Terry Teachout's Blog, page 222

TT: Almanac

"The fact is, though nobody has perceived it, that a professional play-critic is a monstrosity--a sow with five legs or a man with four thumbs. Nature did not intend him, and that is why we have to conceal our repulsion when he confronts us. A keen playgoer may see, perhaps, ten, fifteen, or even twenty plays a year, and it is for him that dramatists writer and that managers dangle their bait. Your newspaper-critic may see a hundred productions in a year. The result is--let me put it with unmistakable simplicity--that he does not see any play as a normal citizen would see it. He is therefore as fantastic a freak as the Yorkshireman who ate half a dozen ordinary breakfasts. However, I must give you an example of my contention. Some years ago I glanced at a play-notice by X.Y.Z., whose conceit would be pathetic if it were tolerable, and in his notice he wrote, 'Then the usual quartet of lawn-tennis players came on, with the usual racquets,' and, we deduce, immediately bored X.Y.Z. Not until I had read these words did I realise, being only an average playgoer, that several playwrights must have recently used the convenient device of a tennis-party for getting their characters on and off the stage. Does not this example demonstrate in a twinkling that X.Y.Z. may black-mark a play for some effect which will seem to me and you unobjectionable and even adroit? He sees too many plays, eats too many breakfasts, is a monster."

Clifford Bax (quoted in James Agate, Ego 8)

TT: Anecdotage

This is my all-time favorite George Cukor story. It comes from No Minor Chords , André Previn's autobiography. I hope it's true!

* * *

While George was in the Army during the war, he was assigned to the Signal Corps Movie Unit, which was run by Frank Capra. One day he was called to Capra's office on Long Island.

"Get a cameraman and an editor, and go to the Pentagon. General Patton is back from Europe and he'd like to make a filmed statement in his office." George duly took off for Washington, D.C., with two cohorts. At the Pentagon they were told to se up the camera and the lights in the general's office and wait for his imminent return. Cukor took a disbelieving look around the stark quarters.

"Good Lord," he said, his sophisticated taste affronted, "crossed swords behind the desk! How on the nose can we get? Let's take them down, move the desk in front of the window, and see if we can get a better chair." His two co-workers were apprehensive. Patton was a man who wore a steel helmet at all times, carried a revolver, and was not given to a lot of patience. But George was not to be swayed; after all, he was back in his element, he was directing film, and the fact that he was a buck private about to deal with the scourge of Rommel did not enter his mind. The swords were taken down and the desk was in mid-move when Patton flung open the door and walked in. His rage was instant and fearful. He screamed at the top of his voice, "What do you think you're doing, you unspeakable Hollywood bastards!" This was only the beginning of a flow of invective of which Blackbeard the Pirate would have been proud. George sighed deeply with resignation. He was not at all frightened. Joan Crawford, Norma Shearer, Greta Garbo--he had dealt with tantrums all his life. He walked over to the general, who was now nearing the fortissimo apex of his wrath, and put his arm around the shoulder with the four stars on it. "Now, General," he said, soft-voiced and persuasive, "are we going to be silly about this?"

The cameraman and the editor blanched. Visions of firing squads or guillotines danced in front of them. Patton stopped in mid-threat. Never had he heard a sentence remotely like the one this private had just uttered. The insanity of the moment got to him, and he laughed and laughed. The swords were put back, the newsreel was filmed, and George Cukor went back to the Signal Corps bass, innocent of the dire consequences his friends had deemed inevitable.

* * *

George S. Patton gives a speech in Los Angeles in 1945. This clip is drawn from a Signal Corps documentary narrated by Ronald Reagan:

TT: So you want to see a show?

Here's my list of recommended Broadway, off-Broadway, and out-of-town shows, updated weekly. In all cases, I gave these shows favorable reviews (if sometimes qualifiedly so) in The Wall Street Journal when they opened. For more information, click on the title.

BROADWAY:

• Anything Goes (musical, G/PG-13, mildly adult subject matter that will be unintelligible to children, closes Jan. 8, all performances sold out last week, reviewed here)

• How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (musical, G/PG-13, perfectly fine for children whose parents aren't actively prudish, all performances sold out last week, reviewed here)

• Master Class (drama, G/PG-13, not suitable for children, extended through Sept. 4, most performances sold out last week, reviewed here)

OFF BROADWAY:

• Avenue Q (musical, R, adult subject matter and one show-stopping scene of puppet-on-puppet sex, reviewed here)

• The Fantasticks (musical, G, suitable for children capable of enjoying a love story, reviewed here)

CLOSING NEXT WEEK IN CAPE MAY, N.J.:

• He and She (drama, G, not suitable for small children, closes July 23, reviewed here)

CLOSING NEXT WEEK OFF BROADWAY:

• Play Dead (theatrical spook show, PG-13, utterly unsuitable for easily frightened children or adults, closes July 24, reviewed here)

CLOSING SATURDAY IN PITTSFIELD, MASS.:

• Guys and Dolls (musical, G, reviewed here)

CLOSING SUNDAY IN CHICAGO:

• The Front Page (comedy, PG-13, reviewed here)

CLOSING SUNDAY IN PITTSBURGH:

• House & Garden (two related serious comedies, PG-13, reviewed here)

CLOSING SUNDAY OFF BROADWAY:

• A Little Journey (drama, G, reviewed here)

CLOSING SUNDAY ON BROADWAY:

• The Motherf**ker with the Hat (serious comedy, R, adult subject matter, reviewed here)

TT: Almanac

"But Dave's approach to chocolate was actually pretty low-key, in the context of the new foodie movement which has sprung up around fine chocolate. This movement has, alas, spawned its own insufferable rhetoric, such that, in reading over various high-end chocolate catalogs, you are likely to encounter descriptions of this ilk: A saucy single-bean, grown exclusively in the shady lowlands of Ghana and harvested on alternating Tuesdays, at dusk. Notes of cardamom and oak predominate, with an insouciant creosote finish. (Those familiar with other luxury foods--wine and coffee, for instance--are no doubt familiar with this process: the curdling of expertise into hauteur.)"

Steve Almond, Candyfreak: A Journey Through the Chocolate Underbelly of America

TONY KUSHNER'S CHARACTERS SHOULD STOP TALKING NOW

" Like all genuine artists, Kushner writes not as he should but as he must, and his diffuse discursiveness is undoubtedly in part a function of his temperament. Still, the success of Angels in America seems to have confirmed Kushner in the belief that the iron law of economy that governs traditional theatrical storytelling does not apply to him..."

TT: A little traveling music, maestro

Mrs. T and I depart today on a two-week tour of theater companies in Maine, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire. We'll be doing a lot of driving, and I thought it might amuse you to know what CDs I've packed for the road:

• Pat Metheny, What It's All About

• The Rockin' Hammond of...Milt Buckner

• Stephen Sondheim: The Story So Far...

• John Wesley Harding, Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead

• Booker T. and the MGs: The Definitive Soul Collection

• Donald Fagen, Morph the Cat

See you elsewhere!

TT: Snapshot

"All the Cats Join In," a 1946 Walt Disney cartoon animated by Fred Moore and accompanied by Benny Goodman's orchestra. This cartoon originally appeared as part of the animated feature Make Mine Music:



(This is the latest in a weekly series of arts-related videos that appear in this space each Wednesday.)

TT: Almanac

"I had decided to write about candy because I assumed it would be fun and frivolous and distracting. It would allow me to reconnect to the single, untarnished pleasure of my childhood. But, of course, there are no untarnished pleasures. That is only something the admen of our time would like us to believe. Most of our escape routes are also powerful reminders; and whatever our conscious motives might be, in our secret hearts we wish to be led back into our grief."

Steve Almond, Candyfreak: A Journey Through the Chocolate Underbelly of America

TT: English, the not-so-universal language

I just got another wonderful e-mail from the Bulgarian translator of Pops: A Life of Louis Armstrong . Here it is, verbatim and in its entirety:

I am writing to you again because I am wondering how to interpret Armstrong's explanation of [Sid] Catlett's irresponsibility: "He played the chicks, he ran with the cats, he played the horses, played the numbers" (especially the horses). I am not sure how to understand these metaphors, as well as how exactly they fit together.

Could you also explain to me the meaning of the title of Armstrong's article "Stomping Piano Man"?

Also, I am not sure if I understand correctly the title "Keep the horn percolating" and the related statement, made by Armstrong. Could you say that in other words in order to get closer to the meaning?

And one more question related to a chapter title. Which one of the meanings of "sigh" has to be used in the context of "I don't sigh for nothing"?

Believe me, I did my best...

TT: Just because

Duke Ellington performs "Mood Indigo" in 1952: