David Mamet – Chicago Humanities Festival (CHF) – March 1, 2018

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Mamet appeared before a sold-out crowd as part of the book tour for his new novel, Chicago, which, thankfully, was less than half the size of the tome, Leonardo da Vinci, that I had to lug home and attempt to wade through after seeing Walter Isaacson speak at a CHF based-on-a-book program last October.

Mamet was erudite and funny. I preferred the funny part, like when he quoted Mel Brooks. When he was quoting Archimedes, Aristotle, or Shakespeare, or rambling (the kind of rambling where no one remembers the question) on about the relationship between theater and religion, I was less interested. If some University of Chicago professor wants to delve into that at another program, go for it, but I won’t be there.

The interviewer, Chicago Tribune critic Chris Jones, spent most of the hour appearing star-struck. He said he had already read Mamet’s book three or four times, and read aloud a passage from it, apparently for the purpose of informing the audience that he didn’t understand several of the words (Chris, if you’re reading this, here is the url for the online Merriam-Webster dictionary – https://www.merriam-webster.com), a sycophantic move that said more about Jones than it did about Mamet.

The highlight of the hour for me was Mamet saying that his favorite writers were Ben Hecht and Charles McArthur. My mother used to tell me that my brother and I were named after Charles McArthur, which, early on, I unfortunately, traumatically, mistakenly heard as Charlie McCarthy, one of Edgar Bergen’s dummies. She also used to tell me that she and my father found me after I fell out of the crab apple tree in the backyard, at which point they exclaimed “Eureka!” (I made up that last part to show that I also could quote Archimedes), so who knows.

We Three: Loud Her. Fast Her. Funny Her. – Steppenwolf Theater – February 27, 2018

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We Three is a tall, talented, and talkative trio. When Meghan Murphy, Danni Smith, and Cassie Slater are on stage, singing and having fun, it’s hard not to have fun with them, so everyone in the audience just smiled, hooted, and laughed along.

The show started a half hour late due to what was described as a wardrobe malfunction, which turned out to be Meghan (aka Big Red – see my blog on Big Red and the Boys) having forgotten to bring her performance dress with her from home. Really? What else did she need to remember?

A couple sitting in front of us came to see the show because they wanted more of Meghan (she’s everywhere, but fortunately she manages to remember her lyrics, if not her clothes), whom they had just seen as Fräulein Kostin in Cabaret (in a show getting rave reviews) in Aurora (Aurora!) at the Paramount Theater (Aurora!), one of the great old theaters, built in 1931, and on the National Register of Historic Places (but Aurora!). I’ve been to Aurora, but for something really important – golf. It’s far and it’s Aurora!

There’s no drink service in the room (the 1700 Theater, an intimate 80-seat cabaret-type space), which seems odd. One has to go to the adjoining room, the cleverly-named Front Bar. I thought I might miss the start of the show (before hearing about the delay) because the bartender apparently wasn’t in class the day they taught how to open a bottle of wine. I almost impatiently jumped over the bar to help, but then remembered that I can’t jump.

Eight other people in attendance came, directly or indirectly, based upon on my prior blog about Meghan. So, after 27 frustrating years working for a very not-for-profit association, I finally feel like I’m providing a public service. My blog is reaching people numbering into the teens.

White Pines Golf Dome – Ongoing

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The background music at the White Pines Golf Dome is sixties rock. Fortunately, the rhythm of the songs they play suits my swing. Way back when, I loved running to the rhythm of certain songs. My personal favorite was the Spinners’ 1980 version of Working My Way Back to You (with no offense to the original Four Seasons version). Now, if only I could master rhythm on the piano. I play the piano as if I were doing interval training on the track, frequently (though unintentionally, as opposed to when running) changing the beat, regardless of how the music is actually written – let’s call it unintentional improvisation, a new kind of jazz.

The Dome opens at 7:00 am. No matter how early I get there, the caffeinated coffee urn is empty. Maybe there’s never any, even if you get there at 7:00 sharp, which I guess doesn’t really matter to me because I don’t like coffee. I drink it for the vanilla creamer. I keep vanilla extract in my kitchen cabinet, with no idea of what I’m going to do with it (I don’t bake), but reassured by it just being there. It has been suggested to me that I sniff it on days when I need a lift. Sure, why not, it’s probably not a gateway drug – I’ve never heard of flavors anonymous.

As for golf, I’m currently working on only seven swing thoughts, which is pretty good for me, and which I should be able to handle, based upon Miller’s Law. Miller’s Law refers to the oft-cited article, “The Magical Number Seven, Plus or Minus Two: Some Limits on Our Capacity for Processing Information”, published in 1956 in Psychological Review by the Princeton University cognitive psychologist George A. Miller. I try not to think about the article itself while swinging – that would be an eighth thing to remember, and would throw everything off.

Merrily We Roll Along – Porchlight Theater – February 24, 2018

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Though I have enjoyed many Porchlight shows, I skipped the recent production of Billy Elliot. Having seen the Broadway in Chicago production in 2010, I wasn’t interested in seeing another version of this cross between Rocky (if he were an 11-year-old who quit boxing to become a dancer despite his father’s fear that people would think he was gay) and The Full Monty (if the men were 11-year-olds who kept their clothes on but wore cod pieces).

I was happy, however, to see Merrily We Roll Along (though now I can’t get the tune to Old Friends out of my head). While not near the top of Sondheim hit shows, the current version (revised in 1994) is said to be far superior to the original 1981 Broadway production, a flop that had 52 previews, but only 16 performances, which isn’t even close to a record. The 1965 musical, Kelly, closed after one performance (which made me think of The Producers, though I’m not suggesting any financial irregularities).

Speaking of financial irregularities (and remember I wasn’t), at dinner after the show (at Hash House a Go Go), the conversation turned to the FBI report on the latest NCAA basketball recruiting scandal, and in particular to the Wichita State University Shockers. This led Cindy, a former Kansas resident, to inform me that the team’s mascot is a shock of wheat named WuShock. As I have never lived on a farm (though I could smell some from my dorm room in Urbana), Cindy also explained to me what a shock of wheat is, which led me to think of Groot in Guardians of the Galaxy (technically an extraterrestial, sentient, tree-like creature), and led the restaurant manager to tell me that, in nice weather, when they have the sliding windows open, birds fly in to peck at the shocks of wheat on display in the restaurant. As far as I know, this is not a recruiting violation (though the NCAA rules are rather arcane), and the birds maintain their eligibility, which is more than I can say for current high-profile college players implicated in the recruiting scandal, some of whom, like Kelly, may soon be one and done.

Narek Hakhnazaryan (cello) and Noreen Cassidy-Polera (piano) – Chicago Cultural Center – February 21, 2018

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Narek and Noreen beautifully played several selections, including one by Robert Schumann, who, according to the program, lived to be 146 years old (1810-1956). Although I know that listening to music is said to provide numerous health benefits, I was pretty sure that his date of death was a typo (it should have been 1856).

Of the Dame Myra Hess concerts I have attended, this was the first time a pianist had a page-turner. (I guess the previous musicians had better memories.) I noted that the page-turner sat on the pianist’s left (upstage, not blocking the audience’s view) and used his left hand, crossing over his body, to accomplish his task. For those looking for a “nerve-wracking” way to see concerts for free, I recommend reading a blog about the fine art of page-turning, which says that the left hand should be used (why?), but shows a picture of someone using her right hand (if I know my left from my right).

Narrow and Noreen (but not the unknown, uncredited, unappreciated(?) page-turner) briefly left the stage after each of the first two pieces. Is this to milk more applause? Or stretch legs? Or clear heads? Or make sure flies aren’t open? (see my blog on Franklinland)

As the music proceeded, I gazed around the room and made note of the famous names carved into the ceiling arches, which included Shakspere (sic – spell check fought me on this one). According to Wikipedia, “(I)n the Romantic and Victorian eras the spelling “Shakspere”, as used in the poet’s own signature, became more widely adopted in the belief that this was the most authentic version.” So why did it get changed after that? Four hundred years from now will historians change the spelling of my name? (This assumes that someday I will be known as the Bard of Blog.)

Franklinland – Jackalope Theater (Broadway Armory Park Fieldhouse) – February 17, 2018

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Dinner first at Mas alla del Sol. Blood orange margaritas. Camarones con verdolagas. Chocolate lava cake. All yummy.

Then the potentially life-altering decision. Go to the bathroom at the restaurant or wait to go at the theater. As fate would have it, I chose the restaurant. Stories like this, as in the Gwyneth Paltrow movie Sliding Doors, portray how little things can lead to different consequences and life paths (or, as in the movie, parallel universes, but I’ll save the multiverse discussion for another time). My decision’s effects weren’t that dramatic (I don’t think, but how would I know – if I had waited, would Gwyneth somehow have entered my life – and what chaos might that have caused?).

In any event, as I’m departing a bathroom stall I come face to face with an old friend I hadn’t seen in decades. We say hello and I prudently suggest that he might not want to shake hands with me at that moment. We hold a catch-up conversation while I wash up and he goes about his business (all the while, Gwyneth may have been standing on the street outside the restaurant).

At the armory we are led to the elevator to expedite our trek to the theater itself (see earlier blog on the march required the first two times at this theater). At the theater I run into another old friend – I don’t think I know that many people, but they do seem to show up everywhere. That said, I might not have run into him either if Gwyneth and I, upon meeting on the street, had elected to skip the play.

The play appears to be historically accurate. The two most memorable moments are Franklin’s son appearing to throw up on stage (acting) and Franklin’s grandson appearing on stage with his fly open (not acting). He must have elected to go the bathroom at the theater.

Jasmin Arakawa – Chicago Cultural Center – February 14, 2018

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In case you haven’t noticed, each time I go to one of the Dame Myra Hess Memorial Concerts I try to focus on something different, in addition to the music. This week, I’d like to report that Preston Bradley Hall was adorned with Mardi Gras decorations, but, alas, it was not.

I was sitting stage left. The piano is always set up so that the pianist is facing that direction, something I hadn’t thought about before (I must have been preoccupied with world peace or quantum theory), but which makes obvious sense (doh) given the construction of a grand piano (not really an issue with my digital keyboard).

With that weight lifted from my mind, I reflected on the advantages of sitting stage left. Sure, I couldn’t see Ms. Arakawa’s hands move rapidly and flawlessly across the keys, but, because so many others wanted that experience, I had a greater choice of seats on my side, was able to sit on an aisle, with no one next to me, and, in the middle of this horrible flu season, had fewer people around me coughing (I didn’t bring a flu mask, though I spotted someone else wearing one).

When Ms. Arakawa walked out at the beginning of the concert, she just sat down and started playing. Pianists, unlike musicians playing other instruments, don’t fiddle on stage with strings (that would be amusing – I wonder if Victor Borge ever did it) or wait for someone with an oboe in the audience to give them an A (I looked, but didn’t spot one).

She played some Liszt, Haydn and a couple other dead guys I never heard of before (Mompou and Francaix). Francaix was quoted in the program as having quoted French writer Nicolas Chamfort in saying: “When on the stage, if you are a little of a charlatan, the crowd will lapidate you.” I’m happy to report that Ms. Arakawa was not lapidated at any time during her performance.

Women in Jeopardy – First Folio Theater – February 10, 2018

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“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” Or not, as there was no mail delivery at my building on Saturday, probably because of the seven inches of snow that fell Thursday night into Friday afternoon. Undaunted by the USPS’s shortcomings, I  didn’t let the snow stop me from driving to Oak Brook to see Women in Jeopardy at the First Folio Theater.

We left early and detoured slightly to head to Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen before the matinee for a drink and perhaps some gumbo or fried alligator (tastes like chicken – if chicken were made of leather). But, at 3:00 in the afternoon, it was jammed and we couldn’t even get a seat at the bar. Beads everywhere, Mardi Gras crowd getting started early.

So, with no food or drink to be had (fortunately we brought our own chocolate), we got to the theater early. I immediately ran into and caught up with an old friend, who was ushering for our performance as a member of the Saints (the volunteer arts organization unrelated to New Orleans and the aforementioned Mardi Gras).

They played the familiar theme from Jeopardy as a lead in to the play, but the show was about women in jeopardy (though a comedy), not women on Jeopardy (darn). Just as in the last play I saw at First Folio (Silent Sky), this production used their ceiling of stars (celestial, not theatrical) as part of the scenery, this time in a camping scene. It reminds me of the ceiling at the Aragon Ballroom (though not nearly as spectacular), which reminds me of the last concert I saw there, Chuck Berry in 1972, when he duck walked and played a very extended version of the lyrically sophisticated My Ding-A-Ling, his cover version of which incredibly was his one number one hit.

Akropolis Reed Quintet – Chicago Cultural Center – Feb. 7, 2018

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I’m of the generation of men whose parents told them to tuck their shirts into their pants. A bass clarinet makes me think of someone who doesn’t. It seems to hang too long and not neatly tucked in like a soprano clarinet. In any event, both types of clarinets, an oboe, a bassoon, and a saxophone comprise the five instruments played by the members of the Akropolis Reed Quintet at this week’s Dame Myra Hess Memorial Concert at the Chicago Cultural Center.

After the first selection, I watched as the musicians dried the insides of their instruments by pulling swabs through the bores. It reminded me of a magician apparently pulling streams of cloth out of his mouth, only these swabs were black and one-piece, not multicolored and knotted together. Also, the musicians didn’t say “tada” when they were done, though they may have been thinking it as they finished with a flourish. Fortunately for the audience, the musicians were deft not only at drying their instruments, but also at playing them. I played the trumpet briefly and badly as a preteen. I now wonder if the problem was that I just wasn’t good enough at emptying out the spit valve. Yes, that must have been it.

The musical highlight of the concert was the group’s rendition of An American in Paris. Although I loved the music, it reminded me of how much I didn’t like the play when I saw it last year. Also, I wondered whether a French composer had ever written about being in America? Well, it turns out that the French composer Darius Milhaud was commissioned by Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops Orchestra in the 1960s to write a companion piece for An American in Paris, and thus composed A Frenchman in New York. See, it wasn’t such a stupid question.

 

Trivia Nights – Ongoing

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I competed in intramural trivia contests when I was in college and law school, and was on the team representing the University of Illinois in what was billed as the first National Collegiate Invitational Trivia Tournament (or something like that). In those days I studied the almanac. There was no internet or social media. Countries weren’t changing their names every ten minutes. There weren’t 1780 television channels. No Star Wars characters to learn. No Harry Potter to study.

For the last four months or so my friend Bill and I have been going to a weekly trivia night (Brain Sportz) at a local establishment. Based on the results of our first excursion into this highly-competitive underworld, we named our team Dead Last, which, I’m proud to say, has turned into a misnomer, mostly.

Bill and I know almost nothing anything about music (who the hell is Richard Cheese?) or pop culture (I’ve never watched the Simpsons) from the last 30 years. But, and this is important, I’m a really good guesser.  It’s a skill that helped me get good scores on standardized tests in my youth, which in turn got me into school so that I could enter collegiate trivia contests (unfortunately there was no major offered in trivia – law was as close as I could get).

These days we usually finish third, typically out of five or more teams. We’ve risen to second a couple times and miraculously finished first once! The categories that night were in our sweet spot – old stuff.

A couple of the other teams have six members, Millennials all. With two players (we’ve lately expanded to three), each of you must be a jack-of-all-trivia, whereas with six players you can specialize. I asked one of the other teams about this, and was told that one of their members specialized in Andy Samberg movies. Who? What? We are in desperate need of Millennials on our team.