s the sort of boy who likes to tease and always comes close to causing trouble without actually angering the teacher. In fact, he’s a very good student, and his antics are more amusing than obnoxious. Still, his rambunctious behavior on the playground earns him the label “awful” from Daisy, a claim Ramona refuses to dispute because she does not want anyone to know she has a crush on him.
Cleary was 83 years old when this book was published, but her insight into a child’s psyche and skill at conveying pivotal situations in colorful but age-appropriate language had not diminished. The transition from Ramona Forever to Ramona’s World is perfectly natural, and children just being introduced to Ramona now would never guess at the span of years between volumes. For longtime fans like myself, meanwhile, this book is an unexpected treat, a venture back into the world of a most beloved childhood character whose adventures we’d thought were over. And as soon as we’ve read the first page, it’s as though we never left.
Thirteen a Thoroughly Unlikable Movie
Last year, I heard a lot about the movie Thirteen, mostly having
to do with the fact that its co-author was as young as the main
character. Intrigued by the idea of a movie written by one so young and
experiencing my usual combo package of inspiration and jealousy when
faced with a prodigy, I added it to the list of movies I wanted to see,
but many films higher up on the list didn’t make the cut so Thirteen
would have to wait for a day when I could rent it. That day came a
couple months ago, when I spent the evening with two friends who were
equally intrigued by the screenwriting credits. When the movie ended, we
were all glad we’d waited for the video.
The writer in question is Nikki Reed, who takes a lead role in the film as Evie, a popular, worldly girl with whom the main character, Tracy (Evan Rachel Wood), becomes obsessed towards the beginning of the film. Tracy starts out as a nice, sweet 13-year-old girl who loves her mother, Melanie (Holly Hunter), dotes on the younger children in her neighborhood, and plays innocently with her longtime friends. But this year, it seems, is destined to be different. When members of a snotty clique make a derogatory comment about her socks, Tracy snaps. Suddenly all she cares about is being popular, and that means getting in with Evie. After a grand dissing by Evie and her friends, Tracy manages to win her way into their crowd by stealing an elderly woman’s wallet. Before long, Evie has dumped the rest of her friends, and so has Tracy. The two become a gruesome twosome, with Evie’s charm landing her a semi-permanent spot in Tracy’s home.
Throughout the course of the movie, the sweet little girl that was Tracy vanishes. She snaps at her mother constantly and without good cause even as Evie warms up to Melanie. Under Evie’s sinister tutelage, Tracy spends the bulk of the film in a whirlwind of substance abuse, self-mutilation, theft, and lewd activity, and her dialogue is heavily peppered with profanity. Both girls have troubled homes, but the film shows Melanie making a genuine effort to do what is best for her family in spite of her own struggles with drugs and alcohol and a boyfriend, Brady (Jeremy Sisto), with similar problems. She is easily the most sympathetic character in the film. I spent much of the film angry with Tracy for her abrupt and uncalled for change in behavior, and it was evident from the beginning that Evie spelled trouble. Although it seems we are not supposed to like Brady, I thought Tracy’s vilification of him did not match the character the film presented. Most of the time he seemed like a perfectly decent guy whose problems did not make him any worse than any other character in the movie.
I found the whole film dark, depressing, and hard to follow. The cinematographic style was jarring; it looked as though the movie had been shot on a home video camera by someone who did not know how to operate the camera properly. I found the 180-degree change in Tracy’s character unbelievable and the activities she engaged in with Evie abhorrent. I guess I’ve lived a sheltered life, but I can’t imagine seventh-graders living this way. High schoolers, perhaps, but not kids just starting junior high. The acting seemed solid enough, but I found the film so thoroughly unlikable that I couldn’t appreciate it, even in the scenes between Melanie and Tracy that I was supposed to find so moving. I guess this is a film that would probably best be appreciated by teenagers – too R-rated for younger children and too disturbing for adults who already feel like kids today are on the wrong track. But I certainly couldn’t have related to this movie when I was thirteen, and I hope the number of thirteen-year-olds who can is not nearly as large as Reed would have us think.
The writer in question is Nikki Reed, who takes a lead role in the film as Evie, a popular, worldly girl with whom the main character, Tracy (Evan Rachel Wood), becomes obsessed towards the beginning of the film. Tracy starts out as a nice, sweet 13-year-old girl who loves her mother, Melanie (Holly Hunter), dotes on the younger children in her neighborhood, and plays innocently with her longtime friends. But this year, it seems, is destined to be different. When members of a snotty clique make a derogatory comment about her socks, Tracy snaps. Suddenly all she cares about is being popular, and that means getting in with Evie. After a grand dissing by Evie and her friends, Tracy manages to win her way into their crowd by stealing an elderly woman’s wallet. Before long, Evie has dumped the rest of her friends, and so has Tracy. The two become a gruesome twosome, with Evie’s charm landing her a semi-permanent spot in Tracy’s home.
Throughout the course of the movie, the sweet little girl that was Tracy vanishes. She snaps at her mother constantly and without good cause even as Evie warms up to Melanie. Under Evie’s sinister tutelage, Tracy spends the bulk of the film in a whirlwind of substance abuse, self-mutilation, theft, and lewd activity, and her dialogue is heavily peppered with profanity. Both girls have troubled homes, but the film shows Melanie making a genuine effort to do what is best for her family in spite of her own struggles with drugs and alcohol and a boyfriend, Brady (Jeremy Sisto), with similar problems. She is easily the most sympathetic character in the film. I spent much of the film angry with Tracy for her abrupt and uncalled for change in behavior, and it was evident from the beginning that Evie spelled trouble. Although it seems we are not supposed to like Brady, I thought Tracy’s vilification of him did not match the character the film presented. Most of the time he seemed like a perfectly decent guy whose problems did not make him any worse than any other character in the movie.
I found the whole film dark, depressing, and hard to follow. The cinematographic style was jarring; it looked as though the movie had been shot on a home video camera by someone who did not know how to operate the camera properly. I found the 180-degree change in Tracy’s character unbelievable and the activities she engaged in with Evie abhorrent. I guess I’ve lived a sheltered life, but I can’t imagine seventh-graders living this way. High schoolers, perhaps, but not kids just starting junior high. The acting seemed solid enough, but I found the film so thoroughly unlikable that I couldn’t appreciate it, even in the scenes between Melanie and Tracy that I was supposed to find so moving. I guess this is a film that would probably best be appreciated by teenagers – too R-rated for younger children and too disturbing for adults who already feel like kids today are on the wrong track. But I certainly couldn’t have related to this movie when I was thirteen, and I hope the number of thirteen-year-olds who can is not nearly as large as Reed would have us think.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
"It's Simon and Garfunkel! You Can't Just Turn Them Off!"
Last year, my dad and brother had the opportunity to spend an evening in
Buffalo watching Beatlemania!, a tribute to the Beatles, which is my
brother’s favorite musical group. Mom and I had acquired the tickets by
chance when the two of us went to see Art Garfunkel in February; a local
radio station had a booth set up, and I gave the wheel a lucky spin and
walked away with the tickets. We only thought it fair to make
Beatlemania! a boys’ night out to balance our February concert, but
while Dad and Nathan were grooving to I Wanna Hold Your Hand and Let it Be,
Mom and I decided to veg out for the evening with a couple of chick
flicks. We debated a bit but wound up with two, one of which was Maid in Manhattan.
Mom was especially interested in seeing it. I doubted I would strongly
dislike it, but I didn’t expect it to thrill me too much either. While
exceedingly high expectations sometimes lead me to think badly of an
otherwise good movie, one that delivers more than I expected usually
ranks high with me. I suspected from the movie’s opening moments that
this would be such a film.
The film opens with shots of New York City set, I noted with excitement, to the tune of Paul Simon’s Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard, a lively Latin-flavored tune that also showed up in The Royal Tenenbaums. It captures the energy of the city well and also gives a nod to the ethnicity of the protagonist. I was just tickled to hear the song and thrilled with the opening dialogue between the titular maid, Marisa Ventura (Jennifer Lopez), and her son Ty (Tyler Posey), which reveals that the boy is a big Simon and Garfunkel fan. Now that, I thought, is one cool kid!
Ty is eccentric and precocious, driving much of the action in the film, including his mother’s first encounter with Chris Marshall (Ralph Fiennes), a senatorial candidate staying at the hotel where Marisa works. Chris is a very pleasant fellow, annoyed by all the special treatment his staff wants him to receive and refreshed by Marisa and her gregarious son. The only trouble is that when he meets her, she is wearing the luxurious outfit of a wealthy guest, a dangerous dress-up game initiated by her trouble-making fellow maid Stephanie (Marissa Matrone). They hit it off, but Chris doesn’t know Marisa’s a maid instead of a socialite and she doesn’t want him to find out. The whole story plays out much like Ever After, with the class boundaries, deception, confrontation, and eventual inevitable reconciliation. Not overly creative, I suppose, but I’m the sort of gal who can tolerate multiple incarnations of basic plotlines. I think Maid in Manhattan does very well for what it is.
Marisa is both timid and ambitious, an hard-working woman who wants to do her job well and rise to a higher position in society but makes a big mistake along the way. Lopez handles the character well, while Fiennes’ slightly aloof approach makes Chris come across as shy and kindly. I also found Posey very enjoyable in his role as the clever, match-making Ty, and supporting roles by Stanley Tucci, as Chris’ cynical campaign manager, and Bob Hoskins, the honorable head butler who sympathizes with Marisa, enhance the film considerably.
I must attribute some of my enjoyment of the movie to the unexpected presence of Simon and Garfunkel. After that promising beginning, I kept alert for any future references and was rewarded with Eva Cassidy’s exquisite rendition of Kathy’s Song toward the end of the film. The movie was not as much of a comedy as I had anticipated, but that didn’t bother me; too much of the humor in most romantic comedies I’ve seen lately tends to be crude anyway. I just found it a nice, feel-good movie with a happy ending and a nifty soundtrack. And that was good enough for me.
The film opens with shots of New York City set, I noted with excitement, to the tune of Paul Simon’s Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard, a lively Latin-flavored tune that also showed up in The Royal Tenenbaums. It captures the energy of the city well and also gives a nod to the ethnicity of the protagonist. I was just tickled to hear the song and thrilled with the opening dialogue between the titular maid, Marisa Ventura (Jennifer Lopez), and her son Ty (Tyler Posey), which reveals that the boy is a big Simon and Garfunkel fan. Now that, I thought, is one cool kid!
Ty is eccentric and precocious, driving much of the action in the film, including his mother’s first encounter with Chris Marshall (Ralph Fiennes), a senatorial candidate staying at the hotel where Marisa works. Chris is a very pleasant fellow, annoyed by all the special treatment his staff wants him to receive and refreshed by Marisa and her gregarious son. The only trouble is that when he meets her, she is wearing the luxurious outfit of a wealthy guest, a dangerous dress-up game initiated by her trouble-making fellow maid Stephanie (Marissa Matrone). They hit it off, but Chris doesn’t know Marisa’s a maid instead of a socialite and she doesn’t want him to find out. The whole story plays out much like Ever After, with the class boundaries, deception, confrontation, and eventual inevitable reconciliation. Not overly creative, I suppose, but I’m the sort of gal who can tolerate multiple incarnations of basic plotlines. I think Maid in Manhattan does very well for what it is.
Marisa is both timid and ambitious, an hard-working woman who wants to do her job well and rise to a higher position in society but makes a big mistake along the way. Lopez handles the character well, while Fiennes’ slightly aloof approach makes Chris come across as shy and kindly. I also found Posey very enjoyable in his role as the clever, match-making Ty, and supporting roles by Stanley Tucci, as Chris’ cynical campaign manager, and Bob Hoskins, the honorable head butler who sympathizes with Marisa, enhance the film considerably.
I must attribute some of my enjoyment of the movie to the unexpected presence of Simon and Garfunkel. After that promising beginning, I kept alert for any future references and was rewarded with Eva Cassidy’s exquisite rendition of Kathy’s Song toward the end of the film. The movie was not as much of a comedy as I had anticipated, but that didn’t bother me; too much of the humor in most romantic comedies I’ve seen lately tends to be crude anyway. I just found it a nice, feel-good movie with a happy ending and a nifty soundtrack. And that was good enough for me.
Nicholson's Film About a Hollow Man Full of Meaning
My friend and I recently attended a church service as the guests of a
couple in a small group Bible study we’d been attending. The study was
on Rick Warren’s The Purpose-Driven Life, and the church had
integrated the study into its services. The week we went, the topic was
evangelism, and the sermon concerned reaching out to others outside the
Christian community and sharing your faith with them. It concluded with
the final scene in About Schmidt, a film I had been wanting to
see but still hadn’t yet. Although the scene did not so much illustrate
the importance of evangelism, it did demonstrate how the human need for a
feeling of purpose is best fulfilled by an assurance that our lives
have made a difference to someone else, even if it is just one person. A
few days ago, my friend and I watched the movie together, and while
much of it was rather dreary and depressing, I ultimately found the film
very moving.
This is the movie that afforded us all those glamorous shots of Jack Nicholson looking like something the cat dragged in and promptly ran away from. He’s looking awfully rough here, and with good reason. Warren Schmidt (Nicholson) is a man doomed to the realization that he is 66 years old with nothing to show for it. He retires from a lifelong job at an insurance company, placated by the platitudes heaped on him by a longtime coworker and the young man replacing him. But when he accepts the upstart’s invitation to return to the office and give him a few pointers, he receives the royal brush-off and spies his life’s work sitting in boxes on the curb for the trash man to pick up. He’d looked forward to a cozy retirement with his wife, Helen, traveling around the country in their cushy mobile home, but now that he’s home with her all the time he finds all of her idiosyncrasies intolerable. When Helen (June Squibb) dies suddenly, his marital apathy leaves him with a load of guilt that is only eased when he discovers that years ago, she had an affair with the friend who so eloquently toasted him at the retirement banquet.
So begins a quest of self-discovery that will last throughout the course of the movie. Feeling betrayed, rejected and useless, Warren embarks on a road trip, revisiting the sites of his early life and hoping to rekindle some forgotten memories. But everywhere he goes, it seems life has gone on with no record of his existence. He feels utterly obsolete. Even his beloved daughter, Jeannie (Hope Davis), about to be wed to a waterbed salesman, Randall (Dermott Mulroney), of whom Warren disapproves, rejects him, and Warren must sit idly by and watch as his daughter marries into an oddball family and out of her father’s life.
Everything in the film points to the emptiness that consumes Warren. The sparse score adds to film’s overall mood of uneasy quietude. Warren himself is largely silent. He appears to be passive-aggressive, always careful not to ruffle any feathers but inwardly seething about the unfairness of his life. This isn’t to say that he is a wholly admirable character. He is very self-centered and used to being taken care of. He doesn’t have the nasty streak displayed by many of Nicholson’s characters, but he also lacks Nicholson’s abundant charm. He’s a hollow man who only truly opens up and allows himself his full range of emotions in his letters to Ndugu, a young African boy he decides to sponsor. Along with 22 dollars a week, he sends the child poignant reflections and virulent rants that the audience hears in voiceover while observing Warren’s activities.
Nicholson is fantastic as the disenfranchised Warren, a decent everyman who feels his life is devoid of meaning. He truly carries the film. Although it is clear Warren despises Randall, I thought Mulroney made the character very likable. A bit of a do-nothing, perhaps, but a very nice guy who loves Warren’s daughter and is always pleasant to Warren in spite of the latter’s thinly veiled hostility. Davis, meanwhile, seemed to go out of her way to make Jeannie unlikable, perhaps to emphasize Warren’s shaky grasp of reality. His sweet little girl is gone, never to return as far as we can tell. Also worth note is Kathy Bates as Roberta, Randall’s libidinous mother, whose much-ballyhooed hot tub encounter with Warren is brief but uncomfortably hilarious. Howard Hesseman, meanwhile, provides humor as Randall’s easy-going, speech-making father, Larry.
But perhaps the real star of the movie is the one who never appears at all, the unseen foil to Warren’s tortured soul. Somewhere on the other side of the world is a little boy named Ndugu who can’t read but understands that Warren Schmidt cares enough to send him money and write him letters. Warren lives a privileged life that is full of disappointments; Ndugu is an orphan who resides in a state of poverty but feels rich because his life has been touched by this hollow man. About Schmidt is a sad movie about a broken man, but perhaps this one-sided correspondence is just enough to help Warren’s emptiness heal.
This is the movie that afforded us all those glamorous shots of Jack Nicholson looking like something the cat dragged in and promptly ran away from. He’s looking awfully rough here, and with good reason. Warren Schmidt (Nicholson) is a man doomed to the realization that he is 66 years old with nothing to show for it. He retires from a lifelong job at an insurance company, placated by the platitudes heaped on him by a longtime coworker and the young man replacing him. But when he accepts the upstart’s invitation to return to the office and give him a few pointers, he receives the royal brush-off and spies his life’s work sitting in boxes on the curb for the trash man to pick up. He’d looked forward to a cozy retirement with his wife, Helen, traveling around the country in their cushy mobile home, but now that he’s home with her all the time he finds all of her idiosyncrasies intolerable. When Helen (June Squibb) dies suddenly, his marital apathy leaves him with a load of guilt that is only eased when he discovers that years ago, she had an affair with the friend who so eloquently toasted him at the retirement banquet.
So begins a quest of self-discovery that will last throughout the course of the movie. Feeling betrayed, rejected and useless, Warren embarks on a road trip, revisiting the sites of his early life and hoping to rekindle some forgotten memories. But everywhere he goes, it seems life has gone on with no record of his existence. He feels utterly obsolete. Even his beloved daughter, Jeannie (Hope Davis), about to be wed to a waterbed salesman, Randall (Dermott Mulroney), of whom Warren disapproves, rejects him, and Warren must sit idly by and watch as his daughter marries into an oddball family and out of her father’s life.
Everything in the film points to the emptiness that consumes Warren. The sparse score adds to film’s overall mood of uneasy quietude. Warren himself is largely silent. He appears to be passive-aggressive, always careful not to ruffle any feathers but inwardly seething about the unfairness of his life. This isn’t to say that he is a wholly admirable character. He is very self-centered and used to being taken care of. He doesn’t have the nasty streak displayed by many of Nicholson’s characters, but he also lacks Nicholson’s abundant charm. He’s a hollow man who only truly opens up and allows himself his full range of emotions in his letters to Ndugu, a young African boy he decides to sponsor. Along with 22 dollars a week, he sends the child poignant reflections and virulent rants that the audience hears in voiceover while observing Warren’s activities.
Nicholson is fantastic as the disenfranchised Warren, a decent everyman who feels his life is devoid of meaning. He truly carries the film. Although it is clear Warren despises Randall, I thought Mulroney made the character very likable. A bit of a do-nothing, perhaps, but a very nice guy who loves Warren’s daughter and is always pleasant to Warren in spite of the latter’s thinly veiled hostility. Davis, meanwhile, seemed to go out of her way to make Jeannie unlikable, perhaps to emphasize Warren’s shaky grasp of reality. His sweet little girl is gone, never to return as far as we can tell. Also worth note is Kathy Bates as Roberta, Randall’s libidinous mother, whose much-ballyhooed hot tub encounter with Warren is brief but uncomfortably hilarious. Howard Hesseman, meanwhile, provides humor as Randall’s easy-going, speech-making father, Larry.
But perhaps the real star of the movie is the one who never appears at all, the unseen foil to Warren’s tortured soul. Somewhere on the other side of the world is a little boy named Ndugu who can’t read but understands that Warren Schmidt cares enough to send him money and write him letters. Warren lives a privileged life that is full of disappointments; Ndugu is an orphan who resides in a state of poverty but feels rich because his life has been touched by this hollow man. About Schmidt is a sad movie about a broken man, but perhaps this one-sided correspondence is just enough to help Warren’s emptiness heal.
Monday, April 26, 2004
Spunky Seven-Year-Old Saves Her Family (Or Tries To)
Ramona and Her Father finds Ramona Quimby in second grade, though
this volume barely makes mention of what is going on at school. The
focus here is on her family and on Ramona’s worries that she is the only
happy member left. The predominant source of stress in the household is
the fact that her father lost his job. Now he spends every day at home,
growing more and more irritable as he waits in vain for a job offer.
Her mother is nearly as ornery, since she works longs hours every day at
a doctor’s office. Her sister Beezus is entering into “that difficult
age” and beginning to display disagreeable behavior; Ramona is startled
to find Beezus getting into trouble as much as her. Adding to Beezus’
troubles is the fact that she must take Creative Writing, a subject she
has always hated because she feels it requires more imagination than she
has. Not even Picky-picky, the family cat, is happy, since the loss of
Mr. Quimby’s job meant major budgetary cutbacks, including switching to
the cheapest brand of cat food.
Little of Ramona’s famously awful behavior remains in this book, though her creativity and determination get her into trouble a few times. All she wants is to make her family, and most especially her once-so-jovial father, happy again. Early in the book, she decides she can save her family by landing herself in a television commercial and earning a million dollars, but after the practice crown she makes out of briars becomes entangled in her hair, taking hours to remove, she gives up on the bread-winning idea, uplifted by her father's assurance that he would never trade her for a million dollars. That is only the start of the troubles she faces in this book, however.
Her central battle in this book is a prolonged campaign, aided and initiated by Beezus, to convince Mr. Quimby to give up smoking. Since losing his job, he smokes more than ever, and the girls are increasingly concerned about his health. Mr. Quimby does not respond well to the barrage of anti-smoking signs and messages that begin popping up throughout the house, and Ramona begins to question the nobility of her efforts and wonder whether they will cause her father to stop loving her. Ramona has always been a "Daddy's girl," and the book allows for some wonderfully tender moments that affirm the fact that while outside pressures may make Mr. Quimby unusually cross, he will never abandon his love for his second daughter.
In the midst of these family troubles, Cleary focuses on the holidays of Halloween and Christmas, each of which comes complete with its own combination of cheer and calamity. Ramona matures considerably, often substituting self-centeredness with empathy for her family members. For the first time, she begins to understand some of the problems that come with growing up and must come to accept that no family is perfect and sometimes even grown-ups encounter situations that are difficult to handle. Like Cleary's other books, this is written in simple language that makes it accessible to children the age of the protagonist, but the style is engaging enough to entrap even adults. Its nearly 200 pages, broken up into seven chapters, are easily manageable for a child and can be read by an adult in two or three hours. A Newbery Honor book, Ramona and her Father is a fine addition to the series and one of the best of the Ramona books.
Little of Ramona’s famously awful behavior remains in this book, though her creativity and determination get her into trouble a few times. All she wants is to make her family, and most especially her once-so-jovial father, happy again. Early in the book, she decides she can save her family by landing herself in a television commercial and earning a million dollars, but after the practice crown she makes out of briars becomes entangled in her hair, taking hours to remove, she gives up on the bread-winning idea, uplifted by her father's assurance that he would never trade her for a million dollars. That is only the start of the troubles she faces in this book, however.
Her central battle in this book is a prolonged campaign, aided and initiated by Beezus, to convince Mr. Quimby to give up smoking. Since losing his job, he smokes more than ever, and the girls are increasingly concerned about his health. Mr. Quimby does not respond well to the barrage of anti-smoking signs and messages that begin popping up throughout the house, and Ramona begins to question the nobility of her efforts and wonder whether they will cause her father to stop loving her. Ramona has always been a "Daddy's girl," and the book allows for some wonderfully tender moments that affirm the fact that while outside pressures may make Mr. Quimby unusually cross, he will never abandon his love for his second daughter.
In the midst of these family troubles, Cleary focuses on the holidays of Halloween and Christmas, each of which comes complete with its own combination of cheer and calamity. Ramona matures considerably, often substituting self-centeredness with empathy for her family members. For the first time, she begins to understand some of the problems that come with growing up and must come to accept that no family is perfect and sometimes even grown-ups encounter situations that are difficult to handle. Like Cleary's other books, this is written in simple language that makes it accessible to children the age of the protagonist, but the style is engaging enough to entrap even adults. Its nearly 200 pages, broken up into seven chapters, are easily manageable for a child and can be read by an adult in two or three hours. A Newbery Honor book, Ramona and her Father is a fine addition to the series and one of the best of the Ramona books.
Saturday, April 24, 2004
Ramona's Still a Pest, but at Least She's Trying
Irrepressible Ramona Quimby has been waiting her whole life to go to
school like all the other children on Klickitat Street, and in Ramona the Pest,
she finally gets that wish. She also goes from being the neighborhood
nuisance viewed by Henry Huggins and the pesky sister perceived by her
sister Beezus to being the grown-up little girl she sees herself as.
Beezus and Henry still find her annoying, but theirs are no longer the
prevailing perspectives. Instead, we see Ramona’s first days of
kindergarten through her eyes.
Although her class turns out to be not exactly what she’d expected, she still decides that she loves kindergarten. She loves being around other kids her own age, playing games outside, chasing adorable little Davy around the schoolyard before class begins, learning how to write her name, and singing the song every morning about the “dawnzer” which gives off “lee light.” But most of all, she loves her teacher, Miss Binney, who is young, pretty, and sweet, and most importantly understands where Ramona is coming from.
This landmark year is full of triumphs for Ramona. She is grown-up enough to walk to school without adult supervision. She discovers that her last name begins with a fascinating letter and designs her own special version of the letter Q, complete with kittycat ears and whiskers to match the tail. Thanks to the innovation of Howie, her trike transforms from a vehicle too babyish to be suitable for a big kindergartener to a real two-wheeler, albeit a very wobbly and off-balance one.
Kindergarten is not free of frustrations, though. She must walk to school every day with her best friend Howie Kemp, whose demeanor is frightfully dull in comparison to her state of constant excitement. He always seems bored, which aggravates Ramona immensely. But Howie is nothing compared to Susan, a bossy girl in her class whose hair is filled with luxurious blonde curls. Every time she sees Susan, she longs to pull one of those nice, thick curls down and watch it spring up with a satisfying boing! Susan’s infuriating behavior only makes her urge stronger.
Cleary’s descriptions of Ramona’s exploits are hilarious. Though Ramona longs for the perks the older children in the neighborhood enjoy, she is unprepared to accept responsibility all of the time. She can’t be quiet and sensible like Beezus, and her stubbornness gets her into all sorts of trouble, from hiding between two garbage cans to avoid going to kindergarten with a substitute teacher to being temporarily expelled from the class after failing to resist her desire to yoink Susan’s curls. Much of the pest perceived by the long-suffering Beezus is present, but the readers begin to see that, aside from a few times when an irrational temper tantrum just feels so right, Ramona really does want to be good. A great read for anyone who can identify with the delicacy of balancing responsibility and spunk.
Although her class turns out to be not exactly what she’d expected, she still decides that she loves kindergarten. She loves being around other kids her own age, playing games outside, chasing adorable little Davy around the schoolyard before class begins, learning how to write her name, and singing the song every morning about the “dawnzer” which gives off “lee light.” But most of all, she loves her teacher, Miss Binney, who is young, pretty, and sweet, and most importantly understands where Ramona is coming from.
This landmark year is full of triumphs for Ramona. She is grown-up enough to walk to school without adult supervision. She discovers that her last name begins with a fascinating letter and designs her own special version of the letter Q, complete with kittycat ears and whiskers to match the tail. Thanks to the innovation of Howie, her trike transforms from a vehicle too babyish to be suitable for a big kindergartener to a real two-wheeler, albeit a very wobbly and off-balance one.
Kindergarten is not free of frustrations, though. She must walk to school every day with her best friend Howie Kemp, whose demeanor is frightfully dull in comparison to her state of constant excitement. He always seems bored, which aggravates Ramona immensely. But Howie is nothing compared to Susan, a bossy girl in her class whose hair is filled with luxurious blonde curls. Every time she sees Susan, she longs to pull one of those nice, thick curls down and watch it spring up with a satisfying boing! Susan’s infuriating behavior only makes her urge stronger.
Cleary’s descriptions of Ramona’s exploits are hilarious. Though Ramona longs for the perks the older children in the neighborhood enjoy, she is unprepared to accept responsibility all of the time. She can’t be quiet and sensible like Beezus, and her stubbornness gets her into all sorts of trouble, from hiding between two garbage cans to avoid going to kindergarten with a substitute teacher to being temporarily expelled from the class after failing to resist her desire to yoink Susan’s curls. Much of the pest perceived by the long-suffering Beezus is present, but the readers begin to see that, aside from a few times when an irrational temper tantrum just feels so right, Ramona really does want to be good. A great read for anyone who can identify with the delicacy of balancing responsibility and spunk.
Ramona the Brat Gains Perspective
Ramona the Brave marks a new chapter in this energetic girl’s
life. Ramona Quimby has completed kindergarten and will soon enter the
first grade in the sturdy brick building with her sister Beezus, who,
after a traumatic name-calling incident with some boys in the park,
rejects her acquired nickname and reverts to her birth name, Beatrice.
Waiting is hard, since the summer is hot and boring with her friends
away at summer camps or visiting relatives and Beezus is often cross with
her. Her primary source of excitement is a game she and her best friend
Howie Kemp invented called Brick Factory whose object is to smash bricks
into powder with rocks. But Beatrice finds this noisy, messy activity
particularly maddening, so Ramona can only play it when Howie is
available. Both girls long for something interesting to break up the
monotony of their summer.
As summer draws to a close, that something comes in the form of an addition to the house, a new room so that Beatrice and Ramona can have their own space. By the time the first day of school finally arrives, Ramona has something exciting to talk about: a hole in the side of her house. But when her glorious show and tell story goes awry, she fears it may be an indication of things to come. When the new room she wanted so badly is completed, she realizes that she is not quite so brave as she had thought and misses her sister’s company in the lonely dark of the newly finished room.
Ramona was so looking forward to first grade, but now that she is here, she misses her carefree kindergarten lifestyle and always understanding teacher. Mrs. Griggs, the first grade teacher, is stricter, the work this year is harder, and her prissy classmate Susan continues to torment her. Worst of all, she copies Ramona’s paper bag owl and receives lavish praise from Mrs. Griggs. First grade is shaping up to be very unfair indeed.
The more unpleasant first grade becomes, the more Beatrice raves about the sixth grade and her wonderful teacher, Mr. Cardoza. More and more, Ramona wishes she could return to the classroom of her beloved Miss Binney. But unexpectedly, Beatrice understands Ramona’s first grade struggles and helps her to face school even when it brings disappointments.
Although Ramona is still free-spirited and still behaves badly at times, Ramona the Brave shows her beginning to understand how others view her. This strange new revelation encourages Ramona to think a bit more before she acts. In this book, author Beverly Cleary moves her further away from her persona as Ramona the brat and towards the creative but self-controlled individual she is bursting to become.
As summer draws to a close, that something comes in the form of an addition to the house, a new room so that Beatrice and Ramona can have their own space. By the time the first day of school finally arrives, Ramona has something exciting to talk about: a hole in the side of her house. But when her glorious show and tell story goes awry, she fears it may be an indication of things to come. When the new room she wanted so badly is completed, she realizes that she is not quite so brave as she had thought and misses her sister’s company in the lonely dark of the newly finished room.
Ramona was so looking forward to first grade, but now that she is here, she misses her carefree kindergarten lifestyle and always understanding teacher. Mrs. Griggs, the first grade teacher, is stricter, the work this year is harder, and her prissy classmate Susan continues to torment her. Worst of all, she copies Ramona’s paper bag owl and receives lavish praise from Mrs. Griggs. First grade is shaping up to be very unfair indeed.
The more unpleasant first grade becomes, the more Beatrice raves about the sixth grade and her wonderful teacher, Mr. Cardoza. More and more, Ramona wishes she could return to the classroom of her beloved Miss Binney. But unexpectedly, Beatrice understands Ramona’s first grade struggles and helps her to face school even when it brings disappointments.
Although Ramona is still free-spirited and still behaves badly at times, Ramona the Brave shows her beginning to understand how others view her. This strange new revelation encourages Ramona to think a bit more before she acts. In this book, author Beverly Cleary moves her further away from her persona as Ramona the brat and towards the creative but self-controlled individual she is bursting to become.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Little Sisters Can Be Just as Aggravating as Big Sisters
I was first introduced to the wonderful writing of Beverly Cleary via
the exploits of Ramona, her most popular character, as chronicled in the
five-book set I received containing Ramona the Pest, Ramona and her Mother, Ramona and her Father, Ramona Quimby, Age 8, and Ramona Forever.
These books offer a look at the world through Ramona’s perspective, and
I was used to thinking of Beezus as a frustrating older sister who
always has more privileges than Ramona and never seems to get into
trouble. But before Ramona took over the Klickitat Street line of books,
the Quimby household was seen through a different pair of eyes. In Beezus and Ramona,
it is Beezus’ thoughts to which we have ready access, and while the
characterizations are still about the same, the different viewpoint puts
the later books into a whole new light.
Beezus is a prim and proper 9-year-old girl, happy to help her mother and sit quietly reading a book or making potholders. The behavior of the rambunctious 4-year-old Ramona baffles and infuriates Beezus. The best word to describe Ramona, she decides, is “exasperating.” The same sorts of irritating traits Ramona loathes in her best friend Howie’s little sister, Willa Jean, during later books appear in Ramona herself here. If anything, the creativity and spunk which set Ramona apart make her capable of rising to greater heights of aggravation than Willa Jean could dream of.
Beezus and Ramona finds Beezus trying her best to be a responsible big sister, but Ramona tries her patience every step of the way. She gets into all sorts of trouble: marking up a library book with “her name,” a series of squiggles; eating one bite each out of half a bushel of apples; provoking Beezus’ friend Henry’s dog, Ribsy, into locking himself in their bathroom; inviting fifteen kids over for a party without alerting anyone; and ruining two birthday cakes in one day. Sometimes, Beezus finds herself jealous of her little sister. She envies her boundless creativity, as Beezus is much more practical and feels that her own imagination does not function properly. Even more maddening, it seems Ramona always gets what she wants if she just misbehaves long enough. She makes her read the same unladylike steamshovel book over and over, sabotages the checker games she and Howie play, and bursts into temper tantrums on a regular basis. If Ramona feels like she has it tough as the little sister, Beezus finds her role as big sister just as vexing. Sometimes, she doesn’t think she loves Ramona at all, and that awful realization is even more troubling than all of Ramona’s antics until her mother and aunt provide some perspective on the ups and downs of sisterhood.
This is not the first Cleary book to feature Beezus and Ramona, but it serves as a turning point at which the focus shifts from Henry Huggins to his neighbors, the Quimbys. Written in 1955, the book has a bit of a dated quality to it. Though Ramona runs around in overalls, Beezus and the other girls and women in the book wear dresses and skirts almost exclusively, a clothing choice absent in later book. There are references to a mouth harp, a phonograph-and-record shop, and a davenport – a term for a couch which I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone besides my maternal grandma use – and Beezus consistently uses the word “gay” to describe her carefree young Aunt Beatrice. While later books generally refer to the parents as Mr. Quimby and Mrs. Quimby, here they are simply called Mother and Father. “Father” is particularly jarring, as both girls always refer to him as “Daddy” in later books. He does not appear very much in this book, and when he does we don’t get a very strong sense of his constantly joking nature. Picky-picky the cat fares worst; he’s never mentioned at all.
Nonetheless, the book manages to fit in pretty well with the remainder of the Ramona books, though I would call it more of a prequel than an actual part of the collection. Since my Cleary indoctrination began with Ramona the Pest and led me to work backwards once I had finished Ramona Forever, I would probably recommend reading Beezus and Ramona after the books which feature Ramona’s perspective. Then again, you might want to start with Henry Huggins and read them in true chronological order. Wherever this book fits in on your reading timeline, Ramona’s ridiculous antics and Beezus’ perpetual exasperation combine to create a chronicle chock-full of comedic chaos.
Beezus is a prim and proper 9-year-old girl, happy to help her mother and sit quietly reading a book or making potholders. The behavior of the rambunctious 4-year-old Ramona baffles and infuriates Beezus. The best word to describe Ramona, she decides, is “exasperating.” The same sorts of irritating traits Ramona loathes in her best friend Howie’s little sister, Willa Jean, during later books appear in Ramona herself here. If anything, the creativity and spunk which set Ramona apart make her capable of rising to greater heights of aggravation than Willa Jean could dream of.
Beezus and Ramona finds Beezus trying her best to be a responsible big sister, but Ramona tries her patience every step of the way. She gets into all sorts of trouble: marking up a library book with “her name,” a series of squiggles; eating one bite each out of half a bushel of apples; provoking Beezus’ friend Henry’s dog, Ribsy, into locking himself in their bathroom; inviting fifteen kids over for a party without alerting anyone; and ruining two birthday cakes in one day. Sometimes, Beezus finds herself jealous of her little sister. She envies her boundless creativity, as Beezus is much more practical and feels that her own imagination does not function properly. Even more maddening, it seems Ramona always gets what she wants if she just misbehaves long enough. She makes her read the same unladylike steamshovel book over and over, sabotages the checker games she and Howie play, and bursts into temper tantrums on a regular basis. If Ramona feels like she has it tough as the little sister, Beezus finds her role as big sister just as vexing. Sometimes, she doesn’t think she loves Ramona at all, and that awful realization is even more troubling than all of Ramona’s antics until her mother and aunt provide some perspective on the ups and downs of sisterhood.
This is not the first Cleary book to feature Beezus and Ramona, but it serves as a turning point at which the focus shifts from Henry Huggins to his neighbors, the Quimbys. Written in 1955, the book has a bit of a dated quality to it. Though Ramona runs around in overalls, Beezus and the other girls and women in the book wear dresses and skirts almost exclusively, a clothing choice absent in later book. There are references to a mouth harp, a phonograph-and-record shop, and a davenport – a term for a couch which I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone besides my maternal grandma use – and Beezus consistently uses the word “gay” to describe her carefree young Aunt Beatrice. While later books generally refer to the parents as Mr. Quimby and Mrs. Quimby, here they are simply called Mother and Father. “Father” is particularly jarring, as both girls always refer to him as “Daddy” in later books. He does not appear very much in this book, and when he does we don’t get a very strong sense of his constantly joking nature. Picky-picky the cat fares worst; he’s never mentioned at all.
Nonetheless, the book manages to fit in pretty well with the remainder of the Ramona books, though I would call it more of a prequel than an actual part of the collection. Since my Cleary indoctrination began with Ramona the Pest and led me to work backwards once I had finished Ramona Forever, I would probably recommend reading Beezus and Ramona after the books which feature Ramona’s perspective. Then again, you might want to start with Henry Huggins and read them in true chronological order. Wherever this book fits in on your reading timeline, Ramona’s ridiculous antics and Beezus’ perpetual exasperation combine to create a chronicle chock-full of comedic chaos.
Ramona Remains a Favorite Forever
Ramona Forever, the last Ramona book until the recently published Ramona’s World, picks up where Ramona Quimby, Age 8
left off. Spunky Ramona is still in third grade, but we almost forget
she’s attending school because her academic activities are not mentioned
at all. The focus here is entirely on her home life, with a bit of her
best friend Howie Kemp and his family thrown in. Her older sister Beezus
continues to be a perfectionist, but she shows more empathy for Ramona
than she has in the past and allows herself some not-so-grown-up
moments. Beezus also spends part of the book preoccupied with her
complexion, as acne is beginning to set in and she is not one bit happy
about it. The girls notice that their mother has been acting strangely
and seems to be expanding, and Beezus tells Ramona that a third sibling
may be on the way. Meanwhile, their father hopes for a teaching offer as
he finishes his degree.
Big changes are in store for Ramona in this book. They begin when an encounter with Howie’s rich, teasing uncle leaves her with the revelation that Howie’s grandmother dislikes her. She has never liked going to Howie’s house after school, but now the thought seems unbearable. Beezus confesses that she, too, feels uncomfortable at the Kemps’ and offers to watch Ramona after school herself. Now both girls must prove they are grown-up enough to handle the responsibility. This resolve is tested when the sisters get into a big fight, but an unexpected tragedy brings them closer together than ever before and proves to their parents that they can handle themselves.
More than the last half of the book is centered around two key events: the marriage of Ramona’s Aunt Beatrice, Beezus’ namesake, and the birth of the newest Quimby. Mrs. Quimby becomes increasingly irritable, and the girls hope the baby will hold off until after the wedding. The wedding is yet another opportunity for Ramona to feel grown-up, and as the plans progress she grows to approve of the groom, despite her initial deep misgivings. When the time finally comes to call him “uncle,” she is happy to award him the title.
While Ramona Quimby, Age 8 dealt largely with various comical mishaps at home and at school, Ramona Forever has a slightly more serious tone. It features major life events that many children her age face; like Ramona, I had to deal with a wedding, a birth, and a family death all in one year, though for me it was second grade instead of third. Most of the kids reading the book probably have experienced at least one of the three or will soon, and can relate to the emotions that accompany such landmark occurrences. Readers can take heart because although her family is undergoing many significant changes, Ramona can deal with whatever comes her way.
Big changes are in store for Ramona in this book. They begin when an encounter with Howie’s rich, teasing uncle leaves her with the revelation that Howie’s grandmother dislikes her. She has never liked going to Howie’s house after school, but now the thought seems unbearable. Beezus confesses that she, too, feels uncomfortable at the Kemps’ and offers to watch Ramona after school herself. Now both girls must prove they are grown-up enough to handle the responsibility. This resolve is tested when the sisters get into a big fight, but an unexpected tragedy brings them closer together than ever before and proves to their parents that they can handle themselves.
More than the last half of the book is centered around two key events: the marriage of Ramona’s Aunt Beatrice, Beezus’ namesake, and the birth of the newest Quimby. Mrs. Quimby becomes increasingly irritable, and the girls hope the baby will hold off until after the wedding. The wedding is yet another opportunity for Ramona to feel grown-up, and as the plans progress she grows to approve of the groom, despite her initial deep misgivings. When the time finally comes to call him “uncle,” she is happy to award him the title.
While Ramona Quimby, Age 8 dealt largely with various comical mishaps at home and at school, Ramona Forever has a slightly more serious tone. It features major life events that many children her age face; like Ramona, I had to deal with a wedding, a birth, and a family death all in one year, though for me it was second grade instead of third. Most of the kids reading the book probably have experienced at least one of the three or will soon, and can relate to the emotions that accompany such landmark occurrences. Readers can take heart because although her family is undergoing many significant changes, Ramona can deal with whatever comes her way.
Serkis Shares Precious Secrets of Bringing Gollum to Life
Gollum has always been one of my favorite literary characters. When I read The Hobbit for the first time in first grade – having already been read the book several times by my dad – I struggled through Riddles in the Dark
for days; at this point, I still read everything aloud, and I was
determined to get Gollum’s voice right. I love the way he talks. The
only Tolkien character whose speech patterns can begin to compete is
Samwise Gamgee, whose rustic colloquialisms I adore. Trailing at a
distant third is the rumbling Treebeard. It was Gollum’s wheezing,
jarring means of expressing himself that most drew me to him, but beyond
the voice I found myself sympathizing with this lonesome, emaciated
creature who traded riddles with Bilbo and later became devoted to the
hated hobbit’s nephew Frodo.
I once proclaimed my fondness for Gollum during a viewing of Rankin and Bass’ animated version of The Hobbit, and my mom, apparently concerned by my lack of good character judgment, yelled at me, provoking me into one of my famous stomp-up-the-stairs-and-slam-the-door temper tantrums. But reading the books, you really do get the idea that Tolkien intended his audience to sympathize with Gollum. We see shreds of good in him and want as much as Frodo to believe that he can be redeemed. While Sam’s frustrating inability to see Gollum as anything but a monster leads to one of the book’s most heartbreaking scenes – sadly left out of Jackson’s films and replaced with two defining moments that leave the audience seething with anger and betrayal instead of crying out with the anguish of regret – the mercy, deserved or not, bestowed upon Gollum by Bilbo and Frodo allow the quest to succeed even when the Ringbearer cannot.
When The Two Towers hit theaters, Gollum’s complexity and uniqueness made him the most popular character in the film. Although he was a CGI creation, he was a fully realized character, a tortured soul who’d spent centuries encrusting himself in bitterness and was suddenly beginning to recall feelings of love and joy apart from the obsessive hold of the Ring. And while it took a team of artists to construct his frame and animate his movements, his humanity stemmed largely from the brilliant work of Andy Serkis. As with me, Serkis’ experience of Gollum began with a voice. Jackson called him in to read for Gollum’s voice and was so impressed by Serkis’ convulsive movements that he decided to incorporate them into the character. What started as little more than a voiceover for an animated character led to one of the most difficult acting jobs in the entire film. Serkis had to perform each scene multiple times, both with the other actors so they could react to his movements and on his own so he could be picked up by the motion-capture equipment that would translate his motions to the animated Gollum, all without the aid of any kind of costume beyond his skin-tight motion-capture suit. He also laid down vocal tracks for the film in a recording studio, which required an unconventional microphone setup due to his reliance on the hacking, hunched-over posture in creating his Gollum voice; the initial inspiration for how he would perform Gollum actually came after watching his cat cough up a hairball.
The process of creating this amazing character was so complicated and ground-breaking that Serkis felt compelled to write a book about it. Gollum: How We Made Movie Magic chronicles his character’s evolution as well as how his life and Gollum’s became entwined during the filming process. Its fifteen chapters, spread out over 120 pages, are filled with sketches, models, and photographs, as well as commentary by dozens of people involved in one way or another with Gollum’s creation, but the bulk of the book is Serkis’ own narration of the events in his own life since his involvement with Lord of the Rings and his explanation of the processes used to bring Gollum to life. We learn of the sense of isolation while he was in New Zealand that helped him identify with his character but also left him feeling depressed at times. We are introduced to his family: his partner Lorraine, whom he later married, and infant daughter Ruby, as well as his son Sonny, who came along after Serkis had begun filming. We discover the constant changes the character underwent and how Serkis’ personal revelations contributed to Gollum’s depth. And we absorb his frustration that although he did just as much acting as anyone else in the movie, journalists consistently thought of him as “just a voice.” In truth, Jackson had initially expected Serkis’ work to last about three weeks, but it ended up spanning more than three years.
Serkis’ narrative style is readily accessible, and he manages to convey a sense of the work involved in the technical aspects of constructing Gollum without alienating unscientific readers. The commentaries throughout the book go into more detail, and while I still don’t comprehend all that went into Gollum’s creation, I have a very real sense of the passion and dedication each crew member had for the project. While the stills from the films are very nice, the most interesting illustrations detail Gollum’s gradual transformation from bug-eyed alien to the Gollum that finally made it into the last two films. The process was so lengthy and ongoing that the first brief glimpse of Gollum in Fellowship of the Ring reveals a character that looks little like the star of The Two Towers, and while Gollum looks physically the same in Return of the King as The Two Towers, Serkis took a completely different psychological approach to the duality of Smeagol and Gollum in the third film.
I received this book as a Christmas gift from my brother, but with Gollum’s eyes peering out at me from the cover every time I went to work at Waldenbooks, I suspect I would have succumbed to the slippery fellow’s charm before too long if the book hadn’t been under the tree Christmas morning. At only ten dollars, it’s far less expensive than most of the movie tie-in books and just as engaging. Anyone who loves Gollum, or the films, or even film technology in general should find it a “precious” addition to their bookshelves.
I once proclaimed my fondness for Gollum during a viewing of Rankin and Bass’ animated version of The Hobbit, and my mom, apparently concerned by my lack of good character judgment, yelled at me, provoking me into one of my famous stomp-up-the-stairs-and-slam-the-door temper tantrums. But reading the books, you really do get the idea that Tolkien intended his audience to sympathize with Gollum. We see shreds of good in him and want as much as Frodo to believe that he can be redeemed. While Sam’s frustrating inability to see Gollum as anything but a monster leads to one of the book’s most heartbreaking scenes – sadly left out of Jackson’s films and replaced with two defining moments that leave the audience seething with anger and betrayal instead of crying out with the anguish of regret – the mercy, deserved or not, bestowed upon Gollum by Bilbo and Frodo allow the quest to succeed even when the Ringbearer cannot.
When The Two Towers hit theaters, Gollum’s complexity and uniqueness made him the most popular character in the film. Although he was a CGI creation, he was a fully realized character, a tortured soul who’d spent centuries encrusting himself in bitterness and was suddenly beginning to recall feelings of love and joy apart from the obsessive hold of the Ring. And while it took a team of artists to construct his frame and animate his movements, his humanity stemmed largely from the brilliant work of Andy Serkis. As with me, Serkis’ experience of Gollum began with a voice. Jackson called him in to read for Gollum’s voice and was so impressed by Serkis’ convulsive movements that he decided to incorporate them into the character. What started as little more than a voiceover for an animated character led to one of the most difficult acting jobs in the entire film. Serkis had to perform each scene multiple times, both with the other actors so they could react to his movements and on his own so he could be picked up by the motion-capture equipment that would translate his motions to the animated Gollum, all without the aid of any kind of costume beyond his skin-tight motion-capture suit. He also laid down vocal tracks for the film in a recording studio, which required an unconventional microphone setup due to his reliance on the hacking, hunched-over posture in creating his Gollum voice; the initial inspiration for how he would perform Gollum actually came after watching his cat cough up a hairball.
The process of creating this amazing character was so complicated and ground-breaking that Serkis felt compelled to write a book about it. Gollum: How We Made Movie Magic chronicles his character’s evolution as well as how his life and Gollum’s became entwined during the filming process. Its fifteen chapters, spread out over 120 pages, are filled with sketches, models, and photographs, as well as commentary by dozens of people involved in one way or another with Gollum’s creation, but the bulk of the book is Serkis’ own narration of the events in his own life since his involvement with Lord of the Rings and his explanation of the processes used to bring Gollum to life. We learn of the sense of isolation while he was in New Zealand that helped him identify with his character but also left him feeling depressed at times. We are introduced to his family: his partner Lorraine, whom he later married, and infant daughter Ruby, as well as his son Sonny, who came along after Serkis had begun filming. We discover the constant changes the character underwent and how Serkis’ personal revelations contributed to Gollum’s depth. And we absorb his frustration that although he did just as much acting as anyone else in the movie, journalists consistently thought of him as “just a voice.” In truth, Jackson had initially expected Serkis’ work to last about three weeks, but it ended up spanning more than three years.
Serkis’ narrative style is readily accessible, and he manages to convey a sense of the work involved in the technical aspects of constructing Gollum without alienating unscientific readers. The commentaries throughout the book go into more detail, and while I still don’t comprehend all that went into Gollum’s creation, I have a very real sense of the passion and dedication each crew member had for the project. While the stills from the films are very nice, the most interesting illustrations detail Gollum’s gradual transformation from bug-eyed alien to the Gollum that finally made it into the last two films. The process was so lengthy and ongoing that the first brief glimpse of Gollum in Fellowship of the Ring reveals a character that looks little like the star of The Two Towers, and while Gollum looks physically the same in Return of the King as The Two Towers, Serkis took a completely different psychological approach to the duality of Smeagol and Gollum in the third film.
I received this book as a Christmas gift from my brother, but with Gollum’s eyes peering out at me from the cover every time I went to work at Waldenbooks, I suspect I would have succumbed to the slippery fellow’s charm before too long if the book hadn’t been under the tree Christmas morning. At only ten dollars, it’s far less expensive than most of the movie tie-in books and just as engaging. Anyone who loves Gollum, or the films, or even film technology in general should find it a “precious” addition to their bookshelves.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
EW Provides More "Weeeee!!!" than "Ewwwww" - Especially When it's Free
A couple years ago, my family went to Media Play, and upon our checkout
the cashier presented us with the opportunity to receive eight free
issues of Entertainment Weekly. Though we weren’t familiar with
the magazine, we were happy to accept the offer, and soon we began
getting our copies in the mail. We were happy with the arrangement until
the eighth issue came and went without our noticing and suddenly we had
a big fat subscription bill in our mailbox. We managed to cancel the
subscription without having to pay any fees and swore we would not
accept any more free offers, but every time we went to Media Play we got
the offer and couldn’t resist those eight free issues. So now we just
have to pay better attention if we want to get the magazine without
paying for it.
Our latest “free subscription” ran out a few weeks ago, and though I went to Media Play last week, the cashier did not offer the deal and I didn’t ask. We’ve gone through several stretches without the magazine because, while we find it interesting and entertaining, we can’t reconcile the cost of the magazine every week with our attempts to be budget-conscious. However, a good friend of mine usually gets the magazine, and she often passes it along to me so I can catch up on what I’ve missed.
Entertainment Weekly isn’t a terribly substantial magazine. It isn’t uncommon for an issue to contain more than 100 pages, but many of those pages contain ads while others focus prominently on photographs and still others are filled mostly with short snippets about one thing or another. Generally I don’t mind the brief format employed throughout much of the magazine. When I pick up an EW, I’m usually just looking to skim through anyway, unless something particularly catches my eye. There are always a few in-depth articles to offset all the shorter items, and these are well done.
As an American Idol junkie, I particularly enjoyed EW last year with its frequent focus on the contestants and their prospects. Unfortunately I didn’t secure a copy of the clever Brady Bunch-style cover which featured several of the contestants and judges, but I did enjoy reading what the editors had to say about the second season’s crop, particularly Clay Aiken. I have come to the conclusion that the folks over at EW are a rather cynical bunch, and as a result I often disagree with their analyses of certain pop culture phenomena. I noticed that when it was on the air, they seemed to be particularly virulent in their disdain for Touched by an Angel. And I was dismayed that when Art Garfunkel released Everything Waits to be Noticed, the first album on which he took songwriting credits, EW failed to even mention it, even though it came out the month that their magazine featured an extensive list of new music releases.
Although my brother and I refer to EW as “ewwww,” we both find it informative and witty, even if we disagree with the opinion being presented. Some of my favorite aspects of the magazine are their periodic lists on everything from tear-jerking movies to powerful celebrities; their weekly guide to television with editorial comments on each show; their numerous features on American Idol and Lord of the Rings; their various media reviews, particularly for movies; the letters from the readers, who are often very passionate and aggravated with EW; and the once-every-three-weeks column by Steven King. The weekly Hotsheet, which highlights short items of interest from the previous week and adds a humorous comment, usually contains a selection or two that is very entertaining. My favorite, accompanied by a caricature of a grungy-looking Bob Dylan, was printed just after he performed at the Grammys in 2002: “The audience is wondering what song Bob Dylan is singing. And what other song his band is playing.”
Maybe I just got used to the format after receiving the magazine in the mail for several weeks, but in spite of the sometimes irritating attitudes of the editors, EW is probably my favorite entertainment-related magazine on the market. Maybe one of these days I’ll actually start paying for it...
Our latest “free subscription” ran out a few weeks ago, and though I went to Media Play last week, the cashier did not offer the deal and I didn’t ask. We’ve gone through several stretches without the magazine because, while we find it interesting and entertaining, we can’t reconcile the cost of the magazine every week with our attempts to be budget-conscious. However, a good friend of mine usually gets the magazine, and she often passes it along to me so I can catch up on what I’ve missed.
Entertainment Weekly isn’t a terribly substantial magazine. It isn’t uncommon for an issue to contain more than 100 pages, but many of those pages contain ads while others focus prominently on photographs and still others are filled mostly with short snippets about one thing or another. Generally I don’t mind the brief format employed throughout much of the magazine. When I pick up an EW, I’m usually just looking to skim through anyway, unless something particularly catches my eye. There are always a few in-depth articles to offset all the shorter items, and these are well done.
As an American Idol junkie, I particularly enjoyed EW last year with its frequent focus on the contestants and their prospects. Unfortunately I didn’t secure a copy of the clever Brady Bunch-style cover which featured several of the contestants and judges, but I did enjoy reading what the editors had to say about the second season’s crop, particularly Clay Aiken. I have come to the conclusion that the folks over at EW are a rather cynical bunch, and as a result I often disagree with their analyses of certain pop culture phenomena. I noticed that when it was on the air, they seemed to be particularly virulent in their disdain for Touched by an Angel. And I was dismayed that when Art Garfunkel released Everything Waits to be Noticed, the first album on which he took songwriting credits, EW failed to even mention it, even though it came out the month that their magazine featured an extensive list of new music releases.
Although my brother and I refer to EW as “ewwww,” we both find it informative and witty, even if we disagree with the opinion being presented. Some of my favorite aspects of the magazine are their periodic lists on everything from tear-jerking movies to powerful celebrities; their weekly guide to television with editorial comments on each show; their numerous features on American Idol and Lord of the Rings; their various media reviews, particularly for movies; the letters from the readers, who are often very passionate and aggravated with EW; and the once-every-three-weeks column by Steven King. The weekly Hotsheet, which highlights short items of interest from the previous week and adds a humorous comment, usually contains a selection or two that is very entertaining. My favorite, accompanied by a caricature of a grungy-looking Bob Dylan, was printed just after he performed at the Grammys in 2002: “The audience is wondering what song Bob Dylan is singing. And what other song his band is playing.”
Maybe I just got used to the format after receiving the magazine in the mail for several weeks, but in spite of the sometimes irritating attitudes of the editors, EW is probably my favorite entertainment-related magazine on the market. Maybe one of these days I’ll actually start paying for it...
Fiddler on the Roof a Tradition Worth Keeping Alive
A few months ago, my brother came home from school and demanded that I
guess what play his school would be putting on next. When I failed to
answer correctly, he clued me in by imitating a stringed instrument with
his fingers. “Um… Fiddler on the Roof?” I guessed. I was
surprised at the level of enthusiasm this revelation brought him. After
all, he had never tried out for a play at school before and had informed
me on any number of occasions that he disapproved of musicals. Fiddler,
it seemed, was different. “It’s my favorite musical,” he announced. And
when we almost jokingly suggested he think about trying out, knowing
how such suggestions had been taken in the past, Nathan told us he had
every intention of auditioning, not just for a role, but for the
role. He wanted to play Tevye even though his theater experience was
limited to grade school class plays and church pageants. He would show
the world – and, most importantly, the director – what he was capable
of.
As a result of his determination, we experienced absorption to the point of feeling as though our living room had transformed into Anatevka. We knew we were really in trouble when he adopted a Russian accent full-time. I started going into nostalgic shock, as this was the final play performed during my tenure at Mercyhurst Prep and the only one, outside of Children’s Theater Ensemble, in which I had been involved. Nathan alternated between watching the video from that production and the Norman Jewison film. He particularly studied Topol’s performance of If I Were a Rich Man, which he intended to use for his audition. We looked everywhere for the sheet music and found it in the most unlikely of places: a book of songs designed for people intending to audition for American Idol. With Simon Cowell’s apparent disdain for show tunes, particularly in a pop music context, I can’t imagine him being impressed with any rendition of that song in an audition. At any rate, Nathan mastered the song as well as Tevye’s opening monologue.
Although Nathan didn’t end up with a part nearly as large as he’d hoped – most of the top roles went to students who had already been in several plays before – he was awarded the part of Yussel the Hatter, which gave him eight solo lines and time onstage for more than half the play. We had trouble recognizing him at first under his beard, but once we found him we were swept up in his exuberant performance. I spent the first show I attended comparing his show with mine – including the orchestra’s keyboard-generated accordionist, which had been my role in 1999 – and had to concede that Collegiate Academy’s version was comparable in quality to Mercyhurst’s. Nathan was just as caught up in the emotion and camaraderie generated by the play as I had been, and when we watched the film yet again during Easter break, we both had an even deeper appreciation of it.
Fiddler on the Roof is a perennially popular play, almost a requirement for every high school to put on at some time or another. Aside from a couple of missing songs, the movie is very similar to the play and centers around the performance of Topol as Tevye. He was such a perfect fit for the role, he occupied it for decades in London. Having grown up with his rendition of Tevye, I found that the character had become intertwined with the actor’s robust frame and booming voice. It was quite an adjustment to make when our school’s director cast the brilliant but lanky Rick LaKari as the philosophical milkman. He pulled it off beautifully, but I still can’t help thinking of Tevye as a younger Santa Claus with a Russian accent. The cast of the film, and of every play version I’ve seen, has an inconsistent array of accents. Tevye and Yente have by far the strongest accents, while the daughters and many other cast members have barely a trace of an accent. Aside from that minor oddity, all the cast members are solid and form a superb ensemble supporting cast.
Yente (Molly Picon) is a major source of comic relief as Anatevka’s long-winded, absent-minded matchmaker. Although she is one of the only key cast members without a significant solo (at least in the film version), she remains one of the strongest presences in the film, and her scenes with Golde (Norma Crane) are a delight. Golde is a no-nonsense woman, a powerful matriarch who leaves poor Tevye feeling a bit hen-pecked. She is also very superstitious, a trait Tevye uses to his advantage in what is probably the film’s most hilarious scene. Of his five daughters, three are highlighted. Tzeitel (Rosiland Harris), the oldest, is obedient and dutiful but resents Yente’s intrusion in her life. Her lifelong playmate-turned-sweetheart, Motel (Leonard Frey), is absolutely adorable, lithe and lanky and jumpy as a jackrabbit, terrified that Tevye will yell at him if he asks for Tzeitel’s hand. Next down the line is Hodel (Michele Marsh), who is more of a free spirit than her older sister. Initially dreaming of marrying Mendel, the rabbi’s son (a self-important villager played by Barry Dennen, who would go on to have a much larger role as Pontius Pilate in Jewison’s version of Jesus Christ Superstar), she instead falls for Perchik (hunky Michael Glaser), a student from Kiev determined to effect radical change in the Russian government. Third youngest is Chava (Neva Small), a gentle bookworm who shatters Tevye with her defiant marriage to Fyedka (Raymond Lovelock), a Christian. Other key players are the constable (Louis Zorich), a basically decent man compelled by duty to carry out cruel orders against the Jewish Anatevkans alongside whom he has lived for years, and Lazar Wolf (Paul Mann), the jovial frosty-haired butcher whose hopes of marrying Tzeitel are eventually thwarted by Tevye’s devotion to his daughter.
As with any musical, the songs add a great deal to the film. Many songs have a Jewish flavor, particularly the various incarnations of Tradition, the movie’s show-stopping opening number which introduces the various groups in the village. The cinematography in this scene is very interesting; household chores such as scraping chickens and beating rugs become part of the instrumentation. The choreography of flashing images shows up again in Superstar, a film which Jewison was granted permission to shoot on location in the Holy Land because of his respectful treatment of Fiddler. Tevye’s signature song, the rousing rumination If I Were a Rich Man, is a surefire audience pleaser, and Matchmaker, Matchmaker gives the girls a chance to shine and also provides a bit of foreshadowing. Sabbath Prayer and Sunrise, Sunset are as solemn as To Life is rowdy, and The Dream is one of the zaniest musical numbers to grace any musical. Miracle of Miracles is a joyous proclamation of Motel’s evolution from meek boy to self-sufficient husband-to-be. Far From the Home I Love is a similarly defining moment for Hodel, but much more bittersweet as it takes place upon her departure from Anatevka and her family. Do You Love Me is a sweet duet between Tevye and Golde in which they discover they have grown to love one another during their years of marriage. The reprises of Tradition exemplify Tevye’s intensifying inner struggles which come to a head during the heartbreaking Chava Sequence. The last song in the movie is Anatevka, which unites the cast in one last expression of community before they must go their separate ways.
Tevye is both a narrator of sorts and the play’s central figure, a poor milkman with five daughters with a keen sense of wit, a fondness for quoting scripture (often incorrectly), and a penchant for conversing with God while going about his daily chores. Striking a balance between tradition and the changing ways of the world becomes increasingly difficult, and while the majority of the first video is light-hearted, the second half is rather dark and dreary. Family and political crises take the play in a more and more minor direction as the play progresses, but the irrepressible spirit of the villagers imbues the finale with a hint of optimism. With a running time of just over three hours (a bit less if you fast forward through the Entr’Acte, which feels very unnecessary on video), it’s a lengthy film, but the stellar cast, witty script, top-notch songs and themes of faith, family, and the conflict between tradition and change make for an exceptional viewing experience.
As a result of his determination, we experienced absorption to the point of feeling as though our living room had transformed into Anatevka. We knew we were really in trouble when he adopted a Russian accent full-time. I started going into nostalgic shock, as this was the final play performed during my tenure at Mercyhurst Prep and the only one, outside of Children’s Theater Ensemble, in which I had been involved. Nathan alternated between watching the video from that production and the Norman Jewison film. He particularly studied Topol’s performance of If I Were a Rich Man, which he intended to use for his audition. We looked everywhere for the sheet music and found it in the most unlikely of places: a book of songs designed for people intending to audition for American Idol. With Simon Cowell’s apparent disdain for show tunes, particularly in a pop music context, I can’t imagine him being impressed with any rendition of that song in an audition. At any rate, Nathan mastered the song as well as Tevye’s opening monologue.
Although Nathan didn’t end up with a part nearly as large as he’d hoped – most of the top roles went to students who had already been in several plays before – he was awarded the part of Yussel the Hatter, which gave him eight solo lines and time onstage for more than half the play. We had trouble recognizing him at first under his beard, but once we found him we were swept up in his exuberant performance. I spent the first show I attended comparing his show with mine – including the orchestra’s keyboard-generated accordionist, which had been my role in 1999 – and had to concede that Collegiate Academy’s version was comparable in quality to Mercyhurst’s. Nathan was just as caught up in the emotion and camaraderie generated by the play as I had been, and when we watched the film yet again during Easter break, we both had an even deeper appreciation of it.
Fiddler on the Roof is a perennially popular play, almost a requirement for every high school to put on at some time or another. Aside from a couple of missing songs, the movie is very similar to the play and centers around the performance of Topol as Tevye. He was such a perfect fit for the role, he occupied it for decades in London. Having grown up with his rendition of Tevye, I found that the character had become intertwined with the actor’s robust frame and booming voice. It was quite an adjustment to make when our school’s director cast the brilliant but lanky Rick LaKari as the philosophical milkman. He pulled it off beautifully, but I still can’t help thinking of Tevye as a younger Santa Claus with a Russian accent. The cast of the film, and of every play version I’ve seen, has an inconsistent array of accents. Tevye and Yente have by far the strongest accents, while the daughters and many other cast members have barely a trace of an accent. Aside from that minor oddity, all the cast members are solid and form a superb ensemble supporting cast.
Yente (Molly Picon) is a major source of comic relief as Anatevka’s long-winded, absent-minded matchmaker. Although she is one of the only key cast members without a significant solo (at least in the film version), she remains one of the strongest presences in the film, and her scenes with Golde (Norma Crane) are a delight. Golde is a no-nonsense woman, a powerful matriarch who leaves poor Tevye feeling a bit hen-pecked. She is also very superstitious, a trait Tevye uses to his advantage in what is probably the film’s most hilarious scene. Of his five daughters, three are highlighted. Tzeitel (Rosiland Harris), the oldest, is obedient and dutiful but resents Yente’s intrusion in her life. Her lifelong playmate-turned-sweetheart, Motel (Leonard Frey), is absolutely adorable, lithe and lanky and jumpy as a jackrabbit, terrified that Tevye will yell at him if he asks for Tzeitel’s hand. Next down the line is Hodel (Michele Marsh), who is more of a free spirit than her older sister. Initially dreaming of marrying Mendel, the rabbi’s son (a self-important villager played by Barry Dennen, who would go on to have a much larger role as Pontius Pilate in Jewison’s version of Jesus Christ Superstar), she instead falls for Perchik (hunky Michael Glaser), a student from Kiev determined to effect radical change in the Russian government. Third youngest is Chava (Neva Small), a gentle bookworm who shatters Tevye with her defiant marriage to Fyedka (Raymond Lovelock), a Christian. Other key players are the constable (Louis Zorich), a basically decent man compelled by duty to carry out cruel orders against the Jewish Anatevkans alongside whom he has lived for years, and Lazar Wolf (Paul Mann), the jovial frosty-haired butcher whose hopes of marrying Tzeitel are eventually thwarted by Tevye’s devotion to his daughter.
As with any musical, the songs add a great deal to the film. Many songs have a Jewish flavor, particularly the various incarnations of Tradition, the movie’s show-stopping opening number which introduces the various groups in the village. The cinematography in this scene is very interesting; household chores such as scraping chickens and beating rugs become part of the instrumentation. The choreography of flashing images shows up again in Superstar, a film which Jewison was granted permission to shoot on location in the Holy Land because of his respectful treatment of Fiddler. Tevye’s signature song, the rousing rumination If I Were a Rich Man, is a surefire audience pleaser, and Matchmaker, Matchmaker gives the girls a chance to shine and also provides a bit of foreshadowing. Sabbath Prayer and Sunrise, Sunset are as solemn as To Life is rowdy, and The Dream is one of the zaniest musical numbers to grace any musical. Miracle of Miracles is a joyous proclamation of Motel’s evolution from meek boy to self-sufficient husband-to-be. Far From the Home I Love is a similarly defining moment for Hodel, but much more bittersweet as it takes place upon her departure from Anatevka and her family. Do You Love Me is a sweet duet between Tevye and Golde in which they discover they have grown to love one another during their years of marriage. The reprises of Tradition exemplify Tevye’s intensifying inner struggles which come to a head during the heartbreaking Chava Sequence. The last song in the movie is Anatevka, which unites the cast in one last expression of community before they must go their separate ways.
Tevye is both a narrator of sorts and the play’s central figure, a poor milkman with five daughters with a keen sense of wit, a fondness for quoting scripture (often incorrectly), and a penchant for conversing with God while going about his daily chores. Striking a balance between tradition and the changing ways of the world becomes increasingly difficult, and while the majority of the first video is light-hearted, the second half is rather dark and dreary. Family and political crises take the play in a more and more minor direction as the play progresses, but the irrepressible spirit of the villagers imbues the finale with a hint of optimism. With a running time of just over three hours (a bit less if you fast forward through the Entr’Acte, which feels very unnecessary on video), it’s a lengthy film, but the stellar cast, witty script, top-notch songs and themes of faith, family, and the conflict between tradition and change make for an exceptional viewing experience.
Reader's Digest a Great Investment, Even if You Just Read the Jokes
My family has subscribed to a number of magazines over the years,
particularly when my brothers and I were younger, but the one that we
have had in our house more than any other is Reader’s Digest. When we had to sell magazines in grade school, we always got special bonuses for each copy of Reader’s Digest
that we sold because those in charge of the fundraiser knew that was
one magazine people would be especially likely to buy. With an average
of about 200 pages, it’s well worth the newsstand price of three
dollars, and it’s book-like structure is more convenient than the larger
format of most magazines.
Certain features of the magazine change from time to time. I was disappointed when one of my favorite segments, Towards More Picturesque Speech, made its departure several years ago, but I love the additions of a letter to the editor section (You Said It) and an advice column (Ask Laskas). The back cover of the magazine has undergone many transformations. The current format is one of my favorites, featuring the specially commissioned Norman Rockwell-esque paintings of C. F. Payne and entitled Our America.
Some issues of Reader’s Digest contain a certain theme that runs throughout the magazine. These have ranged from humor to Christmas to the most recent issue’s America’s 100 Best, highlighting the editors’ choices for the best America has to offer in a variety of categories. I was particularly tickled to discover my own hometown of Erie, PA, among the honorees; under the “Best Headline” category, the Erie Times-News won for its beach-cleanup headline “Little white butts litter beach,” five little words that caused quite a stir when they leaped off the front page of our paper.
Whether or not an issue is unified by a particular topic, you can always expect to find interesting articles on a variety of topics as well as personal essays, at least one in-depth interview, and short bits of information and humor. I’ve never read an issue of the magazine cover to cover, but I always find longer items of interest to me. Some are heartwarming or thought-provoking, others are strictly informative or lend insight into the life of a famous figure. My parents and I don’t always read the same articles, but there’s never an issue bare of intriguing material.
My favorite parts of Reader’s Digest, however, are generally the sections which appear in every issue and don’t require more than a few minutes at a time to read. I love the amusing anecdotes that appear at the end of articles and the larger collections of these humorous stories in Life in These United States, Humor in Uniform, All in a Day’s Work, and Laughter, the Best Medicine. It’s also fun to come up with my own submissions for the magazine, even though I have sent several in with no success so far. With a potential of $300 for an amusing anecdote, it’s worth a try! I also enjoy Quotable Quotes and the zany, Dave Barry-like ruminations of Mary Roach.
More substantive than many magazines on the market and containing a relatively low number of the ads that plague the pages of so many periodicals, Reader’s Digest is a good solid magazine that more than makes up for the three-dollar-a-month investment.
Certain features of the magazine change from time to time. I was disappointed when one of my favorite segments, Towards More Picturesque Speech, made its departure several years ago, but I love the additions of a letter to the editor section (You Said It) and an advice column (Ask Laskas). The back cover of the magazine has undergone many transformations. The current format is one of my favorites, featuring the specially commissioned Norman Rockwell-esque paintings of C. F. Payne and entitled Our America.
Some issues of Reader’s Digest contain a certain theme that runs throughout the magazine. These have ranged from humor to Christmas to the most recent issue’s America’s 100 Best, highlighting the editors’ choices for the best America has to offer in a variety of categories. I was particularly tickled to discover my own hometown of Erie, PA, among the honorees; under the “Best Headline” category, the Erie Times-News won for its beach-cleanup headline “Little white butts litter beach,” five little words that caused quite a stir when they leaped off the front page of our paper.
Whether or not an issue is unified by a particular topic, you can always expect to find interesting articles on a variety of topics as well as personal essays, at least one in-depth interview, and short bits of information and humor. I’ve never read an issue of the magazine cover to cover, but I always find longer items of interest to me. Some are heartwarming or thought-provoking, others are strictly informative or lend insight into the life of a famous figure. My parents and I don’t always read the same articles, but there’s never an issue bare of intriguing material.
My favorite parts of Reader’s Digest, however, are generally the sections which appear in every issue and don’t require more than a few minutes at a time to read. I love the amusing anecdotes that appear at the end of articles and the larger collections of these humorous stories in Life in These United States, Humor in Uniform, All in a Day’s Work, and Laughter, the Best Medicine. It’s also fun to come up with my own submissions for the magazine, even though I have sent several in with no success so far. With a potential of $300 for an amusing anecdote, it’s worth a try! I also enjoy Quotable Quotes and the zany, Dave Barry-like ruminations of Mary Roach.
More substantive than many magazines on the market and containing a relatively low number of the ads that plague the pages of so many periodicals, Reader’s Digest is a good solid magazine that more than makes up for the three-dollar-a-month investment.
Cleary Captures Childhood Hilarity with Ramona
When I was younger, I was probably the biggest bookworm I knew. I filled
my shelves with books at every opportunity I got, and many of those
books remain today. One author whose books I have collected and
cherished over the years in Beverly Cleary. The continuing adventures of
the Quimby family are especially enjoyable. Although Cleary wrote the
books over the course of several decades, there is great continuity from
book to book and always a keen understanding of how young children
think. I’ve been stuck in a writing rut for quite a while, and I’ve
begun rereading my Ramona books for inspiration. The books don’t take
long to plow through now; I can finish one in about a two-hour sitting.
But they are just as insightful and comical as ever, and Cleary’s
incredible skill is readily evident.
Ramona Quimby, Age 8 finds Ramona starting a new chapter in her life: third grade. Not only does this new year bring a new teacher and a classroom, it also finds Ramona at a new school, which she must get to by bus, much to her delight. Meanwhile, her sister Beezus is just as excited to start junior high school, and Mr. Quimby looks forward to earning his teaching degree at a local college. He also takes on a part-time job in a frozen foods plant, and Mrs. Quimby continues her job as a receptionist. The family cat, Picky-picky, remains as ornery as ever. Her parents’ busy schedules require Ramona to spend her afternoons with her best friend Howie Kemp at his grandmother’s house, which wouldn’t be so bad if Howie wasn’t always taking off on his bike and leaving Ramona to keep an eye on his annoying little sister, Willa Jean.
In the book’s first pages, Ramona has an encounter with a boy named Danny whom she initially deems a nemesis but grows fond of despite his brutish mannerisms. She also meets her teacher, and though Ramona loves the third grade addition of Sustained Silent Reading (or, as most of her classmates prefer to call it, DEAR – Drop Everything and Read), she isn’t quite sure what to make of the woman, especially after she overhears her refer to Ramona as a show-off and nuisance after an unfortunate incident with an egg. Ramona’s 8-year-old triumphs and tribulations are true to life and a delight to read, from learning cursive (and discovering the cursive “Q” is not nearly as much fun as the printed version) and making dinner for the first time to throwing up in class and presenting a book report in the style of a cat food commercial.
Ramona is a character many children, male or female, can identify with. She lives in the shadow of her perfectionist big sister. She is often blamed for events that are not her fault. She worries about small things, like how to get her new eraser back from that “yard ape” Danny, and big things, like whether her mom will have to quit her job and her dad will have to quit school and go back to work at the grocery store if she fails to entertain Willa Jean to Mrs. Kemp’s satisfaction. Ramona is one of the most enjoyable characters in children’s literature, and this book contains many of her most interesting adventures. Highly recommended for 8-year-olds and anyone who remembers, or wants to remember, what it was like to be eight.
Ramona Quimby, Age 8 finds Ramona starting a new chapter in her life: third grade. Not only does this new year bring a new teacher and a classroom, it also finds Ramona at a new school, which she must get to by bus, much to her delight. Meanwhile, her sister Beezus is just as excited to start junior high school, and Mr. Quimby looks forward to earning his teaching degree at a local college. He also takes on a part-time job in a frozen foods plant, and Mrs. Quimby continues her job as a receptionist. The family cat, Picky-picky, remains as ornery as ever. Her parents’ busy schedules require Ramona to spend her afternoons with her best friend Howie Kemp at his grandmother’s house, which wouldn’t be so bad if Howie wasn’t always taking off on his bike and leaving Ramona to keep an eye on his annoying little sister, Willa Jean.
In the book’s first pages, Ramona has an encounter with a boy named Danny whom she initially deems a nemesis but grows fond of despite his brutish mannerisms. She also meets her teacher, and though Ramona loves the third grade addition of Sustained Silent Reading (or, as most of her classmates prefer to call it, DEAR – Drop Everything and Read), she isn’t quite sure what to make of the woman, especially after she overhears her refer to Ramona as a show-off and nuisance after an unfortunate incident with an egg. Ramona’s 8-year-old triumphs and tribulations are true to life and a delight to read, from learning cursive (and discovering the cursive “Q” is not nearly as much fun as the printed version) and making dinner for the first time to throwing up in class and presenting a book report in the style of a cat food commercial.
Ramona is a character many children, male or female, can identify with. She lives in the shadow of her perfectionist big sister. She is often blamed for events that are not her fault. She worries about small things, like how to get her new eraser back from that “yard ape” Danny, and big things, like whether her mom will have to quit her job and her dad will have to quit school and go back to work at the grocery store if she fails to entertain Willa Jean to Mrs. Kemp’s satisfaction. Ramona is one of the most enjoyable characters in children’s literature, and this book contains many of her most interesting adventures. Highly recommended for 8-year-olds and anyone who remembers, or wants to remember, what it was like to be eight.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
A Very Veggie Easter with a Dickensian Twist
When I returned to work in Waldenbooks last month, one of the first
things I noticed was a prominently displayed storybook based on the
latest VeggieTales offering, An Easter Carol. I’d never heard
about this video, but I knew I’d have to pick it up soon. So yesterday I
went out and purchased the latest addition to my VeggieTales library,
along with The Wonderful World of Auto-Tainment, which I somehow
never picked up when it was released last year. My VeggieTales
collecting has been somewhat lacking lately; I also failed to buy The Star of Christmas,
the precursor to this video, when it first came out, and have since
only been able to find it at Tops, inexplicably packaged with an AOL
free trial CD. I did, however, see it on PBS on Christmas Eve the year
it came out, so I had been introduced to the characters and setting
which were revisited in An Easter Carol.
Like its companion Christmas special, this latest offering clocks in at about 45 minutes and features a cast of Victorian characters including Millward Phelps (Larry the Cucumber) and Cavis Appythart (Bob the Tomato), Pastor Gilbert and his wife and son Edmund (Dad, Mom, and Junior Asparagus), and featured character, Mr. Ebenezer Nezzer. The first time Mr. Nezzer showed up in a VeggieTales video, it was as the crazed boss of a chocolate bunny-making factory. His role here is similar, but this time it’s plastic eggs that he produces – though chocolate bunnies do figure into his plan for Easterland, a grand attraction which will replace the old church that has been a town fixture since before he was born. Although Mr. Nezzer’s beloved grandmother tried to teach him about the joy of Easter, he missed the point. Now it’s up to an angel named Hope (voiced by Grammy award-winning singer Rebecca St. James) to enlighten him.
The story is based on Charles Dickens’ classic A Christmas Carol, with Nezzer occupying the role of Scrooge and little Edmund becoming Tiny Tim. Nezzer is not quite so misanthropic as that other Ebenezer; everything he does is out of a desire to carry out the wishes of his dearly departed grandmother. Still, he is rather self-serving and egotistical, and certainly not too bright. His grandmother informs him of the error of his ways in a vision, leaping eerily out of her portrait on the wall to chide him for his Caesar-like failure to listen to her warnings. But she leaves the bulk of the instruction to Hope, a sprightly, sarcastic entity whose frustration with the old miser knows no bounds. She shows him an Easter service from his childhood, a recent meeting with an oddball inventor (Pa Grape) regarding his grand Easter ambitions (expressed through an entertaining ditty parodying The Music Man’s Rock Island), the current day at the Gilbert household, and, after a song chronicling the life of Jesus, a glimpse of the future without the hope of Easter. Like Scrooge, he is left profoundly changed by the vision, and the rest of the video involves his efforts to save the church from the construction crews under his command and avert a disaster back at the factory.
The VeggieTales gang has been venturing lately into different formats, abandoning such standbys as the countertop lessons and Silly Songs with Larry in favor of a more cinematic approach. While I enjoy the efforts and the massive attention to detail found in the costumes and settings, I think my favorite videos will always be the ones that contain these elements. There’s plenty of music here, but most of the songs are rather serious and the closest thing to a Silly Song, Nezzer’s rhythmic banter with the inventor, seems pretty hard to sing along with. I didn’t walk away from the video humming anything, as I often do with VeggieTales. The overall tone was more serious than most, and it was definitely more preachy than videos in this series generally are. In addition, I confess I found the much-hyped Hope rather annoying; her attitude seemed a bit caustic to me, and her accent struck me as inconsistent at times. (Interestingly, although this takes place in London, only about half of the characters have British voices; I guess it’s too complicated to give an already invented voice an accent.)
Those quibbles aside, this is nonetheless a solid production and a welcome addition to the VeggieTales line. It’s about time they had an Easter video, and the silly antics of Cavis and Millward provide plenty of levity to balance the serious message. Although it isn’t necessary to see The Star of Christmas prior to this, I would recommend it, as that video provides an introduction to the characters and contains events which are referred to in An Easter Carol. It’s a little late to stick this in an Easter basket this year, but the story is one to be appreciated all year long.
Like its companion Christmas special, this latest offering clocks in at about 45 minutes and features a cast of Victorian characters including Millward Phelps (Larry the Cucumber) and Cavis Appythart (Bob the Tomato), Pastor Gilbert and his wife and son Edmund (Dad, Mom, and Junior Asparagus), and featured character, Mr. Ebenezer Nezzer. The first time Mr. Nezzer showed up in a VeggieTales video, it was as the crazed boss of a chocolate bunny-making factory. His role here is similar, but this time it’s plastic eggs that he produces – though chocolate bunnies do figure into his plan for Easterland, a grand attraction which will replace the old church that has been a town fixture since before he was born. Although Mr. Nezzer’s beloved grandmother tried to teach him about the joy of Easter, he missed the point. Now it’s up to an angel named Hope (voiced by Grammy award-winning singer Rebecca St. James) to enlighten him.
The story is based on Charles Dickens’ classic A Christmas Carol, with Nezzer occupying the role of Scrooge and little Edmund becoming Tiny Tim. Nezzer is not quite so misanthropic as that other Ebenezer; everything he does is out of a desire to carry out the wishes of his dearly departed grandmother. Still, he is rather self-serving and egotistical, and certainly not too bright. His grandmother informs him of the error of his ways in a vision, leaping eerily out of her portrait on the wall to chide him for his Caesar-like failure to listen to her warnings. But she leaves the bulk of the instruction to Hope, a sprightly, sarcastic entity whose frustration with the old miser knows no bounds. She shows him an Easter service from his childhood, a recent meeting with an oddball inventor (Pa Grape) regarding his grand Easter ambitions (expressed through an entertaining ditty parodying The Music Man’s Rock Island), the current day at the Gilbert household, and, after a song chronicling the life of Jesus, a glimpse of the future without the hope of Easter. Like Scrooge, he is left profoundly changed by the vision, and the rest of the video involves his efforts to save the church from the construction crews under his command and avert a disaster back at the factory.
The VeggieTales gang has been venturing lately into different formats, abandoning such standbys as the countertop lessons and Silly Songs with Larry in favor of a more cinematic approach. While I enjoy the efforts and the massive attention to detail found in the costumes and settings, I think my favorite videos will always be the ones that contain these elements. There’s plenty of music here, but most of the songs are rather serious and the closest thing to a Silly Song, Nezzer’s rhythmic banter with the inventor, seems pretty hard to sing along with. I didn’t walk away from the video humming anything, as I often do with VeggieTales. The overall tone was more serious than most, and it was definitely more preachy than videos in this series generally are. In addition, I confess I found the much-hyped Hope rather annoying; her attitude seemed a bit caustic to me, and her accent struck me as inconsistent at times. (Interestingly, although this takes place in London, only about half of the characters have British voices; I guess it’s too complicated to give an already invented voice an accent.)
Those quibbles aside, this is nonetheless a solid production and a welcome addition to the VeggieTales line. It’s about time they had an Easter video, and the silly antics of Cavis and Millward provide plenty of levity to balance the serious message. Although it isn’t necessary to see The Star of Christmas prior to this, I would recommend it, as that video provides an introduction to the characters and contains events which are referred to in An Easter Carol. It’s a little late to stick this in an Easter basket this year, but the story is one to be appreciated all year long.
Bob and Larry Don't Get Any Sillier than This
It took me awhile to pick up The Wonderful World of Auto-Tainment,
an off-the-wall VeggieTales offering that showed up on the shelves last
year, but I finally got my hands on it yesterday. It’s a video so out
of the ordinary it rather defies categorization. It falls somewhat in
line with the Silly Sing-along videos, but there are no words at the
bottom of the screen and the songs are not derived from earlier videos.
In fact, most of them are not original creations at all, but traditional
campfire and church songs, with some opera (provided by a cute but very
random aardvark) and Gilbert and Sullivan thrown in for good measure.
The video begins with Larry refusing to participate in the traditional performance of the VeggieTales theme song. He explains to Bob that theme songs have no place in the future of entertainment because they are predictable. In the future, all entertainment will be randomly generated. Bob and Larry find themselves in a white room where two robots are about to begin hosting a show. (This no-frills background is indicative of things to come, as most of the video features elements done in two dimensions in a very simple animation style, an ironic attribute for a video about the future.) Larry observes with excitement as the robots crack jokes in which the set-up and punchline don’t match up. “You weren’t expecting that, were you, Bob? That’s what makes it funny!” Bob’s confusion continues to grow as the auto-tainment theme song plays amidst kaleidoscopic images of the Veggie characters, but the robots forge ahead, randomly selecting characters to sing songs featuring random topics.
The most entertaining of these musical numbers were, for me, the first and third. The first song, provided by the French peas, was a recitation of the campfire favorite There’s a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea, a song which builds upon itself until the final rundown: “There’s a flea on the wing of the fly on the frog on the bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea.” The tune is accompanied by a slide presentation that starts out sedately but grows more and more chaotic, featuring pictures bearing little or no resemblance to the object being mentioned. Keep your eyes glued to the screen for this one. My other favorite was Archibald Asparagus’ breathless rendition of Modern Major General. Having recently seen Pirates of Penzance at my former high school, I found this number particularly entertaining, and Archibald possessed precisely the right demeanor to pull the song off with perfect comedic flair.
Also included in the video is a short film similar to those played prior to the showing of Pixar movies like A Bug’s Life and Finding Nemo. Entitled Lunch, the short begins with a quote from Paul about the woes that arise from being greedy. Like most of those Pixar featurettes, this one is silent, but the characters do a fine job of conveying emotions without words. The characters in question are a strange bird-like creature and his dog. As they sit down to enjoy their lunch on a park bench, the bird notices a billboard advertising meat-flavored candy bars. Suddenly his sandwich looks woefully inadequate, so it is with joy that he discovers a vending machine nearby. What follows is a series of hilarious mishaps that culminate in a moment of bitter – and somewhat distasteful – irony. A very entertaining interlude.
As the entertainment wears on, the smaller of the two robots shows signs of fatigue, or cross-circuiting. He is acting extremely bizarre, and his more level-headed co-host is at a loss to make sense of his irrational actions. Bob, meanwhile, grows more and more frustrated as the show proceeds, until he can hide his disdain no longer. He takes his role as host very seriously, and he’s always been uneasy with anyone else trying to do the job for him. Just when he’s about ready to hijack the show from the robots, Larry enlists Junior Asparagus with the task of bringing meaning into this muddle with a sentimental song about how God loves us even when things go wrong.
Despite this last-minute message, this is hardly a didactic video. Instead, it is an opportunity for the VeggieTales gang to stuff as much silliness as they can into a video while honoring some of their favorite childhood songs. It also hints that technology can be a great asset to humanity but should never replace it entirely, but mostly it just provides a silly vision of the future that allows us to appreciate the present all the more.
The video begins with Larry refusing to participate in the traditional performance of the VeggieTales theme song. He explains to Bob that theme songs have no place in the future of entertainment because they are predictable. In the future, all entertainment will be randomly generated. Bob and Larry find themselves in a white room where two robots are about to begin hosting a show. (This no-frills background is indicative of things to come, as most of the video features elements done in two dimensions in a very simple animation style, an ironic attribute for a video about the future.) Larry observes with excitement as the robots crack jokes in which the set-up and punchline don’t match up. “You weren’t expecting that, were you, Bob? That’s what makes it funny!” Bob’s confusion continues to grow as the auto-tainment theme song plays amidst kaleidoscopic images of the Veggie characters, but the robots forge ahead, randomly selecting characters to sing songs featuring random topics.
The most entertaining of these musical numbers were, for me, the first and third. The first song, provided by the French peas, was a recitation of the campfire favorite There’s a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea, a song which builds upon itself until the final rundown: “There’s a flea on the wing of the fly on the frog on the bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea.” The tune is accompanied by a slide presentation that starts out sedately but grows more and more chaotic, featuring pictures bearing little or no resemblance to the object being mentioned. Keep your eyes glued to the screen for this one. My other favorite was Archibald Asparagus’ breathless rendition of Modern Major General. Having recently seen Pirates of Penzance at my former high school, I found this number particularly entertaining, and Archibald possessed precisely the right demeanor to pull the song off with perfect comedic flair.
Also included in the video is a short film similar to those played prior to the showing of Pixar movies like A Bug’s Life and Finding Nemo. Entitled Lunch, the short begins with a quote from Paul about the woes that arise from being greedy. Like most of those Pixar featurettes, this one is silent, but the characters do a fine job of conveying emotions without words. The characters in question are a strange bird-like creature and his dog. As they sit down to enjoy their lunch on a park bench, the bird notices a billboard advertising meat-flavored candy bars. Suddenly his sandwich looks woefully inadequate, so it is with joy that he discovers a vending machine nearby. What follows is a series of hilarious mishaps that culminate in a moment of bitter – and somewhat distasteful – irony. A very entertaining interlude.
As the entertainment wears on, the smaller of the two robots shows signs of fatigue, or cross-circuiting. He is acting extremely bizarre, and his more level-headed co-host is at a loss to make sense of his irrational actions. Bob, meanwhile, grows more and more frustrated as the show proceeds, until he can hide his disdain no longer. He takes his role as host very seriously, and he’s always been uneasy with anyone else trying to do the job for him. Just when he’s about ready to hijack the show from the robots, Larry enlists Junior Asparagus with the task of bringing meaning into this muddle with a sentimental song about how God loves us even when things go wrong.
Despite this last-minute message, this is hardly a didactic video. Instead, it is an opportunity for the VeggieTales gang to stuff as much silliness as they can into a video while honoring some of their favorite childhood songs. It also hints that technology can be a great asset to humanity but should never replace it entirely, but mostly it just provides a silly vision of the future that allows us to appreciate the present all the more.
Tuesday, April 6, 2004
Sedaris Strikes Again with Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim
During my last semester as a Creative Writing major at Penn State
Behrend, I took an advanced nonfiction workshop. This was one of the
most unique classes I took at Behrend, not least because I was one of
only five students, two of whom received Creative Writing degrees with
me last May. Our small group learned a lot about the craft of writing
nonfiction both from critiquing one another’s work and reading
collections from established authors. One of these books was Naked,
by David Sedaris. I had never heard of him before, but he tickled my
funny bone and, at times, touched my heart. His sharp wit and keen
insight made him a favorite amongst the writers whose essays we perused.
After reading his book, I began hearing his name come up from time to
time, most often on NPR, for which he commentates regularly. Then last
week, one of my co-workers at the bookstore where I work asked if I
liked David Sedaris. I said I did, so she handed me an advance copy of
his latest book, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. I toted it home happily and read through it to find that I enjoyed it as much as Naked.
The majority of the essays in the book feature Sedaris’ family members in various stages of life. Sedaris revisits his childhood numerous times, showing his readers that even from an early age he felt profoundly different from those around him with details ranging from his discomfort at a neighbor’s sleepover to his obsession with keeping his room immaculate. While his mother and sisters – particularly the oldest, Lisa – come across pretty well most of the time, he tends to vilify his father and, to a somewhat lesser extent, his brother Paul. It seems that Paul is the son his father wishes David had been. He depicts both men as coarse, foul-mouthed, and ultra-masculine. While they don’t exactly shun David, it’s clear that neither has much respect for him. That he goes through life expecting to be a failure seems largely attributable to his father’s attitudes.
Sedaris himself generally comes across as a likable fellow. He’s endearingly timid, a Piglet in a world far more threatening than the Hundred Acre Wood. While his anxiety leads him to always see the worst possibilities in each situation, the most negative encounters he has in this book are with members of his own family, and most of these are balanced out by more positive experiences. Sedaris has been established as a writer for some time, and he brings that aspect of his life into a few of these essays. His members fear that anything they tell him could show up in print; he feels compelled to milk their experiences for their storytelling potential but also feels guilty for becoming so detached and willing to expose his family’s secrets. We also learn in this volume that a movie based on his writing is in the works, making his relatives, especially Lisa, even more uncomfortable.
“Creative nonfiction,” the recently coined term used to classify memoirs and other nonfiction that is more literary than factual, has enjoyed a popularity boom in the last few years. Many would-be writers are mining their own memories for stories rather than building them from scratch. Such efforts are often rewarding for both author and reader, but they do carry a risk of offending those who appear in the essays. Sedaris seems to have come to terms with that possibility. He is frank and does not appear to be glossing over the grittier traits of his supporting cast of characters. But he doesn’t let himself off the hook either, and in the end none of the book’s inhabitants is entirely one-sided.
One odd thing about books of essays such as this is that they tend to skip around. They don’t follow a particular timeline, alternating between childhood, early adulthood, and the present, sometimes in a single essay. While most of the essays are directly connected in some way with at least one other essay in the book, the reasoning behind the order is not always clear. Additionally, I was a bit disappointed with the book’s ending; the final few paragraphs of Naked, contained in the essay of the same title, were incredibly insightful and lyrical and brought resolution to many of the themes he developed throughout the book. The conclusion of Dress Your Family just doesn’t pack that much of a wallop, though it does focus largely on the feelings of anxiety and inadequacy that plague Sedaris throughout the book. Unlike Naked, this book’s title is not drawn from the title of one of the essays, and I don’t recall seeing those words pop up in the body of an essay either. My guess, though, is that it has to do with the glaring differences between him and his brother. Although Paul actually occupies little of the book, a much greater portion of the book has a phantom Paul, an expectation looming over Sedaris’ head that he is unable to fulfill. So the corduroy is David, while the denim is Paul. It seems to be a direct plea to his father to accept them both as they are. The degree to which that acceptance is achieved is debatable, but they remain a family in spite of it all. Flawed? Certainly. But also beautifully real.
I’ve heard Sedaris described as America’s favorite humorist, and while my vote would probably go to Garrison Keillor, I do think Sedaris is a very gifted writer who is well worth checking out. His essays do tend to be peppered with profanity, though rarely emanating from Sedaris himself, and some of the situations depicted are rather crude, but for the most part they are a very good read, entertaining and insightful. I don’t know if this latest book will enjoy the phenomenal success that his last book, Me Talk Pretty One Day, did, but fans of his writing should not be disappointed.
The majority of the essays in the book feature Sedaris’ family members in various stages of life. Sedaris revisits his childhood numerous times, showing his readers that even from an early age he felt profoundly different from those around him with details ranging from his discomfort at a neighbor’s sleepover to his obsession with keeping his room immaculate. While his mother and sisters – particularly the oldest, Lisa – come across pretty well most of the time, he tends to vilify his father and, to a somewhat lesser extent, his brother Paul. It seems that Paul is the son his father wishes David had been. He depicts both men as coarse, foul-mouthed, and ultra-masculine. While they don’t exactly shun David, it’s clear that neither has much respect for him. That he goes through life expecting to be a failure seems largely attributable to his father’s attitudes.
Sedaris himself generally comes across as a likable fellow. He’s endearingly timid, a Piglet in a world far more threatening than the Hundred Acre Wood. While his anxiety leads him to always see the worst possibilities in each situation, the most negative encounters he has in this book are with members of his own family, and most of these are balanced out by more positive experiences. Sedaris has been established as a writer for some time, and he brings that aspect of his life into a few of these essays. His members fear that anything they tell him could show up in print; he feels compelled to milk their experiences for their storytelling potential but also feels guilty for becoming so detached and willing to expose his family’s secrets. We also learn in this volume that a movie based on his writing is in the works, making his relatives, especially Lisa, even more uncomfortable.
“Creative nonfiction,” the recently coined term used to classify memoirs and other nonfiction that is more literary than factual, has enjoyed a popularity boom in the last few years. Many would-be writers are mining their own memories for stories rather than building them from scratch. Such efforts are often rewarding for both author and reader, but they do carry a risk of offending those who appear in the essays. Sedaris seems to have come to terms with that possibility. He is frank and does not appear to be glossing over the grittier traits of his supporting cast of characters. But he doesn’t let himself off the hook either, and in the end none of the book’s inhabitants is entirely one-sided.
One odd thing about books of essays such as this is that they tend to skip around. They don’t follow a particular timeline, alternating between childhood, early adulthood, and the present, sometimes in a single essay. While most of the essays are directly connected in some way with at least one other essay in the book, the reasoning behind the order is not always clear. Additionally, I was a bit disappointed with the book’s ending; the final few paragraphs of Naked, contained in the essay of the same title, were incredibly insightful and lyrical and brought resolution to many of the themes he developed throughout the book. The conclusion of Dress Your Family just doesn’t pack that much of a wallop, though it does focus largely on the feelings of anxiety and inadequacy that plague Sedaris throughout the book. Unlike Naked, this book’s title is not drawn from the title of one of the essays, and I don’t recall seeing those words pop up in the body of an essay either. My guess, though, is that it has to do with the glaring differences between him and his brother. Although Paul actually occupies little of the book, a much greater portion of the book has a phantom Paul, an expectation looming over Sedaris’ head that he is unable to fulfill. So the corduroy is David, while the denim is Paul. It seems to be a direct plea to his father to accept them both as they are. The degree to which that acceptance is achieved is debatable, but they remain a family in spite of it all. Flawed? Certainly. But also beautifully real.
I’ve heard Sedaris described as America’s favorite humorist, and while my vote would probably go to Garrison Keillor, I do think Sedaris is a very gifted writer who is well worth checking out. His essays do tend to be peppered with profanity, though rarely emanating from Sedaris himself, and some of the situations depicted are rather crude, but for the most part they are a very good read, entertaining and insightful. I don’t know if this latest book will enjoy the phenomenal success that his last book, Me Talk Pretty One Day, did, but fans of his writing should not be disappointed.
With or Without the Irish Rovers, Will Millar's a Keeper
Back in seventh grade, I was thrilled to receive tickets to see the Irish Rovers, whose Tales to Warm Your Mind
was one of the most cherished albums of my childhood. I didn’t know
they were still touring; nobody I talked to had ever even heard of them.
But I couldn’t wait to go see them. I was a little disappointed when I
went that not a single song from that album was included in the set
list, but there were plenty of other wonderful songs that I soon grew to
love. One of them was The Keeper, which they announced would be
on Will Millar’s upcoming solo album of the same name. The gregarious
Will did most of the talking for the band and seemed to take the lead in
everything, so I took him to be the leader; I only recently found out
that the band was actually formed by his brother George. At any rate,
Will was my favorite of the group and his contribution to it was
certainly substantial, so I was sorry to hear that he would be
leaving but looked forward to the album. As it turned out, he didn’t
leave for a while; when I saw them again the next year, Will was still
there. But the next time they came through Erie, he had officially
embarked upon his solo career.
The Keeper, like Millar’s other post-Rovers album A Lark in the Clear Aire, features most of the Rovers, so there doesn’t seem to be any bad blood between them. And, as I said, they performed the title song at their concert. Unfortunately, the album is hard to come by; I ordered it online when he first released it, and I’ve never seen it in the stores. You’d have to do a bit of hunting to find it, but it’s worth the effort. Unlike Lark, this is not a particularly Irish album. Millar has always had a special fondness for children, and that affection comes out in this album for the younger set. As far as I know, only three of the song’s tracks - The Unicorn (the focal point of the album’s fanciful cover), Bog Down in the Valley-O, and Biplane Evermore - appeared on Rovers albums. But many of the tracks have an Irish feel to them thanks to the instruments and the accents of Will and the other vocalists. Just as prominent are the environmentalist and pacifist themes that run through the album.
Just a Little Bitty Ball - This song focuses both on environmental and pacifist concerns. The primary consideration is the preservation of the Earth, but one verse is dedicated to a desire for people to get along and stop hurting one another. A nice way to start off the album.
The Tree Planting Song - This song also incorporates both themes, starting with the idea of planting trees but focusing mostly on making friends and spreading love. The song has a very simple structure and sort of a country feel to it; it’s one of the least Irish-sounding songs on the album but has a great message: “When you give away the gift of love, it comes back sevenfold.”
The Keeper - This title track is probably the prettiest song on the album, with its heavy doses of the tin whistle lending the tune a haunting quality. The song goes along with The Unicorn in that God entreats humans to protect his creatures, and they fail to do the job. While The Unicorn is a whimsical song that attempts to place unicorns into natural history and then explain their disappearance, The Keeper has much darker, prophetic undertones. It reminds listeners that humans were charged with the care of the rest of creation, and we haven’t been doing a very good job. If we’re not careful, we could wind up with a scenario like this one... “After many years had passed the Lord came back to see the Earth and His creations He’d left so fine and free. ‘But where are all my silver streams, the forests dark and green?’ There was only dust and desert where humankind had been.”
Waltzing with Bears - This is silly old folk song about a guy who gets his jollies from sneaking out at night to waltz with bears. A fun and affectionate song.
Windy Old Weather - Will is joined here by a chorus of children in another rather goofy song in which a variety of sea creatures warn the speaker to turn around and get away from the impending bad weather. “In this windy old weather, stormy old weather, when the wind blows we’ll all pull together.”
Hey li le li le lo - The kids join Will again for a mostly nonsensical song that plays around with the story of Noah’s ark amidst many repetitions of the title. The tune provides a nice transition into the next song, the Rovers’ signature song and a great fit for this album.
The Unicorn - The Rovers’ classic musical adaptation of one of Shel Silverstein’s best-loved poems. The song takes liberties with Noah’s story, inserting the mythical unicorn into the equation as the loveliest of God’s creatures and the one He most wants to protect. It’s a light-hearted tale with a tragic twist; the unicorn are so busy goofing around that they miss the boat, and that’s why we never see them today. “You’ll see green alligators and long-necked geese, some humpty-backed camels and some chimpanzees, some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you’re born, you’re never gonna see no unicorn.”
If We Try - A nice Celtic-flavored song about teamwork and cooperation.
A Place in the Choir - The old Bible School standby. This was always my favorite Bible School song, along with Rise and Shine (“The Arky Arky Song”), which was hilariously revisited by Ned Flanders on The Simpsons and would have fit in perfectly with this album. Given the choice, I would have included it instead of Hey li le li le lo, but that one was good too. At any rate, this is another song about appreciating one another, using the entertaining imagery of a wide variety of animals singing in their own unique way. “All God’s critters got a place in the choir. Some sing low, some sing higher, some sing out loud on the telephone wire...”
Sailing on the Bay - This song reflects Will’s love of the nautical, a subject he explores in depth in his book Messing About in Boats. A nice peaceful song that ends in an environmental message.
Bog Down in the Valley-O - This song is a hoot in concert, and a great one for campfires and other types of singalong occasions. It’s one of those songs that doesn’t really have a point but that builds upon itself, challenging you to both remember all the steps and not run out of breath. By the end of the song, Will’s going so fast he can barely keep up with himself.
Biplane Evermore - I fell in love with this charming little tune when I first heard it on one of the Rovers’ early albums. The song, reminiscent of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, has a gentle lullabye feel to it and encourages children not to give up on their dreams even if those around them discourage them.
Reel in the Flickering Light - A fun song about a strange array of creatures who spend the evening dancing a jolly reel together. A nice song to go off to dreamland with.
All in all, a terrific album. I would particularly recommend it for children, but there are several tracks here that adults would likely enjoy a great deal as well. Will Millar is a fantastic entertainer, and this album is a great manifestation both of his talent and his compassionate sensibilities.
The Keeper, like Millar’s other post-Rovers album A Lark in the Clear Aire, features most of the Rovers, so there doesn’t seem to be any bad blood between them. And, as I said, they performed the title song at their concert. Unfortunately, the album is hard to come by; I ordered it online when he first released it, and I’ve never seen it in the stores. You’d have to do a bit of hunting to find it, but it’s worth the effort. Unlike Lark, this is not a particularly Irish album. Millar has always had a special fondness for children, and that affection comes out in this album for the younger set. As far as I know, only three of the song’s tracks - The Unicorn (the focal point of the album’s fanciful cover), Bog Down in the Valley-O, and Biplane Evermore - appeared on Rovers albums. But many of the tracks have an Irish feel to them thanks to the instruments and the accents of Will and the other vocalists. Just as prominent are the environmentalist and pacifist themes that run through the album.
Just a Little Bitty Ball - This song focuses both on environmental and pacifist concerns. The primary consideration is the preservation of the Earth, but one verse is dedicated to a desire for people to get along and stop hurting one another. A nice way to start off the album.
The Tree Planting Song - This song also incorporates both themes, starting with the idea of planting trees but focusing mostly on making friends and spreading love. The song has a very simple structure and sort of a country feel to it; it’s one of the least Irish-sounding songs on the album but has a great message: “When you give away the gift of love, it comes back sevenfold.”
The Keeper - This title track is probably the prettiest song on the album, with its heavy doses of the tin whistle lending the tune a haunting quality. The song goes along with The Unicorn in that God entreats humans to protect his creatures, and they fail to do the job. While The Unicorn is a whimsical song that attempts to place unicorns into natural history and then explain their disappearance, The Keeper has much darker, prophetic undertones. It reminds listeners that humans were charged with the care of the rest of creation, and we haven’t been doing a very good job. If we’re not careful, we could wind up with a scenario like this one... “After many years had passed the Lord came back to see the Earth and His creations He’d left so fine and free. ‘But where are all my silver streams, the forests dark and green?’ There was only dust and desert where humankind had been.”
Waltzing with Bears - This is silly old folk song about a guy who gets his jollies from sneaking out at night to waltz with bears. A fun and affectionate song.
Windy Old Weather - Will is joined here by a chorus of children in another rather goofy song in which a variety of sea creatures warn the speaker to turn around and get away from the impending bad weather. “In this windy old weather, stormy old weather, when the wind blows we’ll all pull together.”
Hey li le li le lo - The kids join Will again for a mostly nonsensical song that plays around with the story of Noah’s ark amidst many repetitions of the title. The tune provides a nice transition into the next song, the Rovers’ signature song and a great fit for this album.
The Unicorn - The Rovers’ classic musical adaptation of one of Shel Silverstein’s best-loved poems. The song takes liberties with Noah’s story, inserting the mythical unicorn into the equation as the loveliest of God’s creatures and the one He most wants to protect. It’s a light-hearted tale with a tragic twist; the unicorn are so busy goofing around that they miss the boat, and that’s why we never see them today. “You’ll see green alligators and long-necked geese, some humpty-backed camels and some chimpanzees, some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you’re born, you’re never gonna see no unicorn.”
If We Try - A nice Celtic-flavored song about teamwork and cooperation.
A Place in the Choir - The old Bible School standby. This was always my favorite Bible School song, along with Rise and Shine (“The Arky Arky Song”), which was hilariously revisited by Ned Flanders on The Simpsons and would have fit in perfectly with this album. Given the choice, I would have included it instead of Hey li le li le lo, but that one was good too. At any rate, this is another song about appreciating one another, using the entertaining imagery of a wide variety of animals singing in their own unique way. “All God’s critters got a place in the choir. Some sing low, some sing higher, some sing out loud on the telephone wire...”
Sailing on the Bay - This song reflects Will’s love of the nautical, a subject he explores in depth in his book Messing About in Boats. A nice peaceful song that ends in an environmental message.
Bog Down in the Valley-O - This song is a hoot in concert, and a great one for campfires and other types of singalong occasions. It’s one of those songs that doesn’t really have a point but that builds upon itself, challenging you to both remember all the steps and not run out of breath. By the end of the song, Will’s going so fast he can barely keep up with himself.
Biplane Evermore - I fell in love with this charming little tune when I first heard it on one of the Rovers’ early albums. The song, reminiscent of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, has a gentle lullabye feel to it and encourages children not to give up on their dreams even if those around them discourage them.
Reel in the Flickering Light - A fun song about a strange array of creatures who spend the evening dancing a jolly reel together. A nice song to go off to dreamland with.
All in all, a terrific album. I would particularly recommend it for children, but there are several tracks here that adults would likely enjoy a great deal as well. Will Millar is a fantastic entertainer, and this album is a great manifestation both of his talent and his compassionate sensibilities.
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