How not to Rewrite Brecht

I'm going to keep this short because I don't like writing bad reviews.  But there are times when one must come out and say the painful truth: Clive, by Jonathan Marc Sherman is not worth seeing.  Unless you have a crush on Ethan Hawke or Zoe Kazan.  But even then, I really wouldn't.

This is how the play is described on the Acorn Theatre Website:

Inspired by Bertolt Brecht's inflammatory play Baal, Clive tracks a dissipated songwriter in 1990s New York City from the hedonistic heights of seduction and consumption into an ecstasy of self-destruction.

If that description leaves you thinking "WTF," the play itself will not enlighten you.  From the first moment, when Hawke sings a mumbling piano-bar version of "You Must Come in at the Door,"  the play is self-consciously lyrical, trite, and melodramatic. 

I'm not saying that every play has to have a traditional character arch or even a coherent story-line.  I'm fascinated by the avant-garde.... when it's good.  This was more like a play that sort of pretended to be cutting-edge, but in an emo sort of way.  Clive came across as an angsty rapist who its hard to feel sympathy for, because he really doesn't have a positive side.  The female characters are shallow and for some reason easily seduced by Hawke's winy pubescent take on rock-star.  I was in no way convinced that a 17 year old virgin would find this man fascinating enough to sleep with, or that she would kill herself after he rejected her.  Sorry.  Just no dice.

Also, I'm a bit confused on what the interpretation of Brecht is in this play.  In on very telling line, Clive "philosophizes" : "Art is meant to be felt, not understood."  Brecht is turning over in his grave.  This is exactly the opposite of what this politically-minded playwright stood for.  His plays often interrupt the flow of action right at critical moments so that characters might directly tell the audience what they ought to think or do as a result of what they see.  Brecht hoped to stop the action in order to limit the amount of emotional investment that audience took in the story, in favor of the message.  So, either Sherman didn't understand Brecht, or he thought he knew better than Brecht.  He didn't.

Happy New Year!

Better Late than Never.  I realize February is almost over... but anytime is a good time to blog about New Years Eve in NYC.  So for those of you who want to know: Here's how I spent the night of December 31st.
New Years Eve in New York City is a celebration of the city itself.  Sure, another year has passed, and sure, we're a bit older, but it's really a chance for Manhattan to strut her stuff.  And there's a lot to show off.  Yes, we're all familiar with the yearly Times Square bash, but this really only begins to scratch the surface of what is going on in the city on this night to end all nights.  I was fortunate over New Years Eve to have my family come to visit, but they, of course, wanted to stay on the square and watch the ball drop.  From what I know, though, there are several practical reasons to opt out of Times Square.
1) No bathrooms.  You have to get there early that morning if you want any type of view.  And there are no...erm... provisions made for bodily functions.  So bear this in mind when making your plans.
2) No drinks.  You can't drink in the streets in New York, and while I'm sure that rule isn't particularly enforced, good luck bringing enough libations to last you throughout the day.  Also, see #1.
3)  No choice of music.  I mean, if you really love Taylor Swift, this year would be wonderful for you.  If not, I'm not sure.  Just not sure.

So what did I do on my first NYE in NYC?  Joe and I opted to dance the night away at historic Webster Hall in the Village.  Webster Hall boasts itself the oldest nightclub in the United States.  It was a favorite stomping ground for iconic figures from Frank Sinatra to Ray Charles to Jefferson Airplane.  The club is situated in what feels like an aging mansion in Greenwich village.  The building was recently restored, but all of the old charm was preserved.  We may have been listening to techno, but one could easily imagine a jazz band lighting up the stage.  There are two main dance halls, one that played mostly pop music and one that leaned towards electric music.  Joe and I mostly stayed in the pop area, but we braved the massive, two-story techno room for the fabled midnight balloon drop.  Forget the ball drop.  This was the single most exciting New Years countdown I have ever experienced.  Never mind that I was a little nervous I was going to get trampled in the mosh-life mob beforehand.  Once the balloons feel from he ceiling I literally felt there was a layer of balloons above me, covering a layer of wildly dancing young people. Swimming through balloons while dancing in the New Year is a memory I will never forget. It was beyond exhilarating. Too bad I lost my feather hat. :-(

Here are the cons of Webster Hall New Years:
1) It took a long time to get drinks.
2) Way too much dub step for those of us who don't do drugs.
3) Douchy people. Like the guy who called my boyfriend a rather choice name when he was simply trying to keep me from being trampled.

Here are the pros:
1) Unlimited drinks, which were quite strong, once you got them.
2) Lots of people and dancing.
3) Pizza for sale
4). Free party favors.
5.) A no-cover membership card for the entire year of 2013.  (Which Joe and I will absolutely use.)
6.) Breakfast if you make it late enough.

So, as you can see, its really no contest.  Next year, though, I'm sure we won't be there.  We'll be somewhere else awesome.  I love this city.