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.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
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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