We are stardust, we are golden

Demetri Martin tells my second favorite joke: (it goes something like this)

I went to a party and I saw a guy in a leather coat. And I thought, That is cool.

Then I saw a guy in a leather vest. And I thought, That is so not cool.

That's when I figured out the secret to coolness: leather sleeves.

I haven't ever watched his show, though The Knight gave it a lukewarm review when it premiered last year. I have seen a few of his stand up routines via YouTube.

Maybe that was my mistake. I thought "Taking Woodstock" would be a comedy. Demetri Martin has that dead-pan, non-sequitor comedy down pat and so I expected the light-hearted '60s love the trailer seemed to promise. The movie takes a more serious tone, dealing with a Jewish-American family, PTSD and a young man's coming of age in the context of building the Woodstock concert. As one of the most culturally defining moments in recent American history, and music history in general, Woodstock is a big undertaking to consider, especially since so much has been said about its anniversary this year. That's not the problem with "Taking Woodstock," though.

The scope is there and the behind-the-scenes building and deal signing is all there, too. Finding out how Yasgur - a gone-too-soon Eugene Levy - ended up hosting the event was fascinating and I plan on watching the documentary now. The problem for me was Martin. The movie focused so much on his struggles, the concert felt secondary. His acid trip and mudsliding seemed to be important, personal experiences attendees would have had, but I just have to believe the attendees would have been more interesting than Martin. I don't know if it he was miscast or if the part was just that bland, but I never felt emotionally invested in him enough to cry when with him when he looked down from that grassy hill onto the tiny music stage. I couldn't feel how beautiful it was.

While most the film was pretty standard, grainy, documentary-style shots and split screens made it much more interesting. Paint and pictures swam brightly on Martin's acid trip. The rolling grassy hills of the Catskills. Topless chicks swaying to the rhythm of their own inner peace. Watermelon slices selling for 35 cents on the New York State Thruway. The detail was complete, even if the acting wasn't all the time.

Most importantly. Woodstock was peace and music and there is startlingly little music in "Taking Woodstock." I mean, I'm sure there's a soundtrack somewhere, but the movie focuses so much on the non-music parts, the event feels hallow because we don't get to experience what the half-a-million-strong drove thousands of miles for.

After all that, I would say I enjoyed "Taking Woodstock." It needed a bit more oomph to be the Woodstock movie. I don't think it was trying to be, but someone has to do it and this movie has potential. I though it might give me what I wanted "Across the Universe" to, as it's early previews promised: a front seat to the greatest musical event and one of the most inspiring musical eras of all time...that I missed.

Because I wasn't born yet.

Jazz Fingers

A couple years ago, I wrote a review of a JazzErie performance at Gannon University. Students got in for free and the public had to pay $25 or something. It was phenomenal. I remember giving it a rave review and suggesting the school bring more eclectic music to campus - not just the programming board's few attempts at coffeehouses and "big concerts." I don't think Fabalous is quite big enough to draw a huge crowd. Jazz is an experience you have with your body, not just your ears. It's a sound that reaches down in your stomach and tells you to sway, to love the wind through the trees and appreciate. Jazz is like butter - smooth and subtle when used right.

My friend will be interning with Jazz Central in Syracuse this fall. Tonight we went to a Jazz in the City performance in Little Italy on North Salina Street. It was outdoors, it was the perfect temperature and the average listener was probably 60. (We got hit on a few times, more because we were the youngest girls there than our beauty. Though we were a good-lookin' trio.) I'm glad to see that because it's considered gospel that people don't like to come downtown for anything, though I don't know if the crowd was from the suburbs or the city. Anyway, the turn out was pretty good, despite the lack of young people. What was really interesting was the number of young people helping, though. A few sat behind tables and we chatted with a current intern at Jazz Central who is in his mid-20s. Obviously, from the way he talked about it, jazz isn't just for those that lived through Miles Davis' glory years. 

The playing was great, of course. The flutist really impressed me, maybe because I play the flute and maybe because he was just that good. The guitar-player spun through runs and the drummer had some wailing solos. Those are the best words I can use; I don't know jazz terminology. I can't tell if it's improv or on paper. But I can tell a tight band. And I can react to the music itself and feel the reactions of those around me. With jazz, good jazz (the kind Guy Patterson likes), you feel it. I don't think I need to know the proper terms for that.  

A night at the opera

Having grown up listening to, seeing and participating in musical theater, I don't consider myself a novice about performance. I've done my own performing, sets, design, costume and been a willing audience member. Never have I been to the opera, however.

The Glimmerglass Opera's "La Traviata" was my very first experience with the art form and it was as spectacular as I had hoped. First of all, the soprano playing Violetta, Mary Dunleavy, is extraordinary. Her highest notes seemed effortless and she looked just beautiful. In the first act, though, Dunleavy's costume didn't seem to fit her character, a courtesan. Instead of red, or lace, or something particularly busty to signify her promiscuity, she wore pastel pink and green with sequined roses. True, the creation was lovely and it matched the set's sofa nicely, but it did not set an appropriate contrast with act two's white dress. A member of our group told me that was to signal her "new virginity" as she began her life with Alfredo.

Alfredo, played by Ryan MacPherson, had a good voice. My favorite male role was the Baron, mostly because of all the male players, his voice was the brightest - the closest to a music theater sound, which I can tell you I much prefer over the dark tones of male opera singers. MacPherson held up well next to Dunleavy's stage prowess. Another but: In act two, he lays helpless on a couch in such a position that I couldn't take him seriously as he sang this gorgeous aria. Similarly, he leaned against a wall at one point later in the scene so pathetically. Granted, Alfredo isn't the manliest of men, in fact, he reminded me of Alex in "Aspects of Love" a little bit, but I couldn't help but think he was a wuss, simply from these stances. I recognize how picky that is. Some things just stick with you.

Oh! Justice Ginsberg was also there tonight. That's just crazy. 

Glimmerglass is truly a treasure to Central New York. It's interesting that such an accomplished opera company exists in literally the middle of nowhere. A beautiful nowhere, but it's even 20 minutes or so from the actual village of Cooperstown. 

By the way, the Baseball Hall of Fame is great. I thought of it as a nice contrast to the opera, an everyday-person's kind of outing. After seeing "La Traviata" at Glimmerglass, though, I would take anyone to see an opera. I'd always been under the impression that opera was inaccessible to those not in the know, those who don't speak the language, either Italian or of "high art" (I quote that will some disdain and disagreement). Glimmerglass's Alice Busch Theatre is perfect, only about 900 seats, and always sub titled. We also got to meet Robert, one of this summer's Young American Artists. To me, that was excellent. It took these anachronistic singers off the stage and into jeans, just in general. I also think the YAA program is a great idea and if I had more than $11 in my wallet, I might consider giving to it. 

Someone's got to fund their dreams.