BY BEN WINTERS
Occasionally
a new show will open on Broadway and earn a slate of absolutely glowing
reviews. There is, however, usually at least one contrarian who feels
the need'or professional obligation'to rain a drop of disdain or two on
the parade.
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Avenue
Q - breakthrough new musical
or sophomoric indulgence? |
Such
is the case with Avenue Q and John Heilpern of the New York Observer,
who reviewed the show on Aug. 11: '[F]or the sake of offending any adult
who still adores cute, spongy puppets with big happy mouths, let's imagine
there aren't any puppets in the show at all. How big a breakthrough musical
comedy would Avenue Q be?' You always know when people put questions like
that, what the answer is going to be, don't you?
'A
breakthrough musical? Avenue Q is at best a sophomoric romp in the questionably
'ironic' tradition of Urinetown,' he writes. 'It's a send-up of 'Sesame
Street' that's presumably intended for students and adults who still care
enough about 'Sesame Street' to think it worth sending up.'
In
his last sentence, Heilpern makes the theatre critic's version of a mea
culpa: 'On the other hand, let it be said that lots of people in the audience
had a great old time at Avenue Q. I wasn't one of them, as you can tell.'
Meanwhile,
the White Plains Journal News called it 'Puppetry of the genius,' a weak
pun on Puppetry of the Penis, another remarkably offensive show of recent
theatrical memory. Hilton Als in the New Yorker singles out Ann Harada,
who has what might be the show's most difficult role: Christmas Eve, a
Japanese immigrant with a thick accent and a limping career as a therapist.
Als says Harada is 'a funny girl who can sing, act, and let the audience
in on the joke all at the same time,' all of which are key skills when
your character is at the center of a tune called 'Everyone's a Little
Bit Racist.'
Meanwhile,
Lisa Rose in the New Jersey Star-Ledger reminded us on Aug. 9 that Avenue
Q is not the first gleefully demented muppets parody to come down the
pike. Peter Jones, who has since moved on to directing the Lord of the
Rings trilogy, apparently directed something called Meet the Feebles in
1989 for $750,000.
'Kermit
the Frog once sang 'It's not easy bein' green,' but skin color is the
least of Feebles frog Wynyard's troubles, as he struggles with heroin
addiction and Vietnam flashbacks,' summarizes Rose. 'Miss Piggy is reinterpreted
as hippo character Heidi, a diva with an eating disorder and a violent
streak.'
One
wonders how John Heilpern felt about that one.
Tracy
Takes On
In
Britain, artists in all fields are used to a harsher tone from their critics.
The conceptual artist Tracy Emin, however, has taken umbrage to a public
slagging from a critic named Philip Hensher. It began in the pages of
the Independent, where Hensher wrote a critique of the artist's work that
went somewhat beyond your typical negative review: 'Is it possible to
be a good conceptual artist and also very stupid?' Hensher wrote, essentially
calling Emin not just a bad artist, but an idiot. 'There's no hope for
Tracey Emin. She's just no good.'
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Conceptual
Artist Tracy Emin
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Emin
proved herself to be good at one thing'public retaliations. The next installment
in the drama was in Britain's The Observer (no relation to the stateside
weekly), where Emin spoke of how pissed she was at the critical establishment:
'They write 500 words about me, they pay their mortgage that week. Someone
on the Independent called me a 'retard,' which really wound me up. I responded.
I'm not saying how, but I totally responded.'
Hensher's
suspicion, quickly aired, was that Emin had 'responded' by sending him
a bunch of unwanted mail, 'ranging from incontinence pads to china figurines
of Peter Rabbit,' according to a report on the fracas in The Observer.
Emin wasted no time in saying she had done no such thing, and then threatened
to sue Hensher for the very implication, and for calling her a homophobe,
which he denies doing.
I
suspect the whole thing is a conceptual art project cooked up by the two
of them, although Hensher sounds pretty serious when he says, 'She's welcome
to an injunction against me. I have no intention of going near her or
writing a word about her ever again.' As does Emin when she says, ''He's
pervy and creepy. He's from weirdoland.'
Rock
of Ages
There
was a 'Simpsons' episode about this last year, and you sort of thought
they were kidding. But no'there really is such thing as a Virtual Rock
Star. Brad Foss, an Associated Press business writer, filed a story on
Aug. 17 about the 'Weekend Warriors' program, sponsored by the International
Music Products Association. What is Weekend Warriors?
'Retailers
around the country seek out and connect wannabe rock musicians in their
area, provide them with gear and rehearsal space, and eventually help
them put on a live performance at a local venue.'
That
doesn't mean young kids with three chords and a dream'it means baby boomers
with three kids and a mortgage, like Richard Holloway, who is profiled
in the lead to the article. 'Before setting out to earn a Ph.D. in psychology
roughly 30 years ago, Holloway was a full-time singer-songwriter, performing
at nightclubs and universities with a variety of backup bands.' Now he's
back at it; thanks to Weekend Warriors, Doc Holloway plays around Minnesota
nightspots with a band called Dr. Linda and the Ultrasounds (Even the
band name speaks to middle agedness.)
The
idea of the program, says a spokesman in the article, is to give participants
'the equivalent of a catered experience of being in a band.'
By
the way, the version of Foss's story carried in some papers included a
picture of Dr. Linda and the Ultrasounds. Suffice it to say that when
bands like the Rolling Stones turn middle aged, they still look kind of
cool. Bands that start that way'do not.