Summerhood

Doesn't this movie look great?

When it becomes the next out-of-nowhere indie hit like Little Miss Sunshine or Juno, remember you saw it here first.

http://www.summerhood.com/Trailer_Site/Trailer_1___.html

Woody as Joker, and College Rec For Anthony David D.

Check this out:



I've had very little time for creative pursuits during this hectic first quarter and three-offspring soccer season. A couple things here and there, though, including work on a recording for my daughter and her best friend of a song they wrote together. This to make up for not letting her go to Kings Island with friends, because her mother and I are united in unreasonable meanness.

Another school has requested a perusal script for the musical I wrote. Fingers crossed.

The band is moving along despite membership shake ups.

I've done no writing of my own.

I did, however, get the chance to revisit a piece I wrote four years ago that I was always a wee bit pleased with.

A former student stopped by my room to ask me to write a college recommendation. College recommendations are par for the course in this job, but rarely am I asked to write one for a student who graduated four years ago. This kid, who I always liked very much, left college to go on a "find myself" expedition that landed him in China teaching English. How cool is that? But now he's ready to go back to school, and needs a college rec to do it.

But how am I supposed to write him a rec? I haven't know him for four years.

Apparently there is a program at Columbia exclusively for students who have been out of school for two years or more. They are looking for non-traditional students (they certainly have found one in this kid). So they know that the academic recs they get might be from relationships that ended years ago.

I was comfortable with the idea when I realized that he didn't want me to write a new rec. he wanted me to send the one I wrote years ago.

College recs are tricky, but don't often call for much creativity other than finding ways to be honest about shortcomings that make students look good. But this kid, an unusual student whose strengths might not be apparent on his transcript, was applying to Kenyon, which I felt was a good match, and a school for which I could take some risks in my writing. So I took a big risk and wrote an unconventional letter that I think really captured the kid.

This letter was passed around in the Kenyon admissions office, ended up being published in a journal for college admissions counselors, and was remembered and cited by the president of the college when she spoke here some years ago. Toot-toot goes my own horn, small though it may be.

In the four years since I wrote the lettr I've grown uncomfortable with how much of a presence I am in the letter. Still, it did the job then, and I hope it does the job for him again, and I include it here because I like it, and he was, and I hope still is, such a creative kid.

I got his permission, and I changed his name.

TEACHER RECOMMENDATION FOR ANTHONY DAVID D.
WRITTEN BY DEAD LENNIE
TEACHER OF ENGLISH AND THEATER

This is a college recommendation I wrote for Anthony David D. when he was my student in 2004. He has asked me to send this letter as a snapshot of who he was in high school. It was a pleasure to see him again, and it is a pleasure to share this letter.

For what it is worth, Anthony David’s recent emails to me suggest that the former struggles with grammar noted below are now a thing of the past. And his recent life suggests that those things about him I most admired have only grown more inspiring.


When Anthony David asked me to write this letter, I was thrilled. I am a huge fan of this kid, and I was pleased to have the opportunity to introduce him to your school.

Now I’m starting my fourth attempt at this letter. Turns out, Anthony David is not an easy kid to capture on paper, especially in something as formal as the Recommendation Letter, capital “R” capital “L.” Anthony David is generally an informal kid. He’s also a kid that perceptive teachers gush about – usually at lunch, informally. My formal attempts at capturing him have fallen short. But if you and I were out to lunch – someplace casual – Max and Erma’s, maybe - these are some of the things I’d say about Anthony David D. between sips of tortilla soup and nibbles of my BLT:

“You should have seen him in the fall play. I mean, what was I thinking when I cast this show? This play, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) – do you know this show? This show depends on speed. It’s hilarious, and Anthony David is hilarious. But the whole last, I dunno, half hour depends on speed. They race through Hamlet three times, each time faster than the last – and the last time BACKWARDS. So what do I do? I cast an ADD kid with processing issues – issues with speed, in other words – in the lead role. I mean, what was I thinking?

“But I took the leap, and Anthony David flew. You should have seen him. He was brilliant. Brilliant. The audience will never know how hard he worked to do what he did on that stage. They only know that it was an unforgettable, hilarious, sidesplitting performance by one of the funniest kids that stage has ever seen. You should have seen it. It was amazing. And the part where he improvises, alone on stage, talking directly to the audience? Some folks were laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. I was one of them, and I had seen it a million times.

“Really. You should have been there.”

Pause. Slurp some soup. Sprinkle some salt.

“He’s always been like that, though. He’s always been surprising. Once, his, ummm, his sophomore year, I think. He took my theater class. He’s a fan of Shakespeare, so he was going to do Romeo’s speech in the tomb, when Romeo thinks that Juliet is dead. Well, we knew the theater was unavailable, so I figured we’d just do the scene in my classroom. But Anthony David realized that the cubbies in the hallway look sort of tomb-like. So he opts to do his scene in the hallway.

“Okay. So he disappears for a while, and then when we all go out there, he’s dressed up, and he has these teddy bears – like a dozen teddy bears – all over the hallway, on the floor, in the cubbies. There are all these teddy bears. The Capulet tomb, see? ‘Oh no,” I’m thinking. ‘He’s going to play this for laughs. He’s going to go for a cheap joke. He’s going to butcher Shakespeare and he’s going to sink his grade.’

“But he didn’t.” Quick bite of my BLT. Wipe my chin. “Traffic is stopping in the hall at this point, and Anthony David launches into the speech. ‘Let me peruse this face,’ he says, kneeling over a light brown bear. ‘Mercutio’s kinsman, noble County Paris!’ and so on, until he goes to another bear, this one Juliet. People are gathering throughout the speech, each approaching with a giggle but then falling silent. Then, at last: ‘Thus with a kiss . . . I . . . die.’

Silence. No laughs. Then, applause. Cheers. He nailed it. Kneeling in a school hallway with a teddy bear in his arms, he gave everyone a mid-afternoon glimpse of the power of Shakespeare. It was brilliant. He made it look easy. This kid. I tell you.

“Pass the salt.”

You do.

“Thanks. You know, he was a pretty tough student. I had him freshman year, and it was rocky. He has some learning differences – grammar will always be tough for him, for instance, but the bigger problem was just his organization. He never got things in on time. But I have him now, again, as a senior, and he’s amazing. Very organized, and things get done. But there’s a bigger issue. Somewhere along the line he gained confidence, and now? He’s got this drive, this hunger. He can’t get enough information. I think he’s read more about Hamlet than I have.

“He gave a presentation in class about sources for Oedipus and Antigone explaining this controversial theory he found. His presentation ends up lasting two days. It was amazing. He is passionate about learning. He was inspired.

“One night, we were driving back to school from a play I took some kids to see, and I started asking Anthony David all these questions about his home life. I’ve known this kid for years through plays and classes, but I didn’t know too much about his life. So I ask. I knew his parents were separated, and I suspected they were pretty uninvolved with his school life. I didn’t realize how uninvolved they really were. They’re good people, but Anthony David was pretty much on his own – for meals, even, most of the time, as far back as middle school. So I asked him straight out, there, in the van. I asked, 'So, this growth you’ve had. I mean, you had some struggles, with organization, with getting the job done. Now you’re this great student. You’ve had a transformation. You did that on your own? All on your own?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Pretty much.’”

Now, at Max and Erma’s, I shove my food aside. I wipe my mouth, and I lean toward you. I’m looking right in your eyes.

“This kid. This Anthony David D. He’s smart – moments of brilliance even. He’s passionate. He’s a hard worker. Grammar? Not his thing. He’ll always have to work at the technical side of writing. But his ideas have substance and depth and subtlety. His leadership injects the entire school with fun, but keeps us talking about what’s important. His spirit – he’s got more school spirit than anyone here. This kid – he’s why teachers get out of bed in the morning. He’s inspiring to inspire. He’s done amazing things. He’s going to do amazing things. He should do them at your school.”

So that’s what I would say if we were out to lunch.

You’ll get the check, right?

Remembering Brian Casey

This is a post I wrote for the memorial blog Remembering Brian Casey:

Years ago Brian and I collaborated on a project to stage a swing musical version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Shakespeare provided the book, and I had the concept and the resources – I direct theater at a high school – but I lacked the knowledge of the music of the period. I also needed a big band. And an arranger.

I called the right guy.

For about a year Brian and I met at Stauf’s countless times to put the show together. We laughed a lot. Brian had a sharp understanding of the play, and seemed to know a period song to suit every mood and thought in the show.

Brian and I worked for almost a year on our show A Midsummer Night’s Swing, or It Don’t Mean a Thing If It Ain’t Got That Dream, but, as always, the final weeks of rehearsals were rushed, and many of the arrangements that were performed were never finished on paper, including his original piece for the show, “Titania’s Lullaby.” It was beautiful, and I hate to think it’s gone.

The show was a big success, and working on it forged a friendship between Brian and me that stayed strong despite rarely seeing each other. I was surprised and thrilled, years later, when Brian dropped out of nowhere and onto my front porch for a birthday I had years later; we had no friends in common, really, and it had been ages since we’d talked. Brian knew that he wouldn’t know anyone there, but he came, alone, and was funny and sincere and fantastic. He had a great time. Seeing him was the highlight of the night for me.

I got a call from Brian a couple of months ago. Whenever we talked we talked a lot; it seemed that despite years between conversations, we had never really lost touch. Brian had an idea for a play and was looking for a playwright to help edit, or maybe to collaborate – I wasn’t sure which. I was excited about the chance to work with him again. His idea was to splice Waiting for Godot and Peanuts. Of course.

Honestly, I didn’t get it at first, but he was so excited I jumped in with him. After re-reading Godot and reading lots of Charles Schultz, it made sense. Alas, I lacked follow-through. I thought there would be time later. Nothing came of it, as far as I know.

(I’d be interested if Brian discussed this idea with any readers of this blog, and whether he ever pursued it. I’d love to know more about what he had in mind or had come up with.)

Last week I was considering what show to choose when or if I return to directing theater. I decided the show to do would be our version of Midsummer. I thought about how I needed to give Brian a call.

Pace, And The Book Of Air and Shadows Reconsidered

A complete lack of balance has thrown me off kilter, and I’ve been zombie-esque walking the halls. I’ve over-reacted to meaningless but seemingly distressing news from far away, and haven’t paused enough to appreciate truly sad news here at home. I enjoyed but didn’t fully engage in a nice family wedding. I haven’t exercised in a week, and, in a rush at a gig, ate not one but two walking tacos, Fritos snack bags topped with taco meat and cheese. I’ve been running around, racing rats, and lost a bit of myself in the process. No signs of the pace letting up, but the coping skills are kicking in.

Roderick gave me an assignment that is now way past due, a song about my time in Oregon to be written and posted here. I think about it every day, but I’m not exaggerating about the pace of everyday life lately, so I need to extend the due date more than a bit. But it will happen.

Tying up a loose end:

Someone hit this site Googling for discussion questions for the novel The Book of Air and Shadows. When I saw that, I was reminded of the less than flattering write up I did here about the book. Well, I finished the book, quite some time ago, and I have to say that it really redeemed itself in my eyes. Turns out, much of what I complained about was, I think, deliberate; one major theme of the book is how we allow the familiar patterns in popular fiction to effect our expectations of the world. So he used those patterns to made that point. It’s actually a topic I’m fascinated by. Once class I teach is basically on that point. So I’m embarrassed that I wrote critically of the book, when really I was just falling for the very point the author was making. Cool.

That’s an interesting topic for me: to what degree is author intent relevant? I tell my students that it really doesn’t matter what the author means to do. What matters is what he or she does. But I don’t quite buy into that. Here’s a weird “for instance.”

A while ago, the now-defunct band The Darkness was getting a lot of press as being very influenced by Queen. I like Queen, so I listened to The Darkness’ only album at the time. I thought it was ridiculous and over-blown and awful, full of bombast, like Queen, but without the sense of irony or fun.

Then, later, I saw their second album, and I realized that they were in on the joke – that the bombast and absurdity was the whole point. This became clear to me when I saw the title of their second album: “One Way Ticket To Hell. . . and Back.” Now, I love ‘em.

See? Author’s intent.

Here are some passages from The Book of Air and Shadows that I want to hang on to:

Someone once said. . . that stupidity was a character defense and had little to do with intelligence, one reason the so-called best and brightest got us into Vietnam and why people who are smart enough to accumulate huge piles of wealth persist in doing things that get them major jail time. Mit der Dummheit kampfen Gotter selbst vergebens, as, reportedly, my maternal grandmother used to say, quoting Schiller: against stupidity the gods themselves struggle in vain.

Paul’s theory is that our civilization is collapsing into a dark age and that the advancing edges of this are visible in urban ghettos. He says dark ages are all about forgetting civilization and its arts and also the increasing reluctance of the ruling classes to pay for civic life. This sealed the fate of Rom, he claims. He doesn’t think that the ghetto needs uplift, however, but rather that when the crash comes, the poor will survive better than their masters. They need less, he says, and the are more charitable, and the don’t have to unlearn as much. This s was shy Jesus preferred them. Yes, quite crazy; but when I observe the perfect helplessness of my fellow citizens of the middle class and higher, our utter dependence on electricity, cheap gas, and the physical service of unseen millions, our reluctance to pay our fair share, our absurd gated enclaves, our “good buildings,” and our incompetence at any task other than the manipulation of symbols, I often think he has a point.

In fact, I recovered from my hysteria fairly rapidly, one of the advantages of being as shallow as a dish.

Well, you know, there is really nothing like Shakespeare, even performed by children. . . .[R]emarkably, when the golden lines begin to flow from their lips the are able for a moment to leave the shut hell of teenaged narcissism and inhabit a broader, richer universe.

I did not see or seek out Amalie, although I was aware of her presence in the house, like a rumor of war.

And here is where a character really sums up the point:

“Mishkin seemed remarkable interested, fascinated in fact, with. . . whether movies really determined our sense of how to behave, and more than that, our sense of what was real.
“Surly not,” Mishkin objected. “Surely it’s the other way around – filmmakers take popular ideas and embody them in films.”
“No, the movies come first. For example, no one ever had a fast-draw face-to-face shoot-out on the dusty Main Street in a western town. It never happened, ever. A screenwriter invented it for dramatic effect. It’s the classic American trope, redemption through violence, and it comes through the movies. There were very few handguns in the real old west. They were expensive and heavy and no one but an idiot would wear then in a side holster. On a horse? When you wanted to kill someone in the Old West, you waited for your chance and shot him in the back, usually with a shotgun. Now we have a zillion handguns because the movies taught us that a handgun is something a real man has to have, and people really kill each other like fictional western gunslingers. And it’s not just thugs. Movies shape everyone’s reality, to the extent that it’s shaped by human action – foreign policy, business, sexual relationships, family dynamics, the whole nine yards. It used to be the Bible but now it’s movies. Why is there stalking? Because we know that the guy should persist and make a fool of himself until the girl admits that she loves him. We’ve all seen it. Why is there date rape? Because the asshole is waiting for the moment when resistance turns to passion. He's seen Nicole and Reese do it fifty times. We make these little decisions, day by day, and we end up with a world. This one, like it or not.”

On Gigs and Green Monsters

There is much to write about concerning our recent trip to Oregon, and most of it should have already been written on the family blog, but for limited time and kids hogging the laptop. But two things invite rumination here, and there are quite unrelated.

The one that had the most impact was a gig, a playing out, a me- and- Roderick- and- friend- of- Roderick- sitting- on- a- public- sidewalk- with- guitars- and- digital- piano- making- music- for- several- hours- under- shifting- sky- for- a- growing- and- appreciative- audience. That was a great experience that forced me to dust off some muscles I haven’t used in quite a while. When folks would stroll by, stop for a bit, and end up looking for a table and ordering drinks or a meal, it was gratifying. Granted, it was a lot harder to find the chords by ear than it was several nights earlier, in the more casual setting of Roderick’s kitchen. Still, playing with Roderick and Chris was a joy, even the goofs, and playing some solo stuff became more and more fun as the evening (and a bit of liquid courage) developed. It was fun, a small gig that meant a lot because I would be unlikely to do something like that on my own. Maybe now I’m a bit more likely to do so.

The second thing to think about was motivated by a small book I bought at my new favorite bookstore.

In Portland, we stopped by Powell’s Books in Portland and spent two hours there. It was fantastic, and there is something nice to be said about a friendship between families when most of the nine folks involved consider hours at a massive bookseller to be a wonderful use of vacation time.

Flashback: Just one day before leaving for this trip, I had a twilight idea. That’s my wife’s term: the twilight area between sleep and awake, when you’re still in a bit of a dream-state, and you find yourself caught in a story or situation you find compelling, but you’re awake enough to direct the action a bit.

I was in that state, with a story about a character I never thought I cared about in a medium that I never really considered writing in.

It’s a character that is owned by someone else, a character very well established and who is making a lot of folks rich, so there’s little chance that his story would be entrusted to me.

It is also a character that I know only a little about, comparatively.

All of this is a dilemma, yes?

Also, I’m getting a backlog of ideas, with little work to show for it. This is creative quicksand, and I’d best grab a branch soon.

So at the great big bookstore, I looked a bit at the history of this character, with more research waiting for me on the reserve shelf at the library when I return home. The thought is that I might write a story for this character, but I need to know more about his mythology. One thing I found is that someone else already plumbed some of the ideas I was going to use with this character. Another good reason to abandon ship, but I’m intrigued by my idea and am not ready to bail just yet.

I found a book by Alan Moore, the author of Watchmen, called Writing for Comics. And now, days later, on the plane on the way home, I just read it. I found the Afterward, written fifteen years later than the original essays, to be encouraging and inspiring, reminding me, in different language, of a phrase I often say to my students and my kids, too often forgetting to listen to it myself:

Leap and the net will appear.

Maybe I’ll write the story as an exercise. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm for writing stems from the assumption that having had success with a musical, I have to write another musical.

Maybe I should write a script for a comic book.

Maybe I’ll figure out a way to get the enormous publisher who owns the character to solicit a highly non-traditional story idea about one of it’s benchmark characters from an inexperienced, unheard-of writer who has paid no dues.

Uh huh. Right.

Maybe I’ll abandon snobbish judgment and write it as a piece of fan fiction, a huge cultish world I’ve heard of but never visited and know nothing about, including not knowing if fan fiction of this type even exists.

In the Afterward, Moore quotes Shaky Kane, whom I’ve never heard of, with a line I’m considering posting in my classroom:

“Don’t be cool. Like everything.”

We’ve started our descent, so the laptop must go away.

Tater Tots: First Review

I just received a review of Lunch Lady: Tater Tots of Love from the director of the production at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe:

"Pass the sick bag - its another High School Musical", was my first thought, when kids with air-brushed good looks burst into song in the school lunch hall; but rather than saccharine dross, this new musical has a sinister side. Socially awkward, yet hardly lacking in the looks department, Anthony David falls for perfect and popular Clarissa and receives unlikely assistance from the dinner staff, so far soooo utterly predictable. Only, get this, Clarissa's perfection came at a price: she made a Faustian pact with the school's demonic Dean. The songs were mostly good, although a few of the chorus numbers could have done with a little more volume and diction. A school musical that for a refreshing change doesn't sell its soul for vomit-inducing cheesiness.

Also, Too

Yeah, so it wasn't Bobby McFerrin in the airport, but some other dread-locked, linen shirt wearing, cool-looking black guy. Just a little bit of research revealed that Bobby is in France.

Still, not seeing him yesterday did get me thinking about him. Tomorrow perhaps I will walk the beach and return to his music. It's been a long time.

Bobby McFerrin has had a big impact on me. His album Medicine Music is profoundly beautiful. It's influence on me is made partially clear by a song I wrote sixteen years ago. Wow. Sixteen years ago. That's like it was written by a whole different person.

I was in an a cappella group at the time.

The credit that appears on the media player will be for Everlasting Happiness, because that's the name I chose when creating the site on GarageBand.com. But the performance is actually by Throat Culture, circa 1992. This recording is from the album A Cappella Head.

Also, Too