Super Secret November Challenge Blog Post #5

Drinkers Drinking 

Tonight, I went out. I was two glasses of wine in before I remembered that I had vegetarian vegetable soup and a handful of wheat chex to sustain, not just the alcohol, but an entire day. Oops. And so I realized it was time to get some mashed potatoes up in this bitch, drink a glass of water, and make my old lady excuses, and go home. Plus I was in a rush to get home and blog just in time. 

I picked up my wedding dress today. It was all going well; I ran into a former student who helped me try on my dress while catching me up on her college career... and then she immediately inquired as to whether I was still doing theatre or not. She was one of two people who asked me this in a span of 6 hours.

Aww.... geez, louise, you GUYS. 

You guys. I am a professional actor in Birmingham, Alabama. I may not always be doing theatre, but yes, I am still "doing theatre". I have no other profession to claim, other than my "scramble to" jobs. 

It is a little disconcerting to be like "Oh no, I usually work about 6 months out of the year, maybe more or less, depending on what's available, and the rest of the time I just pull together other work while holding imaginary tea parties with all my famous friends, Stella Adler (she's a book) and Dobby the cat. 

I hate to knock the theatre scene here, but holy tap dancing lord, doesn't anyone else get tired of talking about how talented everyone is here, and then glossing over how we just completely disregard that talent? I know people who were honest to god theatre majors who have done nothing but work for free since they graduated. And part of me admires their passion. The other part of me wants to shake them and ask, "Don't you know you are better than that? At least do enough work to repay the amount of money you dropped for a degree. A degree, for crying out loud!"

But then, the rest of me goes,"Girl. It is not your life. Just let them be them and stop being so damn selfish." Because, you guys. It is selfishness that motivates these feelings. Frankly, from my humble observations, the reason this community  has just coasted along a horizontal trajectory for the past twenty years without any real, significant upward movement, is because we have not demanded to be treated like professionals. 

I'm sorry, but once you drop a ton of time and money into training and marketing yourself, then child, you better start acting like you are worth the money you put out. How is it Florida, Tennessee, Georgia are all crawling with nationally recognized theatres, and all we have is Alabama Shakespeare Festival, a theatre mainly filled New York transplants? Do we not value ourselves more? Do we not see ourselves as worthy as Franklin Fucking Tennessee, who has their own acclaimed professional theatre company?

Now, clearly, we do have professional, acclaimed theatre companies here in town, bless them and the wonderful work they've given me, but you guys. If Birmingham is going to move up in the world, then we have to step up our arts game. Every major city in the country has a thriving arts and theatre community. They all have at least one major, professional, year round, nationally recognized theatre company. 

We are trying. I see us trying. What is holding us back? Please forgive me for this, but is it because we have a community that cannot differentiate between community and professional theatre? In such a tiny town as ours, I am not saying one is always better than the other. One major reason, is because we have actors crossing back and forth over the line, from professional to community. And I don't blame them. Since moving back to Birmingham, 6 years ago, I have worked for free only two or three times. Because! I was given an opportunity at roles I really wanted, and I wasn't sure if any of the three professional theatres in town were ever going to offer that same opportunity to me. And I am only EMC at this point, so why the hell not? It is good to do a little "on the job" training every now and then, to remember why you're here, to only be motivated by passion rather than a paycheck. 

That being said. What we do, is work. It is a profession. It is a job and should be treated as such. You wouldn't ask any other profession to work for free/for exposure, nonstop, would you? If you are a professional actor working for free, stop. Look at what you're doing. Are you doing this the way a lawyer would take a pro bono case, or are you doing this the way a desperate girl answering modeling ads on craigslist would? 

You guys, Birmingham is better than this. We are better than this. The talent in this town, deserves better. 

And while we're at it, I would like to address, just for a moment, the inherent sexism, even in small town theatre. In our city, we are overrun with actresses. Female directors, producers, theatre managers? Not so much. And that is okay, if there truly are not any women here who have an ounce of desire to be in charge... but I have observed so many actresses here who are infinitely outsmarting the director on a regular basis, but they don't see it. Ladies. There is nothing in this world wrong with only wanting to be an actress,  but there is also nothing wrong with wanting to be more. How many male directors in this city, in the WORLD, started off as actors and then followed their gut feeling that they would better suited to running the show rather being told where to stand, how to look, how to act? 

Why is it the majority of actresses in this town don't have that gut feeling? It is not just because we love being in front of the audience rather than behind the scenes. Obviously, being in charge of a theatre has not held any men back from also fulfilling their desire to be on the stage as well. There is a meekness, a quiet submissiveness, that is bred in actresses. Good actors listen, they take direction, they say "yes sir" and don't ask too many questions that could contradict the directors vision because then all you're doing is wasting everyone's time, right? How could you not feel inferior after having that instilled in you from your first day at musical theatre camp? 

Yet somehow, more women than men cling to this idea that being a beacon of silent obedience is the closest they will get to being a working professional in theatre. It is hard for a woman to stand her ground without being called a nag, a bitch, a has-been, and, worst of all, a diva... Not the fun diva. The diva who works according to her standards and never says "I'm sorry" before asking a question (which yes, I have already done at least once in this post). The diva who says "you're welcome" in response to "thank you for..." instead with an overly sincere "Aww, Thank Yooouuuuu!!". It is different for men in this profession, and if you haven't realized it, then sister, you better start taking a good look around. For a community that is so progressive and accepting, this should not be happening. And I'm not saying that there has to be an exactly equal amount of women and men running the show in any theatre community, but there shouldn't be this amount of quiet subservience. Broaden your view of what you are capable of, ladies. And gents. And everyone.

Anywho, that was my late night, two glasses of wine, old lady tangent. Ruminate on it, Trixies and Tricksters. Theatre: can we do it, 21st Century? 

Everything I need to know about being a lady, I learned from Patrick Swayze

Ah, the Swayze. That mysterious unicorn that graced the earth with his presence for a short while to be the ultimate example of masculinity AND femininity. Mr "Pain Don't Hurt" Dalton and Miss "I'm stripping you of your princess points" Vida Boheme. The only person I believe my bf would potentially leave me for, if it were possible.

LOVE: Morton Salt Umbrella Girl

In 1998, Morton Salt celebrated their 150th year.

Two hours ago as I was refilling my lovebird salt shaker, I celebrated my love of the Morton Salt Umbrella Girl.

She's gone through a lot of changes over the years. My favorite Morton girl is the most current. She's cute, in that mod/innocent style that adorned little girls in the sixties and currently adorn the 20 to 30-something crowd of "quirky" ladies everywhere. (Part of me loves the fashion; the other part is longing to buy those ladies an office outfit from their local Ross "Dress For Less" and demand that they wear it at least once a week...) For a brief moment, I was struck with the idea of possibly dressing as my salty sweetheart for Halloween. However, it seems I am waaaaaay late to that party. Girls of all ages have already latched onto that idea and made it cuter and cooler looking than I could even imagine.

Not only is she a popular Halloween costume, she's appeared on a few arms, on billboards, on etsy as some pretty adorable jewelry and art , and also in other craft and vintage finds.

She's even been the subject of some popular bands (neat) and pornography (errrghhh).

The little Salt Girl has been an inspiring piece of American advertising for almost a century and is by far my favorite. She's blazed a trail across the years, leaving behind a legacy of salted dinners, deiced sidewalks and melted slugs in her wake. She's the most bad ass girl of American advertisement.

Take that, Mrs. Butterworth.


(Oh my god, I take it back. We've had so many good times, Mrs Butterworth, and I love you just as much. Let's never fight again.)

Is it time to forgive Napoleon Dynamite?

Somewhere around the 200th "Vote For Pedro" Hot Topic shirt and 300th conversation that ended with someone kicking the ground and exclaiming "Gaaahhhhd", we all came to the same conclusion... we could no longer stand that little independent hit, Napoleon Dynamite. And so, for the past several years, we've put it out of our heads and replaced it with a dozen other obnoxious sleeper hits.

But now the question is, has enough time passed that we can forgive NP all it's transgressions and appreciate the finer qualities? Okay, Jon Heder's performance can still grate enough cheese to feed an entire Olive Garden lunch crowd. And the dialogue is still more quirky than Zooey Deschanel and Diablo Cody combined. That being said, I can still appreciate most of the supporting cast and the overall design - it's very deliberate and serves the film very well.

Plus, I have to admit - my favorite character, Uncle Rico, still holds up. And the actor who portrays him, Jon Gries, is one of those great character actors that you may recognize as the werewolf from The Monster Squad

Right before we find out that werewolves do indeed have nards.

or as Lazlo from one of the best movies ever, Real Genius,

He's smart, and he'll let you borrow his pajamas.

 as well as a billion other projects. He's just one of a those actors who consistently work and are occasionally recognized, but remain nameless to the general public.

I suppose that I am positing this question of re-examining Napoleon Dynamite purely for old Uncle Rico. And let's face it: we all know that a couple of generations from now, some kids will discover this film and love it in an ironic way and shower it with that special love that only exists after being hit by a wave of glorious nostalgia, and it will be worshiped by audiences who never had to sit on a train surrounded by teenagers who proceeded to quote the same five lines from the film over and over AND OVER again while you sat there in the summer heat waiting for drunk and sweaty Cubs fans to get off the red line already.

So let's reclaim this sucker. Let's reclaim it without quoting it constantly, without dressing up as one of the characters for Halloween, without buying silk screened tshirts featuring our favorite character. Reclaim it quietly, friends. Not for Napoleon. But for Uncle Rico and the rest of the cast who didn't make us want to put our heads through a wall and for that art team that must have spent countless hours trying to find new ways to put red, orange and blue together.

Reclaim it quietly.

Subtle grace and dignity.

Get all up in my business (or - What I've been up to)

Here it is - my morning off, after a weekend of performances and 12 hour rehearsal days... and yet I  have been up cleaning since about 7am. I am not sure what is more freakish - that I am awake after so little sleep, or that I am cleaning. Shudder.

Since I do have a date with my bed, I am keeping this short and sweet and to the point.

I have one more week of Alice left at the BCT. It has been an interesting and fun run, and a beautiful show to boot - I liked everyone I worked with, and that is always a blessing in the theatre world.

I also open Singing In The Rain this Thursday. If you wanna know what's up, then you really ought to get your sweet can down to the RMTC Cabaret theatre and check it out (ticket info here). I seriously sit offstage in all my Lina furs and sparkle watching the tap numbers with a big idiot grin on my face. No foolin'.

Photo from last weekend's umbrella/ticket giveaway in Railroad Park

If you want updates of both, including photos and promotional videos (and of course, random status updates and things I find on the interweb that I deem important*), please friend me on facebook and follow me on twitter!



*cat videos, mostly

It's not that I don't love you...

It is just that my life has been full of theatre, doctors' appointments, medical tests, cat scans and sleeping whenever I get a chance. I promise that I will post a full run down of the magical medical adventures of Jessica Clark, as some people were concerned as to whether or not I was okay (This in: tests show no brain tumor. Yay! But my head still may explode. Boo.), but I will save that for later.

Instead I will shameless promote yet another musical where I dance in my underwear and use a funny accent. THE BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE IN TEXAS!!

You shoot on the Yee, not the Haw.

It has been a fun experience and has made me happier than a rich Texan. If I owned guns, I'd be shootin' them in the air, yelling "YeeHaw!".

We got a five star review, thank y'all very much. There's even a shout out to yours truly. And the audiences have loved it too, I tell you what! Tickets have been going fast for this one and there is only one more weekend to purchase them. So get on it if you are in the Birmingham area, or just love theatre road trips.

I mean it now. Pull those boots up, put away your nervous pants, and come on out for a little harmless fun. You can't just stay home watching the Dolly Parton film version (although Charles Durning has a very entertaining number in it). I didn't study all those King of the Hill episodes for nothing. So have a beer and pretend it's a Lonestar and come on down to the theatre.

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas (with sad movies)

The apartment has exploded with Christmas. But not in the, "Oh, you just caught me lounging around in my catalogue worthy living room, with my designer garland draped ever-so-elegantly over my mantle, and tiny little polar bear cubs playing in my winter wonderland atrium in the background". No, it is more like Target and the Dollar Store had an ugly half-priced holiday craft baby, and is complimented by the afterbirth of half full plastic bins overflowing with old cards and hand me down ornaments.

Among the piles of seasonal memorabilia I dug up were all of my Christmas movies and number of childhood favorites. On VHS, friends! No dvd Charlie Brown for me! As I was going through the list of films I found, I was reminded of one of the few clouds that hangs over my current relationship.

Me: Hey! The Never Ending Story!
The BF: Ugh, I hate that movie.
Me: Why?
The BF: It's too sad. That poor horse.
Me: Well, he comes back in the end.
The BF: I don't care.
Me: Oooh, here's Prancer.
The BF: Too sad.
Me: Willow?
The BF: Pffft.
Me: Hook?
The BF: Too sad.
Me: Ugh, Annie.
The BF: I love that movie!

 I began to realize something. Gremlins, Ghost Busters, The Monster Squad, The Princess Bride, Who Framed Roger Rabbit - are, obviously, all awesome movies, but are also the only ones welcome for display on our Target bookcase. The "Too Sad" films stay stuck in storage.

Um. Why?

I've accepted that the Bf has a strong aversion to movies that are too sad. For example, he has vowed to never watch  Fried Green Tomatoes ever again. Not because of it's supposed affiliation with other popular "chick flicks", but because he isn't emotionally strong enough to handle the end of Idgie and Ruth's friendship. (By the by, according to him, FGT is one of the best  fims ever on the subject of friendship. Period. But still - too. sad.)

So why am I not driven away by these kind of movies? Surely not because of my lady emotions and a need for a good lady cry every now and then. No, I genuinely enjoy them. I am not saddened by them. Frankly, why should I be? Is it so awful that a children's fantasy would be honest about the fact that, even in the prime of your carefree youth, life still blows?

In fact, life, in it's own way, is even worse when you're a kid. There is a pretty harsh introduction to the reality of man, there is the discovery of death and how that sucks balls, children start develop their own crappy prejudices, and then, worst of all, we abruptly realize there is no real magic on earth; that everything you thought just happened by it's own mystical accord, has an explanation- and often not a good one.

Get it together, you pansy ass pony!

Like so many kids, I was forced to grow up too fast. There were several instances in my teens where the loss of my childhood hit me over the head so hard that I would burst into tears. Yes, I was being inducted into the world of antidepressants due to my artsy fartsy emotions, but it still really hurt to realize: My childhood was over. I'd never get a second chance to try and make it as ideal as so many movies suggested it should be.

I mean, even films that touched upon more painful realities had a tendency to gloss them over and keep the tone light, funny and exciting. But even in the most ideal homes, there is a constant underlying sadness and/or frustration in every child's life. That's fine. That "sadness" is often what pushes us to find happiness and to develop the more generous, the more empathetic parts of our nature.

Alright, yes- there is a somber note to the storage films. There are upsetting realities and even some devastating scenes. But, like Atreyu's horse, Artax, if you let the "Swamps of Sadness" overpower you, you will drown in them. As children, most of us learn to not only accept that there is sadness, but to cultivate an ability to not let it ruin our perception of reality. Sadness and magic, for a brief moment, find a way to co-exist.

That is why my Christmas movie recommendation for this year is the movie Prancer. Yes, you better watch all of my other faves, Home Alone, Christmas Story, Christmas Vacation and of course, Muppet Christmas Carol, but I say strap on an emotionally mature pair and settle down for some quality time with a magical reindeer and your 2nd favorite bouncer, Sam Elliott (1st favorite being Patrick Swayze, duh!).

In my humble opinion, the film pretty perfectly captures the problem with our idea of childhood. Spoilers ahead, for those who haven't yet seen the movie. There is one scene in particular, where the main character, a girl named Jessica (a rockin' name for a main character, if I do say so myself) has climbed on top of a tall cage in the middle of a snowstorm to release the reindeer she believes to be Prancer, who she is convinced will fly out as soon as she pries open the top of the pen. In one heartbreaking moment, you see all of her dreams and beliefs cruelly dashed as her magical friend fails to perform. As she is trying to climb back down, she slips and falls- hitting her head and blacking out.

When she comes to, she is in her bedroom. Her father, who she has been at odds with ever since the death of her mother and who has been discussing sending her off to live with her aunt, has bought the reindeer and plans to take her out to the woods so they can release him, allowing him to return to the North Pole. However, little Jessica, who survived the death of her mother, who has stomached the emotional absence of her father, has finally had bitterness of reality hit her over the head... so to speak. There is no magic. The reindeer is just a reindeer. In the following scene, her father reads to her a selection from the famous letter, Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus, and admits he can't promise that things are going to always be okay. But he loves her and needs her home with him.

It's a beautiful scene, wrapped in sentimentality as it is. It is where we realize that even though life is hard and  the fairy tales we hear as children aren't real, there is still a deeper and more mysterious and beautiful magic out there- the magic of love, friendship, imagination and everything unseen, but as real and common as breathing.




So you see, friends! No need to fear the "sad fantasy movies". If anything, they are quite uplifting. They show us what wonderful and resilient creatures we are in our youth.  If you saw the movie Finding Neverland, there is another great scene where, in spite of grief, or perhaps because of it- the main character is able to see the "magical world" that adults aren't able to see. It is one of the amazing qualities we possess as children - our ability to see the real world, and the ethereal one. Yes, sadness exists, even when you're an innocent. But so does magic- whether it's the magic of a flying reindeer, a book that transports you to a alternate world, a gang of monsters that only you and your friends can defeat, or the magic of life itself.

And then he said, "I kinda like being directionless" (pretentious post ed.)

I spent the morning/afternoon playing music catch up and hanging curtains in an un-traditional manner.  (Why must all curtain rods be hung with screws? It is a rather bold assumption that everyone owns a screw gun, which is the only way to get those little shits up. In short, screw screws.) 

In the past, I've confessed to being a music junkie, and I'm sharing my favorite finds of the morning. I've also been accused of being a music snob... Well, that's just because no one gets me. Man, I am so, like, deep and unique.

I have sometimes wondered if I do come across as too pretentious. I can't imagine that I do, given my penchant for fart jokes (farting preacher, anyone?) and utter disdain for pretension and arrogance in general. However, if I have ever made anyone feel like I was belittling them or their tastes- I apologize. Unless you had really crappy taste and in that case, you should truly be thankful for my help. I mean, really. (jokes, everyone!) But, for true-  if ever I wax a little too full of myself and my interests, then I will kindly remind everyone that I spent a good  chunk of college listening to nothing but classic and corporate rock pf the 70's and 80's and 90's rap and soft soft, gooey chewy cheesy rock with complete sincerity while seeing how long I could balance cans of Spaghettios on my tummy and watching mst3k. Who knew how to rock a Friday night? This girl!


However, spending hours upon hours in a tour van has taught me a thing or too about controlling my "Ughh, lame!" reaction when other people plug in their iPods/Phones and start belting out to, I dunno, Lady Gaga, or some country band whose name I can't remember, or some wah wah male singer beloved by sorority and youth group girls alike... That's when I have to remind myself to not get a little too big for my musical britches. But it is hard to not want to find a way to gently explain why I believe a certain song or artist is over produced, over played and under talented- because  if I did, then that would just sound like I should be wandering through an Urban Outfitters, purchasing house goods and thinking, "Wow, this wall mounted beer opener shaped like a drunk owl is one of a kind- even though there are 30 more on display, right next to the shelf of monogrammed flasks with ironic and asshole-ish sayings".  This is when I use that trick of saying to myself

"Jess Because, remember when your favorite song was What About Love by Heart?"

and that usually keeps me on the right track. Plus, it is still an awesome song and then I just want to stick on my headphones and amaze people with my Ann and Nancy Wilson impressions.

Hey, how about we get this music party started? I welcome you readers to come up with a fall themed title for this selection of songs, if you choose to download it.

Austra - Lose It 

The Dø - Slippery Slope

Tokyo Police Club - Party In The USA

Mister Heavenly - Pineapple Girl

Nikki & The Dove - The Fox

Stevie Jackson - Man of God

My Brightest Diamond - Reaching Through To The Other Side

Bjork - Cosmogony


Here is a band that I have been a youtube fan of for years. They've gone through a few members, but truthfully I haven't followed them closely enough to know the back story to all of this. Thankfully, though, they are still making awesome videos.


This little lady  has popped up with her great music and her pouty face that makes all the boys silently curse buying such tight jeans. But for real, the music is top notch.



What is some of your favorite new music? Please share!

What I've Been Up To

I told you all I'd be a bit of a ghost on my old blog, and I reckon I have fulfilled my promise! What has been eating up all my time? Well:

THE WILD PARTY at Virginia Samford Theatre. Singing, dancing, and rubbing my secret all over some very lucky guys. Musical theatre, kids! Dirty, raunchy, jazz filled musical theatre! Read our four star review here and come on out next weekend! Details here.


My day job has been far more tame, but just as fun- for the real kiddies (and some very silly adults like myself).

THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW at Birmingham Children's Theatre. It's silly AND spooky - the best of both worlds. Be sure to come out to the family days the weekend before Halloween, where al.com is sponsoring a costume contest for the kids. Plus I drag my petticoated self up to the lobby for autographs! Details here. Don't live in the Birmingham area? Never fear- we're taking this show on the road. We'll be in Florida all next week and back in 'Bama, then on up to North Carolina... and so on and so forth until  December 9th. Check with your local theatres to see if we're stopping by!!


Now that all that shameless self promotion is over, I am glad to tell you starting this week, I'll have a new post every week, at least until I start coming home from my morning shows, still covered in stage makeup, sulking in the corner and glaring up at my laptop from under my false eyelashes. Be proactive- that is my goal. Proactive. Proactive Proactive Proactive.  (Hopefully this works out better than the acne cleanser of the same name)

Hello Gorgeous

Warning: This is a musical theatre post. I call Barbra Streisand "Babs" and I talk about belting and a woman named Fanny, with absolutely no irony and no attempt to hide the light of my musical loving heart under a bushel. If it is too much for you, I understand. I'll smell you next round!

I am a big old geek for Funny Girl. I know, it is beyond cliche', that the awkward and silly theatre girl would love that big Babs-filled musical about the tragic comedienne, Fanny Brice - but there you have it. I love the mess out of it, and yes, my heart breaks for Fanny, and yes, I have stood my underwear in my bedroom at 2am and sung the title song, with tears streaming down my face, amazed at my own brilliance- until the cat comes around the corner and stares up at me with "What fresh hell is this?" eyes.

I have heard tell that there is a revival, starring Ms Lauren Ambrose, of Six Feet Under fame. Like most people, I am surprised, but very interested to see what she'll bring to the table. And here is a little bit of truth telling, followed by an explanation, and then I am moving on. I am so very glad that we dodged the Glee bullet. Now, this may steam some people's mustaches to hear that I am not a fan of Lea Michelle's seemingly neverending campaign to play this role, but frankly, I am not interested in shallow Barbra Streisand imitations. Perhaps this is a conscious choice on the behalf of Ms Michelle, seeing how she is currently playing a naive teenager with stars in her eyes and a pop rendered showtune in her heart. Most teenage actors start out imitating a performance instead of interpreting a character. So, I'll give her the benefit of a doubt that this was what she is trying to capture- nonetheless, I am super happy I do not have to witness her pull faces and fake tears throughout "My Man"*.

I really can't blame young actresses wanting to claim a little bit of that original performance for their own. It truly was iconic. But honestly- have you seen/heard the real Ms Fania Borach, aka Fanny Brice? Several of the songs in the musical, Funny Girl, were real standards of Ms Brice's. For true!

A quick background for those of you who don't know what the doo doo I am talking about: Fanny Brice was a real woman.She was a comedienne, singer, theater, film and radio actress in the early part of the 20th century. She was most famous for her time spent as a performer in the Ziegfeld Follies and her radio career that she had up until her death at age fifty nine.

Thirteen years later, a young unknown named Barbra Streisand blew everyone away with her portrayal of Ms Brice in the stage and later film musical, Funny Girl, which centered on Fanny's rise to fame, while her personal and romantic life tragically crumbled around her. Like any biopic/musical- it was expanded upon and fictionalized, but one thing was definitely true - Fanny spent most of her adult years in love with a gentleman who was more sponge than man. I'm telling ya- look it up. It is not uncommon that a successful comedienne would have a tragic love life, but Fanny's is the most famous story and to this day, the title song still kills me.


Please, find me a character actress who hasn't felt like Fanny in her personal life at least once and I will buy you drink. Two drinks, even. I know I have come out of a few relationships with this song lodged in the back of my mind. Sue me. (Please don't sue me. Blood, turnips, you get the picture.)

A few months ago I found a copy of one of Ms Brice's comedy albums based on her most famous character, Baby Snooks, but was unable to purchase it at the time. Thanks to the interweb and youtube, however, I can dig up all of her old hits, performed by the funny girl herself.

These are ones that also appear in the musical Funny Girl. It is interesting not so much to compare the two performances, but to see how Streisand took these original numbers and filled them out, while still staying true to the real person.

   

And of course, I would be loath to neglect to mention her most famous number, "My Man". The depth of feeling presented in this one song truly allows you into her private life, where things simply were not that "funny".



Years after her death, Barbra Streisand took this song, made it her own heart wrenching and belt-tastic number, and a legend was (re)born...  





*This makes the bold assumption that I could ever afford to go see this production. Oh- poverty** and insomnia has made me delusional.
**Poverty, she says. I've got my coffee and my netflix. I'll stop exaggerating my need for money. Unless you feel compelled to donate some. Well hey then, I'll gladly break out my Dickensian garb and do bell kicks while you drop coins into my pay pal account. Thank yer. Thank yer kindly.

Right Over My Ears (and eyes)

Hiya. Not much to post, except to share videos/bands that you may have missed in the past few years (several of which I am just now noticing myself). Or you totally already noticed all of these and now feel slightly culturally superior to me, which is perfectly okay.



PANDA BEAR "Surfer's Hymn" from m ss ng p eces on Vimeo.
2011 Panda Bear, who you have probably already taken notice of for a few years now, proves that beachy dream pop simply will. not. die. But we don't mind so much (for now).


2011 There is quite a bit of glitter in this- which I fully support.


2010 I can't say with certainty that this wasn't  made by a couple of high school drama rejects (speaking as a former hs drama reject myself). Whatever. It's cute, the song is catchy and I missed it when it came out last year.


2008 I don't know how everyone feels about house music (it is not necessarily my cup of tea) but this video is undeniably beautiful and committed to it's tone and style -  90's house and "Disco Revolution".


2006 Good gravy. This completely fell under my radar and I suspect everyone else's... I could be wrong. But I really kind of like this. Kind of. Really.

 

Saying "Smell You Later" to my mid twenties

In the these last few weeks where I have been wrapping up my mid twenties, I have

1. Worked. I mean, as an artist. In my field. Kinda sorta.

I mean, I did some voice over work and I have been, once again, teaching theatre to kids age 6 to 17. Specifically, I taught the younger kids dance and I have been teaching movement, voice/diction and Shakespeare to the older ones. Surprisingly, the class I have had the least trouble with so far is Shakespeare. I know, color me shocked. Perhaps it was because it was scheduled before dance and I hadn't yet begun to use my outdoor voice for an hour straight, leaving me with a sore throat and a sour disposition.

Dance was a nightmare. Now, disregarding the fact that I am no dancer by any stretch of the imagination (outside of picking up basic jazz/musical theater moves and being an enthusiastic wedding floor dancer) I figured I could piece together a solid minute and a half of step touches and jazz squares for a group of elementary school kids. How wrong I was.

First of all, every child is the world is apparently suffering from ADHD, not just the poor souls who are actually literally suffering from it and struggling to keep up with the rest of the class. I had to threaten these kids within an inch of their lives to keep them on task for more than 20 seconds at a time. I can't tell you how many times I said

"If you don't all start your Elbow Macaroni Dance at the same time, you'll be behind for the Grapevine. Now get with the program or you're out of the dance! Starting. With. Zombie. Hands... 5,6,7,8...."

It wasn't until I cut half the dance and told them they had no one to blame but themselves, that they finally shut up and gave me some semblance of attention. Of course, by that point I had already made the youngest one cry and turned the oldest kid into He-man Woman-Hater who looked like he wanted to rip off my limbs and shove them down the organ pipes while he played Baby Elephant Walk.

Miraculously though, we made it through alive and by the time they performed their dance for their parents on Friday, they were at least able to trip over each other and look totally lost on beat and in their assigned line. They ultimately had a good time, the parents adored it, everyone was happy. Plus, the one move they got right was directly from the music video of the song we used, Birdhouse In Your Soul (the one that looks like robot arms into a waist bend)- so I was satisfied.



This week, I only had to contend with the older kids, which was far less of a headache, and actually quite enjoyable at times, outside of dealing with some "teenage moments".

I think the problem is, I am an actress. I am a teacher strictly based on my need for money. There are times when I adore working with students and sometimes nothing can be more rewarding than watching someone have a breakthrough after hours, days, weeks of work.

But truly, I just want to act. Which would explain why in addition to doing radio spots and teaching this past month, I have also been going to every regional/professional theatre audition I can drag my poor, mostly unemployed self out to.

This is when I ask myself:  Why can't I have other dreams? It is a curse.

Let me rephrase slightly. It is a curse when you come from a background that cannot financially support you while you pursue acting full time, therefore leading you off into working in fields that are totally unrelated to your line of study/interest just so you can stay afloat and ultimately causing you to lose some of your peak audition years to various soul sucking desk jobs and when you finally cut loose and throw yourself back into the "cattle call" game, you are rusty, older, broke and always on the verge of taking yet another job you hate just so you'll have food and shelter for you and your diabetic cat and also so you can get a break from constantly feeling like a boil on the butt of humanity, because no one understands that while it is certainly hard to get a "regular" job and takes persistence, pursuing a career in acting takes a special kind of masochistic maniac because it is damn near imfuckingpossible to land gigs with a theatre you've never worked with before because it all who you know and  how much experience you have, which at this point is not much because you had no choice but to work aforementioned desk jobs because you didn't have the support from real parents or sugar parents that you needed to travel around from audition to audition, and it all has very little to do with your actual talent, and as a result you just look like a lazy, untalented piss-ant turkey. 

Plus you find yourself going off on bitter and tacky ramble-filled, run on sentence tangents - and no
one wants to put up with that kind of drama.

Hey, wasn't I making a list?

2. I also tried to boil some eggs, but promptly forgot that I had started to do so - which resulted in some cool sounding explosions in my kitchen and a foul after stench of burnt yokes.

I turn 28 on Sunday and after some reflection, I am sure that I am wiser and stronger- but none of that really matters. There is no way to be totally prepared for life - just being flexible is hard enough. Last year I had a "big girl" job, full time, benefits, yadda yadda yadda- and I was totally unhappy.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like a I'm a ball of sunshine with rainbows coming out of my butt right now and I am sure I am disappointing people left and right- but at least I am working on not disappointing myself. And I totally was disappointed with who I had become last year.

Therefore, I proclaim 28 to be the year I kick disappointment straight in the nuts. My first present to myself is to add to the never ending list of personal mantras.

Skinny. Successful. Smart.

Grow. Go. Girl. 

Crisi-tunity!

In the nuts, Disappointment!


I am a believer in the birthday mantra/resolution. You add a new one each year, and retire which ever one (ones) you feel have served their purpose.

So. What was your birthday mantra this year?

In which I have three glasses of wine and become a little too judgemental

There are two embarrassing things that I do that, normally, I would look down on- but it is better that I come out and admit them right now. (I know, only two?)

Note: This is not me. In case you were wondering.

1. This past winter/spring, I read all the Sookie Stackhouse books, because I wanted a really trashy escape from reality. It gets worse. I stopped reading The Dark Tower series (I'm still on Wizard and Glass) to read a series about (puke) sexy vampires. Now, this feels like a special sort of betrayal, especially since we all know how Mr King feels about vampire series. Well obviously, The Dark Tower series, while still pulpy in its own wonderfully composed way, is the far superior set of books. But I chose the one that True Blood is based off of. Why? Not necessarily because I have some urge to get my undead freak on (in fact, not because of that at all- sorry vampire fans), but because this southern fantasy melodrama seemed to revel in its own trashiness and that tickled me. Plus the series required little use of my brain, which was already pretty drained dry from my mindless job that left me only able to make it through a few hours of rehearsal before going into a vegetative state. The Sookie Stackhouse series- good for people in comas and zombies!
Speaking of.
If there is anything more obnoxious than vampires, it is zombies. Almost. I mean, how hard is it to get rid of those guys- and by "those guys", I mean the fans. I am sure there is a special room in hell where all this undying vampire/zombie phenomena is being born, but it would appear I have officially forfeited my right to complain about it all the first time I decided to drink a bottle of wine and plow through the first book in the Sookie Stackhouse series.

.... I might still complain a little.

2. My roommate walked in on me doing something incredibly embarrassing a few weeks ago. Something that a person in their right mind only does in private, away from the judging eyes of society. And no matter how much I tried to explain that it was something that I only do occasionally, my roommate now thinks I am a big old Gleek.

Yes. I watched the Glee. More than once. Several times. Last season AND this one. I'm sorry. I feel that I owe it to the 16 year old musical theatre dork JessBecause, who would have adored the series because she didn't know any better, to at least give it a fair shot. And while there are a lot of problems with the show, what with the autotuning, the annoying as fuck themed shows, the celebrity guests who are obviously trying to prove they are down to earth singer/actresses (more on this later), and the horrifyingly inconsistent plot/character development- I think the major problem is the show's producer, Ryan Murphy. You might remember that he was also behind the other show that was born pole vaulting over the shark, Nip/Tuck. I can't say that I ever was into it, despite the presence of a baby with lobster hands at some point (so I'm told), but it was another trashy escapist melodrama. One that I heard went from good-bad, to just plain bad a few seasons in.

Glee seems to suffer most from a producer who can't decide whether he wants a show that is campy or preachy. It seems to me, JessBecause, armchair psychiatrist, that he wants the show to be silly, bitchy, tongue in cheek fun, but he also wants to work through his own high school hang ups, via "Kurt" (also known as Babygay Kurt and now Saint Kurt), who is also the only character who has really been allowed some progression, mostly so he can become the show's main star/martyr.

The show started with a bunch of stereotypes- the jock(s), the fat girl, the bitchy gay boy, the bitchy white girl, the bitchy cheerleader(s), the obnoxious mini-diva, the bad boy, the big black girl, the homophobes, the wheelchair kid- and threw them into a giant jukebox musical tv show...

Side note. If there is a room in hell for the zombie/vampire mania, then there is an entire floor for jukebox musicals. No foolin'. I cannot think of anything more lazy than- "Hey, let's build a flimsy plot around a bunch of popular songs! We know people already like the music, so that way there's less risk, AND less work for us! High fives and red bull all around, D-bags!"- but there it is, an insanely popular movement on broadway and now on tv.

Getting back to what I was saying.
.... Threw them into giant jukebox musical tv show and then came up with unbelievably ridiculous and surprisingly predictable story lines around each character. Apparently the word 'round town is that the show has lost some of it's believability in the 2nd season, to which I reply- did you see the 1st season? Fake pregnancy. Repeat. Fake. Pregnancy. Anyway, I have given the show chance after chance, and here is what I propose to make it watchable (at least to me). Drop everyone except Stupid Brittney, Bitchy/babygay Kurt (sorry Saint Kurt- I prefer a flawed character to a martyr), Sexygay Blaine, and Sexydancy... Asian guy? I dunno, they didn't give him a name until the second season (seriously). Oh, and leave Jane Lynch and Steven Tobolowsky.  Apologies to the rest of the cast.You have talent, but someone decided that you were stuck with crappy, inconsistent characters. Blame them. Anywho, Glee! Let's choose between campy musical comedy or campy musical melodrama. Ditch the themed shows, and if you must have special guests, then you are only allowed to bring true musical theatre stars. Kristen Chenoweth, Idina Menzel, Carol Burnett- those were fine. Gwyneth Paltrow- no and now I'm finally returning toa point  I wanted to make.
Now. No one is denying that Gwyneth Paltrow is a talented woman and a hard worker... but her presence on the show looked like nothing but a publicity stunt.
Publicist: "Ms Paltrow, between your website that tells people where to buy their silver spoons and your refusal to acknowledge that you were born with one in your mouth, what with your famous parents and your "Uncle Steven" (as in Steven Spielberg) giving you your first movie role, you need come off more approachable and down to earth."
Gwyneth: "Well, I can sing. You heard me with Huey Lewis a few years ago. Get me on that show with the cartoonish high school stereotypes singing top 40 hits."
Publicist: "Done! Plus we'll get you in a movie about country music. If anyone is down to earth and relatable, it is country music singers. Now that autotune is available, anything is possible!"
Okay Glee, granted-  you allowed one of your main characters, Quinn, to be played by a strikingly beautiful girl with a grating, whispery speaking voice and a reed thin singing voice that has been so blatantly auto-tuned, but that doesn't mean you have to bring in guest stars who, if they really wanted to sing, should stay in the back row of their church choir where they belong- not when you actually do have truly remarkable, natural singers on your show.

Ugh. What a hot mess. I feel guilty for not only recognizing the show's flaws, but also for being unable to move past them. But every few months, I keep going back because I grew up on musicals and I sincerely do like some of the talent on the show, and I really do keep hoping that the show will resolve it's issues and become more enjoyable.

Ridiculous? Us?

But honestly. Until they take my suggestions into consideration, which obviously they will!, I will just have to stick with silly, consistent musical comedy tv shows with original music.

Super Post

While perusing the inserts of the Sunday edition of our local newspaper, I came across an article entitled

THE BEST SUPERHERO MOVIES OF ALL TIME!! (and the worst)

Oh yes, please. I enjoy a good superhero flick, just as much as the next person.

The list went a little something like this

                             GOOD                                                   BAD 

                    A couple of Batman movies                   A bunch of girl-hero movies

                    A Spiderman movie

Bwaugh? What the hell? What the fuck? What the fucking fuck? Why I have never, in all my years, been so appalled! Why, we ladies have many awesome lady heroes with which films are based around! 

What about one of the best-est and bad ass-est of them all, The Bride? What about her? Although, it isn't really a superhero movie per se... more of a revenge flick... I guess this rule applies to all lady-sploitation flicks.

Not a lady hero? Really?

But please, there are a ton of great female superheroes in film, like... The X-men ladies! Yes, those gals are really something.... even if they are ultimately overshadowed by Wolverines meat chops (superhero side burns). Crap, I reckon that includes even the un-traditional, but super awesome  (but supporting) sci fi and fantasy lady heroes, like Hermoine Granger, and Ripley, who is overshadowed by the big bad creature.

Begging your pardon, but I'm all kinds of awesome.

But, behold! My brainy, bad-ass-ed-ness!

Ugh... well, we always have... Wonder Woman. There you go, Wonder Woman- a super heroine and an icon in her own right. Even though, she is sort of viewed as camp- and really not on the same level as old Batman or even Superman... Plus, she was on tv.

Why won't anyone take me seriously?

And Good gravy, and let's not even talk about the hoards of sexy but stupid super lady video game movies. Bad scripts, bad accents, bad movies. All of them: Choppy, ridiculous and obnoxious.

Crap.

All right Hollywood- there's gotta be one, just one, spandex-ed, ass kicking, less tongue in cheek, more good vs evil, big budget, classic, all around great movie HEROINE that isn't a supporting character with a film named after her and solely about her out there. Not one? Not one that isn't regulated to the exploited, revenge, action, camp or "worst movie ever" genre? I love my Batmans, but come on.

Apparently, I am not the only one who has been thinking about this lately. It is a problem, people. A problem that, yes, is a direct result of a larger problem in film- where women (and people of color) are being overshadowed and are not equally represented. I once had a fellow movie nerd state that 2010 was a great year for women in film, but a lousy year for film. It was such an off hand, unintentionally insulting comment, that I couldn't really respond properly, without it sounding like I was a humorless bitch. If it was such a lousy year for film, then, in fact, it was NOT a good year for women in film. If the films with awesome lady characters were just so unremarkable, well then, what the hell good does that do? Good roles do occasionally exist in not so good films, but Great roles in Great films should go hand in hand. If a role is truly awesome, it is because the story around it is awesome. Not to say that actors do not give great performances in lousy movies- that is an entirely different discussion.

The first thing I would like to see an amazing, well received, instant classic super heroine film. Not a tv show- the ladies have actually had some good representation on the small screen thanks to the aforementioned Wonder Woman and others like Buffy and... and... Alias? There's a following for that, right? Even if W.W. and the Buffy were mostly camp, they still were tv super-lady icons with their own (major) tv shows. We just need one, just ONE on film. 

Just one, people.

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks? No thanks.

Tonight was supposed to be the opening night of a show I am in right now, Peter Shaffer's Amadeus.

It was pushed back to tomorrow night because, in case you hadn't heard, we had some of the worst weather yet known to Alabama*. Tornadoes hit in several towns, claiming homes and lives all over the state. One mile wide tornado hit just north of my neighborhood. Miraculously, we stayed in the light and in the web (the interweb) throughout the night.

Honestly? It was hard,initially, to get worked up over the storm- Alabama sees them constantly. I can't begin to tell you how many times I've hid in a basement or in the crawl space under a house or in a school hallway, etc. The only damage I've ever personally witnessed was a giant pecan tree being uprooted and tumping (falling, for you yanks) over and then when a tree branch came through the roof and into my brother's bedroom.

But last night was pretty surreal. Smart phones have really changed the way we witness devastation- meaning, we can actually witness it as it is happening. Videos and photos of funnels and destroyed buildings were popping up on Facebook every few minutes, each one worse than the last.

Folks, it is a tragedy. Neighborhoods and lives are lost. Everyone was affected in some way, either personally or through their friends and family.

But if you look up today, the skies are clear. Beautiful even. The sun is out and air is warm. I'm not sure this is nature's way of rubbing it in, or saying I'm sorry. But it is good to know that life restores itself and we can rebuild and move on. And, there are several ways you can help- you can donate directly to the Alabama red cross or you can go have a delicious dinner at the Irondale Cafe (aka the Whistlestop Cafe), where 100 % of the proceeds are going to the red cross OR you can go indulge in some excellent theatre at BFT, where half of the proceeds from tonight's production of Anna in the Tropics will go to storm relief efforts, as will all of the money in the donation box.


Tomorrow night my show opens and if you could use shits and giggles, large hair and large costumes, good music and Italian revenge, then Amadeus is for you. It is filled with some of the most talented folks around and I do a lot of frowning and gliding around the stage. I understand that theatre might seem frivolous to many at this point, and surely I am not suggesting that storm victims need to stop repairs and come out to see a show, but if you are in town and need a break from constant footage of devastation, we are here for you. Theatre is how we know to move on, and so we shall, kiddos.

Until next time, where JessBecause will bring back the usual lighthearted ramblings filled sass and confusion, stay strong and stay hopeful. You'll come back with a vengeance and smile, southerners- you always do.

*Worst yet known= worst storm since 1974, according to the news

Let's all go to the lobby

 Remember that dude who makes sexy movies about sexy sex and how all that sexiness can totally ruin your life? You know, Adrian Lyne? Boys, you might know him as the guy who provided you with so much Diane Lane that your un-descended testicle finally dropped (Unfaithful)- Ladies, you'll know him from the film that provided you with revenge porn for every time you were jilted and apparently scared the shit out of Tom Hanks (Fatal Attraction).
Besides those two, he has a handful of other movies: Flashdance, Lolita and.... and...

Anyway; Thanks to netflix, Nine 1/2 Weeks (another film of his) is now streaming online. That's the movie with Kim Basinger/Mickey Rooney, I mean, Rourke and alley sex and some kind of plot built around the other places they decide to get it on. It is one of those movies that I remember I wasn't allowed to rent, which is a sure fire way to make sure your kid sees a film, folks.

Truthfully, I had only ever seen the (famous?) fridge scene before last week. So I decided to expand my Lyne knowledge and watch some soft core movie love with my morning cup of coffee.

And for your benefit, I took notes.

Here they are, chronologically, so you can somewhat experience "watching the movie with me", which I should go ahead and tell you, watching sexy movies with me is similar to watching anything with a sarcastic pre teen. Out of context, they may seem completely confusing at best- but you do have the option of watching the film on netflix first, if you so choose. Obviously, spoilers galore ahead.

Let's begin.

Actors at a party or It's my party and I'll perform if I want to

Today I watched a little something called Stephen Tobolowsky's Birthday Party, a highly staged evening with, you guessed it, character actor Stephen Tobolowsky. If that name doesn't ring any bells, that is okay. I needed some schooling when I was introduced to his podcast, The Tobolowsky files. You've seen him in a million films and probably haven't realized it. Such is the life of a working character actor who is, by all means, very successful, but perhaps not as famous.

Spring Cleaning, or How I Plan To Slowly Drive Myself Insane

First things first.
I love the mess out of this. And then some.


On to business.

For the starving artist

Starving for a little respect, artist buddies? Are you feeling like you're being pigeonholed into a group classified by some as lazy, self absorbed and totally disposable? Yeah, me too. It doesn't help when people are trying to cut out the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities because they are "frivolous".
It truly is a shame when people have no clue how much of their life, their choices, their work, their faith, etc etc etc has been influenced by the art they have been exposed to in their lives.

Obsession in the House (of mouse)

It started last week when my trusty old netflix dvd arrived. I waited until that evening and then I put in Watcher in the Woods. Mike passed out half way through, and Dobby glared up at me from across the room, wondering why the hell wasn't I feeding him for the 7th time that day. The film was more or less how I remembered it; Bette Davis was old and creepy, Lynn-Holly Johnson was terrible*, but so damn cute in that great 70's tomboy way; and I realized, once again, that (spoiler) the watcher wasn't a ghost, but a being from another dimension. Holy shit!