In the quest to find the most extreme opposite environment to the isolation of my work, I recently took a trip to New York City with a friend of mine. In all honesty, the trip was primarily comprised of food and drink. I could rave about the chef’s tasting menu at Thomas Keller’s Per Se, or the incredible BBQ and bourbon at Fette Sau, but this column is reserved for film and the likes, so instead I shall share some of my thoughts on the experiences related to the film world. First things first, I didn’t actually see any films (it’s actually starting to get ridiculous how few films I’ve seen as of late), but I did manage to catch some of my film industry favourites in different avenues. Here’s what I thought of them.
Race – The day that we booked our travel, we bought tickets to David Mamet’s latest play, and I was looking forward to it more than anything. My high hopes were well founded. Since ‘House of Games‘ and ‘The Spanish Prisoner,’ I have been a diehard fan of all things Mamet (I even watched the military TV show he produced). Through all of his films, one of his stand-out trademarks is an offbeat cadence for dialogue; full of unexpected pauses sandwiched between machine-gun fire bursts of words, usually too blue for young ears. ‘Race’ is no different, and his script is delivered perfectly by the small but brilliant cast. I haven’t seen David Alan Grier in anything (willingly) since his ‘In Living Color‘ days, and I’m happy to report that he is absolutely incredible in this role. While Kerry Washington, James Spader, and Richard Thomas all do excellent jobs, Grier seems most at home with Mamet’s writing style. Every single time that Grier opens his mouth, something memorable is said and every word cuts like a knife. The beauty of stage performances is that the actors are able to fine tune and improvise as they perform night after night, becoming more and more familiar with the characters and story. This is evident as Spader and Grier both have absolutely brilliant moments where their facial expressions convey so much more than any of Mamet’s words, and the results are gripping. As the title (and Mamet’s history of not pulling punches) suggest, the subject at hand is indeed race. With such a sensitive topic, I was surprised at how well the audience reacted. It is a testament to both Mamet’s writing and the actors’ delivery, that in a room full of more races than I could count, his scathing words and pointed message were received with ample applause and laughter (that’s right, it’s actually quite funny). I may be biased, but I recommend ‘Race’ as a must-see for anyone that is able. You will not forget it.
A Behanding in Spokane – As with ‘Race,’ I was looking forward to ‘Spokane’ with eager anticipation. Starring Christopher Walken and Sam Rockwell, and written by Martin McDonagh (who wrote and directed ‘In Bruges,’ one of my favourite movies of recent years) this was a perfect combination. Things got off to a star-struck start when before the show, I was waiting in line in the men’s room, only to have someone brush up behind me. I turned to notice that the accidental ass-brusher was none other than Patton Oswalt (I immediately played it “Vancouver-cool” and turned back around, pretending not to recognize or care about the incident or his identity). Nonetheless, my anticipation for the impending performance was amped, as I thought that if one of their own was in the audience, they’d be sure to give the show of a lifetime. I was wrong. ‘Spokane’ was…. meh. Christopher Walken was exactly as one would predict. Exactly. I’m beginning to wonder if Walken even exists anymore, or if it’s just the gimmick of his voice. He didn’t really do anything with the role; it felt like a mediocre SNL skit (although it would have been funnier if instead of Walken, it was Hader doing a Walken impression), suffering from stale and stagnant writing, predicated on one gimmick that lost its novelty fast. Rockwell was fantastic, if only his character was meant to be in the play. His peripheral role was nowhere near integral to the story, and it felt like the writer frantically added more stage time for him once he realized that he could get Rockwell to play the role. Never before have I seen such a great waste of amazing talent. All of this could have been entertaining though; I would gladly watch an unnecessary Rockwell and a one-trick pony Walken just to see them interact. Sadly, the play was made to seem amateur by Anthony Mackie and Zoe Kazan. While I have enjoyed Mackie whenever he pops up in a movie I’m watching (including ‘The Hurt Locker‘), he delivered his lines like someone delivering lines. It felt like reciting more than acting, and it was only made bearable in comparison to Kazan, who I’ve never seen before and I’m happy to never see again. With these two interrupting any time that I was actually enjoying Walken or Rockwell, in the end my brief brush with Patton Oswalt was to be the only excitement of the night. After ‘In Bruges,’ I expected so much more. So much more. Unless you absolutely can’t resist the need to see Walken and Rockwell live on stage (and on paper, it’s pretty hard to resist), do yourself a favour and see something else instead.
The Late Show with David Letterman – I’ve always been more of a Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert guy, but after answering a trivia question over the phone, here was a chance to see a show for free, and I’ve chuckled at Letterman over the years (a little less now that he’s in his bitter years). It started with the amazing chance to stand in the rain in NYC for an hour in line, only to then stand in another line, to then be told to come back an hour later and stand in yet another line. While standing in the first line, I was surprised to catch a glimpse of Anna Camp whom I absolutely loved in ‘True Blood.’ I was kind of happy to see that everyone had to stand in this ridiculous line, even if you already had a foot in the door (again, I played it “Vancouver-cool” and walked past her without a second glance, although I wish I hadn’t). As with ‘Behanding,’ my celebrity sighting was the highlight of the day. The third line we stood in was made extra special by someone basically threatening us all to laugh, regardless of the quality of material we were about to see. That didn’t instill a lot of faith in us. We were then herded in to sit in our especially crappy seats, that were situated to see everything except Dave’s desk. The rest of the show consisted of a mediocre warm-up comedian, an average first half by Dave, and then the guests. Ben Stiller was on (and I don’t know any male of my generation that isn’t at least amused by him), but he was recently sick, and as a result his interview was stale and boring. The next guest was Chef Jamie Oliver, whom I was actually looking forward to seeing (this was after all, a bit of a culinary tour for me), but his entire time was spent trying to encourage people to look into his new campaign for healthy eating, only to have Dave assure him repeatedly (and rather annoyingly) that we were all doomed and there was no point in eating healthy. It wasn’t funny. It was just kind of rude. It was the equivalent of having an A-list actor come on, only to assure them that there’s no point in ever going to see movies. Why the hell did you ask him to come on the damned show?! The show was capped with a performance by Justin Bieber that reminded me why I hate most pop music. The only credit I could give Bieber is that his DJ was wearing Beats by Dre headphones. Afterwards, we were rushed out with yelled instructions of “NO PICTURES.” If I hadn’t already abandoned Letterman, I’d do it now. Where is Conan when you need him most?
Tim Burton at the MoMA – This was actually one of the main things that I wanted to see while in NYC. Apparently, so did everyone else in New York. When we did finally fight our way into the exhibit, I was immediately forced to question Burton’s decision-making process when it came to the exhibit’s layout. If the exhibit was empty, it still would have been claustrophobic, and the addition of thousands of lookey-loos meandering and clogging all possible walking areas, prohibited me from even seeing 20% of the exhibit. What I did see was amazing, though. Everything I wanted to see was there: sketches dating back to his early days, models and figurines, as well as countless memorabilia from his movies. What amazed me most, however, were his series of Polaroid images – stark visuals with vibrant colours. Sadly, my memory will have to serve me for the years to come, as the Security Nazis at the MoMA were working in full force. Apparently you can take as many photos as you want of works by Kandinsky, Matisse, Monet, Picasso, Pollock, Warhol, Kahlo and countless more, but Burton’s work that has always been made for public viewing, is not meant to ever be relived via photographs. Stealthily sneaking covert photos with my phone was the only way to ever see some of these exhibits again, and a few times my heart raced as I looked out of the corners of my eye hoping to get away with it before being kicked out. It is a shame that such amazing work can only be seen through the slow-moving herd with employees glaring at you, waiting to yell at you for trying to sneak a pic.
All in all, aside from ‘Race,’ my trip to NYC was disappointing as far as the entertainment industry goes. The food and bourbon? A whole other story, best saved for another day. So, if you find yourself in New York, heed this warning: when entering a venue for the purposes of entertainment, if you see a celebrity outside, turn tail and run to the nearest whiskey bar or restaurant. Celebrities in the audience are a bad omen, and I can’t stress enough how good the food and drink is, especially in contrast to forced art.
– Pig (best served pulled, with BBQ sauce, and two fingers of bourbon poured neat)
