The 2009 disappointments continue

Though on a smaller scale than being denied my Canadian Visa. So far:

Friday 13th.

Yes, I know it seems unlikely that I would be disappointed over this remake. But I am. See, Marcus Nispel directed the Texas Chainsaw remake, which I loved and was terrified by. So I had high hopes that he would take the reins of this franchise reboot and deliver another nerve jangling treat. No such luck. I love love love the original so for me, alarm bells began to ring when a horribly edited opening credits sequence showed a Crystal Lake camp counsellor offing Mrs Vorhees right after she's given all the exposition required. Everybody knows the true joy of the original is Betsy Palmer's delicious turn as the batshit crazy mother of Jason when she's revealed as the killer. I can't believe they didn't get someone like Jessica Lange to ham it up as the deranged slasher this time around. For shame.

So anyway, it fast forwards to the present day and after a bunch of nobodys get offed by Jason, the action swings to another bunch of worthless cretins you will recognise from TV shows past and present as well as films with (for God's sake) Shia LaBoeuf. The great thing is, Nispel and the writers make the rookie mistake of having each of them be vastly irritating to the point where you're actively rooting for Jason to kill them, just so you don't have to listen to them anymore. Jared Padalecki is the hero of the piece, the loner outsider searching for his missing sister (she was one of the nobodys in the first bunch and because she looks a little bit like his mother, Jason has not killed her, he's keeping her in the basement. Whatthefuckever.) So when the people you don't care about have all been picked off in a variety of bloody ways (usually after they've had sex or been unnecessarily naked, of course), we're left with Padalecki and his sister to bring down Jason.

There is not one single good thing about this film. Not one. The writing is terrible, the acting embarrassing, the direction ham fisted. There's no sense of menace, there's no sense of horror or fear, it even fumbles the cheap shock, make you jump moments. It is, in a word, shit. And what is so frustrating is it could have been fantastic. In more capable hands, this could have been the horror franchise reboot the fans have been waiting for. But no, instead it's an unholy mess and I just hope the sequel baiting ending doesn't come to pass.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Yeah, make that The Tedious Case and you have a title closer to my opinion of the movie. Wow it was long and boring. I genuinely don't understand the hype and awards buzz around this one. It was pleasant enough to watch but it was kind of like a Chinese takeaway. I didn't really notice it at the time and I'd forgotten it about 20 minutes later. I wanted to love it as I love Cate Blanchett, I love Tilda Swinton and who doesn't love Brad? But it left me cold and it left me more than a little bored too. And I found the Katrina framing of the piece very heavy handed. Shame.

Heroes

It is becoming more and more apparent that the writers and creators of this show didn't expect to be a hit and therefore never thought beyond their first season. The second, strike interrupted, season was hated by pretty much everyone and the efforts to atone for that in the third season saw the show become increasingly fractured, misguided, overstuffed and underwhelming. The third season has two books, the first book, "Villains" failed on just about every level and if you want evidence, check out the two part episode "The Eclipse" which was trumpeted as a key and important episode but was instead everyone wandering around without powers for two episodes while absolutely nothing happened.

Book Four, "Fugitives", is only two episodes in and I already hate it. There are still too many characters splitting the focus and not enough of them are interesting enough for me to care about anymore (in fact, only the extended Petrelli family in the main storyline are worth bothering with). The ONLY thing worth watching the show for now is Sylar and his increasingly fascinating arc. It's like his scenes wandered in from a different show altogether, the level of writing and acting in them is so far removed from the dross of the rest of the show.

TV Remote (lack of) Control

I blogged before about how discovering the joy of downloading TV shows and being able to hook up my laptop to the huge TV in the lounge has freed me from the tyranny of the UK scheduling, where everything is on a Thursday at 9pm, or a Sunday at 10pm. Apparently no other time slots exist. Even so, I'm watching a whole hell of a lot of shows right now. From the earlier TV post, some shows have fallen by the wayside but I've picked up several others. The current schedule looks like this:

Sunday

United States Of Tara

Monday

24
Big Bang Theory
Chuck
The Closer
Heroes
Gossip Girl
Medium
Trust Me

Tuesday

The Mentalist
Nip/Tuck
Rescue Me (starting March 10th)
Reaper (starting March 17th)

Wednesday

Damages
Lie To Me
Lost

Thursday

Bones
Supernatural
Ugly Betty

Friday

Battlestar Galactica
Dollhouse (starting February 13th)

For those keeping count, by the time the three shows yet to start are running, I'll be juggling some 21 shows. Not sure I wholly agree with EW that TV's recent golden age is over just yet.

Naked Farmer for February 2009

Wow it's already February. And since 2009 got off to such a sucky suckass beginning and it is currently snowing fit to beat the band, here's a little something to bring the sunshine in.

Oh good, 2009 sucks too!

Less than one month into 2009 and it's sucking harder than 2008. How is this possible? Well, see, early last year I filed an application for permanent residency in Canada. It takes years to process so I didn't bother mentioning it on here as it wasn't terribly interesting at the time. In November of 2008, the Canadian government changed how many professions were eligible to file for the permanent residency visa, reducing it from hundreds to just 38. Mine was not one of the remaining 38, so when the government then retroactively applied the change to all applications filed in 2008, mine was rejected.

Cocksucker motherfucker. And of course, despite the fact I have it in writing that if my application is unsuccessful, my law firm would return all my legal fees unless I lied on the application, I am not being refunded. I'm currently pointing out to them it's not terribly fair to withhold my refund under these circumstances and they are of course ignoring me. Sigh. So now I need a whole new B plan, which I will begin to formulate after I'm done licking my wounds.

Winner!

2008 wasn't a brilliant year for me in many ways, not least of them cinematic. I didn't even bother with a top ten last year I found it so uninspiring. And when a film arrives on the crest of the critically adoring wave only to be from a director I don't think has delivered a watchable film since 1995, then my overwhelming response is "meh".

So I'm really glad that Slumdog Millionaire was so completely wonderful. It did not put a foot wrong for its whole 120 minute running time. It was wonderfully written, it was superbly acted and it was pretty flawlessly directed. The viewer is drawn in to a story that is by turns funny, sad, dramatic, stomach churning, heartbreaking, nailbiting and of course uplifting. It's colourful, it's loud, it's kinetic, it has a killer soundtrack and if you're not wrestling with a lump in your throat (or indeed blubbing like the homo you are, PCB) over the inspired Bollywood end credits, then you have no soul. Slumdog has kicked off 2009 in fine style as the best film I've seen in quite some time. Here's hoping it's just the tip of the iceberg.

Naked Farmer: The 2009 Return

So this year, my secret Santa bought to me another naked people calendar. This time, it's firemen. There was a website noted on the calendar, so I though "fantastic! I can do the same thing I did last year, only with firemen instead of farmers". Now, there's a sentence. But, I went to the website, only to find it doesn't exist. The farmers, though, are far more organised. So here it is. The naked farmer for January 2009. Enjoy.

People, is this any way to start a new year?

So last night, for reasons I still can't quite work out, I went to the roadshow presentation of Che. The cinema just down the road from me was showing it, in its 4 hour 17 minute glory. The start time was listed at 6:45pm, so I figured it would be done by 11pm and I'd be home not long after.

Wrong-o. There was 20 minutes of pointless faff at the beginning and a 25 minute interval between the two parts so the whole thing took five hours from start to finish. The irony is it was only ever good and watchable (admittedly with an insanely amazing performance from Benicio Del Toro), it never really tipped over into being great. Oh well.

I forget, every time I go to this cinema that, as it's the local "arthouse" cinema, the level of pretentious film snob conversations I overhear tend to make me want to kick people. When I saw La Vie En Rose there, for example, I overheard someone saying "yah yah, well of course Charles did see Edith perform in Paris." Oh fuck off. Last night's little gem was someone commenting to their friend that the last time they'd seen a film here it was Terrence Malick's A New World. He then spent a few minutes waxing rhapsodic about Malick and how wonderful Thin Red Line and New World are before saying "I mean, I find it really challenging to stay awake during them, but they're so amazing". I had to really fight the urge to tap him on the shoulder and say "when a film bores you into unconsciousness, I don't think you really think they're good, do you?"

Bye bye 2008!

As 2008 gasps its last breath, is there anyone looking back at the last 12 months and thinking "that was awesome, let's do it all again next year!"? Anyone? Bueller?

While there were some fun times, on the whole my 2008 was a lousy pile of suck. Personally and professionally, it's been a fucking difficult and not at all fun year. I've come very close to quitting and (I recently discovered) I came quite close to being sacked. I don't have a boyfriend, I'm still in masses of debt, blah blah blah.

And 2009 doesn't look like it's going to be any more fun right now. So, for the first time in a while, I'm making some resolutions that will give me some focus and hopefully make 2009 that little bit more bearable than 2008.

1. Join Facebook. Resistance is apparently futile. I will not be playing any fucking Scrabble though.

2. Lose weight. I battled with my weight this year and did manage to drop 30 pounds. While that's not to be sniffed at, it's not exactly earth shattering either. I can, and will, do better.

3. Hit my savings target. I have a goal and I'm not exactly a million miles away from it. I have to dip in to the savings next month to bail out the New York trip but after that I have to sort my shit out and knuckle down so that by this time next year, my savings goal has been reached and I can breathe easy.

There that's it. I know it's hardly an exhaustive list but given that my only resolution for the past few years has been to not make any resolutions, I think that's pretty good.

A Bit Of A Do(n't)

I'm sure it can have escaped nobody's attention that it's the holiday season and Christmas is so very nearly upon us. We're firmly into "Work Christmas Party" time. I work for one of the bazillions of companies that have been negatively impacted by the global recession so the festivities were on something of a smaller scale than in previous years.

And yet still, somehow, it managed to be a messy messy evening. I had originally planned to stay for one or two drinks and be home at a reasonable hour. Why I planned this I do not know as it never ever works. So of course, there I was at midnight, seven hours after arriving, drunk off my ass, snogging straight boys (who had snogged me first), snogging girls (who asked me to), telling people things I swore I would never breathe a word of (in vino veritas to the max). It actually got pretty intense for a while too. For the people keeping score, I have been hating my job for a fair while now. When I was really in the thick of hating it, I was acting out a lot and not really thinking about what I was doing. Never a wise move and I got into a long and drawn out conversation with a colleague about what issues that behaviour had caused. It was not fun. Luckily I'm in a better place and was able to deal with it, but on top of the unexpected tongue kissing and the blabbing about all the people on our floor that I would have sex with and whose cocks I'd taken peeks at at the urinals in the staff toilets, it was all just a little much.

Yesterday was lost to hangover (I haven't had a hangover in a really long time, so I wallowed) and I am supposed to be at the gym right now but I find myself still in bed, updating the blog on my laptop. I got really sick when I came back from NYC, I got a really bad cold/very mild flu and was off work for a day and a half with it last week. I am still waking up with a tight chest and wheezing like an 80 a day smoker with emphysema so I figure it's not wise to go charging to the gym unless i want to end up in an oxygen tent or something. But it's frustrating the everloving crap out of me! I feel really fat and bloaty right now and just want to be back in the routine at the gym. Said routine is going to be even more thrown out of whack in the next two weeks by Christmas and New Year. I am in the dangerous place whereby if i lose my impetus I may never go back and that CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN!

"The phrase 'Mom's pussy' seemed a bit gauche"

On Saturday, I went to see August: Osage County at the National. The jet lag came back around for a last hurrah and woke me at 4am. Consequently I was concerned I would nod off during the show. Not a chance. I was rivetted to my seat for every single one of the show's 210 minutes.



Arriving in the UK on a tidal wave of acclaim and awards, we get 9 out of 13 original Steppenwolf cast members and of the 4 additions, only one of them has had no previous affiliation to the show. It's a pretty fucking top class ensemble with some absolutely mind bendingly fantastic performances. Deanna Dunagan may have won the lion's share of the performance awards, but for me Amy Morton absolutely stole the show.

And what a show. It is one of the most well crafted, exquisitely well observed and written, wonderfully staged and flawlessly directed shows I've seen. Ever. Is it a perfect play? Of course not. It's slow to start and takes its sweet time to get to the final curtain too. It has perhaps one subplot too many and veers a little too strongly toward soap opera every so often. But these, you must understand, are minor quibbles. Is the show an American masterpiece? Without a doubt. I am a little saddened that it's closing here on January 21st at the end of its 8 week limited run. I would love to see it again. And again. As it is I will have to cherish the memory of one of the most glorious afternoons in my theatrical history.

I love Will Young

I didn't watch a single second of Pop Idol when it started in the UK. I didn't really care when Will beat stuttering Gareth Gates to the title. I didn't even care that much when he came out. But when he began to free himself from the shackles of Pop Idol and produced some great songs as well as proving that he could really sing, I began to be interested. Also, in every interview he ever gives, he always seems very sweet, funny and self effacing, not to mention genuinely happy to be where he is and loving doing what he's doing. Compare his attitude to some other people who got their start the same way he did (Alex Parks, Girls Aloud), and it's easy to see why he's so popular.

Currently in the middle of a concert hall, rather than arena sized, tour to promote his latest (and I think best) album, Let It Go, I went to see him perform the other night. And I was blown away. He was fabulous, funny, energetic (a friend who had seen him earlier in the tour said it was like watching Tigger, and I have to agree). This is the first time I'd seen him live and I do think this type of performance (just him and a band, no fuss no mess) suits him down to the ground. Apparently his arena tour for the Keep On album was fabulous too but here's hoping he's found his niche and continues touring like this for the foreseeable.

Also, what a difference a new camera makes! Comparing these pics to the Tori Amos non events of last year, well, there is truly no comparison.

Naked Farmer for December

So here he is. 2008's naked farmer swansong. I feel a little bit sad that it's all over.

One more step to the top of the city

So when I was in NYC, I did something touristy for the first time in ages. Usually I just hang out with my friends, eat drink, make merry, see shows and shop. While some of that could be deemed touristy, I never really do sightseeing type things. But I went to Top of the Rock, since I'd never been there and I've done the Empire State Building a few times. I took some pics with my new camera and I am actually genuinely proud of some of them.

I went up just as the sun was setting and it made for some really pretty pics I think.






I also took a pic of Radio City just because it looked so gosh darned purty.



And I went to the top of the new TKTS booth in Times Square, since the back of it is now a giant staircase, and took some pics from there too.





The middle picture there is also the wallpaper on my iPhone now. It's easy to forget just how beautiful NYC can be so I'm glad I took these pics to remind me.

The play's (not) the thing, Part Two

So here I am, all packed and waiting for the car to come and take me to the airport so I thought I would fill in the time with updating on the final shows I saw on my trip.

You CAN Stop The Beat

Just getting a head start on all the article headlines that will be published on Jan 4th. I had a rule that I would not see any shows that I had already seen or that I could see in London. I broke it twice over when I saw Hairspray and I broke it for one reason: Harvey Fierstein. He was the best thing about the show when I first saw it and so his return could not be missed. I was supposed to see it with a friend who loves the show as much as I do but he bailed on me at the last minute, so fuck him. As it was, I WAS SO GLAD I saw it alone because I forgot until it started that the show makes me weep. So I boo hooed my way through "I Can Hear The Bells" in Act One and then through "Without Love", "I Know Where I've Been" and "You Can't Stop The Beat" in Act Two. I could see the woman sat next to me giving me curious glances in Act One (I wasn't like sobbing or anything but I had tears pouring down my face) and I wanted to just say "yes ok, I'm crying. Problem?"

Harvey Fierstein is without a doubt the most consistent performer I have ever seen. The performance he gave then was the same caliber that I saw in 2003. Phenomenal. So wonderful. A joy. There's only a few weeks left so please, see this show while you still can.

Pink, ponies, happy, sky

Shrek as a musical is not a good idea. It's a show that I went back and forth about seeing but in the end decided that I would go mainly out of a love for Sutton Foster. The rocky out of town tryout in Seattle saw a new choreographer flown in, who also helped with the direction and prior to its Broadway bow, two actors left the production (one not through choice). So I must admit I wasn't expecting great things.

And I didn't get them. But I did have fun. It's a cute and funny show with a solid performance from Brian D'Arcy James in the title role and absolutely magnificent support from Sutton Foster as Fiona and Chris Sieber as Farquaad. John Tartaglia has oddly high billing for such a tiny little role as Pinocchio though. Daniel Breaker, as the new Donkey was fantastic. The songs aren't memorable though and the staging is so very big, so very busy and actually quite ugly. Whether it will succeed or not remains to be seen as their opening night is still several weeks away.

Hi everybody! My name's Katie. What's yours?

All My Sons is quite possibly one of the finest plays of the twentieth century. I saw what is now considered to be a landmark production at the National Theatre back in 2000, starring Julie Walters, Ben Daniels, Catherine McCormack and James Hazeldine. It was so incredible that I went back to see it again when it was brought back by popular demand, this time with Laurie Metcalfe replacing Walters as Kate Keller.

With the bar set that high, it was always going to be tough to get near it. That this new production falls so enormously short is a real surprise. The problem is the direction. A play as incredible as this does not need to be so frantically and fussily directed. We don't need the cast to be sat visibly on the stage when they're not actually in a scene. We don't need them all to randomly cross over the stage during key monologues. We don't need "important lines" of dialogue to be amplified, thereby underpinning their importance. We certainly don't need John Lithgow to announce to the audience that they're about to perform the play and read the initial stage direction. Nor do we need projections, telling us which Act it is, when it's intermission and also projecting war imagery for no good reason throughout. With that to contend with, the play has to put up a valiant fight to be heard. It emerges, bloody but unbowed, proving the strength of the original material.

Dianne Wiest, one of the main reasons I wanted to see this production, was out. Annoying. John Lithgow was fine, Patrick Wilson was serviceable, Becky Ann Baker was fantastic in a small but key role. Katie Holmes obviously took it to heart that the main criticism levelled at "Hollywood" actors when they come to Broadway is that you can't hear them so she bellows her way through the role. The performance is otherwise fine, kind of like Jennifer Garner in the Cyrano revival last year, she neither embarrasses herself, nor does she blow you away. I just could not get past the unnecessary and intrusive direction. Horrible.

I know bad, I've been bad

Mamet briefly had two plays revived on Broadway in the same season. The terrible American Buffalo opened at the beginning of last week to predictably bad reviews and has already closed. Speed-The-Plow is doing significantly better. It does of course have the curiosity factor of being the show Madonna made her Broadway debut in.

I've seen clips of the pivotal "I've been bad" speech from her and it's pretty horrible. Luckily, the revival has three absolutely stellar performances to carry it along. Jeremy Piven and Raul Esparza are both terrific but the stand out is Elisabeth Moss who was so quiet and unassuming in her performance that you never really knew if she was trying to give herself a leg up in the job world, or tear Piven down. I thought she was fabulous. The play is a mere 70 minutes and so is performed without intermission. 25 minutes into the play, a latecomer appears. She's front row centre. Somehow, she's allowed to take her seat and climbs over people, holding on to the stage for balance. Jeremy Piven singled her out during the Broadway Cares speech for some embarrassment, which was pleasing. I could NOT believe she was allowed to take her seat and didn't stand at the back for the performance.

Every night. Bended knee.

Horton Foote is about a million years old and still going strong. He wrote Dividing The Estate a fair while ago and it's had regional stagings in the past twenty years but has never been in New York. When it was off Broadway, he pulled it from award contention when, due to the age of the play, the Lortel committee wanted to consider it a revival. One wonders, now that it's opened on Broadway and has Tony possibilities, whether history will repeat itself.

Kind of August: Osage County Lite, the play concerns a family who are cash poor but land rich and the infighting that goes on between parents, grandparents and siblings over whether the estate should be divided or not. It was charming and amusing enough (particularly the playwright's 55 year old daughter Hallie, who looks incredible for her age) and Elizabeth Ashley is regal and imposing enough as the owner of said estate. I enjoyed it, but I wasn't swept away and bowled over by it.

Short and sweet

I spent Thursday with my dear friend Lottie and then had the evening to myself before meeting Christina at 11 for the midnight showing of Twilight (it had to be done). So I had some time to kill, I took myself off to TKTS to see what was there, hoping for Pal Joey. Nope. Not there. That is the last Broadway show I wanted to see, so I looked at the off-Broadway listings and selected Saturn Returns, a play at the Mitzi Newhouse, which is a gorgeous little theatre and sounds intriguing enough.

It's one man, seen at thirty year intervals of his life, aged 28, 58 and 88. Three different actors take on the role and are all wonderful, particularly John McMartin as the oldest incarnation. Special mention has to go to Rosie Benton who plays three different women in his life and is absolutely glorious at all of them (at 88, she's his care nurse, at 58, his daughter and 28, his wife). It's a beautiful and moving play and as it unfolds and you learn about this man's tragic life, it's absolutely heartbreaking. It is the best play I've seen on my trip in fact.

Bewitched, bothered and bored to tears

Oh Pal Joey. I got a ticket to see this on Saturday night. Christian Hoff was off for the weekend with a foot injury and so I saw his understudy, Matt Risch. As we all now know, Hoff is gone for good and Risch has the role permanently. So technically I didn't see the understudy, I saw the first performance of the new lead actor. Of course, gossip and rumor are flying that Hoff was not that injured and it's a cover story for getting rid of him as he wasn't working in the role. Whatever.

All I know is, the show itself doesn't work. This time there's been a book overhaul, characters eliminated, songs moved around and still, still it's not an interesting show. The problem may be the fact that you don't like any of the characters. Or that only two of the songs in the whole damn show get any room to breathe (Bewitched, bothered and bewildered and of course, Zip!). There's just something that doesn't quite work.

I can't really judge Risch as he'd had like a day of rehearsal before being thrown on the stage but he coped very well and I'm sure by opening night his performance will be fully there. Stockard Channing was a bit of disappointment. Her comic timing was fine enough but her singing was horrible. She actually spoke all her songs and didn't seem terribly interested in them while she was doing it. The show belongs to Martha Plimpton, who, as Gladys Bumps, now gets the act two showstopper of Zip! and knocks it out of the park. See it, if only for her.

And that, as they say, is that. It's been a wild ride in NYC and I'm really sad to be going back home but all good things have to come to an end I guess.

The play's (not) the thing (part 1)

So I'm heading towards the end of my trip now and I haven't mentioned a single show since Gypsy and I've seen a ton of them! So here, in chronological order, are my takes on them:

American Buffa-huh?

Why did they think casting Cedric The Entertainer in a Mamet play would be a good fit? And Haley Joel Osment has not grown into his looks. His looks have, in fact, stayed exactly where they were and his head has grown which makes him look like he's a little bit simple. They're both outclassed by Jon Leguizamo, the only one of the trio who is a good fit to Mamet and looks like he knows what he's doing on the stage. The play itself has not really aged well and I was left wondering why they'd bothered with this revival. Clearly I am not alone in thinking that as after opening night this past Monday brought them a wealth of mediocre reviews, they will be closing this Sunday. Don't see it, even though you still can.

Snoring

I had such high hopes for A Man For All Seasons. These were cruelly dashed. It's a hugely boring play and while Frank Langella is absolutely wonderful, he's so much better than literally EVERYBODY ELSE IN THE CAST, it's like he's in a different play altogether. I had a couple of beers with dinner which was a mistake because, try as I might, I could not stay awake in Act One. So dull.

Soaring

The Seagull is an odd play, being somewhat self reflexive as it focuses on actors and writers. It does have, at its centre, an absolutely remarkable performance from Kristin Scott Thomas, which everybody should see. The casting of a few American actors has unbalanced the show, unfortunately, but it is still worth seeing, if only for her.

I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love

The revival of South Pacific is, without a doubt, the best show I've seen on my trip. I only booked it because it was THE show to see, I wasn't necessarily interested in the piece itself. My only exposure to the show up to this point was seeing the godawful TV movie version with Glenn Close as a woefully miscast Nellie Forbush. Well, this is an absolutely wonderful production, with some fabulous performances in it. Kelli O'Hara is glorious, luminous and radiant as Nellie Forbush. Paulo Szot, as Emile De Becque, brings the house down whenever he sings, particularly in "This Nearly Was Mine". Matthew Morrison is also wonderful in the smaller role of Joseph Cable. And he takes his shirt off, which is never a bad thing. I was very moved and a little tearful by the curtain call. Loved it so much. Would see it again in a heartbeat only it's sold out and it's damned expensive.

Artificial Respiration

The New Group have chosen to revive Kevin Elyot's seven year old play, Mouth to Mouth and give it a New York airing. Why, I don't know. I saw it in the UK when it had its premiere and I loved it. The cast, with the exception of the wonderful Elisabeth Jasicki, struggle with the British accent. The play is still slight but heartbreaking and worth seeing. It's a shame I'm not here for The New Group's next production, as a revival of Mourning Becomes Electra with Jena Malone and Lili Taylor sounds thrilling.

Christ, I've seen so many I'm gonna have to split this entry in half!

Gossip Girl here....

No, not really. I have the WORST record for spotting celebrities. I spent a 15 day vacation in LA and saw NOBODY! But since arriving on this trip, I haven't been doing too badly. So, in order to tie in the title of this entry:

Spotted, in the west village: Famke Janssen.

Spotted on the L Train: Julianne Moore.

Spotted at the Walter Kerr Theatre box office: John Turturro.

Spotted in the audience of Shrek: The Musical: John Lithgow and Wilson Cruz.

Seeing any one of those would have been unheard of for me. But to see all of them is frankly ridiculous. But fun.

I'm a pretty girl, Momma!

So here we are on day 3 of my NYC trip and it seems Gordon Brown is intent on ensuring my stay in debtor's prison. Thanks to the UK's endless bleating about just how awful the economy is, the exchange rate is at a new six year low of $1.48. This time last year I was getting about $1.97 and I didn't a new iPod then.

Aside from that, I am having a pretty glorious time so far. I headed off my cold at the pass with a major dose of Theraflu on Tuesday, which is good. I had a suspicion that sitting in wet clothes on a plane for hours on end would result in my getting sick and when I woke up with a sore throat on Tuesday morning I just thought "hell no". Usually I ignore being sick and don't do anything about it but not this time. I also hit the shops on Tuesday and got some winter boots and a few things from Old Navy but I wasn't overly inspired by the flagship store on 34th Street. I'll check out the one in Chelsea today and see if that's any better. After the shopping and a spot of lunch, Eric, another friend and I headed for Jacques Torres to get some Wicked hot chocolate which was absolutely glorious. I then left them and met with another friend for dinner at Cafeteria. The food was pretty incredible but man was I ever full by this point! After that it was hauling ass to get to Gypsy on time. Thank God they're one of very few shows who don't do Tuesday at 7.

The show is all about the Lupone. I think Gypsy is hamstrung by the fact you're not allowed to do anything different with it in terms of staging and you have very little wiggle room in direction. But this is directed by Laurents himself and Lupone has been dying to sink her teeth into Mamma Rose for years and the lightning in a bottle that pairing has created is a must see. Of course, Lupone has always been Little Miss Mushmouth and some of the speedier delivered lyrics (parts of "Some People", most of "Mr. Goldstone") is a little garbled. But her performance is in every other way a tour de force. Both "Everything's Coming Up Roses" and "Rose's Turn" are intense to the point of being almost frightening. Laura Benanti is wonderful too though I was less impressed with Boyd Gaines than the Tony voters were.

Also, is it me, or is Patti Lupone as Mamma Rose

actually Miss Bertha from Acorn Antiques?


After Gypsy I met up with a friend who finished work right around the time the show got out. Due to the cold medication, I thought drinking was not wise and lord knows I couldn't have eaten another thing if you'd paid me, so we went for coffee and then ended up in Virgin Megastore where I manfully resisted buying anything (he wasn't quite so restrained).

Hey world*, here I am!

*Well, NYC anyway.

Yes, I have arrived. The much desired 15 day stay in the Big Apple has finally begun. The process to get here was beset by minor annoyances, not least the fact that yesterday morning had world endingly dreadful weather. It was raining fit to beat the band when I left my flat to walk to the station (it was rush hour and raining, a cab was clearly never going to happen) and it had clearly been raining all night as there was a LOT of water around. By the time I got to the station I was soaked from head to toe and had managed to step in a puddle that turned out to be ankle deep. Great. Especially as I was wearing summer shoes as new winter shoes are top of the purchase list in NYC.

So I get to the train station and the Gatwick trains are delayed so the concourse at the station is rammed full of harrassed looking commuters. Brilliant. The delay turned out to be minor (ten minutes) but by the time I got on the train it was standing room only, which was a pain. When I got, to Gatwick, they wanted to see the credit card I'd booked with before they would check me in. Which would be fine if it hadn't been stolen and then the replacement fucked up and not arrived in time. So that took some smooth talking. Then I got frisked at security, then I had my bag searched by security, both of which were travel firsts for me.

I purchased some new socks and another book for the flight (I finished Breaking Dawn, can I get a "thank fuck"?) and then boarded. I'm sat next to a super cute guy which was a blessing but then there's some electrical fault with the plane that delays our take off. Whatever. That gets sorted out and aside from some minor turbulence when we first take off, the flight is then completely event free and I also breeze through immigration and customs to find there is NOBODY waiting for cabs! Awesome. Then the last minor annoyance kicks in and we sit in traffic for what feels like an eternity and I don't get to the diner to meet Eric until almost 4pm, when I was aiming for not much after 3pm.

But it doesn't matter anymore. I'm here and all is right with the world again. This morning sees the beginning of my shopping myself into debtor's prison (Old Navy here I come!) and then tonight it's Gypsy with Ms LuPone. I've already eaten a slice of red velvet cake the size of a kitten (last night for dessert while watching Chuck you understand, not this morning for breakfast) so I feel like I'm home again

Breaking Bad

No, I'm not going to blog about the dark dark dark show concerning a science teacher turned drug dealer after finding out he's dying of lung cancer. You'll notice that only half the title up there is in italics. No, I want to take a moment to talk about this:



It's absolutely jawdroppingly, breathtakingly shit. I've come so far and I'm so determined to finish this stupid saga (and I plan on going to midnight showing of the movie when I'm in NYC with a friend who has a similar relationship to these books as I), but sweet mother of God is this one ever testing my patience. When a human/vampire hybrid baby being born ISN'T the most retarded event in a narrative, then you know you're in trouble. The saga spans some 2560 pages and I refuse to cave now, with only 300 to go. I'll finish it on the plane on Monday as that way I won't have anything else to distract me (I don't do in flight movies).

Naked Farmer for November

He's a little late. But I think he's worth the wait. I clearly lied in March when I said the best was now behind us.