Angela Lansbury's Final "Blithe Spirit" Stage Door Exit

Sunday, July 19, 2009. Angela Lansbury makes her final exit from the Shubert Theatre stage door at 225 West 44th Street in New York. She won a Tony Award (her 5th) for her performance as Madame Arcati in Noel Coward's seminal comedy "Blithe Spirt." The revival ended its limited run after 20 previews and 145 performances, none of which Lansbury missed.

Take it in. This is a legend.

SHM (contribution to ShortSupport.org)

I recently made some edits and additions to this piece.

SHM
by Rudy Palma
December 2008

The other week I walked into a crowded train and was forced to take a seat next to a stranger, something I am accustomed to on my frequent forays into Manhattan. This time it happened again, however, and when it arrives it is always unexpected. There is no way to forecast it, and it is the fault of no one person.

I took in the man next to me, probably late 20s or early 30s, and his rambunctious, cute little tot of a daughter. It was her presence that caused me to more than merely glance. I noticed his excellent jacket and perfect fitting clothes, all of which were ideal for his figure. I quickly noticed, then, that next to me he looked gargantuan. There in front of me was a side-by-side comparison of our legs. His extended further than mine, almost touching the back of the seat in front of ours, and they also came up higher, sturdy enough that he could plant his daughter on them.

This is it, the moment every shorter man dreads, when the feelings of self-hatred and inadequacy spring back up, rising from the dead. I had to consider how much more of a catch to a woman this man was than I - after all, he had already fathered a child. I could not imagine any instance in regard to holding the eyes - the interest - of women in which I would have any practical advantage over him or others like him.

Perhaps, I thought to myself, this was nature's way of making things right, of weeding out the weak and preserving the superior versions of mankind. My legs are not as ideal to support a small child sitting upon them, making me less desirable by comparison. It would therefore make sense were I not to mate and father a child. Logic says I should be phased out.

These are the thoughts that often come through our heads, and certainly mine. For me, they are an unwelcome break from my usual assuredness that, flaws and all, I am a pretty decent, desirable fellow. At five-foot-six, though not particularly short, I have nevertheless been the subject of light ridicule for the sake of others' self-aggrandizement (such as assurance that I could easily make it through a game of limbo by taller guys during high school gym class). There are also backwards compliments designed to allow others to excuse themselves from facing head-on their assessments of me as inadequate (usually girls calling me "cute" in the same vein as they would a puppy). Life could be much worse, but it is far from a walk in the park, even for a guy just south of average stature. I sometimes look in the mirror at myself after dressing for a formal event in my dress shoes, which add an inch or two, and I think to myself that I am looking at the man I should have been but will never be. Taking off my shoes means a reduction in more ways than one. Taking them off and putting them on back on and repeating the process: Bargain bin me, ideal me; bargain bin me, ideal me; bargain bin me; ideal me. Such is the thought process. It is an understandable obsession.

I have also noticed throughout my 21 years roaming around unattended (as the late, great George Carlin would have put it) that feminism has been hard at work during the past two decades. A great deal of necessary things has been accomplished because of this, which need not be repeated here. Through that has arisen a term called "BBW," or big, beautiful woman, coined by Carole Shaw in 1979 when she launched the magazine of the same title. The term has continued to be embraced by women who are negatively affected by a culture that has unrealistic bodily expectations. Just because a woman is larger and curvy, the term puts forth, that alone does not negate her potential beauty.

"How to Look Good Naked," a reality show filmed on both sides of the Atlantic, hosted invariably by gay male fashion experts and featuring plus-size women dealing with insecurity issues, perfectly realizes the concept of "BBW." "This is what real women look like," observed an interviewee on the American version. Other terms have sprung forth, such as "chubby chasers" for men who prefer larger women.

However imperfect its means or ends may be, this movement seems to thus far be a positive one. Images of women in the media may continue to be skewed toward the unrealistic, but "real women" now have an outlet, an aspect of the feminist movement that has reached out with them in mind and cemented itself into society. They now have a voice and a place. As a result, it has become socially and politically incorrect for anyone, especially a man, to criticize a woman's figure. "No fat chicks" is now a phrase for the Dark Ages.

Something that goes unacknowledged, however, is that our culture encourages unrealistic images of men as well, and in very high proportions. Everyone remembers from high school the tall, hunky quarterback on the football team that every girl pined for. Stick-thin female models also necessitate chiseled, physically imposing male models - there are two sides to every story. One need look no further than a Calvin Klein catalogue. Nearly all of Hollywood's most popular leading men are taller than their average and shorter counterparts, and the public is quick to deride the latter such men, particularly the female public. The scanning of message boards on the Web site for International Movie Database (imdb.com) devoted to actors such as Scott Caan, Stephen Dorff and David Spade makes this painfully clear.

The unstated, overall message that culture is imparting is that dehumanized women deserve an outstretched hand and a restoration of dignity, whereas their male counterparts deserve derision. Our culture is particularly unkind to shorter men, irrespective of those simply not deemed physically superior or in good enough shape. Just look at personal ads on Craigslist or in the local paper and you'll find women requiring men to be tall, sometimes with exacting specifications. Shorter men are shunned by women to comic appeal in contemporary sitcoms with rip-roaring laugh tracks - the fact they face a home or apartment that is empty when they get home from work is a subject of hilarity. If contestants on "How to Look Good Naked" exemplify real women, these portrayals of shorter men similarly exemplify "real men." What does this tell us? Empathy for real men is non-existent in contemporary culture.

It must be acknowledged that the law of nature is that people will tend to mate with those of a similar level of attractiveness, height, weight, facial features and still more factors that play pivotal roles in the physical aspect. Human beings are essentially primal, and not nearly as evolved as we would like to think. Going back to high school, who did the football star date? The most popular girl, of course! They were likely the king and queen of the senior prom, too, since that is the way things usually play out. There is no arguing for a reform of human nature because such is impossible. These are base desires that dictate life. We could improve ourselves by acknowledging that.

However, since there has been a similar effort to humanize women who are less than the physical ideal, I therefore wish to follow in Shaw's footsteps and craft my own coinage: "SHM" - short, handsome men. That's right. Short. Handsome. Men. I would love to see it stick and gain momentum, because short men deserve it. No one deserves to be dismissed simply because of their physical makeup. I believe the term SHM, if widely understood and embraced, might prove helpful to shorter men in many aspects of their lives, particularly when it comes to romance and restoring confidence, much as BBW has done for full-figured women.

A society that makes an effort to humanize one discriminated group but does little to nothing to acknowledge another such group of equal importance is greatly flawed and in need of considerable revision. Such revision can only take place if affected groups are willing to speak up for themselves in eloquent, appropriate fashion.

For men, our masculinity itself seems to be in a constant state of flux, at least in American culture. No one can seem to agree on what makes a man a man anymore, neither the women we are trying to court nor ourselves. Is it having tattoos, the ability to play guitar or drink each other under the table? In spite of what the media would lead us to believe, I do not think so. One thing I think men are unanimous in understanding, however, is that height is not a sufficient measure of a man's character or masculinity, just as weight is not a sufficient measure of a woman's character or femininity.

A look at the cultural landscape shows that men have been shown that assessing women based solely on their physicality is inexcusably flawed. There is no shortage of opportunities to learn this lesson. Still, a second look reveals that it is accepted behavior for women to do this exact same thing to men. Like men before them, their problem of misjudging the opposite sex is not merely because of primal desires, but also a hostile cultural environment that mars reality. When we introduce change into that environment, however, we increase peoples' awareness and restore our vision. I therefore think SHM is a term long overdue - just as there are big, beautiful women, so too are there short, handsome men.

http://www.shortsupport.org/Essays/RudyPalma.html

Stories From the City...New York City

Marrow...new poem collection

New Poetry Collection

MARROW

6.30.09

http://www.postpoems.com/members/rudyalbums/35211/

Boom Boom Wow!

After a considerable length of time since the hit-filled "Monkey Business" stormed the charts in mid-2005 The Black Eyed Peas are back with their ambitious new record "The E.N.D."

Smash lead single "Boom Boom Pow," which has spent nine weeks and counting atop the Billboard Hot 100, is surprisingly the group's first single to reach #1. And why shouldn't it be? It aims for something fresh and original and succeeds. Interesting verses intertwine with the chorus in restrained but relentlessly hooky, choppy melodic fashion. Fergie and will.i.am sound like they are having the time of their lives. The latter's production skills just short of wizard-like.

There are many more hits here, including "Rock That Body," which will grab the attention of DJs and club-goers worldwide, and the gorgeous, rollicking "Meet Me Halfway," an upbeat ballad where Fergie digs desperately with emotion with the tenacity of a soap opera queen. "I Gotta Feeling" is an easy, breezy summer hit in the making with Fergie's evocative vocal leading the way. The lyrics and melody are surprisingly simplistic, but in this case less is more.

This stuff is highly individual yet also retro-friendly with 80's-inspired synths and loose, spaced-out vocal effects, and the majority of the tracks live up to the album's full title - "The Energy Never Ends" - although some like "Party All the Time" and "Showdown" fail to live up to the standard set by some that appear earlier. "Imma Be" and "Missing You" fall short with limp melodies and lack solid hooks, but other filler tracks such as the chorus-deprived "Alive" are still listenable.

"Electric City" is an intriguing if unmelodic experiment in snazzy, tech-savvy wordplay ("Hit `em with the sound/Shoot `em with the bass") and "Now Generation" both criticizes and celebrates the knee-jerk lack of patience that characterizes the information generation. will.i.am name-drops Google, Wikipedia and Facebook as Fergie yells "I want it now!" "One Tribe" is a colorful track with a fluid, downbeat, international vibe as will.i.am waxes on the strength of diversity but calls for unity, not division. The track is a fine listen and escapes sounding like a preachy PSA.

Not everything works on "The E.N.D." On the second half of the record the melodies tend to grow weaker and the sound effects louder. Still, it has some seriously solid tracks and will continue to spawn hits for a long while. There is a limit to its success, but this is nevertheless the sound of a band anxious to forge new ground. Other groups may be phoning it in lately, but not The Black Eyed Peas.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/cdp/member-reviews/A3O8YT41TDXL0B?ie=UTF8&sort_by=MostRecentReview

Gaga for This Lady

Stefani Germanotta, a.k.a. Lady Gaga, has pulled all the right strings to stir mass attention and create quite a buzz at retail and radio. It just so happens that she has single-handedly given pop music a stinging shot in the arm. Late 2000s pop needed an intriguing figure like Gaga to come along - a rearview mirror on this decade in Top 40 land makes for a relatively unmemorable glance. Or at least it did until now.

Her public persona may absolutely ooze pretense, but quite the opposite goes for Gaga's music itself - "The Fame" has a healthy serving of sticky, summery, track-repeat-button-beckoning pure pop confections. Save for Kylie Minogue and Britney Spears, no pop performer this decade has succeeded so well at delivering tunes that so squarely hit the musical sweet tooth - treats that are not guilty pleasures but simply pleasures. Gaga, however, outdoes her contemporaries in that she is the principal writer behind her material and creator of her style and persona, even if the music itself is not entirely original - nor need it be.

The opening foursome of "Just Dance" featuring Colby O'Donis, "LoveGame", "Paparazzi" and "Poker Face" are all the stuff of pure pop bliss with melodies that not only thoroughly entrench themselves in the cranium but do not irritate from overexposure or wear out their welcome. They at once demonstrate Gaga's gift for scintillating melodies and sexy, club-friendly lyrics. Choosing RedOne and Rob Fusari as producers was a stroke of genius. These tracks serve as a reminder of an important truth that seems to be eluding not only the general public but the entertainment industry as well - at its best, pop songcraft is as valid a musical endeavor as any other.

"Just Dance" and "Poker Face" have both been solid #1 hits, and "LoveGame" is headed in that direction, currently sitting at #22. With its slinky, sultry beats and yearning, tugging melody, "Paparazzi" is unlike Gaga's current hits in that it is not straightforwardly club-ready but instead benefits from a starker treatment, showing off her particular vocal versatility and grace. Its nearly twisted, dreamy take on unrequited love is wholly original.

Elsewhere, the quality of the album takes a small but noticeable dip. Tracks like the muscular "I Like It Rough" and "Money Honey" are choppy and energetic but instantly forgettable, while the flighty "Summerboy," which catches a ride on an awesome electric guitar, is quite fun yet falls substantially short of being in the league of the album's opening tracks, or, for that matter, substantially differentiating itself from much of the material that pads the middle of the album, "Boys Boys Boys" being a prime example.

"Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)" is also a sprightly little piece of pop that renders itself completely innocuous. Other tracks such as the breathy, downbeat "Brown Eyes" and the title track attempt to demonstrate Gaga's versatility but show her creative palette wearing a bit thin. Her eagerness to please the listener is never in question, but that these tracks are not worth repeated spins - especially when given such a strong bunch of radio hits at the beginning of the record - is neither.

"The Fame" is not an out and out homerun, but it shows exciting potential for a rare new talent who is already deserving of the title 'pop star.' Gaga knows what people like and she demonstrates unrestrained determination to deliver it. Many young female entertainers draw comparisons to the entertainment powerhouse that is Madonna (Spears and Katy Perry chief examples), but in Gaga the public now has one who is truly worthy of such a comparison. It is a premature stage, of course, but if "The Fame" is any indication Gaga's engagement entertaining pop listeners will be long and fortuitous.

Amazon.com link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/cdp/member-reviews/A3O8YT41TDXL0B?ie=UTF8&sort_by=MostRecentReview

Lansbury Returns to the Broadway Stage In Coward Classic

Pictured, clockwise: Deborah Rush, Rupert Everett, Angela Lansbury, Jayne Atkinson, Simon Jones in "Blithe Spirit."

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It is a rarity for a performer to elicit unconditional love and reverence from audiences that span generations. The iconic Angela Lansbury is such a performer, and she is now the subject of glowing, genuine affection – if thunderous applause is any indication – when she takes the stage of Broadway’s Shubert Theatre as the larger-than-life Madame Arcati in the current revival of Noel Coward’s seminal classic “Blithe Spirit.”

The dry, witty British comedy is a fine showcase for Lansbury, but she is joined by formidable talent onstage, most recognizably film star Rupert Everett and Tony award-winner Christine Ebersole, who earned vast acclaim in 2007 for “Grey Gardens.” The material is a bit dated and the humor sunny but understated, yet under the tight guidance of director Michael Blakemore the cast mostly succeeds in oiling the creaks of Coward’s ingratiating vehicle. “Blithe Spirit” shows it age, yet the meat – the hilarity – is timeless.

Charles Condomine, Everett’s character, is a misanthropic novelist researching the occult. He and his wife Ruth, played by Jayne Atkinson, commission the eccentric, bubbly, highly notorious Madame Arcati, a medium of highly questionable talent, to perform a seance at their home. Only Arcati can sense that something significant has transpired, that is, until Charles’ deceased first wife Elvira, played by Ebersole, not only makes an appearance, traipsing gingerly through the draperies, but delights in making herself at home. No one but Charles can see the playful, lighthearted ghost.

Coward’s script is droll and daffy; while serviceable, it is not particularly scintillating. For that reason the dexterity and believability of the actors’ delivery can make or break its successful rendering. However, with such formidable casting magic ensues here in more than one manner of speaking. The story and its execution are unrestrainedly fanciful – Coward, after all, subtitled it “an improbable farce” – but this only amplifies the hilarity.

Atkinson is wonderful as the beleaguered, long-suffering Ruth. She plays off the remote, staunch, cool-as-cucumber Everett with impeccable ease. Her comedic skills are formidable, evidenced when Arcati sends her into a fit of frustration.

“Do you mean to sit there and tell me,” she cries, “that having mischievously conjured up this ghost or spirit or whatever she is and placed me in a hideous position, you are unable to do anything about it?!”

“Honesty,” Arcati says with a cautious gleam in her eyes, “is the best policy.”

Ebersole is hilarious, wringing combustible laughter out of her sketchy lines, and Simon Jones and Deborah Rush are delightful as Doctor and Mrs. Bradman, guests of the Condomines. Rush is instantly recognizable from scores of character parts, most notably that of Mary Flaherty in “American Wedding,” and she has great chemistry with Lansbury.

It is no secret that Lansbury is the greatest incentive to set one’s sights on the Shubert Theatre. Those who know her only from the long-running CBS hit “Murder, She Wrote” may be surprised to learn that she transformed from photogenic character actress to show business phenom on Broadway in the 1960s and 70s thanks to musicals such as “Mame” and “Sweeney Todd.” She announced her stint in 2007’s “Deuce” as being her final Broadway run, so it is likely her zany, thoroughly arresting performance as Arcati will cap off her legendary stage career. Her unexpected reemergence from retirement is good fortune for all theatergoers, particularly those unaware of her adeptness at comic delivery.

“I think I’ll have a small whiskey and soda,” remarks a downtrodden Charles late in the play.

“Make it a double!” Arcati says with a grand flourish. “Enjoy yourself!”

The Shubert Theatre is located 225 W. 44th Street in New York. Student rush tickets, subject to availability, are available at $26.50 two hours prior to each performance at the Shubert Theatre box office. Two per valid ID.