Rick Stein's Blog

My upcoming staging at Monkey Wrench Collective...

2011-05-10T07:45:00.001-07:00

My latest AMERICAN THEATRE magazine article...

2011-04-28T13:40:00.000-07:00

In the May/June 2011 issue. To subscribe to AMERICAN THEATRE, join Theatre Communications Group here.

Everything you always wanted to know about...

2010-07-03T19:19:00.001-07:00

...Arts Orange County & moi in Dave Barton's profile piece in OC Weekly.

My AMERICAN THEATRE article...

2010-04-21T10:21:00.001-07:00

Finally got a digital copy of it, and have uploaded it here.

Woo-hoo! I'm featured in OC METRO magazine!

2010-04-03T20:00:00.000-07:00

Voila!

My latest article in AMERICAN THEATRE is out...

2010-03-29T20:59:00.000-07:00

...in the April 2010 issue. Page 50: a review of playwright David Rabe's DINOSAURS ON THE ROOF, a novel.

Back on stage...

2010-03-17T14:36:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, it was fun being up on stage again even if all I was doing was welcoming the audience, introducing speakers and moderating questions for the main speaker at the Dan Pink lecture I presented. More pix from this event here.

Mike Eggers: A true original

2010-03-06T17:54:00.000-08:00

Vincent Eggers, son of (and the spitting image of )Mike, paid homage to his late father.

Yesterday, I attended the tribute to Mike Eggers, who died suddenly last month. Though I knew him only for a few years on our homeowners association board together, he was the kind of guy who made you feel like you've known him all your life. Interestingly, he was a freelance publicity for the Laguna Playhouse for a while in the early 80s, before my arrival, but I first learned of him when he became Mayor of Dana Point, a city that owes him a great deal for being instrumental in its incorporation. He was also a key aide to Congressman Ron Packard, whom he helped get elected in an unusual write-in campaign. The memorial at San Juan Capistrano's famed El Adobe Restaurant was packed with politicos--current and former elected officials at every level. It had the feel of a "roast" but was sincere and heartfelt.

"All the More to Love" Debuts - Finally!

2010-03-04T20:02:00.000-08:00

I commissioned Craig Bohmler and Marion Adler to write a musical three years ago called All the More to Love, and produced a workshop of it at Laguna Playhouse. The Playhouse first announced it on their 2008-09 season, and then cancelled it. I'm delighted to report that it is at last making its debut in Phoenix. Here are the details.

Jon Marans' "The Temperamentals" gets NY Times rave

2010-03-01T05:09:00.000-08:00

I had the pleasure of directing Jon Marans' play "Old Wicked Songs" about 12 years ago at Laguna Playhouse, which is how I met him. We became good friends, and I was able to orchestrate a summer-long residency for him at the theatre in 2002, when I directed the World Premiere of his play "Jumping for Joy." He spent the summer working on "Strange and Separate People," and we held a reading of it.

Though he's written a number of plays, he's not had the kind of attention he received in 1997 when "Rent" edged out "Old Wicked Songs" for that year's Pulitzer Prize. "OWS" has been produced in many languages all over the world.

But now Jon has a bona fide hit: "The Temperamentals." Today's New York Times carries a front page arts section review that's about as good as anyone ever gets from critic Ben Brantley.

The wolf in sheep's clothing campaign ad

2010-02-06T09:13:00.001-08:00

Heard about this on KPCC-FM (NPR) yesterday but forgot to check it out. Then, I was checking Rex Parker's New York Times crossword puzzle blog (where he post-mortems the puzzles), about the Thursday puzzle, which was a fun challenge that I completed.

He shares at the end of it the clip of this campaign ad and then comments the following:

Just saw this a couple minutes ago. So ... the people of CA are ... sheep? And Tom Campbell ... well, let's see. He used to be a sheep, but then he got caught on one of those meadow pedestals and when he fell back to earth he was a guy, but he still wanted to have sex with sheep, I think, so he made this vaguely sheep-like costume but forgot that sheep don't have glowing red eyes unless they are really drunk or possessed by demons, so Carly whoever, who won't show her face because staring at it would be like staring at the face of God — awesome but blinding —she noticed Tom "Fake Sheep" Campbell and is now telling the other sheep all about it. I could be wrong.

Funiculi, funicula!

2010-02-01T08:11:00.001-08:00

Who knew?

I was astounded to learn this morning that the city of Dana Point opened in December a twelve-passenger funicular at Strands Beach (north side of the Headlands)! Will definitely have to try it out. This year, I rode the one that goes up Castle Hill in Budapest, Hungary, and the multi-car, subway funicular up Mount Carmel in Haifa, Israel. Of course, I've ridden on Angel's Flight in downtown LA, too.

A really bad day...

2009-12-14T16:54:00.001-08:00

Separated at Birth?: Dave Barton & Mark Ravenhill

2009-10-05T14:05:00.000-07:00

British playwright Mark Ravenhill, right; Orange County producer/director Dave Barton, left.

And some of us wondered why Dave has been partial to producing Mark's plays all these years!

Announced today: Dave's new Monkey Wrench Collective will debut January 15, 2010 with Mark Ravenhill's "pool (no water)" and Thomas Middleton's "The Revenger's Tragedy" written 400 years earlier.

Wouldn't miss it for the world!

Roots

2009-07-02T07:11:00.000-07:00

Just returned from Europe, where my brother and his family and Alison and I accompanied my 87 year old mother, Iris, to Hungary for a week so that she could trace her roots.

The highlight of the trip for Iris was our visit to the city of Miskolc, about 2 hours northeast of Budapest, where it was believed her mother's mother's family, the Davidowitz's, lived and owned a winery in the old days.

Efforts to connect via email with the head of the local Jewish community turned out to be a comedy of errors, so we drove to the city center and found ourselves to be only 2 blocks from the old Orthodox synagogue. Stopping in there, the caretaker called a congregation member to open it and show us around.

His name was Peter, and he looks to be about 30 years old, and had his wife and child with him. He offered us a little history on the building (designed by the same architect as the celebrated synagogue in Budapest that we had visited) and the local Jewish community (nearly all were killed in the Holocaust, as the Nazis were pretty thorough in the eastern Hungarian countryside, compared to Budapest, where many more Jews managed to survive the war).

When I told him that my mother's family name was Davidowitz and the story had been that they had a winery, we were astounded to learn that there had once been two main winemaking families in Miskolc: Davidowitz and Lefkowitz. Though he was not aware of any descendents today, Peter took us to the synagogue office, a repository of old books recording births, deaths and marriages, and located a marriage registry from the mid- to late-1800s, in which there were Davidowitz family members recorded.

We thanked him and gave him a donation to the synagogue, and Peter gave us a bottle of his own wine as well as a taste of his "pahlinka," a grappa-type of Hungarian brandy--tasty & with a bite.

Later that day, we made our way to Mad and Tokaj, about 30 minutes away, in the heart of the wine-making region famous for sweet wines. In each, there was a synagogue, testifying to the times when it was said that the Jewish population of Hungary was as much as 40% of the total citizenry.

In the lovely town of Tokaj, we went to a winery--really ancient cave-like vaults now used primarily as a tasting room since most of the wineries are adjacent to the vineyards today. There we tasted several Tokaj wines, never before imagining such variety and depth of character in sweet wines.

We returned to Mad, staying overnight at a small hotel that was reportedly converted from a former bank building. This tiny hamlet gave us some sense of what life might have been for the Davidowitz family more than 150 years ago.

Jon Marans' "The Temperamentals" Opening in NYC

2009-06-01T12:42:00.000-07:00

My buddy Jon Marans' latest play, "The Temperamentals," is opening in New York, with Michale Urie (of "Ugly Betty" fame) and Thomas Jay Ryan starring.

I directed Marans' "Old Wicked Songs," the world premiere of his "Jumping for Joy," at Laguna Playhouse, where I also hosted him for a summer in residence while he worked on "Strange and Separate People," which we also gave a reading of.

Break a leg, Jon!

"Collateral Damage" (my AMERICAN THEATRE article)

2009-03-07T08:35:00.000-08:00

The full text of my AMERICAN THEATRE magazine article submitted for the March 2009 issue (the published version was edited down by about half due to space limitations and renamed "The Way Israel Lives Now"):

Collateral Damage

Hillel Mittelpunkt’s 2003 hit-and-run play, The Accident, at Theatre J in Washington, DC, Feb. 4-Mar. 8, reflects the same kind of interest in the moral dilemmas of contemporary Israeli life as his more recent work Goodbye, Africa! The latter focused on an ill-fated return to Uganda by Israeli diplomats years after their ill-fated pas-de-deux with Idi Amin.

The Accident is about that brand of intelligencia that self-consciously violates the high moral ground it claims. Drunk driver Lior and the car’s owner Adam are goaded into fleeing the scene of an unobserved fatal crash by Lior’s wife Tami—they’re too important to be derailed by this unfortunate event, and the victim was, after all, only a Chinese, probably an undocumented worker.

While a sordid melodrama plays out over Tami sleeping with Adam at a conference and Lior sleeping with Adam’s daughter Shiri on a business trip, Lior is pitching some eurocracy on a brand he represents: “I buy Bumper, which means that I support a new world order, a human society devoid of national conflict. I buy Bumper jeans, shoes, sun-glasses, go to their restaurants, listen to their music channel; in short, I buy the Logo, because I support a global village in which Israeli and Palestinian children will dance together wearing Bumper shoes at a Bono concert rocking for a better world and a Beautiful Day.”

He knows he’s failed, though: “with the latest from Gaza, our competitor’s proposals sound much saner than ours” and he cites projects uniting Catholics & Protestants in Northern Ireland, Serbs & Croats in the Balkans, whites & blacks in South Africa.

Meanwhile, Adam, a documentary filmmaker, busily pitches his own project: “Four regular soldiers are mistreating an old Arab peasant at a roadblock. They make him bray like a donkey; they make him spread out his merchandise and then shit on it; they make him execute military drills in the sun. He faints, they pour water on him and force him to go through this routine one more time. The next day he dies. The family claims that he died from humiliation and a broken heart. The army claims that humiliation and a broken heart are not acceptable pathological findings. An investigation is held. One of the soldiers confesses and describes in detail what happened that day at the roadblock. The soldiers are found guilty to varying degrees. The soldier who confesses returns to his military unit, is humiliated, abused and then ostracized. A week later he shoots himself in the head.”

Adam’s project moves forward—but it is the military that finances it.

The sole whiff of redemption wafts our way when we learn that Shiri is in China doing humanitarian work with the family of the hit and run victim (who know nothing about her connection)—a hopeful thought, perhaps, that the next generation will be less prone to moral equivocation.

About its U.S. production, Mittelpunkt says, “This play isn’t about us Israelis (though it was when it was shown here). This play is about you--in a situation where your moral standards conflict with your ambition to live your life the way you wanted to. Will you create in your mind an alternate moral system, one which will rid you of the need to face these questions?”

Another AMERICAN THEATRE piece by moi

2009-02-16T08:09:00.000-08:00

Don't blink as you turn the pages of the March issue of AMERICAN THEATRE magazine or you might miss my short piece on Hillel Mittelpunkt's play, The Accident, now running at Theatre J in Washington, DC.

"Let them eat...Arts"

2009-02-03T23:58:00.000-08:00

As I read the report of another bailed out financial services company that embarrassedly cancelled a lavish resort-based conference as an incentive for its staff, I couldn't help but think how much more enduring and enriching a bonus they could offer their employees by treating them to some wonderful arts experiences in their headquarters city and branch communities. And it would help these arts organizations at a time when they really need it.

There's still time to save face.

Alas, poor Rumpole, I knew him well

2009-01-16T08:21:00.001-08:00

RIP John Mortimer

"We refuse to be enemies"

2009-01-13T20:30:00.000-08:00

A compelling story of friendship between a Palestinian woman and an Israeli woman aired tonight on KPCC's program "The Story." They spoke at length of how they keep communicating amidst the current hostilities. When I heard one say that at a women's peace movement rally she heard the slogan "we refuse to be enemies," I felt a pang of hope for the first time in weeks.

My OC Register Arts Blog today...

2009-01-13T11:24:00.000-08:00

...is about director Tom O'Horgan, whose death was reported in The New York Times.

My debut with the Orange County Register

2009-01-12T18:52:00.000-08:00

Check out my guest blog there at: http://artsblog.freedomblogging.com/2009/01/12/warming-up-for-death-of-a-salesman-tonight%e2%80%a6/6248/

Right now, I am more regularly posting to my work blog at:
http://sparkoc.blogpost.com, so check that out.

More personal posts, inappropriate for my work blog, will continue to appear here as time permits.

Pausing to Take Stock

2009-01-03T17:06:00.000-08:00

Two consummate artists I had the pleasure of meeting passed within days of each other. Much has been written about the more famous of the two (both Brits), and I can't say I knew Harold Pinter intimately. But Alison and I did meet him following his performance in No Man's Land, a 1990s West End revival of a play he had written many years earlier. I was pleased that Orange County Register theater critic Paul Hodgins reprinted his piece on Pinter of a few years ago in which I recounted the story of my encounter with the great writer.

The other, Adrian Mitchell, was a noted poet and playwright, among whose projects was a stage adaptation of Dylan Thomas's A Child's Christmas in Wales, which I staged in the 90s at Laguna Playhouse. The play with music had been produced by many theaters over the years, and I first encountered it when I was managing director of the Grove Shakespeare Festival/Grove Theater Company, where it was reprised each year. One year, the director took some liberties with the script, framing the story with a prologue scene in a pub where we meet the poet Dylan Thomas as an adult.

When I planned my own production, I contacted Adrian Mitchell and told him about that concept and that I hoped to re-create it in some way. He graciously offered to pen a handful of lines for the pub opening. I invited him to come see it, and though I can't remember exactly how we did it, arranged for him and his wife Celia to visit. The exquisite Surf and Sand Resort in Laguna Beach kindly provided a complimentary room--their best corner seaside view room, no less--and we gave a warm Southern California welcome to them (despite experiencing very English rain & chill during their stay).

A year later, Alison and I found ourselves in London, and the Mitchell's insisted on our coming over to their home in Hampstead for breakfast. Celia was gregarious and opinionated while Adrian was soft-spoken--though no less opinionated.

The New York Times ran a substantial obituary on Christmas eve and I learned much about him that I had not known--for instance, that he collaborated with Peter Brook on the legendary production of Marat/Sade in 1964.

Over the years, I failed to keep in touch with the Mitchells, and was saddened to learn of his death through the newspaper. He was a remarkable man.

Until next time...

Rick

My article on Israeli theatre has been reprinted on All About Jewish Theatre

2008-06-21T10:32:00.000-07:00

You can now read the full article online at:
http://www.jewish-theatre.com/visitor/article_display.aspx?articleID=2871

Chalice Nonsense

2008-06-15T21:08:00.000-07:00

Having just seen the new Indiana Jones movie, we noticed that the third film was on TV and taped it, catching a few moments when setting it up, and hearing the word "chalice."

OK, you Catholics, that's not an unusual word for you to hear, but for us Jews...

Anyway, hearing that word always reminds me of the 1955 film "The Court Jester" starring Danny Kaye in which the "who's on first"-style tongue twisting lines about the "chalice from the palace" are recited with great hilarity.

I looked them up, and am delighted to share them with you:

Hawkins: I've got it! The pellet with the poison's in the vessel with the pestle; the chalice from the palace has the brew that is true! Right?

Griselda: Right! -- but there's been a change: they broke the chalice from the palace...

Hawkins: They broke the chalice from the palace?

Griselda: ...and replaced it. With a flagon.

Hawkins: A flagon?

Griselda: With the figure of a dragon.

Hawkins: Flagon with a dragon.

Griselda: Right.

Hawkins: ...but did you put the pellet with the poison in the vessel with the pestle?

Griselda: No! The pellet with the poison's in the flagon with the dragon! The vessel with the pestle has the brew that is true!

Hawkins: The pellet with the poison's in the flagon with the dragon, the vessel with the pestle has the brew that is true.

Griselda: Just remember that!

Yeah...right!

Until next time,

Rick

Slave Market Thriving on Facebook

2008-06-10T19:12:00.000-07:00

Arguably, the most popular application on the social networking website Facebook is "Friends for Sale," a mildly diverting game in which one "buys" and "sells" friends--and total strangers--for fun and "profit."

Having discovered it a number of weeks ago, only recently have I begun to intuit the "finer points" of amassing large amounts of capital in the form of "human pets" and "cash."

Any Facebooker can add the app free and, upon logging in, receive $10,000 in the equivalent of Monopoly money. Logging in every four hours (but not before) gains additional infusions of 10 Gs, so that's always a wise thing to do.

Every player has a "price" which rises as s/he is continually bought and sold (and which earns the "slave" a small percentage for his/her own pot of money).

The more actively one buys and sells, the faster the capital builds, but it's possible to get "stuck" with a dud whom nobody buys or who is much less actively traded.

Mostly, but not totally, mindless, "FFS," as it's affectionately known, says a lot about the attraction of connecting with strangers. While not entirely anonymous (most Facebookers post real profiles and real photos since it's regarded first and foremost as a means to keep in touch with real friends), there's certainly a sort of thrill when purchasing someone you don't know from some far away land and engaging in some free market commerce.

I've developed a strategy that seems to be working, as my FFS coffers have more than $1 million and I own several hundred thousand dollars in virtual "slaves."

But nobody is pleading to "let my people go." There's absolutely nothing you can make your FFS slave do for you anyway.

Until next time...

Rick

Story Theater

2008-06-02T20:33:00.000-07:00

Sad news today from playwright/friend Jeffrey Sweet ("The Value of Names"), who reported on the passing of Paul Sills. I was shocked to learn that Sills was 80. He had that perpetually youthful demeanor that made you feel he'd never die, and while I never had the opportunity to work with him, Jeff said he was a real piece of work--not easy at all, but brilliant.

My only experience of his work were the two Broadway productions he created in the early 1970s: STORY THEATER and METMORPHOSES.

These had a profound influence on me in teaching me that a bare stage and talented actors and an imaginative director were all that was needed to create compelling theatre. I have emulated that example on a number of occasions as a director, and Sills is definitely one of the key reasons.

So, RIP Paul Sills, and I hope you look down fondly upon those of us who continue to perpetuate your style.

Until next time...

Rick

Israel's 60th Birthday

2008-05-10T08:35:00.000-07:00

I spent a semester of my sophomore year of high school at Alonei Yitzhak in a rural area near Binyamina, Israel. My arrival was delayed by the 6-Day War, Israel's greatest military and political triumph in 1967, but before the start of the term, a small class of Americans had arrived to join the international student body there. We were trucked and bussed all over Israel to see not only the traditional sights, but new ones like the Western Wall, Judaism's holiest, which had been inaccessible to Jews since 1948 when the Old City of Jerusalem was lost to the Jordanians. Also, we visited Gaza, and were encouraged by Israeli soldiers to climb into and on top of the Egyptian tanks abandoned on the beach during the recent fighting. We went to Hebron and Bethlehem and the Golan Heights as well. Later that year, my parents and brother visited, and we took a flight tour over the Sinai peninsula where we not only were able to see Mt. Sinai--but the detritus of the destroyed Egyptian army strewn between Gaza and the Suez Canal. There were many other wonderful experiences there for a 14 year old, imprinting in me a passion for Israel.

Six years later, a junior in college, the Yom Kippur War broke out, and I volunteered with my best friend to go to Israel and help. We would not be engaged in military work, but would pick grapefruits on a kibbutz to replace the men called up from the reserves to fight. Though not as brief as 6 days, and not a "triumph" (Israel was caught off guard by the attacking Arab armies), I was able to return after about 10 weeks. Not much of a sacrifice performing farm labor with free room and board (however rustic) at a Mediterranean seaside kibbutz adjacent to the lively city of Haifa, this visit nonetheless solidified further my connection to Israel.

In the intervenining years, however, I became, like many others with a love for Israel, gradually disillusioned at the Israeli government policies vis-a-vis the Palestinians who had been uprooted by three wars. No, the Palestinians were not blameless, and I always thought Yasir Arafat was a buffoon (I forgot who said that "he never missed an opportunity to miss an opportunity"), and their leadership continued to subscribe to a "destroy Israel" philosophy. But Israel seemed to do nothing but provoke more animosity by tightening its iron grip, fostering settlements on land seized from its owners, and turning a blind eye to the humanitarian crisis among the Palestinians. That did not seem very "Jewish" to me, and as much as I longed to return to visit, I stayed away--for a very long time. 32 years, in fact.

Tomorrow, I will talk about my return and my reasons for it.

Meanwhile, an opinion piece in the Washington Post by the head of the new J Street advocacy group is something I recommend reading.

Until next time...

Rick

Tax/Schmax

2008-05-07T03:35:00.000-07:00

I learned that I'm estimated to save 30 some odd dollars if the "summer federal gas tax holiday" is put through. Some states are, apparently, also considering a concurrent bye on their tax--here in California, I'm told I could then save a total of $80. Of course, since both of us work from home in this "connected" era, I think our savings is more likely to be about the price of a cup of coffee. Keep it, I say, and start fixing those potholes!

Until next time...

Rick

Who knew?

2008-05-01T09:20:00.001-07:00

When I was young, I had a strong interest in things Jewish and became observant, initially pursuing a path I thought would lead me to become a rabbi (but led instead to a different religion: theatre!).

Over the years, I certainly retained some interest in the subject--but not much more than reading reviews of books in the New York Times Book Review section or keeping tabs on Israel. I attended the rare Passover seder, and I certainly had an affinity for some plays (which I directed) that had Jewish characters in them. (For a time, I joked that I was an expert in "old Jewish man" plays). And I directed an Israeli play last year in its American premiere, too.

Since that time, though, I've been increasingly invited to participate in Jewish-related projects. From speaking at the IsraDrama 2007 in Tel Aviv to dramaturging a new Jewish-themed monodrama for a small theatre in Melbourne, Australia, to having my piece on Israeli theatre featured as the lead in a special section in the new issue of AMERICAN THEATRE magazine, to being invited to speak about that at the Association for Jewish Theatre conference later this month, to being invited to consider involvement in an international Jewish theatre festival, to being invited to help produce a "King Lear" with Israeli and Palestinian actors, and being invited to join some Middle East peace-related organizations.

I'm not complaining. (So, stop kvetching!)

I don't contemplate this dominating my professional and personal life in the future (though one never knows, of course), but it's one of those interesting twists of fate that regardless of how far you stray from them, your roots are still your roots.

Until next time...

Rick

"Who Can Speak for Me?"

2008-04-29T07:58:00.000-07:00

Below is an excerpt from my article in the May/June issue of AMERICAN THEATRE (AT) magazine. It is the lead feature in the special section: The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict On Stage. AT does not usually post the entire content of its magazine online, so I don't think this will be accessible that way, but you can check after May 1st on tcg.org. (If you are unable to obtain a copy of AT for purchase or at your library, feel free to email me and I will email you the full text of my article.)

*******************************************************************

"Who Can Speak for Me?"
Israel’s vibrant theatre scene boldly assays the
Palestinian conflict—but with authentic voices
from the other side mostly missing

We compound our suffering by victimizing each other. —Athol Fugard

It seemed at first that Nurith Yaari had bent over backwards to demonstrate that Israel’s theatre scene is not shy about self-reflection, self-criticism and, perhaps, even self-flagellation, based upon the plays she selected for inclusion in IsraDrama 2007.

Surprisingly, half of the plays staged in this November–December showcase in Tel Aviv were political dramas taking dead aim at Israeli-Palestinian relations in ways that often reflect less-than-flattering images of Israel’s official policies and the attitudes of many of its citizenry. Yaari is a professor of theatre at Tel Aviv University and artistic director of IsraDrama, sponsored by the Institute of Israeli Drama and designed to encourage production of and scholarly attention to the work of Israeli dramatists.

Despite its relative youth as a modern nation, celebrating its 60th anniversary on May 8, Israel has an immensely vibrant theatre scene, with among the world’s highest per-capita attendance. According to Gad Kaynar, another professor of theatre at the university and head of Israel’s branch of the International Theatre Institute, “The data is rather astonishing: On any given evening one can watch in Tel Aviv alone, with its population of more than 350,000, no less than 40 theatre performances in mainstream
theatres as well as on fringe and festival stages.”

Some might see this phenomenon as making up for lost time. “Drama’s origins in pagan myth, its growth within Greek culture and its development within Christianity have ensured the hostility of the Jewish religious authorities to theatrical manifestations throughout the ages,” former Oxford University scholar Glenda Abramson has written.

In fact, Kaynar points out that this historical antipathy took a new turn when several modern Israeli theatres started pushing boundaries, beginning with Hanoch Levin’s 1970 play The Queen of the Bathtub, which “dared to question the moral stance of a power-drunk Israeli society following victory in the Six-Day War (1967),” a production that provoked “massive demonstrations.” The role of theatre also reached Israel’s national parliament, the Knesset. In 1986, the Israeli Censorship Board decided “to ban the staging of Shmuel Hasfari’s The Last Secular Jew, a satirical cabaret depicting the apocalyptic vision of Israel as the tyrannical theocracy of Judea,” says Kaynar. A public outcry led the Knesset to abolish play censorship. In 1988, Kaynar reports, playwright Joshua Sobol was accused “of ‘self-hatred’ and ‘destruction of national and religious morals,’ following the violent interruption by right-wing fanatics of the premiere of his 1988 The Jerusalem Syndrome, which compares the devastation of the Second Temple and the Israeli occupation of the West Bank.”

Israel’s contemporary theatre clearly serves as a national moral
conscience, though that fact is little known elsewhere. So it made great sense for Yaari to expose 63 theatre practitioners from 21 countries to a strong dose of drama that, according to Kaynar, is “a ritual of existential value.”

These were works produced not only by low-budget fringe theatres; included among their creators were Israel’s two largest theatres, the Habima National Theatre and Tel Aviv’s municipal theatre, Cameri, major companies with significant government subsidies, large audiences and strong philanthropic support. And since IsraDrama was funded by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, raising the curtain on these unvarnished depictions of life in Israel today received an official imprimatur as well.

The first reaction of many attendees was that it is commendable
for Israeli theatres to be unafraid to tackle head-on the most explosive political issue dividing their country today. Some of these visiting theatre professionals, including Americans, quietly lamented a lack of similar courage in their own nations’ theatres.

Yet there was also something a little self-congratulatory about
this demonstration.

In their desire to prove themselves free and outspoken in a
proudly democratic society, the organizers of the event were unable
to conceal the fact that these provocative works still represent just one side’s perspective. Regardless of their honorable intentions, what’s disturbing is not just the ironic point that Israeli theatre artists are attempting to serve as mouthpieces for the Palestinian people. It’s that Palestinian theatre artists are largely unable—or unwilling—to speak for themselves."

Until next time...

Rick

PS-Please excuse funky line breaks that blogspot inevitably creates.

For art's sake (not because it makes them better at math)...

2008-04-27T11:56:00.001-07:00

I was so happy to read Ann Hulbert's piece in today's New York Times Sunday Magazine, entitled "Drawing Lessons."

For several years, at the Laguna Playhouse, I cast my lot with those who argued that arts education should be advocated on the basis of proven studies of improved test scores and performance by schoolchildren. In the hostile climate for the arts (and funding for the arts) that emerged during the Reagan administration and "trickled down" to state and local government as well as corporate funding, it seemed like we were mounting a last stand to fend off the barbarians.

But that rationale turned out to be a specious one, according to Hulbert's article today, and frankly, I'm relieved to know that. I never took pleasure in justifying support for arts education because it could make a kid a whiz at math. And I bemoaned the lack of courage and honesty--not to mention, ("hello!") actual belief in the intrinsic value of the arts--that led our field to abandon forceful, convincing arguments for what we do in favor of suggesting that art is only of value when it teaches us to do other things well. (It's the same way that many organizations "follow the funding" when making strategic programming decisions, creating new programs to qualify for grants and straying from their institutional mission to do so.)

I'm perfectly comfortable in believing that some students who receive exposure to the arts in school may benefit by gaining an early appreciation for the arts, but I'm hopeful that we can now lay to rest the strategy of advocating our cause on such a flawed basis.

Until next time...

Rick

"J Street"

2008-04-25T13:05:00.000-07:00

I first read about this a few weeks ago, then heard somebody mention it at a meeting I went to, and then today's New York Times buried a piece about it pretty far back in the front section.

"J Street" is a new American political action committee to support Israel, but one that will also take a critical eye at Israel's steps towards peace. It's inteded to be a counterweight (unlikely) to AIPAC, the America Israel Political Action Committee, that is well-funded, strong and is widely known to exert considerable influence on Congressional representatives.

"J Street" sounds like it's "Jewish" street, and I'm sure that's partly intentional. But the streets in Washington DC are lettered, "K Street" is the euphemism for lobbying organizations (since many are headquartered there), so "J Street" is playing off that as well. Ironically, there is actually no "J Street" in DC for some reason.

As someone who is pro-Israel, but have been uncomfortable with many of that government's actions vis-a-vis the Palestinians, I am looking forward to seeing what influence "J Street" might develop. AIPAC is often criticized as being monolithic in its support of Israel, believing that any criticism of Israel is tantamount to anti-Semitism.

Perhaps "J Street" can contribute to a more balanced dialogue leading to peace. I've registered on their site to receive informational updates, and invite you to consider that too.

Until next time...

Rick

2008-04-05T15:53:00.001-07:00

Our first morning in the SoCal mountains, we took a good "starter" trail: Cougar Crest Trail on the north shore of Big Bear Lake. That's the view from this trail down onto the lake and at Snow Summit where they continue skiing today.

Temperature was in the low 40s when we began our hike, but easily felt like 20 degrees more in the sun. This is a great trail! Only 2 miles, its several hundred feet of climb is so amazingly gradual that after about 15 minutes I felt warmed up and ready to move forward full tilt to the top, where it meets the famed Pacific Crest Trail that one can hike from Mexico to Canada.

The breathlessness is not just due to the views, however. The hike begins well above 7,000 feet altitude, so even if you are in good shape aerobically, it does take getting used to. Tomorrow our plan is to take a longer hike.

After this one, we stopped at Paoli's in Big Bear Lake's village, sat outside at a sunny table and ate basic but good Italian lunch. We drove around the lake with the top of my convertible down until we reached Arrowbear (returning to Lake Arrowhead where we're staying) as a chilly fog was rolling up the mountains from below.

The top photo by the way is a view of the Los Angeles basin this morning--totally clouded in below us.

Until next time...

Rick

Glass Houses

2008-03-23T20:36:00.001-07:00

Unbeknownst to most of my blog junkies, I appear to have unwittingly spawned an enormous controversy.

My article, "Who Will Speak for Me?," about the strong focus of Israeli drama on the Palestinian situation, was selected to run in the May/June issue of AMERICAN THEATRE magazine, the national publication of the Theatre Communications Group. I felt honored that they selected it, and it is a significant feature article.

Senior Editor Randy Gener decided to augment it with commentary about the cultural boycott against Israel advocated by some Arab nations and others, soliciting opinions from a diverse group of theatre practitioners, among them Ari Roth, artistic director of Theatre J in Washington DC.

Ari sent his commentary to his entire email address book, it seems, prompting many more comments.

I first learned about the cultural boycott commentaries from Najla Said, the daughter of of the late Palestinian intellectual Edward Said, with whom I met recently about a project I'm involved in: producing South African Yael Farber's staging of "King Lear" with Palestinian and Israeli actors, with her executive producer Tommy Kriegsmann. Najla told me she had been solicited to send in a written commentary.

I've become a sort of master of the adage "no good deed goes unpunished," and my well-intentioned piece about how Israeli theatre artists (most of whom are left-leaning, human-rights protecting advocates) seem to be promoting the cause of Palestinians under their nation's occupation, has exploded into something much bigger and more portentous.

We'll all have to see the issue of AMERICAN THEATRE to see where it lands initially, and then the following issues for the repercussions.

Until next time...

Rick

PS--many thanks to my friend Deborah Leiser-Moore of Melbourne, Australia, who took the photo from which I ripped off my nice new headshot!

Boneyard Redux

2008-03-19T07:33:00.001-07:00

Alison told me the other day she saw it in a sattelite image on Weather.com, and brother Bob just told me it's visible on Google Earth at the following address: 777 Las Vegas Blvd N, Las Vegas, N.V. 89101.
If you paste that into G.E., you will see from quite high altitude the large skull from Treasure Island casino. This image is not totally up to date, as it shows the parts of the La Concha motel lobby disassembled near the skull. That has now been rebuilt and placed to the northwest portion of the site. So even though I'm "prohibited" from posting photos of the neon signs there, you can check it out anyway!

Until next time...

Rick

Neon Boneyard

2008-03-17T07:25:00.000-07:00

Last weekend in Vegas, we finally did something we've heard about for a long time...we visited the "boneyard" owned by the nascent Neon Museum on Las Vegas Blvd. north of downtown in what is emerging as a sort of cultural district. (Yes, yes, "culture" and "Vegas" seem like an oxymoronic combination!)

On a gusty, sandstorm of a day, we trudged with about 20 people around two multi-acre fenced-in lots with a member of the museum's staff for about an hour.

Unfortunately, you're only allowed to take photos if you sign a form saying you won't post them on the web or sell them. That seemed a bit strict, but it was explained that some of the signs in the boneyard are old ones from existing casinos that fear trademark violations. So, they only donated their old signs under these conditions.

My Mom's favorite casino, Stardust, was demolished this year to make way for a new casino development, and the boneyard contained its old sign. One thing I never knew about that sign was that the image was supposed to seem like a nuclear bomb mushroom cloud--commemorating the n-tests 70 miles outside of Vegas! Back then they thought it was something to celebrate. Its futuristic lettering and diamond-like stars seem so cliche today--almost like watching "The Jetsons."

Alison & I had a favorite sign that we used to drive by north on the "Strip" going towards downtown, but that hotel was torn down quite some time ago. Imagine our delight to see the "Tam O'Shanter" hotel sign in the boneyard--complete with the 3 foot diameter illuminated "tartan tam" that sat atop a tall pole and revolved. It was so kitchy, you just had to love it!

Until next time...

Rick

Not a Cross Word in the House

2008-03-05T22:34:00.000-08:00

I've always enjoyed doing the occasional crossword. Once a week, tackling the Sunday New York Times puzzle, which I rarely completed, was typically all I would do--except when traveling and completing the puzzles in the in-flight magazines the airlines publish.

For months now, though, I've been beginning my day with the daily NY Times puzzle, and picking up three puzzles on Sunday from the LA Times website to supplement the NY Times magazine puzzle.

As any junkie knows, the more you do, the more you need to do, and I've now supplemented my puzzle completion with daily LA Times and daily Washington Post.

I can't start my day reading the paper until I've finished the NY Times puzzle, which I usually am able to do except on Friday and Saturday, when even consulting Dictionary.com's marginally helpful crossword solver application won't make the critical difference. Mostly, though, I do complete the Sunday NY Times puzzle these days--a rarity in my earlier years.

(By the way, there's a puzzle fanatic and creator who posts daily to his blog the answers & thoughts behind the NY Times puzzles--sometimes praising them, sometimes critiquing them.)

But there is a knack to crossword puzzles, and no matter who writes them (and there are many different creators), they seem to rely on the same playbook at times. For example, can someone tell them to stop using Stephen Rea's last name? How about Mel Ott?

Then there's the trick of clues that state "Log beginning"--it's usually "ana" or "dia", but you spend precious minutes thinking about where does a log begin? Is this about a tree?

It's emblematic of how crossword puzzles rarely are that difficult in the words within them, but their real difficulty is figuring out the clues, which are written in the most obtuse fashion to throw you off the scent.

Of course, many puzzles these days follow "themes", usually stated in the title of the puzzle. This is where they are typically more fun and clever. I did one today from the Washington Post in which the stated theme was "The Naked Truth" and you had to solve an "observation" (as it was characterized) which wound up being "Men and women in nudist camps can air their differences" over three long lines in the puzzle. Not bad.

I'm determined to take some time to compose a few puzzles of my own--and you can be sure I'll make every effort to avoid the "stock-in-trade" words that other puzzle writers seem to rely on. We'll see if I can be successful.

Until next time...

Rick

How to Build a Nuclear Bomb (or Bathe a Cat)

2008-03-01T08:35:00.001-08:00

A friend called me "brave" for saying I had bathed my cat, Bob, the other day. (That's not Bob in the photo--I would have needed an extra pair of hands to take a picture.)

Let's just say it's about as challenging as building a nuclear bomb.

Until next time...

Rick

My Voice on a Steely Dan Album

2008-02-29T16:46:00.000-08:00

During my daily workouts, while I'm ellipticalling (or whatever one calls walking/jogging/stairclimbing/pumping on the so-called elliptical machine), I often listen to my favorite Steely Dan album, Alive in America, the live album of their tour umpteen years ago (1993-94) when they proved 1) they weren't dead yet, and 2) that they were not just a studio band (actually, they had toured in the early days and still do, but it became a legendary truism that "Steely Dan never tours").

They visited the Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre in The OC, and I snapped up a couple of tickets for us as quickly as they went on sale. There's just something about their music I've always connected with, and I was screaming my lungs out with cheers at this outdoor concert venue when they performed, particularly on their hi-test version of "Bodhisattva."

Like many live albums, Alive in America is peppered with the crowd's reactions--at the beginning of a song, when the sneaky intro gives way to a few recognizable bars and sends the audience into paroxysms of joy, and at the end, to reward the band for besting the concertgoers' embedded memories of the tune.

At the end of "Bodhisattva," I am thoroughly convinced after many listenings and won't be dissuaded otherwise, my own "whoo-hoo" cheer during a nanosecond lull in the other cheers, can be distinctly heard on this album, digitized for posterity.*

Until next time...

Rick

*(Alas, according to their notes on SteelyDan.com, the album's "Bodhisattva" was recorded at a concert in Detroit. So what! That doesn't prove a thing. I know they mixed it with the Irvine concert crowd response.)

Pleonastic & Sesquipedalian

2008-02-27T15:23:00.000-08:00

Don't you love it when you learn a new word?

Perhaps you already knew what "pleonastic" or "sesquipedalian" mean, but I didn't until I read the New York Times obituary of William F. Buckley this afternoon.

(But of course, you say! Now I know what they mean! Context is everything!)

Like my mother (and probably your mother) said: go look them up.

Until next time...

Rick

Hello, Goodbye, Thank You and *$&#^@

2008-02-26T08:41:00.000-08:00

I learned to read at a younger than usual age (for that time, at least), and when I was still a child we moved for a couple of years to Morocco, where I learned to speak French (how fluently at age 7 is questionable). Instantly, my mother declared that I was a whiz at languages. I then learned enough Hebrew for my bar mitzvah. A year later I took German for one year from a stunning German blonde emigre I fell in love with. Then we moved to a place where the schools didn't offer German--and I was told I had already fulfilled my entire language requirement for graduation so I stopped learning a foreign language. Before entering college, I spent several weeks in a Hebrew "ulpan" (intensive language course) and continued studying that language for a couple of years, never becoming fluent but achieving slightly more proficiency with it than my supposed fluency in French (tell that to the French people I tried speaking with last time I was there).

Of course, I've had the chance to visit a number of foreign countries and to familiarize myself with the basic tourist phrases you should say prior to lapsing into English and expecting them to understand you. Hello, please, thank you, goodbye, toilet, etc. Never more than a handful of words, of course (though it's always practical but depressing to discover how many English words are used in other tongues these days).

Twenty years ago, the International Theatre Institute of the U.S. sent me to Seoul, Korea for some research and exchange purposes. I'll save the long version of the story for another post (or series of posts). But one night, I was taken out on the town by some Korean theatre artists, and by the end of the night (and after a few drinks, I'll admit), I insisted that they teach me a dirty word in Korean--but that it should be only one word, the worst possible word, since it was unlikely I could remember several. After great deliberation, they taught me that word. Upon my return, I was talking with a Korean-American playwright I knew and telling her this story. "There are no dirty words in Korean," she said. I then spoke the word I had learned. "Except that one," she replied.

As a result, one of my great ambitions became to learn one dirty word in every language I encounter. I don't exactly apply myself diligently to this endeavor, so I haven't amassed a voluminous collection of foul language. But there's no denying that knowing one can be as essential a tool to the foreign visitor as any of the other phrasebook words we memorize before our trips.

Until next time...

Rick

Faceless on Facebook

2008-02-22T17:52:00.001-08:00

Back in the summer, someone convinced me that I really needed to sign up on MySpace. Eventually I did. Then someone else told me that MySpace is "so last year," and that Facebook is where it's really at. Eventually I signed up for Facebook.

I hardly gave a thought to either after the initial process of signing up, until recently--for reasons I'm not really sure of.

Anyway, I began to figure out some of its features and to search for and discover that some people I know are on it, too. So, over the past few days, I've wrangled up a whopping 22 "friends", all marked by "avatars" on my Facebook "friends list." (Avatars are icons representing a person or group, usually that person's photograph.)

But my book of faces has one friend who is, well, faceless. On Facebook, that means the avatar is a big calligraphic question mark. Interestingly, my faceless friend is someone I have never met personally and know only from the Trip Advisor Israel Forum as a regular fellow contributor. Perhaps one day I will see what she looks like!

Oh, and I've posted some favorite recent photos on my Facebook page--but the only way you'll ever get a chance to see them is if you are a Facebook member and invite me to be your friend.

I guess I'll be waiting, but I won't hold my breath!

Until next time...

Rick

Is America A Dumb Blonde?

2008-02-14T08:13:00.000-08:00

Today's New York Times has a review of Susan Jacoby's The Age of American Unreason.

The article begins by talking about a YouTube clip featuring Kellie Pickler on Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?

Based on the Times review, it sounds like Jacoby is both rehashing long-standing criticism of America's anti-intellectualism and suggesting that there's a particularly venal convergence of it right now with the rise of religious anti-rationalism. And she's as critical of the left as of the right for their respective roles in exacerbating the situation.

America's archetypal dumb blonde, Marilyn Monroe, was really a lot smarter than her roles or image would suggest, but Kellie Pickler is no Marilyn Monroe.

Until next time...

Rick

"The Meet Cute is a Rom-Com Staple"

2008-02-13T07:39:00.000-08:00

This morning, in a theatre review, I had a meet cute with "meet cute," that ubiquitous jargon term of screenwriters pitching their wares to producers.

Actually, I'm lying...I first encountered the term about ten years ago when producing a play called "Who's Hot, Who's Not," by Sherwood Kiraly, adapted from his book by the same name. "Meet cute" is discussed by two of the characters in the play who, as I vaguely recall, have just met cute. (This play, by the way, is about the editor of a gossip magazine by the same title, whose only joy on the job is having secured his publisher's permission to write a last page column called "Where Are They Now?" about people who once were hot, like his own personal favorite, Clu Gulager.)

Wikipedia has an entire entry devoted to "meet cute" and I picked up the title of this post from another blogger's entry on the subject--now, I'll never be able to think of "romantic comedies" as anything but "rom-coms," I'm afraid.

I suppose that, in honor of Valentine's Day, it's also entirely appropriate for me to mention that Alison and I met cute--and we've been married 26 years.

If that ain't a "rom-com," what is?

Until next time...

Rick

Lowbrow Guilty Pleasures

2008-02-08T10:18:00.000-08:00

In light of my recent posts about the New York Times's Bernard Holland encouraging audiences to lighten up while admonishing musicians to tighten up, and about the Wall Street Journal's piece on lowbrow subsidizing highbrow, I got a real kick out of reading this morning's Times oleo charting their music critics' guilty pleasures. Anthony Tomassini declares his fondness for slumming with Leroy Anderson--anyone who is familiar with his music is sure to agree how much fun it is to listen to, and how much of a virtuoso he was.

But, boy, on the Letters to the Editor page, Holland takes a beating for beating up on musicians showing any hint of emotion when performing.

To quote Ricky Gervais on "Extras": "Are you havin' a laugh?"

Until next time...

Rick

Act now

2008-02-07T07:52:00.000-08:00

I just mentioned the other day in a post here that the National Endowment for the Arts experienced its first significant increase in budget in many years (still below the pre-"arts wars" level, though).

Well, days afterward, President Bush presented a FY2009 budget in which not only is almost all of that increase taken back but draconian cuts to public broadcasting are proposed as well.

I won't go into the wastefulness of the Bush administration in so many other areas.

Suffice it to say that arts & public broadcasting lovers need to act now and communicate their support for funding these valuable assets to their representatives in Congress.

Here is a link the Americans for the Arts advocacy page, where you can click on the top link under Action Alerts (Federal: President's Budget Released).

After entering your zip code, the site obtains the contact emails for your Congressional representatives and provides you with sample messages you can clip & paste or you can write your own message.

I have done this and hope that you will join me in fighting for continued and increased funding for the arts and public broadcasting. There is also additional background information on the Americans for the Arts main website.

Until next time...

Rick

Histrionics?

2008-02-06T07:31:00.001-08:00

I was shocked to read Bernard Holland's article in today's New York Times, "When Histrionics Undermine the Music and the Pianist."

In it, he derides musicians (pianists in particular) who express any signs of feeling during their performances as being distracting to the audience. To Holland, the music itself must take precedence over any visual experience. He is appalled by any Glenn Gould-like ideosyncratic movements and suggests that young prodigies be forced to perform in robotic sublety to avoid any taint to the audience's pure experience of listening to the music.

Is this the same Bernard Holland who just a few weeks ago chastized audiences for failing to give in to their feelings and demonstrate their approval at what purists consider to be inappropriate moments during classical music concerts? I posted a link to that article, and regarded it as a breath of fresh air within a field that is so mired in archaic conventions that it has driven away many concertgoers.

I can't imagine putting manacles upon musicians any more than a gag-order upon the audience. Those seeking as pure a listening experience as might be achievable can lie in their beds in the dark and listen to their CDs on Bose Noise-Defeating headphones! Concertgoing experiences are meant to be feasts for all the senses.

Until next time...

Rick

Lowbrow/Highbrow

2008-02-04T07:04:00.000-08:00

Caught this article ("When Lowbrow Subsidizes Highbrow") in today's Wall Street Journal. It's notable for such a pro-business publication to question nonprofit cultural organizations for adopting business models that place their missions at risk in search of money they feel they cannot attract on the basis of their missions alone.

Among nonprofit resident professional theatres, public conversations about this subject rarely take place.

Sure, there are plenty that sell their souls for the almighty dollar, detouring them from devoting 100% of their resources to their missions, but the subject only crops up during frequent quiet laments about the dwindling audience for serious theatre in the U.S.--the raison d'etre of the regional theatre movement. That's when managers ask colleagues privately for the theatre equivalent of a "stock tip," a small, inexpensive, commercially successful show they can put on their stage to pay the bills.

Few theatres today have the resources to remain 100% true to their missions, and plenty are justifying what they know to be questionable artistic choices on the basis of audience development when there is little evidence to show that lasting bonds are created with commercial theatregoers who are simply not interested in the more serious fare for many reasons (partly because they have not been trained to be interested since arts education has long been removed from our public schools).

Of course, the best example of this is the ubiquitous holiday presentation "A Christmas Carol," offered annually at so many of the nation's regional theatres--even some with outstanding reputations and high artistic aspirations. It's rationalized as being a classic--after all, it is Charles Dickens--and even highbrow arts lovers enjoy seeing it. And it's not as crass as offering [insert the name of any contemporary commercial hit here] that rival theatres find themselves forced into putting on their stages to make a buck.

But just as virtually no ballet company can survive without its annual "The Nutcracker," many theatre companies are heavily dependent upon the annual shot-in-the-arm from "A Christmas Carol." (This situation was hilariously lampooned in "Inspecting Carol" by Daniel Sullivan and the Seattle Repertory Theatre, which I produced at the Laguna Playhouse quite a number of years ago."

The dilemma of financing high culture is one that is timely.

The National Endowment for the Arts just received a $20 million increase in President Bush's 2009 budget (it's still below its pre-Reagan-arts wars level, and $170 million for the entire U.S. still remains below that famous benchmark--how much the federal government spends on military bands) and the Arts Council of Britain has received a significant increase in funding (but then mired itself in controversy when it sought to cull hundreds of worthy groups from its roster).

Is selling one's soul to keep the doors open the answer?

For the arts organizations that fly "without a net" (i.e. adequate endowment), the answer is probably "yes."

But as we witness universities' tremendous success in building endowments--some so outrageously large (and targeted for criticism) that they are starting to offer drastically reduced tuition, even to affluent students--the only long-term solution is indeed a major endowment thrust.

This is not a new idea, but few cultural organizations have made it a priority.

It's far from easy (much easier to raise capital for visible bricks-and-mortar projects and even for annual operating expenses), but I think prospective donors who care about an organization can be convinced that this is the most important way that they can ensure the long-term financial health of that institution.

And for the institution, the freedom from abrogating its mission and the ability to expand access to our civilization's collective cultural legacy should be of paramount importance.

Until next time...

Rick

On Theatre Critics & Criticism

2008-02-02T09:09:00.000-08:00

The cover story and two additional related articles in the new issue of American Theatre are devoted to this topic.

While much of it is dispiriting commentary, reflecting not only age-old tensions between the creators of theatre and those who critique it, but the sea-change in how theatre lovers access information about theatre, including criticism, owing of course to the rise of the pluralistic internet and the decline of the monolithic newspaper.

Still, the opportunities for greater dissemination and discussion of ideas about theatre as a result of the internet were also explored, and offered a ray of hope for those who truly care about theatre's future ability to attract and engage audiences.

One of pieces is accessible online at: http://tcg.org/publications/at/feb08/critics.cfm. Otherwise, you should pick up a copy if you don't already subscribe.

Until next time...

Rick

A Rose by any Other Name...

2008-02-01T11:00:00.000-08:00

극상품의
極好的
すごい
مُمْتاز، رائِع
καταπληκτικόw
kihvt
frábært
aukščiausios rūšies
отличный
toppenfin
makee
şahane
giro
flott
guapísimo

These are some of the words you can use to describe this Sunday and next Tuesday to people in foreign lands.

I am of course referring to SuperSunday and Super Tuesday.

Until next time...

Rick

Hiatus

2008-01-23T07:32:00.000-08:00

Due to some writing deadlines and participating in a conference that took me to Baltimore and DC, I'm afraid that I've neglected posting here.

My visit back east reacquainted me with frigid weather and snow, which was shockingly refreshing.

It also enabled me to attend performances at two highly regarded theatres whose work I knew of but had never seen previously: Centerstage and Theatre J.

Centerstage is one of the Ur-theatres of the American regional theatre movement, founded in 1963 and led for about 40 years by Peter Culman, now retired, who gained respect as one of the most skilled managers in the nation. They were just closing a production of August Wilson's "Joe Turner's Come and Gone," which I was able to get in to see (along with my niece Daria, a freshman at Binghamton University). I had seen its original staged reading at the Eugene O'Neill Theatre Center's National Playwrights Conference twenty years ago, which featured Charles ("Roc") Dutton, fresh from his triumph as Levee in Wilson's first major production at Yale Rep, "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom." But "Joe Turner..." is a less-produced work of Wilson's, and I never saw a full production of it until now. It possesses some of the raw genius of his writing, while showing some of the "seams" of a playwright still learning his craft. Centerstage did an admirable job of making it work. The performance I attended was sold out which, I later learned, is typical of August Wilson plays produced there.

My friend Ari Roth, whom I'd met previously but became better acquainted with during the recent IsraDrama festival in Tel Aviv, is artistic director of Theatre J in DC. We had the chance to chat, grab a bite of dinner with his young daughter Sophie, and he treated me to see his current production "Schlemiel the First" by Robert Brustein. This was an utterly delightful Klezmerized compendium of tales about the wise men of Chelm, the legendary shtetl in Eastern Europe populated entirely by fools. Silly fun, it was nonetheless quite a slick production. When I mentioned this to my mother, she reminded me that she had actually performed on that stage in 1943 in "Night Must Fall." Theatre J is located at the DC Jewish Community Center on 16th Street NW, a few blocks from DuPont Circle, and is one of the largest Jewish-themed theatre companies in America.

I also took a quick swing by the Signature Theatre in Arlington, Virginia, just across the river. It is located in a stunning new village complext of housing, retail, dining and the public library, and boasts two theatre spaces for its mostly musical theatre fare. Eric Schaeffer, who co-founded the company 17 years ago, remains its artistic director and has won kudos as a director of musicals, including on Broadway. They've become one of the most important theatres in the DC area, and now have a facility that matches in quality the work they put on stage.

In prior visits to DC, I've been to Arena Stage (now undergoing its own physical transformation), Studio Theatre (a daring company with multiple stages located near Theatre J) and the Kennedy Center, but DC and environs is teeming with great theatre. Many believe it is America's second city in theatre (though Chicagoans argue the contrary).

Until next time...

Rick

The Sound of One Hand Clapping

2008-01-08T07:56:00.000-08:00

If you feel terrorized at the prospect of responding spontaneously during a classical music concert, I urge you to read a very provocative piece by Bernard Holland in today's New York Times.

A Conundrum

2008-01-05T16:58:00.000-08:00

During my recent visit to Israel, I saw a proliferation of politically-themed plays and engaged in discussions about them with the creators and with colleagues from around the world.

Interestingly, this has led to invitations to become involved in a number of theatre projects in various capacities--writer, producer, director, dramaturg, shoulder-to-cry-on, 5 cent psychiatrist, etc.

Well, after all, the 'Doctor is in.'

One of the projects involves a collaboration between Israeli and Palestinian artists under the direction of an internationally acclaimed director in a play by Shakespeare.

Sounds like a worthy endeavor and one that can promote understanding between the two peoples and by outsiders who have little grasp of the roots of the conflict.

But there are formidable challenges to uniting such a group of artists in light of the mistrust that exists between Palestinians and Israelis today--even among those who would like to see a peaceful solution respectful of both sides.

Many people know of the renowned conductor Daniel Barenboim's East-Western Divan Orchestra, comprised of young Arab and Israeli musicians. Much has been written about its creation, a joint project of Barenboim, who is an Argentinian/Israeli, and the late Edward Said, who was a professor at Columbia University and an outspoken advocate of Palestinian rights and critic of Israeli policies. As controversial as was their pairing together to establish this ensemble, the orchestra has won world-wide praise for its admirable goals of bringing these young people together to make music and, in so doing, detoxifying their preconceived notions of each other.

I know we will be looking to that model as both inspiration and for some practical solutions to our new project, and I look forward to sharing more information about it here in my blog at the appropriate time.

Until next time...

Rick

Ricky's Wiki Googled

2007-12-29T13:54:00.000-08:00

Who comes up with these names anyway?

Resuming my genealogical research, I googled (yes, it can now be used in lower case because it is an "official word" and no longer just a proper name) my paternal grandfather's hometown in the Ukraine.

Prominently featured were a Wikipedia (this one's still a proper name) article to which I had contributed. There I noted a mistake I had not yet corrected--the year that the Nazi Einsatzgruppen (death squads) followed their advancing German army across the Russian Ukraine and rounded up and shot Jews in every locality, including those relatives of mine who had not emigrated to the U.S. or Israel. A family tree I had stated it was 1942, but during my visit to Yad Vashem, I discovered it was really 1941.

Anyhow, after fixing that, I searched for a couple of other topics in Wikipedia, adding some edits to another article I had previously contributed to.

It's quite amazing that this open encyclopedia exists and that everyone in the world can contribute information to make it as accurate (possibly, also, as biased) as possible. The site does have some controls, and I've read some interesting articles discussing how they function (most notably locking most people out from controversial subjects). Wikipedia articles I've read on subjects I know fairly well have turned out to have a high degree of accuracy.

The other Google (gotcha!) listing for the town happened to be a Google Earth placemark I had set online to mark it geographically based upon latitude & longitude coordinates I received from a reliable source (OK, he's a distant cousin). I guess I wasn't sure I was posting it correctly for the world to see, but it's there.

What amazed me the most, however, was that my previous blog post mentioning the town, Staro Zakrevsky Meidan, also appeared when I googled (gotcha again!) the name.

So, be careful what you blog--once it's posted, you will have been published in perpetuity by the siliconopoly!

Until next time...

Rick

Rick Stein's War

2007-12-28T09:11:00.000-08:00

If there is such a thing as a just war, Charlie Wilson may have been correct in identifying the attempts by the mujahedeen against the invading Soviets in their last hurrah in the 1980s as such a beast.

At least that's what I come away with from watching the film "Charlie Wilson's War," a highly entertaining and engaging look at an unlikely hero, a publicly obscure Texas Congressman who, nonetheless, was owed a lot of "chits" by his colleagues since (the film claims) he never sought pork barrel projects for his own district and could bank his political capital instead.

There are farfetched elements to the film which make it even more entertaining than it probably was in reality, but this boozin' cruisin' womanizin' Texan was in the right place at the right time to tilt American policy towards active covert support of the mujahedeen through back channels involving the unlikely cooperation of Israelis, Pakistanis, Egyptians and Saudis. And that support tipped the balance of the 1980s Afghani war to become a Soviet Vietnam from which the Russians retreated, tail-between-their-legs (and, in the view of many, the ultimate downfall of the Soviet Union).

Of course, casting Tom Hanks as Charlie Wilson makes him a lovable scoundrel...it's in the opening moments, as he's cavorting naked in a hot tub with Las Vegas beauties that director Mike Nichols seals his party-boy image, and then directs his (and our) attention to a Dan Rather-in-the-field report on the mujahedeen that captivates Wilson and (we are expected to believe) begins his conversion to the cause that will dominate his future time in office. Yes, a little suspension of disbelief is required, but after all, it may be "based on a true story" as the opening credits inform us, but it's also Hollywood.

No better example of that is the casting of Julia Roberts as a friend of Charlie's, a superrich former beauty queen, turned born again Christian and now rabble-rousing to do something about Afghanistan. It strains credulity to see Roberts in that role after some of her working class roles, but even rich, educated Texans, perhaps, should not be expected to possess a savoir faire that belies their true nature regardless of economic status. After all, we learned that thirty years ago during the heyday of "Dallas," didn't we?

Stealing the show (as usual) is the metamorphic Philip Seymour Hoffman, as a scorned CIA operative who becomes the key functionary of Charlie Wilson's war. He borders on the cartoonish--but then again so do the other lead characters--yet he has a couple of really astoundingly funny scenes worth the price of admission alone.

Nichols is a seasoned (read: slick) director who peppers the film with remarkable details, like when Wilson's aide-de-camp, a beautiful young woman, is found sitting forlornly at the bottom of the stairs with mistress Roberts' dogs, drinking the martini Roberts directed her to obtain, while Wilson & Roberts are upstairs, er, mixing their own martini.

Ultimately, we are instructed to take from the film the lesson that our abandonment of Afghanistan after the departure of the Soviets led to 9/11 and our belated, half-hearted return there afterwards. That's a sobering thought in a film that includes a few heartrending moments that build our sympathies for the Afghani people, but what the viewer is left with is an indelible portrait of an unremarkable man who, for all his amusing personality flaws, wound up playing a critical role in this moment in history, and just about persuades us that not only can war be just--it can be a helluva lot of fun, too!

Until next time...

Rick

Dawnhawks at the Diner

2007-12-23T07:45:00.000-08:00

We were treated to the early morning subculture in our little town of San Juan Capistrano (not so little, actually, at 35,000 "peopulation") as this frosty day broke and we headed to Mollie's, you know, the place by the railroad crossing.

It was 7 a.m., when we thought they opened, but the sign says 6 on Sundays, 6:30 the rest of the week. We've only been going there for 17 years.

Two sheriffs cars parked outside, but no sign of them when we entered. Just an old guy sitting at the counter with his travel coffee mug and the perky old hostess, thin as the toothpicks on the cashier's desk, greeting us and asking "Two for breakfast?" Nobody behind us and no supper menus in sight, ah well, we followed her anyway to a booth immediately behind the man at the counter.

Garrulously, he greeted another geezer who arrived steps ahead of us, launching into a barrage of commentary on topics I took no notice of, but that were punctuated frequently with "bullshit", echoed by his companion. He passed a half gallon E&J brandy container from in front of him to his neighbor who sniffed it, saying he stopped drinking long ago and resisting Mr. G's goading to go ahead and taste it.

He wore a building materials sweatshirt and shorts, sported a crew cut and boasted of plans to take the "sled dogs" to the beach this morning, when a third denizen rolled in, semi-consciously, plopping down on the end seat, taking a load off his puffed up ankles lightly covered with flipflops. Number three, cap pulled down to keep the fluorescents out of his stupored eyes, asked Mr. G if he was planning to go down to Calvary today, but Mr. G demurred.

Young blonde waitress responds to Mr. G's inquiries "did she like the Christmas gift he gave her" to which she replied, "see how tight these are" pointing to her sub navel jeans, "can't you see how tight these are? I ate four candies yesterday and three today."

By 7:30, new faces started arriving, all old, obviously regulars, in festive wear, bearing gifts, and the aging surfer types bundled up against the cold except for the shorts-and-flipflops uniform they never doff--not even for weddings or funerals, since among their crowd those only take place on the sands.

The only conclusion is that there's a world I've somehow been missing in my own burg until now.

Until next time...

Rick

On Imagination, Fantasy and Verisimilitude

2007-12-21T14:12:00.000-08:00

I often characterize the difference between film and theatre as being a choice between verisimilitude and using one's own imagination. In film, nothing need be left to the viewer's imagination--and rarely is, making it a more passive experience. Live theatre depends upon each audience member's own camera lens, which doesn't always focus on where the director has chosen--the lens is always wide-angle without closeups even though there are theatrical conventions and the use of lighting to draw one's attention.

So, you can consider yourself an auteur when you attend the theatre.

These thoughts came to mind when we saw Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street this morning--the film musical, not the stage musical, directed by one of the world's greatest fantasists, Tim Burton.

Having seen previously only the televised version of the original production with George Hearn and Angela Lansbury, directed by Hal Prince, with its seemingly deliberate staginess underscoring the Grand Guignol bloodbath it portrays, I wondered if I'd be entering "nighttown"--the cartoonish underworld of The Nightmare Before Christmas and Sleepy Hollow and Corpse Bride.

Yup.

It makes the streetlife of Victorian London in the film Oliver! seem positively Disney-esque by comparison. And while the film medium's ability to produce vividly realistic imagery with no detail unillustrated is exploited to the fullest in Sweeney Todd, Tim Burton's hallmark fantasmic excesses always provide little reminders that what we're seeing is not real, but imagined.

Take, for example, his use of blood in the film, of which there is much spilled, dripped, drained, splattered and squirted. Redder than the makeup lining the underside of Johnny Depp's eyes, shinier than the gleaming mettalic orbs in a pinball machine and more viscous than the oil pooling up under my 15 year old car, this is not something anyone would mistake for "real."

How about the real cockroaches crawling amidst the filthy counters in Mrs. Lovett's meat pie shop? They look like real bugs to me, but the frequency and timing of their appearances are as choreographed as an Agnes de Mille number from Oklahoma. Ditto the rats on the streets and in the sewers.

One of the most telling exampes, early in the film, was after he arrives at the garrett above Mrs. Lovett's and the camera pulls back from the window to a wider aerial shot of London rooftops and forbidding, black cloudy skies, the scene goes dark entirely for a moment and as the camera continues to pull back we realize we've just passed through thick black smoke from a chimney across the street (symbolically foreshadowing the smoke from the basement crematorium Todd & Lovett later set up?).

This is not using the film medium's skill at verisimilitude to achieve perfect naturalism but rather to paint an unreal world, a world in the imagination of its creator--and ultimately a mechanism that provokes a little more than just a passive response from its viewers even if we are not using our imagination exactly the same way as we would in the live theatre.

It's exciting to experience, not least of which is the Stephen Sondheim musical it envelopes.

Until next time...

Rick

Isolationism

2007-12-17T10:21:00.000-08:00

When attending an international theatre festival, as I just did, even one whose purpose is to promote a specific nation's theatrical output, it was illuminating to meet theatre practitioners from so many other countries.

I became friends with artists and producers from Hong Kong and Kenya, Serbia and Nigeria, Hungary and Sweden, Germany and Slovenia, Estonia and Turkey, Australia and the U.K.

Many of our concerns are the same: how to keep live theatre relevant in an electronic entertainment age, how to prevent government support for the arts from disappearing, how to balance programming that fills the seats with work that is meaningful and substantive.

America is famously ignorant about the rest of the world, and I'm afraid that as much as I have prided myself on keeping abreast of what's going on abroad, I was shocked to discover how little I really know and how provincial I truly am.

The festival was a refreshing wake-up call that has prompted my interest in the world of theatre beyond the U.S., and I'm working to broaden my knowledge of what's being produced beyond our borders.

At a time when, thanks to globalization, we are perfectly willing to embrace the awareness of brand names we'd never heard of previously, I think it's time for us to welcome warmly other nations' cultural "products" as well.

Until next time...

Rick

My 15 Minutes of [Israeli] Fame

2007-12-15T06:36:00.001-08:00

A week ago, on Friday, I was prominently featured in an article about Israel's growing exports of culture that appeared in Yedioth Ahronot, a daily newspaper.

I told my friend, playwright Shmuel Hasfari, that I was disappointed it wasn't in Haaretz, the liberal paper I read daily online, but he laughed and said "are you crazy?, Yediot Ahronot is the largest paper in Israel, that everyone reads it, so I should be very pleased." In fact, with a circulation of about 600,000, I learned that about 2 out of 3 newspaper readers in Israel read it.

Because it's in Hebrew, and my reading skills are a bit spotty, I can't understand everything in the piece, nor every quote from me. But there is a top of the page headline quote that roughtly translates as:

"Richard Stein, American theatre producer & director comments: 'I want to direct and produce more Israeli plays. If I found here an Israeli Neil Simon, who writes comedies that don't address the political and social life of Israelis, I wouldn't direct that. But something in Israeli theatre that exposes Americans to the Israeli way of life and gives us a perspective
than we don't get in America, that's what I'd like to see communicated.'"

And there's another two paragraphs of the reporter's conversation with me, citing my American premiere production of Hasfari's "The Master of the House" last spring.

So, I guess, for 15 minutes, I was the best known American stage director in Israel!

Until next time...

Rick

Culture Shock

2007-12-14T10:56:00.000-08:00

Having spent the last two weeks in Israel, and finding myself quite at ease living in Tel Aviv for that time, it was quite a shock to return to the United States of Christmas.

For so long I've taken it for granted, particularly in Southern California which is nothing if not over-the-top when it comes to gussying up for the holiday beginning as early as the day after Halloween (some enthusiasts up the hill from us keep their decorative lighting illuminated year-rouond).

But having been out of the country, residing temporarily mere minutes away from where the celebrated event actually took place, I saw virtually no evidence of Christmas.

And Hanukah, which in the U.S. has come to be touted as a sort of Jewish Christmas, rivalling the Christian holiday in garish decorations and commercialism, is a minor religious holiday in the Jewish state. Hanukah menorahs may be visible in shops, the ubiquitous Chabad proselytisers conduct public candlelighting ceremonies accompanied by song and families do gather (like my own cousins did), but a stranger would never conclude that he's arrived during some important holiday.

With my home neighborhood lit up like, well, you know, I felt like an alien. And it now being rather late to begin our own process of Christmakah/Hanumas decorating, Alison and I opted to forgo it this year.

At least her mother's care package came on time, with nutballs, gingerbread men, date nut loaf and garlic cereal snack mix, to give our home the slightest tinge of festivity. And I'm still being expected to fry up a batch of potato latkes even though, by now, Hanukah's eight days and eight nights have passed.

Until next time...

Rick

"I Can See Clearly Now" Redux

2007-12-13T05:45:00.000-08:00

Three months after my left eye cataract was removed and replaced with an implant, my right eye was done yesterday, and again the Johnny Nash song is prevalent in my mind:

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) Sun-Shiny day.
I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin' for
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) Sun-Shiny day.
Look all around, there’s nothin' but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin' but blue skies

Until now, I have not seen clearly through my eyes. Now there's no excuse for any inability to see clearly through my soul.

Until next time...

Rick

Yad Vashem

2007-12-11T10:50:00.000-08:00

Israel's memorial to the Holocaust is both a place of remembrance and an extensive museum about pre-Nazi Jewish life and how that changed during the war. I had not been back since 1973, and in 2005, the place reopened its new facilities designed by architect Moshe Safdie. Beautiful yet overwhelming, solemn but not morbid, comprehensive yet human are how I would describe the place.

Today, I browsed their website to see if they had in their database three of my father's first cousins whom we know were shot by the Nazis in 1941 when the Einsatztruppen followed the frontline troops to massacre Jews in village after village. I saw similar names from within the region, but no exact matches, so I added a Page of Testimony for each one: Zushe, Jacob and Shaindel Fogel. We know little about them, only their parents' names and that they died in 1941. Perhaps I will find more about them eventually to add.

If you are interested, the website is www.yadvashem.org.

Until next time...

Rick

Final Night in Israel

2007-12-08T11:19:00.000-08:00

Deborah from Australia & Tom from New York, new friends from the IsraDrama 2007, and of course "moi".

Though Hanukah is not a major religious holiday in Judaism, it is an especially festive time in Israel. Right now, as I type this, I am hearing from my window a band on Dizengoff Square performing Hanukah songs.
Last night I enjoyed Hanukah at the home of a cousin of mine. It is a time especially for the children, and the little ones dominated everyone's attention. Gift giving to children is customary, but it is not at all like Christmas (or how Hanukah now tends to be celebrated in the West) with many gifts and substantial gifts to all.

This morning, playwright Hasfari picked me up early and took me to breakfast in the town of Ramla, an ancient town located near Ben Gurion Airport (not to be confused with Ramallah on the West Bank). There we went to a restaurant called Halil, where we ate masabcha, a breakfast hummus that is warm, slightly liquidy and filled with whole chicpeas, with sides of pickles, olives, pita bread and a side order of falafel balls (also good to dip into hummus). This is a locals place that's not easy to find, so it's the kind of thing that an Israeli friend you know or meet while here might be willing to take you to--it's about 20 minutes from Tel Aviv.

Then we drove into the Judean hills, where the coastal plain begins its rise toward Jerusalem's mountain tops. In the Beit Shemesh area, Samson lived and fought the Philistines, who were actually from Santorini but migrated to this area after the great volcano eruption & earthquake there, according to Hasfari.

In this area, too, there are the caves of Lu-Zit, natural caverns that are 50 to 100 feet high, and have been enlarged by ancient residents of the area. Hasfari theorized that they might date back as far as to when the Midianites were pillaging the Israelites, shortly before Samuel was approached by the elders to give them a king (Saul), but little archaeological work has been done here yet, and the place is also off the beaten track to the extent that there are few signs.

Then we visited Bet Gemal, which is today a Catholic monastery located on a site that dates back at least to the Byzantines and probably Biblical times. From there, you can also view the city of Beit Shemesh, which has had an influx of religious Jews settling there in recent years.

Back to Hasfari's place where we had cholent and other great things for lunch, and then it was time to say good bye.

Tonight is my last night here, and I plan to visit the bar Silon on King George that has been my watering hole now for 2 weeks, where I have gotten to know the owners Shugon & Orren, bartenders Michal, Shay and Yael, the waitresses Yael, Talia and Naama, and patrons Yoav, Dan and Eitan. Great music there, very "heimisch" as they say in Yiddish, patrons are mostly age 25-35, but at 54, I felt welcome, comfortable, and made friends.

A final day tomorrow to stroll the streets before heading to the airport.

L'hitraot, Tel Aviv!

Rick

A Day in Tel Aviv-Jaffa

2007-12-06T08:16:00.000-08:00

With the conference now concluded, I spent the morning walking amidst three unique shopping areas in the older section of Tel Aviv. All three begin at the same intersection, branching out from there: the tony Sheinkin Street for more traditional fashion shopping (clothing, accessories, jewelry) and the highly-regarded Orna & Ella restaurant (which I didn't sample this trip); the Nachalat Benjamin, an area of wide pedestrian-only cobblestone streets lined by historic buildings housing mostly textiles, fabrics, home furnishings and jewelry shops, and where you can enjoy a quiet cup of coffee outside without the noisy sounds of traffic drowning out your thoughts; and Carmel Market, the chaotic narrow lanes of vendor stalls hawking everything from some of the most fabulous looking produce I've ever seen to cheese, meat, fish, olives, spices, and also including household items, casual clothing, fashion accessories, etc.

From there, I walked 30 minutes to Jaffa (called Yafo here), and found myself buffeted by gusts of winds as I overlooked the Mediterranean's swelling waves and gathering clouds. Jaffa is a city about 4000 years old, and is a walled enclave on a promontory above the sea, today home to theatres, galleries, a museum and restaurants. Its stone-clad charm is irresistible.

Until next time...

Rick

Israeli Drama in Focus

2007-11-30T01:51:00.000-08:00

One of the things that strikes most of us from around the world attending IsraDrama 2007 in Tel Aviv is that Israel's theatre community addresses head-on the tragic occurrences and implications of the national stalemate with the Palestinians. Nowhere is it more evident than in yesterday's "In Spitting Distance" by Tajer Najib.

"In Spitting Distance" is a monodrama (another term for one-person show) written by an Israeli Arab who is primarily known here as an outstanding actor. Though he wrote this over a 4 year period with himself in mind as the performer, it is being brought to live by another very talented Israeli Arab actor.

The protagonist is a Palestinian actor and the setting is first Ramallah, a few miles north of Jerusalem, in the West Bank territory. The play opens with a description of how, when and why Ramallah men constantly spit, and this becomes a powerful metaphor in the drama's exploration of the untenable position faced by this man.

He takes a vacation from it all in Paris, where he is totally free, and when it is time to return, refreshed, he is stopped at the airport by French authorities over the fact that his name appears differently on his Israeli passport and his airline ticket (explained as being due to his having a birth name and an official registered name), so he returns to town, gets his ticket reissued to match his passport so he can fly the following day, finds romance with a Parisian woman and is tempted to remain. He also realizes to his horror that his new travel day (in 2002) is September 11th, and that a Palestinian attempting to fly to Israel is the brightest red flag any security authorities could possibly be looking for and that this misfortunate coincidence is just another in a long string of ironies in his life.

Artfully directed and performed, it's a stunning piece of theatre; tour bookings around the world are piling up, but it has had only a few performances in Israel.

Why is that? The director, an Israeli woman, and the author agreed they feared it might be exploited for political purposes as an example of Arab-Israeli friendship and cooperation. (It also appears that at least one major institutional theatre passed on producing it even though they offered a reading of it.) That fidelity of purpose has limited its ability to find venues.

Written in Hebrew by this Arab writer, it certainly was intended for an Israeli audience; but recently, Najib created an Arabic version and performed it in northern Israel. (I asked if it had been performed in Ramallah, since that is the home of the character, and while the author and director did not answer specifically, it appeared clear that it has not been seen in Palestinian territories.)

What is remarkable is the high degree of humor in this piece. The man is so endearing, his agitation so pronounced and his observations of the world around him so keen that "In Spitting Distance" is powerfully entertaining. The audience I was part of certainly laughed and engaged fully, but the director said that when it played in Switzerlard, there was nary a laugh, as audiences there took it as deadly serious, which the artists found disconcerting.

Until next time...

Rick

Shakshuka

2007-11-28T01:02:00.000-08:00

Last year, Alison and I discovered a little bar/bistro on Bograshov Street near Ben Yehuda Street, just a couple of blocks from our seaside hotel in Tel Aviv. It was called "Mr. Greenbush," and its 20-something pair of owners were charming, the food was excellent and the atmosphere comfortable. They admitted they were struggling, having opened the place just before that summer's Lebanon war, which killed business.

I returned there last night and it looked the same, but alas, I learned it's been under new ownership for many months and it has a new name..."Pub Lo Bar," which in Hebrew means, "pub--not a bar." Its focus is alcohol now, though it has a small menu for food, and I sampled one of two Shakshuka dishes.

If you're not familiar with this, it's a popular Israeli dish (not sure where it originated) of tomatoes and cheese and eggs. Though it is baked, the eggs are not scrambled or folded in like a souffle, but instead sit in the dish, so you enjoy the wonderful separation of white and yolk. They had an alternative version I will try next time, a Shakshuka with spinach and cream sauce.

Israeli playwright Shmuel Hasfari and I finally connected, and he told me he will take me today "for a plate of hummus." When I mentioned this to Alison, she was shocked: he always said that HE makes the best hummus. Hmmm. We'll see.

Until next time...

Rick

A City That Never Sleeps

2007-11-26T23:48:00.000-08:00

A good thing for my jet lag, too!

Arrived in Tel Aviv yesterday via Delta Airlines from Atlanta, and all went smoothly. I checked into the Hotel Cinema, where the Institute for Israeli Drama is accommodating me. It's the former Esther Cinema on Dizengoff Square, built in 1939 in the International (Bauhaus) style, like much of this area of town. When I first visited Israel forty years ago, Dizengoff Square was a street-level traffic circle with cafes lining it. I'm not sure when it happened, but they raised the pedestrian plaza above the street (good for vehicle traffic flow, I'm sure) and placed a colorful Yakov Agam sculpture/fountain on top. There's more pedestrian activity a couple of blocks south, near Dizengoff Centre, the main center-city shopping mall.

The weather here is similar to what I left in California--warm, sunny days and cooler nights (actually not as cold as San Juan Capistrano over the Thanksgiving weekend, which dipped into the 40s).

So, last night, I took full advantage of this city's fame for burning the candle at both ends, and dined out, then visited a bar and chatted with the locals there, and finally retired at about 3 a.m. (Of course, that was only 5 p.m. California time!)

Up at 8:30 a.m. and ate a light breakfast (included) in the bright dining room. A full report on today's adventures later.

Until next time...

Rick

Tel Aviv Bound

2007-11-24T17:06:00.000-08:00

As Middle East delegations arrive in Annapolis, Maryland next week for the Bush-Rice-engineered parlor games, IsraDrama begins in Tel Aviv, sponsored by the Institute for Israeli Drama, the International Theatre Institute-Israel and the Cameri Theatre of Tel Aviv.

There will be performances of about a dozen plays, the first of which is The Master of the House by Shmuel Hasfari, at the Cameri--the play I directed at the Laguna Playhouse last spring, and about which I will be delivering a talk entitled "Lost & Found in Translation" immediately following the Tel Aviv performance at the opening session of the conference on Wednesday.

I feel honored to have been asked to attend and to speak to the representatives of English-speaking nations from around the world, assembled to be exposed to Israeli drama and encouraged to produce more of it in their own theatres.

As time permits, I'll be sharing with you regular reports on the performances I attend, the people I meet and the sights and sounds of Tel Aviv.

Until next time...

Rick

"The Secret Order"

2007-11-20T09:36:00.000-08:00

One of the most interesting dramas I produced at Laguna Playhouse was Bob Clyman's The Secret Order. It was about a researcher at a midwestern university who discovers the cure for cancer, is seduced into leaving for "the big cancer institute in New York," where he finds himself out of his league politically as well as utterly and inexplicably unable to replicate his earlier results.

The play was very well received in Laguna in our 2003 West Coast Premiere, by audiences and critics alike, and as it already had a commercial producer attached to it at the time, we had high hopes it might make it to Broadway. There were celebrity readings in LA and New York, directed by Milton Katselas, featuring the likes of Stacey Keachand Martin Landau (in LA) and Eli Wallach and Richard Dreyfuss (in NY).

Producer Norman Twain then lined up a theatre and actor John Spencer (of West Wing) for Broadway. Spencer's untimely death delayed the project until Ed Hermann said yes to Twain, then had to back out for a more lucrative film or tv project. Twain got busy with film projects and the play couldn't make it into the 2006-07 New York season.

At that point, author Bob Clyman requested that the Merrimack Theatre Company in Lowell, Massachusetts, be allowed to produce it. There, directed by Charles Towers, it was also well-received by audiences and critics.

Well, that production came into New York this week, Off Broadway at the 59E59 Theatres, and today earned the best New York Times review any Laguna Playhouse-related play has ever garnered in that publication. Here's the review.

On the strength of The Secret Order, and my continuing relationship with author Bob Clyman, I secured the World Premiere rights to his latest play last year, Tranced, which will have its debut in January. Having sent it to my friend and colleague Timothy Near at San Jose Rep, she got equally excited by it and programmed it for their season immediately following the Laguna premiere. I have not doubt more productions will follow.

Bob is an intelligent writer whose craft has been recognized by many in the theatre world for some time. Indeed, he was a writer in residence one summer at the Eugene O'Neill Theatre Center's National Playwrights Conference, one of the premier springboards for writers (e.g. August Wilson).

Kudos to Bob on having a New York hit, and here's to many more!

Until next time...

Rick

A Day Without Art?

2007-11-18T13:48:00.000-08:00

I'd like to call your attention to this article in today's New York Times, entitled "Who'll stop the ring tones," about the third annual "No Music Day" in the UK this coming Wednesday, invented and promoted by Bill Drummond.

Though it's unrelated, it made me think about the World AIDS Day December 1st "Day Without Art" in the U.S. to commemorate the many artists lost to AIDS. Though noble in intent, this is something that I never quite bought into as the best way to contribute to public awareness of AIDS or to generate funds for AIDS research and victims. One particular LA Times reporter tried to beat up on the Laguna Playhouse when we said we were not cancelling performances on the "Day Without Art," but were providing literature about AIDS and conducting an event to raise funds; we could only satisfy her if we closed down for the day, and we never believed that was in the best interests of anyone. Today, "Day Without Art" is still observed by some arts organizations, with museums hanging black cloth over sculptures and paintings as a sign of mourning and respect. For me, I think Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS has the right idea--for a set period of time, they pitch the audience during their curtain calls and then the cast members (including major starts) stand at the exits to collect any donations people are willing to make.

The show must go on, and it's sad that many friends and loved ones did not survive this disease to be on stage and behind the scenes, but I am quite certain that this is how they would prefer their memories to be honored.

Until next time...

Rick

"The Umbrellas of Cherbourg"

2007-11-17T19:44:00.000-08:00

Alison DVRed this, which neither of us had ever seen, and we watched it tonight. This 1964 movie musical featuring Catherine Deneuve and the music of Michel Legrand is a novelty. All of the dialogue is sung a la opera recitative. There are two signature tunes in the film that you will recognize, most notably "If it takes forever, I will wait for you." The boy-meets-girl-boy-gets-her-pregnant-on-his-last-night-before-going-into-the-army story is bland and predictable. The production design presages the psychedelic colors of the later 60s. Deneuve looks like she is the 17 year old she is playing--almost unrecognizable from the actress we have come to know and love. I wouldn't suggest that you run out and rent it, but if you ever have the chance to sample some of it, it's a most unusual experiment that is very much of its time, and worth taking a taste of even if you ultimately don't have the patience to sit the whole film out.

Until next time...

Rick

Suzanne Vega

2007-11-17T08:11:00.000-08:00

Last night, we went to San Juan Capistrano's Coach House, an intimate concert venue that's been around for many years, to experience Suzanne Vega.

We've been fans of hers for about 15 years, and I think we first discovered her when we were in England and saw vivid posters of her newly released album "99.9 Degrees." Upon our return, we visited a favorite place of ours, the CD Listening Bar, where we sat at a counter and freely listenened to any CDs they had in stock, many of which were used and inexpensive. After hearing her work, we stocked up on several of her albums and have kept current with them ever since.

Last night was the second time we saw her perform at the Coach House--she paid a visit there 5 years ago. But I think last night's performance may have been the better of the two. Her new album, "Beauty & Crime," came out in July, and is characteristic of her eclecticism while at the same time exploring a theme: life in post-9/11 New York City.

The concert was bookended by two versions of her signature song, "Tom's Diner," which is about Tom's Restaurant on Broadway and 112th Street. Most people know it as the place where the Seinfeld gang congregate, and the TV show frequently included an exterior establishing shot of the place. When I attended Columbia University, I ate there hundreds of times -- mostly for their 99 cent breakfast. Vega wrote and recorded the song in 1981, long before Seinfeld came on the air, by the way. Upon her entrance, she launched into her solo a cappella version of the song, inviting the audience to join in humming between the verses--which we all did. At the conclusion of the concert, she offered a juiced up take on it with her band, ambushing us all--then chastised us at the end for not having sung along.

Vega has a comfortable, breezy on stage persona, and fielded with great aplomb the numerous song requests called out to her by attendees (only one of which she played, as an encore). She said she was flattered to hear the suggestions and that, yes, she actually "remembered" some of those songs. One suggestion surprised her; she said there was no way she was doing it, but promised to offer it the next time she came back to the Coach House--after rehearsing it!

The concert was a fairly equal mix of songs from "Beauty & Crime" and her previous work. Most of the older songs were delivered in new renditions; for example, "Left of Center," her famous song from the film "Pretty in Pink." Instead of leaning on its sing-songy quality with full back up as it appears on the recording I have (a live album), Vega sang it accompanied only by her skilled bass player. She imposed an unnatural staccato syncopation to it, demonstrating it's just as great a song when played against "type."

She left us wanting more, which isn't a bad thing.

Until next time...

Rick

Aloha

2007-11-15T11:54:00.001-08:00

Hanalei Bay at sunset

Wailua Falls

Spouting Horn

Kalalau Overlook

Waimea Canyon

Hanalei Bay

Alison & I just returned from paradise--a week's stay with our generous host friends, Dick & Betty Schweickert, in their new condo overlooking Hanalei Bay in Kauai.

This was our first time visiting Hawaii, and we often hear people say Kauai is the island to visit. We soon learned why.

The spectacular sheer cliffs of the Na Pali coast and the Kalalau valley, the Waimea Canyon (Hawaii's own "Grand Canyon") and the idyllic Hanalei Bay on the north shore are surreal.

Snorkeling several days in the reef about 50 feet from the beach, we encountered the famous Humuhumunukunukuapuaa, also known as the triggerfish, and I swam further out in the reef where I coasted along with four-foot long sea turtles! We figured we had seen at least 30 different varieties of fish in the reef.

Dining was superb everywhere we went, from the casual to the fine.

But most of all, it was just a relaxing place to be--80 degrees air and water temperature with gentle trade winds blowing, the occasional shower passing through and providing a great canvas for sunsets, and the vast sky of twinkling orbs and the Milky Way at night.

2007-10-30T20:17:00.000-07:00

I first learned about the suicides on the Israeli side of the Zinshtein family after my first visit there in 1967. They were all cousins and aunts and uncles of the same family, a family I had spent time with at the age of 14 while attending high school in Israel.

Later I heard it said that there was a relatively high suicide rate in Israel, and took it as a truism until I sat down to write this post and decided to verify that. It turns out that Israel's suicide rate is actually among the lowest in the world and half that of the U.S.

The Israel Zinstein I mentioned previously (the one with 7 wives) had a son named Max Siegel who came to American in 1900. He became estranged from his wife and daughters and eventually committed suicide.

I had never heard that, but when I mentioned it to my mother, she remembered that she had heard about it from my father.

The Zinshtein descendents in Israel who died by their own hands included one of my own generation. There were at least two--with two additional family members whose accidental deaths appear to have been suicides as well.

Fortunately, I know of nobody else in my extended family who took their own life, nor do I know of any friend or acquaintance who did.

I never knew any of those Israeli cousins well enough to know what possibly motivated them nor has that information ever been shared with me.

My next quest is to identify who is the real "black sheep" in our family, and you can be sure when I do it will appear here (though, perhaps, with the name changed to protect the innocent!).

Until next time...

Rick

Juicy Bits

2007-10-30T08:47:00.000-07:00

As promised, from the Zinshtein history...

My grandfather's uncle Israel, born in 1837, is reputed to have had 7 wives. Not sure if they were concurrent; unlikely they all were, since so many women died during childbirth in the old days. But, it is said that he took young wives even when he was quite old. An explanation: the Zinshtein family are "kohens," that is, of the priestly class. We have the privilege of being first to be called to the reading of the Torah and the obligation of conveying the priestly blessing during prayer services ("May the Lord bless you and keep you, etc."). Kohanim (the actual plural) are forbidden from contact with the dead, from entering cemeteries even, and are only permitted to wed virgins. Israel had at least 5 children from 4 of the wives, but little else is known of him.

One of Israel's grandchildren, Boris, was an assistant to Leon Trotsky. He was killed by bandits in his home region of Podolsk.

Another grandchild of Israel's, named Esther, married Alexander Zazulinsky, who was posthumously awarded the Order of Lenin for crashing his plane into a squadron of German tanks during the Battle of Stalingrad in 1942.

The husband of a first cousin of my grandfather was accused by Soviet authorities as being a "kulak," a sort of uppity, bourgeois, farmer who overlorded peasants. Velvel Testzer and his sons were sent to a notorious "gulag" near Archangel, called Solovki. At some point they were returned to a prison camp that was apparently in their home region of Podolsk. Eventually, they were able to return to Staro Zakrevsky Meidan, their village--just in time for more bad luck: they were shot to death by the Nazis & Ukrainians in 1942 along with all the other Jews in their village.

My next segment will be about another dark aspect of my Zinshtein heritage.

Until next time...

Rick

Genealogy

2007-10-28T08:25:00.000-07:00

Last year, a cousin provided me with a handwritten family tree of my father's side of the family, and recently another cousin sent me a history of the family. I've been compiling the latter into the former and attempting to update and reconcile some differences.

Because the family name is Zinshtein (also spelled Zinshteyn and Zinstein), a rather unusual name meaning in Yiddish "sun-stone," it's been easy to Google-up references, and I've discovered several who must somehow be related but I don't yet know how. One, in fact, is a somewhat famous artist in Russia today.

Here are a few tidbits about my family:

The Ur-Zinshtein, our earliest-known relative, our "primogenitor," so to speak, was born in Felshtin in a Tsarist-controlled province called Podolsk (aka Podolia) which is now Gvardeyskoye in present-day Ukraine. His name was Ber and he is believed to have been born in 1770, and died in 1844. Like most Jews there at that time, he did not have a surname, but was probably known as Ber ben ??, or Ber, the son of ??.

His son Mordechai, born in 1787, was the first to carry the name Zinshtein. He and his wife Blima (born in 1788) had three sons, Aaron, Moshe and Srul (probably short for Israel). In 1846, the three men moved about 75 miles away to Staro Zakrevsky Meidan, a Jewish agricultural colony on land that was purchased from local owners/authorities with the approval of the Tsar, and had been established two years earlier. It was the first, largest and, reputedly, most prosperous of such colonies.

Aaron's youngest son, Abraham, was my grandfather Joseph's father. Joseph came to the U.S. in 1918 after his older brother Charles had come here. And grandpa returned in 1920 to Staro Zakrevsky Meidan (literally "Old Zakrevsky's Farm") where he married my grandmother. By the time of their voyage to America in 1921, she was pregnant with my father, Bernie, who was born in New York that year.

Those Zinshteins who emigrated to the U.S. (and there were several) or to Palestine (primarily one branch) were lucky--most of the remaining family and other Jews in that community were rounded up by the Nazis and Ukrainians and shot to death in 1942.

More details on my discoveries in a future post--some juicy stories to come.

Until next time...

Rick

Can I sell you some land in Syria?

2007-10-27T15:29:00.000-07:00

Don't know if you've been keeping abreast of the evolving story about the site Israel is not saying whether or not it attacked in Syria a month ago that the U.S. is not saying whether or not it knows anything about and that the Syrian government is not saying it hasn't dismantled since the non-attack in order to escape further scrutiny over possible international law violations.

Today's NYTimes carried the blue-ish photo from 2003 showing it under construction, stating:

The long genesis is likely to raise questions about whether the Bush administration overlooked a nascent atomic threat in Syria while planning and executing a war in Iraq, which was later found to have no active nuclear program....The new image may give ammunition to those in the administration, including Ms. Rice, who call for diplomacy. If North Korea started its Syrian aid long ago, the officials could argue that the assistance was historical, not current, and that diplomacy should move ahead....Jeffrey Lewis, an expert on nuclear proliferation at the New America Foundation in Washington, said it was surprising from the photos how little progress had been made at the site between 2003 and 2007. But Mr. Lewis said it was ironic that Syria might have been trying to build a nuclear program just as the United States was invading Iraq in the fear that Iraq was developing nuclear arms.

The other photos are from August of this year (with building) and September of this year (after the Israeli attack & Syria's deconstruction). All of these satellite photos are from independent sources verified with other independent satellite companies and published this week for the first time.

Having one of those days?

2007-10-26T15:32:00.000-07:00

As an added benefit to his clients, my brother offers an opt-in listserve for jokes. Post-them or read them, and caveat emptor!

This photo came over the wireless today, titled

"Another Chinese toy recalled."

That was certainly funny, but I thought there could be a lot of different titles for this same picture, such as the title of today's blog.

Feel free to suggest your own by posting a comment below.

Until next time...

Rick

Breathing Easier

2007-10-25T07:40:00.000-07:00

I'm not just talking about knowing the immediate danger is over, but also the fact that we went from dust-storm air to smokey-air yesterday, with flecks of ash landing on our patio (and undoubtedly in our lungs), to what feels like cleaner air today--relatively speaking for Southern California, of course.

My cousin Eve lives very close to some of the fires, near Magic Mountain, and I e-mailed her to find out how they are doing. This was her reply:

Yes it's been pretty scarey around here. My mother in law and sister in law had to evacuate the other night with their pets. The fire went up to their side yard. Our house is fine, just smokey ashes everywhere. People at work were evacuating so Monday was pretty empty at the office. Our favorite pumpkin patch burned down. Ive gone there since Andrew was a baby.

Andrew has just completed his freshman year at Cal Poly-San Luis Obispo, by the way.

When I read in the Orange County Register that the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego had canceled performances, I added a comment about the 1993 Laguna Beach fire that came very close to destroying my theatre, which you can read here.

Until next time...

Rick

I Spoke Too Soon

2007-10-24T07:46:00.001-07:00

This morning's view shows that we are now enjoying a ceiling above us of smoke. In the close-up, you can see the plume of smoke to the left. That is from the Santiago Canyon fire in Orange County, about 15 miles from us. The winds pretty much died by last evening here, which helps the firefighters, but sticks us with bad air.

This brought back memories of the 1993 fires, which came a matter of feet from my theatre in Laguna and about 3 miles from our San Juan Capistrano home. We feel fortunate that we are safe from it all today, but the news reports that 1,500 homes in Southern California have been lost and the many of the fires are still far from being contained.

Until next time...

Rick

What a Difference a Day Makes

2007-10-23T08:58:00.000-07:00

The winds died down last night, but have just started to come up again this morning--they predict a few days of this. Fortunately for us the nearest fire is Lake Forest/Irvine area, which is about 12-15 miles away. Quite a different view today, isn't it?

Until next time...

Rick

Desert Storm

2007-10-22T18:09:00.000-07:00

I'm not referring to Iraq, here, but to the fiercest Santa Ana conditions we've experienced in 20 years of living in Southern California. What you are looking at is the view from our patio across the valley, golf course, foothills and 5,000 foot Santiago Peak. What do you mean, "I can't see them?"

Precisely.

Until next time...

Rick

The Latest Trend in Breaching Theatre Etiquette

2007-10-21T06:08:00.000-07:00

I read this piece by Peter Marks, theatre critic of the Washington Post today.

I'm not surprised.

Until next time...

Rick

TripAdvisor Incident Becoming Revolution

2007-10-20T07:23:00.000-07:00

In the past few days, there's been a flurry of e-mails among frequenters of the TripAdvisor.com Israel Forum and the management there regarding the incident I wrote about here previously. My discussion of dealing with issues when visiting the Western Wall are, apparently, just the tip of the iceberg over TripAdvisor's overly zealous policy of removing posts and topics. The thought is that there may be some disgruntled customers or political or religious activists who click on "Report post as inappropriate" whenever they see something remotely connected to certain topics or to exact revenge on some posters whom they feel have bad-mouthed them. It is, after all, supposed to be "self-policing," but one of the key Forum participants points out that she's observed commercial posts and posts promoting prostitution in the Bulgaria Forum, and suspects that the Israel Forum is being singled out for greater scrutiny.

This week, the TripAdvisor management is again discussing the issue and we'll see if there is any relaxation of its removal of posts or in its policy of what are acceptable topics. I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, the OC Register recently changed its posting policies, too, in order to eliminate anonymous hate posts to its blogs and in reaction to its articles.

I read Haaretz, the Israeli daily paper, and you should read some of the anonymous responses posted there--from virulent anti-Semitic, anti-Israel diatribes to knee-jerk, Israel is perfect, Judaism is the only way responses, and everything in between.

Is that no-holds-barred kind of forum of greater value? Not in my opinion. There's got to be a middle-ground between overly strict censorship of such forums and offensive commentary.

Until next time...

Rick

Evolving online resources

2007-10-19T01:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was thinking about the growing depth of online resources that were simply unavailable even just a few years ago, and how dependent upon them we've become.

Some of us are still just getting used to the computer age.

I was reminded, too, that I obtained my first computer back in about 1984. Though I already had one at work for about a year, my brother had connected to a guy who helped people assemble their own PCs at considerably less cost than purchasing retail. He guided us through this at a community college classroom one evening. It was easy and de-mystified the "guts" of the hardware.

Of course, software was a whole other matter in those days, and one actually had to learn at least a little DOS to make one's PC function. And, ah, those monochrome screens, weren't they delightful? (I opted for the "new" amber color over the hideous, ubitquitous green.)

OK, so that was over 20 years ago--eons in technological time. But how about the internet?

Most businesses posted sites beginning about 10 years ago, and they were often crudely built, with little interactivity. The fact that today we do everything from investing and banking online to networking with strangers is amazing.

Much of this is self-evident, of course--in other words, we now take it all for granted.

In preparing for my upcoming trip to Israel, though, there are definitely some tools on the internet that weren't around even a couple of years ago. Trip Advisor has become the site to visit for anyone preparing a trip anywhere--the Zagat's guide to travel, so to speak, driven by user reviews and forums. It even allows you to map the places you've visited and place that into your profile, which I have done. (Search for me as rictheater to find it there.)

That led me to a site I had visited about a year ago, but forgotten about: Google Earth. It's more sophisticated now, having added views of space (!), but its basic attraction is still there: the ability to zoom down from satellite views of any place on the planet to fairly detailed aerial views of most of them. They now have a wiki-community that posts photos and links identified by little dots on their relief maps. Some sites are quite detailed, like Washington, D.C., while the city my brother lives in, Winchester, Virginia, is a total blur. I can't imagine it will be for very long, as Google conquers the world (and it will).

I've begun mapping significant places in my life -- placing pushpin icons on them and saving them as My Places in Google Earth. Alison was teasing me about spending time doing this, but I told her I thought it was no different than doing crossword puzzles, which we both do, and she agreed.

So, for now, I'm crafting a map of my life. Mine has locations around the world, but even if someone has lived his entire life in one town, it's possible to pushpin every building one has entered on Google Map, and that says a lot (what it says is another matter, however.)

Until next time...

Rick

Bob the Cat

2007-10-16T06:27:00.000-07:00

A neighbor of ours was on a cruise to Mexico with her brother, tripped over an unsecured photographer's cable and broke her hip. She's been in the hospital this week and moved yesterday to a nursing care facility. Her physical therapy is going well, she's quite fit for her age, so the prognosis is good.

We've been looking in on her, taking her the mail, checking on her house, etc. We brought her some photos of Bob, our cat, too, which really cheered her up. When we first adopted Bob (from other neighbors who were moving to Hawaii and didn't want to put him through the quarantine), this neighbor also knew Bob, but wasn't very fond of him. He is an outdoor cat during the day (nighttime, too, if he can get away with it--but coyotes live in the 'hood, so we do our best to prevent that) and he used to wander into her yard, which she didn't like. Actually, he used to have a pretty big territory, but now that he's almost 12 years old, he's content to stick closer to home. Still, he continues to believe that both neighbors' yards are his territory--one is where he originally lived, the other he has laid claim to on his own.
We asked our neighbor to feed him when we went away a few years ago, and despite her feelings about him she agreed. After that, she was "hooked" on Bob, and always looks forward to caring for him when we travel.

We sometimes refer to him as "Bob the cat" to distinguish him from "Bob the brother." We didn't name the cat (or the brother) but opted not to change it after we adopted him. Of course, we have many sickeningly cute terms of endearment for him which I'm too embarrassed to share with you!

Until next time...

Rick

Another "Mondegreen"

2007-10-13T16:50:00.000-07:00

Alison reminded me this afternoon that I have another "famous" mondegreen we always laugh at--also by Joni Mitchell and also from the Hissing of Summer Lawns album.

It's in the song "Harry's House/Centerpiece," which is sort of a diptych or medley, with "Centerpiece" sandwiched into "Harry's House" in a daydreamy diversion from the main song.

Anyway, here are the lyrics of this section:

The more I'm with you, pretty baby

The more I feel my love increase

I'm building all my dreams around you

Our happiness will never cease

'Cause nothing's any good without you

Baby you're my centerpiece

We'll find a house and garden somewhere

Along a country road a piece

A little cottage on the outskirts

Where we can really find release

'Cause nothing's any good without you

Baby you're my centerpiece

Well, folks, I used to sing "Baby you're my centipede"--mostly because I couldn't understand clearly what Joni was singing and I hadn't taken the time to check the lyrics!

How's that for a mondegreen!

Send me yours.

Until next time....

Rick

International Incident Provoked

2007-10-11T17:30:00.000-07:00

I started a topic in the Trip Advisor Forums on travel to Israel that provoked quite a response.

Titling it "The Western Wall Experience - Be Prepared," I started off by saying that this happens at many religious sites in the holy land, but that my experience visiting the "Wailing" Wall, Judaism's holiest site in 2005 was pretty much ruined by being approached insistently by religious men wanting to take me up to the Wall to pray and expecting me to pay them for this. I would be happy to pay an entrance fee or make an obligatory donation that helps preserve the site, but this felt smarmy.

The first responder in the Forum questioned why Trip Advisor had allowed my posting, as he saw it as malicious, and several others posted rebuttals. But one brave soul, a Trip Advisor "Local Expert on Israel" defended me, verified that he had similar experiences at the Wall, and that the Forum should be a place for all to learn the good & bad of the travel adventure that is Israel.

Anyway, 18 postings later, I feel good about raising the topic. I think that anyone visiting the Wall who knows this in advance will be better prepared to enjoy their visit.

Causing an "international incident" runs in the family--but I'll leave that story for another day.

Until next time...

Rick