Monthly Archives: August 2013

Aug 19 2013
Leave a comment
Other

Montreal Drag Show

My sister and I just returned from a trip to Montreal. It is a wonderful city, and we had a great time. Like I said on twitter, “The People, the Places, the Things… I love all of the nouns in Montreal. Even the ones I can’t read.” The official language of Montreal is French, but most of the people we encountered were bilingual, making for much easier communication. I greeted in French whenever possible because it felt proper, but always tried to throw in a warning “Hi” if I knew there would be a more extended exchange. And overall, the people were lovely. In Montreal, French speakers looked on us with pity, unlike my visit to Paris, where the feeling much more closely resembled disdain.

Thanks to the language gap though, we were in for a treat on Thursday evening. Having arrived earlier that afternoon, my sister and I decided to wander down to the Gay Village,  the area of town where Montreal Pride was taking place. You see, when we chose the dates of our trip, we had no clue that Montreal Pride was happening, but since we were there, no question we were checking it out. As luck would have it, that night’s presentation was a drag show featuring twenty Montreal Queens. Done. Nowhere else I’d rather be. We arrived at the park a little early to ensure a good view, and as the DJ, a queen decked out in varying shades of neon, prepped the crowd with fun gay tunes from ABBA, the Spice Girls and so forth, we waited for eight o’clock, when the show began.

It was entirely in French. The majority of the songs were in English, with many familiar campy and sexy tunes, but Dream, the evening’s emcee, just spoke French. This may seem impenetrable to non-French speakers, myself included, but it really only added to the whimsy and gaiety of the entertainment. If anyone needs advice on how to Camp up a drag show, put French in their mouths. Automatic perfection.  Dream was a hilarious, campy queen ready with any sharp quip needed. Or at least that’s what it sounded like. I had to take many of my laughing cues from the crowd at first, but the emcee was such a great performer that before long I found myself guffawing at her physical comedy and top-notch timing, even without understanding a word.

Now, a drag show generally consists of two types of queen: the campy, and the sexy. Since the show had no shortage of either, it provided tons of entertainment and plenty of memories. I’ll just run through a few of the best and worst to give you a taste.

The first camp bit was a little disappointing, a medley of Hairspray songs. The queen attempting to play the musical’s lead, Tracy, didn’t fit the bill at all. A major part of the musical is that Tracy is a big girl, and this queen was nowhere near the right size. But I guess someone told her that loose-fitting clothing would disguise that fact, although it didn’t disguise her lack of skill. Once I realized her medley consisted of songs from the movie starring John Travolta, rather than the musical recording, I rolled my eyes, wrote her off and waited for the next girl.

The two camp performances that really shined were “Thelma & Louise,” and “The Little Mermaid.” Thelma & Louise had the front of a car (made of cardboard) brought on stage and got ready for the end-all of road trips, with Louise dressed perfectly in her mom jeans and a scarf. Their medley of three empowering female songs fit perfectly into the narrative they acted out on stage, killing Thelma’s man and fleeing the law, all the way though driving off the cliff together. It was probably my favorite one of the night.

My sisters favorite turned out to be the Little Mermaid, probably since she adored that character during childhood. While the queen sang about wanting “to be where the people are,” she had a slight costume issue and struggled to hold up her fins, but that was overshadowed by the glitter shot into the air from behind her, emulating the famous movie scene of her singing perched on a rock as waves crash behind her. And of course, no tribute to the Disney movie is complete without the appearance of the drag queen of villains, Ursula. The medley ended in a weird place, with Ursula stealing Ariel’s voice, but after some thought I realized there isn’t a particular song that resolves the story in the movie. Plus, the final moment felt like vindication for the drag queen, re-appropriating the power of the young female voice for herself to mock and deride the world she challenges with her defiance of normalcy. Or I’m just reading too much into it.

The sexy queens were a mixed bag, with Beyonce and Nicki Minaj songs lip-synced by white girls, and one or two that would have fit better in an Adam Lambert look-alike competition. Many times, the girls seemed more interested in being pretty than selling the song; shaking their hips and tearing off clothing were their main skills. This is one of my issues with the sexy type of drag queen, but I won’t delve too deeply into my personal feelings on drag. At the end, Dream even threw on a skin-tight outfit and had a sexy song. She was the best of the queens, hosting the entire event, performing a racy pop hit, and tackling the finale as a solo. The finale was wonderful, a beautiful French ballad that Dream sold completely with her superbly expressive acting and sultry movement. As the other drag queens filled the stage armed with spray bottles, they slowly began to soak her until she was dripping wet and the stage resembled a giant puddle. This marathon performance was impressive inside and out, and I didn’t even mention the handful of backup dancers that populated many song backgrounds and must have been more exhausted than anyone else involved.

An epic success, and the perfect beginning to a weekend in Montreal, we certainly knew how to take the first step into a new city. In heels.

 

Aug 13 2013
Leave a comment
Literature

The God of Small Things

The God of Small Things is the first novel by Arundhati Roy. Published in 1997 and winner of the Booker Prize, this beautiful book is a melancholy, endearing portrait of a shattered family, and the slow recounting of their destruction. A wonderful, painful read, the haunting tragedy hanging over the story sets the tone as Roy’s abundant language fills the landscape, providing the reader with both a sweeping view of India, and a detailed illustration of this family.

The story centers around the twins Rahel & Estha, and the death of their cousin, Sophie Mol. A sweet girl, but never a full character, “…far more quickly than ever should have happened, Sophie Mol became a Memory, while The Loss of Sophie Mol grew robust and alive.” The opening scene is of the adult Rahel walking through her hometown. Here where disaster struck, where her soul was rent in two, where her life fell apart. Where she was separated from Estha, who was sent away directly after tragedy, a separation from which neither has recovered. We then move shift back to their birth, and then the funeral they all must attend. The novel’s flits between past and present allow great flexibility, building the environment of both times so the reader understands the state of these characters, both then and now.

Told in a series of snapshots that capture the personal quirks and flaws of her cast, Roy’s use of a non-linear narrative better entrenches the reader in the heart of her world, riven with tragedy. From the beginning, she shares the pasts of characters, even the ancillary, not to further the action, but to induce a mindset of loss as a fact of life, something expected, unavoidable. And while this tactic is easily perceived by the reader, Roy’s skill resides in the creation of rules unspoken, but ever-present.

Often left unmentioned, the “love laws,” as Roy terms them, are such rules. In India, the love laws pervaded society. These laws determined “who should be loved, and how. And how much.” In a broad, cultural sense, these can be interpreted through the caste system, which determined the social class of an individual. In The God of Small Things, Roy takes the concept and runs with it. Much of the book can be seen as a riff on these laws, even if hardly mentioned in the text. To Roy, the love laws seem to be an aspect of India’s essence, and in this book they appear in much the same way. So ingrained are these laws that for the adult characters, no mention is needed. Yet the children are left in the dark. The adults act as if these love laws are inherent, ignoring the fact that their discrimination is learned, not primal.  It is only as the reader moves through the book that this social construct is perceived, a construct so necessary the narrative would crumble without it. The magic of this work exists in Roy’s ability to lay this truth bare without subverting the small, essential joys sprinkled in the pages.

The ability to find joy and survive tragedy is in the realm of the Small God. A mercurial being, the God stands at the edge of the page, but his presence is always felt. Roy’s first explanation lies behind Rahel’s adult eyes, wrongly perceived as “between difference and despair.” In India, the Small God offers respite through both tragedy and joy. In comparison to the epic turmoil surrounding the country, personal despair is inconsequential. The Small God is happiness in the face of small tragedy, and small joy. “In the country that [Rahel] came from, poised forever between the terror of war and the horror of peace, Worse Things kept happening. So the Small God laughed a hollow laugh, and skipped away cheerfully…the source of his brittle elation was the relative smallness of his misfortune.”

After finishing the last word, I had the strong urge to return to page one, reliving the story in a more informed fashion, but since I read those last words on the way to my book club meeting, I haven’t yet gotten the chance. As per usual, I picked up the book three days before the meeting, a time when the countdown is measured better in hours than in days. But the last few books hadn’t been this literary. Or I’d listened to the audio book. But this one won an award, is considered literature; the back cover compares her to Faulkner. I felt the sinking obligation. Initially skeptical that I’d finish in time, and with a considerable lack of knowledge about India, I started reading. As the narrative voice took hold, I was captivated. Whisked away to a beautiful India. In retrospect, I think the short length of my reading period was an advantage. Every event was fresh in my mind, no reminders were needed. I could recall the tricks of Roy’s language with ease, and her vast story overtook me like a wave, all at once. It is sad. It is beautiful. It is a Kathakali troupe, full of magic and the Great Stories, dancing “to ask pardon of the gods.”

Aug 12 2013
Leave a comment
Television

Please Like Me, Episode 1: Rhubarb & Custard

Please Like Me is a new program from Australia, written by and starring young comedian Josh Thomas. Following the life of a young man named Josh, the audience joins him as his life begins a major shift. This hilarious comedy spoke to the frightened adult inside of me as responsibility and reality continue to hit Josh head-on in the opening episode. While I don’t yet know its trajectory, I have a feeling this series will speak more clearly to my generation than many previous attempts, but maybe I’m not being enough of a cynic.

Josh is a young man about to turn twenty and living with his best friend, Tom. In one twenty-four-hour span his girlfriend breaks up with him, he spends his first night with a man, and his mother attempts suicide. Quite a few major moments in Josh’s life rush in all at once, and, while this course of events is terrifying, we’re treated to the comedic underpinnings of these serious situations thanks to a skilled writer and performer.

The opening scene contains the uncomfortable break-up, but Claire, Josh’s girlfriend, handles the situation beautifully. Claire forces them both to grow up. From their conversation, it’s apparent they’ve known each other since puberty, so part of Josh’s attachment to their relationship is comfort. Instead of confronting honest feelings, he likely finds it easier to ignore his homosexuality. Claire desires happiness for both of them, so she makes Josh to face this issue. Although protesting at first, Josh’s tacit acceptance that starts him on the path to adulthood, where he can find real happiness.

We immediately jump to an upbeat opening title sequence, watching Josh select groceries from densely packed shelves while we jam to I’ll Be Fine by Clairy Browne & the Bangin’ Rackettes. It is tough to sit still while this great song plays; at least one head bop is obligatory. If you haven’t been hooked by the show yet, this will likely do the trick.

Josh travels to Tom’s office, where we meet Josh’s love interest. Geoffrey’s introduction sets a complex relationship between the two. While he cries at his desk over his father’s recent arrest, Josh, uncomfortable with emotion, awkwardly tries to offer respite with pop rocks swiped from Tom’s desk. Somehow, Geoffrey invites himself over for dinner and eventually they fall into bed together. Or more, Geoffrey falls into bed, in just his briefs, while Josh dons full pajamas and apprehensively crawls in as well. His naivety is endearing, trying to retain his modesty while a scantily clad man lays in his bed, but also addresses the honest feeling many young people have with approaching sex for the first time. Geoffrey is straightforward and open, a welcome foil to Josh’s cluelessness about romantic male relations and emotions.

Unfortunately, the morning does not continue the upswing in positivity. His mother’s suicide attempt is revealed in a set of voicemails in reverse chronological order which skillfully building dramatic tension until we hear Josh’s mother at the other end of the phone, pleading for his help. It is heartbreaking. Josh and Tom hop in the car, where their discussion dances around the night before, and the situation they’re headed toward, but Josh’s difficulty with facing emotion is clear all the way to the hospital. Even in the sad light of his mother’s attempted suicide though, these two can still have a laugh, unable to stifle a smile at the thought of his mother, who chased painkillers with half a bottle of Baileys.

When Josh gets to the hospital, his dad (divorced from Josh’s mom) is waiting, along with Claire. The short exchange between Claire and Josh is reassuring because they joke and laugh like friends; there is no animosity between them. Josh goes back to see his mother alone, and after discussing the situation with the doctor, the only two options are to place his mother in a home, or move back in with her. While Josh mulls the decision over, his father drives him home.

Walking to his porch alone, Josh slumps into the couch they keep there, and gently sobs. He doesn’t linger long before wiping his eyes and walking inside, but this single moment alone reveals his personal turmoil and the difficulty of these new, adult responsibilities. But Geoffrey is inside, never having left, bringing a smile to Josh’s face as we learn he cooked the roommates dinner, but places a peck on Josh’s cheek as he leaves them to enjoy it alone.

After watching the first episode, I was immediately hooked. Like children are on phonics. The main character has so many traits with which I identify, it felt directly tailored to my tastes. Josh Thomas is a funny, witty artist and if this first episode is a glimpse of the skill behind this television show, we’re in for an impressive series. The script moves quickly, but has plenty of neurotic rambling from Josh, including the aging of his face, why Tom loves giraffes, and if the big and small denomination is incorrect when referring to spooning. The camerawork is fabulous, framing shots in a way that drive the story, and adds dimension to the emotions experienced on screen. Plus, the upbeat soundtrack and funky, pastel Australia setting only strengthen the world Thomas has created.

Overall, this opening episode is top notch, and I hope the future episodes continue on this stellar track. I urge you to watch it. The first episode is available on Youtube, and if you’re not getting (or can’t get) Pivot, the new channel where it is airing, you can purchase the six episodes of season one on iTunes, which I will be doing.