.

The events of the past seven-and-a-half hours have turned me into the Ebenezer Scrooge of New Year’s Eve.

The concept of the holiday reminds me somewhat of a birthday. Birthdays are, at their core, ultimately pointless and somewhat morbid in that their only purpose is to celebrate another year in which one did not die. In case you forget this, some assholes will undoubtedly say the phrase “and many more” (usually in song, as if that’ll cheer you up about your own mortality) on the very day in question. At the end of your birthday, all there is to do is lament the fact that you’re numerically older than you were yesterday, and closer to the grave.

The celebration of the New Year feels equally as pointless. Instead of focusing on one individual when praising their ability to avoid death for another 365 days, we have more of a communal party… where we pat ourselves on the back for being alive from January all the way to the end of December (this ‘pat on the back’ usually comes in the form of alcohol… which, let’s face it, is readily available at any given time during the year).

What makes New Year’s different from any other day, really?

Nothing, except for the fucking snow this year… and my accompaning heart and headaches.

Maybe I’m being unfair. After all, there are still a good four and a half hours left of 2005… maybe something good will come of them. All I know is, I’m probably going to sleep before Carson Daly, or Dick Clark (whom they unfreeze specifically for this occasion), or Ryan Seacrest, or Jesus, or Al Roker — or any of those motherfuckers* — get to “drop the ball” on Times Square.

Fuck you, New Year’s Eve! You are not rockin’!

* Jesus is excluded from the motherfucker comment. In fact, Jesus was born without his mother ever being fucked by anyone (excluding God**, of course)
** Just kidding. The Allmighty didn’t fuck anyone, especially Jesus’ mom***. In fact, according to Kevin Smith’s Dogma, God is a woman (and a Canadian)… which would have made intercourse between Mary and the Holiest of Holies hot, all-out lesbian sex… and everybody knows you can’t get pregnant from lesbian sex.
*** These footnotes will stop now, so as to put an end to offending… well, everyone

It seems as if it’s that time again — the time when we all make ridiculous promises to themselves that they’ll never manage to keep over the course of the next 365 days. This year, I figured I’d try something slightly different — if I publish my unrealistic promises to myself on the internet, perhaps I’ll be slightly more pressured into assuring that I live up to them. Let’s try it out, shall we?

Get a job - Okay, this one’s less of a resolution and more of a “must.” I’ve been applying for some jobs the past couple of days in the City, but my most promising prospect is a meeting with a Starbucks manager at a open house. Problem with that is, it’s two weeks away.
Read the complete works of William Shakespeare - Being a drama student, I feel kind of inferior that the only Shakespeare I’ve read has been mandatory during high school. I’ve had a Barnes & Noble copy of the complete works (only $20!) for over a year now, and I’ve still barely cracked the cover. This resolution seems simple enough. If I had to bet on my completion of any of them, this one would be it.
Finish “A Year At The Academy” - For reasons that I’ve still yet to sit down and explain at a keyboard, I stopped updating my other blog. My resolution is to post for every day of the project cycles, including my thoughts on Graduation in April.
Eat better quality meat - File this one under the ‘asinine resolution’ category. Months of Jackie Bartone have finally gotten to me, I’m beginning to show sympathy for animals that are needlessly killed (by drivers, hunters, etc.) during the course of the year. In fact, I’ve even started to show remorse over eating meat. Whereas I’m not quite ready to give up my precious bacon cheeseburgers (nor do I think I ever will be), I know that I can at least make a move towards eating free range and organic meats. Problem with that is, it’s expensive.
Get in shape - This one is possibly more absurd than the last. I’ve been telling myself that I’ll get in shape for approximately nine years now, when I first started to slip into the realm of Hostess cupcakes and an endless supply of Pringles. I’ve come the closest I’ve been since then a few months ago, with movement class twice a week and an hour of walking a day. Hopefully, I can build upon the foundation I’ll get in movement classes with Michael in the coming term.

Well, that’s all that I can think of for now. As I said, I’ll probably give up on half of these midway through the year. In fact, I give myself until January 8th.

It’s not often that I go to see one man shows. There’s something about them that usually seems masturbatory (read: Whoopi, 700 Sundays, or Laugh Whore) and turns me off as a theatregoer. Fortunately, there is a one man show that has absolutely nothing to do with the aforementioned “one man” performing: The One Man Star Wars Trilogy.

For the ticket price, you get exactly what the title promises… all three Star Wars films, acted out by one man in the course of an hour. But remember, this is no ordinary man — he’s a Canadian.

Nationalities aside, he breezes through each film in about twenty minutes. When he finished A New Hope, I was completely amazed that he had managed to accomplish such a feat while including so much of the plot and managing to throw in his own jokes in the middle. His impersonations of all the characters, while not exactly always dead-on, are close enough to be scary — his Alec Guinness was hilarious.

There’s not much more to say about it, other than the fact that you’ll laugh your ass off for the entire show. I’m still chuckling in my seat at home thinking of his Jabba.

Unfortunately, it seems as if this show is a limited engagement, as Charles Ross (the writer / performer) is taking the show on the road for the remainder of the year. So, if you happen to be reading this review in the next three days, looking for something interesting to do in New York City — which, admittedly, is rather unlikely — go see One Man Star Wars Trilogy… it’s one hell of a good time. If not, try and catch it on tour… you’ll love it!

This thing has caught on like crazy, hasn’t it? It’s been around for a while before I posted it yesterday, but check out an article from yesterday’s New York Times:

Nerds in the Hood, Stars on the Web
By DAVE ITZKOFF
Published: December 27, 2005

Video: ‘Lazy Sunday’ (nbc.com)

For most aspiring rappers, the fastest route to having material circulated around the World Wide Web is to produce a work that is radical, cutting-edge and, in a word, cool. But now a pair of “Saturday Night Live” performers turned unexpected hip-hop icons are discovering that Internet stardom may be more easily achieved by being as nerdy as possible.

In “Lazy Sunday,” a music video that had its debut on the Dec. 17 broadcast of “SNL,” two cast members, Chris Parnell and Andy Samberg, adopt the brash personas of head-bopping, hand-waving rappers. But as they make their way around Manhattan’s West Village, they rhyme with conviction about subjects that are anything but hard-core: they boast about eating cupcakes from the Magnolia Bakery, searching for travel directions on MapQuest and achieving their ultimate goal of attending a matinee of the fantasy movie “The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.”

It is their obliviousness to their total lack of menace - or maybe the ostentatious way they pay for convenience-store candy with $10 bills - that makes the video so funny, but it is the Internet that has made it a hit. Since it was originally broadcast on NBC, “Lazy Sunday” has been downloaded more than 1.2 million times from the video-sharing Web site YouTube.com; it has cracked the upper echelons of the video charts at NBC.com and the iTunes Music Store; and it has even inspired a line of T-shirts, available at Teetastic.com.

“I’ve been recognized more times since the Saturday it aired than since I started on the show,” said Mr. Samberg, 27, a featured player in his first season on “SNL.” “It definitely felt like something changed overnight.”

But Mr. Samberg is already well aware of the Internet’s power to transform relative unknowns into superstars. In 2000, when he and his childhood friends Akiva Schaffer and Jorma Taccone, both 28, who wrote “Lazy Sunday” with Mr. Samberg and Mr. Parnell, were still struggling comedy writers living together in Los Angeles, they created a Web site, the Lonely Island, to house their self-produced skits and video experiments.

“Honestly, almost every single one of the films was done at like 4 in the morning, kind of drunk,” Mr. Taccone said. But the short movies they posted on thelonelyisland.com - everything from cartoons assembled from clips of old Nintendo video games to satirical rap videos performed in the styles of their favorite hip-hop artists - also gave the three a place to develop their comic voices without the pressure of having to deliver professionally polished work.

“The Internet allowed us to show people much faster, in a way that you don’t embarrass yourself,” Mr. Taccone said. “You don’t have to hand someone a VHS. It’s just on their computer.”

These videos also provided the Lonely Island team with careers: through their Internet work, they landed an agent, pilot deals with Comedy Central and Fox, and writing jobs for the MTV Movie Awards. In 2005, they joined “SNL,” Mr. Samberg as a performer and Mr. Taccone and Mr. Schaffer as writers.

At “SNL” they found a kind of kindred spirit in Mr. Parnell, who has used the program’s “Weekend Update” segment to deliver highly inappropriate rap tributes to some of the show’s comelier female guest hosts. “I don’t think I ever heard from Britney Spears,” said Mr. Parnell, 38, who has been with the show since 1998. “But Kirsten Dunst and Jennifer Garner seemed to really enjoy it, and thankfully not be creeped out by it.”

On the evening of Dec. 12, the four wrote a song about “two guys rapping about very lame, sensitive stuff,” as Mr. Samberg described it. They recorded it the following night in the office Mr. Samberg shares with Mr. Schaffer and Mr. Taccone at “SNL,” using a laptop computer that Mr. Taccone bought on Craigslist.

Then, while their colleagues were rehearsing and rewriting that Saturday’s show, the group spent the morning of Dec. 15 shooting their video with a borrowed camera, using the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater in Chelsea to stand in for a multiplex cinema and Mr. Taccone’s girlfriend’s sister to play a convenience-store clerk. Mr. Schaffer spent the next night - and morning - editing the video and working with technicians to bring it up to broadcast standards. Finally, at about 11 p.m. on Dec. 17, the four learned from Lorne Michaels, the executive producer of “SNL,” that “Lazy Sunday” would be shown on that night’s show.

By the next morning, the video had burrowed its way into the nation’s cultural consciousness. “It brought a breath of fresh air to the show,” Mr. Parnell said, adding that he received a congratulatory phone call soon after “Lazy Sunday” was shown from his co-star Maya Rudolph, who is on maternity leave, and her boyfriend, the filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson. “It’s something the likes of which we haven’t seen on ‘SNL’ anytime recently.”

Mr. Schaffer and Mr. Taccone were also contacted by friends who heard the rap played on radio stations and in bars. And Mr. Samberg found himself in the delicate position of having to explain to his mother that the song’s chorus is a play on words involving the name “Chronicles of Narnia” and the word chronic, a slang term for marijuana. “She’s like, ‘So is it actually about weed?’ ” Mr. Samberg said. “It makes you think it’s going to be about weed, but then it’s actually just about ‘Narnia.’ She’s like, ‘Oh, I think I get it.’ ”

While Mr. Parnell anticipates that the buzz surrounding “Lazy Sunday” will eventually die down, he said the video’s success would continue to pay dividends for his young collaborators.

“It will have whatever life people are interested in it having, and then it’ll pass out of being the thing of the moment,” he said. “But it encourages Lorne and everybody involved with the show to trust them more, and to put their stuff out there.”

Mr. Schaffer, who has written just two live sketches with Mr. Taccone that have survived the Darwinian “SNL” dress rehearsal process and made it onto the air, said he appreciated the attention “Lazy Sunday” has received. But he also said he expected no special treatment when the show’s staff resumes work in January.

“The thing about ‘SNL,’ ” Mr. Schaffer said, “is that all of this could happen, and we could still come in on Monday morning with zero ideas. No matter what, that’s intimidating. We could use all the help we can get.”

The holidays have taught me that there are still some rare moments of SNL genius.
The Chronic-WHAT?-cles of Narnia

One of the most amazing things to happen to me during the holiday season:

Speaking of reviews — I’ve got a few more movie reviews coming up, as well as an Off-Broadway show that probably won’t be running anymore by the time I post it (although not because it’s bad — hopefully, I’ll remember to explain).

And while we’re on the subject of movies, I saw some awesome trailers at the cinema last night: Thank You For Smoking and American Dreamz. I’d also like to bring everyone’s attention to the trailer for The Benchwarmers… it looks amazing. Then again, I’m a huge Napoleon Dynamite fan, and it looks like Jon Heder is giving us Napoleon in a helmet this time around (”Makers of what? Poop!?”).

Curious George has also got my attention. If Will Ferrell isn’t enough, it seems as if Jack Johnson’s done the music for the film.

I got to see some of the newest incarnation of Greg the Bunny on IFC thanks to my uncle’s TiVo. Whereas I thought that being on a premium channel would expand the show’s horizons… it’s only ruined it. The original series was one of the funniest things I’ve seen on TV, and Craig’s recent DVD purchase has proved such. While we’re on the subject of good TV shows — Slafta has showed me The Oblongs… and I am a very happy man.

Hopefully I’ll start posting regularly again. I’ve been going through moments in my life that I consider blog-worthy at the time, but I forget about them when I stare blankly at this computer screen. Maybe I’ll try and change that as a new year’s resolution.

It’s been a year since I’ve seen Rent on Broadway, and at least three since I first heard the score. As a result, I had been eagerly anticipating Rent’s release for quite some time.

Heading into the film, I was a bit uncertain about a couple of things.
- Number one — the director, Chris Columbus, has previously directed the first two Harry Potter films and the first two Home Alone movies… so who decided that he would be the perfect guy for the movie about eight twentysomethings (50% of whom have AIDS)?
- Number two — although the original Broadway cast had been given roles in the movie, two of them had been replaced. The role of Joanne had been filled by Tracie Thoms — and who the hell is she? Even worse, the role of Mimi had been given to Rosario Dawson, who has the natural acting talent of a piece of dry toast.
- Number three - Among other popular songs from the show, “Christmas Bells,” one of my favorite numbers, had been cut.

Fortunately, I wasn’t entirely disappointed by the film. Although I did miss the music that was cut from the beginning, I was able to suspend my disbelief throughout the entire film, including the restructuring, lyric changes, and other missing bits of the show.

Unfortunately, Chris Columbus really drops the ball with Rent. His changes to the source material detract from the emotional impact of key moments in the film, including *SPOILER ALERT : HIGHLIGHT TO READ* Angel’s death, and the entire feel of the finale, which unfortunately falls flat. In this, Columbus proves to be somewhat of a cocktease — as the film opened so brilliantly and ended so dull.

The cast is the only saving grace of the film. Anthony Rapp steps seamlessly back into Mark’s striped scarf. Adam Pascal, while choosing to act the role like a deer looking at oncoming traffic, still manages to make Roger enjoyable. The extremely talented Taye Diggs is unfortunately underutilized as Benny. Wilson Jermaine Heredia and Jesse L. Martin are absolutely electric, bringing the on-stage chemistry of Angel and Collins to the silver screen. Previously unknown Tracie Thoms absolutely wowed me, and I hope that she gets many more film roles in the future. Even Rosario Dawson, whom I saw and hated in Central park this year, turns out a dazzling performance as Mimi.

But the true star is Tony winner Idina Menzel. The former woman in green has proven that she can take over the film industry just as she has done with the stage.

Rent isn’t the best film you’ll see this year, but it’s definitely worth checking out. Hopefully the DVD will be out soon, and you could check out the film with the numbers “Halloween” and “Goodbye Love”, which were unfortunately cut in the eleventh hour. I could go on and on about the changes made to the material in the film (and I may one day), but… I’ll spare the reader this time around.

Dear New York,

Merry Christmas!

All our love,
the Transit Workers Union

I was awake at around 4am last night, when the news stations were absolutely freaking out because the TWU had officially announced they had gone on strike, and the MTA ceased to work. While that didn’t necessarily “sink in” fully at the time (hell, I’d been up for 23 hours and running on about 3 hours sleep), it really did hit me this morning.

This is Christmastime… one of the times when New Yorkers need the subway and bus systems the most. Hundreds upon thousands of tourists will be stranded in their hotels, wandering blankly crowding the streets, and unable to find “the MTV building.” People who still need to walk to work are absolutely fucked (like Bloomberg, whom allegedly walked across the Brooklyn Bridge this morning… despite the fact that I’ve yet to see a picture of said event).

What does all this mean for New York City? Shit, I don’t know… but I do know that I’m one lucky bastard that school’s over and I’m comfortable at home.

That having been said, I’m going to kick back, play some video games, and possibly jump in my cushy car and drive around — no walking necessary.

Happy Holidays indeed.

You’ve gotta love the perks of drama school. My institution, The American Academy of Dramatic Arts, has a sort of working partnership with the Screen Actor’s Guild, who uses our facilities to host Q&A sessions with certain working screen actors, and SAG invites the students to those conversations. Another perk of this partnership is that the students are often invited to movie screenings that the SAG Foundation is sponsoring. In a recent serties, I found an opportunity to see a preview of “The White Countess,” with a Q&A session with Natasha Richardson afterward.

It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen the film, and I’m still a bit torn by it. The plot is as follows:

Ralph Fiennes plays Todd Jackson, a blind, debauched, former diplomat who now spends his time in the various seedy bars of Shanghai. His ambition is to create the perfect dive, a combination of the fashionable, the political, the tragic and the decadent. He meets his establishment’s muse in Sofia (Natasha Richardson), a former White Russian countess who fled the Bolshevik revolution and now works as a taxi-driver and sometime prostitute to make ends meet for her family. On the eve of World War II, it is Sofia who rekindles the spark of pride and dignity in Jackson just as the Japanese invade the province.
- from IMDB

The story itself was intriguing. I felt as if the plotline could have made for a decent flick. Unfortunately, I think that the film tried a bit too hard to be an Oscar film, and not a good movie.

First of all, the script seemed to have so much emotional impact in its story that Fiennes’ character did not have to be blind. In fact, I think that his blindness not only created an acting challenge for everyone involved in the cast, but served to disconnect some members of the audience. While some moviegoers will be moved even further by the fact that he’s blind, it’s easy to forget that we connect with our film stars through their eyes. When their eyes are completely blank, our feelings toward them will probably mimic that.

The movie, on the whole, is a bit too English for me. Not that I don’t enjoy English actors (in fact, I find them to be some of the best), but there’s something about UK-based films (excluding Harry Potter) that kind of turn me off. One of the major differences between US and UK acting styles is the use of human emotion. I feel like English films are more dialogue based, while American films are more emotional. This film, which would have worked well as an emotional movie, played instead as text heavy.

Let’s put it this way — at one point during the film, I leaned over to my friend Christian and said, “Dude, shit needs to start blowing up right now… or I’m gonna freak.” An hour later, things did start blowing up… and it didn’t make a difference.

That’s not even mentioning the guy next to Christian who fell asleep twenty minutes in, and didn’t wake up until Natasha Richardson’s Q & A session afterward.

White Countess will definitely get some Oscar buzz, so if that’s your thing… by all means, go for it. Otherwise, this movie is best served as a “I-want-to-rent-a-movie-but-I’ve-seen-everything-else-in-this-video-store” kind of film.

Regardless of how entertaining it is, it’ll probably get Ralph Fiennes an Academy Award.
**EDIT (6-3-06) :: Wow, how wrong was that? Strange too, as blind is usually a shoe-in for at least an Oscar nomination. Allright… maybe I was off on the Oscar, but maybe he’ll get the Tony for “Faith Healer.”

I’m not entirely sure why I hadn’t seen this film as of yet. I mean, every major English actor ever makes an appearance here (I think I even saw Sir Laurence Olivier’s ghost being used as an extra), so it wasn’t the cast. Love’s one of my favorite emotions, so it certainly wasn’t the subject matter. I think it was the timing of the film’s release, as I worked for Loews Cineplex at the time, and I didn’t want to put in any “extra hours,” if you know what I mean.

The aforementioned all-star English cast did a fantastic job with an ultimately pleasant film. It’s a commercially-aimed love story (or stories, if you will) with just enough artistic integrity to remain bearable. I even enjoyed Hugh Grant, whom I usually detest.

What’s interesting is that this film both benefits and is hurt by its lacking in the resolution department. Sure, we see Hugh Grant’s character get his woman (whom admittedly is a far better choice than Divine Brown), but many things are left to the imagination. Whatever happened to Laura Linney’s character in the end? How about Alan Rickman’s — did he remain faithful to his wife? While, in part, I think that the lack of a clear-cut conclusion is annoying (because, after all, I’m from the U.S. — I like my films to be spoon-fed to me)… I realize that the cliffhanger endings are what separates this artistic film from run-of-the-mill American cinematic tripe.

“Love Actually” is an entertaining film that’s definitely worth it. Rent it this holiday season — it’s a perfect Christmastime date flick!

Choosing a career in the acting field, it’s a good thing that I have a profound enjoyment of Broadway theatre. Even more than I like Broadway theatre however, I like free Broadway theatre. That’s why I decided to jump at the chance to see Chitty Chitty Bang Bang for no charge.

I had never seen the movie before, but I knew enough to know that it had some sort of flying car in it that Dick Van Dyke flew around. I also knew, while walking into the Hilton Theatre, that Raul Esparza (whom I was familiar with due to his phenomenal singing as Riff Raff in the cast recording of Broadway’s recent Rocky Horror Show) stars in the Broadway adaptation of the famous children’s flick.

What I did not know, however, was that a pack of M&Ms costs $4 once inside the building. Fuck that.

I guess I should refrain from using coarse language in a review of a children’s show… shouldn’t I? I apologize for that.

I didn’t walk in to Chitty expecting a great piece of theatre, and I’m rather glad I didn’t. This show uses extremely elaborate and colorful sets, constantly moving props, and live animals to mask the fact that it lacks substance overall. But, let’s face it, this show was made for kids… and I’m sure that if parents would have brought their kids instead of dragging them to Wicked, one or two of them might have been able to pay attention long enough to enjoy it.

That is, until some of the actors took the stage. I personally found Raul Esparza to be particularly amazing, in his acting, singing, and his dancing (pictured below)… although I’ve heard a few rumblings about the accuracy of his British accent. I also loved the actors who portrayed Goran and Boris, and their number “Act English,” which I’m sure went over most people’s heads (most people who don’t have constant contact with the English, that is). Unfortunately, Chip Zien was not performing the night I saw the show — it would have been a treat to see him on stage.

As far as the acting is concerned, I have two names that should be dedicated to memory — Marc Kudisch and Jan Maxwell. In their respective roles of the Baron and the Baroness, they completely stop the show with “Chu-Chi Face” and burn the place to the ground with “The Bombie Samba.” Absolutely outstanding.

I didn’t particularly enjoy Kevin Cahoon’s Childcatcher, which I heard was one of the best parts of the show. I felt that this Childcatcher was a bit on the borderline between plain creepy and homosexual… making him less of a fictional character and more Michael Jackson-esque. Speaking of actors I didn’t like… how about Erin Dilly? The fact that she was nominated for a Tony for Best Actress is, quite frankly, embarrassing.

The true star of this show is that damned car. I’ve got to admit, a huge smile lit up on my face as I saw the thing take flight. I was extremely impressed by the theatrics of it. When it first took flight, I struggled hard with myself to not try and figure out how it was happening. Upon its second departure, I was actually looking for the device that gave it flight, and (to my surprise) could not find it. You’ve gotta love that Boradway magic.

In short, if you can pick up free (or extremely cheap) tickets to Chitty, it’s worth a chance… especially since it vacates the Hilton Theatre on the 31st of December. Certainly don’t pay full price, and don’t pay $4 for M&Ms either!