Random Musings

Calculated Risk has posted an excellent analysis of the current financial services imbroglio:

Comment on Crisis: Necessary Steps

While I agree with much of what he says, and I heartily recommend you read it, I do have some differences with regard to the Fed’s recent “rescue” of AIG.

I posted the following comment at the CR site: (somewhat extended here)

Great post CR!  I appreciate your reasoning, and I agree with much of it.

However I‘m not at all sure that I agree with you on the Fed’s approach to the AIG rescue.

This transaction appears to be a “packaged” bankruptcy to me in all but name, but without the legitimacy of a court as overseer.  The Fed is effectively providing DIP financing, given the asserted seniority of their claims and control (and the OUCH! rate); the equity holders are essentially wiped out by the Fed’s 80% equity stake.  But their approach forsakes the “protections” afforded by a traditional bankruptcy.

It seems to me that much the same thing could have been accomplished within a Chapter 11 bankruptcy, with the Fed providing (or backing) a formal DIP line (which would be inheently more secure, albeit equally unprecedented); Bankruptcy courts exist precisely to adjudicate claims in such situations.  To be sure, a Bankruptcy filing would have been a “shock” to the system; the reaction of counter-parties to AIG’s CDS agreements would be loud and perhaps violent.  But I’m coming to the view that relying on the discipline of traditional remedies, regardless of how “shocking” they may seem, is likely what we need to do.

Backing up my point, the swift action by Barclays in scooping up parts of Lehman once it was in Bankruptcy suggests what might have played out had AIG followed the traditional route.

I do agree that the Fed/Treasury approach to Fannie/Freddie was appropriate.  I worked in the Mortgage Industry from 1968-90, and must say that it was always “understood” that these two “agencies” had the implicit backing of the Treasury. The Fed/Treasury action was simply recognition/resolution of this implied assurance.  To be sure, when I knew them both Freddie and Fannie saw their primary mission as providing stability to the “private” mortgage markets (at first institutional and later securities) rather than reacting to “Wall Street’s” insistence on generating “profit growth every quarter”  which ultimately led to their problems.  Much blame is (inappropriately) on them now – and, indeed, they did screw up – but over time much good came from their being there.  (Regrettably, that baby’s probably in the bath water that will be chucked into the alley.)

And also I agree that Lehman should have been forced into Chapter 11.  Moreover, while I accepted the Bear-Stearns rescue as appropriate at the time, I’ve changed my mind; they should have been forced into Chapter 11 as well.  Let the legal infrastructure that society has set-up to handle these problems do its’ thing.

At the end of the day, this all turns out to be a failure of regulation – the players simply figured out how to slip out from under traditional regulatory constraints, and the laisser-faire philosophy of the last decade or so allowed them to get away with it.  Unfortunately, while savouring their success in “Gaming the System”, the hubris of these “whizzes” led them to decisions that can only be called stupid and bizarre.

That these companies have created hugely complex structures doesn’t necessarily mean that “Only New, Untested, Fixes” will provide a solution – ad-hoc is not the same as innovative.  Traditional regulation, discipline and remedies worked pretty well for a long time – and handled a lot of innovation along the way.  I suspect it’s time to re-apply the rules, and bring some traditional discipline back to the system.

UPDATE: The estimable Nouriel Roubini appears to agree with my analysis…  His analysis of the comparative benefits and costs of a bankruptcy “stay” on the various parties is much more instructive than anything I could write.

Lastly an interesting proposal  in today’s WSJ recommends that we Resurrect the Resolution Trust Corp. The essay, by Nicholas F. Brady, Eugene A. Ludwig And Paul A. Volcker – staunch Republicans all – makes a compelling case for Government action to clear up the aftermath, rather than squandering effort trying to plug holes in the dike.  Lets face it, we’re not gonna stop this hurricane, so we’d better get set for the clean-up.

 Print This Post

I’ve kept pretty quiet about the Presidential race so far.

The two campaigns had the potential to generate a real debate about important issues.  But since June,  they’ve mostly degenerated into the same rhetorical marketing crap that’s marred the political scene for the past 15 years  since Newt.

After a generally boring convention, Mr. Obama’s compelling speach last evening renewed my hope for somewhat better discourse; he is truly an inspiring speaker, and thinker.  I have no doubt that the Republican (Karl Rove’ian) attack machine will proceed in its slanderous way, and subject us to the dirtiest campaign in memory.  They’re very good at that, and I feared — nay, I was convinced — they’d once again prevail…

Then John McCain selects Gov Sarah Palin for Veep!

My read:  McCain just conceded the election…

I think I understand his pick:

• a woman,
• a mom (of 5, including a six month old w/Down’s Syndrome) as an attempt to suck in Hillary votes (although she’s “uber” pro life)
• a “Christian”  – that will play in the South – the SBC/Republican coalition – but McCain already had them anyway…
• an NRA member – a hunter and fisherman – but McCain already had them as well…
• a (former) Union Member – her husband is still a UAW Iron Workers member in the Alaska oil fields – could help with OH, PA, MI union vote(?)
• a reform minded politician who took on Alaska’s Republican elite, after Stevens & Co had totally embarrassed themselves – she may be the only AK state-wide Republican not under indictment
• a young “up-and-comer” not tied to Washington.

BUT:

Today is only the second time I’ve heard her name; the first was a profile on PBS (probably Frontline) several months back, which was part of a Ted Stevens expose.

Her selection completely undercuts any “Rove’ian” complaint that Barack Obama lack’s experience.  For Alaska, Foreign Policy is the other side of the Bearing Sea. She is completely unprepared to be President and, she’d be one heartbeat away from a 72 year old, cancer survivor.

I’m sure Sarah Palin is a nice lady, perhaps even an extraordinary talent.  But pundits have already called this pick McAain’s Miers Moment which can’t be the intended result.  In any event, she’s way cuter than Bill Miller, or even Dan Quayle – that’s about all that she adds to the mix…

It will be interesting to see how the MSM plays “Politically Correct” with this one…

As I said, I think he’s conceded the race!

 Print This Post

Crunch creech chomp scrunch crexch blech pfhttec scffug UGH!  That’s me eating a healthy chunk of crow, let me explain…

I admit to being disappointed when I heard that Goodspeed Musicals would stage Half a Sixpence as its summer offering.  I vaguely  recalled that  the show had been built specifically to showcase  the song and dance abilities of the British “bubblegum-rocker,” Tommy Steele.  So mounting the show critically depends on finding the “perfect” actor for the lead role,  and given my disappointment with the lead in High Button Shoes last season (although I enjoyed most of the production), I really questioned whether this dog would hunt.

I recalled that the movie version from the late ‘60s was a pleasant little diversion, which a re-viewing earlier this year confirmed.  Sure there were some nice songs, and a lot of dancing, but the story seemed pretty trivial, and mostly my impression was that Tommy Steele had good hair and teeth, and could sing and dance a bit.  (His follow-on “success” in the States suggests that wasn’t an adequate appeal.)

Since I’m an opinionated sort, I expressed my concerns when anyone asked (don’t worry, most folks ignore my views, they just seem to enjoy the passionate way I express them).  But, while I may have strong opinions, sometimes I get it wrong, and when I do I say so.

Boy, I got it wrong this time:  I saw a preview performance last Thursday and take it from me…

The Goodspeed’s Half a Sixpence is a delight.

Once again Gordon Greenberg uses his ear for a good story, his ability to collaborate on a vision with his creative and performance teams, and his understanding of the Goodspeed’s unique appeal, to the deliver an altogether pleasurable evening’s entertainment.

The show, by David Henker, with a book by Beverly Cross, is loosely based on H. G. Wells 1905 morality tale, Kipps: The Story of a Simple Soul, (which was apparently inspired by rapid changes in Wells’ own life when his early novels brought him financial security).

The simple “everyman” story finds our hero, Arthur Kipps, an orphan and dreamer, working as a draper at Shalford’s Emporium in the Garden Coast city of Folkstone <think an early “Are You Being Served”>.  He lives, with an engaging clutch of mates – Sid (Danny Gardiner), Buggins (Cameron Henderson) and Pearce (Wes Hart), in the shop’s basement.

This crew - later augmented by Shalford’s three sales ladies, Flo (Kate Marilley), Victoria (Elise Kinnon) and Kate (Caroline Massagee) - set our story up with a rollicking song and dance number, All in the Cause of Economy, describing their lot as  clerks for the ineptly imperial shopkeeper <think Dilbert’s “Pointy-Haired Boss”> Mr. Shalford, played with appropriate pomposity by James Judy, and his subaltern Carshot, an equally arrogant Rod Roberts.

Kipps pines for his childhood sweetheart Ann (charmingly portrayed by Sara Gettelfinger)  a housemaid in service to a prominent family. By chance, her mistress is visiting Folkstone this very evening and the young lovers rendezvous on the Promenade to swear their enduring commitment (sort of, its still early folks) to the tune of the title song Half a Sixpence.

The next day Shalford’s is visited by the Walsingham clan – Mrs. Walsingham (Goodspeed regular Donna English), Helen Walsingham (Julia Osborne) and “Young Walsingham” (Carrington Vilmont, our tale’s sneeringly arrogant villain).  They are local gentry a bit down on their financial luck – possibly due to Young Walsingham’s speculations in an early Internet bubble.  A query by Young Walsingham prompts Shalford to “volunteer” Kipps participation in a “Culture” class conducted by the lovely Helen.  That the class is this very evening, and screws up Kipps’ planned meeting with his beloved Ann, matters not a wit to the overbearing Shalford, who sees a chance to ingratiate himself with the Walsingham family.

After they leave, Kipps is lamenting his ill fortune  while closing the shop, when he is interrupted by the crashing entrance of Chiterlow, an actor/playwright (played by a boisterously “over the top” Jeff Skowron) who has dropped by – a bit late – to pick up a pair of “knickers.”

In the course of a preposterous conversation, Chiterlow announces that he’s just included Kipps in a play he’s written after seeing his name in the local paper. Checking the paper, he reports that Kipps is being solicited in an advertisement by local attorneys. This, he concludes, could only mean that Kipps has inherited some money.  Such good fortune (or, I suspect, almost any other excuse) calls for celebration, so Kipps and Chiterlow decamp for the “Bear and Banjo” pub to carouse in the raucous Money to Burn.  Their partying causes Kipps to miss his appointed “Culture” class, only to be discovered, in a “compromising” position with Laura the barmaid (a very bawdy Adriene Couvillon), by Shalford and Young Walsingham.

(Whew!  For a simple story, this is getting complicated…) Suffice it to say that Kipps indeed has inherited a HUGE fortune.  He invests a bit of it in a “quarter share” of Chiterlow’s play, takes a grand world tour – the A Proper Gentleman ballet – and entrusts the remainder to the ministrations of Young Walsingham, who has experience in such matters.

Mrs. W, sees in Kipps’ fortune a chance to restore her family’s station and contrives his engagement to young Helen.  On hearing this,  Ann is dismayed and forswears further contact with the hapless Kipps.  Alas, while our hero is as wealthy as he could ever wish, he is not  a happy soul;  for all his wealth, somehow he just doesn’t fit in.  And in a confrontation at Mrs. Botting’s (Cheryl McMahon) home (she’s Ann’s mistress – sheesh, keep up, will ya!) Kipps leaps to Ann’s defense when the Walsingham’s belittle her, breaking his engagement to Helen, and, in the lovely Long Ago, at last is betrothed to our heroine Ann (sigh).

Their wedding reception, back at the “Bear and Banjo,” is a triumphant party – is Flash, Bang Wallop the 11 O’clock number? It’s at least 10:45!  And no, the story ain’t over yet!

It seems that Kipps’ dreams are not yet fully realized; he yearns to treat his beloved to all the benefits of his new “Posh” station – a house with eleven bedrooms, each decorated in a unique tartan, would seem to be just the thing.  But the practical Ann wants only her Kipps, which she recounts in the lovely I Know What I Am.

They quarrel, and Kipps runs off to the construction site, only to discover that Young Walsingham has misspent his entire fortune – something about California real estate, I believe – and the nascent Kipps’ family is once again poor.  On hearing this, Ann consoles him by pointing out that they have each other, and they reprise the title tune.

But wait, there’s more! Once again the amazing Chiterlow crashes into the scene (the guy has mobility issues), this time to report that his play is an outstanding success, and that Kipps’ “quarter share” has made him rich yet again.

See, I said it was a simple story, didn’t I!

I have mentioned a couple of performers so far, but frankly, the entire company is outstanding – energetic, excited, and obviously enjoying the romp.

As Will Rhys points out in his program notes however, this is a show built around a star.  The key to the show is Kipps – indeed, he is featured in twelve of the show’s fifteen musical numbers. (At the curtain, the lady sitting on my left commented that “he never left the stage!”)

In Jon Peterson, this production has (IMHO) the perfect Kipps. Viewing the movie, I always felt I was watching Tommy Steele perform.  In this production, I’m seeing Kipps –Wells’ everyman – in the very best of hands.  Here Kipps is a character, with a compelling (if complicated and improbable) story; someone I could relate to, someone to enjoy. Throughout the evening, I was reminded of Dudley Moore, Anthony Newly, or even Stanley Holloway – each with a flare for the everyman character.  (Note to Management: you should bring Peterson back for another round; I’m thinking Stop the World, or Roar of the Greasepaint, or perhaps a vintage George M. Cohan piece, say The Rise of Rosie O’Reilly.)

Peterson is a hoofer, and while he sings delightfully and acts with an expressive flair (and a rubber face), it’s dancing  that puts this show over.  Patti Colombo, one of the most creative choreographers around, knows the Goodspeed’s tiny stage well, having choreographed 2006’s Lil’ Abner, and 2005’s stunning Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.  Given a solid hoofer as her lead, augmented by a troop of equally willing gypsies, Patti swung for the fences – and hit a home run! 

The ebullient music recalls the British Music Hall tradition, which Ms. Columbo exploits to great effect.  And set designer Rob Bissenger graciously surrenders most of the Opera House deck’s precious real estate to her, allowing some truly stunning athletics – a sailor (Eric Shorey) repeatedly cart-wheeling across the stage in the Money to Burn number!

Remarkably, Bissenger’s ingenious set, complimented by Jeff Croiter’s lighting, beautifully evokes a quaint Kent seaside  aesthetic, while handling the technical requirements of an unusually large number of scene settings. (‘tip o’ the hat to the Goodspeed’s ingenious technical gnomes!) Jay Hilton’s sound design fully exploits the sound system’s recent enhancements to deliver some of the crispest listening in recent memory.  The period costumes by David Woolard are delightful, particularly the “party” dresses at Mrs. Botting’s soiree.

Clearly my assumption was wrong; I jumped to a conclusion, when I should have had faith – I promise to never again doubt the choices that Michael, Bob and Donna make when planning their season (fingers crossed) — and I offer these comments as amends.  mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa…

Crunch creech chomp scrunch crexch blech pfhttec scffug UGH! 

The crow still tastes awful, but the show is truly worth it…

Half a Sixpence continues at the Goodspeed Opera House through September 19th.

 Print This Post

A while back, when I was still young and idealistic, we had another Democratic Primary.  Jimmy Carter, a little known upstart governor from Georgia was running against a well known, dynamic, idealistic, former seminarian, California’s Jerry Brown – yep, Governor Moonbeam.  I didn’t know much about Carter back then, but I found the nonconformist Brown a refreshing break from other “status quo” politicians, and God knows after Nixon we needed something new.

I was even more intrigued when Brown began spouting ideas from the iconoclastic British economist E. F. Schumacher, particularly his advocating for “appropriate technology” as described in Schumaker’s best known work, Small Is Beautiful.  I was a bit of a “homesteader” myself, pretty sure that if I could only escape the work-a-day business world, I could certainly support my family  on a small homestead – boy am I glad that phase passed, we’d have starved for sure.

In any event, this was a man after my own heart; a politician who believed in an “appropriate” world.  This was a politician I could get behind.  Oh sure, I knew that his dad was the California power-broker and former governor Edmund G. “Pat” Brown Sr.; young Jerry  was obviously the product of political privilege.  But maybe his studies with the Foot soldiers of the Pope had transformed him.  His tenure  as California’s Secretary of State and his gubernatorial actions prior to the campaign, were fresh enough to mark him as an agent of change.

As the primaries unfolded, the indefatigable Georgian racked up win after win  Things weren’t looking too good for Governor Moonbeam.  But Carter’s success frightened Democratic insiders; they were positive that this upstart couldn’t prevail against the likable Jerry Ford.  As the Maryland primary approached in late March or April, the party apparatchiks were bound and determined to stop him.

Now keep in mind that, at the time, Maryland was the nations’ exemplar of political rectitude:  Our former Governor, Spiro Agnew, had surrendered the Vice Presidency in a bribery scandal, and the sitting Governor, Marvin Mandel, was likewise embroiled in legal problems (he was convicted of mail fraud and racketeering in 1977).  Much of the rest of Maryland’s political establishment faced similar ethical challenges.  This was precisely the kind of governance that my champion from the California Republic would soon put to route.

So imagine my chagrin when I opened the Morning Sun as the campaign began to find a photo of the “my” Jerry embracing and embraced by that rogue Marvin Mandel.  This unlikely duo, and a gaggle of other democrat leaders, campaigned relentlessly over the next several weeks in a bid to block Carter.  What was Moonbeam doing with this clan?  Didn’t he know that simply associating with them tarred him with their stain?  Apparently not: He wanted to win and these guys could make that happen; he’d do “whatever it takes” to make that happen.

In the end things didn’t work out for Jerry; as I recall it Carter carried Maryland in the Primary and – since there is a provision in the Maryland Constitution that requires citizens to vote Democrat for President – in the General as well.

I might have been naive, but it’s hard to overstate how disheartened I was by my hero’s co-option.  The lesson I learned was that in Politics, hardball trumps idealism at every turn.  Regrettably, that lesson has colored my view of government ever since.  I don’t want to believe that, and once in a while I get my hopes up, but for the most part assessing political advantage pretty much explains most government action.

When McCain ran his Straight Talk campaign in 2000, I was heartened a bit.  But his “maverick” stances terrified the GOP governors, and they used every trick in their bag to block him with one of their own (much to their eventual dismay).  In his current outing, the erstwhile “maverick”  seems to have cast aside every principal to gain political advantage – much as Moonbeam did in Maryland – once again validating the hardball trumps idealism premise.

But Barack Obama, he’s different – at least up until last Thursday.  As a charming reformer, he reminded me of Jerry Brown 30 years ago.  We can change this; the system is broken but we can fix it; the pervasive influence of money in campaigns must be constrained.  All ideas I want to believe; at last a hope for the government we deserve.  Sure, his health care plan is not as inclusive as Hillary’s, his poverty program isn’t as focused as Edward’s, his Foreign Policy insights aren’t as well informed as Biden, or even Dodd for that matter.  Yes, you might worry that he seems to echo Conservative arguments a bit too quickly and unquestioningly.  But you can believe that he believes that he’ll bring change, address our problems, raise us above “party” orthodoxy and bring us together as a nation.

“You can believe that he believes” – until last Thursday.  By opting out of the public financing system for presidential campaigns, and apparently reneging on the letter and the spirit of earlier commitments, he becomes (for me at least) a reincarnation of Jerry Brown.  Sure he can probably out-raise the GOP machine – they’re in such disarray that I could probably do that.  Sure he needs to protect against the scurrilous 527 “Swift Boating” that’s likely to unfold as we go forward.  Sure he can argue that the system is broken, that since his contributor/supporters are so numerous and their contributions are in such small amounts, he’s “effectively” using “public” financing – although I’d have recommended adjusting the system before scrapping it.

He can – and no doubt will – offer all that in defense of his decision.  But the hard fact is (IMHO), he wants to win, and like Jerry Brown, he’ll do “whatever it takes” to make that happen.  Perhaps I’m still naive; after all, this is a “tactical” decision that will probably work for the campaign.  But I want more, we need more, than tactics.  We need integrity and courage and leadership - frankly I’m fed up with political tactics, I want inspiration.  And this choice flies in the face of that.   David Brooks and Colin McEnroe  are probably polar opposites on most points, but on this they agree.

I still hope that the Junior Senator from Illinois wins the Presidency.  I still hope he’ll change things.  But anymore I doubt he will.

That’s too bad; things really need to change… 

(I wonder if my boss will let me telecommute from Canada.)

 Print This Post

It seems like a pretty simple idea. Start with a reasonably successful Adam Sandler / Drew Barrymore romantic comedy set in the mid ‘80s. The happy-go-lucky hero is a musician, so lard it up with a bunch of period rock & roll. Add to that a winsome ingénue’s dreams of a life with the “perfect” beau. Throw in a couple of goofy side-kicks for each of them and you’ve got something that could work on Broadway… Couldn’t it?

Unfortunately not when placed in the hands of Matthew Sklar and Chad Beguelin (building on the movie screenplay by Tim Herlihy). Sklar presents us with 14 mostly forgettable tunes (supplemented with two by Sandler/Herlihy carried over from the film) that quote liberally from the popular music of the period, but just seem to be dropped “hither and yon” into the production because “we need a song here.” I could scarcly recall one melody by the time the next one began; his compositional approach leans toward the “louder is better” formula. Beguelin’s cliché riddled book is even less inspired, sacrificing whatever edginess and authenticity the original characters had to the expedience of theater staging.

And while Rob Ashford may have been able to make something of this hash with the resources available on Broadway, Paul Stancato seems to have staged this version with one eye on the balance sheet. I have to believe that Scott Pask’s set design was “edited” down to the series of worn looking drops for this touring production, and Brian MacDevitt’s lighting left much of the stage dark at crucial moments.

On the plus side, Gregory Gale’s costumes successfully mimicked the period and the film, adding a certain credibility. And Shannon Slaton’s sound design conquered the normally tricky Bushnell acoustics brilliantly – I could hear every line, spoken and sung, more clearly than any other opening night effort this season. Chris Bailey’s choreography was bouncy enough, although some of the choices, particularly the poses in the second act opener “All About the Green,” simply seemed weird.

Everybody knows the story: If you own a TV you’ve seen the movie; it seems to be playing on some cable channel 24/7. Robbie Hart, an affable aspiring “Rock Star,” is currently fronting a band that plays for weddings at a catering hall in Ridgefield NJ while waiting for his big break. He’s good at what he does because he’s in love, that is until he’s jilted at the altar by his witchy fiancée Linda. Emotionally devastated, he’s comforted by his band mates, George and Sammy, and by Julia Sullivan a waitress at the hall who’s engaged to Glen Guglia – a “perfect” cad. Needless to say, Robbie falls for Julia , Julia falls for Rob, but not without much confusion along the way — sort of like those frantic 1920’s musical farces. The frenetic comings and goings left me thinking of characters in a Stephanie Plum novel, except Janet Evanovich would have made them more believable.

The (fairly large) non-equity cast tried valiantly, but they had much to overcome. Merrit David James sang well as Robbie, as did Erin Elizabeth Coors playing Julia, but I’m afraid they lacked the comedic “chops” of Sandler and Barrymore; regrettably the comparison was hard to avoid. As George – a send up of the infamous Boy George – John Jacob Lee seemed to be imitating the film’s Robert Arquette more than parodying the real subject. Justin Jordan as Sammy was perhaps the most interesting of the band mates, and (IMHO) the only one in the cast to develop a fully realized character. Andrea Andert was a suitably trashy Linda, particularly as the lascivious seductress in “Let Me Come Home,” Mark Raumaker served up an unctuous Glen, and Sarah Peak was appealing as Julia’s ebullient friend Holly.

I expected this show to be a little piece of fluff; in fact it was more like a piece of cotton wadding. Oh well, there’s next year to look forward to.

The Wedding Singer is at the Bushnell through Sunday, June 22nd.

 Print This Post

Danny died four months ago. It was an accident, the worst kind; he was only 4, what could he know of chasing the dog into the road. No one could have done anything, could have prevented it, could have changed it; it was an act of God. It’s no one’s fault. Becca and Howie know that, but they can’t accept; certainly there must have been a way to prevent it, to put it right, to set time back before it happened – isn’t there? Danny was their precious child; how can he be snatched away so suddenly, preemptively, inexplicably?

David Lindsay-Abaire has chosen this morbid topic as the premise of his stunning Rabbit Hole. While one would expect it to yield a dark tale, his eloquent telling of this story, of loss, of grief, and eventually of grudging acceptance, raises it from tragedy to an almost celebratory view of life.

The play focuses on Becca, the grieving mother defiantly trying to hold her life together by systematically (although perhaps unconsciously) stripping her home of reminders of her beloved Danny; in her heart, Becca knows that no one can understand the loss she has suffered. Howie, her equally bereaved husband, copes as men do by projecting a strong front and formulaic participation in “group” therapy, while secretly viewing videos of Danny after Becca has gone to bed.

Meanwhile, Becca’s well-meaning mom, Nat, and off-kilter sister, Izzy, attempt to lift the couple’s spirits, their antics and asides providing needed comic relief. Adding to the complexity is Jason, the geeky teenager who was driving the car, equally traumatized by the event, and compelled to seek absolution from Becca and Howie by dedicating a story – of holes in the fabric of the universe – to Danny. Lindsay-Abaire uses a visit by Jason, late in the play, to explain his story to Becca and uncover the concept of “Quantum immortality” – multiple universes and realities, where Danny may still be alive – giving her a glimmer of hope and release which contributes to her eventual acceptance.

The title Rabbit Hole is a metaphor, taken from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, for any event which triggers a completely unexpected situation. Modern gamers use the phrase more generally to refer to any portal into a different or strange world.

In dealing with such compelling grief, Mr. Lindsay-Abaire has given his actors unusual latitude for expression and this ensemble seizes the opportunity. Once again TheaterWorks‘ Associate Artistic Director, Rob Ruggerio, has guided an outstanding team in telling an eloquent story. As Becca, Erika Rolfsrud, is simply outstanding; her confident bearing can be instantly shattered by a chance remark or comment, and just as speedily recovered as a mask. (There were moments when I caught glimpses of a young Jane Fonda in her portrayal, and I offer that as a compliment.)

Dylan Chalfy is equally compelling as the frustrated, grieving Howie. His efforts to cope with his wife’s needs and accommodate his own grief are manfully heroic. Joey Parsons was delightfully comedic as Izzy, Becca’s irrepressible, ditsy sibling. And Jo Twiss brought both motherly empathy and excellent comedic timing to their slightly outlandish mother, Nat. While a smaller part, Alec Silberblatt’s Jason was solid, in his professional debut.

Luke Hegel-Cantarella’s hyper-realistic set, complimented by John Lassiter’s ingenious lighting, almost voyeuristically moved us into the Larchmont home. (Lassiter’s evocation of TV video was particularly noteworthy.)

Rabbit Hole won the 2007 Pulitzer for Drama and it’s easy to see why. This is theater as an extension of life; theater that helps us understand…

Rabbit Hole is at TheaterWorks through July 20th.

 Print This Post

Lee Judge / The Kansas City Star (June 11, 2008)
Tip of the Hat to McClatchy Washington Bureau

My son passed along a link to a website that I find stunningly addictive.

I’m not sure where Bill went, but Ted seems to be alive and well. All kidding aside, that’s TED Ideas worth spreading , an amazing, eclectic collection of video talks by some of the planets’ best thinkers, on topics we should be thinking about but never quite get around to.

Jimmy Wales, Nicholas Negroponte, Nathan Myhrvold… talks like “6 ways mushrooms can save the world“, “Why can’t we grow new energy?,” “Rich hospital, poor hospital,”… insights into Technology, Culture, Global Affairs, Entertainment, and much more… fascinating, challenging, stimulating, intelligent discourse — sort of like NOVA and FRONTLINE, and NOW and Discovery Channel, all munged together. I really haven’t encountered anything quite like it before.

TED stands for Technology, Entertainment, Design. It started out (in 1984) as a conference bringing together people from those three worlds. Since then its scope has become ever broader. And thanks to support from BMW, Nokia, and Autodesk, videos of these presentation are available to everyone on the Web — for FREE.

I’ve been totally absorbed for hours - so far - and my boss better block this at work, or I’m doomed.

Check it out…

I haven’t blogged about politics in a while. Frankly, Mrs.Clinton’s self-serving extension of the Democratic primary, and the endless bloviations of the punditocracy, make the whole subject rather banal. But Scott McClellan’s intriguing memoir seems to cry out for a comment.

So for what it’s worth, here’s my two cents:

The reaction, particularly from administration stalwarts – and the MSM – seems focused on his perceived disloyalty, to the President, to his co-workers, to the press. The question seems be: Why’d he do it? (So much for intelligent modern journalism.)

I should admit up-front, that I have little use for Mr. McClellan, his successors or predecessors (right back through the Clinton days). Collectively they have turned what should be a routine process for disseminating information, into the fundamentally dishonest propaganda machine he apparently describes in the book. To my mind, this change is one of the principal forces that have redefined Politics from the Art of Governance into some sort of “B School” marketing exercise. They should all rot in hell…

In any event, at first I figured he did it for the money. But it seems he didn’t get a huge advance (his publisher, Public Affairs, is too small an imprint to have afforded one anyway). To be sure, he’ll make a nice piece of change off the royalties, but he’s a young man and that won’t be enough to see him through the rest of his days. Moreover, having burned his bridges to the Republican establishment, his job prospects are no doubt constrained.

Then it dawned on me: He’s “doing a Stephanopoulos!”

• Leave the administration before it’s over;
• Write a “mea-culpa” book lamenting how disillusioned you are;
• Get a HUGE job as Washington Bureau Chief for a network.
  

What could be simpler?

Except, to make that work you’ve got to line up all of the following:

• Look like an angelic alter boy – (having studied for the priesthood helps).
• Be portrayed as the character with a “liberal conscience” in a Joe Kline novel about the campaign.
• Leave the administration with your integrity intact.

Alas; none of the above apply to our Scotty (though it’s unlikely he’d know that). (David Brooks’ recent comments about Texas Mediocrities fit McClellan nicely.)

As I thought about it more however, I’ve moved closer to Joan Walshe’s view over at Salon; basically, as he wrote the book, he had a catharsis — that’s what he claims, and why shouldn’t I believe him (aside from all my previous experience with his credibility). (BTW: That’s a huge shift for me. I told my boss the other day that McClellan lacked the genetic capacity for such honest introspection.)

But whatever the motivation, I’m really glad he wrote the book. Not that he told us anything that wasn’t common knowledge to anyone with “half a brain” over the last many years.  But that he admitted it, and even more, that he acknowledged that the co-option of candor to spin is BAD. It discredits us with our friends, with our enemies, and most of all, with ourselves. Twenty years ago I felt I could believe much  atleast some of what I read in the press and heard from our leaders: Today I discount everything from those sources. (How can you tell when a politician is lying? His lips are moving!)

As a child of the ‘60’s perhaps I should have been more cynical – our mantra in those heady days was “Question Authority” for good reason. But I believed that my generation learned from the lies of those days; that we were committed to some higher honor; that we’d make good on our promise to make a better world for our successors.

Instead, we went to “B School,” birthed kids of our own, moved to the ‘burbs, and forgot. As Shakespeare and Ed Morrow reminded us so long ago:

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves…”

————————————–

Lastly, much has been made of McClellan’s criticism of the press (most derisively by the press scribblers themselves).

I most heartily endorse his observations.

The MSM — and much of the “blogosphere” as well — willingly “drank the kool-aid” on this administration’s misguided Iraq policy, and on most anything else they peddled.  And the same was true in large part for press coverage of the Clinton regime as well.   All kinds of excuses are proffered for why this happens: The jingoistic reaction to 9/11; the corporatization of media; the administration’s veiled (and not so veiled) threats to deny access to those who did not “toe the line.”

But the truth was there, if you looked for it… and some did. Thank God for at least this limited integrity.

A few weeks back I helped guide a tour of the Goodspeed Opera House for a large group of high school music students from Reading, PA who had been on a concert trip to Boston. Because the group was so large, we departed from our usual routine and recruited Michael O’Flahrety, the Goodspeed’s longtime Music Director — who grew up in Reading and participated in its youth theatrical and music scene — to speak to the youngsters in the Opera House auditorium.

Mike’s talk was progressing about as well as could be expected for a group of tired, slightly bored teenagers (who were doubtless asking “why did they bring us here?”) until he mentioned that — at that very moment — a new show by Jason Robert Brown was being rehearsed at the Norma Terris, where our new shows are developed. There was an immediate stir of excitement – among the youngsters and their chaperones as well – followed by an onslaught of questions about this event. (One of the chaperones, a Mom in her late thirties, even shouted that she’d be a “groupie” for JRB anytime.) Clearly the name Jason Robert Brown meant something to these folks. But I’d never heard of him. What’s this all about?

One of the things I like best about Goodspeed’s programs are the new musical work-shops at the Norma Terris Theater. Some are better than others to be sure, but I’ve seen some really great shows in this tiny little venue. Last year, Garry Marshall’s Happy Day’s tried out there, and it has moved on to the Opera House main stage this season before heading out on what should be a successful tour. In the past Flight of the Lawnchair Man and The 60’s Project were also winners, at least for me. So I was somewhat disappointed when it was announced that the NT would host only one show this season, 13 A New Musical. From the description it seemed like a teen “coming of age” story that I doubted I’d find appealing.

Since they were just doing the one show, I decided I’d buy tickets to both the talk-back nights in the run. What the heck, it’s my only chance to feel like I’m contributing to the art I love. Boy what a fortuitous decision…

The show’s story is, as I expected, a simple and complex coming of age tale, with all the angst, audacity, attitude – and hormones – that attend the emergence of puberty.

From the promotional synopsis:

Evan Goldman has it all – he’s popular, has the ‘perfect’ family and lives in the greatest city in the world – New York. That is until his parents get divorced and he’s forced to move - to a small town in Indiana. Uprooted from his old life, he has to make new friends and somehow maneuver the minefield of High School to become part of the ‘in-crowd’.

Several things set this show apart. The first is that the show is performed by a cast of youngsters who are in fact thirteen and fourteen years old; even the show’s “orchestra” — actually a rock combo — are all teenagers. Director Jeremy Sams has wisely chosen to take a light hand with his charges letting them bring their own reality to the roles. (Indeed, their portrayals are so realistic that at times I felt I was watching kids doing a high school play, only to be yanked back to the moment by their prodigious professionalism.)

The whole cast is outstanding – full stop! Graham Phillips is totally engaging in the role of Evan Goldman; he is on stage nearly the entire show, and has the lead in most of the songs. But Aaron Simon Gross’s Archie, the geek – afflicted with a “degenerative neuromuscular disorder” – who takes the hapless Evan under his wing whenever he stumbles, nearly steals the show. Rounding out the “geek squad”, Allie Trimm as the ingénue Patrice, is mid-westernly open and believable.

Ashton Smalling shines as the innocent (I took the virginity pledge) Kendra; her “best friend” Lucy, imbued by Elizabeth Egan Giles with a witchy evil, is also a delight. As Bret, the BMOC, Eric Nelson is everything I admired and feared about his namesake at my school, and his posse — Malcolm (Kyle Crews), Eddie (Alberto Calderone) — are spot on. I should also mention Eamon Foley as Steve; his particularly strong stage presence attracted my attention in several scenes where he was but an ancillary character.

But again, this is a remarkable group of kids youngsters actors – all of them.

The second factor is the show itself. Dan Elish and Robert Horn’s book is both engaging and poignant, yet wildly funny. I get the sense that the basic story was concocted by Brown and Elish, and that Horn was brought in later to add comic bits – I gather he is still working on it. But whoever did what, the asides and bits graciously soften what could otherwise be a bunch of angst ridden moments, and make the story much more attractive.

In the end, however, the best part of the show is the music. There’s a lot of it (17 numbers in all), and it’s all good. By the end of act one, I totally understood why O’Flahrety got such a reaction when he mentioned Mr. Brown. JRB’s tunes are complex, sophisticated, elegant little pictures that tell a story and convey a feeling all at once (and the cast masters the complexities brilliantly). Each number is seamlessly woven into the play; the themes and melodies loop around and fold back on one another, transforming the story into a tapestry conveyed in music. It’s been a while since I’ve heard such a completely engaging score; I can’t wait for the cast album.

My absolute favorite number is Bad Bad News in the second act, staged first with Malcolm and Eddie and reprized, after a bit of stage business, adding Steve and Bill; the quartet’s rendering is a show-stopper (Eamon Foley’s tenor wail in the reprise just adds to the glee). The “showiest” number is All Hail the Brain by the whole company in the first act; the chorus of that number has been spinning in my head since Thursday. But from the shows ebullient opener 13, through the intimate, poignant What It Means To Be a Friend in the first act, the first act close Here I Come (great song, but the staging needs work), to the haunting, inspiring finale A Little More Homework; each song eloquently extends the story, yet each is a standalone gem.

I am so glad I got to see this remarkable production at this early stage; I plan on going into the city to see it when it opens on Broadway later this year.

(Listen to the clips above for a taste of how engaging this music is. The 13 link is the Goodspeed cast in the rehearsal hall, also check out this one. The Friend link is a demo from JRB’s website, and the Homework link from Elon University’s Spring Honors Convocation on April 10, 2008. Jason Robert Brown arranged and orchestrated the piece for its first public performance at Elon’s Convocation. I have no idea how that came about, but they do a great job with a beautiful song. Enjoy)

 Print This Post