On Your Feet (The Emilio & Gloria Estefan Broadway Musical) – Cadillac Palace Theater – April 7, 2018

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The one time I don’t sit on the aisle at a play, the cast comes dancing down both middle aisles right before intermission, interacting with the audience, even inviting a few of the patrons sitting on the aisles to stand up and join in the fun. Thus I miss my chance to make a complete fool of myself in front of hundreds of people.  Darn.

The audience was ready to party from the start of the show, including the six young women who sat in the row in front of us, exuding excitement. As they funneled in, Cindy said they looked as if they were sisters. Good call. They turned out to be four sisters and two sisters-in-law, which caused Cindy to make some reference to the Duggar family, apparently a reality tv show family with 19 children, of which I was unaware, and so I kept asking Cindy to repeat what she was saying, thinking that she was saying Donner family and wondering why she was comparing this innocent looking group of young ladies, out to have a good time, to a group of cannibals.

Until we cleared up that confusion at intermission, I kept my eyes on the ladies, just in case. Also, at intermission, half the audience pulled out their smart phones and started searching online for information on Gloria Estefan’s mother, who, we were told in the show, had been offered, but had declined, prior to her daughter’s birth, the chance to leave Cuba to go to Hollywood to dub Shirley Temple’s singing voice in Spanish.

I was just as interested in the actress playing the mother, whose name looked familiar. Looking at her credits in the program, I probably have seen her before, but I think the reason her name looked familiar is, I discovered, that she is the sister of the woman who played Melina in Total Recall. So, close but no cigar, Cuban or otherwise.

Adult Seminars (Classics of Comedy and Wonderful Town II) – Newberry Library

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As Justice Potter Stewart might have said, I may not be able to define comedy, but I know it when I see it (or hear it, or read it). And I’m quite certain I know what is meant by a classic. So I was somewhat taken aback when the instructor for the Newberry winter seminar on Classics of Comedy picked as our first reading a short story no one in the class had heard of, by an author none of us (or the internet based on my search) had heard of, and that wasn’t funny, except to the instructor.

So it didn’t come as a shock when the instructor informed us that the author was a friend of his who, the instructor (and presumably the friend/author) believed, hadn’t received the recognition he deserved. Now that’s classic, but not why I enrolled in the seminar. So I left during the break of the first class to claim a refund of the registration fee. I imagine the instructor didn’t think that was funny, but I did.

I also enrolled in a Newberry winter seminar called Wonderful Town II, about music from New York in the 30s, 40s, and 50s. What a difference. The instructor, Guy Marco, has an encyclopedic knowledge of the music of those years (which he experienced first hand, as he is 90 years old), from Broadway to classical to pop to opera. When I asked him how many rooms his music took up at home, he answered “all of them.”

He even made the mercifully short operatic selections tolerable (which is saying a lot coming from me) with his detailed and humorous analyses, such as his observation in one instance that there was no way to determine from the story line why a particular character had died. And he signed off the last class doing his best Benny Hill impression. His dry wit led me to think that he also should have taught the Classics of Comedy seminar.

Hee-Young Lim (cello) and Kuang-Hao Huang (Piano) – Chicago Cultural Center – April 4, 2018

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For the first time at any of the Dame Myra Hess Memorial Concerts I have attended, some people, despite the caution in the printed program, applauded between movements, in this case after the second movement of Shostakovich’s Sonata for Cello and Piano in D Minor. I can’t say I blame them for their enthusiasm.

The allegro movement featured a rousing section of head bobbing and resulting hair tossing by Lim as she poured all her considerable talent and energy into rapid bowing and fingering in a section of the music accurately described in the program as “churning cello accompaniment.” I think Lim may have been getting as good a workout as I did in this morning’s Pilates class.

As I read the program description, it reminded me of a wine review. Compare “aromas of rich dark currants, nectarine skins, and gushing blackberry, but lots of fragrant tobacco, rich soil, white flowers, and smashed minerals; medium-bodied and saucy but racy acidity that stabilizes the wine nicely with the robust tannins” with “after a repeated note codetta, the exposition is repeated; then the development section commences with an impulsive discussion of the first theme, ominously underpinned by the repeated-note idea in the piano.”

The program also noted that the piece by Offenbach was dedicated to Arsène Houssaye, like I would know who that is. (He turns out to be a French novelist, poet and man of letters, which I believe my blog now makes me.)

After watching Lim and Huang walk off stage and back on between selections, I finally got around to searching for a satisfying answer as to why classical musicians do this. I found a good discussion on violinist.com.

The best answer for me was that you don’t want to be onstage when people stop clapping. So, musicians finish, bow, acknowledge the audience, and exit gracefully, which gives the audience a chance to stop clapping without being rude. One other possible explanation related to the Weak Bladder Marathon Highlights.

Jasmine Lin and Joseph Genualdi (violins), Paula Kosower (cello) and Bradley Opland (double bass) – Chicago Cultural Center – April 2, 2018

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There’s a long tradition of classical musicians wearing black (see http://www.classicfm.com/discover-music/musicians-black-concert-dress/), so I’m used to seeing all the members of an orchestra, or string quartet, dressed in black (as they were today), but I started thinking more about it when Opland entered for the second half of the program, wearing not only a black suit, but also a black hat, which together made him look like he’d just come from a gig with the Blues Brothers.

Though I like the suggestion that wearing black reduces the need to clean the clothes, I also like that idea that black clothes limit the amount of distraction, but not for the obvious reason. I think it should be done out of consideration for anyone in the audience who has chromesthesia, and thus perceives colors from sound (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chromesthesia). If the musicians are dressed in other than black, the chromesthesiac (?) may see colors based upon the music that clash with the color of the clothes.

Continuing the “what are they wearing” theme, I noticed that none of the musicians had on wedding bands. That got me to wondering again about custom, which led me to a web page that includes a conversation among violinists about wearing or not wearing rings while playing their instruments (http://www.violinist.com/discussion/archive/13515/).

The music itself was beautiful, my favorite part being when Opland, who plays with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, was given a bass solo during the allegro movement of Rossini’s Sonata #6. He extensively tapped the instrument, and though he was clearly improvising some of it (not your typical classical program), it led me to wonder about notation for tapping, which led me to a user’s manual for the orchestra, which, unlike most user’s manuals, is reasonably intelligible (see second item down on http://andrewhugill.com/manuals/bass/extended.html – be sure to watch the video).

Near the end of his solo, Opland permitted Lin, after some back and forth playfulness, to pluck one of his strings (not a metaphor). I’m relatively certain that there’s no notation for that.

The Nerdologues Presents: Your Stories: Cast Away Edition – American Writers Museum – March 30, 2018

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We missed some of the Nerdologues program out of fair-weather fan loyalty to the Loyola basketball team, watching the entirety of their defeat at the hands of Michigan. I didn’t mind showing up late, as the Nerdologues program was scheduled to last three hours, which seems like too much of anything, except Lawrence of Arabia, which flawlessly clocks in at 3 hours and 48 minutes. (How did Peter O’Toole not win the Best Actor Oscar?)

We got to the program at intermission, which was perfect timing. It gave us a chance to have a conversation with Kevin Turk, one of the founders of International Tom Hanks Day (ITHD), which was being celebrated by the Nerdologues in this special edition of their weekly podcasts.

Kevin gave us the history of ITHD, how it started as a college keggger, an excuse to drink and watch movies all night. Four years in, Hanks found out about it and the rest is history, as the event has turned into an annual charity fundraiser. The night’s raffle prize was a DVD of Saving Mr. Banks, which the Nerdologues made fun of, but I admit I liked, which must put me on the extreme edge of nerdom.

Attendance was sparse, probably due to the mystical convergence of Holy Saturday, Passover, and the Final Four. Instead of hearing serious stories handed down from generation to generation for thousands of years (or in the Loyola Ramblers’ case, 55 years), we heard four storytellers, three of whom were very funny as they related first-hand experiences of ramblin’ man road trips and raunchy parties (the fourth merely rambled on incoherently).

We also heard a few songs, including one that included a nice Roy Orbison impression, and one that featured someone playing a melodica, a wind-powered portable keyboard instrument that looked like a tricked-up hookah (see picture).

Nell Scovell – Chicago Ideas – March 28, 2018

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Even with her marital tie to the movie industry (in case you’ve been living in a cave the last five years, her husband is George Lucas), well-known president of Ariel Investments Mellody Hobson, who described herself as a geek in designer clothes, seemed like an odd choice to interview comedy writer Nell Scovell until Hobson informed the audience that the two of them were close friends who spend a lot of time together.

They got to know each other when Sheryl Sandberg asked Hobson to write a chapter on race and owning who you are for Lean In for Graduates. Scovell had cowritten Lean In with Sandberg, who asked her to work with Hobson on her chapter in the second book.

As Hobson tells it, upon submitting her chapter, Scovell called to tell her that she and Sandberg had two things in common, they were both really smart and they both were terrible writers. This made me wonder whether Scovell might have ghostwritten Sandberg’s forward to Scovell’s book Just the Funny Parts: … And a Few Hard Truths About Sneaking into the Hollywood Boys’ Club.

The book, as the title indicates, is about more than the funny parts. Scovell has long been a behind-the-scenes talent, well-known in the industry for her comedy writing for many television shows. She even has worked with Barack Obama, for whom, Hobson emphasized, Scovell wrote for White House Correspondents’ Dinners, not a State of the Union Address.

But Scovell made a public name for herself when she wrote a 2009 Vanity Fair essay, “Letterman and Me,” (https://www.vanityfair.com/style/2009/10/david-letterman-200910) that discussed issues relating to the employment and treatment of women in the late-night talk show arena.

Like the book, the interview covered both the funny and the serious. Her discussion of humor ranged as far as quoting the opening line of the novel Scaramouche – “He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.” Scaramouche, a buffoon character in the commedia dell’arte, is, of course, not to be confused with Anthony Scaramucci, who was White House Communications Director for 10 days.

Plantation! – Lookingglass Theater – March 25, 2018

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The Lookingglass Theater has accurately promoted Plantation! as being FUN-comfortable. The audience laughed a lot, even while occasionally squirming in their seats at the subject matter, though the squirming at the end of the play (spoiler alert) was more in response to the need for something, anything, to happen on stage.

In honor of Plantation! director David Schwimmer, the young girl sitting next to me was wearing a Friends t-shirt. Schwimmer was in attendance, hiding in plain sight with a baseball cap pulled down to partially conceal that part of his face that wasn’t covered by two weeks of neatly trimmed beard.

Based on past experience, I probably wouldn’t have spotted Schwimmer, even without the cap and beard, if not alerted by the girl sitting next to me’s father (I once failed to recognize a sports and television celebrity sitting naked next to me on a health club locker room bench, or so I was later told).

Other than me, I think everyone noticed Schwimmer right away as he made his way to the back of the house to watch the play, but I sensed from his appearance that he wanted you to pretend not to recognize him (ergo pseudo incognito), at least until after the show, when I saw him shaking hands with patrons. (David, if you’re reading this, please tell the author that I have a better idea for the ending of the play.)

I love the flexibility of the Lookingglass Theater space. It’s a chameleon, constantly changing the dimensions and positioning of the stage and modifying the seating arrangement, never appearing the same way twice. On other occasions I’ve ridden on the Pequod, sat on both sides of Alice’s lookingglass, and been in the middle of the Chicago fire. If the space were sitting naked next to me on a locker room bench, I probably wouldn’t recognize it.

Rachel Lee Priday (violin) and David Kaplan (piano) – Chicago Cultural Center – March 21, 2018

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As promoted (and mentioned in last week’s blog), this concert was streamed live on Facebook, in furtherance of which cameras were positioned around the room, but no camera operators, not even robotic ones as has been the trend in television for some time (see https://www.thebroadcastbridge.com/content/entry/823/cost-cutting-boosts-the-use-of-robots-in-television-studios).

This wasn’t a basketball game, where the camera has to follow the action. Here there was static action. Okay, that’s a contradiction (though I like the way it sounds). I mean the musicians didn’t run or jump around the room, but their fingers, hands, and arms moved, and quite skillfully I might add, magically creating music were there had been none (only notes on paper), as beautiful as a three on two fast break ending in a thunderous dunk or a last second Hail Mary (or in Loyola’s case, hail 98-year-old Sister Jean Dolores-Schmidt) shot that drives another nail into my March Madness bracket coffin.

This week I went back to sitting on stage left, concerned that last week’s sheet music incident (see blog on Patrycja Likos and Yana Reznik) may somehow have been my fault, caused by my having sat stage right for a change. Moving back was the first step in my attempt to apply the scientific method to determine causation.

The Dame Myra Hess Memorial Concerts are produced by the International Music Foundation. Following the concert, I introduced myself to the foundation’s Executive Director, who, I assume, in the spirit of P.T. Barnum (there’s no such thing as bad publicity) and Oscar Wilde (the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about) welcomed the idea of my continuing to blog about the concerts, which is what I do. So here I am.

Martin Amis – American Writers Museum -March 20, 2018

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Martin Amis, a British novelist and essayist, was introduced as being qualified to speak at the American Writers Museum by virtue of his having lived in Brooklyn the last seven years. The room was full. I don’t think anyone cared where he lived.

He opened by telling us that Brits don’t go to listen to authors, that if your brother had just written a number one bestseller and was next door talking about it, you wouldn’t go. Perhaps that’s why Amis moved to Brooklyn.

He then read from his latest book, The Rub of Time, a collection of past pieces. The headline from The Guardian review of the book said it’s “brilliant, except when it’s not.” That’s the way I felt about Amis. His choice of passages to read was odd, given that a lot of what he read consisted not of his own writing, but of quotes from Donald Trump. That would be like Tina Fey simply reciting a Sarah Palin speech. Oh, wait.

Amis extolled the virtues of Melville’s Billy Budd, which caused a man behind me to suggest that there should have been a spoiler alert before Amis revealed the book’s ending. Given that the book was published in 1924, it made me wonder what the statute of limitations is on spoiler alerts.

A man in front of me asked a question that led Amis to suggest that a certain man in the news didn’t have sex with a certain woman, but rather engaged in some behavior in her presence not seen twice in human history. My imagination was at a loss, but I laughed anyway.

Amis’s favorite authors are Bellow and Nabokov, though Amis suggested that Nabokov wrote four too many novels involving 12-year-old girls (out of the seven such novels he wrote). Seven! It seems like one should have been enough. (I remember walking into a college interview with a copy of Lolita in hand to read while in the waiting room. Nothing like making a good first impression.)

Louder Than a Mom – Martyr’s – March 19, 2018

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I went to see my former storytelling teacher (see my January blog about the class) tell a story, proving beautifully, at least in her case, that those who teach, also can do. Martyr’s is the fourth different venue I have been to for storytelling. Four down, a hundred zillion to go.

The quality of the storytelling was high and the humor was rampant. Not knowing how crowded it would be, my friends and I got there two hours before showtime. No one else showed up for another hour. This allowed us to get the full attention of the waitress and acclimate ourselves to the almost complete lack of lighting in the venue. It’s not a good place to go if you have cataracts. Our smart phone flashlights really came in handy for reading the limited menu.

Next time I’ll eat somewhere else first. They didn’t even have mustard, though at least, unlike the restaurant the night before, they weren’t out of chicken. We all agreed that ketchup on chicken was a nonstarter, although the waitress said she has witnessed it. Perhaps she can get counseling for that trauma.

My former teacher, MT, introduced us to one of the hosts of the event, Kate, who encouraged us to tell a story at a future event. Though one of my friends and I were two of perhaps six men, one of whom was the bartender, at this well-attended event, Kate assured us that we would be welcome additions and that you don’t need to be a mom to participate. In fact, one of the eight speakers that night was a man, though his story was about the birth of his child, so, you know, kind of a mom story. Actually, he gets a pass on that as his story was about how ugly newborns are. (If you need a refresher on the Seinfeld episode, the Hamptons, about a “breathtaking” baby, you can find the script at http://www.seinfeldscripts.com/TheHamptons.htm).