I'm going swing dancing tonight but I keep postponing leaving the apartment because my shirt is wrinkled and I hope if I sit here long enough, the wrinkles will just fall out.
Anyone know a way to make them fall faster? And don't you dare say the "I" word. stfu.
UPDATE: Totally didn't work. Wrinkles are still there. F**k it, I'm going anyway.
UPDATE 2: You know what DOES work to get rid of wrinkles? Dancing. Getting all hot and sweaty. My shirt was steamed naturally from the inside out. And it's totally wrinkle free!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
If I was Arnold Schwartzzzenegggger, I'd say, "I'll be back." But I'm not. So I won't.
I'm thinking about blogging again. Yes, this is a blog to tell you I'm thinking about blogging.
You've been warned.
Until then, I'll leave you with a picture of some cute little bunnies.
UPDATE: No, Google, that's not what I meant. Just.... nevermind.
UPDATED 2: I've been reading a lot of The Bloggess lately, which made me realize all of the inane thoughts that are being funneled into my Facebook status updates should really be going into something productive. Like a blog. Don't judge me.
I'm actually thinking of starting a BRAND NEW BLOG (all caps totally necessary), one that is a little fancier with a new, as-yet-undecided domain and a homepage that perhaps looks less like a template. If you'd like to design me something pretty, I'll give you a slice of leftover birthday cake. That's a promise. Unless I eat it all first. Then I'll make you a new cake. Which is even better.
You've been warned.
Until then, I'll leave you with a picture of some cute little bunnies.
UPDATE: No, Google, that's not what I meant. Just.... nevermind.
UPDATED 2: I've been reading a lot of The Bloggess lately, which made me realize all of the inane thoughts that are being funneled into my Facebook status updates should really be going into something productive. Like a blog. Don't judge me.
I'm actually thinking of starting a BRAND NEW BLOG (all caps totally necessary), one that is a little fancier with a new, as-yet-undecided domain and a homepage that perhaps looks less like a template. If you'd like to design me something pretty, I'll give you a slice of leftover birthday cake. That's a promise. Unless I eat it all first. Then I'll make you a new cake. Which is even better.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
A note on apartment names
I get a kick out of really sleazy apartment complexes that give themselves these grandiose names in an attempt to lure in residents. It's like they're trying to trick people into thinking they won't be living in a hole of despair.
They have names like The Bel Air. Malibu. Coronado. Anything named after Southern California. Anything with "Heights" or "Vista" in the name. Sometimes they even throw in the word "Beach." You might be hundreds of miles from the nearest beach but hey, they have a pool. Sometimes you even see a combination of the above names, like Coronado Heights or Mailbu Vista. Don't be deceived. "Vista" generally refers to a view, so in a complex called Malibu Vista, all this really means is that you'll be living in a rat-infested hell hole AND your window overlooks a non-rat-infested complex, so you'll have a perfect view of the life you could be living. That's what we call a double whammy.
That's not to say all apartments with these names are rat-infested hell holes but you can be sure most rat-infested hell holes have splendid names.
And you know, if I was looking the apartment up in a phone book, I might just fall for this tactic. "Oooh, The Bel Air must be really nice. I know the real Bel Air in Los Angeles is ritzy, so this must be also... even though it's on the wrong side of town. Must be an oasis of beauty tucked inside the ghetto." But if I'm there in person and can see the peeling paint and the missing letters that read "_he Be_ _ir," I'm not going to fall for it. Why? Because I can see. And smell. And was that a gunshot I just heard? So much for that "oasis of beauty" idea. Hey, that's a pretty good apartment name...
They have names like The Bel Air. Malibu. Coronado. Anything named after Southern California. Anything with "Heights" or "Vista" in the name. Sometimes they even throw in the word "Beach." You might be hundreds of miles from the nearest beach but hey, they have a pool. Sometimes you even see a combination of the above names, like Coronado Heights or Mailbu Vista. Don't be deceived. "Vista" generally refers to a view, so in a complex called Malibu Vista, all this really means is that you'll be living in a rat-infested hell hole AND your window overlooks a non-rat-infested complex, so you'll have a perfect view of the life you could be living. That's what we call a double whammy.
That's not to say all apartments with these names are rat-infested hell holes but you can be sure most rat-infested hell holes have splendid names.
And you know, if I was looking the apartment up in a phone book, I might just fall for this tactic. "Oooh, The Bel Air must be really nice. I know the real Bel Air in Los Angeles is ritzy, so this must be also... even though it's on the wrong side of town. Must be an oasis of beauty tucked inside the ghetto." But if I'm there in person and can see the peeling paint and the missing letters that read "_he Be_ _ir," I'm not going to fall for it. Why? Because I can see. And smell. And was that a gunshot I just heard? So much for that "oasis of beauty" idea. Hey, that's a pretty good apartment name...
Friday, September 25, 2009
VCWhat?
Now that the new television season has started it is time, once again, to dust off the VCR.
Yes, you heard me right, I said VCR. I didn't say DVR. I didn't say Tivo or Hulu or some new-fangled Satellite recording device that has yet to hit the mainstream home market. I said VCR. You know that machine with the tapes... the one that used to sit in the livingroom underneath the television and flash 12:00 because you never knew how to set the time? Yeah, that one.
With all the selections out there, good old fashioned VHS tapes are still my recording method of choice. Why? I'm glad you asked. I'll tell you why. Because it's hard to justify a monthly fee to be able to record my shows. It's as simple as that. DVR is a fantastic technology and I know as soon as I get it, I will never go back. But why would I pay a monthly fee to record my shows when I can do it from home for FREE? And have you seen the price of tapes lately? I could find that much in my couch cushion... and I don't make a habit of losing money in the couch.
Sure, Hulu is free and a lot of the networks stream shows on their websites, but not all of them. If I want to catch, for example, an episode of the Odd Couple, circa 1972, that I know is going to be on TV Land, I'll be disappointed to learn that ABC isn't streaming Odd Couple re-runs on the Internet. Yes, that's right, ABC has abandoned this show. It's a pity, really. And TV Land does stream old shows but the Odd Couple doesn't happen to be one of their chosen few. If, however, I notice the episode I want to see is on television, I simply pop the tape in and press record. Voila. And I can even set it to record hours or days in advance... as long as the power doesn't go out.
Anyway, so mom was at the grocery store stocking up on tapes to get us through the latest TV season (since I'm gone five nights a week and am a TV junkie). After roaming around the store for a while, mom finally spotted some tapes. And they were a quarter each. Jackpot. She grabbed three (though she thought about clearing them out and taking everything they had) and went to check out. That's 18 hours of recording magic for under a dollar. I have two words for that - Hells. Yeah.
So mom got to the checkout and when it was her turn in line, the checker spotted the tapes and said, "Oh, what are you going to do with all of these VHS tapes."
....
Seriously? Are you unaware of how these tapes are used? Or are you just another snooty DVR user who thinks everyone has this technology? Think of these black plastic bricks as an ancient DVR. Mom was taken aback. She said, "Uhh, tape things on them" and when the girl didn't really respond, mom said, "I don't have DVR or Tivo or anything." And then - this is the kicker - the girl said, "awww." And it wasn't just any, "awww," this was an "awww" full of pity. As if anyone who doesn't have DVR is experiencing a hardship worthy of a government bailout. As if you could find people on street corners with cardboard signs that say, "I have a home but no DVR. Anything helps."
After the fact mom realized she should have come up with some great answer to explain why anyone would want to use a VHS tape. So I've compiled a list of the Top 25 answers she should have given when asked, "What are you going to do with all of these VHS tapes?"
Here they are:
25. "Wouldn't you like to know..." *wink*
24. "OH! Is THAT what those are?"
23. "I'm building a fort."
22. "I'm using them to re-tile my floor. You wouldn't believe how much cheaper these are than standard tile. And nobody will ever know the difference........"
21. "I've been feeling a little depressed and you guys don't sell rope."
20. "Paper weight."
19. "I'm using them to level my desk."
18. "I'm using the tape to line the bird cage. It costs less than a newspaper."
17. "It's an arts and crafts project."
16. "I'm brushing up on my survival skills. Didn't you ever see Cast Away?"
15. "I'm making a film set in the 80s and I want it to be as authentic as possible. I'm hoping to track down some MC Hammer pants and a Members Only Jacket."
14. "I'm putting together a time capsule to be opened in 50 years. I'm searching for things that won't be around in half a century, note the 35 millimeter film that is also in my basket. By the way, do you guys carry polar bears?"
13. "I'm from 1987 and in my time, tapes cost more than a quarter."
12. "I'm from the post-apocalyptic future, where all satellites have failed and we've had to revert back to this antiquated method of information storage... and in my time, tapes cost more than a quarter."
11. "I'm from Soviet Russia, where we do not know of this Dee Vee Arr or TeaVogue. And where I'm from, tapes cost more than a quarter."
10. "The end is nigh. Once the nukes blow and all infrastructure is destroyed, your DVR will be useless."
9. "I'm a collector. I already have a bunch of Maxells but I've been having trouble finding the Fujifilm. These are going to be worth a lot of money someday. "
8. "I ran out of packing peanuts."
7. "I need a bow to put on this gift I'm wrapping."
6. "I'm going to pull the tape out and use it as Easter Grass. Gotta tighten the belt. We are in a recession, after all."
5. "I'm making Pom-Poms."
4. "Dude, plastic is a petroleum product and I'm hoping to recycle these into a new form of fuel to reduce our dependency on foreign oil. Dude."
3. "They make great shoe laces."
2. "My Betamax player broke so I'm upgrading."
And last but not least, the number one answer my mom should have given the cashier...
1. "Because it's a f***ing quarter!"
Simple as that. 'nuff said. Not everyone has made the switch to DVR and if you have a VCR that still works, why not use it? When this one dies, maybe I won't go out of my way to get a new one but I sure as hell will use this thing until it begs for mercy and screams the safe word.
Yes, you heard me right, I said VCR. I didn't say DVR. I didn't say Tivo or Hulu or some new-fangled Satellite recording device that has yet to hit the mainstream home market. I said VCR. You know that machine with the tapes... the one that used to sit in the livingroom underneath the television and flash 12:00 because you never knew how to set the time? Yeah, that one.
With all the selections out there, good old fashioned VHS tapes are still my recording method of choice. Why? I'm glad you asked. I'll tell you why. Because it's hard to justify a monthly fee to be able to record my shows. It's as simple as that. DVR is a fantastic technology and I know as soon as I get it, I will never go back. But why would I pay a monthly fee to record my shows when I can do it from home for FREE? And have you seen the price of tapes lately? I could find that much in my couch cushion... and I don't make a habit of losing money in the couch.
Sure, Hulu is free and a lot of the networks stream shows on their websites, but not all of them. If I want to catch, for example, an episode of the Odd Couple, circa 1972, that I know is going to be on TV Land, I'll be disappointed to learn that ABC isn't streaming Odd Couple re-runs on the Internet. Yes, that's right, ABC has abandoned this show. It's a pity, really. And TV Land does stream old shows but the Odd Couple doesn't happen to be one of their chosen few. If, however, I notice the episode I want to see is on television, I simply pop the tape in and press record. Voila. And I can even set it to record hours or days in advance... as long as the power doesn't go out.
Anyway, so mom was at the grocery store stocking up on tapes to get us through the latest TV season (since I'm gone five nights a week and am a TV junkie). After roaming around the store for a while, mom finally spotted some tapes. And they were a quarter each. Jackpot. She grabbed three (though she thought about clearing them out and taking everything they had) and went to check out. That's 18 hours of recording magic for under a dollar. I have two words for that - Hells. Yeah.
So mom got to the checkout and when it was her turn in line, the checker spotted the tapes and said, "Oh, what are you going to do with all of these VHS tapes."
....
Seriously? Are you unaware of how these tapes are used? Or are you just another snooty DVR user who thinks everyone has this technology? Think of these black plastic bricks as an ancient DVR. Mom was taken aback. She said, "Uhh, tape things on them" and when the girl didn't really respond, mom said, "I don't have DVR or Tivo or anything." And then - this is the kicker - the girl said, "awww." And it wasn't just any, "awww," this was an "awww" full of pity. As if anyone who doesn't have DVR is experiencing a hardship worthy of a government bailout. As if you could find people on street corners with cardboard signs that say, "I have a home but no DVR. Anything helps."
After the fact mom realized she should have come up with some great answer to explain why anyone would want to use a VHS tape. So I've compiled a list of the Top 25 answers she should have given when asked, "What are you going to do with all of these VHS tapes?"
Here they are:
25. "Wouldn't you like to know..." *wink*
24. "OH! Is THAT what those are?"
23. "I'm building a fort."
22. "I'm using them to re-tile my floor. You wouldn't believe how much cheaper these are than standard tile. And nobody will ever know the difference........"
21. "I've been feeling a little depressed and you guys don't sell rope."
20. "Paper weight."
19. "I'm using them to level my desk."
18. "I'm using the tape to line the bird cage. It costs less than a newspaper."
17. "It's an arts and crafts project."
16. "I'm brushing up on my survival skills. Didn't you ever see Cast Away?"
15. "I'm making a film set in the 80s and I want it to be as authentic as possible. I'm hoping to track down some MC Hammer pants and a Members Only Jacket."
14. "I'm putting together a time capsule to be opened in 50 years. I'm searching for things that won't be around in half a century, note the 35 millimeter film that is also in my basket. By the way, do you guys carry polar bears?"
13. "I'm from 1987 and in my time, tapes cost more than a quarter."
12. "I'm from the post-apocalyptic future, where all satellites have failed and we've had to revert back to this antiquated method of information storage... and in my time, tapes cost more than a quarter."
11. "I'm from Soviet Russia, where we do not know of this Dee Vee Arr or TeaVogue. And where I'm from, tapes cost more than a quarter."
10. "The end is nigh. Once the nukes blow and all infrastructure is destroyed, your DVR will be useless."
9. "I'm a collector. I already have a bunch of Maxells but I've been having trouble finding the Fujifilm. These are going to be worth a lot of money someday. "
8. "I ran out of packing peanuts."
7. "I need a bow to put on this gift I'm wrapping."
6. "I'm going to pull the tape out and use it as Easter Grass. Gotta tighten the belt. We are in a recession, after all."
5. "I'm making Pom-Poms."
4. "Dude, plastic is a petroleum product and I'm hoping to recycle these into a new form of fuel to reduce our dependency on foreign oil. Dude."
3. "They make great shoe laces."
2. "My Betamax player broke so I'm upgrading."
And last but not least, the number one answer my mom should have given the cashier...
1. "Because it's a f***ing quarter!"
Simple as that. 'nuff said. Not everyone has made the switch to DVR and if you have a VCR that still works, why not use it? When this one dies, maybe I won't go out of my way to get a new one but I sure as hell will use this thing until it begs for mercy and screams the safe word.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Who wears short skirts?
Dear ladies of the world,
If you decide to wear a short, short skirt to the mall, don't stand next to the glass railings on the second floor. That is, unless you're an exhibitionist and want everyone on the lower level to see your Magic Kingdom.
If that's the case - mission accomplished. Congratulations.
Thank you kindly,
The Accidental Panty Peepers
If you decide to wear a short, short skirt to the mall, don't stand next to the glass railings on the second floor. That is, unless you're an exhibitionist and want everyone on the lower level to see your Magic Kingdom.
If that's the case - mission accomplished. Congratulations.
Thank you kindly,
The Accidental Panty Peepers
The Magicians: A Review
The Magicians By Lev Grossman
On the book jacket of Lev Grossman’s The Magicians, a reviewer uses the phrase “Harry Potter goes to college,” so when I cracked open the book, I turned on my Harry Potter mindset. I was ready for magic, adventure and a replacement romp with a Potter-like character now that the Rowling-penned series has come to a close. That mindset didn’t last long.
Imagine Harry Potter’s life post-Hogwarts. Ditch Harry’s trademark round spectacles and lightning bolt scar and toss his high moral fiber and supreme sense of right versus wrong. Throw out his intense courage and add a few glaring character flaws for good measure. Put him in a brown and blue Brakebills uniform and now you have Quentin Coldwater. In short the book’s hero, if you can call him that, is Harry’s polar opposite. The similarities between the Potter series and The Magicians end after the phrase, “school for magic.” Add a dash of hard drugs, a few helpings of sex and copious amounts of alcohol and then we might have a comparison.
For most of his life, Quentin Coldwater has been obsessed with the fictional, Narnia-like world of Fillory. He’s an otherwise normal (but brilliant) high school senior who can’t catch a break until he’s swept off to Brakebills, a magical university that only accepts 20 students each year. Quentin is lucky enough to be among the 20, so he skips high school graduation, leaves his uncaring parents behind and settles in for five years at a school where he’s certain he’ll find his way. But it’s never that easy. Graduation comes half-way through the book and Quentin is thrown back out into a world where he can (and does) get away with anything.
In a sense, The Magicians brings magic into the real world, complete with all its real world problems. The Magicians is a more realistic, less idealistic version of a fantasy; it’s hard to even call it fantasy. Sure there’s magic, but there’s also addictions, heartbreak and depression. The Magicians is three parts reality to every one part fantasy. Even Quentin comes to learn that his beloved Narnia-inspired Fillory isn’t so innocent. If Narnia is a bedtime story, Fillory is the Tim Burton version of the same story. It’s dark and it’s twisted and it’s not as innocent as the magical land on which it draws its inspiration.
Grossman borrows from more than just C.S. Lewis and the Potter series and any reader of children’s fantasy (or fantasy in general) will appreciate the references. It hints at The Wizard of Oz and The Lord of the Rings and even gives a gentle nod to Dr. Seuss. In that way, The Magicians does what other books about magic fail to do – it acknowledges what came before it.
That said, the book is by no means perfect. It's 416 pages but it reads like it should have been much, much longer. 500, 600, 700 pages… Grossman seems to be in a hurry to brush past details that seem important and at times it felt downright choppy, as if Grossman’s literary exposition was hacked and diced by an editor’s cruelly efficient red pen. The result is literary slaughter. With one exception, everything in the first half of the book is given equal weight. Things that seem important are glossed over, their mention almost casual, and a few chapters read more like a list than a novel - "This happened, then this happened, then this happened..." and so on, until we come to a major event that forces time to slow down.
It was difficult to put my finger on the specific problems of the book’s early chapters but I could tell there was something off. A friend of mine, who is currently a few chapters into the book, stated that she wanted to yell, “Lev, SHOW us, don’t TELL us.” And that’s precisely it. As a reader, we want the words to show us, in great detail, what is happening to these characters. It sounds cliché to say, “paint a picture with words,” but that’s exactly what needs to happen. In some places, Grossman does this just fine but in others he is simply too rushed to get on to the next major event. I’m not sure if this is a problem with Grossman as a writer or if his original manuscript was an enormous tome that was whittled down to something more approachable, but the first half of the book is difficult to read. What they should have done, in my opinion, is split the story into several works, rather than mangle the lengthy volume into submission.
Grossman’s writing style, which is unique but not stylistically comfortable, also caused problems at times. He didn’t really settle into his style until the second half of the book and even then it was still a little on edge. Grossman seemed to be trying to develop his own literary style – he wants to be remembered as a unique voice in American literature, or so it would seem – but at times it felt like he was trying too hard. He wants to develop a style that’s unlike any other and he didn’t fail completely at this, there are a few passages where he really brings this new style to life, but it took 200 pages for him to get comfortable with his own voice.
Grossman is hardly an inexperienced writer. By day he’s a Time Magazine book reviewer and he holds degrees in comparative literature from Harvard and Yale. He’s a smart guy who knows good literature, so I find the glaring problems with The Magicians a little confusing, which is why I'm inclined to blame the editor. But Grossman is relatively inexperienced as a novelist (Warp was released in 1997 and Codex in 2004), so I think the trouble lies in two places: first, Grossman is a journalist, like it or not, so he’s used to changing projects every thousand words. Taking on a project of this length can be problematic for a journalist (trust me, I know). The second danger zone comes at the meeting of an overzealous writer with an editor and his vicious red pen – a dangerous combination.
I'm inclined to blame Viking for the majority of The Magicians’ problems, including a few minor annoyances that, individually, aren't enough to make me set the book aside, but they do add up. On the inside cover of the book is an artist’s rendering of the mythical
But of all the things in this book that bothered me, and there were quite a few, I think the biggest (it was actually the smallest but it pissed me off the most) was a sudden hair color change for the female lead. On page 51, upon her introduction,
On top of its issues, the book closed with several loose ends. I smell a sequel. But after the disappointment here, I can't guarantee I'll read it. There have been several series in the past that I would read even if the pages were made out of dog poop. If the words inside are guaranteed to be good, I'll take a chance on it. With The Magicians and any other Grossman books that may follow, it’s not a given that I’ll read on. There's too much uncertainty.
So my recommendation? Skip it. Or, if you're still interested, check it out at the library or wait a year or so for it to land in stores as a paperback. It's not worth the $26.95 price tag. All in all, I didn’t hate The Magicians. In fact, after the midway point there were a few parts of it I actually enjoyed, but the attempt as a whole, to me, fell flat. Two-and-a-half bowls of soup out of five. Though interesting at times, The Magicians failed to live up to its promise.
Monday, July 6, 2009
A Wicked Friendship
I love the Wizard of Oz. I love it for its painted sets and its cheery optimism and the full Technicolor spectrum. I love it for its imperfections and the downright cheese factor of the whole affair. It’s safe to say the 1939 film is my favorite of all time.
I read the L. Frank Baum classic a few years back expecting a delightful Harry Potter/Narnia hybrid romp down the brick-lined path and it was nothing of the sort. It was childish and simple and at times downright bizarre. It really was nothing like I was expecting, nothing like the movie; that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it but it just loses something without the vibrant colors and Judy Garland soundtrack. I followed it up with a reading of Gregory Maguire’s Wicked, which provides a back story for the infamous Wicked Witch of the West. I found the concept for Maguire’s novel intriguing but in execution it was wordy and complex. The character relationships were anything but straightforward, add to that Maguire’s immensely broad vocabulary (for a book based on a children’s story) and you come up with a novel that left me a little cold.
Despite being underwhelmed by both books, my affinity for all things Oz made me curious about the musical stage adaptation of Wicked. The show appeared, at least to me, to have captured a little bit of the magic that made the Wizard of Oz movie so inviting, even if I wasn’t a huge fan of the novel. So when the show came to town I arrived at the theater with my Oz obsession in tow, knowing it might not live up to the hype.
But it did. It was everything I wanted it to be and more. The music is fantastic, the cast was excellent and everything about the look and feel and sound of the show was even better than I could have imagined (it did win Tonys for Best Scenic Design and Best Costume Design, after all). For more than a month I’ve been pondering what it is about the show that makes it different. Besides the music and the sets and the amazing performances, what is it about this show that makes it so touching – so beautiful? It doesn’t hurt that it’s about two strong women (name one other live show with TWO female leads) but I’ve decided that what makes all the difference is that Wicked is, first and foremost, a story about a friendship. Romantic relationships are interspersed, a love triangle is thrown in for drama and tenuous family relationships are tossed into the mix but at the heart of the story exists a friendship between two very strong – but very different – women.
It seems to me that this is a completely new genre for show business. You have your love stories where the ups and downs of romance are the driving force behind the dramatic structure. Then you have your family stories with blood-related broods that are either very happy or very sad (usually sad with a gentle crescendo to happy or at least moderately happy). Next you have your buddy stories where two characters (sometimes more), go through something that either bonds them or rips them apart. These stories are usually either comic fluff or sappy melodramas. One other category, ensemble pieces, exists in its own sphere.
Most of the friendships that are portrayed in the stories we read/see/consume are in solo stories. In these types of stories, one character goes through trials and the obligatory tribulations and there’s usually a less important friend by their side that gets downgraded to a sidekick or, worse yet, “comic relief.” They grow very little throughout the story; the story arc for these types of characters tends to be very short. But a friend story that is neither fluff comedy or melodrama and places both friends on the same level seems revolutionary.
Wicked doesn’t seem to fit into any of the above formats. Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) is the “main character” but the story here is as much Glinda’s and, even more importantly, the two women are placed as equals. Glinda doesn’t take on the role of “sidekick” in Elphaba’s story and while our sparkly Good Witch of the North is unquestionable funny, she’s hardly comic relief. Just when you think she’s about to step into that role you start to notice a character arc building, and a growth begins that surpasses even her green-skinned friend.
It would have been really easy to have gone awry with this story. They could have dropped the curtain with Glinda laughing as the munchkins dance around singing “Ding Dong the Witch is dead.” But I somehow think that would have been so much less satisfying. Instead it ends with Glinda tormented over the loss of the only friend that has ever meant something to her.
The friendship that is forged here becomes the story. It’s not a subplot or a sideline story that gets dusted over on the way to the real meat. It’s not a small story arc buried inside a larger, more complex series of arcs. It’s the story in full, Elphaba is the meat and Glinda is the potatoes. And that allows the friendship to develop before our eyes into something very touching. To watch these two characters change together, change one another, is a truly beautiful thing. As an audience we can see how each life was touched by the other. It’s a different kind of love than is normally seen in the stories we consume. The love of friendship can be just as strong and just as life-altering as a romance and it’s something everyone can relate to. We’ve all had a friend that has changed our lives, the way Elphaba and Glinda change each other.
The Ancient Greeks had four distinct words for love, all describing different kinds of love in different kinds of relationships. They were each elements of the same concept but they all had a separate meaning. There was romantic love, of course, but the love of a friend warranted its own unique definition. We’re inundated on a daily basis by stories of sappy romantic love but it’s rare to find a story of friendship that is so deep and heartfelt. I knew I was going to like Wicked for its music and its general stage presence but it was the heart of the story that helped it surpass even my most giddy expectations. If you haven’t seen it – go. Now.
I read the L. Frank Baum classic a few years back expecting a delightful Harry Potter/Narnia hybrid romp down the brick-lined path and it was nothing of the sort. It was childish and simple and at times downright bizarre. It really was nothing like I was expecting, nothing like the movie; that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it but it just loses something without the vibrant colors and Judy Garland soundtrack. I followed it up with a reading of Gregory Maguire’s Wicked, which provides a back story for the infamous Wicked Witch of the West. I found the concept for Maguire’s novel intriguing but in execution it was wordy and complex. The character relationships were anything but straightforward, add to that Maguire’s immensely broad vocabulary (for a book based on a children’s story) and you come up with a novel that left me a little cold.
Despite being underwhelmed by both books, my affinity for all things Oz made me curious about the musical stage adaptation of Wicked. The show appeared, at least to me, to have captured a little bit of the magic that made the Wizard of Oz movie so inviting, even if I wasn’t a huge fan of the novel. So when the show came to town I arrived at the theater with my Oz obsession in tow, knowing it might not live up to the hype.
But it did. It was everything I wanted it to be and more. The music is fantastic, the cast was excellent and everything about the look and feel and sound of the show was even better than I could have imagined (it did win Tonys for Best Scenic Design and Best Costume Design, after all). For more than a month I’ve been pondering what it is about the show that makes it different. Besides the music and the sets and the amazing performances, what is it about this show that makes it so touching – so beautiful? It doesn’t hurt that it’s about two strong women (name one other live show with TWO female leads) but I’ve decided that what makes all the difference is that Wicked is, first and foremost, a story about a friendship. Romantic relationships are interspersed, a love triangle is thrown in for drama and tenuous family relationships are tossed into the mix but at the heart of the story exists a friendship between two very strong – but very different – women.
It seems to me that this is a completely new genre for show business. You have your love stories where the ups and downs of romance are the driving force behind the dramatic structure. Then you have your family stories with blood-related broods that are either very happy or very sad (usually sad with a gentle crescendo to happy or at least moderately happy). Next you have your buddy stories where two characters (sometimes more), go through something that either bonds them or rips them apart. These stories are usually either comic fluff or sappy melodramas. One other category, ensemble pieces, exists in its own sphere.
Most of the friendships that are portrayed in the stories we read/see/consume are in solo stories. In these types of stories, one character goes through trials and the obligatory tribulations and there’s usually a less important friend by their side that gets downgraded to a sidekick or, worse yet, “comic relief.” They grow very little throughout the story; the story arc for these types of characters tends to be very short. But a friend story that is neither fluff comedy or melodrama and places both friends on the same level seems revolutionary.
Wicked doesn’t seem to fit into any of the above formats. Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) is the “main character” but the story here is as much Glinda’s and, even more importantly, the two women are placed as equals. Glinda doesn’t take on the role of “sidekick” in Elphaba’s story and while our sparkly Good Witch of the North is unquestionable funny, she’s hardly comic relief. Just when you think she’s about to step into that role you start to notice a character arc building, and a growth begins that surpasses even her green-skinned friend.
It would have been really easy to have gone awry with this story. They could have dropped the curtain with Glinda laughing as the munchkins dance around singing “Ding Dong the Witch is dead.” But I somehow think that would have been so much less satisfying. Instead it ends with Glinda tormented over the loss of the only friend that has ever meant something to her.
The friendship that is forged here becomes the story. It’s not a subplot or a sideline story that gets dusted over on the way to the real meat. It’s not a small story arc buried inside a larger, more complex series of arcs. It’s the story in full, Elphaba is the meat and Glinda is the potatoes. And that allows the friendship to develop before our eyes into something very touching. To watch these two characters change together, change one another, is a truly beautiful thing. As an audience we can see how each life was touched by the other. It’s a different kind of love than is normally seen in the stories we consume. The love of friendship can be just as strong and just as life-altering as a romance and it’s something everyone can relate to. We’ve all had a friend that has changed our lives, the way Elphaba and Glinda change each other.
The Ancient Greeks had four distinct words for love, all describing different kinds of love in different kinds of relationships. They were each elements of the same concept but they all had a separate meaning. There was romantic love, of course, but the love of a friend warranted its own unique definition. We’re inundated on a daily basis by stories of sappy romantic love but it’s rare to find a story of friendship that is so deep and heartfelt. I knew I was going to like Wicked for its music and its general stage presence but it was the heart of the story that helped it surpass even my most giddy expectations. If you haven’t seen it – go. Now.
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