This is a post I write with hesitation and shame, as I abhor Amazon and Jeff Bezos for profiting during this pandemic at a pathologically disgusting level, earning billions when his employees are not adequately cared for, when he has put so many people out of business, including independent bookstores, and as the richest man in the world, has an unconscionable amount of wealth when billions of people in the world do not have enough to eat. Unfortunately, a vital item I needed urgently could only be purchased through Amazon; hence, I received a trial of Amazon prime, as I did earlier when I was a student. I also have ethical qualms about paid, streaming TV disproportionately getting nominated for awards, as it means that only those with the means to afford it can watch these acclaimed programs or films.
Thus with these disclaimers, I must confess that I am a huge fan of the program “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” which is both revolutionary and retro at the same time. It is nothing short of brilliant, even with its flaws and oddities. It is one of the best modern examples of pure entertainment that I can think of in recent years that engages the viewer with gorgeous visuals, first-rate acting, good humor, and a gripping story. It is the very definition of pure entertainment, something so pleasurable to watch with humor, song and dance, family drama, romance, and ambition.
The production design and art direction are simply stunning. The colors pop vividly on the screen (would that I had a big-screen TV!), the clothes are enviably elegant, every detail is flawless and seemingly appropriate to the time period. As the viewers, we get the sense of what it was like to live in the late 50s and early 60s, when American life was prosperous and booming, yet ready to tear open at the seams socially. There is an irreplaceable sense of style that we have lost in our crass, modern, Kardashian world. I have always been a huge fan of movies from the late 50s and early 60s, largely because of the visual appeal and style of clothing.
Needless to say, the acting is first-rate. The all-star cast is virtually flawless, there is no character who is a weak link. There are of course some standouts. Title actress Rachel Brosnahan’s impeccable timing, snappy dialogue, moxie, pep, youthful beauty, and good cheer coexist with her delicate stature and vulnerability, her willingness to push boundaries, rendering a multi-faceted character we cannot take our eyes off. Tony Shalhoub as her father Abe is a complicated man, whining, irritated, emotionally difficult, yet curious and slightly boyish at times. Jane Lynch as Sophie Lennon is unbelievable: her crass, Phyllis Diller-esque stage persona contrasts with her absolutely chilling, manipulative, patrician status in real life, and it is remarkable how one woman can play such opposite characters so convincingly. And finally, there is Susie Myerson (who alone is worth the price of admission). Sarcastic, grumpy, hilarious, like a butcher version of Rosie O’Donnell, yet incredibly loyal, this character is arguably one of the best TV characters ever, and certainly like no other. I have long been a fan of Alex Borstein since her MADtv days, and she brings an elusive quality to the character. What are her motivations for supporting Midge Maisel so fully? Why does she dress as she does, and what is her sexual orientation? Why is she so militantly unsentimental? Emotionally complex, disturbed, outspoken, driven, we never know how Susie is going to react to something–there are plenty of things that surprise us about her, such as her love of bubble baths or children. She says the things that we dare not say in public, and her character is so fun precisely because she is so badly behaved. Alex Borstein has addressed her characterization of Susie in interviews, for those who wish to read more.
The story is absolutely fascinating: an affluent New York housewife with beautiful children and a handsome husband has a talent for stand-up comedy, and decides to pursue it, against all social mores of the day and against her proper Jewish family’s wishes. On the one hand, this is a classic pre-feminist story, about a woman’s drive to make a career for herself at a time before it is acceptable. On the other hand, it is what writer Christopher Castellani might call an alternative reality history (as per his lecture on this topic at my MFA program). Midge Maisel did not really exist, she did not interact with Lenny Bruce or other luminaries of the period. Amy Sherman-Palladino is a brilliant mind and writer (along with her husband Daniel Palladino, who also directs, and the other excellent writers) who has created a most engaging story, for we want to see how a young woman might have done in such a difficult, male-dominated profession. It is a show about comedy with a lot of comedy, and the dialogue harkens back to the age of great Hollywood screwball comedies, with zingers a mile a minute. It is refreshing to see a female protagonist in the arts who is trying to make it while holding her personal life together.
Of course no TV show is perfect, though this one comes close. Where it flounders sometimes is in the storyline. At times, it can feel a little bit as though the writers are making the story up as they go along. For example, it was certainly an unlikely move that Midge’s mother would suddenly up and move to Paris. Midge’s father has, oddly, taken up with Communist beatniks. There are also a few things that are little bit too familiar or clichéd. Joel Maisel’s parents are almost a little too stereotypically Jewish, especially his mother, who is the classic overbearing Jewish mother, complete with raspy voice. The scenes in the Catskills recall “Dirty Dancing.” Sometimes there are detours and plot threads that are unnecessary and feel like they are there to fill the time. And finally, given that everything is so perfect and era-appropriate from the makeup to the music to the furniture, the ending songs that always play over the credits are incredibly jarring since they are modern. Would that they changed this annoyance.
Nonetheless, “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” is nothing short of enjoyable for all (preteen and above) ages. It is truly a brilliant concept that is well-executed and feminist in a way that doesn’t hit you over the head with being feminist. Most importantly, it is a bright spot in a time of such turmoil in America and the world. The origins of the word entertain are in the root of “to hold”–I am completely held and mesmerized by this wonderful series, marred only by the fact that it is produced by the evil empire of Amazon.
Month: August 2020
Gathering
One of the hardest aspects of the continuing sheltering/social distancing rules for millions of us is the inability to gather. As restrictions are loosened, it is still not truly safe to meet in large groups as before. Even with small groups with masks and social distancing, it is a risk. Anthropologically, we humans need institutions and groups to “finish us,” as we are not born with many instincts and have to learn many skills, unlike most animals. Children who are not socialized with others become feral, and later cannot function in normal human society. There is such a thing as antisocial personality disorder, which is just what its name suggests: people who are not able to interact with others in healthy ways to a pathological degree and who cannot respect how others feel. Not having this human ritual of gathering now, not having a regular, non-risky part of our lives, leads us to reflect on how we congregate as human beings.
We meet for joy. We meet to celebrate special occasions: births, graduations, weddings, showers, birthdays, anniversaries, milestones such as retirement, etc. There is something about the energy of multiple people together, that one plus one is greater than two, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. It might just be five people around the table for a birthday, but throw in funny stories swapped, advice for difficult situations, jokes, et cetera, and it becomes something more. We also meet for funerals, in order to pay respects to the dead and to commemorate their lives; sometimes, it becomes a reunion to see people we may not have seen for decades.
We eat together. One of my favorite things in the world to do is to go out to dinner with a sizable group of people, or to hold dinner parties. Passing dishes around the table–“Oh, I would love some more of that rice!” “Ooh thanks, but I’m not fond of X!” or “May I taste a little of your dessert?–and sharing food is something that feels so vital to the human experience. We all have a common need to eat, which is necessary to survive. Takeout is just not the same as sitting in a restaurant, a place that has its own unique ambience, the smells of the food, the service (or lack thereof if it is a casual eatery) the sounds, people watching, and so many other things that can’t be described. Though many restaurants are open for patio dining, the risks are too great right now, and most people do not wear a mask when they are not eating and are talking.
We need to move together. Be it individually and physically with a spouse or significant other in an intimate/sexual manner, or in an exercise class, tossing a ball with kids, dancing to a live band outside, or clapping our hands in a concert hall, there is something deeply nonverbal and communicative about motion.
Making music together. For those of us who are musicians, this is one of the most tragic things right now, even though the Internet has managed to force us to be creative and concoct new ways of performing and getting together on the basis of sound. Playing in an orchestra is one of the most spectacular thrills in the human experience, to be surrounded by so many instruments that each do their own thing, and yet come together under the coordination of the conductor’s baton. Playing or singing in any sort of musical ensemble is also something in which the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
Public venues. Who doesn’t love perusing books in a library or bookstore? We see a cookbook cover that features some sort of dish we might like to try making, or a title that piques our curiosity and so we lift the book off the table and skim a few pages to see if we might like reading the whole thing. Looking at clothes in a store, seeing the plethora of fabrics, colors, and shapes, sparks our imagination and gives us joy in trying out a new shirt or dress, and getting feedback either from a friend or a willing follow customer. Any kind of house of worship, be it a Zen meditation center, Hindu temple, or Catholic church, unites us in our need for sacred spaces. Having a place that is set aside for quiet contemplation or religious rituals is significant; for those who are atheist, they may find that a particular place, such as in nature or a particular neighborhood, gives them deep solace.
Social groups of interest. We might like to gather together to speak French at a café, play a pickup game of basketball, or meet to plan a charity project. We bond through these common activities which are often things that others in our family or circle of friends might not enjoy doing. Often, we stick with our friends, but sometimes in groups, there is a friend of a friend who we might enjoy meeting or chatting with.
These are but some of the pleasures being denied to us now, or of risk to us now, due to the unfortunate circumstances of the pandemic. Our socializing is severely limited. This is tragically sad, because as humans, no matter how introverted we are, we are social animals. We are trying all means of creative technology to unite us, but nothing takes the place of in-person interaction. So much has been said about herd immunity; what we need so badly now is herd community.
Composers: The Most Democratic of Musicians
Film composer legend Ennio Morricone died recently. It is indeed a sad loss of a man who was so prolific and sensitive to the emotions in a staggering variety of films, from Spaghetti Westerns to dramas and everything in between. This highlights an important issue, for many people say they dislike classical music (meaning: anything played by an orchestra) but I could bet my bank account that everyone would have their favorite music from a movie. I think that film is “where it’s at” in terms of accessible modern classical music, for a lot of what gets put out by composers, especially in academia, is not accessible at all. Of all the different types of musicians that exist, I have always felt that composers are the most democratic of the classical musicians.
I see two reasons for why people dislike classical music or dislike 20th/21st century classical music. Just as with a lot of modern art which is heavily conceptual, many modern compositions require the listener to read and read in order to understand the piece when really it should be something pleasurable and visceral, right-brained and not left. I believe the other part of the problem with people disliking classical music is due to atonality, for I feel tonality is something so innate–we like a tune we can sing, we like a “sound narrative” that carries through the piece, harmonies we can follow, anything that doesn’t sound like putting a cat on a piano. While it’s fine and fun once in a while, an interesting experiment, a heavy emphasis on atonality ultimately alienates listeners. I realize that statement is very controversial.
However, I should caution readers that just as in literature, non-typical tonality can be quite interesting and enjoyable, and what we define as tonality does not have to be limited to something hummable or as predictable as a Mozartian or Verdian melody. Richard Strauss pushes the limits of tonality with seemingly unresolvable harmonies, and the result is nothing short of stunning. Philip Glass’s use of repetitive units (his so-called “minimalist” style, a label which he would chafe at) build and morph into phrases that carry the listener on ethereal auditory journeys; anyone who says they don’t like his music should reconsider after listening to his cello concerto. Bela Bartok’s works often include influences of Hungarian Romani music and the musics of folk cultures in Central and Eastern Europe. African-American composers (who don’t get enough exposure, sadly) such as Florence Price, incorporated the music of her heritage and church, and there is no piano-playing kid who did not play the toe-tapping ragtime of Scott Joplin. Chinese-born MacArthur genius Bright Sheng’s influences could take up a whole post, and he is a wonderful example of someone who has created bridges not only between Asia and the West, but multiple cultures.
In my experience, composers are incredibly humble, open to every genre of music and able to process so many things in their heads. A musicologist might look condescendingly at hip-hop, a flamenco singer might find Indonesian gamelan music “repetitive,” and a Carnatic musician might not be able to stomach the glorious cacophony of Led Zeppelin. An opera singer might try to mimic the quarter tones of an Arabic muezzin and fail. But a composer would be willing to listen to all cultures and genres of music openly, even when the melodic and harmonic systems are radically different. A composer’s ear must be open, ready to listen without judgment. Her or his brain must process sounds as best as s/he can, given the limitations of the tradition that s/he is raised in, the patterns of sound, the instrumentation.
The best Western classical composers are the ones that harness the power of tone color or timbre, who are masters at knowing which instruments produce which sounds for the best effects. Frenchman Maurice Ravel is a composer all composition students study for his genius in this area: one need only listen to a few minutes of “La Valse” to be convinced of this. Gustav Mahler, with his extra-large orchestras, also knew how to command the orchestra, how to use the instruments and be a model for orchestration. There are composers who we can also admire for specifics within the orchestra, such as Dvorak and his lyrical use of strings and Sibelius and his powerful brass. In modern times, a fabulous example is John Adams’s “The Chairman Dances,” which is not conventional in terms of its harmonic or melodic structure and more (sorry for the incorrect label again) minimalist. But Adams’s piece spins out and takes it much further, and takes us on an auditory journey of colors that do not fail to give listeners goosebumps–it is one of my top three desert island pieces. Therefore, it is imperative that a composer be open to all kinds of sounds and to increase her or his palette in order to create rich orchestration.
Most composers (and many classical musicians) enjoy listening to many genres of music. Some of them may not even listen to much in the genre in which they compose–John Adams, in an interview, has said he doesn’t listen to much opera. Whether or not s/he realizes it, a composer is subconsciously observing influences all the time. What is unique, however, is that this “orchestral sound mixer” will translate what s/he has heard into something uniquely her/his own. Of course this raises the issue of cultural appropriation, something for which I think there is no easy answer. In this day and age, there is much less the issue of bad borrowing and stereotyping the way there was in the 19th and earlier 20th centuries (think the horrid Orientalism of Turandot), and we truly live in a global, multicultural era where people can click a button and listen to something from the other side of the world. I argue that it is a composer’s right to borrow different sounds, because sound itself is the most democratic medium that exists. We cannot see it, touch it, but we can hear it and feel it. It belongs to nobody and it belongs to everybody. Composers are merely the channel or vehicle through which sound comes, gets put on paper, and played in an orchestra or ensemble. In a pandemic world where gross human equality is being highlighted at staggering levels, let’s rejoice in something that is ultimately truly egalitarian.
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