Christmas Is Coming, The Goose is Getting Fat

Won't you please put a penny in the Old Man's Hat, If you haven't got a penny, a half a penny will do. If you haven't gotta a half a penny, God Bless You!"
Review of Charles Dickens "A Christmas Carol" - By J.K. Cosmos

The chorus of Christmas Carols and the themed dress of the Actors began before the audience even got to their seats. Bravo! The tone is set. The historically correct costumes, and then arriving in the theater, seeing the stage so well set was the beginning of a Christmas treat!

Dicken's play is a classic and, for many, a tradition. The production of this well-loved play is a challenge; the challenge being keeping it fresh and new. Keeping it interesting! This production conveyed the plot, engaged the audience and was entertaining, to boot!

The old Dodger, yes, Scrooge, had a great presence and Paul D. Farwell, who played the lead, did so without over-shadowing the others. His rendition of Scrooge was on the money. Farwell had the modulated voice, the accent and the energy to bring the audience in; to keep us there with him through the mundane at his office and the magical with the spirits. He was fun and really gave a great performance.

Edward M. Barker, playing Bob Cratchit, also enlightened the audience. How so? Well, his presentation showed love of family, his wife and others in the community in a most endearing and sweet way. His interpretation of Cratchit was one of a man with some sense of self; his identity was less pathetic than is sometimes portrayed in films. I thought his rendition of Cratchit was very effective.

The Actors in supporting roles, belted it out. The dialogue was true to the plot, to the story-line and to the essence of what makes Dickens a master dramatist.

Kudos to the Director, Bridget Kathleen O'Leary! Her vision and tweaking of this classic made it a not to miss play for the season.

Not to miss a beat, the setting and costumes of the spirits and the magic is just phenomenal! Congrats to Peter Colao and Christine Alger; Scenic & Costume design respectively. This Team effort brings an exceptional play to the New Rep!

Bravo & A Standing 'O'.

Poet Laureates/Bly & Hall

Listening to the banter between friends. Friends that happen to be the very best of the US; friends & a conversation between Robert Bly & Donald Hall. A privilege and a blessing. They both graciously read some poems and I listened. The words and sentiments easy and true. When will my writing mirror the energy of these creative people?

In line and waiting on them, the briefest of moments to have a conversation. Hall generous with his comments; well done.

Bly - a gaze penetrating and a knowing something/something.

He asked: "What are you writing?"

I thought, 'Did I tell him that I'm writing?'

Bly, "I wish you well on your writing."

Thanking him I kept my 'good eye' on him as I moved away, making room for the next fan of his poetry, his life's work. Moving away, I kept a good eye on him and to my surprise, he kept a good eye on me.

Checking the signature in the book of poems, he had personalized it with my name. "Did I tell him my name?" I knew that I had not. I didn't provide him with any personal information. None at all. I know that, having been in line for Donald Hall - first & told that only autographs of the book were being given, today.

I am a very good student, to a fault. Literal. Too literal.

Bly took my name off of my name tag on a string around my neck. Actually, looked at a name tag to sign my name and his on the book of poetry.

Yes, today I question the 'Why?'
Yes, today I answer with the biggest of reasons. I am a writer.
I am meant to write.

Another writer recognized me today.
Another writer affirmed my mission, my life's work.

The writer giving the affirmation is a Poet Laureate & his name is Robert Bly.

Mamet 'Speed-the-Plow"

Mad Men vibe and fast paced talk compels the audience and presents a 'Must See' production at the New Rep. With Mamet, there are expectations and they were met and then some in Watertown.

Robert Pemberton as "Bobby" with his exceptional accent not to be under-estimated when most of Hollywood only pretends to be from a particular venue. Pemberton convinces us and he readily draws us in to his point of view. Pemberton shines in this role.

The play between him and Gabriel Kuttner exceptional. Kuttner is believable as Charlie Fox and as 'everyman' who is loyal and 'true blue' to the powers that run the show and the 'friends' that tantalize and promise a leg up.

Kuttner reflects that man and humanity's attempts to move ahead at any cost in his role as Fox. He understands the game plan and reminds the audience and more crucially his pal, Bobby Gould.

To take the top off, the play has a fight scene. The sudden burst of violence and blood presents another level of Mamet at his best. Director Robert Walsh deserves kudos for the entire production. Walsh transitions the scenes and directs the actors to lead us through the phases of it all; no small feat with this play.

The pivotal conflict is dramatized effectively; both sweetly and purposefully by Aimee Doherty. Her role as Karen is the rub and she moves as an ingenue and a femme fatale. Who knew Karen (Doherty) would have this effect? Doherty plays her hand close and the audience appreciates how she develops this part.

The Actors, the action, the play - exceptional!

Reviewed - J.K. Cosmos - New Rep Reviewer

2.5 Minute Ride - Review for New Rep Theater

Lisa Kron has a hit featuring Adrianne Krstansky. Kron keeps the pace and engages the audience without any dead space. The initial scene may have been perplexing, as Lisa, played by Krstansky, takes us on the journey and the ride, uses a pointer on a blank screen. The sound of the clicking slides, the red dot on a blank screen, all very effective. It gave the audience pause and allowed them to fill in the blank space, the white space, to create the scene based on the language of the production, not the visuals. It reminded me of art appreciation classes as an undergrad and the use of the white space, rather than color on the screen lead to images and use of my imagination. Nicely done.

Krstansky gave an energetic and well-paced performance with humor and some ironic twists. She evoked emotion and illicited a recognition in us and an empathy that crosses ethnic lines. The traditions and cultural descriptions in the dialogue transcend the Jewish experience, as many peoples identify with much of the play.

The acting was up close and personal; there is no other way to say it. The outlook despite tragedies in life, remains optimistic and positive. Who knew? I didn't expect the joi de vivre that came across despite some horrific recollections in the piece.

One short story of a German boy, who chose not to join the war and not to join the Nazi Party and his courage to be his own person resonated for me and was one of the thesis components of the play. Lisa's father feeling lucky to be Jewish, so as not to have to make a decision to choose a Nazi uniform or to decline; very poignant.

Krstansky stayed in character and moved us through the events of her life; of Lisa's life. It was fabulous!

Connections, cycles..

Started out talking about social justice with 25 plus students at 7 AM in the city & it was enlightening...issues about abuse of power, fairness and value of education, of particular jobs..this next generation gives pause in their ideals, and their aspirations to make things better...and, yes, it does sound familiar. The familiarity of 1968, 1969 and the days of lazy haze and very grandiose ideas.

Reading, Eric Erikson, Gandhi..non-violent resistence, social justice again...the theme, the thread of an idea all day..

Readings by Rebecca Brown and the nostalgia, the energy of the day, the lectures, the readings and the discussion with very young students resonates in Rebecca's work, her words and her pull on dreams gone by....poignant!

Exhausting, bone-weary but very glad for the day, the discussions, the edgy-ness of the next generation, the ones that I am privileged to exchange ideas with and share my perceptions. Perpceptions of my own youth, and their youth and the connections and cycles....they are all good.

Mr Roberts - Times Gone By

My expectations were not high for this WW II production, until noticing the actors in the play, actors who would surely carry the day and the move the production forward with energy & virve.
The play did not energize. The 'set up' was too long and dragged. The play was so dated, which can be a strength for any creative piece. For this one, it was simplistic and simple-minded, much like the plot. The plot didn't move along nor did it engage the audience. There was no character development. Giving the benefit of the doubt, I cannot recommend this one and am trying to find a redeeming quality.
The setting did reflect the place, however, the actors footsteps echoed and was so loud as to drown out dialogue.
Owen Doyle is one of the actors I had hoped would pull this one up & succeed. Owen is a gifted performer and his work in Lapin Agile at the New Rep was extraordinary. Similar kudos to Ross MacDonald, a most phenomenal performance in Exits & Entrances & together with Curt Klump, exellent work in The Lieutenenat of Insishmore.
The lead for Mr. Roberts, Thomas Piper, has solid credentials and this reviewer has not seen prior to this role. I look forward to seeing the cast in other local performances. Unfortunately, they were unable to pull this one off successfully.

US Senator Ted Kennedy - 1932 - 2009

Ted Kennedy, an inspiration & visionary, a person of means, who viewed public service as meaningful for the betterment of society. Peace

Community..

of Writers, people of like-mind. A gift and a chance to re-energize. Having just been a part of such a community, my writing and commitment to get the words on paper has been re-booted, again.

What does writing and sharing thoughts mean to me. Everything! Having left a lucrative law practice to follow my desire to write and to have ideas out in the world, this is an attempt to do it well. This is the push to move it forward. This is the opportunity to share the experiences, to give the 'word' to others, to move it forward...nice & easy or with expletives. Either way, I'm here & you're here. Let's commit to work toward the better and to be enlightened about what that is. Let's find joy and love!
Peace...love & light! jk

Epitaphio

April 17, 1971 – Epitaphio – Cambridge, Massachusetts
Deep blue robes with dark folds,
Dark black hair—curling round his neck.
Penetrating blue eyes—absorbing all,
Alone—the only person in focus
As all the masses fade out in a blur.
The heavy Christ-tomb on his broad back,
His hunched shoulders bearing His burden,
The others hardly grasping on, as
He leads them forward-progressing onward.
The ceremony, gold-robes-candles glowing-
Ornaments – incense-jewels-chanting-
trivia!

Stepping off the curb, with nine young girls
Nearby-sirens sounded-
Trucks screeched by- as I held on to
Three crying, frightened children-
Girls in white-angels-pure and mild and lonely
Crying children….
My candle out- and up to look and see with
Tears in my eyes his shoulders
Bearing the entire tomb of Christ, as
It tipped- and surely Christ held on
With one gentle nudge – as the masses
Swelled and children cried and the
Engines roared—unnoticed he balanced
The tomb – directed the youth and
The ceremonies continued with the chanting
Of the dignitaries; the bishop and priest –
How everyone repeats them –
He does – I do, too, for Him.

Spring...is Coming! 2009

The term spins by and the writing and reading has a beat of its own. Students' concerns and worries over grades, exit exams and reviews, all signs of spring. The routine of winter wonder and snow, ice and the crisp air that has a feel of cold, of coldness and of stark grey-ness...melting.

The assist at theater productions and concerts, all fun and easy-breezy. The connections with old friends and new, bring a renewed sense of purpose, if only to lighten the load of another.

Waiting on the buds on the trees and the flowers peeking through the sod and greening and colouring the small garden near the kitchen window.

Renewal and joy! Spring and Easter Season...the Aha moments!

The Bride (Fiction Piece) Ongoing Project

Fear, she wouldn’t have imagined the coldness and immobility of being fearful. How could the love turn around so quickly with such violence?
The courting and romancing ended at the wedding ceremony. Her husband was rude and curt at the reception with her and the guests. His only focus was getting high with a few of his friends. Her groom was handsome, blonde, blue eyes and tall. He was so perfect on paper.
Moving around the ballroom the bride greets their guests, alone. She is alone, again despite the marrying part. She is holding up the beautiful satin train of her gown, and stepping lightly in the most elegant heeled close-toed shoes, the step with the shoes feeling like royalty and changing the walk to more of a glide. How lovely the movement in the gown and with the shoes.
The music played a soft jazz selection and the wait-staff moved through the ballroom, giving a tone of a lifetime movie feature. And yet, she knew in her heart that the trimmings and the planning for the wedding wouldn’t make it all wonderful. The Groom remains a nasty person, someone without dignity and certainly someone without any respect or love for her.
He prefers to do lines of coke with his buddies in the adjoining room, rather than be by her side and dance and talk with family. He has made it clear that he has distain for the family that has come to share in their wedding day.
The childish dreams of her wedding day crushed in a moment. His spin remained that the drugs and the coke up his nose so much more important than making a commitment to each other. So, why would she continue with this farce? And, why would she cover up his bad behavior at the wedding and reception with their friends. She continues to think that she can make it better. She knows that she can help him be the best person possible. She is so naïve and she continues to believe that she can get him into recovery and back to the loving person that he seems to want to be.
The reality, as she now knows, is that a person delving into the drug scene is not going to work to get away from the ‘high’. The person drugging and partying is committed to a lifestyle and not going to leave it behind to be ‘straight’.
She dreams of an alternative life, one of love and joy! She realizes that her reality is one of fear, drugs, waste and anger. Her husband works when it suits him for money for his habit, not for them. She work to pay the bills and to keep the household going. She resents him.
The resentment turns to pure hatred. She wishes that he would not come home. She wishes so hard that he will stay away from her. He is a lousy, selfish lover. He is a childish husband. He is not a friend. In fact, as the days wear on, he is her enemy. He is pure evil.
Where does he go, when he leaves home in the morning and doesn’t return until the early hours of the following day? Who are the people that hang on his every word and cater to his whims?
Her wandering thoughts meander to other women’s marriages. How many young women are covering up for the bad behavior of their handsome and childish husbands? She keeps wondering about other women’s lives and she thinks that perhaps there are many that suffer. Suffering in silence was not part of the bargain. She would never imagine becoming ‘that suffering, victimized woman’.
One night she asks him something about what he’d like for dinner. He lashes out at her and throws a glass piggy bank, her childhood trinket, across the room directly at her. It misses her head. She flinches and it hits the wall, breaking.
Her childhood bank is shattered against the wall and onto the kitchen floor. Perhaps, she should have stayed at work. Perhaps, she should stay away to avoid these confrontations. She begins to cry and then louder. She must leave the room, so not to be in his way. She leaves the room, but not the house to stay out of danger’s way. Her husband is the danger. Why didn’t she know?
That night, as she lay in bed, her husband comes into the room and turns on the overhead light. Then he turns on the bed lamp and finds his pistol in his night stand. He loads the pistol and tells her to get up out of the bed. He says that he wants to show her how to use the gun so that she can defend herself, just in case someone breaks into the house. He takes the gun and pulls her out of the bed. She refuses and tells him that they can look at the gun tomorrow. He insists. He is holding her under her arms and lifts her up and out of the bed. She is out of the bed and standing in a swoop of his effort to get her out of that bed.
She is standing next to the bed in her nightgown, naked underneath and vulnerable. She is so vulnerable that it feels like a dream. Her husband pulls her around so that her back is against his chest. He holds that gun in one hand over her shoulder. He is showing her the open gun so that she can see the bullets, up close.
She thinks that she should be shaking, but she is resigned to having a crazy, drug-ridden husband. He keeps saying that he just wants to show her. He presses her fingers around the butt of the gun. Actually, it’s a pistol, he corrects her misinformation. He tells her in her ear, slow and hushed that he found the gun and rubbed off the numbers of this pistol, just for her. He tells her that it’s called a ‘throw-away’. It is an untraceable weapon.
A ‘throw-away’ pistol in their bedroom and he has her around the neck. He has her in a position where only her fingerprints are on the gun. If she is shot, he will tell the police that she shot herself, that she was depressed. This is not far from the truth, a half-truth, as she is depressed having married this horrid man. He has manipulated the facts, but then again, the truth may be that he has manipulated her. She is the successful lawyer with the beautiful home, and he is not. She is the person with the skill and the reputation in the profession, and he has nothing. He is a joke and not skilled at all.
She does not have the will to live, let alone to love anyone. She is not able to think clearly and she has no reason to get through her day. She is lonely and alone. She is sick and bone-weary and tired of living.
Fear, the fear becomes a reality later in the marriage. The fear and aloneness is something that builds up over time and once in her life settles in so that she feels that she can never survive. If she survives, will she ever feel joy? If she survives, will she wish that she didn’t and wish that the gun did go off that night? Will she be the one that is resilient and tells this story? Or, will she be the one that ends up a murder victim? Or, will she be the one that is the perpetrator of a murder?

Performing Arts & Nostalgia..

December 31, 2008
Beyonce singing 'The Way We Were' for Barbara Streisand at the NY Performing Arts Center had me sobbing so hard that I could barely hear the song. Close up on 'Barbara' and not a tear! How stoic of her to listen and have her neutral face on national television -- a face without emotion.

For me, sitting on my quilt, the pillows propped on the bed--I gasped and cried aloud, without shame.

Hubbell-that beautiful Robert Redford, gently leading his lady to a life of ease, of love. She wouldn't have any of it and moved forward for social justice and for her own independence, self-reliance and meaningful support of those unable to speak for themselves. The way we were...I couldn't breath..I recognized Barbara's character and the pathos of the her choices, love and life--changing society and helping others.

So crying hard for the film and for myself, I tried to hear the words as Beyonce belted it out with renewed vigor and youth. Youth and idealism and years passing life to what significant goal. Study and discussions, talking and listening to what end? A lifetime of ideals and hopes to make a change for naught?

My teary eyes filled up again, as I realized the film and my life choices overlapped, parallel story-lines.

Robert Frost's poetry on choices and the path not taken, making all the difference. What difference? And to whom? Does the effort and painful choices really matter? Would a position as a CPA be just as meaningful, helping clients with taxes?

Did my parents and professors lead me to a path of ever-circular challenges and never-ending struggles? They did and I cannot decide whether to thank or curse them.