Emmys: Get With the (Parks & Recreation) Program!

After all these years, after seeing how you so often ignored other programs with just that right combination of warm and weird, offbeat and endearing - Moonlighting and Northern Exposure and The Gilmore Girls - I should know better.

But oh, Emmy, so little love for Parks and Recreation?

Why is the best comedy not nominated for best comedy? Why is a show that was consistently funny and filled with heart, not getting one slot for writing? And what about Nick Offerman being snubbed for supporting (scene-stealing) actor?

Well, I'm speechless. So I'd like Ron to give the speech "honoring" the other shows that did get the nod.  Other shows: "It is true. That you have won this award."

At least we have Amy. As sweetly strong, slightly crazed Leslie. Who can't figure out why anyone would rather be Cleopatra than Eleanor Roosevelt. Leslie who insists "I'm Not Nervous" about this date. Leslie, who just happens to have Amy Poehler's gift for singing and rapping.

 

And somehow the jaunty little theme song snuck in for a nom too. So Emmy voters, perhaps next year, you'll watch the show all the way through. Not just the opening credits. And then we can all sing Kum Bay Yah together. Or maybe Jabba the Hutt, Jabba the Hutt.

Movie Lines I Wish I'd Written

“Audiences don’t know that somebody sits down and writes a picture. They think the actors make it up as they go along.” - Sunset Boulevard. Spoken by William Holden. Written by Charles Brackett & Billy Wilder.

Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

You complete me.

Say hello to my little friend.

I just want to say one word to you…Plastics.
Tell me everything that's happened since the beginning.
Well, first the earth cooled. Then the dinosaurs came …

What we've got here...is a failure to communicate.
You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me?
Gentlemen, you can't fight in here. This is the War Room!

They’re here.
I’ll be back.
I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.
We'll always have Paris.

Here’s Johnny.
As if. Okay, so he is kind of a Baldwin.
I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody.
There's no crying in baseball!

Houston, we have a problem.

It's not a tumah!

We’re gonna need a bigger boat.
Fasten your seat belts - it's going to be a bumpy night.

I’m as mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore.
I love the smell of napalm in the morning.
I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.
I'm not bad; I'm just drawn that way.

She's my daughter! She's my sister! She's my daughter! My sister, my daughter. She's my sister and my daughter.
My daughter is in pain...Give my daughter the shot!

Show Me The Money
Forget it Jake. It’s Chinatown.
This is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into.
That’s the way it crumbles, cookie-wise.

All right, Mister DeMille, I’m ready for my closeup.
Here’s looking at you kid.


You had me at hello.


I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.

I Was Always the Glee Generation

And so, it's Christmas for Theatre Geeks - Tony Awards day. In its honor, the New York Times tells me that the Youths of the Country are embracing their inner theatre nerds. So much so, that you're no longer a nerd if you love music theatre. It's hip to be geek. Or Gleek. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/13/fashion/13Cultural.html

The author, who seems to be a decade younger than me(!), reflects on the differences between his teen days and now: "Whereas the high-schoolers of my era wouldn’t admit to liking show tunes for fear of seeming gay, those of today wouldn’t even necessarily conflate the two things, and besides, what’s wrong with being gay?"

Ah, whatever Gen we're on now, bless you. Bless you, kids, for your enlightenment. Although, to tell you the truth, in the Bad Old Days there was almost something cool (that's sick to you) about being so out of it you were almost in again.

Anyway, back to big-time theatre. They're reviving "Funny Girl." No, they haven't cloned La Streisand. They're actually going to get someone else to play the lead. And then they're going to find someone who sings "Respect" better than Aretha. And ... well, fill in your own impossible to beat standard.

Still, just the talk of that 60s classic musical got me in the mood to watch an iconic film musical moment. Funny Girl's "Don't Rain on My Parade" aka The Statue of Liberty scene.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6E2Mooz_LA

And although there is only one Babs, I guess Lea Michele's version of the song itself ain't bad.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2FQ40_fVDk

Now, I have my problems with aspects of Glee, in general. (Starting with my first question: Is it hyperbolic satire with broadly drawn caricatures or mushy sitcom - with broadly drawn caricatures?) But I do appreciate that it's introducing some great music - not only Broadway, but classic R & B and rock - to those Youths I mentioned above.

And listening to/ watching that "Funny Girl" scene got me thinking in general about something I don't say often - it is the ARTS of America that make me most proud to be from this country. The U.S., in so many ways one hot mess of a place, has given the world Broadway. And Jazz. And R & B. And on and on. And I'm glad I was born gleek enough to appreciate, to revel in, so much of it:

The Gershwins. Stevie Wonder and Stephen Sondheim. Streisand and Aretha. Holland Dozier Holland. Benny Goodman. Bruce Springsteen. Christina Aguilera. Gene Kelly. Fred Astaire. And that's just the first dozen or so names off the top of my head.

So, yes, I'll be watching the Tonys. Every musical isn't a gem. Every musical isn't my cup of tea. But it's still pretty cool that we've got so much, I can afford to be this picky. That I'm from MusicNerdNation.

In My Lousy Flash Forward I Saw the Crappy LOST Finale

I’m amazed at the number of fans LOST had until the bitter end. Far fewer people seemed to be satisfied with the one-season wonder, Flash Forward. (Based on my highly unscientific occasional skimming of Television Without Pity.)

But while the former show may have had the edge in some areas - a few individual characters more fully fleshed out in writing or acting - when it came down to it, both were muddled messes.

 The main problem? The creators of these shows, and others of the ilk (e.g., The X-Files), shows of the multi-character, sci-fi mystery, Big Myth genre - didn’t seem to know their final destination back when they started the journey.

 So instead of a clearly defined path, with a few interesting scenic side-trips, we got one of those road-trips from hell, where daddy refuses to look at a map, and mom has a permanent migraine and Billy is dangling Jenny’s pet hamster out the window. (Play along with me, my metaphorical family took their bleepity-bleep hamster on their vacation, OK?)

These shows are more infuriatingly coy and self-satisfied than every reality show diva on the planet combined. They provided fewer straightforward answers than a Family-Values senator or preacher who’s just been caught wearing diapers with a hooker or taking a rent boy to Europe.

Oh, they tease us with their shiny new toy of a premise. Only for us to find a few weeks or years after we started playing with the toy that it was filled with Grade A Chinese lead.

I stopped watching Lost regularly sometime while they were all still on the island (or dead, or whatever they were) the first time. Before some of them left, or came back, or flew sideways, or whatever. Then this year I got into the habit of flipping over to it in between other shows, keeping it on for background noise while I cyber-surfed.

But I didn’t really know what was going on. Which means I could’ve been one of the writers.

Ba-dum-bump.

And then there’s Flash Forward. I’ve read the novel by Robert Sawyer, the Canadian writer of science-heavy science fiction.

It’s a hell of a premise, a great twist on the sci-fi theme that’s been a favorite fantasy of mine since childhood - time travel.

In fact, my recent movie script, Do Not Delete, is a time-travel theme. I’ve also dabbled with other time travel plots. And read a zillion short-stories and novels and seen numerous movies and TV shows utilizing the topic.

So Flash Forward, the TV show, naturally grabbed my attention. But oh, what a hot mess it was from Episode One, FADE IN. Right through the Calvalcade of Cliches that was the abrupt and unsatisfying season/ series finale.

Take that last episode. S’il vous plait. Bitte. Please.

I don’t have the faintest clue what was supposedly going on with the building blowing up, or why the Bad Guys With Guns were also there. But everything in those scenes was so clichéd it looked like a parody:

• The “ruthless” gunmen jittery, jumping the trigger at just the sound of a cell phone ringing.
• Ralph‘sLessTalentedBrother hiding behind a shuttered closet door and not one of the Bad Guys glancing that way as they entered the room.
• And Die-Hard, the Dork Version, with Our Hero running in shampoo-commercial Slo-Mo toward the window as the building explodes.

Joseph Fiennes spent most of Flash Forward 

searching for a consistent American accent.

Plus, why was the threat to the building a surprise. Didn't all of the law enforcement people (including the extras) see themselves there in their FFs. Or not see themselves, in the case of the ones who were mowed down just before 10 p.m.


And then there’s the silly Oh she wasn’t being drowned, she was being saved. Oh, she wasn’t dead, just has a really thready pulse. Oh, oh, oh …

The only characters I found the least bit interesting were Janis, and to a lesser extent, Lloyd. (I know, I know, but I like his English accent and puppy-dog eyes.) Oh, and the savant, whazizname.

I did have one happy association when I watched a few of the last episodes, though. Every time the show mentioned April 29, I remembered my fun trip to an ice show in Canada on that day this year.

Until I realized, if there’d really been a (second) worldwide blackout on that day, I might’ve driven off the Ambassador Bridge.

Ew, I’ll probably dream that now.

And my five-second dream will be more interesting than Lost Seasons 2-6 and Flash Forward, Season Everything, put together.

This is How Olympic Athletes Think

OK, so this is how Olympic-caliber athletes think. It’s a warmup before a Canadian Stars on Ice show. Vancouver bronze medalist Joannie Rochette, sorta done practicing, or maybe just taking a break, sits near the ice. Two other Olympic-eligible skaters land triple jumps, in sync, at opposite ends of rink. JoRo gets up, goes back on the ice, lands a triple-triple jump, sits back down. Just like that. As if to say, hello, I'm a frickin' Olympic medalist. I’ll see your solo triple and raise you a triple.

That is how Olympic athletes think. Even at an ice show practice.

Sneaking a Peek at Athletes at Their Peak

Life is mainly regular old stuff, stuff you have to do, stuff you really don't want to do, stuff you just do. Then every once in awhile, you get a treat. Like for me, it's spending warm nights in cool rinks, watching people who can race around on ice skates like Horowitz used to race around the keyboard. It's watching people who are my stars on ice, in places like this arena, from center ice 10 rows up.

Good thing I saw the warmup, 'cos my show seat was way over at rink's end, up top. The kind of low-rent seat that can distance you from the performances. (Of course, I’m someone who’s been spoiled rotten, able to watch top skaters close up at these kinds of practies many other times. How you gonna keep 'em up in the peanut gallery once they've sat downtown?)

The Main Show

Among the actual show highlights for me at this 2010 edition of Stars on Ice, Canada, were Rochette's “Summertime” followed by Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir's adaptation of the Mahler program that won them World and Olympic gold this year. Just magnificent performances by skaters at the peak of the power.


Another fave - the “Intermission” program, skated by three of the guys and Ms. Rochette. This cast meshes well. If they secretly hate each others’ guts, they’re faking friendship superbly.


Of Course, I'd Be Charmed if They Just Sat There Texting
Informal practices are always fun to watch. Saw lots of cute stuff, like when Kurt Browning was practicing footwork, and Rochette started to playfully imitate him. I just wanted to pick them both up, put them in my purse and have them with me to do charming things like that all day. (BTW Dear AllSkatersEverywhere: Mr. Browning is a good person to try to imitate footwork-wise.)


It took me awhile to realize some skaters were running through parts of programs, not skating to random warmup songs. Duh. (I had been secretly giving props to former world champ Jeff Buttle for what I thought was a brilliant ad-libbing to Stones music.)


Illegal Geese

Later in the practice Tessa and Scott - that's Virtue and Moir to you non-obssessed - practiced their signature move, the Goose, with a fantastic (but deemed “illegal” for competition) dismount.  And some of their elaborate lifts. (TBH, who’d just put her eyes back in her head from the eligible skaters’ JumpFest, was all *eek* again.)

And then the hubby/wife dance team of Dubreil and Lauzon ran through a bit of their “newspaper” program, all slinky and everything, as if to say, “No one even has to ask US if we’re sleeping together.”

Javier Fernandez - Will He Reign From Spain or Mainly Stay Kind of Plain?
Of course, being an obsessed fan also mean the joy of discovering new talent. (Once upon a time JoRo and V/M were my new little finds.)


Here's another one who might make a big splash (by not splatting) someday. A kid from that hotbed of ice sports, Spain. Javier Fernandez. I don’t know when he got on my radar within the past several months, but he did.

I was looking at this drunken pirate’s website/ wiki entries (his long program was a wacky routine to Pirates of the Caribbean). Not a lot of detail yet. Because again - Spain?!? (A few weeks ago I was reading some condolences posted at Joannie Rochette’s website. It popped out at me that one of them began, “I’m from Spain - ice skating isn’t very big here …” It’d be interesting to see if that would change much if this young man progresses to a high level.)


It’s just always fascinating how people get into something, no matter what their circumstances, as if they’re just destined to do it.


And you know who that kind of person is? The kind of person who gets up in the middle of an ice show practice and throws down a damn hard old jump combo. Just for the hell of it.

"Why Don't She Write?"

Bonus points if you can name the movie reference in the title

Just realized it's been three weeks of post-Olympic fog since I last wrote something here. I still don't know how Joannie Rochette managed to skate in Vancouver. I don't think she does either.

I continue to work on two scripts.

FADE IN
INT. AMY'S PLACE - EVENING

So far I've expressed one of these stories, "International Latin," in all of the following formats:

• As a one-act play,
• An unfinished full-length play and musical, 
• A one-hour TV pilot, and 
• A short film script.

Next will come posting the script line by line on twitter and reciting it on the corner of 11 Mile and Main in Royal Oak. 

By the way, bonus points if you get what the title "International Latin" refers to. (Answer: A category of ballroom dancing styles.)

I have lived with these characters for more than a year now. I know them so well, and yet I'm still filling them in every day. 

Writing is so hard. And yet it's so fun. You get to be all the actors. And the director, lighting designer, music editor.

A few days ago I finished the short-film version of the "International Latin" script and submitted it to a contest run by S3 Entertainment Group. That's the all-services production company that's also been one of the first to get new film studio space up-and running here in Southeast Michigan. (Hey guys, freebie plug.)

Then I went back to polish up the one-hour pilot version of "International Latin" for some upcoming TV scriptwriting contests.

And finally, after three months I've gone back to the other script, a 170-page!!! film script, "Do Not Delete," which is about time-travelling ex-college roommates.

Oy, where to start trimming slashing the hell out of that thing?

I've decided that editing is to writing what food poisoning is to gourmet dining.

FADE OUT (for now)

THE END (for now)

Image: Gabriele Goffredo and Antonia Goffredo

The Olympics: How I Mostly Love Being Half-Canadian

Croooosby! [Shakes Fist.]  I - living in Detroit of all places - have been a fan of yours for two or three years. But maybe a little less today.  Because I did want the boys from this side of the border to win. The way I figure it, you folks have clean, safe cities and great healthcare. You could've thrown us the bone of one little hockey game.

But mostly, I do love Canada and Canadians. And although I haven't spent much time there, I'm proud of my Canadian ancestry. (My dad's side came across Lake Huron from Ontario and from way on up in Beauharnois, Quebec.)

And I especially have adored Canadian figure skaters. Brian O. Kurt. Jamie & David. Virtue and Moir. Joannie.

I've been a fan of the latter since well before the Torino games. Like so many others, how  long I had waited for the times she would pull it together at a big event.

And in the meanwhile, I too have faced my share of hardships over the years.

So how much more personal did this second week of the Vancouver games seem to me.

I think I've handled my challenges as well as I could. But if there's ever a day I feel myself faltering, I will look back on the way that beautiful (on the inside and out) young woman acquitted herself in the face of tragedy and with the eyes of half a billion on her. And pulled out two of the performances of her life. Merci, ma petite.

And Tessa and Scott. Temporary transplants to my state. The millennial Torvill and Dean. How special, how ethereal, yet how down-to-earth. I'm thrilled to witness the gift of your talent.

Thank you, Canada. Ya got some good kids there. Even the one who scored the OT goal. I'm fully proud to be half Canadian.