Lost - "The End"

Warning: this is the definition of "SPOILER". If you haven't seen the Lost finale, be smart and click away. Or scroll down and read some other posts. They're good. Also, this post is really, really long, since I spend a good chunk recapping as I work through feelings about various things.

So we come at last to what I've been putting off for days, my thoughts on the Lost series finale. Last Sunday was a night so thematically and emotionally loaded that I've been dreading figuring out how to quantify it, boil it down, and definitively say anything at all. So we'll start here:

I loved it.

Every second of the finale felt like a fully crested wave finally crashing down after six years. On the Island, mythology talk was kept to a shocking but refreshing minimum. We finished up with Jacob last episode, so, once again, we were left with Jack leading the survivors into action and at odds with John Locke (who still wasn't Locke, but oh, we are so getting to that later).

Meanwhile, in supporting cast land, Richard spotted a grey hair, either because his job was done, Jacob was dead, or the Island reboot shenanigans (sidenote: both the Lost and Chuck finales hinged on a pivotal "reboot" - Discuss). I thought the moment where he "just realized [he] want[s] to live" was beautifully handled, and I was happy he made it off the Island. Also, to quote an enthusiastic friend: "Lapidus LIVES!" His emergence from the water was the first of many cheer-out-loud moments of the finale, and they only got better. And thank you, Miles, for the final episode's quotable gem: "I don't believe in much, but I believe in duct tape." I found it fitting and a nice season 1 throwback to see them make-shift patching up the plane. Overall, seemed to be a good week to be a featured player in Lost-Land.

Meanwhile, with the main story, revelations, whether they were the ones you wanted or not, came fast and furious: Desmond was fearless and at peace because he'd caught a glimpse at the Sideways world thinking it was real, and that he'd be heading there (well, he wasn't totally wrong on that one).

Jack and Locke lowering Desmond into a hole in the ground reminded them (and us) of season 2, and Monstro-Locke pointed it out, to which Jack snapped back, "You're not John Locke." Using his desensitized-to-electromagnetism self, Desmond went down to the Source and pulled the plug, literally, on Island mojo. This was enough to make Locke mortal and Jack hurt-able, so the epic beatdown ensued. What amazed me about the fight was how cathartic it was - Jack was newly converted and fighting for the mission of the real John Locke, but at the same time was always at war with the living person, the body, the skin. So it made amazingly perfect dramatic sense for Jack to be beating the shit out of the man who had caused him so much distress during his time on (and off) the Island, and to LITERALLY be beating the shit out of the skin of his fallen comrade.

Oh, and somewhere in there we finally got to see Bernard and Rose (and Vincent!) again, and they got to prove that despite their newfound isolationist philosophy, they'll step up when it counts (especially *sniff* Vincent, which you better believe I'll be getting to later).

So, Kate ultimately saves the day (and her character's end-of-show likeability) by finally stepping in and gunning down Locke at a key moment, but not before he mortally wounds Jack with a Christ-like stab to the side. Jack and Kate share an epic kiss, Jack plus Ben and Hurley stay on the Island (Hurley *sniff* to see his friend through, though he really just didn't want to make an insane cliff-dive), and Kate and Sawyer 'shippers get one last bit of hope in knowing that as they escape the Island together (with Claire, who Kate pursuades to leave in one last nurturing push), they will probably stay close with their respective new families (remember Cassidy and Clementine everyone?). In season one, we see Kate lose her best friend whom she loved. Now Kate has lost a new love, but gained a new best friend and a new purpose in life. Great resolution in my book.

So, speaking of resolution, um, Sideways world freaking blew the dam. Every possible cathartic character moment I could think of (and many that I couldn't) came flowing in, and as old questions were answered and new, deeper ones posed, we were left with probably the most emotionally satisfying television in history. Hurley's slight grin seeing Charlie again, before tranq-ing him ("I was shot by a fat man"). Jin and Sun's flash-moment of seeing their baby with Juliet (!) as their doctor. LOVED their moment recognizing Sideways Sawyer, and how funny they thought it was that he was a cop. Sayid and Shannon, which I want to talk about for a second.

Before and after his relationship with Shannon, Sayid was a wanderer, at unrest, looking for his lost love Nadia, grappling with the man he was, finding Nadia again only to tragically lose her, and taking a downward spiral into a killer's life from which he thought there was no escape for him. Sayid was never at peace, except when he was with Shannon. Then he was able to LET GO, to be a new man and finally be at peace. And likewise, Sayid helped Shannon move on from her old life as well, suddenly full of self-confidence, purpose, and freedom from her troublesome relationship with her brother. So count me as someone very happy that they "woke up" by seeing each other again.

Anyways, back on the happy ending-athon, we see Sawyer and Juliet reunite in one of the most beautiful moments of the night, which also answered the questions we had about Juliet's dying words (turns out, "It worked" was about a vending machine, NOT a hydrogen bomb, which we retroactively learn didn't work). And John Locke, post-surgery, FINALLY returns to his long-gone Island self, and holy heck did I miss that glint in his eye! His moment of realization as he wiggled his toe, and his instant urgings to Jack ("You don't have a son", "I hope that someone does for you what you've done for me") were a major highlight in a blazingly bright episode. Finally, Kate once again helps Claire deliver Aaron as Charlie watches helplessly, leading to epiphanies all around.

As we neared the end of the Sideways story, Kate was in position of a never-before-seen serenity, as she became the mysterious woman who would lead Jack to his final realization. It was really Kate's behavior post-epiphany that really got my brain tingling about the possibilities and incredible boldness of this finale. More and more the story started shifting away from the Island, as Jack took on his final mission and passed his trust and leadership to Hurley, who then gave Ben the resolution he sought by asking for his help in running the Island. I think this finally answers the question of the infamous season 2 "Hurleybird" (the Island always knew it would be him). Finding Desmond alive, Ben and Hurley resolved to get him home to Penny (since Hurley could "change the rules" and make it easy to get him off the Island). A lovely parting mission for them, which I absolutely believe they accomplished. Ben and Hurley also had a nice Sideways moment where they acknowledge what a great job they'd done on the Island.

As we neared the end of both stories, we saw that Jack the fixer was having the hardest time letting go. Multiple mini-flashes couldn't faze Sideways Jack, and Island Jack, waking up where the body of the Island Adam Man in Black once lay dead, started his final walk to where it all began. Sideways Jack finally sees his father's empty coffin, suddenly springing Jack back into memories of everything that had happened on the Island. He turns and sees his father standing alive and well, a body he was never allowed to see at any point in any form since his first days on the Island, and Jack (and we) realized the whole point of the Sideways: letting go and moving on.

This story shift was jaw-droppingly bold, and count me among those who were deeply impacted. The Islanders were given a place without time to reconnect before passing over to the other side, whether their reunions were separated by moments (Shannon dying in Sayid's arms) or years (Kate presumably living very long after the Island). It was beautiful. But I believe the Sideways was also a gift to the people who loved the show, a place where they could see the characters and the emotional connections that they loved one last time before we too had to say goodbye forever. It was mythologically justified (the whispers) and earned through the show's storytelling. As Christian explained to Jack that everything mattered, and everyone reunited in church, taking their seats as if for one last flight, and Ben sought Locke's forgiveness (and received it) before choosing to remain behind for a while (not ready to move on, given what he had in the Sideways world), my mind grew wider and wider open. The new, deeper questions entered, questions that weren't meant to have answers or would be cheapened by them. We all will have different opinions on why Ben stayed behind, why Eloise didn't want Desmond to take her son, why Daniel and Charlotte didn't flash, and why Boone, Rose, and Bernard apparently didn't need to. And so, as Lost ended the way it began, with Jack lying in the woods, looking up at the Ajira flight carrying his friends to safety, his mantra, "Live Together, Die Alone," came true, and he didn't die alone. He had Vincent (I'm tearing up just writing this), and a smile crept on his face. His eye closed, the 815ers in the church were enveloped in white light, and we the viewers were able to let go, too. Or at least I was.

Following the finale I was in a very peaceful, contemplative state from what I had just witnessed. It's very rare that a television show reaches the levels of intellectual, spiritual, and emotional depth that Lost was able to give us in its six years, and I think of it as a gift that it was able to give us so much to think about and feel in its final outing. For that, I am absolutely grateful.

Glee - "Theatricality"

A cautionary tale:


After last week's Joss Whedon-helmed episode which brought us one of the best episodes of the season and a refreshing, slowed-down change of pace in the directorial style, we come back to Regular Gleeland with "Theatricality", a tribute episode to Lady GaGa. Honestly, I can't tell if it was the transition back or the episode itself, but I feel dizzy: the crosscutting felt more frantic and the melodrama more amped up and less motivated (with a couple exceptions, which I'll get to in a bit). Overall, we got a huge helping of Good Glee last week, and this week its evil twin, Bad Glee, got its revenge.

Now, God help me, I do love this show, but this week's episode (along with the super overrated "Power of Madonna") highlights everything the show does wrong - overselling a concept, exposing a formula, and, possibly worst of all, making its own pop-culture savvy sound like product placement. Whereas in the Madonna episode I could forgive the ass-kissing by noticing how blatant and tongue-in-cheek it was handled (Principal Figgins talking about how the kids won't get any work done because of those "delicious hooks" was perfectly delivered), this week seemed to scream, "hey everybody, Lady GaGa is awesome and important; go buy her music!" Which sucks, because I LOVE GaGa and DO think her music is awesome and important, "delicious hooks" and surprisingly nuanced lyrics (see highlights below). Ultimately, "Bad Romance" brought nothing to the plot but implausibly elaborate costumes, and the KISS number had freaking pyro-technics in a high school auditorium! Jeez, I get that it's heightened and supposed to be over-the-top, but now they just seem to be revelling in it at the cost of viewer connection.

Here's the thing though - that KISS number was cool, especially the kids watching their friends act like rockstars. If the actual performance had been underplayed, I feel like we would have had a great moment there. Maybe Glee should hire Susan Stroman to direct an episode where all the numbers are "found object"-inspired.

Now, as for what worked: the Kurt-Finn subplot was a home run. This is what Glee does best: it takes something that could be very after-school-special or preachy and makes it real, even at its highest emotional state (see also: Finn's anger at Quinn and Will's borderline violence against Terri). The scene where Mr. Hummel rips into Finn for using the "f" word was pretty much perfectly executed melodrama, and Finn's regret was instant and very powerful. I can't believe Mike O'Malley, the man who once hosted Nickelodeon's GUTS, is delivering these powerhouse guest spots episode after episode. Meanwhile, the subplot was marred by the cartoon villains that were the two bullying jocks. Seriously Glee, I thought we were better than that.

The other highlight: even though the storyline itself was a little wonky in its "now we're back to the status quo" resolution, the "Poker Face" duet was pretty great, especially since they used GaGa's acoustic version, which I believe is actually the way she originally wrote the song. The two of them connected very nicely and sang a good song and good lyrics with nuance, and it was just a beautiful moment. Once again underscoring it was the issue that, with rare exception, even the clever re-arrangements are ones that already exist (with the Chaplin "Smile" and hopefully "Dancing with Myself" being the exceptions).

My ultimate disppointment with the episode is that it showed how far the show has strayed from the promise of its original premise, geeky high schoolers doing their own thing and it being awesome it its lameness, which is ironic because that's what this episode was ABOUT. Every week, Mr. Shue gets a warning from Principal Figgins, makes an assignment out of that warning, Finn/Rachel makes a major life decision on that subject while Kurt/Mercedes learns a valuable lesson and/or Artie/Tina learns to accept who he/she is. I HATE that I've spotted the formula so early in the run. Glee now has two more seasons to prove me wrong, and who knows, next week will probably be Good Glee again, but they really need to get this fluctuating quality under control.

So, just to recap:

The Good: "Poker Face", Kurt and Finn's storyline, Mike O'Malley. Oh, and the fact that the arc actually had a climax so they didn't need a production number to end the episode.

The Bad: Paper-thin GaGa justification, just-too-ridiculous performances of KISS songs (including the very dumb but well-sung "Beth"), and everything about the "Goth Tina" subplot (Figgins believes vampires are real? Really?). Though it did give us the "Asian Branch Davidian" line, which was awesome. Speaking of lines, when the piano player came out just in time for the song and Rachel said "he's always around", it was too much a rehash of the funny "Oh, so THAT'S why the band is here!" line from "Hell-O", so all I could do was roll my eyes, unfortunately.

Stop jerking me around, Glee. Be consistantly good. See you next week, dammit.

Unwilling Suspension of Disbelief

Inspired by the whole issue surrounding Ramin Setoodeh's controversial article on gay actors playing straight, the numerous rebuttals (both denouncing and denouncing the denouncers for missing the true problem), and a major argument I've been having with a good friend about Artie on Glee, I've been thinking a lot about what we as audience members are willing to accept from actors, and what we absolutely will not accept.

The start of all this was a Facebook post where my friend, a disabled actor herself, was furious that Glee was justifying casting an able-bodied actor as wheelchair-bound Artie by having him dance in a fantasy. The source of her frustration was that by having an able-bodied actor take that role, a wheelchair-bound actor with far fewer opportunities is robbed of a major one. There was some back and forth on this, with me spewing the whole "best actor gets the role" philosophy and line and her telling me that this was akin to casting a white actor in a black role, and the more we argued, the more I wondered: what do and don't we accept from actors?

Nobody bats an eye when an actor plays a cop, a lawyer, a doctor, a scientist, you name it. People generally don't complain when Italians play Jews or when Indian Naveen Andrews plays Iraqi Sayid on Lost (hell, he was fantastic, but dude looks REALLY Indian). Fervant theatregoers, actors and advocates jump to defend the idea that a gay actor can play straight, and vice versa, citing the universality of falling in love, that chemistry is chemistry from actor to actor, and so forth. We all KNOW that white can't play black. So we come to the disability issue.

Now, characters get shot and stabbed on TV all the time, so it's commonly accepted for actors to be believed in selling pain. Women who've never had babies play pregnant on TV. Numerous emotional traumas and issues pervade primetime. Yet, a character suffers a spinal injury and loses the use of their legs and it's a whole new ballgame. My friend says she just does not believe an actor who can use his legs talking about not being able to and actually finds it offensive. Everybody has different beliefs and thresholds, so of course her opinion is highly valid (probably moreso than mine in this particular case), but it makes me wonder, where's the line?

Earlier I mentioned she drew comparison to the white/black casting issue, so if we're regarding the disabled as a race in America, would the situation not be more like the Italian/Jew one, since the visual comparison is closer? Does this also apply to characters with mental disabilities/differences, like characters ranging from Rain Man to Forrest Gump to Abed on Community? Does it make it more/less ok for the character to actually experience the injury in the story, a la Lt. Dan in Forrest Gump or Locke on Lost, and if so/not, does the blame/credit go instead to the writer of that story and THEIR ability to relate to the issue? See how complicated this is?

I would personally have no trouble believing a wheelchair-bound actor playing an able-bodied man who happens to just be sitting, for example (in fact, I have seen this, though I forget where). I've seen a blind actress magnificently play a seeing character. Is this also considered unacceptable by certain standards? These examples may be rendered moot because those folks may have once been able to walk/see. The gay/straight issue is defended as experiential, comparable believable experiences. Then why do we buy acted pregnancy? The isolation, pain, and ultimate self-acceptance of Artie on Glee can be compared to, well, a lot of things in high school (disclosure: Artie is actually the character I relate to most closely on that show), but able-bodied Kevin McHale does not know that specific experience. So is the attempt to understand it or play it pandering in some way? Or do we shift over to the writers, who, even if the character was played by a disabled actor, would be putting insincere words and thoughts in that character's mouth and mind if they too couldn't relate?

Ultimately, there's a racial/experiential divide somewhere in performance, where the relatable segues into the unrelatable, and that line is almost impossible to define and will shift from person-to-person regarding actor-to-actor. In auditions it is largely possible that Kevin McHale tapped into his idea of the character's geekiness, charm, talent, and "fount of pain", whatever it was, more convincingly than the many wheelchair-bound actors that auditioned for the role, but that hard-to-define line will make that remain unacceptable for a community of people of a certain experience. Admittedly, as an able-bodied person, I can't say for certain whether my own experiences with rejection, isolation, strength, non-chalance, etc. translate to something relatable in the eyes of those folks that aren't so lucky.

I don't have anything even close to an answer on this. All I know is that my brain has been spinning the last day or so with thoughts about this, for no reason greater than my own able-bodied male whiteness, preventing me from understanding these points of view and perhaps making me more apt to accept certain things. But I want thoughts on this. Please, leave comments below, chew me out, educate me, simply tell me a story, whatever you want, but I would love to hear any and all other thoughts on this very complicated subject.

Glee - "Dream On"

I don't believe in song spoilers for Glee, and this week proves why.

First of all, I had a tough task watching Glee this week. Well, not tough in the watching part, because three things I love - Glee, Neil Patrick Harris, and Joss Whedon - all combined into one glorious whole. The tough task was trying to separate my unconditional love for Joss from judging his work on Glee. Am I thinking it's the best episode ever just because, or is it actually the best episode ever? Fortunately, the Whedon came through.

"Dream On" felt like it lived in a different Glee universe, one where cameras lingered instead of frenetically intercut. Where the cheese-factor lent itself more to staging than to melodrama. Where I didn't feel like I was in such a damn hurry. Whedon's most noticeable contribution was the slowed down pace and longer shots, which I believe have been sorely missing from a performance based show.

I for one am personally glad the reveal of Idina Menzel's character as Rachel's mother was in this episode, because in a typical ep it would have been really too much to handle. Here, though, it was poignant, simple, and revealed the reason Jesse is in Glee Club quite smoothly. Sure, the plot itself is soap-operatic, but these characters and these actors were fully invested, and the relaxed tempo served them and their mission well.

And then of course there was Neil Patrick Harris, aka The Man Who Can Do No Wrong. Yes, I had fun with his villainous posturing and little hissy fits, but my favorite moment of his was the scene with Will in the bar, their conversation, and "Piano Man", which sounded, oh my God, like two drunk guys singing "Piano Man" in a bar, clinging to their old dreams. It was beautiful. And LOVED the Whedonesque touch of "Drunk Man in Bar Annoyed at People Singing".

So, on the subject of Morrison and Harris, um, how 'bout that "Dream On" duet, huh? HUH? The vocals were some of the best we've heard on the show, and the staging was genius.

Meanwhile, we had Artie and Tina getting the most screen time they've had all seasons with a nice subplot about Artie desperately wanting to be a dancer. I give Glee a lot of credit for having such a ballsy arc to this one, as Artie gets his hopes up higher and higher and leaves it to poor Emma to bring him back down to reality. On the plus side, we the audience got to enjoy Kevin McHale's very good dancing (fun fact: dude was in a boy band before Glee). Ultimately, Artie stepped aside (well, figuratively anyway) to allow Tina to dance with Mike (other Asian!) and to get himself pursuing more realistic, achievable dreams, which led to...

...the point I made earlier about going spoiler-free on song choices for Glee. The instant Artie started singing "Dream a Little Dream", I suddenly choked up. It wasn't flashy or obvious or surprising, it was just a damn good song choice, sung with lots of emotion and, again, staged beautifully (loved the out-of-focus Artie singing as they danced behind him). And Quinn gently putting her hand on Artie's shoulder, just a wonderful moment.

I don't think I'm giving Joss to much credit here. True, it didn't really feel like a Glee episode stylistically, but at the same time it was great television, highly revealing for the characters, and full of images now stamped into my brain. Here's hoping Joss gets a return visit next season, and ditto to NPH.

Oh, and not a great way to end this, but who else LOVED seeing Molly Shannon and John Michael Higgins in Brian's "Showtune Support Group"? Just awesome.

Lost - "What They Died For"

Usually, after a head trip of an hour of Lost, I like to hop online and read a couple recaps / reviews, and weigh in on the comment board (Jeff Jensen, Alan Sepinwall, and James Poniewozik being my favorites).

However, as this is the 2nd-to-last Lost ever, things are getting more and more hostile and irritating on those boards (blog commenters being hostile? What a new phenomenon!), and frankly I'm sick of dealing with it and/or becoming the mediator and champion of good sense/reason that I inevitably always become. So I'm writing my own this week. Suffice to say, there are SPOILERS below if you haven't watched the episode.

So, where to begin? Well, the beginning, in way more ways than one. The Island story kicks off not only with Jack's eyeball (see: Pilot episode), but with surviving castaways staring out to sea, watching the remnants of a catastrophe wash ashore as some familiar music plays (see: Pilot episode). One survivor is injured and another tends to the wound by stitching it up (yep, you got it, that's in the Pilot, too). I've loved watching the series come full circle like this throughout Season 6, and usually, the more literal the better for this sensory guy.

Of course, things are different: this time, Jack, Kate, Hurley, and Sawyer are all that's left (well, Claire's out there somewhere, too), and this time, they've lost good friends in the disaster. Kate thinks of Ji Yeon, Sawyer is dead inside from guilt, Hurley disallusioned, and Jack, God bless him (literally, keep watching), picks up the mantle and starts fixing everything, just like Jack does. Only now, he doesn't do it out of a savior complex (which Sawyer so thankfully pointed out), insecurity, or desperation, but out of his genuine nature to heal. It seems completely fitting and appropriate that Jack would our Candidate after all of this, and so perfect that Lost's final episode essentially boils down to Jack vs. Locke, clash of the titans. Only this time, Jack is the man of faith, fighting for the real, dead John Locke, and Locke is literally the thing that killed him, the island entity that took the man's desperation for meaning and manipulated the poor guy into becoming his own vessel. So, besides the fate of the Island, mankind, puppies, and happiness, Lost's final battle is over the legacy of John Locke. Sherpah of Destiny or Misguided Fool? We'll see on Sunday.

Meanwhile, we have Ben. Poor, poor Ben Linus, perpetual tool of the Man in Black. I have to admit, I've missed Ben these last couple weeks. He's been used throughout the series as a source of dark humor, and this week was no exception. Offering Locke lemonade on the porch after Locke's shockingly unceremonious nailing of Richard (Dead? Unconcious? Waiting to be found by Miles?) Or, my personal favorite: in response to Miles, commenting on where Ben hides C4 in his house: "Don't be ridiculous...it's in the secret room behind my closet." Lost has always been pretty good with the meta-humor, especially using Miles. And now Ben, with the taste of loss fresh in his mouth having visited Alex's grave, was once again susceptible to corruption, and he ... succumbed? Honestly, I have no idea. Lost has spent five years teaching us that Benjamin Linus is the best liar on the planet, capable of manipulating with the truth, and a better con man than Sawyer ever was. So I'm not ready to believe that Ben has turned to the dark side. As for him letting Zoe and Widmore die? Well, Zoe works for Widmore, and Widmore, well, no matter what side he's fighting for, he's dicked over Ben one too many times, and in Ben's mind completely deserved to die. Too bad Ben finished him off a second too late! But alas, Ben finally got a chance to taste some revenge. Meanwhile, in the Sideways world, irony rules for Mr. Linus. After confronting Desmond on his 2nd attempt to run down John Locke, Ben gets a pummelling reminiscent of his one from Des on the pier when he tried to murder Penny, and boom! Island epiphany! Sucks that the nice guy gets a chance at true happiness with his adoptive daughter and her nicely cleaned up, sane mother, moments after remembering how he got them all killed once upon a different timeline.

A few quick thoughts:
-LOVED Jacob's explanation of the Candidates and, ultimately, why Kate's name was crossed off. We'd been assuming all season (or at least I was) that it was something bad that Kate had done that disqualified her, but in reality, it was her attachment and her new motherhood. I awwwwed out loud.
-More importantly, I applaud the major return of the free-will factor to Lost's final beats. I wasn't a big fan of "Across the Sea", but it's certainly having a positive effect on the "real" series, like it was our side of broccoli that we had to eat before getting to the finale's yummy dessert.
-Folks clamoring for answers to stuff like Walt's powers: sorry buds, you're SOL. Looking at the series as a whole, I'm convinced the explanation for Walt is thus - In the more realistic first season of the show, Walt was the first example we got that some people in this world may be "special" or have abilities, an introduction that served the roles that Hurley and Miles would later have. That was the narrative purpose (in retrospect) of Walt's powers, and we will NOT be hearing about the source of those, nor Hurley's or Miles'.
-Speaking of Hurley, gotta love that he'll always be who he is, even in Sideways land. Upon meeting Ana Lucia (DELIGHTFUL in both of her post-death appearances!), he awkwardly reminds himself he's never met her as he give her her big payout. And what did Desmond mean, "She isn't ready yet?" (Theory! Island world go boom and worldwide consciousness shift?)
-Finally, I love watching Zen Master Desmond on his recruiting mission in Sideways world, whether he's handing himself over to the police or making creepy prank calls about finding Jack's dad's body. It's a delight, and starting to really make the Sideways stories almost as entertaining as the main narrative. Almost.

Reasons to Pretty/Little Shop/60 Miles to Silver Lake

Hello, loyal readers!

...

Helloooooo? Are there any of you left? I guess I haven't written in a while (6 months, but who's counting?), but it's been busy and all sorts of other fun excuses. Nonetheless, I'm sure the Google Reader feeds of the truly faithful will all feel a quick pang of excitement today.

I'm inspired to write because I've recently seen three great shows. Granted, they're all about to close or have already closed, which makes this a pretty useless blog-as-review, but I enjoy exploring what makes good theatre work, and if you're still reading, you probably do, too. So, in order:

60 Miles to Silver Lake (Studio Theatre 2ndStage)
Divorced dad Ky (Chris Mancusi) picks Denny (Andrew Sonntag) up from soccer practice to take him home with him to Silver Lake for the weekend. Essentially the play looks at dozens of these instances over the course of several years as Denny grows up from kid to cynical teen, and Ky keeps trying his damndest to preserve a relationship he knows increasingly little about. It's excrutiating, watching these two try to connect and failing at almost every turn (ironically, the few moments they do connect tend to frustrate them since one or the other will be pissed or trying to make a point or something). It's a tricky play because it's written in a non-linear way, time jumping around from age to age to spotlight themes in conversation and the futile struggle of these two moreso than a straightforward narrative (there isn't one, though I guess "what happened?" could be a driving [no pun intended] question of the show, and there's a little twist in the narrative towards the end that explains that). I saw the show twice and was mostly impressed by two things: the easy chemistry between the two actors (full disclosure: Sonntag is a good friend and my current roommate), and the excellent direction by Serge Seiden, bringing strong clarity to a very complicated play.

Reasons to be Pretty (Studio Theatre)
This one is actually still running, and if you get a chance, run! It's an excellent opportunity to see four incredible actors tearing into some Neil LaBute...not everyone's cup of tea, but if you know what you're getting into you'll probably love it. The premise: an off-hand comment is made by Greg (Ryan Artzberger) about girlfriend Steph (Margot White) to his friend Kent (Thom Miller), and a veritable shit-storm is released, as the dividing line between different styles of communication and thought for men and women gets perfectly illustrated. Funny that this and 60 Miles were running at Studio at the same time, as it was practically a "Miscommunication Theatre Festival". "Intense" is a great word to describe the performances in this one - nothing really over the top, but the circumstances really bring out these amped up emotions from the characters. The final scene is a mater class in subtextual acting, not only between Greg and Steph, but also Greg's final moment with Kent's wife, Carly (Teresa Stephenson), with whom he spends the play slowly building an unlikely friendship. This one just got extended to May 30, so if you're free this week, go check it out!

Little Shop of Horrors (Ford's Theatre)
Finally, something light after all those brain-frying Studio plays! We all know the story on this one, so I'll just get on with it and say this is a truly first-rate production of this musical. Coy Middlebrook's direction is tight, fast-paced, and unique (the extra layer of old-school sci-fi camp helps distinguish it from other Little Shops). Highlighting the whole thing was Jenna Coker-Jones, playing the best Audrey I've ever seen. It says a lot that she managed to since both the saddest and funniest "Somewhere that's Green" I'd heard to date. Essentially cast as the voice of pure optimism in the story, she manages to get us laughing at abusive relationships and death. Y'know, light stuff. Speaking of abuse, the abuser is the Dentist, and the Dentist is Evan Casey, and Evan Casey is also 7 other characters in the show, each one so distinct and so funny you could easily watch that one character the entire show. Somehow, he even manages to save his best one for last. Little Shop closes this weekend on the 22nd, and if you can it's a really fun, polished show filled with exceptional DC talent and a couple great out-of-towners, too.