Theater & Performance: Paul Rapp is reviewing John Waters at the Egg; John Rodat is reviewing Ira Glass at the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall; James Yeara is reviewing This Wonderful Life at Capital Repertory Theatre.
Movies: Ann Morrow's reviewing Anna Karenina; Laura Leon's reviewing Killing Them Softly.
I am reviewing Carrie Underwood at the TUC, but I'm not sure when that's running.
The kind folks at Nippertown took note of the "interesting war of words" in the comments of David King's devastating review of the Marilyn Manson/Rob Zombie show at the GFCC, which also happens to be one of our most-clicked-on reviews of 2012.
Also: We are in preliminary discussions for Local Heroes 2012. If you know a hero, please submit your idea in the comments.
LET THE GLOATING begin. Go ahead. I deserve it. I fucked up, and I have no excuse. Actually, I do, and this gives me a chance to whine, which is always enjoyable.
Going over those "Best Of" listings is a soul-sapping activity. Trying to write something new year after year becomes ever more challenging, and of course there's the matter of making sure the entity we're celebrating still exists. We've been caught before, and you tend to be merciless. As you should be.
As I confirmed the vitals of eatery after eatery, making me hungrier and hungrier, I began to fantasize about the meal I'd award myself once my listings were finished and filed. And I'm not ashamed to say that the reward involved pizza. Thus it was with a big, gloppy pie in mind that I wrote my Best Pizza listings, and, with a vision of the Fireside Pizzeria's 12-cut dancing in my head, I wrote the restaurant's listing WITHOUT CHECKING IN WITH THE PLACE.
Why should I? It's been there as long as I've lived in this area -- over thirty years. Places like that -- places in which I have both a culinary and a sentimental investment -- don't die.
Yes they do. This one did. Quite a while ago, in fact.
To make it worse, after I finished my writing task, I didn't go out for pizza. It was too late at night. I went to bed. And so I found out the Fireside's fate the way most bad news is delivered these days: through a snarky e-mail. Keep 'em coming, friends.
BEING FRANKIE VALLI is a full-time job. Ask actor Brad Weinstock. “It’s unlike anything that I’ve ever done theatrically,” he says. “It’s definitely the most challenging.” Weinstock is one of the core quartet in “Jersey Boys,” now playing at Proctors in Schenectady. Once every performance day he progresses from warbling “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love,” to powerhouse renditions of “Sherry” and “Walk Like a Man” and the many other Four Seasons hits, in a dead-on version of Valli’s signature style.
In order to maintain it, he explains, “I’ve become a very regimented person. I drink a gallon of water a day, I sleep with a humidifier, I steam with a personal inhaler, I have lots of electrolytes. And I sleep probably ten hours a night, because if you lose sleep or are dehydrated, the falsetto is the first thing to go.”
Weinstock and his fellow cast-members were fêted yesterday at the annual spring get-together of the Proctors Guild. Actors who spend time on the road will tell you that a touring company becomes a family; here the dynamic was obvious.
There’s also a physical quality about an actor that goes beyond the merely structural. Actors are comfortable as attention-centers, and stand or sit with an unselfconscious ease that nevertheless says, “I know you’re looking at me.” Even when off script, they tend to express themselves well. It’s very easy to believe, within a few minutes of falling into conversation with an actor, that you’ve become this person’s best friend – and you walk away from the encounter unaware that you did little of the talking.
Essentially, Jamie Dimon handed Birmingham, Alabama a Chase credit card and then bribed its local officials to run up a gigantic balance, leaving future residents and those residents’ children with the bill. As a result, the citizens of Jefferson County will now be making payments to Chase until the end of time.