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Tag: arts
Avenue Q, in London! How Did We Miss It Before?
It’s more than a little crazy to come all the way to London, see an American musical – and find it so familiar, so real and well-observed, witty, loving and even joyous, that you wonder how it is possible that you hadn’t’ seen it before. The play is Avenue Q, and for most people it will be a “yeah, and???” because it won so many Tonys, including Best Musical, Best Book, Best Direction of a musical, Best Performance by a leading actor in a musical, and Best Performace by a leading actress in a musical, and because everyone has written about it for years. Hah! And Cindy thinks she made some great discovery!
In fact, I do think I’ve made a great discovery – that it’s still possible that an entire theater full of people from dozens of countries (just seated directly around us were India, New Zealand, Australia and France) can respond to something without helicopters or wild moving sets or TV/film stars in the cast — something so completely human (well, if you count the puppets who are in fact among the “most” human) that it inspired and moved us all. That all this can be accomplished with warmth and — I know this sounds corny — a real affection for what makes us human, for the power of laughter and of songs. Both of us feel that we had a perfect evening, one that inspires gratitude, even. Here’s a little of it for you, in case you missed it too.(From the Tony’s)
WONDERFUL WILLIAM STYRON
In 1968 I was a volunteer in the Eugene McCarthy anti-war presidential campaign. Most of the time I took care of the press, riding on the press bus and handling logistics for filing stories and getting to the plane on time. Frequently, when celebrities were campaigning with the Senator they’d ride for a while on the press bus, so I got to meet some pretty amazing people, from Robert Lowell to Tony Randall to William Styron, who died this week.
I had just read The Confessions of Nat Turner, his 1967 Pulitzer Prize-winning book about a slave revolt in Virginia in 1831, which I had loved. I knew of his close friendship with James Baldwin, whom I really admired, and imagined that the book was written partly as a cry for justice for his friend and other black Americans. (OK I was 20, what do you want?) I sat down beside him on the bus and was able to let him know how much I admired him and his work.
The next day, literally, there was a horrible piece about the book and Styron’s “racism” in some lefty publication (can’t remember which one) He walked down the aisle of the bus and dropped it in my lap – “see — see what they’re doing to me?” he said sadly. I have never forgotten that day – the punishment he took for imagining the rage and longing for justice on the part of a charismatic slave — and the sweetness of the man himself. Only later did I learn of his battles with depression. I don’t know if it’s true that one must suffer for one’s art, but he certainly did.
Of course, people know him better for Sophie’s Choice and the Meryl Streep film — again about the unimaginable persecution of a minority. I guess it’s no accident that his wife Rose was so closely tied to Amnesty International for so long.
Anyway I am thinking of him today — of his deep moral sense so well communicated in his work – and of the amazing privilege of knowing him, if only for a little while.