Whatever they might have been earlier in their careers (in most cases, highly distinguished professors), these people are no longer really educators, scholars, or citizens of their communities. They are the hired agents of corporatized governing boards, moving from one university to another in search of some grail of ambition. It’s not uncommon for presidents and chancellors to have held senior administrative positions at three, four, or five institutions. As far as I can tell, the four leaders mentioned above have had, among the lot of them, senior administrative roles at 14 universities in the U.S. and Canada. (Spanier’s 16 years as president of Penn State was a long tenure, but it was his fourth high-level administrative job.) Having been everywhere, in another sense these people belong nowhere. They have been hired for certain things at which they excel: fundraising, cultivating outside constituencies, dreaming up new names for declining fortunes (this Partnership or that Compact), and remaking the “brands” of their campuses.

– Prof. Roland Greene, “The Silence of the Presidents,” on the recent police brutality and lack of administrative response at UC Davis

“…the thought leaders on talk radio and Fox do more than shape opinion. Backed by their own wing of the book-publishing industry and supported by think tanks that increasingly function as public-relations agencies, conservatives have built a whole alternative knowledge system, with its own facts, its own history, its own laws of economics. Outside this alternative reality, the United States is a country dominated by a strong Christian religiosity. Within it, Christians are a persecuted minority. Outside the system, President Obama—whatever his policy ­errors—is a figure of imposing intellect and dignity. Within the system, he’s a pitiful nothing, unable to speak without a teleprompter, an affirmative-action ­phony doomed to inevitable defeat. Outside the system, social scientists worry that the U.S. is hardening into one of the most rigid class societies in the Western world, in which the children of the poor have less chance of escape than in France, Germany, or even England. Inside the system, the U.S. remains (to borrow the words of Senator Marco Rubio) “the only place in the world where it doesn’t matter who your parents were or where you came from.”

– David Frum, “When did the GOP Lose Touch with Reality?”

Recently, in trying to get up-to-date on Amy Adams in preparation for the new Muppets film, I watched ENCHANTED, which I’d never seen before. If you’ve been living under the same rock I’ve been living under, it’s about a cartoon character (Adams) sent to the “real” world by an evil witch. It’s a delightful movie, and she’s the best part of it. Here’s Adams singing “That’s How You Know,” with a flash mob of New Yorkers:

If this sounds a bit musically…familiar…well, it’s Alan Menken, ripping off his old work from TLM: the stylistic quotations of that main hook are pretty directly stolen from UNDER THE SEA and KISS THE GIRL’s use of calypso and reggae. It’s still fun, but it’s old territory for Menken. And if the lyrics sound a bit…sub-par…that is, of course, because Howard Ashman, the brilliant Baltimorean lyricist of LITTLE SHOP, TLM and BEAUTY AND THE BEAST is still dead. I wish I’d known about this song when I was still teaching the musical theatre course–it’s a great example of the impact that Ashman’s death had on musical lyrics in film.

I don’t want to be too bad of a sport about what is a really enjoyable film, and a great funny musical number. The dancing and the silliness, as well as the lampooning of cartoon conventions, make up for a lot. But just as with Dr. Horrible, an otherwise perfectly executed number is marred by the lyrics not being as light-footed as they could be.

You can peruse the lyrics and see how horrible they are, if you want to ruin the song for yourself. There are a couple of tell-tale warning signs early on, like the use of “really, really, truly” to fill out the line. But this is the stanza that I would have used to make the point, in the classroom:

Because he’ll wear your favorite color
Just so he can match your eyes
Rent a private picnic
By the fires glow-oohh!

This was the faceplant moment for me. Insert your own snide remark. “Rent” a private picnic? Really? Really?

Between the move from 2D to 3D, Ashman’s death, and the shift from studios populated by theater artists to studios populated by technological/computer graphic innovators, the screen cartoon musical hasn’t been the same since the early 90s. Which means that a generation of children grow up on cartoons without original music–the best there is to offer them is a Shrek-esque jukebox musical. Which means, of course, that the chorus–the living chorus–loses one of its petri dishes for growth.

Thank goodness for SOUTH PARK, for Flight of the Conchords (collaborating on the Muppet movie, which makes me optimistic about the lyrics and the songs) and for the more adult realms of comedy and cartoons that still incorporate musical humor and choruses. There’s the SNL Narnia rap, right? Whenever someone *does* write good lyrics, those lyrics become popular. There is hope. Surely Brian Boitano wouldn’t give up hope.

(I’m willing to overlook the “for true” in this song because of the versatility of the rest of it.)

I am, of course, hoping that this reboot of the Muppets is also a reboot of well-written original musical theatre for children on film and on TV–with cartoons, with puppets, with whatever it takes–and that the popularity of musical theatre for children becomes such that even the 3D animated films are motivated to incorporate original songs. That would be the best possible situation.

Let’s finish this particular tirade with the Dracula musical from FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL–with lyrics that sound as natural as casual speech. And with puppets. “It’s getting kind of hard to believe / things are going to get better.” That “kind of,” which fills out the line but also adds to the character, is a gesture of a good writer: as opposed to that “really, really, truly” wheel-spinning sludge from ENCHANTED.

Looking forward to the Muppets movie, and to the songs!

a project that can be undertaken so I can work with the designers in Los Angeles whom I miss.

Some kind of micro-film–actually, maybe calling it Microfilm isn’t a bad idea–something very, very short, where I can make use of their talents without driving any of them crazy or asking more of them than is fair to ask.

The thing that was and is so successful about ||8ve is the low time commitment. What can I do–what can *they* do–that will only take them an hour and a half, one weekend day, once a month? I can imagine that if I was there I could take them to lunch and we could brainstorm something, but it’s not possible from here. In fact, it hasn’t been possible for five years.

Something.

Police used batons to try to push the students apart. Those they could separate, they arrested, kneeling on their bodies and pushing their heads into the ground. Those they could not separate, they pepper-sprayed directly in the face, holding these students as they did so. When students covered their eyes with their clothing, police forced open their mouths and pepper-sprayed down their throats. Several of these students were hospitalized. Others are seriously injured. One of them, forty-five minutes after being pepper-sprayed down his throat, was still coughing up blood.
[…]
I am writing to tell you in no uncertain terms that there must be space for protest on our campus. There must be space for political dissent on our campus. There must be space for civil disobedience on our campus. There must be space for students to assert their right to decide on the form of their protest, their dissent, and their civil disobedience—including the simple act of setting up tents in solidarity with other students who have done so. There must be space for protest and dissent, especially, when the object of protest and dissent is police brutality itself. You may not order police to forcefully disperse student protesters peacefully protesting police brutality. You may not do so. It is not an option available to you as the Chancellor of a UC campus. That is why I am calling for your immediate resignation.

– Prof. Nathan Brown’s letter to Chancellor Katehi about police brutality on campus

yes: that was a drastic redesign.
yes: there is now a static front page.
yes: and I’ve finally started adding content to the “the chorus” section, and a table of contents, which makes me hopeful that I will put in documentation of all the old projects, like ellie harrison has on her site
yes: it is now 4 AM.
yes: I should put my teaching portfolio up here too.
yes: my parents and Z&P are visiting every museum in San Jose at this moment
yes: still in Poland
yes: at one point I was trying to do something more complicated with CSS and failed

If there is no method of work that we can rely on, maybe at least we can encourage in ourselves a temperament that is not easily satisfied. Sometime when we are discouraged with our own work, we may notice that even the great poems, the sources and the standards, seem inadequate: “Ode to a Nightingale” feels too limited in scope, “Out of the Cradle” too sloppy, “To His Coy Mistress” too neat, and “Among Schoolchildren” padded. . . .

Maybe ambition is appropriately unattainable when we acknowledge: No poem is so great as we demand that poetry be.

– Donald Hall, “Poetry and Ambition.” He says many things with which I do not agree, including some standard MFA-disparaging remarks, but it’s an interesting essay and if I was still teaching creative writing I would assign it.

Let’s change the subject. One novelist’s advice for when you feel confused, while writing:

– Jessica Blau, author of The Summer of Naked Swim Parties and Drinking Closer to Home, as part of the Writer’s Digest “7 Things I’ve Learned So Far” series.

I’m not going to keep ranting about how much I hated a certain movie (see previous post): but I will say that the review of DCtH I’ve linked to, in the Nervous Breakdown, does make this astute observation: “There are no vampires in this novel, no portals to other worlds, or crimes to be solved, nothing to prop up the narrative except truth, and emotion, and love.”

Posting has been light, due to extreme theatregoing. Over the past few days, I saw NOSFERATU at Teatr Narodowy three times in one weekend (I’ve never done this before for a show I wasn’t working on–very, very interesting experience, still processing it…), NASZA KLASA at Teatr Na Woli, and CK’s MAGNIFICAT at the Instytut Teatralny, as well as a couple of films in the Jewish Film Festival.

Articles, articles, articles, articles, articles in progress. If this continues, I, like Keats in Byron’s posthumous slur, will be “snuffed out by an article.” Just kidding. I’m really enjoying having the chance to do so much writing, and to use some of the rusty old wrenches from the critical toolbox that I haven’t really used since the good old days at LAist.

Wednesday, I spent some time at the Nowy Wspanialy Swiat café talking with a translator for a number of Polish plays–it was really interesting to have the chance to discuss his work with him. He’s also involved in projects such as supertitles and translating at festivals. One cool thing I got to do for him that I can share was make a list of war poems in English that he could scour through for a one-line analog to a famous line from a Polish war poem (Mickiewicz’s “Reduta Ordona”–the line, in English is something roughly like “We were not given the order to fire.”) Poetry and theater: “it’s complicated,” since before 2400 BCE.

The Russian Film Festival started yesterday, just in case you thought there wasn’t enough going on around here.

I am saddened by the OWS encampments being torn down, in NYC and elsewhere. I know this isn’t going to be the end of the movement, or of the issues it raised, but I do hope it’s not really the end of the physical manifestation of the protesters’ camps. I’ve read so many interesting articles over the past few weeks about what they’re doing, and the human interactions occurring at these camps, and it just seems like a remarkably positive-intentioned movement, to sound like a Californian (which I am). I’m proud of everyone I know who’s been involved with OWS in all the various cities.

I am happy that the new Muppet movie is coming out soon, although it won’t come out so soon here–but that feels like a remarkably trivial observation, given the previous one. I would also be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about today being the premiere of Zmierzch: Przed świtem; Część 1, if only for the many opportunities to try to pronounce “Zmierzch.”

My inbox bristles with political emails. “Dara–are you on the right side of history?” “Dara–can we count on you?” OWS in danger. Internet freedom under attack in Congress. My Gmail is turning into the bearer of bad news. And in my own small wheelhouse / cabin / dugout / metaphor, Arena Stage has to pull a production, on the heels of the Funny Girl revival being canceled, on the heels of one of my favorite theaters in the world (TJT) closing its doors. Oh, ArtsJournal, bring me some good news. Please.

It’s a good time to be in Europe, but my thoughts are with my friends at home who are still trying–to keep their jobs, to make art, to protect our civil liberties, including the right to assembly, and slow the further collapse of the economy.