Took my tai chi class during my lunchtime (thanks for offering it, JPL!) and yes, I feel better. I had a feeling I would, as I took tai chi almost fifteen years ago through UCLA Extension and loved it. I’m not as peaceful this time around as I was the last time, but the last time I wasn’t going through a bunch of crap, so that’s not too surprising.
My class is Mondays and Wednesdays until February 13th, so twice a week for the next five weeks is sure to help out. And I think I’m going to put myself on standby for JPL’s Dynamic Strength Training class (Tuesdays and Thursdays) so maybe I can get back on track as far as fitness goes.
Haven’t done one of these in a very long time. Let’s change the format slightly:
While I watch a fair bit of TV, and even like some of it, there’s only one series currently on air for which I have an unbelievable amount of love: Scrubs. It’s crazy, loopy, corny and humanistic all at the same time and, even when it’s not very good, it’s one of the best shows out there.
It’s also got some great songs woven throughout the series, one of which is above. Scrubs has got to be commended for bringing Colin Hay back into the American limelight. Granted, in his Men at Work days, I liked his work well enough, but didn’t think much about it. However, Hay’s acoustic renditions of Beautiful World and Overkill are fantastic. I can hum/sing Overkill for days on end. And I have.
However, Beautiful World hits me in an unexpected place. The first time I listened to the lyrics I teared up, thinking about how sad it was that the protagonist of the song was merely settling for less:
And still this emptiness persists.
Perhaps this is as good as it gets.
That used to kill me.
But not now.
Somewhere over the last few weeks I listened to Beautiful World and thought, “Maybe he’s not settling for less. Maybe he’s just finding the joy in the little things.” And I brightened up a little.
Because sometimes the little things? Are the only places a person can find joy.
Silly sweet TV shows. Beloved music. Frightfully gorgeous musical movies. Stunning sunsets and landscapes. Staring out over the rolling ocean waves. Stroking and scratching kitties and puppies. Cuddling. Laughter.
The big things? Can disappear in an instant. Break a person’s heart. Make a body wonder why and where and when. Can come close to destroying someone who never saw it coming.
But the little things? They’re nearly always constant. They can usually be found even in the worst of times, if only for brief moments. Even after nights that are straight outta Overkill – nights where the thoughts and fears over the big things are so overwhelming that one is literally immobilized, uncertainties turning into terrors, the sneaking suspicion that one’s mind is just broken and why won’t it shut up, shut up, SHUT UP and let you sleep? One doesn’t want to take the pill, because it’ll just prove that you’re not as strong as you thought, not as strong as you used to be.
But one needs to sleep. One needs to calm the ghosts, however briefly, knowing that they’ll just come back again soon, and fall asleep in the arms of one’s love.
Because the little things? Will also return. And they’ll bring joy again.
As y’all know, I fully support the writers in the strike, but I do miss the humorous insight of my pretend boyfriend Jon. Too bad I don’t have a basement…
*************************
So I saw Sweeney Todd last night. As I suspected, I didn’t hate it or find it badly done. Tim Burton and company did a fine job. Was it perfect? No. As a Sondheim fanatic who’s worked on two productions of the show and for whom Sweeney Todd is my second favorite musical (Sunday in the Park with George is #1, also by Sondheim), the chances of me finding absolutely nothing wrong with it is pretty slight.
But it was very faithful to the source material, Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter – if less melodramatic in the roles than I’m used to – still did well, both acting-wise and singing-wise. Alan Rickman was, of course, fantastic (then again, in my eyes it would be difficult for him to do wrong). I didn’t care much about the young lovers Anthony and Johanna, but I rarely do anyway – that’s nothing to do with the actors. At least the actress playing Johanna actually looked like a teen – rarely a given.
All of the other characters were nicely acted (including Sasha Baron Cohen as Pirelli). Plus recasting Toby as a child (instead of the simple minded adult in the stage version) worked well and added a chilling dimension to certain scenes. The child actor playing Toby (Ed Sanders) was terrific.
I loved the cinematography and set design, as I tend to do with Burton’s movies, and the way the musical was made purely cinematic pleased me to no end. And the ending? I know this musical like the back of my hand and I was still on the edge of my seat. Well done.
My issues with the movie are actually quite minor. One or two scene transitions could have been more creatively done (especially with an early scene where Sweeney is singing about the past, which then brings us to the past) and there was some graininess in some of the later scenes, which were especially dark. I also had some problems with the loss of some songs and lyrics. In most of the instances I understood why the songs and lyrics were cut (though I felt that, in one instance – the first scene with Anthony and Johanna – it hurt the scene a bit), but I missed them nevertheless, especially since it would have meant that I got to see Christopher Lee sing. Long-time readers know I’ve been a Chistopher Lee fan since I was five.
Still, I’m happy that Anthony Stewart Head still had a cameo, even if his original role as the Ballad Ghost was cut. Sondheim himself was very much involved with the production, which helped to keep it on track. And the thing that makes me really happy about the movie? Having Johnny Depp as the lead will insure that people who are not familiar with Stephen Sondheim or his music will see this and, perhaps, discover a whole new world of brilliant music and lyrics. Since this was a faithful and handsomely mounted adaptation, that can only be of the good.
The movie opens tonight in general release. Go, Sweeney, go!
Thanks to MusicianMan, I got myself a new website gig: US Tour of Duty. I didn’t design it, but starting last week I migrated the hosting over to a new company, updated the information and bullshitted (bullshat?) my way through altering a couple of graphics. Not bad, considering I am in no way a graphic artist. And it looks like I’ll be the main maintenance person. Whee! Even better? I’m getting paid. Double whee! It’s not much – since it’s a grassroots operation, I don’t like to charge a lot, especially when I believe in the work. But it’s enough for a little extra money, which is always helpful, and definitely more than I’m getting paid for the other sites I maintain on a volunteer basis.
So that make three websites of which I am the maintenance person: SoCal Grassroots, LA4Edwards and US Tour of Duty. All very worthy organizations, if I do say so myself.
Ya know, I’m just loving Bill Maher. Seriously, the more I see of him, the more I’m loving what he’s all about. The man’s got brains, balls and a wit sharp enough to skewer a roasted pig (which he might not do, as he’s a prominent member of PETA). He’s definitely making his way into my imaginary male seraglio (though Jon Stewart is still my imaginary boyfriend – sorry Bill). I may not always agree with him, but he makes a hell of a lot of sense, which wins mega points in my book.
The swelling is going down, the anti-biotics are taking effect, the bump over my eyebrow, while red and looking a little scabby, no longer looks like I’ve got a second head sprouting.
Thing is, I’m extremely picky. Rodgers and Hammerstein? Don’t like ‘em. Andrew Lloyd Webber? Annoyingly cloying without Tim Rice around.
For me, the penultimate composer is Stephen Sondheim. He’s a musical g-d in my eyes, one I’ve mentioned on more than one occasion. My favorite work of his is Sunday in the Park with George – perhaps my favorite musical of all time – but it was the brilliance of Sweeney Todd which first hooked me by the ear and dragged me into his stunning, syncopated worlds of dark and light. One of my favorite musical memories was from the early 90s, when I dated a filmmaker/composer – a man who was (and is) very talented and whose music is favorably reminiscent of Gershwin. We were at his place, going of photos of a short film we were working on, when music issued forth from a TV six feet away. My ears perked up as they recognized the opening strains from “The Ballad of Sweeney Todd” – the first number in the show.
“Sweeney Todd!” I exclaimed with delight. My then-boyfriend cocked his head and asked me about it. He had, of course, heard of Sweeney Todd and the brilliance of Sondheim, but was unfamiliar with the work. I couldn’t believe my ears. How could a man who was eighteen years older than me and had been composing since he was a child not be familiar with Sondheim or Sweeney Todd? It was unfathomable to me. I took great joy in filling in that bit of lacking knowledge.
Suffice to say that Sweeney Todd? It’s a good thing.
Therefore, I’m sure it wouldn’t take too much imagination to conjure the slight bit of trepidation that I feel when contemplating the film version due to be released around Christmas of this year.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Tim Burton. I think the casting of Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter as Todd and Mrs. Lovett could work well. And the marvelous Alan Rickman as Judge Turpin is positively inspired. The trailers look excellent:
But.
This is my baby. I am very protective of my baby.
Crossing my fingers…
(Too bad Anthony Stewart Head has been cut out of the movie. That would have been fabulous to see.)
