Gender Issues and Cedar Point

Last Friday just before lunch time, I was pondering the near future, specifically the inevitable notion that I am soon to be widowed by my husband's accelerated MBA program at Michigan State. While trying to come up with a fun, inexpensive excursion we could go on together before immersion (aka hell) week, I was struck by the obvious--Cedar Point. We haven't been to Sandusky since the debut of the Maverick, thus denying the coaster-freak sides of our personalities. Giving in to my capricious nature, my husband picked up a pair of tickets at AAA, and we were locked in.

A rainy morning prohibited the usual pre-trip burst of energy Cedar Point allows, so we didn't make it to Sandusky until around 1:00. When we pulled into the city, we were a little confused by the number of bikers, increasing as we neared our destination. The purpose for the squadrons of helmetless riders became apparent as we passed by Shifters, one of the many upscale establishments hosting "Ohio Bikers Weekend." While I was personally tempted by the "Discount Tattoos" sign, my husband shook his head at me and the prospect of fresh ink, and insisted we continue on our way.

Our day at the Point may be categorized as the norm, other than the fact that we rode all the major attractions within four hours. The issue I would like to address for today's topic came to me before we entered the park. Despite the fact that the roller-coast was not terribly busy, we parked somewhat far away. As we walked toward the gate through a third row of cars, I saw it; a teenager getting a hummer in the front seat of his car. I pressed on, doubting the split-second scene I thought I had just witnessed, but when I heard my husband's laughter behind my forward progress, I knew he had seen the same thing. Perhaps most people would have giggled at Dave's suggestion that we wait at the gate so he could slap high-fives with the kid, but having risen recently from a road-induced nap, I felt like sparring.

After Dave announced how "proud" he was of the young man I reminded Dave of all the negative karma he has created for himself regarding our someday children. With all of the sports discussions of his future brood and the crossing of fingers that his sons are built like my Serbian family, I am quite certain that we are going to have girls despite his claim of marrying into "good stock" for begetting tall sons. "What about the girl? That could be your daughter someday, will you be proud of her also?" I asked. "You're the black hole of fun," my sweetheart said to me in his usual attempt to dissuade me from continuing my rant on equality. Though I know he will love our children regardless of gender, I can tell he is very frightened by the possibility of parenting a girl. I have to imagine the reason for that is because just as quickly as most people would high-five the boy, they would call the girl a degrading name. In certain ways, girls have to live up to higher expectations than boys, and I can imagine the pressure on a parent to make sure their children grow up according to a specific set of social standards based on gender. I think it's stupid, but I understand it. I think I may damn myself if I continue on about my own parental ideals, so I'll leave that alone for now. I can't expect to sway people's opinions with my sour perspective on the standards women are expected to uphold and the judgments cast on young girls of which young boys are exempt, but I can hope to kill the fun often enough to prepare my husband for the possibility of raising contributing female members of society.

Viral Do-Re-Mi

If you haven't seen this non-hostile, musical takeover of a train station in Belgium, watch it. I challenge you not to be amused.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EYAUazLI9k

Why does a video like this go viral, with millions of views on the internet? Is it because "The Sound of Music" brings back childhood memories of which we are fond? Is it the natural "feel-good" nature of the song itself? Is it the idea of 200 hundred people cleverly plotting four minutes of less-than-random dance moves? The answer to all these questions is the same, but they can be woven together to answer the bigger question. Is this genius? I believe the answer is a resounding "yes!"

Of course, I am extremely biased in that I grew up on musicals and there's a secret part of me that wants to burst out in to song and dance routines on a fairly regular basis. Naturally, something like this is right up my alley, but I'm only one person, a solitary droplet in the vast ocean of viewers this video has attracted.

So, what's the mass appeal? First off, the tense, hurried feeling of people in travel motion (we've all been there) is the perfect representation for the seeming disconnectedness of modern persons, thus making our busy train station an ideal setting for an out-of-the-ordinary incident. Secondly, the continued growth of the performance from one person to 200 baffles and delights us. Are all these people joining because they planned to from the start, or because they are moved to get involved? We keep asking the question as the line there is often blurred by smart editing. Third, human appeal. At some time or another, we all want to vacate our idle selves to be part of something different, unrestrained, and plain old fun. What better departure from the norm than spontaneous choreographed dance in a supposed inappropriate place?

I have read a few other cases of random organized takeovers of public places, and I encourage the purveyors of these plans to keep up the good work. Keep shaking up the public and challenging the boundaries of restrictive social normalcy. Remind us that we are more than a population of hard-working stiffs scraping our way through a struggling economy. Remind us we are alive, and life is supposed to be fun.

The Demon Yawner of Fleet Street

Imagine a group of ten respectably talented actor/musicians sitting around in a basement full of random artifacts collected throughout the owner's life. As the actors share cocktails and commiserate on how they were unable to secure a leading role on Broadway, despite a lifetime of musical education (and a string of successful regional performances), one of them hops up from his seat and says, "I have an idea! Let's act out Sweeney Todd!"

I just saved you the pain and monetary depletion of seeing the production of Sweeney Todd currently touring the nation. You're welcome.

I have read a number of reviews of this production, including this one http://theater2.nytimes.com/2005/11/04/theater/reviews/04swee.html?_r=1 which I find the most amusing, and I discovered that theater patrons are either in total agreement with me or are playing the "you're not an artist, so you just don't get it," card, which is, by all accounts, a lame sluff trying to pass itself off as trump.

While it is true, I am not an artist by profession, I am an admirer, nay, a lover of art in many mediums, with a particular fondness for musical theater. Fancying myself a bit of a renaissance woman, I am always fascinated by unique productions and creative styles of presentation. In short, I'm not a biased traditionalist who wants nothing but facsimile revivals. As such, I can sum up this production of ST in two words, "not good."

When I first read about this "innovative" production, I learned that the whole of the stage population consisted of ten people, each would play a role, an instrument, and be part of the company, there would be no set changes, and no one would leave the stage save for intermission. My greatest fear was that instead of having truly strong voices carry the narrative or amazingly talented musicians draw the audience in, there would be instead a group of people who would be simply"okay" at doing both, and that fear was realized. As musicians, the group was average, at best, and I could feel myself blush with embarrassment as Mrs. Lovett went oompa-ing across the stage with her tuba at an inappropriate moment. "Wah, wah, oompa in a bloody, murdersome play is ironic and comical." No, it's really not.

With the exception of Mrs. Lovett, the singing was weak, and the words were difficult to understand. I felt that Mrs. Lovett was actually held back as Sweeney was unable to hit the notes that she could have harmonized with which would have allowed her to reach her obvious potential in the duets. The parts of Toby, Pirelli, and Joanna were the most noticeable poor casting choices. The rest of the cast may have been decent, but their performances, good or bad, went under the radar every time Joanna lost her breath or Toby's voice cracked. Ouch, my ears!

Distracting is the only term I can conjure to explain the scenery. Not only were the actors responsible for the music and song, they also had to move the set around which, to me, still looked like a basement with a ladder, a big black wooden box, and random junk on shelves no matter what they did. Being consistently distracted, I was unable to forget my annoyed-ness long enough to appreciate the artistic attempts (every now and then a spotlight would single out one of the items on the wall to represent an action on stage).

In sum, I've read the praise, I've heard the whining, and I'm sure the person who came up with this scheme of actors being responsible for the gamut of the production is a very intelligent guy, but this more than missed the mark. By the end, the responsibility was clearly too heavy a burden--for the actors and the audience alike.

I Don't Know What I'm Doing

First off, I'd like to welcome anyone who has heard my previous blasting of blogging to go ahead and chastise me for starting my own. I will humbly subject myself to judgment...Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on.

You may look at my blog title and wonder, "WTF is Hoffmanovich?" Before my husband and I were married, the topic of last names was often brought up (and more often shut down). The usual vocabulary surfaced--tradition, custom, whatever. My reasons for keeping my last name were immaterial, as my husband was more concerned about what name our children would have (he also rejected the idea of changing his surname to mine...I'm still trying to wear him down on that one). Jokingly, I suggested a hybrid last name for our children, Hoffmanovich. Having the prefix Hoffman- would surely satisfy his need to acquiesce to male tradition, it is his entire surname after all, and the suffix -ovich would almost certainly improve our children's jump shots. As is quite common in my life, my joke was not appreciated, but rather, it was met with a stern look and string of unproductive personal jabs.

Long story over. I now use Hoffmanovich, comically and affectionately, to describe our family of (presently) two. My husband made the very generous offer of allowing me to pick all the first and middle names of future spawn as long as they get his last name. We'll see...