Thursday, October 29, 2009
I sort of wish he'd been my drama teacher. *sigh*
i have a tiny straight-girl crush on kenny ortega.
Huh. I may have to go see this.
The Last Moonwalk: Michael Jackson's incredibly moving This Is It
The news in late summer about the plans to release This Is It (Sony Pictures), a movie documenting Michael Jackson's rehearsal process for the stage show he was preparing at the time of his death, didn't bode well. Given that the footage in question wasn't intended for a film but for Jackson's own archive, it seemed inevitable that the result would be an exploitative, thrown-together mishmash, a random bunch of murky home-video snippets padded out with sentimental talking-head interviews and montages of too-often-seen bits of old MTV videos and tabloid news headlines.
Cut to me in a screening room in late October, weeping my way through a stripped-down performance of "Human Nature" that brings out a whole new meaning in the song. (The song's incongruous last line, "I like living this way," suddenly seems like an apologia for Jackson's baffling personal life.) Or, a few scenes later, marveling at the bizarre gestural Kabuki he brings to a showstopping duet version of "I Can't Stop Loving You." This Is It is one of the best documents of live performance that I've ever seen, a rehearsal diary that's more intimate and immediate than a traditional concert film. And more than any sitdown interview with the notoriously opaque and evasive Jackson, it gives you a sense of what he was like: a man inhabited so completely by his performing self that he's more at home moonwalking than walking down the street.
The most surprising thing about This Is It may be its purity of intent. The film, directed by the "billion-dollar maestro" Kenny Ortega (he was also the director of Jackson's stage show, as well as a long list of mega-spectacles including the opening ceremony of the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics) makes no attempt to explore Jackson's offstage life, past or present—a brief montage of Jackson 5 clips during the song "I'll Be There" is the only nod toward biography. Instead, Ortega is interested in—obsessed by—showing us Jackson as a working artist.
Ortega methodically works his way through the concert, showing an unusual respect for the integrity of each song. (Even in good music documentaries, the tendency to cut away mid-song is endemic.) We see Jackson helping to cast dancers (out of 5,000 who auditioned, only 11 were chosen for the show), coaching his keyboardist on how to come in just behind the beat ("Like you're dragging yourself out of bed"), and encouraging a female guitarist to go all-out on a shredding solo: "This is your time to shine."
The portrait of Jackson that emerges is of a considerate and respectful collaborator, but also an iron-willed perfectionist who knew precisely what he wanted out of his crew and insisted on getting it. Tellingly, it's during a rehearsal of "I Want You Back," the Jackson 5 hit he may have sung more times than any other song in his life, that Jackson allows himself a moment of divadom, kvetching at length about the earpiece microphone that feels like "a fist inside [his] head." Jackson seems at home trotting out all the big hits from his own back catalog ("Billie Jean," "Beat It," "Thriller," and "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' " are all here), but watching this 50-year-old man return to the song he sang as a mass-marketed child prodigy, you have to wonder whether there's more going on inside his head than just pressure from an uncomfortable mic.
One thing is clear: If Jackson had lived to perform his planned 50-show run in London, his sold-out audiences would have gotten their money's worth. Though he's alarmingly thin, Jackson in no way looks or sounds like a washed-up, burned-out addict with a death wish. His voice, especially in the softer ballad songs, remains haunting (though he often resisted singing all-out in rehearsals in order to preserve his throat), and his dancing is mind-bendingly precise. In fact, Jackson's body moves with such otherworldly grace it's as if he's never not dancing. When he delivers a playfully spot-on imitation of the gesture of flight attendants everywhere ("Exits are located to the front and rear"), you realize what a student of bodily movement he really was: Whether from Mick Jagger, Bob Fosse, or a Delta Airlines stewardess, any move he liked was fodder to be incorporated into his signature style.
As we watch Jackson working to perfect this final and never-finished show, we're keenly aware that he's performing for three audiences at once: the 20 or 30 fellow dancers, musicians, and crew members who were present at rehearsals; the imagined live audience for those London shows; and the worldwide audience that's watching this movie now. As members of that last group, we get just about everything that would have been available to the first two, except for the live presence of Michael Jackson. But as This Is It reminds us, that presence is irreplaceable.
By Dana Stevens
The news in late summer about the plans to release This Is It (Sony Pictures), a movie documenting Michael Jackson's rehearsal process for the stage show he was preparing at the time of his death, didn't bode well. Given that the footage in question wasn't intended for a film but for Jackson's own archive, it seemed inevitable that the result would be an exploitative, thrown-together mishmash, a random bunch of murky home-video snippets padded out with sentimental talking-head interviews and montages of too-often-seen bits of old MTV videos and tabloid news headlines.
Cut to me in a screening room in late October, weeping my way through a stripped-down performance of "Human Nature" that brings out a whole new meaning in the song. (The song's incongruous last line, "I like living this way," suddenly seems like an apologia for Jackson's baffling personal life.) Or, a few scenes later, marveling at the bizarre gestural Kabuki he brings to a showstopping duet version of "I Can't Stop Loving You." This Is It is one of the best documents of live performance that I've ever seen, a rehearsal diary that's more intimate and immediate than a traditional concert film. And more than any sitdown interview with the notoriously opaque and evasive Jackson, it gives you a sense of what he was like: a man inhabited so completely by his performing self that he's more at home moonwalking than walking down the street.
The most surprising thing about This Is It may be its purity of intent. The film, directed by the "billion-dollar maestro" Kenny Ortega (he was also the director of Jackson's stage show, as well as a long list of mega-spectacles including the opening ceremony of the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics) makes no attempt to explore Jackson's offstage life, past or present—a brief montage of Jackson 5 clips during the song "I'll Be There" is the only nod toward biography. Instead, Ortega is interested in—obsessed by—showing us Jackson as a working artist.
Ortega methodically works his way through the concert, showing an unusual respect for the integrity of each song. (Even in good music documentaries, the tendency to cut away mid-song is endemic.) We see Jackson helping to cast dancers (out of 5,000 who auditioned, only 11 were chosen for the show), coaching his keyboardist on how to come in just behind the beat ("Like you're dragging yourself out of bed"), and encouraging a female guitarist to go all-out on a shredding solo: "This is your time to shine."
The portrait of Jackson that emerges is of a considerate and respectful collaborator, but also an iron-willed perfectionist who knew precisely what he wanted out of his crew and insisted on getting it. Tellingly, it's during a rehearsal of "I Want You Back," the Jackson 5 hit he may have sung more times than any other song in his life, that Jackson allows himself a moment of divadom, kvetching at length about the earpiece microphone that feels like "a fist inside [his] head." Jackson seems at home trotting out all the big hits from his own back catalog ("Billie Jean," "Beat It," "Thriller," and "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' " are all here), but watching this 50-year-old man return to the song he sang as a mass-marketed child prodigy, you have to wonder whether there's more going on inside his head than just pressure from an uncomfortable mic.
One thing is clear: If Jackson had lived to perform his planned 50-show run in London, his sold-out audiences would have gotten their money's worth. Though he's alarmingly thin, Jackson in no way looks or sounds like a washed-up, burned-out addict with a death wish. His voice, especially in the softer ballad songs, remains haunting (though he often resisted singing all-out in rehearsals in order to preserve his throat), and his dancing is mind-bendingly precise. In fact, Jackson's body moves with such otherworldly grace it's as if he's never not dancing. When he delivers a playfully spot-on imitation of the gesture of flight attendants everywhere ("Exits are located to the front and rear"), you realize what a student of bodily movement he really was: Whether from Mick Jagger, Bob Fosse, or a Delta Airlines stewardess, any move he liked was fodder to be incorporated into his signature style.
If, like me, you're a making-of geek who would rather watch rehearsal footage than the final polished performance, it's a thrill to see the stage of L.A.'s Staples Center (where Jackson and his crew were rehearsing before heading to London for their final dress rehearsals, and where his globally televised funeral would take place on July 7) scuffed and covered in tape marks. Dance, in particular, is a pleasure to watch in the process of being made. Witnessing dancers of this caliber stop in midexecution of some seemingly impossible move, only to repeat it again and again, makes what their bodies can do seem more, not less, amazing. "Dancers in a Michael Jackson show," Ortega lectures them at their first rehearsal, "are extensions of Michael Jackson." The show's choreography, by Jackson and his longtime collaborator Travis Payne, is rarely adventurous—there's lots of floor-humping, shoulder-twitching, and "Thriller"-style zombie arms—but the movement language Jackson created is so indelibly his that it's heartstopping to see it again for the last time.
As we watch Jackson working to perfect this final and never-finished show, we're keenly aware that he's performing for three audiences at once: the 20 or 30 fellow dancers, musicians, and crew members who were present at rehearsals; the imagined live audience for those London shows; and the worldwide audience that's watching this movie now. As members of that last group, we get just about everything that would have been available to the first two, except for the live presence of Michael Jackson. But as This Is It reminds us, that presence is irreplaceable.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Perspective
"Who cares?"
—Biden on Cheney's recent criticisms of the Obama administration's handling of Afghanistan
—Biden on Cheney's recent criticisms of the Obama administration's handling of Afghanistan
"If you can't be a good example, then you'll just have to serve as a horrible warning."
At 10:00 a.m. that morning DJ wrote:
i haven't napped yet. <-- victory
For Germans, humor is no laughing matter
DJ wrote her absent Allemande'gal:
last night at the office chrismtas party i chatted briefly with your esteemed former coworker Vee. she asked after you, and i assured her that (1) the scabies were history and (b) your son was thriving.
she seemed a little taken aback, as apparently she hadn't heard anything about the scabies (oops!). then i think i further alienated her by implying that she was a purse snatcher.
*sigh* i'm That Girl who makes holiday parties an ordeal.
before you get angry please recall all of my many, other, good qualities.
many thanks,
dj
Baby in danger
DJ wrote her absent German:
por youfignugen: or, ideas for your new apartment
por youfignugen: or, ideas for your new apartment
Co'dia responded:
yeah, forget about a huge room for my baby boy: let's make mama happy with clothes and (for the man inside me---no, i suppose there's not really any man inside of me *sigh*) beer.
i do have a little chamber for cleaning supplies and the like; no window; my darling son does fit; we've already tried . . .
will take pics this weekend.
DJ responded:
my research shows that small children prefer being locked in cellars. makes them feel more secure. like the authority figures are in control.
CO'DIA: *is aghast*
DJ: *a titch shrilly* i'm just sayin'!
CO'DIA: . . .
DJ: fine. be an enemy of science.
CO'DIA: *deletes this email thread*
Sugar high
'Tine wrote:
i am at home looking for a job. it's tough going . . .
DJ wrote:
THIS JUST IN: the economy sucks. CONSIDER: bake sale; hooking
i am at home looking for a job. it's tough going . . .
DJ wrote:
THIS JUST IN: the economy sucks. CONSIDER: bake sale; hooking
It is a true story that a friend once attended a wedding reception where beer was served in buckets at the end of each table, into which guests were t
Counseling a friend who was fretting over the mounting costs of her upcoming wedding, DJ wrote:
CONSIDER: eschewing table settings altogether. Trough-style receptions are:
1. economical and
2. good opportunity for guests to
a. mingle
b. let hair dow
c. not let things like "etiquette" and "hygiene" get in way of good meal/getting to know one another.
I AM: at your disposal (recycle? --earth conscious) regarding wedding-dress shopping, should you need to call upon my excellent eye (TRUE STORY: forecasted leg warmer trend long before lemmings at Vogue).
I WAS JUST: harassed by an acquaintance who said she thought it odd that i chose a bright white wedding gown on my big day, considering. . . .
I PLAN: to head out in an hours' time for our little date. ooh, i might actually be on time! (ADVISORY: do not hold breath.)
The buck stops . . . eh, somewhere over there.
Overheard:
i'm a firm believer that failure to organize and anticipate on my part does not constitute an emergency on yours.
*beat*
unless i am a CEO at AIG, Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, or similar, in which case you are screwed.
i'm a firm believer that failure to organize and anticipate on my part does not constitute an emergency on yours.
*beat*
unless i am a CEO at AIG, Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, or similar, in which case you are screwed.
She who sings prays twice
DJ wrote:
i mean, it's no "i did what i did for maria" or "legend of bilbo baggins," but . . .
Cha wrote:
Thanks. We've seen it and actually, we wrote the music. Ee plans to have the church choir do it next week at Mass.
DJ wrote:
i mean, it's no "i did what i did for maria" or "legend of bilbo baggins," but . . .
Cha wrote:
Thanks. We've seen it and actually, we wrote the music. Ee plans to have the church choir do it next week at Mass.
DJ wrote:
eff. now i'm going to second-guess *every* hamster'send from youtube!
well, i recommend you at least change the lyrics to something more suitable to the catholic mass:
well, i recommend you at least change the lyrics to something more suitable to the catholic mass:
"christ on the cross, dying!"
"jesus, lamb of god!"
"savior, cup of succor!"
"mary, virgin mother!"
"john, favored disciple!"
"magdaline, mahaps wife?"
"baptist, hygiene-averse!"
"judas, effing traitor!"
etc., etc.
you can see where this is going.
Second thoughts
DJ wrote:
i saw this in the new years day's washington post and fell in love with this lady's style:
she has a minuscule 11-foot-wide rowhome in georgetown and renovated it using ikea furniture and her impeccable taste and brilliant imagination. the kitchen in particular stuns me.
enjoy,
jealous
Valencia wrote:
Beautiful! Am I wrong, Dee, or did you just go through a remodel of your own?
DJ wrote:
*a titch shrilly* where is it written that just because you gut your house once you can't do it a second time within a twelvemonth? where? show me. because i'm really interested. to see this. *hands shake* *paws through medicine cabinet* *where is effing valium?*
Fixation
DJ wrote:
http://www.containerstore.com/shop/bath/showerTub/accessories?productId=10008165
these are just the cutest ever. you each need to buy some for your kids to store their toothbrushes. i've decided. TOO adorable.
Broo wrote:
Super cute! I'll have to go to the store near me and take one of Noah's toothbrushes to check it out. Looks like fun. If they work, maybe Aunta Dee should give them to her favorite neices and nephews in America for Christmas :) Madeline gets the monkey!
DJ wrote:
Jak wrote:
http://www.containerstore.com/shop/bath/showerTub/accessories?productId=10008165
these are just the cutest ever. you each need to buy some for your kids to store their toothbrushes. i've decided. TOO adorable.
Broo wrote:
Super cute! I'll have to go to the store near me and take one of Noah's toothbrushes to check it out. Looks like fun. If they work, maybe Aunta Dee should give them to her favorite neices and nephews in America for Christmas :) Madeline gets the monkey!
DJ wrote:
i'm kind of in love with the monkey and the hippo.
WISH there were a chicken.
Jak wrote:
Oh dude, Anna totally gets the monkey. She is obsessed with the right now. We asked her what she wanted for her birthday a few weeks ago, for kicks, and her response was "A monkey! A real monkey!" After we explained that they don't really live in our town she decided that she would be okay with a toy monkey. I had to go buy out the Carter's outlet of monkey pjs so that she would stop digging her old footies from last year out of the goodwill box and jamming her body into them.
DJ wrote:
that is SO AWESOME.
do you think that's maybe how foot binding got started? somebody had a really nice pair of wooden monkey clogs and refused to admit she'd grown out of them?
Jak wrote:
I can totally see that happening.
My child is enormous. I can't wait for her checkup at the end of the month to see how she measures up.
Valencia wrote:
BTW, Vincey is almost losing all of his baby chub. Too busy growing up and getting busy doing things. Oh, and also on a hunger strike. He is either protesting some of the finer details on Obama's Health Plan, or he is getting his two-year molars. You decide. Imagine what I could do if I joined Vince on this Hunger Strike. See you all next when I am a size 2! (Give or take a digit.)
DJ wrote:
i think you should probably go on the hunger strike, vee, since lilly is at a very impressionable stage, and your anorexia could teach her to keep her figure trim. know what i mean?
btw, alia, i am oddly tied to your kids each having one of these.
Managing expectations
This past summer my darling nephew Noah visited me and another of his aunts for what she and i dubbed Aunta Camp. My sweet spouse was kind enough to drive out and fetch Noah, an all-day car trip. En route, they called with updates, which I passed along to Noah's parents via email.
It read:
my lover just called, and they're twenty-five miles away. in the background, noah said, "i am happy to be going to your house, aunta dee, but i am sad because i miss my mommy and my daddy." aw. he's gonna need some phone love soon. it's pretty scary being a lone bug on the road, i bet.
Noah's curmudgeonly father replied:
Yeah, we may have to encourage him to focus on hanging with you guys. He can still miss us, he just needs to tone it down a bit.
DJ assured him:
It read:
my lover just called, and they're twenty-five miles away. in the background, noah said, "i am happy to be going to your house, aunta dee, but i am sad because i miss my mommy and my daddy." aw. he's gonna need some phone love soon. it's pretty scary being a lone bug on the road, i bet.
Noah's curmudgeonly father replied:
Yeah, we may have to encourage him to focus on hanging with you guys. He can still miss us, he just needs to tone it down a bit.
DJ assured him:
don't worry---i won't abide any emotin' in th'house! he'll be too busy cleanin' out the stables and carryin' SLOP to be carryin' ON.
grrrr. bonnets 'n' gingham. grrr.
AGAINST REGULATION: drawing a firearm during league play
To her friends, she wrote:
bring your marmots, green toenail polish, purple jump suits, and coffee canisters, and roll with us this shabbos at the creative alliance, where we celebrate the life and adventures of Jeffrey Lebowski, a man---not a hero, 'cuz what's a hero?---but a man, even a lazy man, quite possibly the laziest in all of los anGeles county, . . . well, i lost my train of thought here.
tickets are twelve to fifteen bones or clams or whatever you call them.
(no eight year olds permitted entry.)
DO YOUR FUCKING HOMEWORK, DONNY:
Jean-LUC!
Babs shared:
It is not too much to say that this little vid left me breathless.
It is not too much to say that this little vid left me breathless.
shocker #1: Detective McNulty (from The Wire) is a Brit!
shocker #2: Some coffee company wants us to watch him read Pride and Prejudice to us -- AND WE THANK THEM FOR IT.
Pomade
LW wrote:
Ladies, I am wired today because I just bought tickets to see Jude Law as Hamlet in NYC this weekend!!!
Babs wrote:
Ah, yes! Jude Law was my dream boyfriend way before Daniel whatshisname.
Also, LW, I think you might enjoy this film, Bright Star, that I saw this past weekend. It's big-time romance about the doomed love of John Keats. Lots of gardens and poetry reciting and Austen-era outfits.
Also, LW, I think you might enjoy this film, Bright Star, that I saw this past weekend. It's big-time romance about the doomed love of John Keats. Lots of gardens and poetry reciting and Austen-era outfits.
DJ wrote:
ooh. happy to hear about this, babs. i was hearing a lot about this film and was HOPING it was good. angsty men in period clothes with oily hair = my happy place
awkwardly self-revelatory this afternoon,
dj
A Lady is grateful for her friend
Whilst banished from hearth and home as it underwent breast augmentation, DJ received a lovely note from her delightful friend, Stringbean, who lives across the great pond. It read:
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/36328
And I really must give you a call and check on the mice.
Are you home on Thursday?
To which DJ replied:
http://www.aintitcool.com/node/36328
And I really must give you a call and check on the mice.
Are you home on Thursday?
To which DJ replied:
darling, i missed your email because i haven't had intertube connectivity. my adoring spouse and i moved out of the rat hostel (don't get excited---it's for a limited time only) while it undergoes renovation. to save money for our diamond-crusted jacuzzi, we are forgoing interwebness at home while we're at the rental. i happen to be at a friend's today, stealing her laptop, so i can see and respond. anyhoodles, love you, hate the mice, adore your wife, but not in a creepy way.
smooches, talk to me soon,
dj
And so, several months later, after having received an email stating that Chez DJ was back in business, Stringbean tried again:
So no more mice then?
S.
S.
Distraught at the reminder of her home's prerenovation infestation, DJ replied:
re: mice
none so far. then again, we now have a black stone counter, and the poo would hardly be visible on a black stone counter, now, would it?
oh dear,
dj
Ever-resourceful, Mr. Bean suggested the following:
The trick is to taint their water suppy with tonic water.
The resultant mouse poo would then fluoresce under UV light and reveal again the extent of any problem.
Although blood and semen would also show up, which could create difficult questions from neighbours.
The resultant mouse poo would then fluoresce under UV light and reveal again the extent of any problem.
Although blood and semen would also show up, which could create difficult questions from neighbours.
Grateful for his thoughtfulness, DJ made sure to reply:
my smartest ever,
it begs the question, "if a tree falls in a forest and no one's there to hear it crash, does it actually make any noise?" just so, "if a mouse poops on my counter top and i can't see the poop, is it really gross?" *bean resolves to never eat a meal home-cooked by dj*
i am *horrified* by the sarah palin vice presidential choice. have you seen any of the t.v. coverage?
shaking, shuddering, weeping,
dj
Ever with a solid grasp on world affairs, Bean quipped:
And I think I'm moving to Alaska; it seems I should be able to at least come second in their beauty pageant.
Shuddering at the unfortunate comparison, DJ hastened to assure amigo that:
*snort*
you, my friend, are MUCH, much prettier than sarah palin. and? you would not be so gauche as to wear a 1987-era banana clip in your hair to a major political convention.
judging her,
dj
p.s.
contractor et alia are at haus today. they make me cry.
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