My Oliver Twist obsession turns to addiction.

Every since I saw Oliver Twist performed at the Flynn last weekend, I've been on an Oliver Twist kick. That's what I do--when I find something that I like, I become obsessed. This week it's Oliver Twist, and next week it will probably be the Academy Award results or I am Number Four after I see it with my father on Wednesday. Anyway, my recent obsession with Oliver Twist led me onto Netflix (which I also just started subscribing to and am also pretty smitten about), where I stumbled upon a little film called Twist, which was a modern day retelling of the classic tale set in Toronto. If you think this sounds interesting, stop thinking that immediately, because the novelty wears off well before the film ends.

The characters all remain generally the same--you've got the Artful Dodger, now just Dodge, who finds Oliver on the side of the street and offers to take him in (for a price, of course). There's Fagin, who in this story plays the pimp to the younger men's hustlers and junkies, Nancy, who works in the local diner, and her husband, Fagin's boss, Bill Sykes, who is never shown in the film, but whose presence is always looming. The difference lies in the subject matter. In case you didn't quite catch it, this story depicts the boys (young men, rather) as hustlers and Dodge as a heroin addict, who Oliver is completely taken with immediately despite his cruelty and emotional absence.

The issue with the film is that you don't care. Dodge, the character that the story follows, is despicable. He's mean, violent, and manipulative without the benefit of having charisma or a single positive trait to gain your sympathy. The only positive trait he has is that he's played by Nick Stahl, who would give a great performance just standing there. Even that isn't enough. Nancy is a pathetic excuse for a woman and the audience can't understand why she won't leave Bill because we don't see him to tell if he has a positive trait or not. Fagin is just Bill's puppet and Oliver is just Dodge's. All of the characters only behave and exist because of their fear of what Bill will do to them if they rebel, but the audience is never brought into that sense of fear.

And then there's ending, which I won't ruin for anyone who may want to catch out this film just for the laughs. But I will say that it's like the filmmaker (Jacob Tierney wrote and directed it) didn't know how else to end it so he threw in every dramatic stereotypical element that makes up a film and called it a day. This is definitely a case of when subtlety may have been the better choice.

Who knew Vermont could have great local theatre?

Neil Bartlett's adaptation of Oliver Twist was Charles Dickens meets Monty Python: eloquently spoken and bitingly hilarious. It wasn't a laugh-out-loud success, but it had all the subtle humor of everything that I love in a show. Dickens has always been long-winded and kind of dull to me; I didn't know he had humor in him. I am overjoyed to know that I was wrong.

The Artful Dodger was delightfully demonic. Every time he took the stage, there was no one else on it. I had heard that he was shocking, almost unbelievably impressive prior to seeing it, but when Robbie Tann took the stage as the narrator, I didn't see the greatness that everyone had mentioned. But with the addition of a top hat and the most fantastic coat I've ever seen, he was suddenly something else entirely from great. I couldn't take my eyes off from him. I couldn't believe how good he was for being anyone, let alone an actor in Vermont. At first I thought there was no way he could keep up the level of his performance all the way through, but he never dropped it. Color me impressed with him. He made Charles Dickens sexy. That IS unbelievable.

My only complaint, if I had to make one (which I suppose I don't, but will anyway), was that Oliver Twist was the weakest character in the production. I've never read the novel, only seen the cheesy musical, so I don't know if he suppose to be weak or not, but I definitely would have liked the play better without him. Or her, I guess in this case. It didn't bother me that the actor was an actress as much as the actress wasn't much of an actress. Not in comparison to the others, anyway. It was clever of the director to disguise this fact by giving her less stage time and many less lines.

The real star of the show, however, was the accordion. I have always had a warm place in my heart for the accordion. When I was just knee high to a grasshopper, I used to beg my parents to let me play the "squishy woo thing", but I was never given the opportunity to learn. So when David Symons took the stage during Sunday's matinee performance of Oliver Twist carrying an accordion, I knew I was going to love him. I'm glad to say that I was not wrong.

Symons may be better known around the town of Burlington, Vermont as a taxi driving master or the guy rocking out on Church Street to the beat of his own orchestra, but in this production, he was seen as nothing else but the musical backbone of the production. Not only did he perform the musical numbers as a member of the chorus and provide most of the sound effects for the show (accompanied by Emma Gonyeau on the violin), but he seemed to pull instruments out of the thin air to play throughout the show.

If the accordion was not enough for the audience, at one point he danced down the aisle in the audience, wearing the accordion across his chest while he played the trumpet (and only messed up one note impressively enough). He then danced across the stage to resume his place beside Gonyeau at the side of the stage. And if that wasn't enough, he then began to play the xylophone, which took his a step back for me because I used to play "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on the xylophone when I was five, but then he shot him forward again when he turned to the keyboard, then back to the accordion, back to the keyboard, and so forth.

The number and quality of instruments that he played aside, the thing that was the most impressive about Symons' performance was the way he played each instrument. Every time I would look over him, he would appear to be in his own little world. He didn't just play the notes, he created them, and even on the final performance of the show, it seemed fresh, like he was just now discovering the notes and enjoying how they sounded.  He was completely engulfed in the sound of his own music and it was a beautiful spectacle for the show.

I was able to suspend my disbelief into thinking that the story was unfolding in front of me for the first time because of Symons' performance. He was so convincing  that he was playing those instruments and the music that was in the play for the first time and enjoying himself in doing so that I was able to enjoy them for the first time, as well. I found myself believing that he was a musician in the 1800's more than anyone else in the show was from that time period, and that feeling alone made the show a success for me.

Note: Oliver Twist was put on by the Vermont Stage Company at the Flynn Space in Burlington, Vermont. It ended its run on Sunday afternoon.

Me, myself, and I

In honor of yesterday, my roommate Leah and I hosted an "I hate Valentine's Day" potluck at our apartment and, of course, watched Garry Marshall's Valentine's Day as a part of the festivities. And there was one scene that actually made me stop and think. One character insightfully said: "When you love someone, you love ALL of them. Not just the good parts, but the bad ones too." It's a wonderful sentiment, and a particularly optimistic one, but it's completely untrue for me. I find one reason to hate someone and let that eat away at me until there's nothing left. And I hate that about myself. I always tell myself when I meet someone new that I'm not going to do it, but I find that once we've stopped speaking that I did do it without realizing that I was. And then I say that at least I'm self-aware. But what has that really gotten me?

All that being said, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. I was wrong.

I think it's important to know where your strengths lie and what your weaknesses are, and consciously try to improve on them. I think it may be the most important thing. Because no matter how many relationships you have in your life, you'll be with yourself the longest. And that's the one you really need to work on. So, in honor of Valentine's Day and the romance and couple-ness that goes along with it, I'm going to review myself.

In the words of the immortal Marilyn Monroe, "I'm selfish, impatient, and a little bit insecure."

As much as I love you, I love me more and I always will. The only thing I love more than myself is my cat, Clutch, and that's only because she doesn't need me. I'm independent to a flaw, or at least I want everyone to think that I am, but I'm also the loneliest person that I know. I get annoyed when you talk to me too much, and I get annoyed when you talk to me too little. I will never admit to you that my thoughts contradict each other.

I don't talk about my feelings and I don't want you to talk about yours. I won't tell you when something is wrong, but I will expect you to read my mind. I have an extremely short temper and tendencies towards the dramatic. I can be really unforgiving and a total bitch.

And now that you're all really turned off, let me try to think of the positives, which are a lot more difficult for me to talk about.

My memory is selective. In your favor. I may get mad and blow up at you with a laundry list of complaints, but the following day, week, month, year I will ALWAYS only remember the things I did wrong and the things you did right. You just have to wait out the anger.

I am shockingly, almost unbelievably undemanding. (Although some people may disagree with this one.) I can count the number of things I have asked boyfriends to do for me on my fingers and toes. That being said, if I do ask you do something and you don't, I will pout, sulk, yell, explode, and generally not be please with you. I may not like all the things you do, but I will never tell you not to do something. I hate making decisions, so I will go along with almost any idea you come up with. If you ask me to try something, I have to really not want to do it to say no. I will try to make you happy even if it makes me less so, relationships and friends alike.

Even if I am terrible in a relationship, I am a really good friend. I may talk until your ears bleed, but I'm also a good listener. I ask people how their day is because I honestly want to know. I may be a bitch, but I also care about people. If you lie, I will swear to it. If you need to hide a body, I will help you and not tell a soul. And I know how to take one for the team. If you have an annoying friend who needs to be kept company while you hit a cute guy/girl, I am your girl. I can smile and make nice with the best of them.

I know how to laugh at myself, and I do often. I can take a joke at my expense and I'm not easily offended. I love beer and sports, and I adore any cat, dog, fish, hedgehog, snake, or any other pet that you may have. Except spiders. A girl has to draw the line somewhere.

I tried to make it fairly balanced, but I'm starting to think that posting this is going to blacken my future love life considerably, but life is all about risks, right? And I've got to say, this is the most narcissistic thing I've ever done. It was kind of fun.

Happy day after Valentine's Day, everyone <3

February in Vermont: a joke review

So this semester I'm taking a Reviewing class and the first couple of weeks we had fairly serious conversations about the merit of Black Swan and what constitutes a "good" review, as well as what the reviewers responsibility is to the reader. So I was glad to take a step back from all that discussion and be able to write a fun review of last week's snow-mageddon. For those of you who don't live in the Burlington area, the snow was accompanied by Mass Hysteria and Canceling Classes the Night Before. Here's my review. Hope it makes you giggle as much as I did writing it.

Mother Nature Gets Back to her Roots and

Shows Winter in a Way That Will Dazzle

No one can say it's an easy job being Mother Nature. Controversial in the past, Mother Nature's work is often panned by critics for either playing it "too safe" or "revealing too much", but with last week's episode of February in Vermont, she struck the right balance between covert and obvious. I think it's safe to say that no one walked away from the episode disappointed.

February followed a storyline similar to those we've seen in the past--everything is very picturesque and quintessential until Snow enters the scene and begins to destroy the town Godzilla-style--but Mother Nature managed to both tone down the obviousness of Snow's attacks and yet bring  out a more forceful and assertive performance from Snow than we've seen in the past. It was refreshing to see the young actor actually act rather than puff out his chest and strut around to make himself known.

Snow really needed the success of February to bring back his career after a slew of failures, such as Christmas in June and I'm Going to Ruin Your Graduation Party, where he played in a supporting role so bad the critics said, "The only thing relevant that Snow will do in the future is keep the toilets clean for serious actors". But in his guest role in Wednesday's episode as a terrorist covering windshields and roads alike, he brought something new to familiar territory, and really dazzled in the role.

Mother Nature also brought something that was new and interesting for her. Her work with February has been limited to working with Ice and Temperature playing the role of Bitter Cold, so it was refreshing to see her take a step away from that and bring Snow in a guest role. Wednesday's episode was just what she needed to bring audience interest back to the show.

Mother Nature has been known for her use in visuals, most notably for her subtle use of color in last fall's mini-series, Autumn Leaves, but it was the simplicity of February that delighted and charmed audiences. It seems Nature has found her calling in keeping things one-toned and clean. It allowed her to focus her efforts on the more psychological side of the subject matter, which is where she really shines.

Audiences will love and relate to February in a way that hasn't been seen in a weather series in a long time. The last time we've seen one with such heart was in 1998's Rain Showers in July. February come onto the scene just in time to show audiences that weather series are still around and have fresh things to say. This series, and Wednesday's episode in particular, are worthy of being watched, especially if you are a fan of Snow's earlier work. This is his best performance to date. I wouldn't be surprised if Nature brought him back in a future episode.

There was an encore performance on Saturday evening for those of you who missed it during the premiere, and it was equally as satisfying the second time around.

My experiment with an experimental film

“And to the anonymous anatomical specimen—to the single still dreaming hair on his brow with its desires to disturb the wallpaper.”

With these words, the Brothers Quay "Rehearsals for Extinct Anatomies" begins and throws the viewer into a whirlwind world of dancing barcodes and bouncing balls. The 14 minute video begins by showing a grotesque "anatomy" attempting to rub away a hair on his forehead while his eyeball frantically looks around the room, keeping a watchful eye over all of the buzzing objects around him. Just as the hair pops off from his forehead, the orchestra of the objects begins and the story moves from a quirky little symphony of various objects to a statement about society.

The camera shifts into a darkly lit and ominous space where two figures, apparently struck with leprosy, are lounging. The man is laying in the bed while the woman leans against the wall rubbing her own forehead in imitation of the anatomy outside the door. As the story, and the orchestra, move forward to the climax and end of the video, the camera moves back and forth between the dark and well lit rooms, demonstrating the juxtaposition between the two sides.

The point that the Brothers Quay are trying to make in this short are unclear, of course, because that’s how these types of the “experimental” films go—they are designed to be purposely vague and make little sense. That being said, the point that I thought they were trying to make with the film was this: curiosity is something that controls us and turns us into something else. Let's walk through the "plot" again to illustrate my point.

The film opens with the grotesque anatomy rubbing at the stray hair on his temple. He is the god of this world; everything he does creates a reaction from all the other objects (and the lepers) in the room. If he had just left the hair alone, we would have seen a completely different short, full of puppies and meadows. But he just couldn’t leave it well enough alone because curiosity is a driving force in our lives. He had to keep going, and the consequences of his actions are shown through the woman in the room who is imitating his actions. Enough of those tired old tales about curiosity killing cats, the Brothers Quay are clearly showing the audience that it will give you leprosy.  Now, that’s a statement.

It has been my experience that experimental films try too hard to make statements, and this one was no exception. If you want to say that ugly, crazy-eyed creatures are gods that control our lives and that curiosity is going to give you an incurable, contagious disease, I am of the opinion that you should just say that instead of making a 14 minute video of string/wire people dancing around to some violin music. But maybe that’s just me.